by Vance Huxley
Harold didn’t need telling. “She’d killed them.”
“She came downstairs with blood all over her blouse and skirt, and her legs and arms and boots.” Fredrick swallowed hard, something between horror and disbelief on his face. “She still looked happy, in spite of the blood and that big knife. I thought she would kill us next. Instead she told us the Murphies would blame me, and told us where to run and how to hide everything. She promised the Murphies would be too busy to chase us.” He glanced at Kathleen. “She told Kathleen to rouse the kids quietly and pack our gear. To take tools rather than kettles, because you’d fix us up?” Harold nodded, he’d make sure they got a full set.
Sharyn butted in, smilingreassuringly because Harold looked a bit forbidding dressed like that. “You’ll get everything you need. Bedding, furniture, the full trip,even if the actual rooms might be a bit cramped.”
When Kathleen smiled and nodded, Fredrick sighed in relief and continued. “She took me upstairs to get all those weapons. I had to search the bodies, take their coupons and their belts, ammunition, everything. She told me how to hide the rifle. There are spiesnear here?” Harold nodded again. Fredrick shuddered again before continuing. “The men were lying in pools of blood. While I collected everything, she started cutting the bodies up, cutting bits off. She followed me downstairs and gave us instructions on finding this place, and a route out that avoided the front lines. Then she wiped the blood off her face and boots, put her coat back on to cover up all the rest, smiled again and left. So did we.” He flopped back in his seat. “We stayed in a cellar last night, right where she said it would be, and came in today.”
“We are safe now, aren’t we? She said we would be, and Rosalyn when she’s older?” Kathleen looked hopefully from one to the other.
“Too true.” Sharyn nodded towards Harold. “I’m his sister. I’ll get you settled in personally, and he’ll deal with the protection bit. All you have to do is forget it happened.”
“It’s all over now. You can’t forget the woman and the weapons, but never mention them to anyone.” Harold tapped the rifle. “This is a secret and so is how you got it.” Fredrick nodded jerkily, followed by his wife. “Good. Take your tools with you. Stephan will welcome you like a long-lost brother, becausehe’s snowed under with carpentry work. If you help him that’ll cover your contributions, and leave you extra coupons for the kids.” Both Fredrick and Kathleen looked relieved.
“We’d rather the kids didn’t know about the woman and all that.” Kathleenwaited for agreement, then the pair followed Sharyn to collect their children and find a meal and bed. They’d probably be sleeping on someone’s settee tonight, until more scavenged beds were dried out. Fredrick’s first job would be helping Stephan build bunk beds, so Patty’s twenty-five Demons could squeeze into one six-bedroomed house. Every one of the six houses in the Annex was needed, because right now some of the single flats in Cherry Tree House held a family of three or four.
Harold saw a gleam in Emmy’s eye as Fredrick and Kathleen left, and braced himself for some teasing about girlfriends and presents. Later he told the rest of his top advisorsabout the 7x64 hunting rifle, explaining what Caddi told him about the gun repairs. He’d already mentioned the change in Murphy tactics. Now they all agreed that Mercedes had killed the new Murphy sniper, and possibly the alternative gun repairer. Harold rode out more humorous abuse about his girlfriend’s idea of gifts, begging off discussing what he intended giving her in return. He’d love to give her a Rambo, decorated with a big bow, but that might take some explaining.
Nobody had much time to dwell on Mercedes because the refugees kept coming. The weekly queue at the armoured bus to collect coupons became a little longer every fortnight, as the newcomers went in to register their new address and thumbprint the receipt. Everyone had to collect their coupons personally or they didn’t get any, so Caddi’s watchers tried to counthow many filed out of Orchard Close. As the numbers crept up above two hundred, that brought other changes.
