“I’m only a cadet, I know, but I’m lighter than most of the rest of you, and shorter. I reckon I’m the best bet.”
Jack claps a hand on my back and speaks up.
“I’ll vouch for him, Ma’am. He’s a good kid.”
The woman nods.
“OK, Jack, if you think he can handle it. Get up there and get them out. There’ll be career progression in it for you, young man, if you do. Right, people, let’s go!”
Jack grips my arm tightly for a second.
“Good luck, cadet,” he says. “Stay careful.” Then he walks away without a backwards glance.
The officers file busily out of the doors. The woman takes me to an office room, and indicates upward, to an entrance leading up into the tunnels.
“The young girl escaped up there. Silvio Sabatini’s gun’s missing; we’re assuming she took it up there with her, so that’s two weapons at least they’ve managed to get hold of. Four doors along to the right is where the Cat escaped from.”
She looks at me again, and again it’s like she can see right through me. It’s so hard to meet her eyes. I fight the urge not to turn tail and run.
“You got a gun?”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
“OK. Take this too.” She hands me an oval object. It looks a bit like a sports drink bottle, but it’s really heavy. I’ve got no idea what it is. “I don’t need to tell you how dangerous these grenades are. You wouldn’t normally get your hands on one of these unless you’d been in the riot police for a minimum of five years, but we’ve got to use all the tools we have at our disposal. You know what to do, right?”
I nod, but then ask: “Sorry, ma’am, can you go through it once, just to remind me?”
She tuts crossly.
“This isn’t a training seminar. Every second we don’t catch them, they’re a step closer to escape. This is embarrassing for us, all these officers to catch three flaming kids.” I nod again.
She sighs.
“If you need to detonate, pull the pin, aim and throw. You’ll have about two seconds to get as far in the other direction as you can. It’s powerful enough to kill on impact, but there’s a risk to any of our guys in the vicinity, especially if they’re stationed just below, so give us some notice, if you can. OK. You ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“Right. Get up there and, for God’s sake, finish the job.” She shakes my hand, her grip strong. “Good luck.”
She holds the ladder while I climb up. It’s really dark up there and the dust clogs itch my throat. I shine my torch down the dim passageway. I can’t see anyone. I pull myself up, and I’m off.
HOSHIKO
For a while we make slow but steady progress but, all too soon, there’s a different sound: a clunking noise far back from the right, and a slither of light illuminates Greta’s face.
“They’re up here,” she gasps. “They’re coming. What shall we do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hoshiko…”
She points upward. There are scaffold poles running horizontally just above our heads and there’s about a foot’s gap between them and the ceiling. “Can you make it up there?”
I see what she’s thinking. Maybe we can hide above while whoever it is moves along obliviously below us.
My feet are beyond painful now. I’m glad I can’t see them; they must be bleeding like crazy. As for all that dust getting into the open wounds – I don’t need Amina to tell me that’s not a good thing.
“’Course I can.” The confident tone I adopt is for her benefit entirely. “I’m the Cat, aren’t I?”
We only have a few seconds; the beam of light has nearly reached us. Simultaneously and silently, we pull ourselves up by the poles, coiling ourselves around them like snakes.
Greta’s small enough to get her whole body up there, and she concertinas herself into the gap between the pole and the ceiling, but I just won’t fit.
All I can do is stay here, wrapped around the pole as tightly as I can, holding myself up off the ground. My arms ache and I can already feel the strain in my stomach muscles, but it’s nothing more exerting than I do every day in the show, I tell myself.
Holding my breath as the light gets closer, I lift my legs up high, squeezing them round the pole, although I can see already that this isn’t going to work.
My legs are too long. I’m too big.
The space below is less than a couple of metres. Unless the guy’s tiny, he’s bound to knock into me on his way past. What do I do?
I’ll have to shoot him.
He’s nearly reached us now.
I can see the top of his helmet as he moves along just below and to the left: police.
I cling on to the thought; if I do have to hurt him, that’ll help. Since when have the police ever done anything for the Dregs, except destroy and torture us? It’s about time one of them got what he deserves.
After that, everything happens really quickly. He passes Greta first, she’s invisible as he passes. Then, it’s me.
I push my legs up hard into the pipe, gritting my teeth with the effort it takes not to let them lower by even a millimetre. At first, I think I might just do it, but then the top of his helmet catches on one of my thighs and he stops.
I can’t shoot him without letting go of the pole. There’s nothing for it but to drop, right on top of him.
There’s no time to think, no time to register his face. As I fall, I crack my gun down on to his upturned face and he tumbles to the ground beneath me.
We lay there, sprawled, just for an instant, before my stupid, idiotic brain finally begins to register what my eyes saw seconds ago. This isn’t some bad guy police officer I’ve assaulted: it’s Ben.
BEN
Ever heard the saying you won’t know what’s hit you? Well, that’s quite literally how it is. One minute, I’m making my way along the crawl space. The next, something drops down on me, knocking me to the floor and taking a swing at my face on the way for good measure.
I lay there, dazed, for a moment, trying to puzzle out what’s going on. My jaw is throbbing like mad, and there’s something wet in my mouth. I think it’s blood.
