The Three Most Wanted

by Corinna Turner

  “Ostia, Margo.” Bane’s arm slipped around me at once. “Ostia. Everything’s okay.”

  Swallowing my heart back down into my chest, I looked around, head aching, eyes gritty with sleep and throat raw with weeping. But the fog of misery and unreason was gone. Through the people packing the carriage I glimpsed warehouses outside the windows. Ostia docks. There should be a ship here. We were getting on it. Don’t think about the fact you’re on EuroGov territory and they know where you are…

  Father Mark slipped out of the crush and placed a pile of clothing on Jon’s legs. “Put these on over your things, Margo. The press’ll be looking for you above all others, you need a better disguise.” He saw my inquiring look and smiled slightly. “Oh, no one’s tried to deny you’re here, it’s just that matter of bulls and red rags, again. Come on.”

  I swung my legs off the boxes and picked up the top item. Spread out a peculiar shaped garment. What...? Oh… a wimple. A nun’s habit, the oldest type.

  “I can’t wear this. I’m not a nun.”

  “The Holy Father said to put it on.”

  “Oh. That’s allowed, then.”

  “Pretend you’re a Jew in the Great Wars,” said Bane. “Went on all the time, didn’t it?”

  “I don’t know about all the time, but there was certainly quite a bit of it going on,” said Father Mark. “Especially in Rome.”

  “Yes, um, okay,” I agreed. “I’m just not quite sure how…”

  Laughing, a young sister with the wimple-style veil eased her way across the carriage and started to help me.

  “Is your sister here, Jon?” I asked suddenly.

  “Been and gone,” said Jon happily. “One of the doctors found out for me.” His face fell slightly. “’Course, I’ve no idea how she is by now. She made it, though.”

  “Well, that’s good.” I squeezed his hand and carried on dressing, then paused to enjoy the sight of Father Mark yanking a friar’s habit over the head of a protesting Bane.

  “Trust me,” he told him, “This is as weird for me as it is for you.”

  “I doubt it,” snarled Bane.

  Father Mark just laughed at him. “Hood up, Bane. Take these…”

  He handed us both a pair of glasses. Plain lenses, I discovered, obediently slipping them on. The wimple and veil covered my forehead completely, coming up to my chin below and minimizing how much of my technicolor face showed. A laywoman crouched in front of me, took the glasses off again and began smearing makeup over my bruises.

  From the expression on Bane’s face as he looked me up and down once the glasses were replaced, the disguise was quite effective. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

  I hugged him but couldn’t quite bring myself to kiss him with us both dressed like that.

  “Ready?” Eduardo’s voice came from the doors.

  “Yes.” Father Mark pulled the blanket up so it half covered Jon’s face and plumped the pillows to hide most of his hair.

  “Let’s go. Persons of special interest to the EuroGov, stay in the middle. Jack, stick with them.”

  I found myself next to the Holy Father, the young agent who’d been put in charge of the anti-aircraft thingies hovering near us. Still wearing the coat, Pope Cornelius had added a hat and a pair of glasses.

  “These are my reading specs,” he told me, in an obvious attempt at cheerfulness, “so I’ll probably trip and break my neck.”

  “I hope not,” I said, just as falsely light-heartedly.

  “Not on my watch, please,” murmured Jack, half fervent, half joking.

  “Hey, you’re British!” His accent was unmistakable. Very upper class, in fact.

  He flashed me a grin, giving me a glimpse of a pair of very blue eyes, then went back to professional-mode, those striking eyes never still. No time now for chit-chat.

  We moved forward with the crush, Bane’s hand clamped under my arm as though I were elderly and he assisting me. Once through the doors we buried ourselves deeper in the middle of the crowd as we moved across pavement. I hardly dared to look up, but I glimpsed a police barrier further up the dockside and a throng of people, many cameras… I looked at the ground again.

