by Wendy Reakes
The slap was unexpected. It stung his other cheek more than the one before. Why didn’t she believe him?
“You took money from him. Where is it?”
Heron’s eyes darted towards the window where a single shutter was pushed back against the wall. Cannes had followed his gaze and now he was walking across the room. Byron kept her position at the bottom of the bed where Heron still sat. Don’t open the shutter, he thought, don’t open...
Cannes pulled open the shutter with such force, the hinge on the top came away from the wall and plaster fell to the floor in a cloud of dust. “Hey.” Heron cried. How dare he...
He saw Cannes scrutinise the wall, Maybe he won’t...
Cannes eyes went to the back of the shutter where a leather bag was draped over the top where the straps were secured into a knot. He pulled it away and the top of the shutter came apart. It was very old. He brought the bag back and emptied the contents onto the bed.
Six piles of notes fell out; six hundred pounds worth.
Chapter 79
Byron was trembling. She couldn’t remember a time when she felt so angry and hurt by the boy’s actions.
Since their mother, Rosella, had died, Byron had practically raised Heron and his sister. Heron had always been spoilt, as a result of his role as son and heir to the Sous Llyndum throne. From an early age his father had demanded Heron be given freedom that was not normally granted to their people. The king wanted him to grow up to be a man of worth, with every experience offered him in order that he might rule with the same iron hand as his father. Byron had always maintained it was a mistake; that to give Heron freedom beyond the city walls was dangerous and that one day the king would live to regret it.
The king had been adamant. ‘He will gain little experience of life, being held within the city limits. There is another world up there and even though we may not live in it, it is wise to know how it functions. One day my son will be a good king because he will have witnessed first hand the corruption of the world upside. He will value his standing and position within our society and he will be wise.’ Later, when Byron reported one of Heron’s illegal antics, the king had dismissed them as the needs of a boy waiting to be a man. ‘My father offered me the same freedom and the lessons served me well. Now I can rule with the full knowledge of the world upside; without that knowledge I would be weak.’
‘But, that was forty years ago, King,' Byron had argued. 'The world up there has changed beyond recognition.'
‘Bah,’ the king had responded, ‘how much could it have changed? They still have the same queen.’
Now Byron was left with a boy of the underworld who’d had access to the life up there and all its trappings. The boy was corrupt and for the first time since their world began, Byron feared for its future.
“Byron,” Heron said. “What can I tell you?”
She sighed and placed herself at the side of him. “If our world is to survive, you must tell me everything.”
Chapter 80
Geoffrey and his men waited for the rain to come. The rain drove most of the vermin inside, so it was a perfect opportunity to cross the bridge. The gate was open on the other side, as he knew it would be, since the Llyns were preparing for the evening's festival.
Geoffrey and four of his men were bare-chested when they entered the Forest of Birds, so that later their clothes would still be dry. Their feet were bare and they wore brown camouflage shorts. The only things they carried were sacks on their backs and dog tags about their necks. If they had been stopped, they would simply have said they were going for a swim below the waterfall where the Charmain swam.
It was dry in the forest and there was a stifling closeness in the air, which made Geoffrey sweat. That, mixed with the smell of their artificial rain still clinging to his skin, along with the smell of the birds, was nauseating. The feel of the grass beneath his feet was slimy and cold. He considered the bird shit that lingered there and snarled at the thought of his feet treading it into the soil.
They worked quickly, Geoffrey included. He never asked his men to do anything he wasn’t prepared to do himself. He often boasted about that, proud of his capacity to still think of himself as one of the team.
He went to the far end with one of his men. Another went to the left, one to the right and one stayed back at the entrance. It took about a minute and a half to run across the landscape to reach the other end where a rock face covered in vines and moss acted as a backdrop to the woodland.
Birds were squawking above their heads as if they knew the men were intruding. When Geoffrey looked up, he could have sworn some of them were watching him. Blasted birds!
They worked with precision.Geoffrey dropped his pack to the ground and unzipped it. His men did the same. The explosives were plastic. It was all they needed to blow a hole in the ceiling and bring the Festival Gardens crashing down into the forest.
It made sense. Once it was done, it was done. There would be no going back. Permission be damned. The city’s bureaucrats would never have allowed them to blow out Festival Gardens anyway. Unfortunately for those who wished to preserve the city of London, it was the best way in. To hell with them, Barnes thought, he was more than prepared to suffer the consequence in order to get the job done.
They began to climb up the vines. They only needed to reach the roots of the trees protruding from the cliff face. They had two already picked out. They would never have reached the top. It was more than forty feet above them and there was no time. Instead they placed the explosives into hollows in the base of the trees. It wouldn’t bring the whole thing down, but it would be enough to fracture the rock, so that the gardens would eventually open up and make enough of a hole for the bulldozers to come in. That was the plan.
