“Whatever,” he said.
Kojiro pointed at the axe in Walker’s hand.
“Are you ready?”
Ready was the last thing that Walker was. But he was loath to show any hint of weakness to the man in front of him.
“Ready,” he croaked.
Kojiro pounced, exploding into action like a supernatural force. He thrust the short sword at Walker’s midsection, moving like a lightning fast boxer throwing a set of triple jabs in the blink of an eye. Walker tried to respond but mind and body didn’t want to cooperate this morning. All movement, all instinct was jammed. He shelled up, trying to flick the automatic pilot switch on in his brain, trying to activate muscle memory in the hope that it would at least make the fight competitive.
By the time Walker had lifted his axe to defend himself, the tip of Kojiro’s short sword was already pressing up against his chest. Even in practice, Kojiro was an expert at thrusting the sword at full speed, otherwise known as killing speed, and yet he could stop instantaneously at the point of contact without causing damage.
Walker looked into Kojiro’s dark brown eyes.
He surrendered in silence.
“I’m glad you had a good time last night,” Kojiro said, keeping the tip of the blade on Walker’s chest “Because it was your last night in this world. At least it would have been if you were in a real fight.”
Walker sighed and dropped the axe to his side. “Dead can’t be worse than this,” he said.
Kojiro took a step backwards, lowering his sword as he did so. He bowed his head before returning the blade into scabbard.
Walker gave a sluggish bow in return.
“Psilocybin takes a little getting used to,” Kojiro said. “And so do women.”
Kojiro burst into a fit of ferocious laughter. His head tipped back as he revelled in the hilarity.
Walker waved Kojiro away with a lazy sweep of the axe.
“Piss off,” he said.
But he was laughing too.
With only minimal light pollution over London, it was easier to see the stars. Walker’s eyes roamed the ceiling of the world and stopped when they recognised the familiar shape of Orion, the hunter. Seeing that particular constellation always reminded him of getting a telescope for his fourteenth birthday. He’d spent the following months obsessing over the marvels of the night sky, at least until the next teenage distraction had arrived. Orion had always been his favourite. It was so distinctive and he remembered his father standing beside him one night, listing off the names of some of the constellation’s most famous stars – Betelgeuse and Rigel.
Walker stared at those stars in silence, before his thoughts fell back down to Earth.
“I never thanked you,” he said to Kojiro.
“Thanked me for what?”
“For yesterday,” Walker said. “You spoke up for me. Everybody else was ready to do me in.”
“It’s simple really,” Kojiro said. “We can’t afford to throw good people away. The others were thinking short-term like they always do. Short-term solutions. Where has that sort of mentality got us so far?”
Kojiro sighed. It was a long sigh and the frustration it contained was almost tangible.
“Can I ask you something?” Walker said.
“Of course.”
“Why aren’t you the leader of this gang?” Walker said. He pointed a thumb back towards the school. “Look it’s nothing against Achilles. Oh fuck man, can’t I just call him Nigel? Achilles! What’s that all about?”
Kojiro laughed, displaying an impressive row of white teeth.
“Nigel is his name,” he said.
“I’m not sure he would have been able to stop them yesterday,” Walker said. “Not the way you did. But it’s more than that. You’ve got ambition for the gang, you carry yourself well – you’re the best fighter by a mile and then some. So why aren’t you the leader?”
Kojiro shook his head. “Nigel – Achilles – is more suitable,” he said. “Believe it or not, it’s true.”
“You’re good friends with him,” Walker said. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Kojiro said. “We grew up together. We both come from well-off families in Richmond who knew each other well. Nigel and I went into the banking industry together, much to the delight of our families. Nigel was okay with that sort of life, I think. I wasn’t. A half-life of juggling numbers and buying silly things to impress other people – it wasn’t enough.”
“What was enough?” Walker said.
“The arts,” Kojiro said. “Theatre perhaps. My parents thought these things were hobbies, but they didn’t understand how much I wanted them. I was also fascinated by the combat and philosophy of martial arts. It was something that felt real and worthy of my time. How can one be passionate about interest rates and percentages? But that’s what my father did and his father too – it’s what my parents expected for me and God forgive me, I let myself be led into it. Just to please them. I never forgave them for it, even though I was the one to blame. The future was safe and predictable, and they thought it was enough for me.”
Kojiro smiled sadly.
“Oh I liked the money,” he said. “I’m not going to lie. And the clothes – I do miss the feel of a nice, bespoke suit.”
Kojiro touched the collar of the Gothic coat, looking at it with mild disdain.
“This is a pauper’s outfit in comparison,” he said. “But it’s fitting because that’s what the Giants are in this city – paupers.”
“Then maybe you should take over the leadership,” Walker said.
“Achilles is the right man to lead,” he said. “Besides, I tend to go away for short periods of time. I need to be alone regularly. Meditation, solitude – that kind of thing, it keeps me sane. I disappear for a few days and that’s not what a good leader does. Achilles is here all the time. When we first teamed up with Pax and Sooper, then Pearl and the others – I was the one who suggested Achilles for leader and nobody objected. That way I was free to go whenever I wanted.”
