London Wild

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London Wild Page 31

by V. E. Shearman


  ‘But how did you…?’

  ‘I’m a trained officer of the Elite Guard,’ was Fredrick’s reply; ‘I’m trained to tell when someone is lying or holding something back. It’s like spotting a disguised cat. I do it almost automatically. I’m surprised you’ve forgotten how if you can’t do it.’

  ‘It’s more than seven years since I was in the Guard,’ Sult told him simply. ‘Things that come as second nature are easy to lose when they aren’t used. I can still spot a disguised cat, though, if that’s any consolation.’

  Fredrick laughed, ‘So what’s eating you?’

  ‘It’s to do with the groups of trainees that are going around grabbing pet cats before they’re due to be handed in. One of these groups came to a concert of ours a few days ago, and before we even knew about the new government policy they had taken Amba from us. Amba was our feline group member.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Fredrick knowledgably. The mention of the name Amba seemed to stir a spark of recognition as he said, ‘one of the two you had in your group, I seem to recall.’

  ‘Two?’ Sult looked at his friend quizzically.

  ‘You forget that I went to see you and your group perform soon after you formed. You weren’t too bad, but as well as Amba there was a second cat in the band. The bandleader, I seem to recall, a wild cat. I’d be very surprised if you didn’t know about him.’

  ‘You knew about Joseph and you didn’t say anything to anyone?’ Sult was surprised, though anyone of the Elite Guard watching them perform would most likely have recognized Joseph for what he really was. It was really only a matter of time until someone acted; if anything, they had been lucky that Joseph hadn’t been discovered already.

  ‘You’re my friend. I’d not do anything that’d cause you to lose your job, the same way I’d expect you not to ask anything of me that might put my future in the Elite at risk.’ Fredrick smiled at Sult across the table and finished his lager.

  Sult looked at the little bit of lager he had left in his glass and fingered the rim. The resultant friction made no noise, as the rim of the glass was still too damp to produce the whistle that Sult had been hoping for.

  ‘You were about to ask if there was any way I could get Amba out for you, weren’t you?’ Fredrick added.

  Sult nodded slowly. ‘She’s Joseph’s wife.’

  ‘He should be handed in, not she handed back. He’s wild! She must be too, if they’re married.’ Fredrick seemed quite stern, and Sult realized that this conversation could turn very ugly.

  ‘They don’t hunt. If they did, I wouldn’t even have considered asking for help. They live on those pill things that are given to the pets. All they want to do is live in peace, together,’ Sult implored his friend.

  ‘That’s a very good desire, and I wish them luck. Shame that one of them is currently in the Cattery, and she isn’t likely to be released.’ The sternness had already gone from Fredrick’s voice, and Sult couldn’t help wondering if he had just imagined it. Fredrick was looking longingly at his empty glass.

  ‘So you’ll help?’ Sult asked.

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ Fredrick replied sternly. ‘In fact, I seem to remember saying I definitely wouldn’t be willing to help.’

  Sult finished his glass of lager quickly and then summoned the dispensing machine to gain them two more pints. The drinks poured; the machine vanished back into the table again. With a new pint in hand Sult glanced quickly around at the table with the drug dealer. She was alone again, but the pair that had been buying from her were still in the public house, sitting at a table nearby.

  ‘Well, I guess I tried,’ Sult commented. ‘The band will probably break up and Joseph will just have to live with it.’

  Fredrick nodded. ‘Good. You see, it’s a little more complicated than me going to the cell that Amba is housed in and taking her out of the Cattery walls. I can’t just take her for a walk around the forest and then return without her; it’s not as simple as that. Assuming I wouldn’t get funny looks from those on the gates for even suggesting such a thing.’

  Sult stared at his new lager helplessly. Well, he had tried, but he probably had been too optimistic. How was he going to explain to Joseph that he couldn’t get any help in getting her released? And Joseph was probably at home now twiddling his thumbs and relying on Sult to come up trumps in this matter.