They wired the explosives and inserted a remote device. There was no need for a timer. He would set them off when the festival was in full swing. With any luck, if the city walls were as aged and vulnerable as he thought they were, he might even bury the vermin in their own shit. That would save a whole lot of time and trouble in the long term.
As Geoffrey descended the rope, safe in the knowledge the explosives were in the right place, a bird swooped down and ran its talons along the top of his muscled arm. He almost fell the last few feet, but he held on, despite the searing pain tearing through his shoulder. He manoeuvred himself to the bottom where he was collected by two of his men. Blood was running down his arm from three striped wounds which began to spill like water through a crack in a dam. One of the men was searching for something to wrap around it, but they had brought no clothes, apart from the shorts they wore. “Give me your shorts,” the colonel instructed. The soldier hesitated. “Soldier, you can preserve your bloody modesty or you can stop me from bleeding to death. What’s it going to be?”
Chapter 81
Ben had second thoughts after he’d knocked on the colonel’s door. It was early evening, the rain had stopped and Barnes could be up to anything. He wondered if he should leave it a while, especially if the Bird Catcher was in there with him. He was startled when the door was pulled open with violent force. “Whattt?” the colonel growled.
Ben nearly took a step back, but he stopped himself in time. He wouldn’t give Barnes the satisfaction. Instead, he barged past him and entered the apartment. Barnes’ bed was un-rumpled. Didn’t the man ever sleep? He swung about and confronted him, as he stood next to the door, still open to the corridor outside. “I’ve got a message for you,” Ben said.
The colonel slammed the door shut and strode across the floor. He put his face next to Ben’s as his body took a threatening stance. “I don’t give a toss what you’ve got.”
Ben smirked and waited for him to back off. “Well, you’d better care about this one, because it’s from Alice Burton.”
Then the strangest thing happened.
Barnes demeanour completely altered. He was suddenly a different person, relaxed and in control. The lines on his forehead flattened and the redness around
his eyes diminished. His shoulder became more rounded and his chest exhaled, removing the protrusion of his once tense muscles. It was bizarre, Ben thought. Bizarre.
Barnes turned his back on Ben and began folding a shirt. He laid it flat on the bed and smoothed the crisp white cotton of any wrinkles. He turned the short sleeves until they overlapped at the back, below the round collar, and then he folded the whole ensemble in two swift movements and upturned it, so that a perfect white square was formed.
Ben noticed the white bandage wrapped around the top of his arm. “What’s with the bandage?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing, huh?”
Barnes shrugged. “I went for a swim near the waterfall, mis-dived and caught the rock at the side. Like I said, it’s nothing.”
Ben’s eyes went to the swan-shaped sink, which had been pulled down from the wall. From where he was standing he could see bloody towels inside, soaking in water.
“What’s the message?” Barnes asked with an easy tone.
“That you are to abort...the project is not going ahead.” He waited for a reaction. He saw the muscles flex in the colonel’s bare shoulders. The back of his neck became tinged with red and the hair below his almost-shaven scalp became moist.
The colonel took the folded shirt and placed it on top of a neatly arranged pair of army combat trousers. “Got it in writing?”
“No, but I can’t imagine the Prime Minster wanting to put anything in writing down here. It would be dangerous.”
The colonel shrugged as he adjusted the pile of clothes to put them all in line.
Ben had expected attitude. The way the colonel was acting...well, it wasn’t how it was with them. He couldn’t remember a single conversation he’d had with the colonel where it wasn’t laced with bitter sarcasm. “Don’t you want to know how I got the message?”
The colonel turned about and sat next to the neat pile of clothes upon the bed. “Not really. But if you’re intent on telling me...”
“They sent my wife.”
He looked genuinely surprised. “Your wi...What the hell!” Ben watched him contemplate the information. “Why her?”
“I have no idea. Charlotte was told that she was the only one I would trust with such a message.”
The colonel was stalling. Ben could see it in his eyes. He could tell he was weighing up the facts, searching for a reason why the PM would send a controversial columnist, like Charlotte Croft to deliver a message of vital importance. That was a question Ben had asked himself a dozen times. Why would the government want the press to find out about Sous Llyndum, because surely they would now?
The colonel stood up. “Well thanks.” He motioned his hand towards the door. He was clearly expecting Ben to walk through it.
Ben shook his head. “Wait! Is that it? No opinion, no questions...no statements?”
“Nope.”
Ben ogled him and dug his hands in his pocket. “So, we’re leaving now, right?”
