“We got inspected, you know, while you were gone.”
“Inspected?” I was hardly listening.
“Yeah, by the RWB. They looked around and asked if anything bad had happened to us here—Bethan started crying and they were all like, ‘what is it, what’s the matter?’ and I was afraid they’d get it out of her—about the execution and everything, then she’d have been for it, so I said, ‘They’re going to cut us up, what do you think’s the matter with her?’ And they went very pink in the face and went away again.”
“Oh. Great. I’m glad Bethan wasn’t in trouble.”
“Margo! Wake up! Don’t you see? Jon’s probably…”
She broke off as the tramp of feet came from outside. The door clicked open and a couple of guards tossed a broken white cane into the room, then shoved a gangly russet-haired figure after it and slammed the door again.
“Jon!”
Chocolate, cuddly toys and chairs went flying in all directions as I hurtled down the room. I flung my arms around him and as his head turned towards me my lips accidentally landed right on his. I only just managed to control my instinctive recoil, but Jon slid one hand into my hair and returned the kiss as convincingly as anyone could’ve wished.
He didn’t kiss like Bane, blazing-fierce and adoringly tender all at once; Jon’s lips caressed mine as though he’d slip through them, merge himself with me, make us one. It was too intimate and I couldn’t respond, but when we broke apart, it required no effort to wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his silky hair.
“Jon, you’re all right. You’re alive.”
I found myself repeating this self-evident fact several times before I managed to draw away and get hold of myself. Actually... definitely alive, but not quite as all right as he’d been earlier that morning. His lip was split and swelling, he’d a black eye, a bruised cheek, and one wrist nestled in a tubular bandage.
“How many hours were you with them for?”
“The guards did my lip after I tried to shove Watkins through the cafeteria ceiling for shooting you. The boys managed the rest the moment the RWB had gone. I don’t know what the Major said to make them leave me alone that long, to be honest. I really am persona non grata over there. I suppose they’re miffed I escaped from them.”
I touched his wrist gently, “Is it broken?”
“No, just sprained, according to dear Doctor Richard.”
“Is anything else hurt?”
“Bruises. My pride. Nothing else.”
“Don’t see why your pride’s hurt. I was astonished the way you managed to deal with those guards.”
“Well, you were unconscious during the part where they rammed my face into the floor and sat on me. But yes, Bane used to make me practice with him and I tell you, he was merciless!”
“Well, if someone attacks you, they won’t give you special consideration because you can’t see, will they?”
Jon laughed so hard a fresh trickle of blood ran from his lip.
“That’s exactly what your fiancé said,” he murmured into my ear, drawing me in for another hug. I hugged him back fiercely, gulping. Tears of relief were pricking the corners of my eyes.
“Oh, Margo, I’m sorry, were you really scared?”
“I thought they were dismantling you, stupid!”
“I’m sorry, there’s… something I should’ve told you. I… just didn’t like to make a big thing about it. I’m a really, really rare tissue type. It’s the only reason they let me be born at all. Only reason they put me in with you girls too, I bet. There’s no way they’re going to dismantle me until I’m in absolutely Prime Condition. All my organs are... well, virtually priceless. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you before, but…”
But he’d have felt like he was boasting or something. The rest of us could be taken at any time, like Polly.
“So you mustn’t think I was being really brave earlier,” he added. “I was just pretty near certain they weren’t taking me to the Lab.”
“Well, I’m glad.” I hugged him again. “Now I know I don’t need to worry about you for a year or so. If they come and drag you off, it’s just an inspection.”
“Yeah. I should’ve said. That wasn’t very far-sighted of me, was it?”
“Never mind. You’re all right. Everything’s okay.”
After a few more moments he drew away at last and began to feel around him. “Now, where’s my stick?”
I picked up the pieces.
“Um, I think it needs some TLC, Jon.”
“Huh?”
I put a piece into each of his hands and his face fell.
“I think we can fix it,” I said quickly. “It’s splintered, see, uh… feel. And I’ve got some string. We should be able to bind it up.”
“Yeah… I expect so.” But there was more vulnerability in his eyes now than when he’d been dragged off earlier, so pausing only to get dressed, I laid out the two pieces on the bed and reassembled them.
“There,” I said at last. “It wouldn’t hold any weight, but it will hold together, and that’s all that matters.”
He wandered up and down the room for a while, accustoming himself to the new weight and balance of his precious aid, then he sat beside me and kissed my cheek.
“Thank you, Margo.”
“You’re welcome. Now, if you’re not too tired for a little making out, I’ve got something to show you.”
I’d transferred the precious card to my pocket while getting the string from my chest. There didn’t seem to be anyone light-fingered in the dorm, but I wasn’t risking it. Anyway, I wanted to have a good look at it.
Safe behind the curtain, I examined it in the light of my flashlight. The front had a picture of Finchley; no more flattering than any such picture tends to be, not that the camera had much to work with; and listed his name, rank, ID number and Unit—Greater Salperton EGD Facility. On the back was the standard spiel about if found please return to… blah blah blah.
“So?”
I handed him the card. He ran his fingers around the edge, sniffed it, then traced the indented letters.
