by C. J. Harper
And now I’m completely at the mercy of the man who wants to kill me. I’m surprised they didn’t just eliminate me when I was at the Learning Community. Did they think that if I was trained up as a good little future Leadership member that I would never learn about all this? Maybe I wouldn’t have. It takes me a moment to remember the trigger point for this whole horrible situation. It was when I hacked into The Register to find out about my father. It’s my curiosity that’s brought me here. My questioning has led me to a place where I have fewer answers than ever. Should I regret that? Somehow, in spite of everything, I don’t. I’ve found Kay. And even though I don’t have the whole truth, I’ve learnt how important it is to keep searching for it.
The cell is three walls of solid brick and thick bars covering where the cell looks on to the corridor. The only thing in here is me.
A few minutes later, the door at the end of the corridor swings open and a guard walks towards my cell. He unlocks the door and manhandles me down the passage way and through several corridors. Neither of us says a word. He drags me into an office and pushes me into a chair in front of a desk. He steps away, but his hefty presence remains behind me. On the other side of the desk a man with grey hair and pale skin watches me without the slightest movement. I recognise him.
‘My name is Radcliffe,’ he says.
‘You miserable efwurding bastard,’ I spit. ‘You’re the one who shot Ali. You killed a little girl just because she wouldn’t tell you what you wanted to know. You’re scum.’
The man’s face remains blank but his eyes hold disdain. As if what I’ve said is somehow distasteful.
He waits for me to settle down.
‘Who are you working for?’ he asks in a calm voice.
‘I’m not working for anyone. You should give some thought to your own choice of boss.’
He leans forward in his chair and fixes me with a stare. ‘The Leader wants you dead. I am the only thing between you and him. You should remember that when I ask you a question. Now, who,’ he says in a voice so low that I can barely hear it, ‘are you working with?’
‘No one.’
‘I’m waiting for an answer. We will remain here until I get one. If you have difficulty answering my question then I will have to persuade you.’ He lifts a paper knife from his desk.
My hot anger chills to ice in my veins. If I don’t give him what he wants then he is going to hurt me. In fact, whatever I do, he’s going to hurt me. I want someone to come and save me, but I know that no one is going to.
I am alone and I am afraid.
I stare at the photos on the shelf behind him. I want this to be over.
‘You talk or you suffer. The choice is yours. Who are you working with?’
I know what I am supposed to do. I’ve seen films where the heroes keep quiet under torture. I shake my head.
Radcliffe raises his eyes to the guard behind me. Before I even have time to turn and look the guard has grabbed me by the hair. He slams my face into the table.
‘You’re working with a group of unwashed idiots who call themselves the Resistance,’ Radcliffe says. ‘Tell me about them.’
‘You obviously already know about them,’ I say. My voice is high-pitched with fear.
‘Start talking or he’ll break your fingers. Although, I wouldn’t worry too much about a mangled hand because unless you start cooperating I am going to kill you.’
The truth is that he’s going to kill me anyway. No matter what I do. The guard grips my hand tightly.
‘No,’ I say.
He bends one of my fingers back. The pain runs right up the tendons in my forearm. I think I’m going to be sick.
‘Give me a name,’ Radcliffe says.
‘No,’ I say again, but this time I’m really talking to the guard. My finger is stretched to the point of agony. He’s going to break it.
‘What were their plans today?’ Radcliffe asks.
I can’t even answer.
He looks at the guard again. He yanks harder on my finger. I try to pull away but he holds me in the chair with his other hand. He’s going to do it. There’s an audible snap as my finger bone breaks. Christ. A whimper escapes me. The guard grips a second finger.
‘Don’t!’ I cry.
‘Their plans,’ Radcliffe repeats.
The guard is wrenching back my next finger. I can’t bear it.
‘They’re going to get The Leader,’ I blurt out. ‘And they’ll get you, too.’
Radcliffe laughs.