Walker glanced up at the dark morning sky. A speck of purplish-blue was creeping through the black canvas.
“God it’s cold,” he said.
“How would you like to do something different this morning?” Kojiro said.
“Something different?” Walker said.
“We need a heater,” Kojiro said. “There’s no way around it anymore. We need some sort of electric heater in the school to get us through the winter. It’s going to be a harsh few months and Achilles can’t stand the thought of fire. He doesn’t like to talk about this but we need to do something. Wrapping ourselves in a pile of blankets isn’t the answer. You’re one of us now. Here’s your chance to cement that beyond all doubt. Are you in?”
“I’m listening,” Walker said.
“I know where we can get a heater,” Kojiro said. “But we’ll have to steal it and it’s not going to be easy. There’s a gang I know – they’re based north of here, not far from the river. I’ve been in their den before and they’ve shown me hospitality. They have several heaters in the building. With a two-man raid, timed correctly, I believe we can get into their den, snatch one of those heaters and bring it back here.”
“Not entirely honourable,” Walker said. “They showed you hospitality?”
Kojiro grimaced. “Needs must my friend,” he said.
“Who are they?” Walker asked.
“Have you ever heard of the Obituaries?” Kojiro said.
“The Obituaries?” Walker said. “Can’t say I have.”
“Quite a gang,” Kojiro said. “They shave their heads and paint their faces to make them look like skulls. And before they hit another gang, they post a death notice in that gang’s territory, an obituary in advance. Very creative, you must admit.”
“Are they big?” Walker asked. “How many people?”
“They’re about the same size as us,” Kojiro said. “But don’t worry Walker – we’re not going there to fight them. We’re go
ing there to rob them. We’ll stake out the den this morning and when they go out, we’ll break in and find the heater. It’s as simple and it’s as hard as that.”
“I’ll bet,” Walker said.
“Are you in?” Kojiro said, speaking in a hushed voice.
“Aye,” Walker said. “It beats sitting around here all day twiddling my thumbs.”
Kojiro took a step back. “Excellent,” he said. “We’ll go now. We move quickly and with a bit of luck, we’ll be back in time for lunch. And if all goes well, that meal will be the most comfortable we’ve had in a long time, I can assure you.”
The two men set off towards the road at a fast pace. As they reached the school gate, Walker felt a sudden urge to turn around, like there was something or someone standing at his back.
He looked over his shoulder at the dark, silent building.
There was a face at the window – a solitary face and it was watching them go. The bearded man’s head was pressed up against the glass, a look of disgust and outrage distorting his natural features.
Walker turned around quickly. But even as he put further distance between himself and the school, he felt Achilles’ eyes chasing after him like the blazing heat of a forest fire, burning a hole in the back of his head.
Chapter 11
Walker and Kojiro travelled north on Portland Road.
They walked swiftly and with purpose in their stride. They kept their footsteps light, being careful not to attract too much attention to their presence. With their hoods covering their heads, they were like two black ghosts wandering across the shell of London.
There was little to no conversation as silence enhanced their invisibility. Explosions of birdsong accompanied their trek north, as well as the occasional whirr and click of the microscopic television cameras that surrounded them.
Walker glanced up at the streetlights, wondering if Kojiro ever paid much attention to those strange sounds that trickled down from above. Or did anyone even hear them? Would Walker have noticed them if he hadn’t been living alone up north for so long?
They passed through Crystal Palace, travelling on the road that had been the A2199, before moving into Camberwell. After they’d been on the road for some time, Walker turned to Kojiro, whose face was mostly hidden behind the hood.
“It’s quiet,” Walker said.
“This is the safest hour of the day to travel,” Kojiro said. “Don’t be afraid of silence Walker. It’s too early for anyone around here to be out of bed. At the same time, it’s too late for them to still be up from the night before. This is a short window when safe passage through London is all but guaranteed.”
In total, it was about eight or nine miles before they were closing in on the centre of London. Both men, walking at a brisk speed and without stopping, managed the distance in just under an hour and a half.
Walker’s eyes lingered on the looming London skyline. The towering buildings stood like stone giants on the dark horizon; their very presence was a reminder of everything that had been lost to the people behind the M25.
“So where do we find this gang?” Walker said, turning away from skyline.
“That’s easy,” Kojiro said.
“Is it?”
“Everyone knows where to find the Obituaries,” Kojiro said. “They might be one of the minor gangs in the Hole but their home is one of London’s foremost cultural landmarks. Was.”
Walker shrugged. “Where? St Paul’s or something?”
Kojiro laughed behind the hood.
“Not quite,” he said. “Something a little bit younger, but of no less importance to the people who frequented it.”
“Where?”
“The Ministry of Sound.”
“Eh?”
Kojiro glanced at Walker.
“The Obituaries are based in what used to be the Ministry of Sound,” he said. “They’ve been there for about five years. You were perhaps a little too young to know about it. It’s a nightclub – dance music, house music, that kind of thing. It had a great reputation, although I never had the pleasure of going there myself.”
