by Gemma Malley
Linus’s eyes were glistening in the moonlight. ‘Part camp, part city,’ he mused. ‘Most interesting.’
They were close, Lucas realised with a jolt of relief. They’d be stopping soon. ‘Do you have any weapons in this car?’ he asked.
Linus grinned. ‘Oh, we don’t need weapons,’ he said, his eyes twinkling. ‘Not right now anyway.’
‘You’re sure about that?’ Lucas asked uncertainly.
‘We need information. You don’t get that with weapons,’ Linus said.
Lucas opened his mouth to ask a question, then decided against it and instead leant back in the seat and waited for the car to stop. It slowed right down and Linus started to drive towards what looked like a mountain of rock. As they approached, Lucas realised that there was an opening: Linus had chosen another cave for his car. They purred in, then he turned off the engine and they found themselves in total darkness. Seconds later, Linus brought out a torch and got out.
Lucas followed. The ground was rocky. Tentatively, he followed Linus out to the mouth of the cave, gratefully breathing in fresh air.
‘Let’s find out what they’re up to, shall we?’ Linus said, and upped his pace. Lucas nodded and followed him.
They walked for about half an hour in total silence. And then, without warning, Linus stopped, causing Lucas to almost bump into him.
‘What?’ he whispered.
‘There,’ Linus said, pointing to a pile of rocks. ‘We can watch them from here.’
Silently he moved towards the rocks then began to climb up. ‘You coming?’
Lucas hesitated. The lights were brighter. He reckoned the camp, or whatever it was, was about half a mile away. Even from here he could tell it was huge, far bigger than anything Lucas had imagined. It was made up of a cluster of large low buildings in the centre, surrounded by hundreds of smaller ones surrounding them.
‘Pre-fab,’ Linus said knowledgeably. ‘Impermanent structures, but they’ll have taken a while to build. These people are serious.’
‘Serious about what?’ Lucas asked.
‘That’s the question,’ Linus shrugged. ‘And what I think we have established is that we’re not going to get anywhere watching them from these hills. We need to get inside.’
‘With no weapons? You got any ideas?’ Lucas asked.
‘I’ve got one,’ Linus said, a little glint in his eye. ‘But you might not like it.’
‘Try me,’ Lucas said drily.
‘Well,’ Linus said thoughtfully. ‘If we’re found in there, we die. But if they bring one of us in …’
‘As a prisoner?’ Lucas frowned.
‘Not quite. Prisoners tend to get locked up, beaten, tortured. I don’t know what they’re like here but we know they’re not afraid of killing people. No, I have another idea.’
‘So, what is it?’ Lucas said impatiently.
Linus looked thoughtful. ‘It’s risky but I think it might work,’ he said. ‘Go look over there. Over the edge of the hill. Tell me what you see.’
Lucas opened his mouth to tell Linus he could go and look for himself, then decided against it and started to climb.
‘I can’t see anything,’ he said.
‘Further up,’ Linus called up to him, pointing towards the top of the rock. Lucas pulled himself up; it was only as he reached the very top that he realised, too late, that Linus was right behind him; too late for him to realise what was happening, too late to stop himself being thrown head first over the small cliff to the ground below.
20
‘You like this music, Devil?’ Thomas turned around, a half-smile on his face. He was not a handsome man, but there was steel in his eyes that told Devil he had authority. His eyes were close set, his hair cut short, but his wrist sported an expensive Swiss watch and his suit looked hand made.
Devil shrugged. ‘I guess,’ he said noncommittally. It wasn’t his sort of music. Jangling guitars. The sort of thing played by white boys with long fringes. The sort of thing he might have listened to years ago. ‘It’s a new band. I think they’re going to go a long way,’ the man said, his fingers drumming on his thigh, his head nodding in rhythm. Then he grinned. ‘Actually, I know they’re going to go a long way, because I’m going to see that they do. You know the phrase “familiarity breeds contempt”? It’s bullshit. The more we hear something, the more we like it. I hated this music the first time I heard it but now I love it.’
