- No-ones claiming it.
- Not us?
- Not that I’ve heard.
- Are they alive, the first ones picked up? James, was James alive and was he hoping for rescue or plea bargain or death? Her words consumed themselves and the cursor waited.
- Some. Time’s up. Will be in touch. V.
The app closed and deleted itself, and a message was waiting that the Tengmalm’s Owl productivity model was ready but she opened a map, tracing the lines from Kosice, where her father lay injured, to Deprecen, over the border to Oradea… then where? Across Romania straight to the Bulgarian border, or through Serbia first? She didn’t know, and it was terrible not to know the steps her young brother would be taking, alone and so incredibly vulnerable. Her mind tallying itinerant war zones, hostile enclaves and safe ones, disease seasons, floods, storm paths...
Oh Jericho, she thought, and It’s not serious. But what was serious depended so much on how much you loved. She wished she could call him, both of them, press her fingertips over the pixels of their faces and hear her father’s voice so she knew they were both unbroken.
‘Lina?’ It was Thiago. Lina fished herself slowly out of the depths of her heart and turned, her neck muscles stiff. ‘Lunch,’ he said, his black eyes studying her face, her still hands.
‘Yes,’ she said, looking at the map one last time. ‘Yes, I’m coming.’ It’s a good thing you got them out, Volya had said.
Silene Wiley’s voice chattered unceasingly, Xander loaded food onto a plate then went out into the meadow, purple vetches and ivory bistort brushing water-stains onto his legs. He sat on his mother’s deckchair and Lina saw that Kai was beside it, hands weaving figure of eights, his wrists pale and far too thin. Xander did not look at him or offer him any food, but it was strangely reassuring to see them there, together. Kai was holding a flash of red that looked again like a martenitsa. He must have reclaimed it, she thought. What a strange child.
‘You will, of course, join us?’
Lina turned and saw that Silene had directed the comment not at her but at Iva and Anais, the condescension so saccharine it was a wonder neither of them walked away. Why do we do it? Lina thought. Why do we let them insult us? Is it really out of fear or is it exhaustion?
Anais looked perhaps fourteen and Lina knew her, but not well. She smiled and Anais returned it reservedly, almost wary, then looked over her shoulder into the meadow, towards the teenage stranger.
Rain was falling softly on the forest above, approaching. ‘Why don’t they come and eat in the dry?’ Lina said. Silene set her glass down, knocking it against her plate, lifting a hand to press fingers over her eyebrows as if smoothing out frown lines.
‘Xander?’ she laughed tinnily, ‘Oh, boys need their space, don’t they? I don’t think we realised quite how ... remote it is here. How very quiet.’ Another of those laughs, Lina tried not to wince. ‘Isn’t it quite lovely though? Perfect, if only... Dev will adore it here. Just his sort of place.’
The mysterious Dev. ‘Oh?’ Lina said, watching Iva serve Anais, pass the salad bowl to Thiago and refuse to look at Silene. ‘Why is that? Is he a scientist?’
‘He was in the military for absolute years, roaming all over the place like they do.’
In the corner of her eye, Lina saw Thiago running a thumb over two near-invisible scars on his other hand, his face expressionless.
‘And even now he’s out of that, he still can’t resist anywhere dangerous, can he darling?’ She was speaking over Lina’s shoulder to Xander as he returned for more food. There were several spaces where he could have leaned in, and yet he had positioned himself between his mother and Thiago.
‘I tried to call him,’ Xander said as he straightened. ‘He didn’t answer. Is that some stupid ESF block, ‘cos I need to get through to him.’
‘No,’ Thiago said.
Xander scowled and put his plate down on the table, closing his fingers over the back of the bench. A swallow fell through the air from sunlight into shade and up towards its nest in the eaves. Xander flinched as it passed and his grip on the bench tightened. ‘Well why the fuck can’t I trace him then?’
‘He’s probably busy, darling,’ Silene said but Xander ignored her. ‘He’s just like Christof when he...’ her voice trailed away and again one hand pressed against the skin around her eyes, the other smoothing her dress in her lap.
‘He flew from the Drowned City to Sofia yesterday,’ Xander said.
