HOSHIKO
The car slows to a halt outside a large, newish-looking building, and Laura gets out. I pull my door handle, but it’s locked, and I have to wait for her to come round and let me out. Kadir and his men are marching on ahead of us.
The place has the echoed hush of an empty building. Laura flicks the lights on and leads me through the corridors. She stops outside a room with a large star on the door. When she rests her hand on the handle she turns to me with a smile.
“See that star? It means VIP. This is where the most important guests prepare. You’re no exception.”
I look away and roll my eyes. Am I supposed to be impressed?
She opens the door and ushers me into the dressing room.
The light in here is subdued and cosy and the soft red carpet feels luxurious beneath my feet. There’s an elaborate mirror taking up one wall with a padded chair in front of it, and a dressing table crammed with beauty products.
It reminds me of the Cirque, of my own dressing area. It’s a lot nicer, of course: it’s meant for the Pure elite, not just a circus Dreg like me, but it has the same smell to it – the smell of make-up and hairspray. My body gives a little shiver of excitement, betraying me, betraying Greta.
Laura opens up an internal door, revealing a toilet and a huge walk-in shower.
“There are towels here,” she smiles, “and shower cream and body lotion. Take your time. We’ve got the whole day.”
She might have the whole day but I need to do this as quickly as I can. I need to save Greta. I glower at her angrily but her fixed smile meets mine.
What would she say if she knew Kadir had kidnapped Greta? I think about telling her but I really can’t afford to anger Kadir right now.
“One more thing,” Laura says. “We’ve only got one chance to get this right. We need to knock Vivian Baines off her pedestal. We need to make such an impact, cause such a stir, that everyone will be talking about you, not her. The appeal you hold for most people is that they recognize you, and that you’re beautiful and glamorous. You’re a circus star, or you were, not so long ago. We want you to make an impact, and we think you’d do that more if you looked the part. Don’t look so worried!” she laughs. “I’ve got a gift for you.” She opens the door of a large cupboard and gestures to the wall.
There’s a costume hanging up. It’s my black cat outfit from before. My trademark, the costume that earned me my nickname, the costume I always perform at my best in. I step towards it. The tiny sparkles in the ebony fabric catch the light and wink brightly at me.
“How did you get this?” I ask, as I caress the cool material.
She grins. “It’s complicated. We knew someone, who knew someone, who knew someone. Are you OK to wear it?”
I nod. “I guess so. If you think it’ll help.”
I get a funny feeling when I look at it. I feel like I’m about to go out into the arena, like I’m about to perform.
I guess I am, in a way.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Laura says. “Take as long as you need.”
When she’s gone, I stare about me.
The toilet is clean and white with soft toilet tissue, as much as I like, next to it.
I’ve never had a shower to myself. I step into the large cubicle and turn the dial until water gushes out of two big nozzles on the walls. I spring back; it’s cold. Not for long though; it warms up quickly. Running warm water. I step under it. The steam mists around me and the water jets down over my head. I put my head back and let it stream over me. It’s lovely. My whole body tingles.
There’s a shower gel dispenser. I squirt some on to my hands and soap myself with the frothy lather.
The water runs off my body, brown and murky.
I feel like I could stay under here for ever.
This is no good, I berate myself. Every second that I’m standing under here, pampering myself, is another second that Greta’s being held somewhere. I turn the shower off, drying my hair roughly with a soft, fluffy towel.
I sit down at the little dressing table and stare at myself. I can’t remember the last time I saw my face in a mirror. The months on the run have made me look gaunt. At least in the Cirque, we were given semi-regular meals. My cheekbones jut out now, where they didn’t before. I don’t look healthy and my eyes betray the panic I’m feeling inside. Panic for Greta, panic for Ben.
Still, if I’m going to do this, I might as well do it right.
I wonder where my make-up artist, Minnie, is. I wonder what she’s doing, right now. Picking up the make-up brush, I begin to turn myself back into a showstopper.
