NO SIGNAL

by Jem Tugwell

  Miles looked shocked. ‘Do what?’

  ‘Run the game with Serge. Kill people. Kill Ava.’ Clive’s voice was almost a shout and the meeting room fell silent as the waiting people turned to stare.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Miles said, but Clive could see him calculating again. ‘You’re mad. I had nothing to do with that game.’ The volume of Miles’ voice was directing the words to the room and not only Clive. ‘You’ve no proof.’

  Clive’s frustration flipped into a broiling sea of anger. ‘You. Killed. Ava,’ he said, each word punctuated with a hard, sharp prod of his finger into Miles’ chest.

  ‘Security!’ Miles called. ‘Get this mad man away from me.’

  Two large figures in black stirred and moved towards Clive, but he jumped up said, ‘OK, I’ll go. But if I find proof, I’ll break through anything to get to you.’

  Clive stormed to the doorway, face red and hands shaking, feeling that he had done well to keep some tiny amount of control and not smash a fist into Miles’ face.

  He turned and glanced back.

  Miles was staring at him, calculations running in his eyes.

  Chapter 83

  ‘What were you thinking, Lussac?’ Lance screamed.

  Clive deliberately looked at Bhatt, and not at Lance or Cathie from Employee Wellness. The pastel tones and soft sofas of the Employee Wellness ‘Meeting Haven’ weren’t soothing him. Clive’s fists were clenched tight at his sides, and he rocked forward onto his toes.

  Lance saw the motion and swayed backwards.

  ‘This is meant to be a safe, caring space,’ Cathie said. Her words were soothing and conflicted with how fiercely her hair had been dragged back into a ponytail and the severity of the cut of the dark jacket she wore. ‘We’re here to acknowledge Clive’s feelings as well as explore his actions.’

  Clive bit down hard on his lip. It wouldn’t help if he shouted at Cathie, but what a load of bollocks. He’d spent his whole life avoiding the F word, and now he was meant to ‘Acknowledge his feelings’.

  ‘With respect, sir,’ Clive said, making sure that Lance was clear that no respect was present. ‘You’re ignoring evidence, you mishandled the interview with Serge, and Miles Raven is walking free while Ava… Ava is in a coffin.’ Clive looked at Cathie. ‘So, I’m feeling fucking angry.’

  ‘How dare you,’ shouted Lance. ‘You’re the one acting unprofessionally, Defective Inspector.’

  Cathie crossed her arms and gave Clive a look as cold as a mid-winter blizzard. ‘I have noted your abusive language.’

  Cathie and Bhatt seemed not to have noticed Lance’s use of defective instead of detective. Lance sneered. Not a slip of the tongue.

  ‘Let’s all calm down,’ Bhatt said. ‘Miles Raven has made a formal complaint against you for harassment and violent assault.’

  ‘Violent assault?’ Clive snorted. ‘I prodded his chest.’

  ‘The complaint is for violent assault that led to extensive bruising and temporary loss of use of his left arm.’

  Clive shook his head, wishing that he could jump into a parallel universe where everyone wasn’t wounded and offended by everything. Maybe he needed a time machine instead to jump back in time.

  ‘Oh dear. How sad,’ Clive said and added the ‘never mind’ in his head.

  ‘Empathising with a victim is a wonderful step on the road to healing,’ Cathie said.

  Clive pinched his lips together. He had caught a look in Bhatt’s eye. She had been around the block enough times with real crooks as well. Bhatt looked away, a glitter of amusement in her eye, and Clive pushed his lips harder together to suppress the giggle.

  ‘This is no laughing matter, Lussac,’ Lance snapped.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Bhatt, back in control. ‘Inspector Lussac, you are transferred back to PCU from your assignment with Terror, pending a formal investigation into your conduct and the complaint brought against you by Miles Raven.’

  ***

  Clive looked at the empty ‘Requiring Action’ message queue and then around the PCU office.

  Zoe had been recalled to Cyber Crime, and Clive had the empty tables and chairs for company.

  And Ava.