Thiago was no longer rubbing his scars but instead frowning thoughtfully at nothing. Beside Lina, Anais shifted and Lina could see the muscles of her arms twitching. She might not understand enough English to follow anything other than the tension, so Lina tipped a knee to touch hers and whispered, ‘It’s okay, it’s nothing.’
Anais stopped moving and her arms relaxed, but she didn’t acknowledge Lina. Instead she met her aunt’s gaze fleetingly across the table and in that glance Lina saw warning, anger, warning.
‘Oh good,’ Silene said, smiling up into her son’s face. ‘Then he’ll be here soon and it will all be alright. That’s wonderful, darling. He will stop it–’
‘Mum!’ Xander’s hand moved clumsily and Silene stopped talking, her eyes widening, smile gone.
Stop what? Lina wondered. Their feeling unsafe, she supposed, but why had they come here if they felt so unprotected? It made no sense. If there were threats against them, wouldn’t they be safer in London with their security and gated compounds than here with only this absent friend and the mountains? Why had they come?
Chapter Ten
‘If he has his military tag still, ESF will log him when he crosses the border,’ Thiago said. ‘I’ll let you know.’ The words and the offer were kind but he was looking at Iva rather than Silene. Tags, Lina thought wearily.
It was enough to make her want to curl forward and hide her head in her hands. The shadow and the tags, the Wileys and Devendra Kapoor, her father injured and Jericho having to come on alone. She had made Thiago promise not to drive these people away, but perhaps she had been wrong.
‘I don’t know. I would imagine he had it removed, don’t you think, Xander?’
Xander lowered himself onto the bench, looking down at his abandoned plate. ‘Nah. Said it was useful for when he’s out at sea or whatever.’
‘At sea?’ Anais half-whispered to Lina. She was watching Xander with quiet fascination.
Lina shrugged but Silene tilted her head and explained, ‘He works in anti-piracy. In the Mediterranean mostly. You’re all rather sheltered from the horrors of pirates here, you lucky things.’
Offshore piracy, maybe. But Lina would bet that Anais knew more about people trafficking, black market extortion and the human costs of all of it than this woman ever would. She didn’t expect Anais to say so.
‘I think we do know why there are pirates though, yes? Because of States like London.’
Xander lifted his head to stare at her, and Silene stared at her, and Lina felt the whole table give a tiny collective inhale.
‘What?’ Anais said. Iva said something in quick, harsh Russian that she knew neither Lina nor Thiago would understand.
‘What a young anarchist you’ve got working for you, Mr Ferdinando,’ Silene laughed.
Thiago glanced at Anais’ flushed, stiff face. ‘Honest, I think.’
Silene opened her mouth to speak, or in shock, but her son got there first. ‘Support them, do you? The pirates and terrorists and shit? Think they’re saints or something and State is, like, evil?’
Oh Christ, Lina thought. She pressed one hand against the table, her fingers so straight the tips curved up away from the wood. ‘No-one’s claiming sainthood. Of course not. I’m sorry. We aren’t used to having State here.’
‘Cramping your style?’ Xander’s chest was pressed into the table, his voice rising. ‘Do you think we wanted to co
me to this shithole? Sit out here in the absolute middle of fucking nowhere with you fucking morons? Well shocker, we’re only here because some of your terrorists decided to kill my dad, and I promised to–’ He cut off abruptly and pushed upright, the table shuddering. ‘Fuck it. Fuck you.’
Lina met Thiago’s gaze, her pulse like a voice in her ear and his steadiness steadying her.
As Xander slammed the house door Iva rose, jerking her head at Anais, gathering dishes without speaking. Behind them a high thread of laughter made Lina turn, Kai’s thin form chasing through shadowlines at the edge of the meadow. She turned back strangely lightened, enough to say gently to Silene, ‘I’m sorry we upset him. Anais does not know about his father’s investigation.’ Which was almost certainly untrue, but she would try to be kind to this dreadful woman for the sake of her sons.
