Toxic Treacle (11 page)

Danger Aloft!

‘That must've been who Moni was contacting by the bridge,' Angel said.

‘The little traitor!' Monkey banged his hand against the gate in anger. ‘How could she?'

‘Keep your voice down,' Angel warned, tugging his sleeve. ‘Come on.'

They set off across the recently furrowed field, keeping close to the hedge and crouching low so that their heads wouldn't be seen. Clods of earth clung to their feet making it heavy going. Then they heard the sound that they'd both been dreading: dogs!

‘Oh for...!' Monkey kicked aimlessly at the earth, exasperated. ‘This is pointless! We might as well give ourselves up - we'll never outrun dogs.'

‘Listen,' Angel dropped her voice as she tried to control her breathing after the exertion of walking through the muddy, rutted soil.

Monkey held his breath and listened. He could hear yelping and, above that, the cries of the dog handlers but farther away, almost at the very edge of his hearing range was something else; faint but clear - running water.

‘They can't track us through water,' Angel said. ‘When we get to the river, they'll assume we're heading upstream back to town, so if we go the other way, it might throw them.'

Monkey looked at her: the moonlight reflected across her cheeks and the tip of her nose. He thought she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. ‘You're...' he started to voice his thoughts, but embarrassment overcame him. ‘...very clever, aren't you?' he finished, lamely.

‘Yes,' she replied, with no hint of conceit. ‘Now, come on!'

They made it to the stream and, just as Angel had predicted, the dogs lost the scent and their handlers made the erroneous assumption that they would make their way back to town. They waded through the freezing water, sometimes thigh deep, until dawn broke, grey and hazy. Only then, when they could see their surroundings, did they leave the stream and seek refuge in a disused watermill.

Cold, tired and wet, they collapsed onto a pile of old paper sacks on the floor of the mill. It was too dangerous even to attempt to light a fire and their clothes clung to them, chilling them to the core.

‘We should take it in turns to sleep while the other keeps guard,' Monkey said. He put his arm round Angel's shoulder and pulled some of the sacks over her knees. ‘You go first.' He put his other arm across her, pulling her to him, protectively and she fell into a deep, immediate sleep with her head on his chest. Try as he might to stop his eyelids from closing, within minutes, Monkey had joined her.

It was dusk again when they woke and their clothes, although still damp, had almost dried from their body heat. Monkey stood up and stretched. His stomach rumbled.

‘I'm starving.'

‘Me too, but we need to get back.' Angel took the paper Jane had given her from her pocket. It was damp and crumpled but the address of the safe house was still visible - just. ‘I know Jane said only to use this in an emergency, but I think this qualifies.'

Monkey agreed and they headed back to town and the safe house Jane had suggested. Under cover of night, they followed the river upstream as it meandered back towards town. A field of late Brussels sprouts and a store of turnips provided them with the worst meal Monkey had ever tasted - or ever hoped to taste again. He consoled himself with the thought that, even if he got caught, the food on The Farm couldn't be any worse than that.

It was still Energy Conservation Shut Down when they entered the town from the west, along the north bank of the river, by the Uplands Lunar Park.

‘Where is this safe house, anyway?' Monkey asked.

Angel retrieved the paper and handed it to him. He stopped. ‘No way!'

‘What's the problem?' There was irritation in her voice. She was tired and anxious, and just wanted to reach safety.

‘This is Danger's address.'

‘Jordan Grainger?' Angel queried. ‘You sure?'

‘I should know - I've been there enough times.' He paused, thinking aloud. ‘I'm just hoping this isn't some sort of stitch-up. I mean, Danger's hardcore hood. And his nurturer's a teacher - pro-Assembly through and through.'

Angel gnawed at her bottom lip. ‘What should we do?'

Monkey sighed. ‘What choice do we have? They'll be looking for us at our own homes and there's no way we can go back to the village. Short of living off raw sprouts for the rest of our lives, this is all we've got.'

Angel nodded wearily and, once again, they set off through the suburbs.

The fact that Monkey knew the house made it easier for them to make their way through the rear sustenance patches to the back door, thus avoiding any cameras that might have been trained on Danger's street.

Monkey buzzed the voice-com several times before a sleepy female voice responded.

‘I've been given this address by some people in Combe Magna.' Monkey said simply, without identifying himself.

There was silence before the voice replied, ‘There are several ways to care for offspring.'

Monkey narrowed his eyes and looked to Angel for some sort of guidance. She moved closer to the grille on the voice-com and spoke quietly. ‘Mov Grainger, if that's part of some sort of password, we don't know the rest of it, but we've been given this address by Jane Patterson.'