Harold now walked around with a pistol, Rambo knife and a machete as well as his Soldier Boy stick.His own people insisted, to back down any challenges and reassure the newcomers.He also had to have twoalmost permanent bodyguards.Oneor sometimes both were female,becausemany female trainees took up Wamil training and somebecame very dangerous. Ru became a vicious infighter and a very good shot, at least partly due to her fierce dedication to training.Her close escape from the rapist drove her.She losther wary edge around Orchard Close men, butRu still sharpened up near any visiting gangster. Once the diminutive fighter started thinking, rather than reactingto scroats,Patty made her the official Deputy Demon. A few of the Asian Demons started calling her Myrtyua or Aneka Myrtyua but Ru didn’t answer to it. Eventually someone told Harold it meant many deaths, or something similar, a reference to the wide variety of weapons Ru practiced with.
Because of the status boost, Harold had to stop going to the Mart. Someone might take the chance to attack a’real’ gang boss who came unarmed along the bypass. Emmy pointed out that Caddi, the General, or someone like themmightstart a war by taking out the gang boss.That was how Caddi opened his campaign against the Murphies. All an attacker would need was a decent rifleman in theabandoned houses, three hundred yardsfrom the bypassacross the exclusion zone. Harold knewEmmy, Patty,Roy, and probably Ru or Alfie could do the job, and conceded.
Casper usually supervised visits to the Mart now because of his size, and took big men including all Liz’s potentialmetal beating apprentices. Other menwent as well,including some without unarmed combat training because the volume of shopping had doubled. The shoppers started going the other way along the bypass, to SainsMorr Mart, on the week they didn’t visit TesdaMart. The soldiersdidn’t mind because most gangsters went shopping any time they wanted, armed to the teeth. The Orchard Close shoppers were still searched, so they had to rely onthe unarmed combat specialists until they could unscrew their iron bars. So far, apart from a few minor skirmishes, they’d got away with it.
*
When Harold suddenly received notificationsabout the issue of new computer games, delivered by a man in a small car, it meant the shoppers could avoid those days.The man never actually spoke to Harold, or came inside Orchard Close, just dropped off a leaflet and drove away. The Coven suggested Harold had now got a big enough gang to make it onto some list.In late August,Soldier Boy made it onto another list. One morning,four very clean, smart SUVs with dark windows pulled up at the bottom of the road to the gates. A Hot Rod followed in a smaller car. He beckoned to the watchers,driving off with them down the road towards the Mansion. By now Harold had arrived at the gate.
A short, slim man, dressed in new or almost new jeans and a plaid shirt, climbed out of one vehicle and walked up the access road. He stood in front of the gates and turned slowly on the spot with his arms out,the universal declaration that he was unarmed. He had no knife, which made him more unarmed than the gangsters ever were.”I would like to speak to Soldier Boy.”
“Speaking. You are?” Harold wondered because that wasn’t a gangster or even a local voice. He had clear diction and the man’s accent sounded good enough for the BBC, even old style BBC.
The man gave a small smile. “I am usually known as Dealer.” His smile interested Harold,a slightly mocking smile that invited him to share the joke about all the bullshit names. Harold didn’t think the same smile would go down well with Caddi, which meant the man knew something about Soldier Boy being different. “Probably because I make a lot of deals.”
“What sort of deals?”
“That would be better discussed in private.” Dealer raised a hand. Eight men climbed out of the cars,quickly followed by the four drivers. All of them had Army buzz-cuts and wore suits and shades. Harold would bet all twelve were armed under those jackets. “I spend a lot of coupons on protection. Advertising to everyone might mean I needed many more men. Could we speak privately, please?”
“We don’t deal in flesh or drugs. If
it isn’t either, come on in and we’ll talk. Privately.” Dealer didn’t even hesitate. Once through the gate he held his arms out again but Harold shook his head.”You’re not carrying any more than the nutters do. If you are and you use it, you’ll be committing suicide.” Harold indicated the people walking about nearby. Nearly everyone, man or woman, wore a knife while many had a machete, a pistol, or carried a crossbow. The guards, of course, carried them all.
Dealer took a slow look round but didn’t look particularly worried. “Definitely different, especially the mixture of sexes. Are you expecting trouble?”
