by S. G Mark
“Yeah,” he said, “But sometimes I’m still the kid halfway up that mountain, taking the ring to Mordor.”
In quiet of the glen, an oystercatcher cawed, dipping its wing on the thermals as it swooped over the ploughed fields. All other sounds were mute by comparison. The guards patrolled in silence. The tractor groaned peacefully in the distance. It was just the two of them, the rushing breeze, the oystercatcher and the utter solitude of the countryside.
The thought constantly crossed his mind that this might be the last occasion he saw headquarters or his homeland, but there was something special this time that made him worry that this time his fears may come true. The plan was risky at best and required a huge amount of coordination despite being top secret. Though there was every chance that it could fail, they couldn’t abandon it. Alex and Jack had agreed to keep the notion of The Man a secret from the rest of the members and Claudia had already demanded that her identity be shielded. United, the three of them agreed that the fewer people who were aware of this man, the better chance they stood to understand him.
It had to be Jack though, to make the move to London.
“I can do it,” Alex had whispered, “I’ll have more of a chance.”
“No,” Jack had said fiercely, “My face warrants more persuasion. I can get to this man’s friends, his associates.”
“But if you’re caught -”
“And if you are? We both know you’re better at running this than I am,” Jack had admitted, “I’m good, Alex. I’m fucking good. But I’m not you.”
Their conversation echoed in his head. Though he knew he’d made the right decision, it was still difficult to swallow.
“These are lovely,” Claudia said, stroking her hands through the tulips.
“One for every dead comrade,” Jack said, not even turning to look at her, “Though I think we’ve reduced it now to just one for every ten.”
Claudia withdrew her hand at once, as if the flowers themselves were extensions of the corpses they represented.
“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t realise.”
“No need to apologise,” he said, “They are here to be admired. And remembered.”
“Are you remembering anyone in particular?”
He shook his head, “Not this time.”
“I know after all he did, it feels wrong,” she said, “But I’ve been thinking a lot about David recently. I still spent over a decade of my life with him. In a strange way, he was my best friend, and to think of him dead still feels so strange after all these years.”
“Do you think he knew what pain he was causing?” Jack asked.
Claudia pursed her lips together in thought, “I wish I could say he’d been ignorant and maybe he was at first. I just can’t quite pretend that he was that deluded.”
“And Cameron? Can you say the same as him?”
“He was always much more ruthless. We all thought he would succeed as party leader before David won. I wasn’t surprised when he eventually got what he wanted.”
“I’m going to need everything you’ve got on Cameron over the next few days,” Jack said, “Even the slightest detail might be important.”
“You’re going to track him down, aren’t you?” Claudia asked, “Is that what you’ve been planning with that man, Alex?”
Jack looked solemnly at her. The plan was secret, no one could know.
“Alright, you can’t tell me,” she said, “But if you are, then you better be careful. That man… frightens me.”
Jack rose to his feet and dusted his palms. The balmy air had softened them. There was so much work to be done and part of the reason Jack was out here enjoying the sunshine was that he didn’t want the work to end; for when it ended, he would have to leave and he would be going somewhere he might not return from. This was a whole new game. The players had all changed. They weren’t inept politicians with a jaded view on how society should be, or simply struggling under tough circumstances outwith their control. Whatever terrible danger he had faced over the past three years, it had just been replaced with something even more menacing and seemingly impenetrable.
As he walked back, along, to the farmhouse he felt exactly as he had done when he had first submitted to The Resistance. He was fighting an enemy that he was aware of, but had no clue who they really were. Over his journey to this spot on the muddy yard, he had learned about them, had come to know their tactics, their drive; only to be replaced by another enemy entirely, one who was possibly an enemy to all.
In the middle of the yard he stopped and stared. Chickens scurried across his line of sight, as if somehow aware of the tension building. A few labourers were piling slate in the corner and there were noises originating from one of the barns. Probably cows becoming weary of their long absence from the fields as they were treated for diseases. Joseph emerged from one of the barns and tipped his cap to Jack, wordless solidarity. In that moment Jack felt a surge of gratitude towards this simple man and his quiet way of life.