BEN
“Come on!” Sabatini demands, impatiently. “Sit down and get playing! It’ll be no fun on my own!”
“Are you mad?” I ask, which has to be the most stupid question anyone’s asked, ever.
“I knew it!” He sighs, theatrically. “I really do think I know you better than I know anyone! I knew you’d refuse! And I thought to myself: That’s fine, let him refuse, let him just sit back and soak it all up. Tonight, he’ll be a real part of the show. Let him enjoy this final day as a bystander.” He smiles at me. “You’re a teenage boy, after all – that’s exactly our target market.”
I look towards the door. It’s locked. I look back at Silvio. For once, he’s not holding his cane. One hand is on the joystick, the other lingering over a gun attached to a holster. “OK.” He grins. “Let the fun commence!
“Call it paranoia, but I don’t like sitting with my back to such a violent and savage criminal as yourself, Baines. I’ve learnt the hard way to keep you where I can see you at all times.”
He points to the middle of the pit of jagged metal in front of him. “Get into the centre, will you?”
“No.” I glare at him.
He sighs again. “Your heroic protests really are getting dull. You have no power here, Benedict, surely you’ve realized that by now, no bargaining chip whatsoever. If you don’t do what I ask, I’ll shoot you. I’ll shoot him first, and then I’ll shoot you.”
He rises up from his chair, takes the gun and waves it nonchalantly up at Ezekiel, crouched nervously in the middle of the web.
“You won’t shoot Ezekiel, not before the show.”
I take a step towards him.
“Oh, Benedict. I know you so well, and yet you don’t know me at all! Of course I will! There are loads of kids who could take the place of Fly-Boy up there. True, they may not be as adept as him quite yet, but the Pures won’t mind if the flies don’t stand a fighting chance! Most of them like as high a death rate as possible, especially lads your age. And as for you, there’s nothing I’d like more than to give you a matching wound on your other leg! Perhaps I could stick you up there instead of him; after all, your mother has bequeathed you to me. No! I’ll stick to Plan A for you – it’s just too good not to!”
He aims the gun up towards Ezekiel.
“I’m running out of patience…”
What can I do? He’s right. He holds all the cards, and a loaded gun.
I edge my way through the maze of serrated blades. They’re packed in so densely that there’s only just enough room to squeeze between them and they look even sharper and more deadly close up. Maybe, if Ezekiel falls, I’ll be able to catch him before he hits any of them.
“I’ve had this attraction in mind for the longest time,” Silvio calls over to me. “For ages now, I’ve been trying to think of ways we could make the Cirque more interactive, ways the Pures could really feel a part of things. My original vision for it was as an act for Hoshiko and Greta. When Hoshiko’s caught, I’m hoping I can persuade your mother to let me have her for a while before she’s executed. It really would be such a pull if we could get her in here, such a crowd-pleaser!”
I try to resist the power of his words; try to keep the barriers I’ve built against him in place, but I just can’t do it. Not when he’s so casually talking about using Hoshi like that. Not when he’s talking about her death. I squeeze
my hands together. I’d like to ring them around his white little neck. I’d like to snap him in half.
He sits back down and starts moving the spider. It propels its way forward, scuttling at an alarming pace on its eight mechanized legs towards Ezekiel.
All I can see of the little boy from below are his hands and feet, scrambling away as the spider advances.
Silvio leaps up from his chair and starts another spider up, cutting Ezekiel off from the path he was running down. Ezekiel turns around, darting back the other way.
Silvio moves to a third chair, intercepting Ezekiel with another spider, then jumps up and runs to work a fourth one, calling across to me. “Just imagine how frantic and fast-paced it’ll be with twelve on the go at once! A battle of wits, a battle of egos! Who will be the first to catch him? Who will be the first to knock him down? And he’s good, isn’t he? A natural up there, just like I always said he’d be. Who knew your girlfriend would be so easily replaceable! Don’t know why I didn’t have her killed off years ago! Oh my!” He dashes across to another chair and moves the spider across the web, then sprints to a sixth one. “I just cannot wait for tonight!”
