Infiltrators (The Wall Series Book 2)

by Alison Ingleby

  Giles silently picks up a blanket and hands it to me.

  “Thanks.” I wrap it around my shoulders. It’s thin but surprisingly warm.

  I dig the small black device out of my pocket and hold it up for him to see. “Do you want it back?”

  No answer. I walk over to the small table that’s still piled high with electronics and look for a free space to put it down. There isn’t one, so I place it on top of a shiny black box.

  I freeze, my hand still holding the plastic baton. There’s a symbol etched into the black surface, half hidden by a metal lockbox placed on top of it. I push the lockbox away, revealing the symbol: a helmet with flashes of yellow on either side. The symbol of the Metz.

  I look up at Giles, who’s shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. “You got this from the compound?”

  He frowns. “What are you doing here, Aleesha? You didn’t come just to give me that back.” His eyes flick to the small baton in my hand. “Keep it.”

  I pocket the device and step away from the table, suddenly aware that I’m dripping water everywhere. Using a corner of the blanket, I squeeze the water out of my hair.

  “I … I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” My voice is small, and I have a sudden urge to curl up and bury my head in my arms. “Everything’s gone wrong.”

  Giles cocks his head to one side, his face expressionless. He indicates the pile of cushions behind me. “Sit.”

  They look inviting. But I’m soaking wet. There’s a small crate off to one side, so I sit on that instead. Giles crouches in front of me like a street hobie.

  “You went to the compound?”

  I nod. “That’s where it all went wrong.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “Through the roof. A pod disguised as the Metz Commander’s.”

  He considers this for a moment, then nods. “That would work,” he admits. “If you had someone inside the compound to let you in. And then?”

  I tell him about accessing the Operation Nightshade files. Finding out that Andrew Goldsmith had authorized the operation to kill my mother.

  “I wanted to kill him. To avenge her death.” I stare down at my hands, remembering how they felt on the cold metal of the gun.

  “You wanted revenge.” His tone is placid.

  “Yes.”

  “But revenge is not the same as justice.”

  “No.” I look up at him. “Why didn’t I see that? Until … until it was too late?”

  He looks thoughtful. “The two are easily mistaken. Justice helps puts right a wrong. But revenge balances one bad act with another. Two wrongs don’t make a right. And neither can bring back what was lost.”

  “Katya said I needed to avenge my mother’s death. To move on with my life. That’s why they killed him. For me.” My throat tightens, and it becomes hard to breathe.

  “Who’s Katya?”

  “The leader of the Chain … the organisation I’ve been working with. I-I let him go. I was going to kill him. But I let him go. Then they captured him. Said I had to execute him. But I … I couldn’t do it. So, she took the gun and shot him herself. For me.”

  Giles shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense.” He frowns. “Why would she kill him for you? There must be more to it than that.”

  I press my knuckles into my forehead. My head throbs and my eyes are sore from dirt and tears.

  If only I could go back and have this day again. Everything would be different.

  “Can you put it right?”

  “What?” I look up into his pale eyes. There’s a kindness in them that I haven’t seen before. I always thought they were icy and cold. Or crazy.

  “You have done something wrong. You need to balance the scales.”

  “I—” Dust catches in my throat, triggering a cough. “Do you have … water?” I gasp in between fits.

  Giles stands and walks to the other side of the room. My coughing subsides, and I wipe my eyes so he doesn’t think I’ve been crying. A few minutes later he hands me a steaming mug. I take a sip. It’s surprisingly sweet.

  “What’s in it?” I ask.

  “Honey. Good for coughs.” He gives me that odd half-twisted smile of his.

  Honey? How did he get hold of that? It costs a fortune. I wave my hand around the room. “Where did you get of all this? It must have cost—” I bite my lip.

  “You help people, they help you.”

  I eye his skeletal form. “Maybe you should sell some for food. You could have got a week’s food for this honey.”

  “Maybe. But honey reminds me …” His voice trails off and his eyes darken as he stares into the distance.

  Of what? I want to ask. But I don’t.

  “I don’t think I can ever put this right,” I say quietly. “The way Trey looked at me … it was as if he never wanted to see me again.”

  “He probably doesn’t. At the moment. This isn’t about doing something for him. It’s about doing the right thing.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Giles turns and walks over to the table. “You said you wanted to take down the system.” He starts tidying, closing and neatly stacking boxes of chips, metal and other junk.

  Did I?

  “The system is broken,” Giles continues. “It was set up to be broken. The Metz were designed not to keep order, but to create fear. If you remove that fear, the system begins to collapse.”

  “And that’s a good thing?” I ask uncertainly.

  “No, that’s a very bad thing!” Giles says vehemently. “That would bring chaos!” He slices his arm through the air, sending a pile of books crashing to the ground. “You need to change the system. To fix it.” He bends down and picks up the books.

  “And how do I do that?”

  “Alone? You can’t.”

  “So, you’re telling me to do the impossible,” I say flatly.

  Silence.

  I blow out a breath. “There’s a more immediate problem. The Metz have pulled back. They’re not on the streets anymore. Everything is getting … crazy. But the Chain think they’re planning something big. Like a huge Cleaning or something. To crush the uprisings.”