Without this lowly farmer, The Resistance would have nothing. They might have crumbled long before Jack had joined them, maybe even before Alex was dragged into the dark world they now inhabited. With the farm life swarming around him, carrying on without drive or threat, Jack began to appreciate the little sacrifices and generosity of one man’s actions. And there it was, again. One man.
One man and his army. One man and his ideas. One man and his determination, his courage, his strength. Every man has his weakness, Jack thought. Joseph’s was his son. Jack and Alex’s were the same: Eliza. One man and his weakness, Jack just had to figure out who that was for this menace.
Down in the basement, Jack knocked gently on Alex’s door before entering; finding him bent over some sketches they’d made earlier that day.
“You clear your head?” he asked, not raising his head up.
“As much as it can be,” Jack said, closing the door and sitting in the chair by his desk. “It feels like everything has changed, doesn’t it?”
Alex froze and looked up, a grave expression embedded on his face, “Yes, it does.”
Though he found no comfort in confirmation, he did find some solace that his burden was shared.
“What if this is just the tip of the iceberg? Jack asked, “What if I go down there and I find out he’s just a pawn for someone else, another level of government we didn’t know existed?”
At this point, Alex smiled, “We don’t deal in stories, Jack. We deal in facts. And all we know right now is that there is one man in Downing Street who is controlling more than he should. That’s what we focus on, because that’s what we know. There can’t be secret organisations or unaccountable governments because if there was, and you know it, someone would talked. Something would have fucked up. So this is just one man, and we have to find out as much as we can about him before he realises.”
Nodding, Jack breathed in slowly, steadying his stress levels. It wasn’t an easy life to lead; being hunted, being hated. There were times where he’d dwell on what his old friends might think of him - all his old colleagues, his first girlfriend Jane. His father was probably drinking himself into an early grave like his mother over the crimes Jack had committed. At first, when he saw the news articles about himself, he wished nothing more than to clear his name, to put across his side of the truth. Now, he was all too aware that he might never be the same person in these people’s eyes.
“If I can’t make it back into London,” Jack began, “Or if I’m caught…”
“Don’t think like,” Alex interrupted.
“We have to seriously consider that I might not be coming back, Alex,” he urged, “You have no idea how dangerous it is for me out there. Every person I pass on the street might recognise me. It just takes one to call it in.”
“And yet you move around the country all the time?” Alex questioned him, “So what’s really the problem? For the past six months you’ve spent most of your time in London anyway. It hasn’t bothered you before, has it?”
/> Jack shrugged, “Maybe it has, I’ve just kept quiet.”
Alex straightened up and returned a sceptical gaze. It bore right into Jack’s forehead and he felt it penetrate his skull, scanning the neurons for information. There was a reason Alex was the real leader, and this was it. He had a judgement of character that Jack could never ascertain. He was savvy beyond measure. It was a natural talent that had forgotten Jack at birth.
“It just feels so much… bigger now,” he said, “The stakes are higher.”
“Not any higher than they were a week ago,” he said, “You said it yourself - that you suspected there was someone else behind this, someone other than David White and Cameron Snowden.”
“I know but -”
“But what? When it came to it you just couldn’t accept that you were right?” Alex said, “You were right, Jack and that is a good thing.”
“It doesn’t feel like a good thing, if I’m honest. This one piece of knowledge, and look at what we’re creating? Mass destruction, fear, panic… just so that one man, me, can get into London for a bloody research project.”
“This one piece of information might lead to the government’s downfall. What would you rather history remember you as?”
“If I’m really honest, I’d rather history didn’t remember me at all,” he smiled, somewhat comforted but still shaking with fear even though he wasn’t going to leave the compound for at least another week.
“Good, you can help me with some more planning then,” Alex said, diving back into maps.
It was in those that Jack and Alex spent the remainder of the week. Only for meals, fresh air and sleep did either of them leave Alex’s office. From time to time they brought in people to debrief, giving out detail on a need to know basis. For extra protection, random members were given erroneous information in a bid to prevent anyone from figuring out the whole plan.
They were very much aware that whoever The Mole was, they could be inside the compound presently and there was nothing they could do about it. Ask too many questions and the wrong person would lose trust in them; openly search for them and they could run the risk exposing their knowledge before they could have the chance to catch them. It was a fine line that they avoided crossing and with their plan placed in danger with every person they entrusted with the details, tensions were running extremely high by the end of the week.