Devil shrugged, a non-verbal ‘whatever’. He pulled his hood over his head. He didn’t really know what Thomas was talking about and so he did what he always did when he wasn’t sure about something and ignored him. ‘Ignorance is failure,’ his father used to say. ‘Ignorance is weakness. And if you’re weak, the strong will walk all over you. You have to be one step ahead. You have to see what’s coming. You have to be educated, informed, so no one takes you for a ride, you understand, son?’
‘You smoke that shit?’ Thomas was looking at his cigarettes.
Devil’s eyes narrowed defensively. ‘They’re no shit,’ he retorted. ‘Silk Cut. Genuine article.’ They were the cigarettes his father had smoked. ‘Middle-class cigarettes’, his father had called them.
‘They’re all shit,’ Thomas said. ‘They pollute your insides. Kill you if they can. Nothing good about being an addict, Devil. Nothing at all.’
Devil looked at him insolently.
Thomas smiled. ‘You’re angry with me because you think I’m belittling you. Right?’
Devil didn’t answer.
‘Maybe I am,’ Thomas shrugged. ‘But if you have a habit like that you’re asking for it. You’re giving power to the cigarette manufacturers, letting them own you. People used to belittle me, but not any more. Now they wouldn’t dare. I own my own destiny. I make my own destiny.’
Devil stared ahead, sullenly. He was angry, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He’d take it out on someone later.
‘How come you knew my name?’ he asked.
Thomas smiled. ‘Actually I know more than your name, Devil. I know you. Know all about you.’
‘Yeah?’ Devil shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
‘Yeah,’ Thomas said thoughtfully. ‘Shame about that kid, huh? Must make you feel like shit. I mean, it was your fault he killed himself, right? You’re going to have to live with that for the rest of your life.’
Devil just managed to stop himself launching himself at Thomas but just in time he remembered that he couldn’t win, not with these two big guys either side of him. ‘It wasn’t nothing to do with me,’ he said instead, his eyes dark with anger, with defiance.
Thomas laughed. ‘We both know that’s not true, Devil. You know, if you play with people’s lives you’ve got to be able to take the consequences. Live with them. Embrace them. Can’t be lying to yourself. Surely your father taught you that?’
Devil’s head turned sharply. Thomas laughed.
‘Oh, I know about your father. Know all about him. That’s why you’re here.’
Devil closed his eyes for a few seconds then he opened them. ‘We don’t have any of his money,’ he said then. ‘Whatever you think I’ve got, I ain’t. He took it all with him. I ain’t got nothing.’
‘I know that,’ Thomas said reassuringly. Then the car indicated and pulled into a large warehouse. Devil looked around nervously. There were no other people. It looked like no one else ever came here.
‘Don’t be scared,’ Thomas said, smiling again. ‘We’re just here to talk. Nothing else.’
Devil looked away. How did this guy read him so easily? It unsettled him. More than that, it pissed him off.
The man on Devil’s left got out of the car, so did Thomas. Then they changed places. Devil felt his throat go dry.
‘Mmmm,’ Thomas said, leaning back against the seat. ‘That’s the mark of a great car. As comfortable in the back as it is in the front. Shows your passengers respect. Respect is important, Devil. Don’t you think?’
Devil shrugged. He wished this guy wou
ld get to the point. Tell him what he wanted. Then at least he’d know what he was dealing with.
‘Trouble is,’ Thomas continued, ‘people don’t show each other respect very much, do they? People don’t know what respect is. They’ve lost their way, Devil. They focus all their attention on things that don’t matter, and none of their attention on things that do. Like respect. Like manners. They’re too busy taking drugs, accumulating things. They’ve forgotten what life is about, Devil. Don’t you agree?’
‘I guess,’ Devil said, noncommittally.