  A pause. “It’s happened before. Have you heard of the Rose Rebellion?”

  I shake my head, but the name sounds familiar. “I don’t think so.”

  “It was a long time ago. I found the reports buried in the secure files. That’s how Rose Square got its name. It all began with a love affair between an Insider and an Outsider. Such things were banned at the time. They were caught, and she was publicly executed. He started a rebellion in her name. Insiders and Outsiders came together. They plotted to overthrow the government. But they were betrayed.”

  He pauses.

  “And what happened?” I prompt.

  “They were killed. All of them. Half the city got set on fire and in the confusion, they were rounded up and shot. Many more died in the flames. The government blamed the rebels for the fires, but the files held the truth. They were set by the Metz.” He turns and shrugs. “It worked. There hasn’t been a rebellion of that scale since.”

  I swallow. “Until now.”

  And we caused it. By releasing the information.

  Giles is holding something in his hands. The black box with the Metz symbol.

  “Giles, when we were in the compound, we spoke to a professor,” I say carefully, watching him closely. His nostrils flare. “He mentioned a remote command device,” I continue. “Something that would allow the Commander to better control officers outside the compound.”

  A pause.

  “The professor said they’d nearly perfected it years ago, but a vital piece went missing.”

  Another pause.

  “It did,” Giles says finally.

  I glance at the box cradled in his hands. “What was it? The piece?”

  Giles’s jaw gapes in a parody of a grin. “Me.”

  I stare at him. “You?”

  Giles looks down, turning the box
over and over in his hands. “I created the device. I’d nearly perfected it when I left.”

  “You left because of it?”

  Giles nods. “I realized what it would mean. Without it, the captains are given orders in the compound, but in the field they can make their own decisions within certain parameters. But with this, one person would be able to control them all. That is too much power. I tried to explain this to the professor, but … he didn’t listen.” He sighs. “He was a mentor to me. But he was also flawed.”

  “And is that a replica?” I ask, nodding to the box in his hands.

  “Yes. It’s not exactly the same. I’ve made a few modifications.” He looks down at the box. “It’s controllable by voice and has to be programmed to the user. And you can … you can use it to turn off their implants.”

  “What?” I rub my forehead. My head throbs and I’m finding it hard to think.

  The faintest tinge of pink colours Giles’s cheeks. “I don’t know if it’ll work. I haven’t been able to test it properly, but the theory is sound. It should block any signals coming into the control chip and effectively switch it off. Like removing the chip, but without having to cut it out.”

  I frown and massage my temples. “So, the officers would be human again?”

  “They are human.”

  “Okay, sorry. What I meant was … they couldn’t be controlled? Would they get their memories back?”

  “Yes, their memories are still there, at least those from the time before they had the chip implanted. The chip just makes them forget. After that … I’m not so sure.” He frowns. “I suspect the memories of their time as officers may be gone, but I don’t know.”

  “And they couldn’t be controlled?” I repeat.

  “The government may have a way of resetting the chips. That’s quite likely, in fact. But the officers would need to return to the compound for that to happen.”

  My brain is spinning. “Wait, I’m confused. This device can be used to both control officers and release them from control?”

  Giles nods. “Yes. Two different settings. But you can’t just switch between the two. Once you’ve turned off the chip, there’s no going back. The officers will be able to make their own decisions.”

  I try to absorb this. The Chain want control of the Metz to use them against the government. But the government wouldn’t send all the Metz out at once, that would be dumb. If we only controlled some of them, then they would end up fighting each other. Killing each other.

  The thought makes me feel sick. That’s not the answer. But if we could switch the chips off then perhaps we could persuade the freed officers to help us.

  I eye the black box in Giles’s hands. “That thing is valuable. Is that how you’ve paid for all this stuff?”

  “Other bits of technology, yes. But not with this.” He pats the box fondly.

  “You could sell it for a lot of chits.”

  “Of course. A lot of people would want it. But the question is, what would they do with it?” He gives me a searching look. “It could be very dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  I imagine Katya’s face if she got her hands on it. What she’d do with it.

  “So, you said it’s programmed to only work for one person?”

  Giles nods.

  “Would you … would you come out with me? To test it out if the Metz attack?”

  “No!” Giles shrinks back. The tall, confident man disappears. Hunched over he seems small and weak, as if he’s folded in on himself. He looks down at the floor as if ashamed. “No.”

  I take a deep breath. “Would you let me take it? To protect Outsiders, if the Metz attack.” I take a step toward him. “I won’t hurt them.”

  Giles’s eyes flash. He curls his arm protectively around the box and hisses at me.

  “I’m not going to take it from you. Not if you don’t want to give it to me.” I let my arm drop back to my side.

  Giles mutters something under his breath. He backs away to the far side of the room and sits on the edge of the unmade bed, looking down at the box and mumbling to himself.

  What’s he doing?

  I stare up at the brightly coloured fabrics that drape over the ceiling. I’m not sure what to make of Giles. Whether I can trust him. Whether he trusts me.

  When I look back he’s standing in front of me.

  “You can stay here tonight. I will decide in the morning.”

