Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) (12 page)

BOOK: Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3)
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“Did you tell Bane this?” Father Mark didn’t scoff at what probably sounded a rather generous interpretation of my torturer’s motives.

I shook my head.

“Then can’t you see why he’s pissed off? Why didn’t you tell him?”

“It’s embarrassing. It was…
where you were
. He wanted to know where you all were.”

“Ah.” Father Mark nodded. “And you’re too modest to take the credit for your courage in refusing to tell him.”

My cheeks heated.

“See, even
you’re
embarrassing me. How could I tell the Major that? I didn’t do anything special, so don’t make out I did!”

Father Mark sighed.

“Look, Bane’s never been faced with Full Conscious Dismantlement. What he said, he meant it the way people say, ‘I hope he falls and breaks his neck’. It’s never a pleasant thing to say, but ninety-nine point nine percent of times someone says that, they don’t
mean
it.”

“I
know
. And maybe I am being illogical, it just really
hurt
to hear him say that. And if he can’t even see why I’m upset, that’s… even more upsetting.”

“This whole Everington business upsets you too, doesn’t it?” he said shrewdly.

“Yes. ’Cause he’s innocent. And he tried to help me.
I think
. And…” I hesitated, then hurried on, “and ‘cause I’m afraid I hate him, and I don’t want to hate
anyone
.”

Father Mark looked at me for a moment – the Seal of Confession stopping him from asking something?

“Yes, he’s the guy with no eyes,” I said softly.

Father Mark said nothing. I was the only person to whom he would
ever
betray knowledge of what I’d said under the Seal of Confession – but he’d need far more explicit permission than that.

“Well,” he said, after a moment, “are you sure Bane’s actually earned all this rage by his comment, or are you dumping some of your anger with the EuroGov over this onto him?”

I wrapped my arms around myself for a moment, then it reminded me of the Major on his seat, so I unwrapped them again.

“I don’t know. What he said really upset me. But perhaps I wouldn’t normally have been so
angry
with him. I really… I really had a go at him.”

“I didn’t hear it all, but it did sound that way.”

“Y’know, I don’t think priests are supposed to listen at doors.”

“Trust me, I’d have needed ear plugs not to hear you.”

“Huh.” I checked my watch again. Half an hour. “Ow… they’ll be starting again and I want to see it. Well, I don’t exactly
want
to but… well, you know what I mean.” I let out a long breath. “I don’t know what to say to Bane.”

“Perhaps you can both apologise to each other – mutual apologies normally work well.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Doesn’t stop you, does it? If you feel you’ve got something to apologise for.”

“Hmm.” I looked at my watch again. “Look, I’m going. Thank you for… thank you for following me.”

“Always happy to stalk a parishioner in need.”

Laughing, I ran a few steps across the stone, then skidded to a halt.

“Oh, Bane said to just ask if I remembered ‘cause we both keep forgetting. We’d like you to marry us. Will you?”

“Of course,” said Father Mark. “Nothing would make me happier. As soon as you’ve sorted out… er…
this
, just set a date.”

“Yeah, well. If we were going to call if off because of
this
, it should never have been on in the first place, should it?”

Father Mark smiled as I turned and ran for the TV room again.

“You two are going to be fine,” he called after me. “I have every confidence in
that
. We’ll start doing the marriage prep in odd moments, shall we?”

My happiness faded before I reached the TV room.
Oh-Lord-help-me, this is going to be so awkward
… The TV was still on, the door open. I looked in. Jon, sat on his own on the sofa. I went and sat beside him.

“Margo?”

“Yes. What’s happening?”

“Bane’s looking for you.”

“I meant with the sentencing.”

“Oh. They just brought him back in. He hasn’t said anything. So I don’t know what’s happening.”

I turned my attention to the screen.

The Major was slumped in his chair, his head almost... lolling. Drool hung in a long thread from his chin and dripped slowly onto the carpet. His hands twitched in front of his chest, making feeble batting motions as though trying to fend something away. I had to swallow hard before I could speak to Jon.

“Looks... looks like they’ve... destroyed him. Really destroyed him, this time. Bastards.”