I try to hold on to the thought that one day he will be punished for this, but my mind is scrambled by pain. The guard tenses and I hear my second finger break.
‘Tell me.’
Nothing comes out of my mouth but a sob.
‘Tell me about their leader,’ Radcliffe says.
I try to shake my head. My hand hurts so much that I can’t think straight.
Radcliffe nods to the guard who presses something against the skin on my arm. Dear God. Pain ricochets through me. I’m jerking in my chair. He’s giving me an electric shock. My skin is flaming.
It stops. I gasp for breath. Their device is much stronger than the one at the Academy. The guard leans towards me and I flinch away, but he grips my arm and applies the device again. Pain knifes through me. My legs kick.
‘His name is Ven,’ I say.
I struggle to make my mouth form words. The guard shocks me again. Agony stabs at every inch of me. It stops. I retch. I force myself to focus my eyes on Radcliffe. I want him to ask me a question so I can tell him something and make this to stop. I can’t take this kind of pain. I’m not strong enough. I can’t take any more. I don’t care if he kills me, I just want this to end.
He shocks me again.
I scream.
The desk blurs before my eyes.
There’s a sound behind me. I swing my head round clumsily. The door opens. Someone has come. I want it to be Kay and an army of Resistance fighters carrying a whole lot of guns. But it’s not my rescuers.
It’s The Leader.
I struggle out of my haze to stare at him. Words have left me, but I fix my eyes on him and pour all my hatred and anger into my gaze.
He shifts uncomfortably and looks to Radcliffe.
The Leader doesn’t care. He is responsible for this torture. How could a father do this to his own son? His face shows not a trace of sympathy. Why does he hate me so much?
He looks from Radcliffe to me and back again. His face pulled up in disgust.
This is it; The Leader, my father, is going to tell his aide to kill me.
Finally he opens his mouth. ‘Who the hell is this?’
He’s serious. My father doesn’t know that he is my father. He’s not faking it. He hasn’t got a clue who I am. Hope surges in me. I try to focus my pain addled brain; how can I turn this to my advantage?
‘He’s a trouble-maker. Resistance,’ Radcliffe says, nonchalantly.
Which doesn’t make any sense. Radcliffe knows exactly who I am. Why is he hiding it from The Leader? What the hell is going on here?
The Leader scowls. ‘What’s he doing in your goddamn office, man? You should have let Lewis question him like the rest of them.’
‘I didn’t know you were here,’ Radcliffe says. He seems a little annoyed himself.
They lock eyes for a moment. The Leader turns away. ‘Get rid of him,’ he says. ‘Now.’ He reaches for the door.
Once he walks out, I’m a dead man.
‘Wait!’ I say. I don’t know what makes me open my mouth. Desperation claws up my throat and once again I blurt out the only hope of leverage I have. ‘I’m your son.’
The Leader turns back to the aide. ‘What the hell is this, Radcliffe?’
‘He’s just trying to save his skin,’ Radcliffe says.
‘I am your son. He knows it—’
‘Take him away,’ Radcliffe says to the guard.
‘Hold on,’ The Leader says, staring at me hard.
‘He
’s lying,’ I say. ‘He knows I’m your son.’
The Leader gives his aide an appraising look. I get the impression that this is not the first time Radcliffe has lied.
‘It’s true,’ I say, trying to take advantage of his apparent indecision.
The Leader sighs.
‘We’ve had kids turn up here before claiming to be The Leader’s child,’ Radcliffe says to me.
I shake my head. ‘I’m not claiming to be his son. I am his son.’ It’s not as if I’m proud of the fact.
‘What makes you so sure?’ The Leader asks.
‘My mother told me.’
‘What’s your mother’s name?’
‘Sir—’ Radcliffe gets to his feet, but The Leader holds up a hand to stop him speaking.
‘Anne Jackson.’
The Leader’s eyes widen.