The voice-com clicked silent, leaving them standing at the back door for several minutes before Danger's nurturer opened the door a fraction and, with the security bar in place, spoke to them through a narrow crack.

‘Security has your picture plastered all over town, Mickey.' She looked at Angel. ‘And yours too, if you're Angelina.' She was still in her nightclothes and Monkey noticed her pull her dressing gown closer.

‘Can we come in - please?' Monkey asked.

Mov Grainger hesitated. ‘Why have you come here?'

‘We were told this was a safe house,' Angel explained.

The nurturer seemed reluctant. ‘I'm not expecting any visitors.'

Monkey was feeling desperate. He could sense Angel's exhaustion and despair. He put his arm round her for comfort and explained to Danger's nurturer about the raid on the village. The shock on her face was evident, even through the narrow gap between the door and the jamb.

‘Go on,' she said.

‘We've no idea how many were arrested,' he continued. ‘They might have got away. We did. We went along the river and then doubled back on ourselves. Moni Morrison was involved and...' he faltered, ‘...my sister.'

Mov Grainger opened the door and ushered them inside. ‘Did anyone follow you?' she asked, urgently peering round the door into the sustenance patch.

‘Don't think so,' Monkey said. ‘But then, we didn't think anyone had followed us to the village.'

‘What's done is done,' the nurturer said, pragmatically. ‘Hopefully, you'll have learnt from it. Now, you look as though you need a hot shower and a decent meal. Keep the noise down, my son and daughter are asleep.'

After they had bathed and eaten breakfast, Monkey and Angel were shown upstairs into a spare room where Mov Grainger pulled an old-fashioned wardrobe away from the wall to reveal a staircase that went into the attic.

‘You'll stay up here for the time being.' Danger's nurturer showed them a row of mattresses along the eaves and a bucket behind a screen to be used as a toilet. She lit an oil lamp on a small table which also had a variety of playing cards, books and pre-revolution board games on it. There was also a one-way intercom where the occupants of the loft could hear what was going on downstairs so that they would know when to be quiet and when they were safe. And there was a cupboard with bottles of water and packets of biscuits.

‘I think you've got everything you'll need.' She held out her hand. ‘And I'll take your ring-cams if I may.'

Monkey pulled his hand to his chest, defensively. ‘It's turned off - has been since we arrived at the village, the night Fuse...'

‘You'll be issued with new ones in good time,' she went on brusquely. ‘Ones that have a different encryption. But these must be destroyed.'

Angel handed hers over and nudged Monkey to do the same. ‘You know we'd be tempted to use them if we keep them.'

Reluctantly, Monkey pulled his off his finger and placed it in her palm. ‘Mov Grainger...'

The woman smiled for the first time since they'd arrived on her doorstep. ‘You can call me Pat.'

‘Pat,' Monkey went on, ‘does Danger know about all this?' He made a sweeping movement, indicating the secret loft room.

‘Jordan is like the rest of us - he knows what I, as his next in line, think it advisable for him to know, on a strictly need-to-know basis.'

Monkey looked puzzled. ‘But does that mean...'

‘What it means is,
you
don't need to know anything more! Now, I'll be going to work at O-7:30 and home again about 18:00 hours this evening. You do not come down from here - under any circumstances. Do I make myself clear?'

‘Absolutely,' Angel said, flopping down on one of the mattresses.

‘Fine,' agreed Monkey, somewhat less wholeheartedly.

He stood at the top of the stairs as Pat left, watching her step back into the spare room and push the wardrobe back into place. As he watched the crack of artificial light slowly disappear, he stared down into the darkness, feeling claustrophobic and frustrated. He had too much to do to be locked in here until Pat got home that evening. He needed to be out there finding out what had happened to Tragic and his family; he wanted to find Penny and give her a piece of his mind and he needed to make sure that Angel's name was cleared of any involvement.

Although he was physically tired, his mind was in overdrive. He picked up the playing cards and tossed them down again in disdain. Then opened the cupboard and shut it again feeling disgruntled and helpless.

‘What time is it?' he asked Angel.

‘Don't know,' she yawned. ‘It was about four when we got here, so probably about five o'clock by now.'

‘I'm gonna need more than a few biscuits to keep me going for the next thirteen hours,' he said, grumpily. ‘I'll see if she can get us any more food - and maybe a games console or something. Do you want anything?'

But Angel didn't answer - she was already asleep.