Silene was as restless as a child, running her hands over her sleeves, her hair, her gaze shifting between Lina and the house door. Then, with visible effort, she focused on Lina and smiled, revealing teeth made sharp by the sweetness of her voice. ‘I’m surprised the news has not reached here. I thought all these people,’ with a flick of her hand at the meadow, the hills, ‘would delight in such a story.’
Thiago reached for the teapot, poured himself a cup gone dark with tannins, did the same for Lina and placed the pot within Silene’s reach, although she ignored it.
‘Many people here have never had anything to do with the States, Mrs Wiley,’ Lina said carefully. Perhaps she should simply apologise until Silene lost interest; it would be the sensible thing. But faced with Anais’ courage and her own slow anger, she said only, ‘They have no interest in events as far away as London.’
Silene laughed and, like an echo, the boy in the meadow laughed too. Music began to pulse syncopated rage from within the house. ‘Perhaps not, Lina. But you must do.’
The rain had stopped. Lina hadn’t realised until now, seeing the sun refract through the steamy air. She should have apologised.
‘You are safe here, Mrs Wiley,’ Thiago said. ‘And will be until you wish to go home.’ He looked at Lina without waiting for Silene to respond. ‘Are you starting the blood tests now?’
Lina shook herself and smiled. ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’ She rose and was gathering plates when Silene said faintly,
‘Where’s my boy?’
Lina glanced at her, the muffled music shifting beats. ‘In the meadow,’ she said. Thiago turned to look and then frowned at Lina very slightly, but Silene didn’t look at all, only stepped backward uncertainly. ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘No, no.’ Fingers pressing around her throat. ‘Gosh, it’s so hot,’ she said more clearly, dropping her hand. ‘I think I shall have a little siesta.’
Lina was lining up eppendorfs and labelling them when Xander knocked on the open lab door. Both his presence and the unlikely courtesy of him knocking made her slow to react, to invite him in. But he didn’t seem to notice and came to sit uncomfortably on a stool further along the workbench.
‘What’s up?’ she said because he was studying the equipment along the walls more intently than was perhaps warranted.
‘Will you actually tell me if Dev’s tag appears on your systems?’
She hadn’t known what to expect, but perhaps this would have been the most obvious. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said.
‘Because if you don’t I’ll–’ he stopped, glared at her, ‘find out myself.’
One breath to absorb the confession, another to let it go. ‘We will. But it might depend on the tag’s security. Are you worried for him? It sounds like he’s very capable of looking after himself, but I can go through the cameras if you like.’ The data processors tagged photos with people in automatically, but the uploads weren’t daily and checking every tagged image was still a slow task that she would rather not do. And she honestly didn’t care whether this boy was worried for his saviour-uncle ... but he had found his father’s body and then come here, almost alone.
‘No. Yeah. No.’ He looked down at his hands resting on weighty thighs and his face wavered perfectly between bewildered child and angry near-adult. ‘Please. Yes.’ A pause. ‘But don’t tell my mum, right? Not till we’ve found him.’
‘Alright.’
As if she had asked, he added, ‘I shouldn’t’ve said anything before. I’m supposed to not let her worry, and stop her, like, getting in touch with anyone, you know?’
She didn’t, actually. Why did he not want his mother contacting anyone? ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Is she okay?’
‘Of course she is.’ Then, as if his own defensiveness surprised him, he added, ‘Yeah. Like, people talk, you know? It was all getting fucked up at home.’
Lina made a faint noise that could have been sympathy or agreement, but he barely seemed to notice. He was looking at the rows of tubes on the desk in front of her, half empty and half holding samples of blood dark as wine. As if the sight of them had reminded him, he said, ‘Everyone should be tagged, then it would be easy.’
At least, she thought, he had not said that at the lunch table. ‘Would it?’
Still staring at the small teardrops of blood, his eyes a furnace, he spat the words as if they burned him. ‘Yes. ’Cos then they’d know exactly who did it and they’d have caught them all, and there’d be no more insinuations and fucking veiled accusations, and we could go home.’
Lina didn’t speak for a moment, watching him watch the blood from a hundred tiny hearts. His words were a minefield. ‘Hopefully you’ll be able to go home soon,’ she said eventually.
