by Amy Lord
‘The others have already started down the tunnel.’ Zeke’s voice was dark with anticipation. He lifted his arm and held something out towards Caleb; it gave off a metallic glint in the darkness.
‘Is that a gun?’ I hissed.
Caleb tucked it into the back of his jeans where I couldn’t see. ‘Don’t worry about that, it’s only a precaution.’
The sense of doom intensified, gnawing in the pit of my stomach. ‘You’re not planning to shoot anyone, are you?’
I almost heard Zeke’s smirk. ‘You don’t think we would go in there without weapons, Clara? The guards, they’ll be armed.’ He paused. ‘You don’t have to come.’
If I’d been able to see his self-satisfied face, I might have punched it. ‘What am I going to do, stay in here by myself while you all go off and get shot? No thanks.’
‘If you’re sure.’ He moved away. ‘It’s this way.’
I followed, with Caleb in step behind me. We approached what seemed to be a solid wall; Zeke clicked on a small torch and pointed it at a narrow gap where one side of the wall protruded further than the other. As we slipped through the gap into the tunnel, my foot caught on something and I stumbled, twisting my ankle and landing heavily on one knee. Caleb’s hands reached under my arms and lifted me back to my feet. There was a rush of icy air around my knee where my jeans must have torn.
‘Are you alright?’ Caleb asked. The torch had bobbed away down the tunnel, where it came to a halt, Zeke waiting for us in silence.
I winced, pulling off my glove and running my fingers down my leg. They came away bloody. I stuffed my gloves into the pocket of my coat.
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘We have to go.’ Zeke’s voice was insistent. ‘It’s almost time.’
We hustled down the narrow tunnel towards him, elbows scraping on stone. As we moved further into the darkness I could sense people ahead of us. A voice called out softly and Zeke responded. Several torches flickered on at once, dazzling me. I shielded my eyes.
Those that were part of the plan to invade the Authorisation Bureau headquarters were waiting for us. I could barely make out their faces above their black clothing; with scarves pulled up around their faces, they disappeared into the gloom.
Caleb came up behind me and addressed them. ‘Is everyone here? What about Elizabeth?’
There were mumbles of assent at first, but they dropped away as she failed to reply. ‘Okay.’ Caleb found my hand in the darkness and gripped it.
‘If she didn’t make it here… we suspect Elizabeth was arrested last night.’
The whispering grew tense.
‘Quiet,’ Caleb commanded. The tunnel fell silent. ‘If she was arrested, the chances are we’ll find Elizabeth somewhere in this building. She will need our help; we must look for her along with the others. Okay?’
The others hissed in agreement, still trying to keep their voices low.
‘Let’s go over the plan one more time,’ Caleb said. ‘It’s important that we all remember our places.’
I murmured along with the crowd, uncertain of the details. ‘Our inside man is primed to cause the distraction we will need to get into the building unseen. At precisely 8.53pm, he will short wiring in one of the maintenance rooms on the third floor, causing a small electrical fire. The alarms will sound, attracting the guards. As this is within the evening shift-change window, there will only be a skeleton staff available; the next shift won’t have finished clocking in, so when the fire triggers a system lockdown, they’ll be shut out of the main building.
‘This is when we will enter via the tunnels. We’ll split off into three groups, each entering the building on one of the underground floors. Down there, only the main doors are controlled electronically – you need keys to access the cells and we’ve got copies. Members of each team should have them.’
A ripple of agreement swept through the group. ‘Good. Once we’re inside the building, each group will need to proceed to their target. We don’t know where exactly they’re being held in the building, but our insiders have given us as much intelligence as they can. Once we locate the prisoners, we need to get them out as quickly as we can and get back to the tunnels.’
Caleb paused. ‘I can’t emphasise this point enough: do not wait for anyone outside of your team. Once we get back to the tunnels, we’ll be splitting off in different directions to avoid detection. If you get back first, leave. Don’t wait for the others. We’ll meet at the rendezvous point at midnight, with the prisoners.