  A gangway appeared before me. Head down, I started up it. Only room for one person on each side of me. The prow of the ship reared to the left, with a name, Freedom II. Did it belong to a safe town in some Free State? Jon hissed in pain as his stretcher was jolted behind us, the bearers muttered apologies, he quickly murmured reassurances…

  Then we were moving over a deck, through doors into dimness, down stairs that clanged under our feet... Finally we were directed along a corridor and into a poky cabin with bunks up each wall.

  “Think I’m off to the sick cabin…” winced Jon, as he was borne past our door.

  “Okay, see you,” said Bane after him.

  “We’ll find you,” I called.

  Father Mark, Kyle, the sister who’d helped with my veil and the laywoman who’d done my makeup were all directed into the cabin, then the door was shut. The young British VSS agent had followed the Holy Father.

  “For now, I think they just want us, er… stowed… as quickly as possible,” said Father Mark, climbing up to a top bunk.

  “That’s all right.” The sister took a bottom bunk.

  I sat on the other, since the laywoman wore trousers—she took a middle one. Bane sprung up into the one above me, leaving Kyle the other high one. All quickly and amiably enough decided. There simply wasn’t room for everyone to stand.

  “Will they really let us go?” said Sister Mari, after we’d made introductions for those who didn’t know each other. Hard to tell with her dark skin, but she looked pale to me.

  “’Course they will.” Kyle shot me a worried look. But I was all out of tears for the moment.

  “I think they will,” said Father Mark, more convincingly. “Or they wouldn’t bother letting us get this far. Unless something goes wrong, they’ll let us sail away.”

  Unless something goes wrong. Such as Cardinal Hans dropping dead of the stress a little too soon? I swallowed.

  “Was it actually a… what do they call it? A dead man’s switch?”

  Father Mark snorted.

  “Heavens, no. It will take us hours to steam out of EuroBloc waters: he couldn’t hold a switch in for that long. Just a button he could push. But he’s got it hanging around his wrist, tucked under a nice long, wide sleeve, so they can’t be sure what it is. Just in case they’re tempted to get a marksman to try to penetrate that glass.”

  “Or just bazooka the vehicle,” muttered Bane.

  “They won’t dare,” said Father Mark. “Could easily set off the charges.”

  “That’s okay, then.” Bane leant over the side of his bunk to hold hands with me.

  A tremor ran the length of the ship. The engines had started.

  “They’ve transferred the stuff already?” Sister Mari sounded surprised.

  “There wasn’t that much of it,” said Kyle. “If everyone who wasn’t acting as camouflage picked something up…”

  But it was about another ten minutes before the slight movement of the ship deepened and changed and Kyle and Father Mark, who could see through the tiny, high porthole, announced we’d undocked. I tried to breathe slowly and deeply, but I was too drained to be very anxious. They reported on the dock and the coast dwindling behind us and finally disappearing from sight, then there was just the sound of the engines and the motion of the waves.

  Someone announced on the intercom that anyone unhappy with their bunking arrangements should go and see Sister Eunice in the canteen where dinner would be served in half an hour and that, Lord willing, we’d be in Africa in twelve hours.

  We’d no complaints about our bunking arrangements, so we said a rosary for our safe landfall in the morning and in thanks we’d got this far, and went to eat.

  I woke with someone’s hand over my mouth—drew breath to scream...

  “Hush, it’s Father Mark…” The han
d was removed.

  “What’s wrong?” My heart pounded painfully.

  “Nothing wrong. Eduardo wants you and Bane. Quietly.”

  Prudently, he let me wake Bane. We slipped from our bunks and eased the door open. I couldn’t see Kyle in his bunk. Where’d he gone? It was deep night. The ship still steamed steadily on its course.

  Father Mark led us to another, slightly larger cabin. The only people inside were Eduardo and Pope Cornelius, both calm-faced. My heart rate slowed a little more.

  “Ah, Margaret, Bane, sorry to disturb you,” said the Holy Father. “This can’t wait until morning.” He waved us into two seats—Father Mark hadn’t followed us in.

  “Margaret Verrall,” said Eduardo seriously, “am I under the impression you wish to carry on doing everything in your power to undermine the EuroGov?”

  I swallowed. Nodded.

  “Bane Marsden, you feel the same?”

