The System (17 page)

Thomas nodded. ‘Paranoia is good, Milo. But I think I can safely say that there is no way off this roof except through the hatch, and there are guards positioned all around it. Our friends need some fresh air, need to remember what it feels like. I want them to miss it. I also want them to be grateful to me. Gratitude can be a very powerful thing, Milo. But most of all I want Linus to realise that he can’t stop me getting the System, that Raffy can build it if he won’t, that Raffy is on our side. I want them to see that there is no hope. Because when they see that, Linus will build the System.’

‘I thought Raffy could build it anyway,’ Milo frowned as he watched Raffy look up at the sky. He was an alright kid really. Bit weird, bit intense, but what did you expect? He’d had a pretty intense life in a pretty intense place.

‘Possibly. But he’s unproven. I want Linus’s work. He’s the reason all of this is here. Linus is the one, Milo. It was all his idea.’

Milo considered this. He had never really spent much time with Linus; tried to avoid it whenever he could. The guy was seriously strange, with eyes that seemed to look right inside you. And the way he spoke made Milo feel stupid, like there was another layer he was missing, like Linus was playing with him, laughing at him behind his back. If it were up to him, they’d be scattering Linus’s ashes as well as Benjamin’s. And one day maybe it would be up to him. If he played his cards right. Thomas couldn’t live forever, after all.

‘So,’ he said. ‘Shall we start?’

Thomas nodded and walked towards the group; Milo followed a few steps behind.

‘So nice to see you all,’ he said. ‘Although I am saddened by the circumstances. Naturally you want to say goodbye to Benjamin. And naturally you will be reassured to know that we are in a very safe environment here. There is no way down from this roof except the way we came. So please don’t ruin this solemn occasion with any escape plans.’ He looked at Linus meaningfully; Linus smiled back, his expression opaque. Milo rolled his eyes in irritation.

‘Okay,’ he said, stepping forward. ‘Linus, you can say a few words, then you can all scatter the ashes. We have five minutes up here and then we’re going back to the apartment. So, Linus, would you like to begin?’

Linus nodded, moved forwards, brushing past Evie as he reached to take the ashes from Raffy. He held them silently for a few seconds, gazing at them as though trying to work out what to say. Then he looked up.

‘Benjamin was a good man and a good friend,’ he said eventually. ‘He was wise, he was brave, he was clever. And he knew what it meant to have failed, to have been weak, found the wrong path. He did all those things, and his understanding of failure made him a perfect leader, made him the good person that we loved so much …’

Milo cleared his throat then turned away. He had messages to read, messages to return; he didn’t intend to stand here listening to Linus, of all people, eulogising some freak from the UK who’d fried himself within minutes of arriving here. Particularly when he still hadn’t managed to track down Frankie, in spite of Paris having the best camera system in the world. How those imbeciles had let her go was, quite frankly, beyond Milo. Then again, they weren’t his men; Thomas had insisted on sending his own men to do the job, so Milo couldn’t even sack them for screwing up. But even so, she should have turned up by now. On some camera, somewhere.

Instead, the last film they had of her was walking away from that little prick Jim who had already been questioned several times with considerable force and who had insisted that she’d said she was going to Madrid to track down her father. He said he had no idea how she got a new chip; how the chip she’d been given was subsequently found on a lorry heading south. And Milo didn’t believe him, not for a minute, but he had no proof. Nothing. All he could hope was that she’d contact Jim again, and that meant letting him go, making him think that he wasn’t under suspicion. And in the meantime, the messages Frankie had received about the UK couldn’t be traced either; they appeared to bounce around the globe then disappear into the ether, just like she had apparently done.

Milo sighed in irritation. He missed her. He wanted her back, apologising for being such an idiot, telling him how she’d learnt her lesson. Not disappearing into thin air.

If he ever found out who had sent her those bloody messages in the first place, he would personally wring their neck.

Evie was looking at Linus but she didn’t hear a word he said. All she could hear was what he’d whispered to her a minute or so before. ‘You have to run, Evie. You have to jump. Level with the flag pole. When I say the word “pray”. Jump off the roof, Evie. Do it for Lucas.’