  ‘It’s Miles. He’s the only one with the links to Serge. I just can’t prove it,’ Clive told her, but the only response was Ava’s disappointed silence.

  He had failed Ava again. Sighing, he checked the time. He had an hour until the car was due to take him back to New Scotland Yard for his disciplinary hearing.

  Was this the end of his career? Not that this was much of a job anymore. It wasn’t like in the old days, but there was no point thinking about it. There was no going back. Life expectancy was over ninety-five now, so he had forty more working years. But doing what?

  He wasn’t sure he would make it with Ava watching him.

  Clive trolled around online, scouring websites for possible leads, but there was nothing. No definitive proof against Miles. Or Issac. Or anyone. Only a gut feeling.

  He sighed and read the broadcast banner that his Buddy dragged out: ‘Statement from the Prime Minister starting in one minute’.

  Clive turned the display wall on to show the iconic black doorway of 10 Downing Street. A glass lectern stood waiting for the PM, not that she would put paper on it, but it provided a place for the microphones and sponsorship messages of the big corporates.

  The black door opened, and the Prime Minister came out. She gave a small wave and a tight smile and crossed to the lectern.

  She paused and ignored some shouted questions before looking into the cameras.

  ‘We live in times of great challenges not only for the people of the United Kingdom, but the world. The global fight against pollution and climate change continues despite the recent terror attacks. I want to assure the public that there is no evidence that the eco-protesters on our streets are behind the attacks.’

  She paused once more and Clive admired her delivery skill, if not her misdirection. She said the words ‘no evidence’ softly, so that most people would focus on the ‘eco-protesters on our streets are behind the attacks’ and not the ‘no evidence’ part.

  ‘Our focus has to be on real environmental change, but we cannot sacrifice the economy in doing so. There are too many jobs at stake. We cannot allow eco-socialism to decimate our industries and food production and plunge us back into a medieval lifestyle where each day is spent in a survivalist’s search for food.’

  Clive stopped listening. He was staring at the lectern and the stylised NM logo that he hadn’t noticed before.

  ‘…so, to that end,’ the Prime Minister said, ‘I am announcing a number of new initiatives. This first is an enlarging of the Ministry of Well-being and Health. Karli will oversee the strengthening of iMe controls to prevent the atrocity of the recent bombings happening again. The second is to welcome new experts to our Environmental Policy Group, and I am pleased to announce that Issac Townsend, head of the Church of the New Modelists will be one of those. He and his growing members fully embrace the Model Citizen that is central to government policy and–’

  Clive hit the display wall’s off switch.

  He’d had enough politics. Enough of them twisting Ava’s death to suit their own agenda.

  Issac Townsend advising on environmental policy. Issac, the advocate of population control.

  He shuddered and touched the back of his neck. He could feel the small bump and scar where his iMe lived.

  Maybe Clive didn’t have to worry about surviving forty more years.

  Chapter 84

  Clive paced backwards and forwards outside the Employee Wellness meeting haven. The jury was out, well, not a jury, but the three people on the disciplinary committee.

  He had been entitled to a serving officer to act as his witness, and Zoe had been happy to help. Now she sat on her hands, rocking back and forth on her chair.

  ‘You’re making me nervous, Boss. Can’t you sit down.’

  �
�You’re nervous?’ Clive laughed. ‘You heard how it went. I might have been alright if the so-called assault was only on a civilian. Not an MP.’

  Zoe shrugged and Clive resumed his pacing.

  After what felt like another lifetime had passed, the door to the meeting haven opened and Cathie’s face appeared.

  Her usual hard, expressionless face gave nothing away. She must be brilliant at poker, Clive thought.

  He pushed the thought aside and followed her into the room. Zoe brought up the rear.

  The other members of the committee were already waiting and for a moment the only noise was of fabric rustling as they sat on the sofa.

  The world seemed to stop for Clive. The silent room was like the calm before the storm.

  Cathie gave a small cough to mark the resumption of business. ‘Clive, as you have admitted to assaulting Miles Raven, we have no option but to uphold his complaint.’

