Gray stared at the Chief Constable and then, once more, at the media station and its gruesome images. ‘None of this makes any sense,’ he muttered again.
The Chief Constable felt sorry for him. ‘Do you remember back in 2035, leaving the police station late one night? It may have been the early hours of the morning.’
Gray lifted up his head, a look of bewilderment on his face. ‘What?’
‘Standing at an ATM were three men, two of whom were known to you. They didn’t have any form, but that never stopped you suspecting that they were up to no good. I speak of Spencer and Amos Ross.’
‘The Ross twins?’
‘They were with a third man. They said he was their cousin and his name was Jamie Cameron.’
‘Yes, I remember. I remember him,’ he grimaced. ‘He was Fabian.’
‘Was he? Are you so sure?’
‘Yes, he had the mark ...’ He stopped and turned to the screen. He saw the faces of the branded discards, gazing out at him as they were being taken out from one hell or another – and the realisation crept in. ‘Oh my God!’ he whispered.
No one in the room said anything as they watched him think. ‘I thought he was Fabian. I often saw them around, men and women with the brand on their faces. Sometimes their bodies turned up at the morgue, the result of some gang warfare ...’ He trailed off, understanding the implication of all those lost opportunities. ‘He must be dead, too, by now.’
‘If he is, it’s no thanks to you,’ said someone in the room. The fury and despair in the voice was unmistakable, so was the Scottish accent.
‘How was I to know?’ he cried.
‘He’s not dead, Gray,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘As far as we know, he’s the only discard ever to have escaped. He lives to tell his story.’
‘And lead a revolution,’ said someone else.
Gray looked startled. ‘Yes,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘If you had asked the right questions that night, if you had not been in such a hurry to go home, if you had just stopped and checked ...’ he paused for a moment, ‘Matrix would never have existed. He would not be leading a group of angry men and women on a revolution to bring down the establishment.’ He leant in closer to Gray. ‘Matrix wants you. He’s giving you the opportunity to put right that mistake. This is a gift, a very rare gift, you’ve been offered. I suggest you take advantage of it.’
Chapter 97
2 April 2040, 4pm
I needed to act and I was running out of time. Cyclops was under attack. There was always the chance that this might happen. They would have been searching for him as soon as he started hacking into their systems. He would have been a prime target.
Cyclops knew straight away: he knew they had broken through his defences; he knew they would attack on the ground and through cyber space. He was fighting off the cyber attack, but I was receiving reports that the ground attack was winning.
‘How many do you think?’ asked the General.
‘More than they can cope with. We have sustained causalities. The one thing that prevents them from simply placing a bomb on the premises is that they want Cyclops alive.’
The General cursed.
Phaedo was watching me anxiously, afraid to ask the question he needed to ask. I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘They’re safe,’ I whispered.
‘So far,’ he said.
I nodded. ‘Yes, so far.’
‘What will you do?’ he asked, his voice full of fear.
‘I’ve already done it.’ Angus looked at me curiously. ‘I’ve arranged another meeting with General Howard,’ I said. ‘We had such an interesting chat before. I’m sure he’ll be keen to see me again.’ I was waiting for his call.
It came ten minutes later.
***********************
2 April 2040, 10pm
General Howard met me alone. We understood each other perfectly. I had something that he wanted and he had something that I wanted. In the end we made a deal. We came to a solution, one that I didn’t share with my Blood Brothers at the time. I knew that if I did they would have tried to stop me. The deal was a simple exchange: Cyclops for Matrix.
The King was about to be sacrificed.
Within a few hours of our meeting, General Howard called off the attack on Cyclops, and he and his team were saved. If I had not done it, if I had not been willing to make the exchange, he would, without doubt, have died, along with all those who had stood by him. I didn’t hesitate; it was the right thing to do. I pride myself on my ability to see into men’s hearts. Howard did the same with me. He knew Cyclops was important to me; he may not have realised just how important, but he understood enough – enough to demand my life for Cyclops and to know I would not hesitate to give him that life.
Chapter 98
3 April 2040, 4pm
She stared out at the moving crowds. She was so hungry her stomach burned; it was all she could think about. The thought of food filled her mind – finding it, touching it and, above all, tasting it. Every time she closed her eyes she feasted on food that turned to dust in her mouth. This insatiable desire was now starting to compete with and contain her fear, and that was why she was here, now, watching the figures in black who were standing around the campfire cooking.
She had sniffed them out. She could smell the food; she knew what it was they were cooking. They were cooking sausages. With her mouth ruined by the lock, she had no idea how she would eat a sausage, but she was willing to try – if only she could get to the fire and steal one.
She guessed there were, perhaps, half a dozen men and women, dressed in black, standing around cooking, eating, drinking, laughing and talking. All of them were armed. She watched from the shadows as people moved closer to the group. She noticed how they approached with caution, with deference. They would come closer, raise their hands to their lips and their fists to their hearts and they would ask for food. They were always given it. She had no idea what they had done to deserve the free handout. She only knew that if she went up they would say no. She was a discard. She had the mark on her face, a mark inflicted by a burning-hot iron.