Bane walked in then. He looked at me, and I looked at him. He looked hurt and angry. I felt hurt and angry. Sticky silence. Wordlessly, he went and sat on the other side of Jon. Yeah, they’d be concluding very soon. We could apologise or fight some more then. Bane took over muttering descriptions of what was happening to Jon – he’d had more practise than me.

The judge, having finally, belatedly, learned better, did not invite the Major to speak again – not that that wreckage of a man could speak, surely? After one final, brief summarisation, he proceeded to sentence him to death with all the speed and ceremony of a man dispatching a boiled egg. Dismantling. The following morning.

Very wise. Even those out-of-bloc human rights groups wouldn’t be interested in the conviction of an EGD Major who was already dead.

“Mr Everington,” said the judge reluctantly, “do you understand what has just been said?”

The guards prodded their charge gingerly with the tips of their truncheons – he started, head flopping back so he stared at the ceiling. Through the ceiling. Words actually whispered from his lips, but he was talking to himself. Or possibly to thin air.

“Black fuschias... Black ones. Is it possible? Someone must have tried. That would be the thing... Perhaps…” He fell silent, hands stilled, and his head lolled forwards again.

The judge flapped a weary hand at the guards.

“Oh, take him away.”

The guards reached for him, but he lurched out of his seat, pawing urgently at the Perspex as though unsure why he couldn’t get through it.

“No! No! I have to know! I
need
to know! I need to
know
…”

The guards took hold of him but he just went on saying, “
But I need to know
,” again and again as they guided him through the door. It shut behind him and the judge swept out.

It was over.

The newscaster began to witter on about the sentence, but Bane stabbed the off button on the remote and the TV went blank. We stared at each other across Jon. No putting it off now. Jon gripped his sticks and made as if to heave himself to his feet.

“I’ll just...”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Bane caught his arm. “You can stay there and protect me. Margo’s awfully free with her darling little fists when she’s angry.”

His sarcasm made me wince. Whacking him was a bad habit I really should’ve left behind in our playpen...

A long silence. Bane went on staring at me, his brow rucked up. He mostly just looked hurt, now. Seeing that expression on his face made me ache inside twice as badly.

“Well, one of you say something,” said Jon at last.

I didn’t know what to say. If I just apologised straight off for my part in it, we wouldn’t end up talking about it.

Bane hesitated another moment, then said in a tight voice, “You think I’m an evil bastard? Is it because of what I...” He swallowed. “What I did to...”

...to Doctor Richard!
Oh no
...

“No! No, Bane. I didn’t mean anything like that. Didn’t mean anything except in relation to the... er...
conversation
... earlier. Anyway, I don’t think you
are
! It was an either or!”

Bane snorted.

“Oh, so I’m just an effing stupid blithering idiot, well that’s better – but only a little!”

He’d far too good a memory.

“I don’t think you
are
stupid,” I said stiffly. “You were just being stupid about this one thing.”

“That’s a concession, by the way,” remarked Jon.

“I noticed!” Bane snapped, attention still on me. “I just don’t understand... he hurt you and I’m not allowed to wish him harm?
What the hell!

“It’s
natural
to wish him harm,” I said, “though not... well,
ideal
. But nothing warrants
that
.”

“How can you defend him?”

“I’m not
defending
him. But even if you take the old law of an eye for an eye – okay, so perhaps you want to pin him down and get artistic with his face. But
you’re
saying you want to pin him down and – with him conscious! – rip his skin off, piece by piece, then scoop out his eyes, then chop out his tongue, then slice out his bones, then yank out his teeth, then cut off his ears and nose and manhood, then...”

“Stop, stop!” Bane held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, you’re right, okay? I don’t want that to happen to him. Not while he’s conscious. But you could’ve just said what you just said!”


Well, I’m sorry I’m not perfect!
” I stopped and drew in a couple of deep breaths, squeezing my eyes closed for a moment. “Look... I’m just really, really sorry I went for your throat like that, okay? I went
way
over the top.”

I struggled to hold back tears. So much for my hormones being back to normal.

Bane was silent for a few long minutes, staring at my poorly hidden distress. Then he slipped from the sofa and knelt in front of me, one hand resting rather tentatively on my knee.