  The other members nodded. Cathie looked straight at Clive. Nothing moved on her face. No ‘tells’, no hint.

  ‘The recommended tariff for this complaint is a double red notice – immediate removal from office, loss of salary and pension.’

  Clive’s head dropped to his chin. Shit.

  His brain clung on to the word ‘recommended’.

  ‘The hurdle that this committee has to clear in determining the tariff is whether you are “fit for purpose”.’

  Doesn’t that phrase relate to machines, not people? Clive thought.

  ‘Here the committee was split.’

  Clive looked up at the older committee member, he had seemed to be on Clive’s side during the hearing.

  Cathie continued, ‘I argued that you were, and the other committee members argued that you were not.’

  Clive spun his head to Cathie, possibly his unlikely saviour. Still no visible emotion.

  ‘The police force has a duty of care to its officers, and as you were sent to Cardiff before Ava’s tragic death, you slipped through our list of Victims of Grief. You should have been offered mandatory grief counselling, but were not. That was a failing of Employee Wellness and I believe it left you with a chink in your emotional armour which your anger escaped through.’

  Clive blinked. Had he heard an actual apology from Employee Wellness? Not quite, but close.

  ‘This is a strong mitigation factor in the tariff calculation, and it is the decision of the committee to drop it to a double yellow notice. You will remain employed by the police force, but will undertake restricted duties until you have successfully completed three months without any other issues. Do you understand?’

  Clive gave her a tight smile and nodded. It was much better than he had expected, or dared hope.

  ‘And you will undertake an extensive course of grief counselling and our new initiative of Feeling Re-centring. This is a month-long, off-site, immersive programme that will bring your feeling’s centre of gravity back into spiritual balance.’

  Fuck, sounds like torture, thought Clive.

  He was sure he heard Zoe suppress a laugh.

  ***

  Clive followed Zoe along the corridor of New Scotland Yard and back to her desk in Lance’s section.

  She had all her things in a cardboard box ready to be moved back to Cyber.

  ‘Sorry I screwed your job here,’ Clive said.

  Zoe touched him gently on the arm. ‘Not your fault. I made all my own decisions.’

  The other officers in the room started to huddle around the display wall.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Zoe asked one of them.

  ‘It’s a day for press conferences. This one’s Miles Raven.’

  Clive and Zoe rushed towards the display wall and peered around heads and shoulders to see the screen. Lance sat at the front, elbows on knees and head in his palms.

  Miles stood in front of a lectern in the old library that was bare of any corporate sponsors’ logos.

  ‘After the Prime Minister’s statement and other recent events, I felt it was imperative to set the record straight, before the capitalist spin distorts the truth and, once again, we ignore the environmental catastrophe that is engulfing us,’ he said.

  Something in his tone made the terror officers hang on his words. No one spoke. They hardly dared breathe.

  ‘Capitalism is happy to enlist the environmental movement for convenience and to deflect our calls for action, but we still have meat and dairy production fuelling global warming. We’re locked into “within-system” approaches. But these approaches, like carbon offsets, are simply a capitalist game that turns pollution into a new source of profit.’

  Miles paused, allowing his point to sink in.

  ‘A martyr is somebody who suffers persecution and death for refusing to renounce a belief. The capitalists refuse to renounce profit and will make martyrs of us all. Capitalist barbarism now guarantees eco-catastrophe.’

  Clive could hear shouted agreement from inside the library.

  ‘The environmentalists have paraphrased the great Rosa Luxemburg’s socialism or barbarism into eco-socialism or barbarism, but this is weak and full of appeasement of the capitalists. The truth is that it is eco-socialism or extinction: There is no third way.’

  Miles took a sip of water and now Clive could hear cheering from inside the library.

  ‘iMe has led to great socialist reforms. The tyranny of possession is broken. The rich can’t parade their wealth and status in environmentally barbarous cars. We finally have equality in consumption between rich and poor, but our democratic processes have failed us. The Prime Minister will drive us to extinction in the name of growth. We must recognise the truth – that the struggle for an ecologically rational world must include a struggle for the state.’

