Kingdom: The Complete Series (46 page)

Mark looks at Stacy,
and she gives him a silent nod.

“
Ok,
let's go. Lead the way. You said everyone was already there except for Jamie?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Where's
he?”

“
Chasing
up our lead.”

Jamie is sitting on a
low wall in a long, silent street, shoulders hunched to keep the misty rain
off. It comes in waves with the wind, like swarms of tiny birds, turning the
world a dark blue. There's a single light across the road, coming from a crack
in some curtains.

He's wearing a long
winter coat with a scarf over his mouth and a hood pulled over his head,
leaving only his dark-ringed eyes staring through the haze. The house he's
focused on was once lived in, like a lot of Glasgow; the weeds reclaiming the
driveway tell him that it's been left empty for a while.

Two figures approach
from his left; a short one with a swagger who hops from foot to foot as he
walks, like a young deer. The other is a taller, bulkier woman who walks as
though her feet are giving her trouble, with a slight hobble.

Jamie smiles as they
sit on either side of him, groaning at the dampness of the wall as it soaks
through their trousers.

“
Lads,”
he nods as they shuffle in.

“
I'm
no lad,” says Cathy.

Gary shrugs. “We're
your backup. Tony called us, said you had something?”

“
I
visited an old colleague of mine, looking for leads. Apparently some guys
dragged him into this building two days back, beat the shit out of him, and
then turned him loose again.”

Cathy makes a curious
humming sound. “What, just for fun?”

“
No,
they were making an example of him. Establishing a new order, as it were. He
said they had Birmingham accents, really distinct ones.”

“
So
what are they doing in Glasgow?”

“
I
don't know Cathy,” sighs Gary, rolling his eyes. “What could criminals from
across the country possibly be doing in a city filled with poor, vulnerable
people?”

Jamie nods. “Not to
mention the power vacuum that the King's supposed disappearance has created.”

“
Supposed?”

“
He's
not gone.”

“
Surely
he'd eliminate these newcomers if he wasn't.”

“
That's
the thing, Gary,” says Jamie, turning to look at him. “I think it's him that
brought them here.”

Cathy folds her arms,
trying to keep her hands warm in her elbow crease.

“
What
makes you think that?”

“
The
guy they beat up – he was a low level informant, a watcher for the King back in
the day. They gave him a doing-over and set him loose, no explanation or
cause.”

“
So?”

“
They
knew he'd tell someone. Namely, all his pals. Now Glasgow knows they're here.
Establishing a reputation, as it were. The way I hear it, there's people coming
here from across the entire country – a shit load from London, in particular.”

“
None
of that fits the King's ideals, though,” says Cathy, her voice a murmur in the
whispering rain. “He was a Glasgow man, through and through.”

“
Is
,
Cathy,” Jamie corrects her. “He's not gone.”

“
So
what's in the house you're staring at?” asks Gary. “You look like a serial
killer, man.”

“
The
crowd from Birmingham, apparently.”

“
Only
house with a light on in the whole street,” says Cathy, looking up and down the
road.

“
Yeah,
the street over got totally wiped out by the Destroyer. Everyone here left,
more or less.”

“
Least
nobody's homeless anymore,” says Gary. “There's enough houses for everyone.”

Cathy scowls at him.

“
Right
guys,” says Jamie before she can scold him. “We're going to knock on the door
and if I hear a brummie accent, we storm the place and find out what the hell
they're doing here. You guys wearing your armour?”

They nod, and when he
looks closely Jamie can see the black tint of Trespasser armour under their
heavy coats, at the edges of their sleeves where their gloves start.

“
Good,”
he says. “Any questions before we go?”

“
One,”
says Cathy. “Should I be using this tazer if I'm soaking wet from the rain?”

“
It
won't shock you, Cath,” sighs Jamie.

“
Hey,”
says Gary, “that's a legitimate concern. What if one of us gets it by accident
-”

“
The
shock travels down the
wires
guys, come on, Tony explained all of this.
Are we ready?”

They murmur their
agreement, and Jamie puts a single earphone under his hood, looping it around
his ear before plugging it in. Within the inner breast pocket of his jacket
sits his phone, already in a call that has lasted over two hours. He lifts his
jacket, bringing the pocket close to his mouth.

“
Chloe,
you there sweetheart?”

Her voice comes back
distant and crackled, as though she's sitting beside a radio.

“
Loud
and clear.”

“
I
asked if you were there, not if you could hear me.”

She laughs.
“Whatever,
yeah, I've got you. You guys talk some shite by the way. Going in?”

“
Going
in.”

“
Be
careful.”

“
Always
am.”

“
Oh,
and Jamie? Tony got Mark and Stacy – they're fine, heading to the safehouse as
we speak.”

Jamie grins in the
darkness. “Then I'll see them when I'm back. He owes me a drink.”

“
See
you soon. Good luck.”

When the off-white door
to the house is opened, it's a scowling, bald man in a leather jacket that
stares back at them. Cathy vanishes and steps through him, drifting away
through the house like a breeze. The doorman looks at Jamie and Gary,
silhouettes in the rain with their heavy coats and hidden faces, and grunts.

“
Yeah?”