“Margo, I am a stupid blithering idiot. Yeah, I s’pose I didn’t mean it, but whatever, I shouldn’t have been so stupid as to talk like that about something you can’t
possibly
think about dispassionately. So I’m really sorry too.”

His brown eyes gazed into mine with such sincerity the tears began to spill out.

“I’m sorry...” I mopped frantically with my sleeve. “I wasn’t going to cry. It’s not fair...”

“Aren’t we done?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Doesn’t matter, then. Please, come here...”

No second invitation needed. I slid into his arms, ending up in his lap on the floor.

“Sorry,” I whispered into his hair. “Sorry...”

“No, I’m sorry,” he whispered back. “I’ve been an insensitive clod. I can’t pretend to understand why this whole trial thing has bothered you so much but I know it
has
and I pretty much ignored that.
I’m
sorry.”

He hugged me tight, kissing my cheek, my neck, my hair. Vaguely aware of Jon dragging himself to his feet and tip-tapping out of the room but I was too busy cuddling up to Bane to pay any attention.

“Ah well,” sighed Bane, after we’d snuggled for a while and I’d stopped sniffing. “The thing’s all over now, anyway.”

“Please tell me you didn’t enjoy it. No... that’s stupid. Just tell the truth. Did you enjoy it?”

“Not as much as I thought I would.” He kissed my scar. “Not as much at all.”

After another moment, he added, “I wonder what he wanted to know?”

 

It
wasn’t
all over, of course.

Not quite.

 

 

 

***+***

 

 

 

10

FULL LOCK-DOWN

 

When, after a leisurely breakfast the next morning, we arrived in the TV room to enjoy our second day of relaxation and Bane put EuroVee on, we were greeted by the newscaster’s voice, “For anyone joining us, we’re here at the Brussels Detention Facility to bring you coverage of the execution of Lucas Everington, former Major and Commandant in EGD Security...”

“Haven’t they taken him in by now?” I checked my watch in dismay. “It’s almost nine o’clock.”

‘Coverage’ of an important execution just meant filming the convicted being marched from cell to Lab door – the cameras never went inside.
Don’t let anyone think too closely about what goes on inside the Lab, about the fact the person won’t be dead for some hours – about the fact that this is what’s done to people’s children
...

“We’re about to head up to the cell block corridor from which in just a moment the guards will be escorting the convicted to the place of execution...” The newscaster was as chirpy as if she was reporting on a town fete.

“Look, I’m going to go in the kitchen and make us all deluxe coffees, just let me know when it’s over,” I said.

“It won’t take a moment, Margo...” said Bane.

“I don’t want to see it!”

“Okay, okay.” He turned to Jon as I headed for the kitchenette, “D’you think I should record this for Hippo? He’s still in bed and I recorded the sentencing for him.”

“Well, just hit record. He can always delete it.”

“Yeah...”

I shut the kitchenette door firmly and began to clatter around, trying to concentrate on making coffee – offering up rather erratic prayers for the man who was about to begin to die. He wouldn’t feel a thing, of course. Might even be totally oblivious to what was about to happen.

Hard not to identify with someone facing dismantling, even if not the full whack. Yet
this
someone had walked away and left me to face the full whack. Admittedly, I did believe he would’ve spared me it if I’d just been prepared to give him sufficient excuse...

The door opened and Bane looked in.

“Margo, come and see this.”

I slammed a mug onto the work surface so hard a chip flew off the bottom.


I don’t want to see it!

“Calm down and trust me, can’t you? You
will
want to see this...”

He snagged my wrist and drew me through the door. Regretting my loss of temper, I let him. Reluctantly.

On the screen, two guards, faces like chalk, were running up a cell corridor, opening door hatches and looking in.

“Clear off!” one of them hissed at the hovering cameraman – with little effect – then met his comrade mid-corridor. “Have you found him?”

The other guard shot an anguished look at the media crew and clearly muttered a negative response.

“We have to sound the alarm!” Raising his wristCell, the first guard pressed something – cacophonous alarms split the air and huge clunk-clicks came from every door as extra locks kicked in. The guard spoke urgently on his wristCell and soon the Facility Commandant arrived, red with rage.