Stealthily, he took the oil lamp from the table and crept down the stairs. Placing the lamp on the bottom step he pushed the back of the wardrobe that faced him. It didn't move. He pressed his shoulder against it but still nothing. Finally, he turned so that his back was against the wooden panel and, with his feet on the second step, he straightened his legs. Slowly, he felt the wardrobe inch forwards. He moved down slightly and repeated the procedure, edging it out millimetre by millimetre. He turned the other way and sat on the step, putting his feet against the wood and pushing with all his strength. To his horror, he felt it tip forwards beyond its centre of gravity. He tried to grab it and steady it, but it was too heavy for him and it teetered then tumbled forwards, crashing to the floor in the spare room and splintering into pieces.

Lights went on and doors opened. Pat appeared in her nightgown from one room, Danger from another and his older sister, Beth from another. A light flickered on from the ground floor and Monkey heard footsteps running up the stairs.

‘It's OK!' Pat called out, through clenched teeth.

A provider appeared from downstairs. He was fully clothed in the uniform of a Security officer. Monkey gasped. It was his head teacher, Professor Reed.

Best Laid Schemes

Danger wiped sleep from his eyes and stared at his friend. ‘Monk? What're you doing here?'

‘Beth, Jordan - go back to bed,' Professor Reed said calmly. ‘Pat and I will handle this.'

Beth sighed and kissed Professor Reed on the forehead with a perfunctory, ‘Bye, Dad,' before retreating to her room and shutting the door. But Danger hovered on the landing, eager to speak to his former hood member. Monkey looked from his mate to his head teacher and back to Danger again.

‘What's happening here? Am I missing something?'

Pat stepped in. ‘I told you, Mickey, from now on, everything you are told will be on a need-to-know basis.'

‘And you think I don't need to know why someone who pretends to be a straight-down-the-line Party man is in the place I've been told is a safe house - dressed in a Security uniform?'

Pat and Professor Reed looked at each other. Professor Reed spoke.

‘You're right. Go back upstairs and Pat will explain everything. Right now, I need to get back to the Providers' Zone before the lights go on.' He tapped his chest. ‘This is a disguise that gets me across town without looking suspicious - it's nothing to worry about. I can assure you, this
is
a safe house.' He turned to Pat. ‘Don't worry about this mess: I'll sort something out tonight.' He addressed Monkey once again, ‘It's even more imperative that you lie low until we get something to conceal the loft access.' He fixed him with a look that told Monkey he would brook no argument. ‘I mean it, Mickey. You could endanger the entire movement if you're discovered.'

Professor Reed left and Monkey followed the nurturer back up the loft. She spoke in whispers to avoid waking Angel, who had managed to sleep through the commotion in the bedroom below. She explained that she and Jack, as she referred to Professor Reed, were the parents of Jordan and his older sister, Beth. They were not a couple in the sense that Jane and Tom were a couple but they were friends and had worked in partnership to raise their offspring since Jordan had been born fifteen years previously. In fact, they had been part of the counter-revolutionary movement since its inception and had worked undercover, assisting others to parent together. They had helped to sneak out thousands of nurturers and providers and set up dozens of communities in the rurals. All their energies at the moment, Pat told him, were going into canvassing nurturers and spins to vote for The Unity Party, so that they could subvert the election and ensure the downfall of Distaff.

Monkey thought about everything he'd just learnt. ‘So, when Tragic first disappeared and the Prof was interrogating me about where he'd gone, he knew all the time?'

Pat nodded. ‘He'd arranged their safe passage. He just needed to find out how much you knew.' She looked at him sternly. ‘And you almost blew everything with your little escapade that night.'

Monkey shrugged. ‘How was I to know?'

Pat smiled, almost affectionately. ‘You weren't - and thank goodness for that or you might
really
have let the cat out of the bag.' Monkey's eyes were heavy and he struggled to keep them open. ‘You need to get some sleep,' she continued. ‘You're going to have to keep your wits about you from now on.'

She left him, and Monkey crawled across to the mattresses beneath the eaves where Angel was curled up under the blankets. He held up the lamp and took a moment to look at her - hair fanned out across the cushion that acted as a pillow, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath. He blew out the flame and lay down next to her, moulding himself into the contours of her body. Angel was warm and clean - and smelt of heaven. He pulled the edge of the blanket across himself and draped his arm over her, drawing her to him until he felt both protective and protected. Within seconds, he was sound asleep.