The memory of the pain of that branding lived with her still, the pain and the humiliation. She had the brand and broken teeth, stained yellow by the lock: she was marked for life. She was an outcast. That is what they had told her at the pod when they branded her. They had taken her to a mirror to show her how she looked. She had wept at the sight, and they had beaten her until she stopped crying. They had then threatened they would beat her again unless she thanked them for the branding. She had said thank you; then they placed her in the breaking irons and put the lock in her mouth. After that, she had done exactly what they asked her to do. That was why she had been lying in the bed of one of the carers the night the men in black came. He had fallen asleep before putting her manacles back on, and so she had managed to escape.
As she watched, images raced through her head. I can run, she thought. I can run fast, I know I can. And so she made the decision to run once more. Her hunger drove her out of the shadows and soon she was streaking forward and into the daylight. She was running towards her enemies because she was going to steal some of their food.
***********************
3 April 2040, 4pm
He was expecting me, but I would still have been a shock to him. I know I was; I saw it in his eyes. ‘You’re Matrix,’ he said.
I took off my sunglasses and he started at the sight of my eyes. ‘We’ve met before, Mr Gray,’ I said.
He was staring at me. ‘I’ve been told to report to you. But, let me assure you, we work as equals. I don’t take orders from a terrorist.’
‘Even when we have right on our side?’
‘Someone’s been talking!’
‘Only your emotions,’ I said, ‘only your heart. You believe and that’s important. It’s why I asked for you – and equal suits me fine.’
‘I’ve been told to guard you with my life. At all costs, you must survive the revolution
, so I’ve been told.’
‘The Chief Constable exaggerates. No one is indispensable.’
‘Even Matrix?’
‘Especially Matrix. I understand you’re expected at Elmscott Manor?’
‘To protect Martin Harrison, yes.’
‘Good, then we’d better go.’
Gray grabbed my arm. ‘And I don’t want to see a repetition of what happened in Manchester, is that clear?’
‘What happened in Manchester?’ I asked.
‘Don’t pretend with me.’
‘I know what happened to me at a certain police station in Manchester. Is that what you’re referring to?’
‘I am referring to my dead colleagues.’
‘They weren’t your colleagues; they were Fabian. But, if it’s of any interest to you, no, I don’t want to see that repeated, either.’
He nodded his head, seemingly satisfied. I knew I had the right man but I knew also that the mind set had been created. He was angry and disgusted about what had happened to the people in the police station – and rightly so.
The torture and death of hundred of thousands of discards were ... an inconvenience.
***********************
3 April 2040, 4pm
Euan cried out in surprise as a small figure darted forward, snatched a burning hot sausage from his hand and then shot off down the street with it. It couldn’t be; she was dead. And yet he could not forget that mop of red hair, the skinny frame and the speed of those legs. It was her.
He ran down the street after her, trying not to repeat the errors of the past. He caught glimpses of her as she ran through the crowds. She turned her head and he saw her face. It was her. He was not mistaken and he had not been mistaken before. ‘Don’t run!’ he shouted. ‘I want to help!’
She ran. She ran into a deserted building wrecked by the fighting. At least it’s not in flames this time he thought as he sped in after her.
The building was dark except for the patches of sunlight peering in through the holes in the masonry and roof. It had been badly damaged. It felt old and unstable. It smelt musty and decayed. It felt unsafe.
He climbed shaky stairs made of broken wood. He crossed floors with huge gaps and cracks. Holes exposed the skeleton structure and an intrusive sky. The building was about to collapse in on itself. Euan cursed. She’d moved from a burning house to a crumbling one. However, the one advantage to this decaying edifice was that sound carried. He could hear the faint calls of birds outside and the distant sound of battle. He could hear his footsteps echo through the building and every stumbling step he took – and, most important of all, he could hear her. He could hear her climbing higher and higher in an effort to escape him. He had no choice but to follow. The rotting stairs took him up into the disintegrating building until, at last, he was out onto the flat roof.
The building had been constructed with the idea of preserving or recreating some green space. The roof had once been a garden; it was now a confusion of weeds. Euan stepped cautiously out into the open space. Training prompted him to pull his gun out as he walked, half crouching through the fallen masonry and neglected greenery, searching for the little discard who had haunted him for so many days.
For what felt like a lifetime he hunted her across the rooftop, sometimes seeing her, sometimes imagining her – but she always eluded him. The only thing he could be sure of was that she knew he hunted her. His only hope was to convince her that he meant her no harm.
When he found her it took him completely by surprise. He had convinced himself that he would never find her.
He had moved cautiously around a corner and there she was. She was standing in front of him with a surreal smile on her face. She was hugging herself with a look of triumph. The smile said I have won and you have lost.
She was perched on the edge of the ledge and was about to plunge down to the ground, six stories below. She was about to throw herself off the rooftop and she knew he could do nothing to stop her. She was in control. For the first time in her short life, she was in control and she knew it.
Carefully, he slipped his gun back into its pocket and crept forward, knowing that, if he was to save her life, every move and every word from now on counted. ‘Hello,’ he said. She merely stared. ‘Care to talk?’ he asked. Still she stared.