It was as though he’d looked into the darkest pit in her mind, read the thoughts festering there and agreed with them. It was over. There was nothing to do but follow Benjamin’s path, make sure that Thomas didn’t win. She would never see Lucas again. She would never …

She gulped, felt herself choking; she wanted to scream out, wanted to launch herself at Raffy, throw him off the roof because this was his fault, because time and again he had betrayed her, betrayed them all, made a fool of her because she had loved him once, because she had thought he was someone else.

And because she couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. She had to live; she had to fight. She had to believe. She wouldn’t leave Lucas in this world on his own, waiting for her.

‘There are things that Benjamin understood. Things that he instilled in everyone who joined his Settlement. That the more we learn, the more we understand, and understanding is the key to peace, to fulfilment. Benjamin created a civilisation in which people co-operated freely, happily; in which the common good was everyone’s aim. He was a man of hope, a man who had created this paradise out of hell; who had seen the darker side of life, who knew how easy it was to allow temptation and greed to consume us. But Benjamin also knew his limitations, knew the limitations of man. He was no idealist; he pinned his flag to no ideology. In fact he feared ideology; feared the rabid belief in any one system because he knew that it led only one way: to factions, to hatred, to resentment, to war. That is why he took his own life. He did not want to be part of what we are now part of. He wanted neither to open himself up to temptation, nor to be a pawn or hostage that would prompt others to act against their better judgement. He had lived a free and happy life and he died freely, too.

‘Benjamin was not a man of God; like me, he believed in the redemption of humankind, but by their own hand, using strength of will, belief and a desire for good. And yet, I believe a moment of reflection is important, thinking of Benjamin, what he meant to us, how significant he was and what a difference he made.’

Evie was sweating. She knew what was coming. She had to jump. For Benjamin. Had to jump off the roof. Had to be brave. She had to do this. So that Thomas wouldn’t win. So that Raffy had no reason to do Thomas’s bidding. She had to do it.

Her heart was pounding, she could barely hear, barely think; it was pounding, in her chest, in her head, her blood pumping through her like an out-of-control train. She saw Linus’s head turn, briefly, towards the spot he had shown her. The spot where the roof barriers dipped down just slightly. She had to run, step up on top of them and jump.

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t.

She thought of Lucas, thought of what he would do. Lucas, who had sacrificed himself again and again for what he believed in. Sacrificed himself out of loyalty. Sacrificed himself because he could; because he had no choice but to do what was right. Even if it caused him suffering. Even if …

‘And so, as we release Benjamin into the wind, let us all close our eyes, and pr …’

Evie didn’t hear him finish. She ran, desperately, before she could stop herself, before she became paralysed with fear. She ran to the barrier, climbed on top of it. She could hear shouting, could hear Raffy’s voice screaming through the wind, could hear footsteps running towards her. She could feel the wind on her face, the moist, cool air. ‘I love you, Lucas,’ she cried. And then she let herself go. She didn’t jump. She just stopped balancing, let herself fall. Into oblivion. Into a better place. A different place. Into a place where she could hold her head up high because she, too, had sacrificed.

Milo stared open-mouthed as the girl fell; rushed forwards, but it was too late. This was no escape plan. This was … Well, this was just weird. Were they all psychotic? Did they have some kind of self-destruct code that made them want to kill themselves?

‘Evie! Evie! What have you done? Evie!’ Raffy’s voice was all Milo could hear; he raced to the barriers to hold the boy, to stop him doing something stupid.

‘Raffy, easy there. She’s gone. She’s gone, Raffy.’

‘You killed her.’ He was like an attack dog now, his eyes wild, throwing himself at Milo. Milo looked over at the security guards, who immediately dragged Raffy off him. ‘I didn’t kill anyone, Raffy, and you know it. Take him downstairs,’ he ordered the guards. ‘Both of them.’

He looked over at Linus, who had not moved, his face as expressionless as always. And suddenly Milo knew that he knew something. He’d seen Linus talking to the girl. Had he put her up to it?

Milo walked towards him. ‘So you’re a murderer now, are you?’ he asked. ‘You told her to do that. You killed her. And for what? To make a point? There’s no point. This is the most fucking pointless thing you’ve ever done.’

Linus’s face turned thoughtful. ‘Thomas is running out of hostages, Milo,’ he said, quietly. ‘Power is a funny thing, you know. One minute you have it, the next …’

Milo stared at him then, without warning, hit him square in the jaw. He didn’t like Linus. Didn’t like the way he looked at him, didn’t like the way Thomas revered him. And he didn’t like people who killed other people to make a point.