Radcliffe steps in between us. ‘You haven’t proved anything.’
‘I don’t want to prove anything. Just let me go and I’ll forget all about this.’
The Leader lowers himself into Radcliffe’s vacated chair.
I’m so close to him . . . If only I had a gun now.
‘When were you born?’ he asks.
I tell him my date of birth and his eyes swivel up to the right as he makes mental calculations. He gives a slight nod. Then he fires more questions at me: my mother’s job at the time, the colour of her hair, where they met. I find myself answering because I realise that I do want to prove something: that my mother is not a liar. But why does he need convincing? I thought he knew. I was sure he knew; after all, he tried to have me killed. Didn’t he? But as he sits there questioning and nodding his head and staring at me, to try to find a resemblance between us, I really believe that this is the first time he’s heard of my existence.
Which leaves me with the question that this whole thing started with: who wants me dead?
The Leader has the guard take off my handcuffs. Then he takes me by the elbow and steers me out of the room.
‘Send a medic to my office,’ he says to Radcliffe.
Radcliffe is clearly not happy that I am being plucked away from him, but he says nothing and reaches for the phone.
The medic patches me up. He puts a splint on my fingers and stitches a cut near my eye. I swallow the painkillers he holds out for me. I can feel his eyes on me while he applies antiseptic to my various cuts and grazes; he’s clearly wondering who I am and why The Leader is supervising his attentions, but he hands me an ice pack for my swollen face and leaves without saying a word.
‘Did you try to kill me?’ I ask The Leader, before the medic has even closed the door.
His face doesn’t betray any surprise. ‘I did not,’ he says.
‘Then who the hell did?’ My fingers are still throbbing, but my fear has dwindled. I need to know what on earth is going on. ‘My mother told me that your lot were after me and—’
‘Now I recognise you,’ he says. ‘You’re that crazy liberal kid from the Academy. You started a whole parcel of trouble.’
‘I was trying to protect the inmates of that awful place. How can you let them treat Academy Specials like that?’
‘Your mother liked to talk as well, didn’t she?’
How dare he? I consider attempting to strangle him with my one good hand. ‘Don’t start on my mother, if it weren’t for you she’d still be here.’
‘Still be here?’
‘Yes, she’s dead! She died—’ My voice wobbles. ‘She died trying to protect me from the sick stuff that goes on inside an Academy. Where you sent me.’
‘Me?’
I can’t get this all straight in my head. ‘Well, I thought it was you, or at least someone acting on your orders.’
‘Listen, young man, before that nonsense at the Academy, I’d never seen you before – much less sent you anywhere. And, surely you’d be better off at a Learning Community. You’re clearly pretty smart.’ He says that with some satisfaction, as if he’s a proud parent.
‘I was at a Learning Community, but then someone tried to kill me and deleted my records. Someone who knew that I was your son. If it wasn’t you behind it, then who the efwurd was it?’
He blinks when I swear.
‘What?’ I say, my voice rising. ‘You don’t mind having the blood of children on your hands, but a bit of swearing makes you twitch?’
He leans forward. ‘Keep your mouth closed. Or I’ll give you back to Radcliffe.’ He turns away and lowers his voice again. ‘And I wouldn’t give a dog I liked to Radcliffe.’
I bite my lip. Letting him send me to be beaten to death isn’t going to get rid of him and his damn regime. I’ve got to keep my head. ‘I just don’t understand why you’ve done the sick things you’ve done.’
The Leader sits back in his chair and presses his palms together. His smooth serious politician’s face reappears.
‘I know you’re angry,’ he says. ‘And maybe I can explain a few things to you later when I’ve more time. I want you to know that I’m not unhappy to see you. A man should have a son. Now let me see . . .’
He turns to his computer and starts tapping away. This is crazy. I should just attack him. I look around for something, anything, to hit him with.
‘Your records are pretty interesting,’ The Leader says.
‘I don’t have any records, remember – someone wiped them and I disappeared.’