“No. All my people carry weapons if they wish and are trained if they ask.” Harold led the way into the Embassy, offering a beer from the crate. He only used one room now, the rest of the house had been furnished for refugees. Casper had thickened the dividing wall, making the room smaller but more or less sound-proofing it for private conversations.
“No big house?”
“No marching a stranger through Orchard Close, where he might see too much before I know just who he is. I can sort out coffee or tea if you prefer it?” Harold felt twitchy.He would have pegged the man as official, government,except the government didn’t come into the city. Thathad to be a deliberate act, along with the FBI act by the bodyguards.
The man raised the bottle. “This will be fine, thank you. I am known locally as Dealer, and I do make deals. You have just appeared on my list of people who might be interested. Do you require percussion caps, primers, propellant or powder for reloading ammunition?” Dealer produced that little smile again, probably at the look on Harold’s face. “I also have a limited number of empty brass cases, and I can source clips for some weapons. Possibly some very good ammunition for the right price.”
Harold sat there gobsmacked. Orchard Close propellant came from other gangs as part of Harold’s gun fixing trade. The gangs sometimes offered reloads, but they tended to skimp on the filling and use damaged brass so Harold preferred to load his own. He’dspent hours wondering why the gangs always had plenty, and now it turned out to be a bloke called Dealer. “The other gangs keep you a deep dark secret.”
“So will you, or I won’t come back. I talk through the possibilities with the gang boss and nobody else. One on one without any guards. We make the actual deal out there, and you can bring a trusted man for that.” Dealer smiled again and this one had real humour. “Armed to the teeth if you wish,because my man will be.”
“What do you want in trade?” It wouldn’t be beer, or soup in jars.
“If you’ve got a Rembrandt or a Rodin tucked away, I can make you a really good offer?” Harold laughed at him. “No? Oh well, I live in hope. There are still people who will buy them. Gems of course but only good ones. Bulk gold in ingots but I will test it first. Gold jewellery, ornaments or other paintings. A Banksy would be wonderful but I doubt a single one survived.”
Harold laughed again. “Wrong place, Dealer. We have plastic containers with sealing lids, glass jars with tops, good soup, real rabbit burgers, the best homemade beer and some novel ironware.”
“Definitely novelty ironware. I like the maces and definitely want to discuss the knives, or are theyshort swords? Someone told me they are called Rambos and I would love to see one properly. I might buy a small amount of beer,judging by this.” Dealer paused, just for a beat. “Do you sellthe guns you make?”
“Naughty. Someone has been indulging in the Barbies’ most infamous product. I fix guns but I can’t build them.” Harold laughed again and hoped it sounded natural. So much for secrecy.
“Odd that. Nobody can any more. How good are your repairs?” Dealer still wore a little smile, the one that invited Harold to share a joke.
Harold duplicated the little smile. “You know, because you’ve asked.”
“I’ve got some idea, and I might do a deal over repairs in the future. I’ve just added black powder for muskets to my product line, and understand you might be interested?” That had to be a probe.Muskets were very new and publicly Harold hadn’t got any yet.
“Not unless I get into a war, because I traded for enough to keep us going. I am interested in propellant for reloads and maybe some brass, if I can find anything you want.” Harold wanted to know the propellant prices, if only for trading with the gangs. Black powder as well, because if he made a lot of muskets that would be important.
“I’ve heard that you are responsible for the number of muskets in use around here.” Dealer raised a hand as Harold opened his mouth to object. “Not building them, repairing them, because up to now nobody in this part of the city had tried. They are slow to reload, short ranged, and nobody understood their shock value so most people considered them useless.There aren’t a huge number in use, just a few here and there, but now the gangs on the receiving end are searching for them. Then there are maces, as I’ve just seen, and Rambos. You appear to have some history buffs among your people.”
“I do, and they have been very helpful.”
“Lucky man, or is it luck? I have already been told you have more than your share of resourceful people.” Dealer still wore that little smile. “Some of your neighbours get a little annoyed when the subject comes up.”
“It’s not luck. They could have their own experts.” Harold waved towards the rest of Orchard Close.”It’s called freedom. People get very excited and surprisingly productive when they get a taste.” Harold had started getting a bit fed up of the joke now.