He pushed upright, the stool screeching. ‘They just want to get rid of us. Everyone fights. Fuck, I fought with Dad all the time and no-one’s ... And I know they said not to, but they’re my fucking parents, so I’ll find who did it. And I’ll destroy them.’
He rose, and she thought he’d leave her alone now to dismantle all the things he’d said, but at the doorway he hesitated and his face, turned back to her, was awash with uncertainty. ‘You will tell me though, about Dev?’
Again, she had so many reasons not to help him. Again, she couldn’t possibly refuse. ‘Yes, I will.’ A wasp butted against the window from outside, landed on the frame in search of wood for her nest and Lina added quickly, ‘Is your brother alright?’
Xander looked at her blankly. ‘I don’t have a brother.’
Lina watched him through her window, watched the wasp scrape a dainty line along the wood, and could not see Kai in the meadow at all. She didn’t know which was worse – to leave any child at all in the camps and alone, or to put them into a family like this, as uncherished as this. No wonder he absented himself so much, and no wonder he feared. It must have been Christopher Wiley who had chosen to adopt, so Silene and Xander’s rejection now might be more an infolding of grief than simple dislike. Unless he had only ever been a performative gesture for all of them, made redundant without cameras.
With a wrench, Lina returned to her work, pulling the eppendorfs towards her to finish labelling them. It was painstaking, mindless work and, seeming busy, she could pretend not to be worrying, or thinking, or loathing; but be doing all three.
Xander had said people were making accusations of his mother. That Silene and her husband had fought, so people thought she might have killed him, or at least wanted to blame her for it. She was sure that had been Xander’s fragmented meaning. So that was why they had come away, to remove her from the heat of suspicion. And Volya said no-one had claimed the killing.
And yet... And yet...
Investigators were arresting both suspects and their associates, as if they firmly believed it had been a resistance-led attack.
Lina finished the last tube and pushed the rack away. She ought to begin pipetting chemicals in now, prepping solutions for a proportion of the blood taken from each animal. The rest she would prep as slides to do blood cell counts and look for bacteria, perhaps plasmodium paras
ites. And then ELISA tests for a couple of diseases.
Instead of doing any of those things, she did what she had been trying not to. She scoured news sites from State-owned to pirate blogs, hunting hints of Xander’s suggestion or James’ fate. But she could find nothing. Salacious descriptions of Christopher Wiley’s body and the way Xander had found him curled into the corner of his office, between bookshelf and window, stabbed and blood-soaked.
It conjured too-vivid memories and an awful quiet satisfaction. He was the Internal Security Minister; he would have devised armed police and military actions in camps, in inner-city communities, universities; he might have recommended tasers and tear gas some days, live ammunition on others. He’d have done it all from his quiet offices in Whitehall, or from the room where he died.
It was honestly not a killing Lina could picture Silene doing, and instead was a killing that suggested the resistance, or at least a citizen driven to desperate acts by desperation, and it would be naive of Lina to think that no-one in her old disparate, spiderwebbed underground community had ever killed for the sake of the killing. But not James. Never James with his gentle smile and wish for children, one day, perhaps. Lina touched a hand to her face, her lips, and couldn’t believe he’d been a part of this but even if he had, he did not deserve the hell he was living now.
Even if it was the resistance, and Silene Wiley innocent, it would still be fairer if she were accused. A summary justice for all the other guilts she was a part of.
And then Xander would be parentless, perhaps orphaned, and Kai would be ... returned to the camps or trafficked away by the State childcare system.
Shutting down vague and baseless articles, Lina instead did what she had begun to do before lunch and then forgotten. She went into Thiago’s recent photo logs. They did this often, checking the others’ data when they needed to, so it felt less illicit than it might and there they were – photos between the dead deer and the tag in the tree. Two men that Lina recognised from Beli Iskar: Kolev, and another who had spoken but remained unnamed. Here they were again, their shadowy faces in yellow-green evening light, their stained jackets and heavy footsteps; no camera on the carcass and they had managed to avoid the ones approaching the station. But it had to be them. Lina studied their faces but could see nothing other than reflected forest and resolution, nothing to let her gauge the anger behind the act.
This Is Our Undoing Page 8