  ‘But the situation is even more complicated than that. You see, yesterday a rescue attempt was made on one of the cats in the same cell as Amba. The rescue was foiled, but now she and the others in that cell are on some sort of close watch list. There’s even a guard posted outside the cell door twenty-four hours a day now. I couldn’t even get her out of her cell without a direct order from Colonel Norton.’

  ‘But why…’ Sult started.

  ‘The cats sent one of their best to rescue whoever it was they were after. I probably shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but they intend to move all the cats from that cell to a maximum-security facility. Security is so high there that even the Elite stationed in the Cattery didn’t know where they’ll be going. It’s all being treated as need-to-know.’

  ‘And Amba is on that list?’ Sult asked.

  ‘She was in the same cell he went to, so I’m afraid so. That’s why I recognized the name the instant you said it. I won’t be able to help you because I can’t. I simply don’t see how we could get her out.’ Fredrick commented, ‘Until she leaves the Cattery, her every movement is being watched carefully, and once she arrives at the new prison camp, security is bound to be even tighter, with the added problem that we don’t know where it is.’

  Sult sighed, ‘Well, at least she’s alive.’

  Fredrick nodded mournfully. ‘She’s alive. Though at the rate they have been destroying the inmates, it’s lucky she survived. It’s probably something to do with her actually being wild, a healthy skepticism of the guard’s true intents. For now she should be safe; she’ll probably stay alive until they do whatever they want her for. I think she’s intended to be some sort of pawn in some political game. It could just be that they know one of those in the cell was important enough for the cats to send their best in attempted rescue, but they don’t know which of them. It’s the only thing I can think of. Though obviously there might be another reason.’

  Sult sipped his lager, not really in the mood for it anymore. ‘When is she due to be shipped out? Do you know?’

  ‘The day after tomorrow, I think. Johnson, a good friend of mine, will be driving the truck that takes them. He told me the Colonel had wanted them delivered tomorrow, but this attack on Sou’nd means that every truck we have has to be on standby in case it’s needed for some reason. Damn that Slim, though I suppose that at least it buys Amba another day.’

  ‘Two days.’ Sult poured some lager down his throat, but he wasn’t enjoying it anymore.

  ‘Then she’ll be gone from the Cattery. If you don’t get her out before then, you’ll never see her again. And I’m not about to help you plan any sort of suicide attack on the Cattery to help you rescue her. I think you should forget her. If Joseph can’t live without her, it merely cures another cat problem.’

  Sult seemed a little shocked at this last part. ‘Don’t worry; I don’t think I’d be willing to join in on such an attack. Joseph may try to talk the cats into some sort of assault.’

  ‘We’d cut them to pieces,’ Fredrick replied bruskly; ‘you know that.’

  ‘It would put you at risk too,’ Sult commented. ‘I really don’t want to exchange her for you.’

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ Fredrick laughed.

  Sult reached under the table and scratched an itch that had been working its way up his leg. He returned his hand to his pint. ‘How trustworthy is Johnson?’

  ‘What do you have in mind?’ Fredrick asked interestedly.

  ‘Well, we can’t rescue her from the Cattery; that much is plain. And we aren’t going to be able to rescue her from this maximum-security place that she’s going to, not leas
t because neither of us knows where it is, and if anyone were to try and follow the truck to locate it then chances are they wouldn’t get very far.’

  ‘Sounds about right,’ Fredrick said. ‘If they saw you following, they’d radio in and report you and you’d be intercepted and detoured, assuming they didn’t simply decide you were a security risk and just destroy you.’

  ‘Right,’ Sult commented, ‘so the only thing left is to rescue her from the truck itself. Since the driver will call in the second anything unusual happens, we have to make sure that he’s expecting us. More importantly, we have to bring him in on the deal before he leaves the Cattery.’

  ‘What’s with this ‘we’ stuff?’ Fredrick asked him accusingly.

  ‘Can we trust Johnson?’ Sult asked again, ignoring the inflection in his friend’s voice.