When he woke, it was to find a cold, empty space next to him. He sat up, disorientated. He felt anxious, but couldn't work out why. The soft glow of the oil lamp illuminated an area ahead of him allowing him to make out the rafters of the roof and the cupboard with the biscuits. He stretched. It was all coming back to him: the escape from the village; the arrival at the safe house; Angel. Angel! Where was she? He looked round for her; patted the blankets to make sure she hadn't snuggled down out of sight, then felt a flood of relief as muted voices filtered through his consciousness and he recognised one of them as hers.

She was sitting at the top of the stairs talking to Danger. They were whispering and, instantly, Monkey felt a knot of jealousy just beneath his sternum.

‘Wazzappenin'?' he asked, stumbling over the mattresses to join them.

‘Jordan's just been filling me in on the destruction of the wardrobe incident.' Angel smiled, leant forwards and kissed Monkey on the lips. ‘I can't believe I slept through it.'

Monkey felt his anxiety ease but he put his arm round her shoulder anyway - just to let Danger know the full nature of their relationship. ‘So, when will we get new ring-cams?' he asked, changing the subject.

‘Won't be for a while,' Danger answered. ‘Dad has to sort it out with the tech guys. They do the encryption.'

There was that word again -
dad
. Monkey felt another pang of jealousy. First Tragic; now Danger. How many more of his friends had secret fathers?

‘So, how's this dad thing work, anyway?' he asked. ‘How come you never said anything?'

Danger shrugged. ‘Dad told me not to.'

Monkey was sceptical. ‘And so - what? You just decided that, because he's said not to, you wouldn't?'

Danger thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yeah, something like that. It was harder when he got appointed to Moonstone Academy. Do you remember that time we nearly moved away?' Monkey nodded. ‘That was in case I let slip.'

‘I think it's amazing the way you can keep a secret like that,' Angel remarked.

‘So, how come you went out storming with the rest of us?' Monkey challenged. ‘How come your
dad
didn't step in and stop you?'

‘Think about it, Monk. What's the fastest way to raise suspicion?'

‘Of course,' Angel said. ‘You have to blend in to keep everyone off your case.'

Danger gave an ironic smile. ‘And I'll graduate too - go off to the Zone like a good little breeder - do my duty.'

‘But why?' Monkey queried, aware that, less than a month ago, he couldn't wait to graduate. ‘How can you? I mean, when you know there's an alternative.' He shook his head. It was different when he'd believed all the T.R.E.A.C.L.E. hype but, now that he knew the reality, there was no way he could graduate!

‘We need insiders.' Danger said, philosophically. ‘Anyway, it might all change after the election.'

‘But what if it doesn't? You'll have graduated and you might end up getting chosen by someone you don't...' He looked at Angel and blushed. ‘...you know ...don't
like
.'

Danger grinned sheepishly and slipped into the street talk he and Monkey had used as Mooners. ‘Ways and means, cuz, ways and means.' He tapped the side of his nose, knowingly. ‘There's ways round everything. Trust me - I ain't doing nothing with no one if the vibe ain't right.'

‘How...?'

‘If nothing happens, it don't count. So, you just make sure it ain't happening - you get me?'

Angel looked perplexed. ‘But doesn't that mess with the nurturer's chance to have offs?'

Danger shook his head. ‘Two people book into the Centre; they come out next day, give their report to the clerk on the desk. If everything's fridge it goes on file, if not, the clerk conveniently drops it in the incinerator. Happens all the time. I should know - my sister works at the Breeding Centre.'

Monkey's ears pricked up. ‘Your sister?'

‘Yeah!'

‘Beth?'

‘Durr - yeah!'

‘The one who lives here?'

‘What of it?'

A plan was formulating in Monkey's mind. ‘What's her job?'

‘She's in the Citizen Resources Department. Why?'

Monkey thought for a moment. ‘Does she have access to the records?'

‘Is this some quirky quiz or you gonna tell me what's happenin', Monk?'

Monkey ignored Danger and turned to Angel. ‘I'm thinking, Beth could go through the records and find out who my breeder was.'

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!' Danger interjected. ‘No way!'

Monkey turned on his friend. ‘It's OK for you and Tradge - you've got your
fathers.
I haven't got a clue who bred me. I don't even know if he's still alive.' He held his friend with a glare that bordered on hostility. ‘I don't think anyone has the right to deny me that information - let alone someone who's supposed to be supporting
the cause!
'

Danger thought for a moment then nodded. ‘Let me speak to her - OK?' There was a click on the intercom suggesting that someone had entered the house and closed the door. Quickly, Danger scrambled down the stairs into the spare room. He looked up at Monkey and put his finger to his lips. ‘But not a word to Mum or Dad,' he mouthed, before disappearing into his bedroom.