  Bane nodded. “Wanted to speak to someone about that, actually. But I expect now’s not the time.”

  “You have an idea?”

  “Yes. I want to empty some more Facilities. Using nonLees, y’know.”

  Eduardo’s head turned slightly to one side as he digested this.

  Pope Cornelius’s eyes lit up. “Spread hope.”

  “Yes...” From the gleam in Eduardo’s eyes he’d immediately seen the progression from mere hope to outright social unrest. “Yes. That’s an interesting one. But no, now’s not the time. The point is, this ship’s going to Africa, where you can settle in a free town and go on with your work as best you can from there, in safety. Is that what you want to do?”

  On the tip of my tongue to say yes, but I paused. Something about the way he said it, something about this whole secret nighttime conversation...

  “What’s the alternative?”

  Eduardo smiled slightly, as though I’d just passed some test, and the Holy Father answered, “A small group of us will be leaving this ship within the next half hour and travelling to a new HQ much closer to the EuroBloc. Sorting and all the rest of the rot has spread to other blocs, but it started here. When you’re getting rid of a weed, you deal with the roots first. So I’m staying on the scene if I possibly can.”

  I swallowed. “In EuroBloc territory?” Did my voice have to squeak like that?

  “No. Close to it. Somewhere happy to have us so long as no one knows about it.”

  “Where?”

  “If you choose to come,” said Eduardo, “you’ll be told when we arrive there.”

  Many island Free States were to be found in the Mediterranean—mostly dry, barren places, lacking sufficient freshwater for reforestation and of no interest to the EuroBloc. A number of them probably wouldn’t mind sheltering the Holy Father, providing the EuroGov didn’t find out. None of them would be able to put up any more resistance than a wet paper bag if the EuroBloc came to get us, mind you.

  I looked at Bane, my heart thudding uncomfortably in my chest. This felt all too much like that moment when we’d left the deceptive safety of the bus to face a trek to a destination we all secretly feared we’d no chance at all of reaching. A cowardly part of me wanted Bane to insist we go to Africa, to refuse to consider this much riskier course. How can I face this again? So soon? We just got here… and we only just made it this time…

  But we had made it…

  We had. Against all the odds. The three of us had had no chance alone, but we’d not been alone, had we? The Lord had been with us on every step of that ghastly journey, and He was still with us now.

  And the Holy Father was right. If the war was really for hearts and minds, then what we did spoke as loudly as what we said. If I wanted to fight, I had to stay.

  Bane was, surprise, surprise, scowling. Weighing the risk to me against the temptingly positive response to his idea.

  “Can Jon come?” I asked.

  “If he wants to spend a night bouncing along in an open boat,” said Eduardo.

  “I dare say he will.” Bane looked at me again. “Do you want to go?”

  “Want” wasn’t at all the right word. I actually didn’t want to go, quite a lot. But I would go, providing he didn’t absolutely refuse to go with me.

  I nodded.

  He sighed. “I s’pose we’ll go.”

  “Marvelous.” Pope Cornelius sounded sincere and I couldn’t help a faint snort.

  “I’m surprised you’re even asking me after that meltdown on the train.”

  “I saw a brave woman grieving because she could not save a brave man,” said the Holy Father very evenly. “What is there to be ashamed of in that?”

  But I turned my head towards Bane and let him slip his arm around me.

  “Well, anyway,” said Eduardo. “You two go and speak to Jonathan—make it quiet and discreet, please. I’ll send a couple of guards along in a minute to carry his stretcher, assuming he’s up for it. Don’t go out on deck until I give the word. We’re waiting for the Eye of Sauron—sorry, Vatican slang—the EuroBloc satellite, I mean—to pass over. Then we’ll have enough time—just-about-if-we’re-lucky—to get where we’re going before one of the USNA ones comes over.”

  Ah. Thank goodness most of the satellites from the turn of the century were no longer operational. And no question of replacing them, these days.

  We tiptoed along to the sickbay and woke Jon.

  “Fancy a boat trip?” Bane whispered in his ear.