  ‘He’d leave the Cattery with eleven cats. He’d arrive at his destination with ten. Someone would be bound to notice the discrepancy. They would have to be paid a hell of a lot to even consider such an arrangement. It’s likely to cost them and quite possibly myself our jobs. The money would need to keep us for life, and I don’t think you have the sort of cash I’m talking about,’ Fredrick told him. He tipped his glass back further, trying to get the few drips that had settled at the bottom.

  ‘Them?’ asked Sult, a little unsure.

  ‘Johnson is only the driver; it’s normal practice when transporting cats to and from the Cattery to have a pair of guards in the back watching them at all times. They would have to be paid as well, and I’m not even sure they’d agree, regardless of how much they were offered. Johnson is the only one of the three I know, and remember that many of those who join the Elite Guard do so because they want revenge for something the cats have done to them or their families in the past. It’s unlikely that both would be willing to let one of their charges go for money.’

  ‘Well, we can try,’ Sult replied. He felt as if he was plucking at straws: just when a possibility offered itself it seemed to fade away again.

  ‘Like I said, you don’t have the money for all four of us. Remember, if I talk to Johnson he can finger me as the originator of the plan, so I’ll probably be out of a job too.’

  ‘Johnson will talk?’ Sult seemed a little surprised.

  ‘You know the drugs they use,’ Fredrick told him. ‘If they feel the need to find out what happened, they will use them and I’ll be exposed. And remember, I know about Joseph and what he really is.’

  ‘And everything will cave in about our ears,’ Sult reluctantly agreed. ‘Shame you can’t take a cat from one of the other cells, one that isn’t being watched, and replace Amba with her.’

  ‘Now that’s a thought,’ Fredrick commented. ‘It’d still be dangerous to do. I don’t think one taken from a cell, though. She would be missed. But if one was taken from those being destroyed…. Of course, I’d have to bribe the one giving the injections to acknowledge that she was destroyed. If the paperwork doesn’t add up the whole plan will collapse. Fortunately I think most of the doctors there would be willing to turn a blind eye to the rescue of one cat from the destruction line. I’ve overheard many of them complain privately that they think what they are doing is morally wrong because their victims are people’s pets and not a threat like the wild cats. It’ll still cost a lot of money, but we might get away with it. If only I could be sure that we could trust the guards, I’d be willing to risk it. Only because it’s you, though. If Joseph had asked I’d have refused point blank and probably turned him in at the same time.’

  ‘Joseph doesn’t know you,’ Sult told him. ‘Anyway, you have my number; if you decide the risk is worthwhile after all, let me know how much it’ll cost me and we’ll arrange a meeting place before you take the others on to their final destination.’

  ‘Johnson I trust, but with two in the back of the truck and the doctor and possibly the doctors assistant too, I wouldn’t hold your breath. That’s five people not including myself, and it only takes one to raise the alarm. If possible I’ll see about getting myself made one of the guards for the back of the truck. That’ll help tip the odds a little in your favor.’ He looked at his empty glass and then across the table at the almost full glass Sult still had. He wasn’t going to wait any longer and started to order them both a new pint.

  Sult got the hint and downed his pint quickly, ending with an involuntary burp.

  ‘If by some miracle everything works out as planned, what do you plan to do next?’ Fredrick asked quizzically.

  ‘Well, we should lie low. Amba can’t exactly walk about in the open with every policeman, every soldier, and every Elite Guardsman shooting any cat they see out of hand,’ Sult explained, spreading his hands as he talked as if open to suggestions.

  Fredrick nodded. Then he nodded towards the I.R. booth and said, ‘Fancy another go?’

  Sult grinned. ‘You know, I don’t remember cats ever being that hard to kill in real life.’

  Day Five

  Battle

  The term ‘laser,’ when referenced to rifles or pistols, is actually a generic term that dates back almost a full millennium to the very first use of such devices.

  The modern-day handheld laser weapon actually has more in common with a plasma beam than a laser, despite its name.