Unmistakable accent.
Jamie looks at Gary, turning his entire body as he does so, and the two nod to
each other. Jamie clears his throat.

“
I'd
like to talk to the man in charge.”

Sneering, the bald man
shrugs. “Who are you then?”

“
We're
local businessmen,” says Gary. “With an interest in your operation.”

“
Fuck
off.”

He slams the door, and
twists three separate locks.

The doorman mutters to
himself and steps away from the door. Of course, he doesn't know that Jamie
stepped out of the time-stream before the door closed and let him and Gary in.

When the doorman turns
around in the low light, Jamie is smiling at him. His heart nearly stops with
fright, and that's when Jamie cracks a lead pipe over his face. In silence, he
crumples into Gary's waiting arms, and together they set him down on the floor
with a bloodied scowl on his face, as though he's having a bad dream.

“
Well,
we tried,” says Jamie. “Definitely the right accent.”

“
Where's
Cathy?” hisses Gary.

“
I've
no idea. Away being invisible somewhere, she'll be nearby if we need her.”

Jamie begins to rifle
through the man's pocket, pulling out a wallet and flicking through it.

“
What
are you doing? Stealing?”

“
We
run on a shoestring budget, Gary,” says Jamie, pocketing a wad of bills. “This
is dinner for all of us for the next week. Not to mention we'll have to buy
Mark's booze now, too. And...”

Jamie lifts a pink card
out and reads the name off it.

Gary watches him,
raising an eyebrow. “Driver's license?”

“
I'm
trying not to blow our cover, Gary. Trust me.”

Jamie vanishes from
sight, and Gary looks around, confused. When he reappears, the unconscious body
is gone.

“
I
wish you'd tell me when you were going to do that,” says Gary. “Everyone just
disappears these days.”

“
I
hid him in a cupboard. His name is Alex. He doesn't look twenty six does he?”

“
He
looks about forty.”

“
Poor
guy. Anyway, let's go find out who's in charge.”

They walk side by side
through a dilapidated lobby with an off green carpet littered with chips of
wood and flecks of food, stained and curled at the corners. Everything smells
like cigarettes and beer, mixed in with cheap perfume, the kind that has always
saddened Jamie, that speaks to him of desperation and loneliness.

Pushing a smoked-glass
door open with a rap of his knuckles, Jamie beckons Gary to follow him and
enters the room.

Four people look up;
three men in leather jackets with facial expressions ranging from confusion to
outright anger. Then there's a woman, tanned with her blonde hair up in a
beehive, glittery fake eyelashes catching the light.

The click-clack of guns
being readied fills the room, lit by two lamps that cast long shadows across
everything.

“
Who
the
shit
are you -” starts one of the men, standing up and brushing his
jacket aside to reach for a pistol.

It's the woman who
stops him, shouting him down with a thick accent.

“
Sit
down son, sit down. Rude.” He turns and stares at her until a suggestive raise
of her eyebrows returns him to the stained couch. She turns her eyes to the new
arrivals. “Answer his question.”

Jamie takes his hood
down and pulls his scarf away from his face.

“
Alex
let us in. Said to talk to the boss.”

“
Alex?”
she asks, and narrows her eyes. She shouts his name like an angry mother:
“Alex?!”

No reply.

“
He
stepped outside for a smoke,” says Gary.

“
Did
he?” she smiles. “Funny that, since he swore off the fags after his old mam
died of the lung cancer.”

“
Uh,
yeah, well -” begins Gary.

Jamie shrugs and turns
to Gary. “Well, we tried.”

Time flickers, and
Jamie breaks the closest man's jaw with the pipe, grabbing the sub-machine gun
from his hands. Gary throws up a forcefield, cringing as the bullets start to
fly.

When the pillow
stuffing starts to fall like snow flakes, Gary opens his eyes and looks around
in the silence. Someone groans and Jamie flickers across the room, silencing
them with a boot to the face.

The men lie in crumpled
heaps, clutching their knees and arms, whilst the make-up clad woman is whimpering
on the floor with her fingers bent and broken at strange angles. She scuttles
on her elbows until her back is against the wall.

Cathy pops into
existence, her hands over her ears, crouched in the corner.

“
Jesus,
Jamie, what -”

“
Calm
down, Cathy, I didn't kill any of them,” he says, shrugging.

“
Her
hand -”

Jamie holds up a small
silver revolver. “She was going for this.” He turns around. “Gary, let the
forcefield down, for goodness sake.”

Gary hesitates before
letting his unscathed forcefield vanish like mist in a strong wind.

“
Bet
you're glad you brought me, eh?” he asks, laughing nervously. “I'm so useful -”

“
Quiet,
Gary,” he says, and squats beside the woman. “Now, sweetheart, look at me. You
listening?”

She nods, biting her
lip and trying not to glance at her hand.

Cathy and Gary watch
Jamie cock the revolver, and their eyes widen as he rests it against her
shoulder, barrel first.

“
Now,
I'm going to ask you some questions, and you get one chance to give me an
answer, ok? No second chances or games here. Answer me, and my friends and I
walk out of here without another word. We'll call you an ambulance and
everything,” he says, making sure to direct the last bit towards his inner
breast pocket.