He looks me up and down. ‘Your records are pretty interesting,’ he repeats.
Clearly he has access to my files, even if no one else seems to be able to find them any more.
‘You’re a smart young man. Maybe I could make use of the family angle.’ He flashes me that white-toothed smile.
Something inside me snaps. ‘How can you talk about family? What about all the kids that you’ve hurt? Those children are all someone’s son or daughter.’
‘Like I said to you at the Academy, if young people can’t buckle down and contribute to their country then we have to take action.’
‘Action? Like giving them electric shocks?’
I spot a glass paperweight on his huge wooden desk. It’s almost touching his right hand.
‘We run the Academies to get the highest rate of success. You might not be keen on all our methods but—’
‘You burnt that Academy down. That was your guards, wasn’t it? How many kids died in that fire?’
‘I didn’t want those kids to die. Heck, I didn’t want anyone to die.’
My eyes dart back to the paperweight. I’m pretty sure that one quick blow to the head with solid glass could kill someone. ‘Are you going to spin me some propaganda about how you have to make sacrifices for the greater good?’
He lets his smile fall. ‘Do you know what I’ve learnt? I guess it’s what they teach all leaders. They tell you that you have to think of the population, not the individuals. That you can’t look after every person, but you can look after your country. Well I’ve damn well done that. You’ve no idea how I’ve protected this country, the sacrifices I’ve made.’
I shift forward in my chair. What is this nonsense? Does he really believe this? ‘If you wanted to save people, why didn’t you close down Academies? Why don’t you treat factory workers like human beings?’
‘It’s not that simple.’ He lets out a gusty sigh.
I’m still too far from the paperweight. I grip the bottom of my chair.
‘We can’t afford to pamper stroppy teenagers and lazy workers.’
I inch my chair a little further forward.
‘They’ve got to learn – and it’s my responsibility to make sure they do. By any means necessary. That’s the way things are.’
My eyes snap back to him. ‘What the hell are you talking about? You’re in charge, aren’t you? If you wanted to change things, you could.’
He stands up.
Now, I’ve got to do it now – but by the time I’m on my feet he’s in front of me.
‘Things aren’t perfect,’ he says, and I’m no
t sure if he’s talking to me or himself. ‘You have to make the best of what you’re given.’ He pushes me gently back into my chair, as if he thinks I stood up out of courtesy. ‘I did what needed to be done.’
Oh my God, he really believes that he can somehow justify all the things he’s done. I see now that it’s not those who know they are doing wrong that we have to fear. It’s the people who are unshakable in the belief that their actions are right, who will maim and murder – and much worse – in the name of their cause.
He takes my silence for acceptance. ‘I have always done my best for this country.’
As soon as he looks away, I’m going to stand up and lean over the desk all in one rapid movement to grab the paperweight and embed it in his skull before he can stop me.
‘If we’re going to get along, you’ve got to toe the party line. You should remember that.’
‘I don’t want—’
He turns and takes a step towards the door. ‘I need to speak to my secretary. Wait here for me.’
I fling myself across the desk and snatch up the paperweight. I push back off the desk, spin round and raise my arm.
He’s disappeared out the door. It slams shut behind him. ‘I don’t want to get along with you!’ I shout after him. ‘I want to . . . URR!’ I throw the paperweight down in frustration. How am I supposed to hold this man to account if he won’t even recognise what he’s done? Why didn’t I go for him when I had the chance?
I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know if I should be trying to get out and find Kay, or if I can still do what I came to. There’s no time to think. I try the door. The idiot has left it unlocked. I pick up the paperweight. I could still catch him.
I steal down the empty corridor and round a corner. Which way did he go?
I slip around another corner and bang straight into Kay.
I throw my arms around her. I can’t believe it.
‘Kay!’ I stand there grinning like an idiot and she smiles back. I’m just so thankful that she’s all right.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.