  19

  Two In The Morning

  It was close to two in the morning, and George couldn’t sleep. It was his brother’s fault, of course. Stanley and Maureen had had a long day and were feeling quite tired when they arrived (probably something to do with the time difference between Earth and the moon), and he and his wife had gone to bed much earlier than George usually did. Somehow he hadn’t felt right staying up too much later and he too had turned in, but his body didn’t like the early hour and refused to go to sleep. Even as he passed his normal time for turning in, he just lay there, unable to sleep, while his mind thought about what might happen to him during the next few days.

  He rolled over and glanced at the clock. Had he slept? The last hour seemed to have gone by fairly quickly, and yet he didn’t think he had actually gotten any sleep in its duration.

  The sound of the rain fizzling against the anti-cat security screen that protected his bedroom window seemed now a lot louder than it had when he had first turned in. He wondered how Stanley and Maureen were coping with it. Not only were they in a relatively strange bed, but they weren’t used to the sound of rain on the moon. Unless they had the sound piped through in the form of mood music. George had heard that some people liked that sort of thing, though he couldn’t see any real attraction in it personally.

  Now his mind moved to thoughts of the security screen across the window. It was a very simple electric-laser shield which, if touched, was non-lethal to humanoid life forms. No one wanted to risk a fatality or even so much as a lost finger should he—or anyone, for that matter—accidentally touch the screen while it was active. It did, however, have the added bonus of killing any insects attracted to the lights in the house. The man who had sold him the system had veritably frothed at how great a deterrent it was where cats were concerned. He’d even made it sound as if cats were too stupid to try and find some other way of ingress. The man had also insisted that with this system George wouldn’t need to worry about other things like bars on the window. George wasn’t the sort to risk his life at the say-so of one overzealous salesman, though. Besides, the bars had already been a fixture of the house when he had bought it.

  Thinking about cats and cat deterrents automatically caused him to think about Kitty. How was she doing? What would she be thinking of, if she was still alive and out in the open on a night like this? Had she forgiven him for trying to save her life, or did she blame him for kicking her out of his house and into such a storm? She hadn’t called once since she had left, and he couldn’t believe she would deliberately avoid calling him if she had forgiven him. Perhaps she was dead. No, he couldn’t allow himself to think that way. Kitty was alive and well somewhere; she had to be. S
he just had to be.

  A flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder joined the cacophony on the security screen, and George rolled over again so that he was no longer facing towards the window. The thunder would be bad enough, but there was no way he could sleep with a light flashing in his eyes every few minutes.

  The window in this bedroom faced the front of the house, overlooking the driveway and his car. Despite the noise of the occasional thunder and the constant pfiz pfiz pfiz of the rain against the security shield, he could also hear a couple of people talking out in the street below. Their voices were muffled so he couldn’t actually hear what was being said, but there were at least two people out there who seemed to have no compunction about raising their voices at this time of night.

  Silly to be out at a time like this, he thought to himself, trying to ignore them as well as all the other noise and the flashes of light. Even without the threat of cats, this is no weather to be out in.

  He rolled over again so he faced the window once more and glared at it. Either they were drunk and were ignoring the danger they were in, or (his mind tried to resist the idea) they were cats themselves and were in no danger at all from their own kind.

  George closed his eyes and willed them away. His mind quickly moved from window to window and door to door. Were all the security systems on? Could the cats get in? Why, when he was so close to leaving this house and escaping to Mars, why would cats choose now to try and break into his house? He was expecting a lot of trouble in London because of Slim’s move on Sou’nd tomorrow…well, actually, that was later today now. But why of all the houses in the city would they choose him, and why now? Couldn’t they wait just three more days?

  The voices seemed to vanish, and George let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then he heard footsteps; were they leaving? They sounded as if they were getting closer, but with all the other noise going on out there, it was probably just his imagination. It had to be his imagination. How could he hear footsteps with all that hissing on his security screen, the thunder outside, and the constant pitter patter on the rooftop of the house? Perhaps the voices he’d heard had been only in his imagination—a dream, maybe.

 

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