  26

  Trey

  The grey light of dawn filters through the cracked glass window. I seemed to toss and turn all night, and when I finally did fall asleep, my dreams were so full of blood and violence that it was a relief to wake up.

  I am weary. So, so weary. Not just from lack of sleep, but like all the energy and life has been drained out of me. I swallow, trying to soothe my raw throat, and close my itching eyes, wondering if there’s any possibility I’ll fall back to sleep. But the memories of yesterday won’t let me rest.

  The daylight gets stronger and there are sounds of movement from the other bedroom and footsteps on the stairs. Still, I can’t bring myself to get up. It all seems too much effort.

  Perhaps half an hour later, I hear the back door click shut and footsteps sound on the stairs. There’s a tentative tap on my door. I grunt, and Abby takes that as assent to crack open the door.

  “Trey? Do you feel like getting up?”

  The smell of mint tea wafts in. I stare at a thin crack in the ceiling.

  “I’ll just put it down here for you then,” Abby says after a moment.

  The door clicks shut.

  I want to chide myself for being rude, but the truth is, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything anymore.

  The tea is half cold by the time I can bring myself to sit up and drink it. A short while later, the door opens again.

  “I’ve brought some hot water up to the bathroom,” Abby says, looking in. “Go and have a wash. You need it.”

  Oh, thanks very much, Abby.

  I sniff under my arms and decide she’s probably right. My limbs are stiff and sore, and I stifle a groan as I hobble to the bathroom. A steaming bowl of hot water is waiting, a bucket of cold beside it.

  A steamy relaxation chamber, it is not.

  I wash quickly then plunge my head into the basin and scrub at my hair, checking in the old mirror on the wall that I’ve got all the soap suds out. The boy in the mirror looks older than I feel. There’s a haunted look in his eyes and tiny wrinkle lines at the corners of them.

  I run a hand through my hair. I’ll have to ask Abby to cut it. The remains of the black dye she’d used to disguise my white-blond hair linger on the tips as if someone’s had a go at me with a paintbrush. I dress and make my way downstairs, feeling slightly more human.

  Bryn walks into the kitchen just as I’m sitting down. I stare at the bowl of grey watery porridge that Abby’s pushed in front of me. There’s a sprinkling of sugar on top. Sugar is a luxury – this is her way of trying to make me feel better.

  A heavy hand on my shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  I shrug it off. How does he think I’m feeling?

  “I’ve just been to talk to Katya,” Bryn continues. “To find out” – he clears his throat – “to find out what happened to your father’s body.”

  I stir the porridge and watch as the crystals of brown sugar dissolve into it.

  “Trey?”

  “I heard.”

  I put a spoonful of porridge in my mouth. Tasteless, as always. I choke it down. My brain is telling me I need food, though my stomach is tight.

  I look up, just in time to catch Bryn and Abby exchanging a look over the top of my head.

  “They managed to keep his body safe from the crowd. It will be taken to your mother today.” He sounds pained. But then he knew my mother, of course. I wonder if he’ll go with the body, to comfort her.

  I jerk my head up. “They’ve moved. Recently. How do they know—”

  “They know, Trey,” Bryn
says gently.

  Of course. Milicent. She’ll know.

  There’s a bitter taste in my mouth. “Mother. Does she … do they know?”

  “Not yet,” Bryn says quietly.

  I push the porridge away and get to my feet. “I should tell them.”

  “Eat something first?” Abby pushes the bowl back toward me. “Please, you need it.”

  I ignore her and cross the kitchen to the back door. “I have to go to her.” I turn the door handle.

  “Trey!” Abby calls. I turn, and she gives me a sympathetic smile. “Your boots.”

  I look down at my bare feet.

  Oh.

  Bryn puts an arm around my shoulder and leads me back to the table. “Sit. Eat. Then I’ll take you to the Wall myself.”

  I force down the tasteless mush. Memories crowd my head, as much as I try to push them back. My father’s sad, worn face burns in my mind. The final thing I’d said to him had been to accuse him of ignoring what was right and wrong.

  I hadn’t told him I loved him. And now, it was too late.

  Salty tears fall onto my spoon. I scrub the back of my hand across my eyes to brush them away.

  If only I could go back and change things. I should have known Aleesha would do something. I should have recognized what that hard expression on her face meant. I could have stopped this.

  Should have. Could have.

  But then, am I any better than her? I lashed out too …

  I hand the empty bowl back to Abby. “Aleesha …” I hesitate. “She hasn’t been back, has she?”

  Abby shakes her head and turns to place the bowl in the sink.

  I flush and look down at my hands. How could I have lost control like that?

  “Any updates on the Metz situation?” Abby asks quietly.

  “No,” Bryn replies. “But the atmosphere on the streets is tense. Everyone’s waiting for something.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think they’ll leave it much longer.”

  Abby twists a towel around the bowl to dry it. “What about the device Jameson’s been working on?”

  “He was up all night on it. Thinks he’s got something that should work, but, of course, there’s no way of knowing until he can test it.” Bryn grimaces. “We’re hoping that they won’t all come at once. If we can find a small group of officers, alone, then we can test the device properly. Before …”