  “Aren’t we having one already?”

  “This is a ship, silly. D’you want to go bounce, bounce, bounce all night in a little boat to a rather-less-safe location than Africa to carry on stirring the pot?”

  “No. Do I look mad? Are you two going?”

  “Yes,” I murmured.

  “Okay, then. When do we go?”

  “Right away, apparently. Here come your stretcher bearers.”

  Two Swiss Guards had just slipped into the sick bay.

  “Okay.” The guards lifted the stretcher he still lay on and he hissed slightly in pain. “Oh, I’m so going to regret this. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

  By the time the stretcher had been maneuvered back up several flights of narrow ship’s stairs, Jon had gone very white but not changed his mind. Eduardo was already directing two lines of people over the ship’s side and down rope ladders into a large twin-hulled highPropulsion speedboat. Lots of familiar faces from the briefing and the train carriage.

  “Margaret, you are coming!” Sister Mari looked pleased.

  Kyle…? There, just climbing over the side. My heart leapt with delight our reunion wasn’t to be over so soon, then sank… he was going back into danger as well.

  “Come on,” Eduardo was hissing, “hurry it up, move…”

  We reached the side at last and Bane climbed down first, steadying me as I reached the boat, which went up and down in such a way one had to pretty much jump for it. We sat beside Father Mark, who looked utterly unsurprised to see us. “Made it, then?”

  “Oh, very funny,” growled Bane.

  The Holy Father was seated in the middle of the boat, surrounded by anxious-looking guards. Jack was sitting near him too, clearly hyper-alert, but he returned Bane’s and my smiles. Also looking forward to getting to know fellow refugees from the British department? The boat looked well overloaded to me, even before Jon’s stretcher was lowered down and wedged into the foot well in front of us. One of the guards who’d carried him climbed down with a life jacket and wriggled a now grey-faced Jon into it.

  Life jackets...

  “No life jackets for the rest of us?” I muttered to Father Mark.

  “No space. Just say a Hail Mary.”

  Bane snorted.

  Father Mark added, “That is… there are life jackets for non-swimmers. You can swim, can’t you?”

  “I can swim,” I assured him. “We both can.”

  “That’s all right, then.”

  The cabin space below us and every locker and cupboard must be stuffed with equipme
nt salvaged from the Vatican. We fifty or so seated passengers were packed together like sardines. Father Mark was right. No space for life jackets.

  From the way Eduardo chivvied the guards loosing the mooring ropes, time was very much of the essence. All the same, ropes coiled, we floated silently until the black silhouette of the Freedom II disappeared entirely over the horizon. Only then did the engines spring into life.

  The boat leapt forward under full throttle, smacking from wave to wave like an out-of-control toboggan. Definitely overloaded. Let’s hope we didn’t capsize.

  I said that Hail Mary.

  Then I took Jon’s hand and held it. Every smack of the boat drew an almost choked-back whimper from his lips.

  “Regretting it yet?” Bane took his other hand.

  “Oh, shut up,” gasped Jon, holding tight.

  Eventually he either passed out or fell asleep. I huddled up to Bane in the nighttime chill and watched the stars, trying not to think about where we were going and why.

  We’d left the ship. The Freedom II which even now steamed towards Africa and safety. Without us.

  The immensity of the stars above mocked my little concerns. Bane’s heart beating under my ear and Father Mark’s warmth at my side and the gentle rise and fall of Jon’s chest in the moonlight mocked the mockery. Everything truly precious in the universe was right here, and I was right to worry about it. To fight for it.

  And if we made it to our destination, that’s what we would do.

  ###

  Thank you for reading my book, I hope you enjoyed it! If so, would you consider leaving a review at your favourite retailer? I would really appreciate it.

  Thanks,

  Corinna (A.K.A. the Author!)

  ***+***

  DON’T MISS BOOK 3

  LIBERATION

  The EuroBloc Genetics Facility where Margo was imprisoned stands empty...

  ...every other Facility is full.

  Time to do something about it.

  Out September 2015!

  Scroll on down or click for aSNEAK PEAK!