Dealer definitely looked intrigued at that. “I can imagine. If youwon’t relieve your people oftheir ornaments, or your girlfriend of her jewellery, I will make you an offer for Rambos and maces. What are they made of?”
“My friends don’t have jewellery or valuable ornaments, or they would probably volunteer them. They would probably give me the shirts off their backs to make this place safer. My metals person uses very good steel in the knives, and very solid iron in the maces.” Harold gave Dealer a little smile and some payback. “As someone has already told you.”
“True, but better than that they are also distinctive and nasty looking. I travel all over the city. A long way from here both of those items will make me a substantial profit. An even bigger profit if the quality is as good as I am told. Not as much as firearms repairs, thosewill buy you more than any steel weapon.” Dealer rubbed his forefinger and thumb together. “Then there are always coupons of course.”
“I’m not sure how we manage a deal on firearms, because usually the price depends on what I need to do? As for the Rambos, our supply of steel is limited but we can spare a few.” Harold had started wondering how a bloke with powder and propellant could drive around the city openly dealing with the gangs.
“If you repair a personal weapon, that will get us started. I’ll collect the weapon and pay next time. Please don’t be tempted since all my people are similarly armed.” This time Dealer’s smile had some steel in it.
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
“It’s an automatic weapon. Not Army because they are very fussy about that, and not an AK for the same reason.” Dealer still had a smile but seemedmore watchful now, looking for the flash of avarice no doubt.
Harold thought that honesty would be the best policy. “I don’t want one. I’ll fix yours if I can, but we are too close to the Army for any automatic weapon to go off. I won’t even test fire it except on single shot.” Harold glanced up towards the bypass and remembered the not too subtle hints Sarge had dropped. “My personal bet is that there’s artillery on call for little incidents like that, or possibly a helicopter with napalm.”
Dealer’s smile widened a little. “Good guess. Well in that case I might have some very lucrative business for you. Quite a few nutcases out there have a favourite toy that doesn’t actually work. It’s difficult to find a repairer who won’t try to steal automatics.”
Harold stared, because that caught him out. “That doesn’t sound like a safe idea. You are giving nutters automatic weapons?”
&nbs
p; Dealer laughed, without a hint of that sly undercurrent. “It’s the best way to get them killed, preferablyafter selling them a lot of expensive ammunition. The worst of them won’t be able to resist running around blazing away. They think a man with an AK is bullet proof.” Dealer sobered, looking at Harold without any smile at all. “But they aren’t, are they?”
Harold smirked, fairly sure Dealer already knew Soldier Boy’s reputation. “No. Nobody is bulletproof. My neighbours understand that, which keeps me and mine safe.”
“Nor is your tank or your battle trailer, I understand, even if they come closer than many.” This time Dealer had just a little question in his voice and look.
“An Army bullet would go straight through the plate.Someone made a better version that might have stopped even them, using old target plates from a range.” Harold let his own little smile come, a totally genuine one. “They didn’t do much to stop the Eurofighter that came calling.”
“I heard. Just to stop any unpleasantness, I should tell you that your tank may not be bulletproof but my cars are. The real deal, pre-Crash,just in case someone is ambitious. I tell them all so there’s no excuse if they scratch the paintwork.” Dealer had answered Harold’s unasked question, sort of.
“Cripes! How come none of them have swamped you for the cars alone?” Harold couldn’t get his head round it. A real armoured vehicle should be irresistible.
“Automatic weapons in bulletproof cars is a deadly combination, because nobody has any real anti-tank weapons any more. We’ve had a couple of gangs try. They bounced, messily, and one now has trouble finding ammunition.The other one didn’t have enough men left to survive their neighbours.” Dealer straightened, becoming much more formal and business-like. “It’s been fun, but now I should get back to earning a crust. I don’t get to visit a new gang leader very often these days, andeven then they have usually just inherited from the deceased. This is my first new territory in almosttwo years.”
“How does the actual trading work?”