“Fin…ch…ley…”
His head came up sharply and his voice dropped even lower.
“Is this a door card?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Deus omnipotens! Where did you get it?”
“Okay, promise you won’t run amuck and try to push his face through the floor?”
He flushed.
“I’m not into revenge, Margo.”
“Oh? You knew Watkins had already shot me, didn’t you?”
He went even redder.
“Yes, I heard you hit the ground, but… I honestly was trying to protect you, I know it sounds stupid, but… it was instinctive. By the time they were all sitting on me it’d sunk in that I was too late to help you—so I let them take me away.”
“Ah. Well, I woke up in an isolation ward—don’t imagine they wanted to admit to the inspectors I’d just been shot. Finchley showed up saying he was to take me to Doctor Richard, but he wanted to get to know me first. While he was trying that on, I grabbed his card and legged it.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Ran his vile hands over me, is all.”
“It’s enough.”
Despite what he’d just said, he looked angry enough to have a good go at driving Finchley’s face into the floor.
“I won’t argue with that. But I got a card out of it, so I’m not complaining.”
“But they must know that’s missing and who took it.”
“Of course they do. The Menace and Finchley and a whole pack of them arrived right on my heels, just in time to see me throw the holder—with a nice gray card in it—down the trash chute. Since I don’t think I was going to need my library card again, I think that’s a rather good trade, don’t you?”
He threw his arms around me and kissed me perilously close to my lips.
“You know what this means, don’t you? You may actually
be able to get out of here after all!”
I had my own ideas about that, but I just said, “Yes. If it’s going to carry on working.”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
“Well, if the cards are individual to each guard, the old one may automatically be stopped when a new one is issued. So all I’ll get if I try and use it is a whole lot of trouble. But if they just print the guard’s details onto a standard card, then they’re not going to change the lot because one card’s been destroyed, are they? This thing doesn’t have any individual card number on it so hopefully it’s the second system.”
Jon licked absentmindedly at his cut lip as he thought about this.
“They’ve got the cameras which must all beam their feed to a camera room. That’s an expensive system. Perhaps they wouldn’t spend money on a high tech card system as well—if they want to know who went through what door when, they can just look at the footage.”
“Exactly. Of course, the cameras are the next problem. You can see the little lights glowing at night; they’re still on; but is anyone in the camera room looking? And how hard?”
“Not very, I shouldn’t think. I’ll find out for you.”
“What? How?”
He tapped his nose.
“I have a plan.”
“What?”
He just smiled mysteriously—then footsteps in the passage made us both raise our heads.
“The guard looked in a quarter of an hour ago,” said Jon. “What now?”
“I never did get that test, did I? I’m putting the card in your pillowcase.” I shoved it right in, then threw up the curtain so we were sitting innocently on the edge of the bunk when the dorm door opened.
“Margaret Verrall,” said one of the guards. Two of them and neither of them Finchley. Might as well go quietly.
***+***
16
OPERATION CAMERA INFO
Dear Doctor Richard’s office was in the Lab building—my skin was crawling by the time I arrived. Being marched off that way was such a horribly exact preview of what was to come.
The disbarred doctor was reading his newspaper when the guards brought me in. They made to withdraw and he flipped the paper down and looked at them over the top of it.
“No, no, you two can stay, we wouldn’t want the subject to make any more nasty accusations today, would we?”
I couldn’t help staring pointedly at the camera in the corner, but on the whole, I wasn’t sorry not to be left alone with the man who, in a few days, weeks or months, would kill me. At least, not until, twitching his paper impatiently in his hands, he demanded, “The date of your last menstrual period, subject?”
I tried not to blush, with little success. The guards developed a sudden, intense interest in the doctor’s revolting collection of framed anatomical photographs—cross sections of lungs, hearts, kidneys…
“Two weeks ago,” I said coldly. “I don’t know the date.”
He picked up a little white stick from his desk and held it out.
“Take this, through that door on the left, urinate on it, bring it back.”
“They put my contraceptive implant in at eleven, same as everyone else,” I retorted.
The guards stared at the pictures as though they’d been told to memorize them by a maniac with a large gun.
“Do it,” snapped Doctor Richard. Yeah, yeah. Because contraceptives didn’t always work, hence the ban on pre-Sorting sex.
Yanking the stick from the doctor’s hand, I marched to the door indicated as he disappeared behind his paper again. They wanted to know if there was a baby so they could kill it! It made my blood boil. But there certainly wasn’t, so there was no point doing anything but obey.
Returning, I deposited the duly-doused stick on the doctor’s desk before he could stop me.
“Pick it up and hold it!” he snarled, as the guards smothered sniggers.
“Oh, sorry, doctor. I thought you wanted it back.”
Glowering, he consulted his watch and retreated behind his newspaper again. After what must’ve been about a minute, he reappeared.
“Show it to me,” he snapped.
I wanted to shove it right under his nose, but I managed to control myself. You teasing Jon about revenge and then acting this vindictively? Behave, Margo. I held it out at a considerate distance, instead.
“Good,” he said curtly. “Throw it in that bin and get lost.”
So that was that. No doubt we’d all be peeing on sticks at our monthly medicals from now on.