HOSHIKO
I study myself critically in the mirror. I don’t look like me. The make-up on my face seems garish after so long without wearing any. I smear the red lipstick away.
When I step into the studio, though, Laura gasps and gives a little round of applause.
“Oh, Hoshiko! You look simply stunning!”
There’s a woman standing with her who I haven’t seen before. She’s wearing a short, tight-fitting dress and her foundation is slapped on so thickly that her face looks orange. She’s smiling at me with teeth of brilliant white.
Kadir and his men are all here too, staring at me. I don’t like the looks on their faces, not at all. They’re the same looks the men watching the shows used to wear when Silvio made me put on some skimpy outfit or other and twirl on the rope over their heads.
I cross my arms together, glaring at them.
“I’m not saying anything while they’re in the room.”
Kadir shrugs his shoulders.
“Fine,” he says. “Really not bothered as long as you get it done.”
He and his men turn and leave, casting smirking looks over their shoulders as they go.
“Hoshiko” – Laura smiles brightly – “may I introduce you to Alison Devine?”
The woman steps forward, her smile growing even wider.
“I don’t suppose either of us need any introduction,” she simpers. “We’re equally recognizable, I’d say.”
I stare at her. I’ve never seen her before in my life. There’s an awkward silence for a moment or two.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t…”
“Hoshi, Alison is the presenter of the national breakfast show. One of the biggest stars in the country.” Laura smiles apologetically at the woman. “Hoshiko went straight from being incarcerated in the circus to a life on the run – it’s natural that she wouldn’t be as aware of famous faces as the rest of us, even household celebrities such as yourself. The Pures we’re trying to win over certainly know who you are, though, and that’s what counts. I can’t tell you how delighted I am that you’ve agreed to do this.”
“I thought you’d be asking me questions,” I say to Laura. “I thought that was the whole point.”
Laura grimaces. “It’s not quite that simple, I’m afraid. If I’m seen publically consorting with a wanted criminal, there could be all sorts of recriminations. I’d be blatantly flouting the law again and I don’t think I’d get away with it this time. I’d have to go into hiding, and, what would be even worse, Vivian Baines could use it stop me running for office. We can’t afford to provide her with the opportunity.”
“But if you’re going to use it as part of your election campaign, surely it will be obvious to everyone that you’re behind it all?”
Laura nods and grins. “It will. Baines will know it, the country will know it, everyone will know it. No one will be able to prove it though, and that’s the important thing.” She laughs. “It will drive Baines crazy!”
“What about you?” I say to Alison Devine. “Aren’t you scared you’ll get into trouble?”
She sighs, dramatically. “This thing is bigger than even me. We all have to make sacrifices for the cause. I’ll go into hiding immediately after the interview, lay low until after the election. Laura will win, I’m sure of it. You’ll be granted a pardon and we’ll both affirm our places as national heroes.” She flounces her hair. “It’s a gamble, but it’s one worth taking.”
She indicates towards two chairs which have been placed in the centre of the room, then shepherds me over to them and pushes me gently down into one. “The camera’s all set up. We can do the zooming in and close-ups after the filming, so all we need to do is sit down here and have a chat about the Cirque.
“Remember, our objective is to win the audience over to our cause. Graphic, explicit details are good – the gorier the better – but you need to charm them too; they need to identify with you. People love a good romance, so might exploit that angle. And emotional displays always go down well.” She coughs, as if she’s embarrassed. “If you feel the urge to shed a few tears, don’t hold back.”
I can feel my heart pounding.
Greta’s trapped somewhere, frightened out of her mind or worse, while I’ve been putting on a leotard and plastering make-up on my face. And Ben. Ben’s in the circus. With Silvio. Silvio must hate Ben and Greta and me more than anyone. We blew up his arena. We nearly killed him. What’s he going to do to Ben? And what about the Brotherhood? They’re attacking the Cirque. When? And how? They don’t want to harm any Dregs, Felix said, but Ben’s not a Dreg, he’s a Pure, or he was until a few months ago. The Brotherhood hate all Pures. They want to kill as many Pures as they can.