The guards dragged Linus off, more aggressively than was necessary; Milo enjoyed watching them twist Linus’s arm behind his back, forcing him through the trap door so that he half fell down the steps.

Then, slowly, Thomas walked towards him. Thomas, who, like Linus, hadn’t moved when the girl had jumped, had simply watched silently, his expression unreadable.

‘Clear her up,’ he said. ‘And move them onto hunger rations. I want my System and I want it soon. Do you understand?’

‘Of course.’ Milo frowned. ‘Look, I told you I was paranoid, and now …’

‘Now you will clear up,’ Thomas cut in frostily. ‘Do it now.’

And before Milo could answer, Thomas turned and walked silently away, leaving Milo staring at the heavens.

He hated when things didn’t go according to plan.

He bloody hated it.

Evie felt herself wrapped in white. Like a sheet. The clouds, she thought to herself. So this is what it’s like: I am being wrapped in clouds. She closed her eyes, waited for the nothingness that she knew would come. She felt no pain; the clouds had caught her, broken her fall. Perhaps down below there was a body, her body, but it was not her. Not anymore. She was safe. She was comfortable. She was—

‘Quick. Stand up.’

She opened her eyes uncertainly to find two men staring at her. She wasn’t in the clouds. She was wrapped in a sheet that had caught her. She looked back up; could see the roof, like a speck, metres above. She looked back down again. She had jumped from the only bit of the roof that was indented, walls either side directing her fall. She had been caught by these men on purpose. Linus had known. Linus had planned it …

She felt disoriented, felt dizzy; she steadied herself against the wall and tried to work out what she was supposed to do now, where she was supposed to run.

Suddenly she felt a hand grab her arm.

‘Quickly,’ he hissed, as a car with blacked-out windows stopped in front of them. ‘Get in, quickly.’

She did as she was told; as the door closed behind her, the two men disappeared and the car sped away. She was alone in the back seat, unable to see who was driving her, no idea where she was going. All she knew was that Linus had done this, and that he had a plan. He always had a plan.

And she was alive.

That, for now, was something.

Evie sat in the back of the car staring at the world outside, her eyes wide, her whole body trembling, not with cold but with trepidation, with the realisation of what had just happened, of who would be chasing her, of what this meant.

The landscape whizzing by was so unfamiliar, so grey. And she felt a million miles away from home, a million miles away from anything she knew.

But she had escaped.

It was a small victory over Thomas, but a significant one.

They were not powerless.

The car stopped and the driver turned around. ‘You get out here,’ he said. He was thick-set, large, intimidating, but his eyes were kind. ‘You run that way. There’s a disused warehouse. A garage next to it. You’re to wait in there.’

Evie stared at him blankly. The man looked uncomfortable. ‘I have to go,’ he shrugged. ‘I have to get out of here. There’s a path right here. See it? Right where your door opens. Run down it; it veers to the right, just follow it round, okay? You’ll find the warehouse. You’ll find the garage. You’ll be fine. Someone will come for you. But me, I have to go.’

Evie nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said, then she got out of the car and started to run. She heard the car speeding off. She had no idea where she was or where she was going, but she didn’t have time to worry. The path appeared to stop abruptly, but as she got closer she realised that it did indeed curve round to the right so she followed it onto a scrap of wasteland. There was another path on the other side; behind it she could see the warehouse.

Evie followed the driver’s instructions blindly; she had no other choice. She stumbled several times on brambles as she ran, but kept herself low, joined the path, ran past the warehouse and, sure enough, behind it there were three garages. Two of them were locked; the last was open. She was panting, but it felt good to be moving; for months now she had been virtually immobile, a prisoner, watching the world on screens as others lived their lives in front of her, as she sat, unable to join them, unable to do anything except hope and pray that one day it would end – that she would escape or die. Now she realised how much she had been hungering for activity, for sunlight, for the smell of outside air. The scratches on her legs were welcome; they were real, they reminded her that she could feel. And it made her want to cry, made her want to shout with anger and rage at what Thomas had done, made her want to pull out her own hair so that she could gasp with the pain. But now was not the time; she knew that. She was out; that was enough. Now she had to do as the driver had told her. Did he work for Linus? How was that possible? She didn’t know, but now wasn’t the time to ask questions