‘If anyone doesn’t make it, we’ll know where to find them.’
We stood in silence, the weight of Caleb’s words sinking in. Some of us might not be coming back. I shivered, thinking about the gun tucked into the waistband of his trousers.
‘Everyone ready?’
The answering voices were quiet yet fierce. It was time.
Zeke led the way; he was the expert on the tunnels. Caleb was somewhere in the middle of the procession as it marched along the narrow corridor. I fell into step behind him, hands reaching out unconsciously to clutch at the brick, to feel something tangible that might guide me.
Caleb must have sensed my discomfort. He reached back and took my hand, towing me along in his wake. I fought to keep myself steady, to avoid treading on him or tumbling to the floor in a quivering heap.
*
It was a long walk. I never even saw the Authorisation Bureau building before we went inside, like rats tunnelling deep underground.
We entered through a barely remembered door at the end of a dimly lit maintenance tunnel. No one spoke. Caleb signalled his soldiers with brisk movements as they took out their weapons, gripping them tightly in bloodless hands. They separated into three groups and began to jog, one after another down the corridor. The first two groups disappeared into a stairwell and I imagined them climbing higher, to floors where there would be more soldiers. My legs began to shake.
Wordlessly, Caleb squeezed my arm and inclined his head. Our group took off along the corridor, passing the stairway and moving towards a set of double doors. We paused; a brief moment to catch our breath.
Beside the door was a fire alarm, an old-fashioned axe displayed in a glass-covered case. Caleb caught me looking and smiled tightly. Holding up a hand, he tugged off his shirt and hung it over the case, then jabbed his elbow sharply. The sound of glass breaking was muffled. He shook the tiny shards from his shirt and put it back on, before tugging the axe from its case. He handed it to me.
They all watched as I held it out in front of me like a talisman, surprised by how light the metal was. My fingers tightened around the cool handle and I nodded to Caleb. He turned to the door and I sucked in a deep, painful breath.
Caleb raised a foot and kicked the doors, hard. They burst open and eight of us spilled out into the corridor clutching our weapons and looking frantically around.
There were no guards. Caleb called my name and time seemed to speed up. I hurried to his side as we ran along the corridor, pausing at each door to peer through tiny panes of wire-scarred glass. Around us the others were trying door handles, banging on windows, struggling with copied keys or kicking in doors.
There were people inside the rooms, but they were broken. Tears streamed down my face at each new tableau. We weren’t there for them, but we tried to help. One man was chained to the wall, his arms above him, head lolling forward onto his chest, swimming in and out of consciousness.
Caleb unlocked the door to his cell but he couldn’t release the chains. The key was no use.
‘Give me the axe.’
He swung it with a grunt and the blade sparked against the metal restraints, but they didn’t give. He tried again and again, but nothing. The prisoner barely noticed we were there.
As Caleb shook his head and marched to the door, I cried, ‘Surely we can’t leave him here?’
He shrugged. ‘What can we do? We have to find Simon, Jerome, Elizabeth… they’re the ones we came for. If they catch us here,
we won’t be able to help anyone.’
With a last look back I followed him out of the door. The corridor felt endless as we pushed forwards, Caleb squinting into each room as I kept moving ahead. Along the corridor one of the others was supporting a man as he staggered out of a cell. He looked back at us and I was shocked to recognise him: the presenter from the news channel, the one who had slipped and called Lumière freedom fighters.
His usually neat, expensively styled hair was bloody and plastered to his head, his eyes almost glued shut with blood and bruises. He was wearing scrub trousers and nothing else. As his rescuer led him away, I gasped. His back was raw, gaping strap marks lashed across his skin, layer upon layer of wounds destroying his flesh. If they’d done this to him, what would they have done to Simon?
Something caught my eye and I stopped; my feet belonged to someone else. The clinical beige of the walls was broken by a long, deep window set into the brick: a viewing gallery of sorts.