Where is he?

“The cell hasn’t been opened since he was shut in last night,” said the first guard weakly.

The Commandant – a colonel, by the shiny things on his shoulders – strode into the one open cell, poky and clearly empty, shook – or rather failed to shake – the solid bars over the windows and strode out again.

“Unless!” he roared, “You are suggesting! That the man!
Evaporated!
The cell! Has clearly! Been
opened!
By
someone!

Flat against the corridor wall, the unfortunate guard whimpered, “Not by us, sir. Must’ve been... must’ve been the prisoner...”

“That drooling madman?
Impossible!
” But he promptly spun on his heel and barked at the waiting Major and Captain, “He can’t possibly have got far. No one leaves – the gates do not open for
anything
. Full lock-down.”

He glowered at the media crew, as though they might’ve hidden the escapee in a camera bag, then went on, in a very, very ominous voice, “
Who
was in the camera room last night?”

“I don’t believe it,” I said, as guards began to come and go, running in all directions. “He’s escaped?”

“Yep,” said Bane. “They went marching up to that cell cocky as anything, opened it up... Nothing there!”

“But... much as I hate to agree with an EGD Colonel, ‘drooling madman’ about summed it up.”

“Perhaps he was faking,” suggested Jon.

“Didn’t look like it,” said Bane. “I s’pose you shouldn’t try to imprison a long-serving EGD Security Commandant in a Facility, whatever his state of mind.”

“Especially not one who stood there in court and
told
you he thinks your security procedures are rubbish,” I sniggered. “I expect he’s just sitting in a corner somewhere potting his imaginary plants and they’ll find him, but it’s still priceless!”

“That’s what he was doing at the trial, was it?” grinned Bane. “Well, y’know, I take it back. Anyone who can embarrass them this much can’t be all bad.”

He got up and went to rescue the coffees from the kitchenette, since I was glued to the screen, not that there was much to see. After the initial flurry of activity the officers mostly received updates and gave orders over their wristCells. The media crew, corralled at one end of the corridor, eavesdropped shamelessly with their big mics, informing us gleefully – and very quietly – when the first search turned up nothing and a second search was ordered...

By this point, even my attention was waning.

“He’s certainly got himself well hidden.” I stretched and sipped my rather cold coffee. “Why don’t you show me the first bit while we wait for them to find him?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty funny.” Bane grabbed the remote at once.

From what they showed of the media crew’s journey to the cell, the Detention Facility was built exactly the same as the standard type of Facility – only inside the two long inmates blocks was it different, with a long corridor of cells on ground and second floor instead of gym and dormitories...

But the expressions on the guards’ faces as they realised the cell was empty! One almost felt a teensy bit sorry for them. Impossible not to howl with laughter, though.

When we got our breath back and returned to the live broadcast the media crew stood in the parking area.

“Well, they’ve made it out of the building,” said Bane.

“I’m guessing the Colonel figured out the range on those mics,” grinned Jon.

“Probably,” I said. “I doubt they wanted to leave!”

The gates were shut tight and a couple of warning lights still flashed, though someone had switched off the deafening siren. Clearly still in lock-down. A couple of guards stood in one corner of the parking area, busy unscrewing an access panel and poking around inside a cavity a small child would’ve been hard pressed to squeeze into.

“They really can’t find him, can they?” I said in mounting astonishment. To get out of the compound
entirely
? Especially in such a condition...

Switching back to EuroVee from
Veritas
after a lively praise programme we found the media crew haranguing the Colonel mercilessly as they tried to get some sort of statement out of him. Refusing to be drawn, he gave curt orders and the guards herded the crew back into their van. The gates were opened and through they drove.

“Since we have been allowed to leave it is clear lock-down is lifted.” The cameraman must’ve been plastered to the back door to get the newscaster in the lens. “Therefore, despite Colonel Gavreche’s refusal to comment, it seems safe to assume that the escaped prisoner is not within the Facility walls. We’ll bring you more as the news breaks, but now, back to our scheduled programming...”

Bane flicked the TV off, whistling softly.

“He’s actually escaped.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Properly escaped!”