It’s only when I hear her voice, a voice I’d recognize anywhere, that I realize that this thing on top of me, pinning me down: it’s Hoshiko.
“Ben? Ben? Oh my God, oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She’s shining a torch right into my face.
I’m blinded by the light, lying injured in the dust, battered and bleeding. I’m on the run from the police and I’ve just been assaulted but I think I’d like to stay here like this for ever.
Half an hour ago I didn’t even know if she was alive or dead and now she’s here, and she’s got her arms around me, covering me in kisses.
“Your mouth, it’s bleeding. Oh my God. I was going to shoot you!”
“It’s OK.” My voice sounds funny through my split lip, which is already starting to swell. “I’m fine.”
She pulls away from me for a second and shines the torch upward.
“Greta.” There’s a big grin on her face. “It’s Ben!”
A tiny figure drops down next to us and looks at me, her head cocked to one side as she appraises me, curiously.
“Good to meet you, Greta.” I hold out a hand, and she steps forward, shaking it formally before turning to Hoshiko.
“You never said he was a policeman!”
Hoshiko snorts. “D’you think I’d have gone anywhere near him if he was? He’s not, he’s just dressed up as one.”
She prises herself off me then laughs, burying her head in my arms again. “I’ve got no idea why though. Man, we’ve got some catching up to do!”
HOSHIKO
Of course, there isn’t time to find out how and why he’s suddenly appeared up here with hardly any hair, wearing a policeman’s uniform, only a couple of panicked seconds in which we establish that there are over fifty officers waiting for us to come out, and that he’s supposed to be f
inding us and doing one of two things – either shooting us on sight, or hurling a grenade at us at point-blank range.
“OK, here’s what I think we should do.” Ben talks quietly; there must be people inches below us. “They’re expecting you to be heading away from the front of the building.” I nod: that’s pretty much what we were doing, getting as far away from Silvio’s office as possible. “So, there are already a lot more police officers stationed to our left than our right. I reckon we need to head back that way, as quietly as we can. I’ve got a radio; maybe I can throw them off our scent for a bit.”
We’ve come all this way for nothing.
“What do we do when we get as far as we can?” Greta waits for him to tell her, but he just looks at me helplessly.
“Let’s stick to this part of the plan for now,” I try to sound buoyant. “We don’t want to overcomplicate things. The main thing is that we’re all together.”
“But…” Our eyes meet and she stops and nods bravely. “OK, let’s go.”
Ben takes his radio from his belt.
“I need you both to be really, really quiet now.” He holds it up to his mouth and whispers into it.
“This is unit twelve. I can see them up ahead. Right to the far end of the building, heading away from the front.”
The reply is immediate.
“What exactly can you see?”
“There’s a light up ahead, and footprints in the dust. They’re definitely heading that way.”
“OK. Keep going. We’ll reposition all the men up there. Don’t let them escape.”
“I won’t.” Lowering the radio, he turns to me. “Hope he believed me. Let’s go.”
He turns off his torch; the blackness around us is instant and entire. I reach for his hand.
“Ben? I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
His breath is warm on my cheek as he moves forward. I feel his lip, tentatively, with my fingertips. It’s puffy and swollen. I kiss his cheek softly. He moves his neck and his lips brush my ear, making all the little hairs on my neck and arms stand on end.
“Guys!” Greta’s voice is already moving away. “Are we going, or what?”
I pull away from him, reluctantly.
“We’re going,” he answers, his voice cracking.
We move off, together, a team.
BEN
We edge slowly back down the corridor.
Greta flits along like a tiny ghost and has to keep waiting for Hoshi and me to catch up. I’m miles too big for this restricted space; my legs are stiff and my neck’s aching like mad where I can’t raise my head.
Hoshi’s moving even more slowly than I am and I keep bumping into her. At first, I think she’s waiting for me but, when I touch her face, there’s sweat pouring off of it. She’s struggling. Really struggling.
“Are you OK?”
She’s breathing in short, laboured bursts. “I’m fine. Just – need – to – keep – going.”
And so we do.
My radio crackles again. “Unit twelve. Any sign?”
I try to buy us a bit more time.
“They’re up ahead. I think they’ve stopped. Another few feet and I’ll able to reach them. I’m turning off this unit now. Too noisy.”
I switch it off, and we keep on moving.
I look at her again; she can’t go on much longer. At least if we’re down there she can lean on me, maybe I can even carry her.
“We’ve gone far enough,” I say. “Next time we come to an opening I think we should try and get down.”
Greta looks past me, back at Hoshi.
“I think so too. Hoshi?”
She doesn’t say anything, just nods, her brow furrowed, as if every tiny movement takes concentration.
It’s not long before we reach the next hatch. As quietly as I can, I prise it away while the two girls crouch back in the shadows. I ease it back a fraction and peer through the crack into the room below.
My empty stomach heaves. I slam the hatch back down, quickly.
HOSHIKO
I don’t know what he sees in that room, but he jumps back from the hatch as if he’s on a spring.
His face, when he turns to me is deathly pale, and his eyes are hollow and wide.