The colonel nodded with a pout on his lips. “After the festival.”
“Why not now?”
The colonel guffawed. “You’re the one who wanted the tour, Mason. They’re putting on a party for you. You don’t want to be rude do you?”
“No, this doesn’t add up. I saw your face in ‘Damnation’.” Ben contemplated how easy that word rolled off his tongue. He couldn’t recall ever saying that word before. “You wouldn’t take this so well…it would mean losing…”
“You really are a dumb city boy, Mason.”
“What?”
The colonel had a patronising grin on his face, meant to disarm Ben. “The message…I was told they would send someone. There were ‘issues’ that needed addressing. She told me…Alice Burton I mean, that if I got a message to abort the mission it would mean the opposite and that I should go ahead.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“City boy! Do you really think she would trust Charlotte Croft with a message like seize the city? No she wouldn’t. Much safer to give the impression of the opposite.”
“Are you saying Alice Burton expects you to usurp king Kite?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Ben walked to the window. He needed to catch him out. “That’s impossible. You have no men to speak of. Ten wouldn’t even make a dent. The king will fight you.” Ben’s mind was racing.
“Mason, there are things going on, you know nothing about. The Americans are in on this and they won’t be backing off. The wealth down there could turn the tables on our economy and theirs. The oil well alone…they’re covering three-quarters of the cost. It’ll take billions to turn this place around, but in the long term…”
Ben was stunned. The whole thing was going ahead, even without his approval. Alice Burton must have banked on his support. The planning alone must be one of the hurdles she needed to overcome. The whole thing was incredible, literally! “What about the people?”
“What about them?”
“Where will they go?”
“That’s your damn problem.” Barnes went to walk away until Ben grabbed his arm. The colonel shook him off.
“No it’s yours. If you don’t have anywhere for them to go, then I’m not going to let you do this.”
“You can’t stop me, Mason. Like I said, you’d be going up against your own government. You won’t betray us,” Barnes spat.
“I won’t have to tell them...the princess knows about Alice Burton’s message.”
Barnes shrugged and dug his hands in his pockets. Ben could see him thinking it through; whether the implications of the princess knowing could hurt him or not. Ben reiterated so that Barnes had no doubt about the weight of his message. “She knows the message to abort.” He smiled and tilted his head.
Ben walked towards the door and put his hand on the handle.
The colonel called after him. “So, what are you going to do now, city boy?”
Ben turned to look at Barnes’ face and realised he hated him more than words could say. “That’s your damn problem,” he said, before he closed the door behind him.
Chapter 82
The Bird Catcher was pacing back and forth across the floor of Heron’s chamber. She was thinking. Thinking hard! She stopped and turned to glance at the prince sitting up against the backdrop of his bed. Byron allowed him to remain there, knowing the bed was his favourite place to spend his time. She wanted him to feel comfortable and safe so that he would tell her everything.
“Minister Barnes asked me to collect some packages…”
“When?” Cannes interjected.
He stuttered. “W…what do you mean?”
“When did he ask you to collect some packages?”
Heron was shaking his head. “I…we…my friends…we go to a cyber café on Monument.” He held out his arms as Byron and Cannes exchanged looks.
Monument! Byron knew the station well. The forefather, Christopher Wren had erected a tower there in 1671 to mark the Great Fire of London. It was over two hundred feet high and it was there at the very top, she and Cannes had climbed 345 steps to meet in secret. As lovers they would often spend the night watching the roofs above London, especially the now sacred Pudding Lane, which was a stone’s throw away and where the fire began.
“We don’t do anything,” Heron was saying, “We just play video games. That’s all. We don’t go outside the station. Never!”
“Video games?” Byron offered a perplexed expression.
“Yes, Bird Catcher…it is a game…”
“Never mind that now. Go on.”
“Minister Barnes came in…He asked me if we wanted to make some money. Money to play more games…that is all…and buy…”
“Buy what, boy?”
“Coke.”
Byron’s shoulders slumped and she sat upon the bed. She was suddenly exhausted. “What is this coke?”
“It is a drink, it is fizzy…we like it.”
“Fizzy?”
He nodded.
Cannes spoke. “What arrangement did you make with Barnes?”
“He gave us £400 and said we could get more when we do some things for him.”
“Four hundred pounds?” Byron gasped. “That is a fortune…”
Heron shrugged.
“Go on,” Cannes instructed.
“He came to us seven days ago. He said he was coming to the city to speak with my father, the king. I told you that, Bird Catcher, do you remember? That’s how you knew the Jellalabad were coming. Remember?” Byron didn’t answer, but yes she remembered him alerting her to that. “He said I was to meet him so that he could give me more money…”