‘You guess, huh?’ Thomas replied thoughtfully. ‘You think your mother has her priorities right? You think she had her priorities right when your little sister fell out of that window?’
Devil stiffened.
‘Thing is, Devil, it wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t to blame. It’s society’s fault. It should have helped her instead of leaving her to fend for herself, broke, broken. She’s not the first person to turn to alcohol, to drugs, to gambling, to whatever there is available. But she is part of the problem, Devil. People need leadership and no one’s leading them.’
Devil didn’t say anything. He hated his mother, hated her weakness, the way she crumpled when his father left, the way she cried all the time, saying that she used to be a someone, that he’d taken that away from her, when he hadn’t taken anything because she wasn’t no one when he married her. Or didn’t marry her. Whatever. Point was, Leona was her responsibility. Not him, he could look after himself. But Leona was little. She needed her mum. And her mum let her down. Her mum was a fucking laughing stock. A mess.
But she was still his mum. It was one thing hating her; it was another thing hearing this guy Thomas slag her off.
‘Whatever,’ he said.
‘Whatever? You can do better than that,’ Thomas said. He moved closer, put his hand on Devil’s arm. ‘You know what I’m talking about because you sell those lowlifes drugs,’ he whispered. ‘You see it all around you. The scum. The sheep. You know that they’re worthless. You know that. The other gangs. Your own gang. They’re not winners, are they, Devil? They’re losers. All of them.’
Devil didn’t move an inch. ‘You knew my dad?’ he asked.
‘Know your dad,’ Thomas said. ‘I know him well. And he wants to help you. Wants me to help you. See, we’ve got a plan, Devil. A plan to change things. To change them for good. What I want to know is whether you want to help us. Whether you want to change things. Clear the slates. Get rid of the dross. Start again.’
Devil looked at him strangely. ‘I dunno what you’re talking about,’ he said.
Thomas smiled. ‘Yes you do. You know the Bible, Devil. I bet you know it off by heart.’ Devil raised an eyebrow and Thomas laughed. ‘Tell me about Genesis chapter 6.’
Devil said nothing.
Thomas’s eyes hardened. ‘Tell me,’ he said.
Devil looked at him warily. ‘Noah’s ark?’ he asked.
‘Noah’s ark,’ Thomas smiled again. ‘A new beginning. Tell me. Tell me the story.’
Devil shifted uncertainly in his seat. ‘You want me to tell you the story of Noah’s ark?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Devil. I’m waiting. And I don’t like to wait.’
Devil shook his head. He wasn’t a performing monkey.
The big guy on his right moved closer. ‘Tell him the story,’ he said, his voice low and threatening. Devil met his eyes; turned back to Thomas. Shit. He was going to have to do it. Shit.
Reluctantly he began to recite, his voice low, almost a whisper. Like he used to recite the Bible for his father. Wanting to please him. Wanting to see a proud smile on his face, not wanting to anger him. ‘And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘Louder,’ Thomas instructed him, closing his eyes.
Devil sighed inwardly. ‘That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose.’
‘And?’ Thomas asked. ‘Then what?’
‘And the Lord said, My spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh: yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years.’
Devil stopped, and Thomas’s eyes opened again. ‘More,’ he said. ‘Keep going.’
Devil’s eyes narrowed. ‘There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown. And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented the LORD that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart.’
‘Grieved him at his heart,’ Thomas nodded appreciatively. ‘That’s about right. Now come on. You’re just getting to the best bit.’
Devil rolled his eyes. ‘And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them. But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord.’
Thomas’s eyes opened and he smiled, broadly. ‘There we go,’ he said. ‘He destroyed all the wicked men and he saved Noah. Because Noah walked with him, because Noah wasn’t like the rest of them. See, Devil? Do you see now?’
Devil shook his head. ‘See what?’ he asked.
Thomas laughed. ‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘It’s time we got back.’
He opened the door. ‘See what?’ Devil asked again.