“I don’t expect he’ll get far,” said Bane, “but he’s given them a red face, all right!”

“I don’t know,” said Jon. “All he’s got to do is get into the forest and they’ll have a job finding him.”

“He won’t survive out in the forest in his condition,” I said. “But if he goes into built up areas he’ll be caught. So, you’re right, if he’s still thinking
at all
, he’ll head for the forest. If he lies down and dies somewhere, they’ll have to keep his file open for years and years ‘cause they won’t know for certain he’s dead.” It would be his last act of defiance, to hide himself away somewhere, leave them guessing forevermore...

Bane was chuckling.

“So after delaying the trial by four months, he ensures it’s the worst trial in history, makes his confession only as a drooling madman, and
despite
being a drooling madman proceeds to disappear from a locked cell in a Detention Facility, probably never to be seen again. Margo, you’re right, it’s
priceless
.”

“They are
never
going to live that down!” Jon was cracking up as well.

“It serves them right,” I giggled, hugging Bane.

The door opened and Father Mark looked in.

“This is cheerful. Did I miss a joke?”

“Major... sorry,
Mr
Everington has escaped!” I told him.

“Completely given them the slip,” sniggered Bane.

“Disappeared into thin air,” said Jon, waving his arms in illustration.

Father Mark’s brows went up.

“I thought he was now a gibbering lunatic?”

“That’s what makes it all the more priceless,” said Bane, snorting with laughter. “A nutter has just walked through their security as though it wasn’t there!” He frowned suddenly, envy on his face. “Just shows. If you’re familiar
enough
with the system, it is possible.”

“We’ll find a way, Bane,” I said confidently. “We’ll sit down on Monday and we’ll crack it. You’ll see.”

 

Definitely a case of famous last words. Our little planning committee met on the Monday and hit a brick wall. A brick wall called Camera-room-now-manned-at-night, just like in a Detention Facility. Because with the camera room manned, it would require a firefight to get into the main building. A fire fight that, with no cover, we probably couldn’t win. And which would get many of us killed.

How
had
the Major done it?

“What about those nonLethal grenades?” said Jon. “Are we sure they’re no good?”

“They’re really
not
nonLethal, that’s the problem,” said Eduardo, who’d joined us. “They’re fifty-percent-lethal grenades. So if someone’s going to throw a grenade at you, they’re a distinct improvement, but they’re not something we can
use
.”

“How quickly could we get across the yards and into the main building?” Kyle said. “If we were fast enough, we might catch most of the guards in their barrack room...”

“In your dreams,” said Father Mark. “You said yourself you saw a camera in the guard tower. They’ll know as soon as we take out the tower guards, before we’re anywhere close to being able to blow the gates. It’s not going to work.”

“And we’re not doing the whole firefight thing,” said Bane grimly. “People will die – on both sides, probably. That’s a non-starter.”

“And we’ve no element of surprise,” I said gloomily. “I bet they’re just waiting for our next attempt.”

“If it’s not possible, it’s not possible,” said Eduardo calmly.

“But we’ve hit them where it hurts!” Bane thumped the table in frustration. “It would be so nice to do it again!”

“Well, we haven’t come up with a single feasible idea this morning,” said Father Mark. “Why don’t we call it a day today.”

“Meet again tomorrow, perhaps with a few of the others as well?” I suggested. “Alligator and Pussycat, perhaps.”

“Simply for a brainstorming session, we might as well get quite a few of them on board,” said Bane.

In the end we got the whole of Animal team together, but every proposed idea was judged unworkable.

“We need more detailed information,” fumed Bane. “Some of these ideas might work, if we only knew enough. Is there
any
chance of getting Facility security information, Eduardo? I know you said no, but we really need it...”

Eduardo looked apologetic – at least, as apologetic as he ever looked anything.

“They don’t keep that information on servers connected to the internet. They just keep it at EGD Security HQ and give hard copies to those who need to know. Facility Commandants, in other words. Of whom there are an insufficient number for the information to be readily acquirable. But I’ve had people questioning all the rescued reAssignees for any snippets they’ve observed, wittingly or unwittingly. I’m expecting that information in the post packet tonight.”

BOOK: Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3)
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