He felt inadequate for the task; more than anything, he wished that Matrix were here instead of him – Matrix, who had the power to see into your heart. He would know what to say to draw her from the edge. But who was he, Euan Mackay, to think he could do it? He was nothing, just a man who had stumbled across a God. Cautiously, he moved forward and she stepped back an inch. ‘Please, no,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t jump! I won’t hurt you. I just want to help.’
She stared at him, her blue eyes full of fear. ‘Why are you chasing me?’ she demanded.
She had a voice. That was something at least. ‘What’s your name, lassie?’ he said, inching slowly forward, hoping she wouldn’t notice him moving.
‘Go away.’
‘My name’s Euan,’ he said. ‘I want to help you.’
‘That’s what them others said,’ she whispered.
‘They lied.’
‘So do you.’
He was edging closer to her. He never took his eyes from her pale, frightened face. ‘Please, don’t die. Not now. Not now when I can give you hope.’
‘You can give me nothing.’
He found he was talking to her as if she were an adult. In a way she was. She was a discard. That made all the difference. ‘I am Bràithreachas.’ he said. ‘We are pledged to fight your cause.’ He moved closer again. He could feel the wind blow against his face and hair. He could see her red hair, tangled and dirty, blow up in that same wind. ‘Your fight is my fight,’ he said. ‘Your enemies are my enemies.’ Without even thinking about it, he was giving her the blood oath. ‘Your pain is my pain,’ he finished in a whisper.
‘You just want to fuck me!’ she screamed. ‘Just like all the rest. Well, I won’t let you. I’ve had enough. No more.’ She turned. Her body moved forward, and she jumped over the edge.
***********************
3 April 2040, 5pm
‘We eat early tonight,’ Henry Fuller told his wife. She glanced across puzzled. ‘We eat and then we leave,’ he explained. Her bafflement turned to relief.
They were upstairs, dressing for the evening. Because they had guests, formal attire was required.
‘Do you think we have reason to be afraid,’ she asked.
‘What do you think? I’m not even a member of Fabian.’
‘You are part of the Inner Circle.’
‘No one knows about that. I don’t bear the mark, and neither do you.’
‘But this Matrix ...’
‘Has no idea – overrated. We’ve been monitoring his progress; he’s all over the place, no coherent action, no clear strategy – never seen such illogical behaviour.’
‘But he seems to be winning.’
‘He’s lucky – keeps cropping up where we least expect him because he’s not following a normal or logical plan. He’s acting like a mad man - he is a mad man. Time he was taken down.’
She said nothing.
He was frowning. ‘Don’t quite know how he’s doing it. It’s as if he knows what we’re thinking.’
‘What about our guests?’
‘They’re leaving straight after dinner. They’re keen to find somewhere secure, at least until it’s all over.’
‘They’re Fabian.’
‘Precisely.’
‘And what about my father?’
He snorted. ‘Charles can look after himself.’
‘But he’s Fabian!’
‘Don’t you worry about him. He’s somewhere very safe, I can assure you. He’s somewhere no one – least of all an erratic mad man and his rabble – can find him.’
Meanwhile, as they stood in their bedroom discussing their plans, we were in the building.
Galmpto
n Court was always going to be a target for the Brotherhood, but this was one target we didn’t capture. Stewart led the assault. I am only thankful that he showed restraint. We knew Fuller would be a difficult one to capture because, out of all our lists from Fabian or social services and from the Matrix worms inside Fabian, we had no evidence that Fuller was anything but a donor to the cause. We were right to be cautious.
Before husband and wife could leave their bedroom to join their guests, Stewart walked in holding a gun. ‘I am Cadros and, on behalf of Matrix, I am taking you under the protection of Bràithreachas,’ he said.
Fuller moved swiftly from fury at being caught out, to irritation and then to acceptance. He quickly agreed to accompany Stewart to the nearest holding place. Both he and his wife were checked, but neither of them bore the unmistakable sign of Fabian.
As he sat and waited with the other captured Fabians, he appeared calm and untroubled. He was certain we could not touch him. And he was right.
**********************
Euan was, at first, overwhelmed by terror and helplessness. Yet, even as panic swept over him, he bounded forward. He was closer to her than either of them realised. As she leapt over the edge and seemed about to plummet to her death, he too was flying through the air, reaching out with desperate hands. She flew out into the sky at the same time as his body hurtled across the ground.
It all happened slowly; it all happened over an eternity in time.
Euan relived his life: his meeting Matrix; his training to become a Blood Brother worthy to stand next to Matrix himself, one of the chosen few, who people watched with careful eyes and envious looks, a man who now stood proud. He remembered his sorrow and his loss. He remembered Tanya and felt once more his bitter regret. So many thoughts passed through his mind as he stretched out his hands to the skinny body flying through the air. This is impossible, he thought. This cannot be; she’s going to die for me a second time!
His hands reached out and grappled thin air. His lungs sucked in cold despair. At one moment she seemed to turn to him as she fell, a look of terrible awareness on her pale face, a look of understanding and knowledge at what she had done. He could feel her terror.
The Dream Catcher Diaries Page 54