Thomas stopped, turned, his face still creased into a grin. ‘You’ll find out soon enough. You going to help me, Devil? You going to help your dad make things better?’
‘Why should I?’ The words came out before Devil could check himself, but Thomas didn’t look angry.
‘Because,’ he said, ‘you know you want to.’
‘I don’t know nothing like that,’ Devil retorted, emboldened by the fact that no one had laid a finger on him. Maybe these big guys weren’t so tough after all. Maybe this Thomas was all talk and nothing else.
‘Oh yes you do,’ Thomas said. His voice was soft suddenly, thoughtful. ‘You think that running some shitty little gang in a shitty little estate is a worthwhile thing to be doing? You think that you’re a someone because you can intimidate ten-year-old boys into running errands for you? You’re a no one, Devil. You carry on like this and you’ll be in prison within the year. A failure. A loser. You work for me, and you’ll be a someone. You’ll be doing something important. Something your father believes in. Something he’s been working on for a very long time. So you tell me, Devil. Do you want to help me, or not?’
‘You work for my father?’ Devil asked, his eyes widening slightly.
‘I don’t work for anyone, Devil,’ Thomas said. ‘Just answer the question.’ There was steel in his voice, an implied threat. Devil stared at him. He was angry. He’d been insulted. But even though he’d never admit it, he also knew Thomas was right. The gang was shit. Everything was shit. Ever since the boy had killed himself, Devil hadn’t been able to shake a feeling of emptiness, of pointlessness, of anger, at the boy, at himself for letting it happen, for not being two steps ahead. He’d told himself he didn’t care; had told himself it was a neat ending to a problem, that he couldn’t have orchestrated things better if he’d tried. But he hadn’t really believed it. And now … Now Thomas was making sense. It wasn’t his fault; none of it was his fault. It was society’s fault. It was all the losers, getting in the way.
Now he had an opportunity. His dad wanted his help. His dad was going to save him.
‘I don’t work for anyone neither,’ Devil said, then. ‘But I’ll work with you. If that’s what you’re asking.’
Thomas grinned, the smile taking over his face, spreading right across from ear to ear. ‘I knew you would,’ he said, evidently pleased with himself. ‘Welcome to the team, Devil.’ He han
ded him a pin, a tie pin, with the letter ‘I’ on it.
‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘Put it on,’ Thomas said. ‘It means you’re part of something. Something special. Something big. See, I have great hopes for you, Devil. I think you’re going to be something special. I think you’ve got your father’s talents. And people need that right now.’
‘So what do you want me to do?’ Devil asked uncertainly, pinning it to his T-shirt.
‘Nothing,’ Thomas said, getting out of the car and moving back to the front. ‘For now. But I’ll be in touch. I’ll let you know.’
21
Raffy’s head was hurting. He was lying on some kind of daybed with sheer curtains all around him. He knew that Benjamin was in the room, but his figure was hazy through the voile. He cleared his throat. Moments later, the curtains drew back and Benjamin’s face appeared.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked.
Raffy nodded sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
He’d been on the bed for an hour or so. Initially he hadn’t wanted to lie down; he’d been too desperate to apologise, to explain himself to Benjamin, to make Benjamin see. But Benjamin had refused to listen. Instead he had insisted that Raffy lie down, gather his thoughts, reflect, and, he added with a little smile, let the alcohol work its way through his system.
So Raffy had done what he was told, had sulked, brooded, huffed, puffed and fuelled his righteous indignation with images of Neil and Evie, of Lucas kissing Evie, of Evie’s thunderous face staring at him angrily.
And then, slowly, those images had rescinded. Bit by bit his breathing had slowed down; bit by bit his anger had abated, and as it did so his embarrassment increased.
‘Sorry?’ Benjamin asked. ‘For what, Raffy?’
‘For behaving like an idiot,’ Raffy said, feeling himself redden. Benjamin was sitting at the foot of the bed, his kindly eyes looking at him seriously. ‘For punching Neil. For …’