Later that evening, when a new cupboard had been found to block the entrance to the loft, Beth took them some supper.

‘Jordan tells me that you want me to get some information for you.'

Monkey fell on the tray of food as though he hadn't eaten in weeks, picking up a leg of chicken and ripping at it with his teeth. ‘S'right. Can you do it?' he asked between mouthfuls.

‘I can't do it myself. I'm still in training and fully supervised but I know someone who might be able to get you into the Centre out of hours so you can look it up yourself.'

Monkey looked up, astounded. ‘Seriously? Break in?'

Beth smiled, ‘No so much breaking in as
getting
in.'

Monkey looked at Angel and she shrugged as if to say
it
's your call.
He thought for a moment. ‘Look at it this way: I'm already in it up to my neck. What's to lose?'

‘OK then,' Beth went on. ‘If it goes ahead, you'll have to go on the iris scanner and you can get in disguised as cleaners. It'll probably take a day or two to put everything in place.'

‘Fridge!' Monkey smiled. A couple of days holed up in the loft with Angel, resting and with all his food provided wasn't so bad. He could live with that.

The following night, Beth came to them with a portable iris and thumb-print scanner and, the next evening, she provided them with false identity papers. Angel was to be an eighteen-year-old pre-nurturer called Roxanne Spall who lived in de Beauvoir Tower on the Broadwalk Estate: Monkey, a seventeen-year-old breeder called Aston Holmes. Their uniforms and trolleys would be waiting for them in the janitor's cupboard in the lobby of de Beauvoir Tower the following morning at six and they would have exactly three hours to collect their equipment, walk to the Breeding Centre, find the information they needed and be out of the building before the day staff came on duty at nine.

‘How is all this happening if you're so well-supervised?' Angel queried, eyeing the false documents.

‘I'm not the one sourcing this. I'm one link in a very large network. I just put it in motion.'

Angel looked sceptical. ‘But why would people who don't know us go to all this effort?'

Beth smiled. ‘It's what the movement is all about - rebuilding families. The more fathers we can link with their offspring, the more power our organisation has. But secrecy is crucial - that's why I mustn't be directly involved and you mustn't know where this is coming from.'

Angel nodded, seemingly satisfied.

Beth handed them a blueprint. ‘This is a plan of the building - the Records Office is in the basement. You'll need both iris and thumb scans to enter the building, after that, it's just iris scans internally.' She handed Monkey a piece of paper. ‘This is the password to the info-processors. They're voice-activated but clerks use whichever machine's available, so they're not selective - you can use any one of them. If you need to use the keyboard, make sure you use gloves.' Monkey and Angel both nodded solemnly. ‘Keep your heads down when you're moving around - especially in the lifts. Don't let any of the cameras get a full facial shot.' Monkey looked at Angel and offered a reassuring smile. ‘If anything goes wrong, you don't know me,' Beth said, looking from one to the other. ‘Is that understood?'

They nodded again.

‘If Dad's here, he leaves the house at five, so, just to be on the safe side, I'll open up for you at four tomorrow morning.' Beth stood to leave. ‘Do not come back here with anything traceable - destroy it as soon as you're out. OK? Oh, and there'll be a tin of spray paint on the trolley, use it to take out the cameras - before you change into the cleaners' outfits.' Then she disappeared down the stairs into the main house and pushed the cupboard against the opening.

‘Broadwalk?' Monkey looked at Angel and grimaced. ‘Couldn't she have chosen somewhere else? Anywhere else?' Memories of Fuse's death at the hands of the Broadwalk hood came back to him.

‘I suppose it's wherever they've got contacts,' Angel reasoned.

Monkey was agitated. ‘Yes, but it'll be bad enough going over there during Shut-Down, but it'll be daylight by the time we get out of there. Believe me, being in Broadwalk in the day is no joke.' He paced the floor of the loft. ‘Shiltz!' he sighed, then sat down next to Angel. He took her hands in his. ‘I'm going to go on my own. It's too dangerous for you...'

‘No way!' she moved closer. ‘I've been to the village with you; I've evaded Security with you; I've even been chased by dogs with you - twice!' She raised his hand and placed hers against it so that their palms were touching, then laced her fingers through his. ‘We are in this together. No arguments!' She kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘Anyway, I'd like to know who my father is, too, you know.'