  Miles waited for more cheering from the people in the library to subside.

  ‘The term “terrorist” is often used as a political label. Nelson Mandela was labelled a terrorist for being right and challenging the South African government. Eco-protesters are not terrorists, they are freedom fighters. They are the saviours of our planet – the saviours of our children’s future. A government that’s killing its people and the planet has no legitimate moral grounds to govern. Some may claim that violence is the rupturing of our ecosystems, and that terrorism is absolutely wrong, but we face a supreme emergency. There is an imminent threat of extermination, yet nothing stops the capitalists. We can’t wait any longer. We need to act now. The only way to change is to shock the system into change.’

  Miles took another sip and stared into the camera.

  ‘It is time to uncuff ourselves from the yoke of capitalism. I sent four glorious eco-warriors to the symbols of power to relight the fire of our democracy. If the government labels my actions as terrorism, then so be it. Let history judge me, but the path of eco-socialism is the only way to prevent global extinction. People of the United Kingdom, people of the world, rise, rise and seize control. Seize the future. Give us a future, give us–’

  The display from the library snapped off and was replaced by a ‘Technical Fault’ message.

  Clive forced his way through the stunned silence that followed and stood in front of Lance. ‘Told you,’ he said.

  Clive raised his hand, finger extended to jab some sense into Lance. Lance smiled and leaned towards it, trying to initiate contact, but Clive heard Cathie’s ‘without other issues’ warning and dropped his hand. ‘This is my arrest.’

  ‘No way. This is my case,’ Lance said and turned from Clive. ‘Arrest team. On me. Let’s go.’

  The room seemed to empty in a second and left Clive and Zoe standing alone. The arrest and all the action was happening around them. They were like two static rocks in a turbulent river.

  They had been right.

  They were discarded.

  Chapter 85

  Clive and Zoe stared at the New Scotland Yard display wall. The ‘Technical Fault’ message cleared and showed a flustered presenter. ‘We seem to have lost the coverage from Miles Raven,’ he
said. ‘But we can cut to our cameras at Ava’s Shrine.’

  The display wall changed to show an image panning along the crowd. A small group of Control Rebellion hoodies jumped and cheered, but most were eco-protesters. From their angry shouts and urgent discussions, they must have all seen Miles’ call to arms.

  They faced a wall of Uniforms.

  ‘Shit,’ Clive said, ‘if Miles’ revolution is going to kick off, then now is the time.’

  The banks of protesters rippled backwards and forwards but didn’t surge forward. It was like the starter of a race had said ‘go’ but no one moved.

  ‘Look at the demographic of the protesters,’ Clive said. ‘It’s hard to fight the police when your young kids are standing next to you holding a “Give us a future” banner. They’d get trampled.’

  ‘I guess,’ said Zoe. ‘Maybe Miles’ supporters agree with his view of capitalism and the environment, but don’t support violence.’

  Zoe turned to look at Clive. She rolled her eyes at something she saw in his face. ‘Let me guess, in the old days…’

  ‘Sorry, Zoe,’ Clive said with a smile. ‘In the old days, people might have rioted. It’s one thing to chuck a petrol bomb at the police when you’re anonymous in a crowd wearing a mask, but you can’t hide like that now. We know who you are. You’d go straight to jail… Not that you can get petrol anyway.’

  The seconds ticked away. A lone child’s voice started singing ‘Save the World’ and the tension seemed to drain out of the protesters. They joined in the singing.

  The video snapped away from the protesters to show the inside of Miles’ library headquarters.

  Miles was surrounded by supporters and TV crews; he clearly had no intention of running. He was talking to journalists, probably giving them access to him during the run-up to the trial that would be watched by the world.

  If it got that far. There was no proof other than his ‘confession’. He was a politician. He could probably twist his way out of it and reframe the argument to be about the environment. Clive could imagine Miles already rehearsing his speeches. He would get a massive media platform to continue his calls for change.