“So they’re into death and dancing?” Walker said.
“Looks that way,” Kojiro said. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Walker said. “Is it a big place?”
“The Ministry of Sound?” Kojiro said. “It’s a massive warehouse. And from what I know, the Obituaries spend most of their time in the Box – that’s the main room where gigs were held. That’s big too – the sort of room that takes several electric heaters to keep warm in the winter.”
“What are they doing living out of a warehouse?” Walker asked.
“There’s a lot of empty space in London these days,” Kojiro said. “It’s pick and choose, so why not? Maybe they frequented the nightclub in their younger days. Maybe they think it’s a cool location. Either way, the Obituaries claimed it and the Ghosts have no problem with it. The Obituaries are under the Ghosts’ protection, just like we are.”
Walker looked at his companion.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “If the Obituaries are under their protection, won’t the Ghosts come after us for this?”
Kojiro brushed off Walker’s concern with a wave of the hand.
“The Ghosts don’t get involved in minor squabbles between the gangs under their protection,” he said. “If they did, it would be their full-time occupation. They only intervene if someone or something comes in from outside the Hole. And anyway, the Obituaries will never know that we were here. Okay?”
Walker nodded. “If you say so.”
They walked north along Newington Causeway, passing the Elephant and Castle tube station. They were standing on a wide, empty road and Walker felt more than a little exposed, especially as the morning was brightening up.
“We’re close,” Kojiro said, pointing straight ahead. “Just up here, off to the left.”
They hurried further along the main road, passing the broken shell of a double decker bus. They turned left onto Gaunt Street. At first, Walker thought this no more than a glorified alleyway – a short cut in between one large road and another. But when Kojiro slowed the pace down, Walker presumed that the Ministry of Sound was located somewhere on this little road.
Kojiro stopped outside a black gate. He turned around and gave Walker a grim-faced look that said ‘we’re here.’
The Ministry of Sound didn’t look like much from the outside. Walker’s eye was immediately drawn to a wall that ran along either side of the black gate. It was hard to tell if it was a real wall or an extension of the gate because whatever it was, it was splattered with torn and faded posters advertising a variety of club nights, most of which dated back to August and September of 2011.
The sight of those posters sent a chill through Walker’s bones.
The entrance to the venue was located behind the black gate. The building didn’t look like much – a low roofed exterior, attached to a few crummy looking, brown brick buildings tucked in on either side. Walker had expected something more glamorous for such a prestigious venue.
“So now what?” he whispered to Kojiro. “We can’t just stand outside their front door and wait for them to come out.”
Kojiro’s eyes darted back and forth along the narrow road. He pointed towards a large shuttered doorway, about ten yards from where they stood.
“We wait there,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Walker said. “Are you sure they’re even going to come outside? It’s freezing out here man.”
“Relax,” Kojiro said, leading Walker towards the shuttered doorway. “I’ve been here before remember? I know how these people operate. The Obituaries will go outside because that’s what they do every morning. It’s like a ritual for them. They had some trouble with Ferals recently, like the trouble we’re having now. The Obituaries cleared them out but because of that, the gang patrol the Elephant and Castle area every morning, making sure no one else is moving in on thei
r turf.”
“When?” Walker asked.
“We might have to wait an hour or so.”
Walker groaned. The thought of standing out in the cold wasn’t appealing, but it was too late to complain about that now.
They tucked themselves inside the shuttered doorway, ensuring that they weren’t visible from the street. Walker pulled the hood further over his head, trying to block out the cold.
After that, it was a waiting game.
Twenty minutes in, Walker was dozing on his feet. The mushroom fog hadn’t quite left him altogether and there were still clouds floating around in his head. There were also the memories of Pearl and what had happened between them, which he hadn’t had time to process. Were things going to be awkward when he next ran into her?
He leaned his back against the wall, drifting in and out of consciousness.
He was awoken abruptly by Kojiro’s elbow nudging him on the arm. Walker opened his eyes and shook the cobwebs out of his head. Looking up at the sky, he saw pockets of bright blue poking out in between the clouds.
Walker looked at Kojiro, who was looking further up the street.
“Have they come out yet?” Walker asked.
“Shhhh,” Kojiro said, pressing a finger to his lips. With the same finger, he pointed towards the black gate.
But before Walker could look past the edge of the shuttered doorway, he heard a brief clicking sound. It was coming from further up the street. Peering out of the doorway, he saw the black gate moving – it was being pulled slowly open from the inside.
Walker tightened his grip on the axe.
He heard footsteps in the distance.
Keeping close to the edge of the shuttered doorway, Walker saw a small group of people – he counted nine of them – walking through the gate in a slow march. This small group then paused in the middle of Gaunt Street. A short surveillance seemed to follow, as all nine gang members looked both ways up and down the street, apparently checking to see if anyone was around.
Kojiro bolted back into the open doorway. Walker did likewise, his heart pounding against the walls of his chest. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he heard hushed voices by the gate. The sound of those voices gave both Walker and Kojiro the confidence to peer back out again.
The Future of London Box Set Page 61