I stared through the window, horror building in my chest. The cell was brightly lit, the bare strip lights flickering coldly. A woman was slumped on the floor in the middle of the room, her hands bound behind her back. Her clothes were torn and stained, her feet bare. There was blood smeared on the floor.
She had a bag over her head, but I recognised her. There was a small tattoo on her ankle that I had seen before.
‘Caleb.’ My voice was a shriek of pain. He looked up. I pointed at the glass, hand shaking. ‘It’s Elizabeth.’
He hurried to my side and I had to turn away as he looked through the window, the colour fading from his cheeks. I burned in shame for her, in rage. With a roar, he ripped the axe out of my hands and smashed it against the glass. It shook, but didn’t break. He swung again, eyes wild, and a crack appeared. The corridor echoed with the ringing of the axe as it struck the glass over and over. When it finally shattered, glistening shards flew in every direction. Elizabeth screamed as they hit her, the feeble sound muffled by the hood.
I sliced the palm of my hand clambering over the window frame into the cell, but I barely noticed, even as the blood ran along my wrist. Caleb cut her free and pulled the bag from her head. She screwed her eyes shut in the sudden blinding light, shrinking away from us.
‘Elizabeth,’ I said softly as Caleb stepped back, ‘Elizabeth, it’s Clara. And Caleb, Caleb is with me. We’ve come to take you home. I’m so sorry, darling, I’m so sorry.’
She was whimpering, her feet scraping over the shards of glass as she twisted, searching for a way out. I pulled off my coat and went to her, wrapping it around her shoulders. She cried out in pain.
‘Elizabeth, can you walk? We need to get you out of here.’
Her eyes began to focus. They found my face and clung to it. ‘Clara!’
Her voice was weak. I reached out to pull the coat tight and she began to cry. I looked back at Caleb, gesturing to the ground. ‘The glass.’
With a nod, he stepped forward and swept her up into his arms. He winced as her body tensed in pain but he carried her towards the gaping window frame. I quickly climbed back through and helped her into the corridor.
Further along, the rest of the group were helping stumbling prisoners towards our exit. A siren began to wail. They caught sight of us and began to wave urgently. ‘Caleb, we’ve got to go! They know we’re here!’
I looked around frantically. ‘Simon, did they find him?’ There were still half a dozen rooms along the corridor that we hadn’t checked. I didn’t see him among the people struggling for the door. Panic curled around my heart.
Caleb looked at me, Elizabeth draped across his shoulder, weeping hard. I waved him on, ‘Get her out of here. It’s a few rooms, I’ll check… I have to check…’
I didn’t wait for his permission. As I ran, he called out my name. I spun round. ‘Get her out of here, Caleb!’
He nodded. ‘Hurry!’ he called back, his voice already obscured by the screeching of the alarm and his heavy footsteps as they ran, the bleeding girl in his arms.
I knew I didn’t have much time. I glanced through each window long enough to ensure Simon wasn’t in that room. Tortured eyes beseeched me, but I didn’t have time to save them.
He was in the last cell. They hadn’t restrained him. He stood in the middle of the room, staring at the door. As he saw my face he gave a shout and ran forward, banging his fists against the glass.
‘Simon!’ I screamed, pressing my palm against the window. Tears blurred my vision as I tried to take him in. It didn’t feel real. In the distance there was a shout and I knew that the guards were coming. My heart dropped; Caleb had the key.
‘Step back,’ I screamed at him, not even waiting for him to comply before I arced the axe through the air. I was slower than Caleb, my arms weak and shuddering, each blow ricocheting through my bones. But I broke the lock. I got the door open.
He staggered out into my arms in a haze of sweat and blood and torn clothing, a ragged beard scraping against my face as he kissed me fiercely.
‘We have to leave,’ I gasped, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. ‘They’re coming.’
He overtook me, towing me along the corridor. I still couldn’t see his face, only the width of his shoulders, tense beneath an ill-fitting shirt, and the hair that had grown long and curled over his collar.
We were almost at the door when I saw her: a young girl, even younger than Elizabeth, staring out through the tiny window of her cell, hand pressed flat against the glass. My hand dropped from Simon’s grasp and I stopped, fumbling for the axe.