“Not that room,” he mutters. “Let’s keep going a bit longer.”
He’s different after that, as if whatever he’s seen has reduced him somehow. He moves less decisively and he keeps looking back at us both and then looking away.
I don’t ask him any questions about it. He’s obviously trying to come to terms with whatever he saw, and by the look on his face, it’s definitely not something I want him talking about in front of Greta.
We reach a sort of crossroads – the tunnel stops up ahead, but branches off to the left and the right.
Ben flicks the torch on; the light illuminates two more narrow passageways. Greta and I try to work out where we are.
“We must still be in the middle tunnel, but right at the end,” Greta begins. “Which means there’s a training room below us … and the main entrance to the building. That’s no good. It’s too open. If we go that way,” she points left, “we reach the kitchens. If we go right, we’ll hit…”
She turns to me and we both speak at the same time.
“The arena!”
BEN
“So what do we do?” I ask them. I can’t work out if reaching the arena is a good thing or not.
Greta’s tone when she answers is slow and clear, as if I’m daft. “We’ve got to head to the arena.”
“Why?”
Hoshiko answers for her; they’re both working this out a lot quicker than I am.
“You said they’ve shut the Cirque tonight, right?” I nod. “OK. So, one: it’s going to be dark in there. Two: no one’s using it – got to be good news for us. Three: that’s our arena! We know every inch of it: every fire exit, every backstage corridor. The police don’t. If nothing else, we might be able to hide out for a bit.”
It seems obvious now she’s spelt it out. I put out the torch, and we move down the narrow passage.
I try not to think about what was in that room, but the image won’t go away.
Directly underneath me, an open bin of bodies, with limbs missing. A head, tossed in on the top of a huge pile of bone and sinew and visceral matter. A head with a bullet through it, the head of a boy about my age – the head I cradled in my arms just yesterday.
Anatol: the poor, injured boy they set alight and fired out of a cannon.
What’s going to happen to him? I close my eyes, a wave of nausea hitting.
Grateful for something else to focus on, I move on down the corridor. We quickly reach an opening. It widens above us, and I rotate my stiff neck around gratefully. There’s a metal ladder, rising up and disappearing into what looks like another tunnel.
Wordlessly, we climb up, and then I turn the torch back on. We’re in a huge, expansive attic-type room. There are rails full of clothes up here and boxes everywhere.
“This is it,” Hoshiko whispers. She looks at me and her eyes glow.
HOSHIKO
It’s spooky up here, amongst the racks and racks of costumes, waiting silently to be brought to life. The ghost of every part I’ve ever played is here, watching, waiting.
So many memories. Looking at each costume, I’m instantly transported back to when I wore it. My performance…The roars of the crowd… I’m betrayed again by that same sense of belonging I get on the wire. There’s something about the lights, the crowds, the action that’s made me feel most alive there, teetering on the brink of death every night.
Until now, I reprimand myself. This circus is my prison. It’s torn me away from my family. It’s taken my beautiful Amina away from me. I feel Ben next to me, and Greta the other side. I reach for their hands and we stand there in a little circle.
These two people with me here, they’re all that matters now. The only things I care about.
It
must put us at an advantage, knowing this place so well. We’ve spent loads of time up here, Amina and I, and Greta too, during rehearsals. Sometimes, I have to wait up here and then drop down on the trapeze, to shock and thrill the crowds below. Other times, I’m pulled up here to make it look as if I’ve vanished mid-act, or to make costume or prop changes during the show.
Ben has turned his radio back on and it crackles into life again. “Unit twelve? Are you there? We’re all waiting.”
He flicks his torch on and turns to me without responding to the urgent voice.
“We haven’t got much time.”
The radio starts again.
“Unit twelve? Unit twelve? Right, that’s it. Something’s up. Send another man up. Send another ten men up. Let’s flush those rats out, once and for all: this has gone on long enough.”
Ben puts the torch on the floor. It sends a low beam through the attic and his face looks haunted in the dim light. He looks broken, afraid; he looks like I feel.
He sighs, heavily. “I think we’re about to be rumbled. Any bright ideas?”
BEN
There’s a few seconds’ pause, while we all rack our brains desperately. There’s nothing for it though; we’re going to have to drop down into that arena and hope for the best.
“I have an idea!” Greta squeals, excitedly. “They know what we’re wearing. Let’s get changed, Hoshiko!”
It’s not a miraculous solution by any means, but it certainly won’t do us any harm if we aren’t all so instantly recognizable. It might throw someone off our scent, even if it’s only for a moment or two.
“Well done, Greta,” I praise her. “That’s a great idea, but you’re going to have to do it really, really quickly. Is there anything I can put on?”
They both stare at me, look at each other and burst into laughter.
“Don’t worry; I’m not into women’s clothes. But they’re going to work out I’m lying any minute now. Then they’ll be after me too – they’ll be looking for the uniform.”
The pair of them collapse against each other, shaking with silent laughter. Hoshiko actually has real tears running down her face. I really don’t see what’s so funny. They’re wasting vital seconds we don’t have.
Show Stopper Page 28