“What on earth are you doing?” I asked that night, as Jon went on wriggling around long after the blanket was arranged.
“Just getting ready for Operation Camera Info.”
I reached out curiously, then pulled away again as my fingertips touched smooth, bare chest. I didn’t dare feel around any more.
“Er… how many clothes are you wearing, Jon?”
“Relax,” he laughed. “I’m wearing my P-Jays and my dressing gown; I’ve just got rid of the hoodie. Sally-the-nice-guard finds me attractive, have you noticed? I’m going to see if she’ll tell me what we need to know.”
So that was the plan. Buzz her at night so he could apologize for disturbing her and hopefully direct the conversation to what she’d been doing. While showing a bit of his very nice chest to distract her attention even further from what was coming out of her mouth.
“Don’t forget to show off that bandaged wrist,” I suggested dryly. “Get those maternal feelings working.”
“I won’t,” he said placidly.
“And for pity’s sake don’t be too obvious,” I added seriously. “Okay, so I’ve seen her looking at you, but I don’t think she’s stupid!”
“Neither do I. Trust me, if I can’t lead her onto the subject naturally, I’ll leave it and try again another night.
We cannot risk losing that card.”
And wasn’t that the truth.
I woke with a start as Jon crawled over me back into his accustomed spot in the bed; he’d been gone so long I’d fallen asleep waiting.
“Oh my goodness, I’m freezing,” he gasped. There followed a great deal more rustling as he got his hoodie on and climbed back under the blankets.
“Feel free to stick your nice warm head on my chest,” he whispered at last. “I’m sure it’s frostbitten.”
“I doubt it is,” I said wryly, but I cuddled up to him and obligingly placed my head in the requested position. I found his hands and they were icy, so I chaffed them briskly.
“Any joy?” I asked, once his fingers were tucked up to warm between us.
“Plenty.” Now his immediate discomfort was easing, the satisfaction in his voice was plain. “In fact, I think I got it all.”
I rubbed sleepy eyes and tried to come fully awake.
“I’m listening.”
“Right. The cameras are rolling at night—and recording—but there’s no one watching them. No point, we’re all shut up in our dorms. They don’t check the footage unless something happens—which is never—nice Sally joked they’d need to find an instruction manual. Apparently what they’re watching for in the daytime is people detaching themselves from the group while in transit—or pulling a stunt like yours, earlier.”
“Yeah, they noticed that pretty quickly. That’s what was worrying me.”
“Well, there’s no one in the camera room at night, that’s definite.”
“What about the camera over the parking area?”
“The cameras all go to the camera room. Outside, it’s the human eyes you need to worry about. Facilities don’t tend to get hit very often, but the Resistance have that charming habit of killing pretty much any EuroGov employee they lay their hands on, which makes the guards jumpy. Anyway, you know the score outside. Floodlit yards, floodlit killing zone, all watched.”
“Umm. Did you find out if the card will work?”
“Yep,” he sounded smug. “I did the indignant boyfriend bit, wanting to know how filthy Finchley
was being punished—I think it would’ve looked more suspicious if I hadn’t asked. Seems the Captain’s put him on extra duty as punishment and the Major’s taking the cost of a new card out of his pay. Sounds like they haven’t told him how Finchley lost it. But—this is the important bit—it’s not too expensive because the Major literally had to take one out of a safe, put it in a card printer and hand it to him.”
“They’re all the same!” I whispered triumphantly.
“Yes. They’re all exactly the same. The Major was pretty pissed off with him, even so. Losing a card is a serious offense, apparently. If it had actually been lost—rather than safely destroyed, as they think—he’d get the sack, ‘cause they’d all have to have new cards. Nice Sally thinks he should’ve been sacked, of course.”
“Well, he should be. But if they haven’t even told the Major… It won’t happen, anyway. Even with the good rates of pay, Facility guards are too hard to find.”
“Yeah, well, six month shifts, watching reAssignees come in intact and leave in little bags. I can see why they’re lining up for the job.”
“Did you find out anything else?”
“No… wait, yes, I know why laptops are forbidden.”
“You what? That was the next thing I wanted to know!”
“The opportunity was just there. When we were talking about how they can watch stuff on a monitor in the guardroom all night, I said, well, can’t you play computer games on your laptops and stuff—I mean, they’re paid enough to afford them, surely—and she said they’re not allowed them.”
“Why?”
“The cameras. The whole security system hinges on the cameras. Laptops—any computers—communicate wirelessly with each other, right? Well, apparently someone with a computer and the right knowledge could hack into the camera system and mess with the feeds, so security-wise they’re a complete no-no.”
“But… they wouldn’t be able to tell you had one, would they?”
He shook his head again.
“Sorry, Margo. They can. Apparently a few years back there was a girl from a rather rich family—though not quite rich enough to afford the sort of bribe necessary to save her from failing Sorting—and she wasn’t prepared to be parted from her laptop. So she smuggled it in—sealed it in a plastic bag, coated it in chocolate and put a wrapper around it—quite clever. But the moment she switched it on, an alarm went off in the camera room and they searched the whole place until they found it.”
I Am Margaret Page 16