He turned back to me, almost at the exit. ‘Clara, what are you doing?’ His voice was shrill with panic.
‘I have to help her. Just go, I’ll be right behind you.’
He started to come back to me and somewhere a door burst open and regimented feet ran towards us. There were shouts of anger and his eyes filled with fear as he stared towards the noise.
‘Go, please,’ I screamed, ‘I’m coming.’
With a swing of the axe I had the door open and I had the girl with me. Seeing us on our way towards him, Simon hurtled through the double doors and I caught a glimpse of him running hard.
I followed as fast as I could, dragging the girl behind me, her laboured breathing loud in my ear. The footsteps grew louder and I began to pray: please God, let me make it through this door, let me help this girl.
We reached the door as they rounded the corner, a dozen men in uniforms, all of them clutching automatic rifles. The girl screamed as I shoved her through the gap ahead of me.
‘Run!’ With a final glance at me, she disappeared, her feet slapping desperately against the floor.
Before I could follow, there was a shout and one of the guards fired several rounds of bullets. The corridor echoed with the noise. I froze; eyes squeezed shut, feeling the rush of hot metal in the air, waiting for the bullets to tear into me.
But they didn’t come. Rough hands grabbed me and forced me to my knees, onto my face on the floor. I gasped as they wrenched a plastic tie tight around my wrists, so tight my circulation stopped. I couldn’t feel my fingers.
‘Keep your head down,’ someone yelled at me. I could see nothing but the polished leather of two dozen boots, gathered furiously around me.
It wasn’t until I heard his voice that the reality sank in. I was a prisoner.
‘Get her up.’
They lifted me, yanked me to my feet, holding me tightly in position. And it was then that I saw them. Two bodies lay sprawled on the ground, blood slowly seeping from the bullet wounds in their backs.
I let out a scream; it felt like it would rip my chest in two.
The major stood there, his mouth twisted in a nasty little smile. ‘Clara, well, fancy seeing you here.’
He walked away from me, towards the bodies, his pace agonisingly slow. Each step was a taunt. He stopped beside them, his carefully polished boots just outside the pool of blood. With his toe, he prodded Simon’s leg. A hot burst of anger rushed thr
ough me as the major turned him roughly onto his back.
‘Oh, Simon…’ he shook his head sadly. Tears poured down my face; my knees felt weak. I struggled to breathe, my world falling away. I remembered that last afternoon in the park, the way Simon had smiled at me. I remembered the shock of seeing him bundled into that car, the screech of tyres as it sped away, the pain in my chest as the realisation struck. The pain was there again now, crippling my lungs.
The major walked back along the corridor, eyes on me the entire way. For a long moment he did nothing but stare as the sound of my sobs filled the air. Then he tutted softly.
‘What were you thinking, Clara? I always knew you were irresponsible, but I never thought you’d risk someone else’s life, especially Simon’s.’
I opened my mouth to reply, but I couldn’t speak through my tears. Before I could catch my breath, he smiled and drove his fist viciously into my gut. I tried to double over, the air driven from my body, but the guards held me upright. Stars sparked on the periphery of my vision.
‘Take her to one of the interrogation rooms,’ the major commanded.
‘Yes sir,’ they answered and I was dragged away, spluttering and fighting for breath, the toes of my boots squeaking on the shiny linoleum.
Thirty-seven
Somewhere above me a light flared angrily. It burned its way into my consciousness, demanding my attention. I kept my eyes closed as I surfaced from a sweaty, drug-induced sleep, but still the light seared pulsating red rings into my retinas. I tried to bring my arm to my eyes for protection, but I couldn’t move. My limbs were heavy, still suffused with barbiturates. I tried to shift positions but I couldn’t. I was tied to the bed. Panic overwhelmed me.
My eyes flew open and everything went white. I twisted my head to one side, trying to find a place away from the light, but I couldn’t escape. As I struggled to regain my sight, a tinny clicking sound rang around the room.