I have to speak to Felix. I have to find out what they’re planning. I have to find out when.
But first I need to make this video. I need to get Greta released and then work out how to save Ben, and I need to do it as quickly as I can.
“Ooh, I nearly forgot! Hold on a minute…” Laura leaves the room and comes back with Bojo. “He might not be able to say a lot, but he’s a good visual prop!” She laughs. When I look at Alison’s grinning face, I can’t help feeling like I’m some performing animal too, being put on display to serve the purposes of others. I haven’t felt that way for a long time now. I haven’t felt that way since I was in the Cirque.
Alison takes a lipstick from her bag and reapplies it quickly. Then she casts a final critical eye over me. Her brow furrows and she pulls her whole make-up bag out.
“Ready?” she asks me, after a couple of minutes of prodding at my face with her brushes and products.
“Ready,” I answer.
“Right.” She leans forward and presses a button on the camera.
She turns to me and then turns to the camera, her smile even wider than before. “Good morning, England! For months now, you’ve all wanted to know one thing. You’ve all been asking me the same question: who will I be voting for next week? Where do my allegiances lie? I’ve kept quiet, until now. Now, the time has come for me to tell you the answer. There is one candidate in this historic election who stands for justice. There is one candidate who stands for change, who stands for equality. There is one candidate who stands for what is right. Let it be known, I am standing firmly on the side of Laura Minton. I’m brave enough to back her, are you?
“Not sure? Let me try to persuade you. Today, I have a worldwide exclusive for you. No, your eyes do not deceive you! She’s here, before your very eyes! The Cat! Hoshiko, the former circus star! Some say she’s a criminal, I say she’s a hero, and she’s right here next to me, ready to tell the world her story!”
She turns to me, her brow etched with concern, her expression oozing sympathy.
“Hoshiko, can you tell me first about Benedict Baines? When did you meet? Was it lo
ve at first sight?”
I feel my chest fluttering in panic and my fingers tingling with anger. What’s this got to do with it? What’s this got to do with anyone except me and Ben?
“I’m not going to talk about Ben.” I say, abruptly. “That wasn’t what I agreed to. I’m not going to talk about anything except the Cirque.”
Her smile freezes. “OK,” she says tentatively. “Tell me, what do you think it was that made Benedict feel he wanted to storm the Cirque like that? Was it the sense of injustice he felt when he saw how the Dreg performers were treated? Or was it more personal; was it just a case of Pure boy meets Dreg girl, Pure boy falls for Dreg girl, Pure boy rescues Dreg girl?”
This is useless. She wants me to tell them all a love story, and this is about so much more than that.
I move away from her and push my chair forward so that I block her out of the camera shot. I stare into the lens.
“Let me tell you about life in the circus,” I say.
And then I take a deep breath and I begin to talk.
BEN
After ten long minutes, a buzzer sounds and the spider Silvio’s currently chasing Ezekiel with comes to an abrupt stop.
“Damn! Better luck next time!” he cries. “Get down and get changed!” Ezekiel crawls quickly to the centre of the web and pulls himself back up into the space above.
Silvio peers at me. “Would you believe it, Baines, I’d forgotten you were down there? I was so caught up with the desire to catch the boy! I came pretty close a few times too, did you see? It’s so irritating! So irritating and so addictive! That’s what we’re aiming for; people getting so close to knocking him down that they just have to keep on going. Just one more go, they’ll tell themselves, just one more try. Before you know it, they’re a few hundred pounds down! Oh yes, this is going to be an absolute gold mine, I can just feel it!”
He nestles down in the big black chair he’s sitting in and rests his hands over his stomach.
It feels wrong, keeping quiet after what I’ve just witnessed. I step up to him and stare into his strange, colourless face.
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