Alex was on edge most of the time, and only calm when in the comfort of his office. Similarly, Jack felt the same. Claudia had attempted to speak to him on more than one occasion, but he had to steer clear of her to avoid unnecessary attention. To everyone inside the compound, she was Tanya Phillips, but if one person found out who she really was then the whole operation might be at risk. Of course, there was little chance of anyone realising any details of the operation in London, but if The Mole realised they were creating a distraction, it might all be over before it had even begun.
On the eve before he was due to leave, Jack sat on the edge of his bunk bed, picking away at a scab in his hand. His thoughts were still in Alex’s office, mulling over the plan and how they were to execute it. It was the biggest operation they had handled since blowing up the London Eye three and a half years ago. Somehow it didn’t seem all that long ago when Jack had watched the replays on the news, and yet simultaneously it felt like it was all a dream.
Tomorrow, he would be escorted from the compound to an agreed location. From there he would be driven to Glasgow, where he would stay in a safe house over night until Alex gave the go ahead that the plan was all on track. Then he would make his way to London and immediately travel to a secure location; a safe house exclusive to Jack. Once safely embedded into the capitol again, he would set about gathering intel on this mysterious man.
“You look lost in thought?” a voice said nearby.
Jack looked up, a little unnerved that he was being watched, “Oh, it’s you.”
Claudia smiled sweetly before sitting down on the opposite bunk. Only half the dormitories were filled at present. Four other people were laying out their belongings and preparing for bed on the far side of the room, engaged in their own conversation.
“I know that you’ve been busy lately,” she begun, “And call it woman’s intuition, but I feel there’s something up that you aren’t, or rather won’t, tell me about. So before whatever happens, happens - I just wanted to say, thank you.”
“What for? All I’ve done is endanger your life,” Jack half joked.
“Possibly,” she grinned, “But you made me see something that I should have opened up my eyes to a long time ago.”
“It’s not over yet,” he said, “Seeing that something’s there doesn’t make it go away.”
“No,” she sighed, “But if there’s one person that might do that it’s you.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling and yet feeling even more sad. “I don’t quite believe you, but thank you regardless.”
“Be careful, Jack,” she said, “Remember they know more about you than you do of them.”
“That,” his laughed drained into an exhalation, “I am very much aware of.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to sleep,” she rose up and kissed him on the cheek, “Goodnight. See you tomorrow.”
Jack returned a sweet smile, as underneath he felt a soft sting of guilt for betraying her. In the morning he’d be gone and there was a very real chance she might never see him again.
His dreams were a broken montage of nightmares and sweat induced terrors. From what he could recall, he had returned to the fire in Princes Street Gardens; this time searching for his sister, Jess. No matter how many times he went in, he appeared at the gates, seconds later and the whole search would start again.
By morning he was grateful to be awake, and despite his churning stomach he managed to eat a full breakfast before he left the basement. As he exited the dining area, he stole a lasting look of the exhausted people pouring milk over their cereal and gazing bleary eyed into the middle distance. A life sheltered by concrete; days greeted by darkness and night welcomed as another victory of survival. He was almost envious.
Outside in the yard, there was a car waiting for him. The farm labourers were already hard at work in the fields and so it was that no one noticed him when he slipped into the car without anything to his name aside from a wallet seemingly belonging to a Jamie Jones, but crammed so full of notes that he suspected he now carried more money than he’d ever saved in his life.
He wound the window down to watch the countryside roll by. The sunshine splintered through the trees that flanked either side of the road. The mountains were a deep blue set to a cobalt sky and the green fields rushed by with a tang of sweet summer upon the air.
For a whole hour, Jack immersed himself in comforting denial. He reminisced about long road trips with his family during his childhood. Summer holidays were an infinity to a ten year old. He remembered how he wanted to see the world, for his family to go camping in the Himalayas and to climb Mount Everest. He wanted to go scuba diving with turtles in the Caribbean and go dinosaur hunting in Africa. It was strange, he thought, how dreams changed; how one day he woke up wanting to be an astronaut, and the next he merely wanted to stay alive until sunset. Was Death even so difficult? Did suffering even matter when you knew Death was coming. What was pain, what was fear, when the path was finally so clear? Dying is easy, Jack thought, it’s wanting stay alive that’s the struggle. Not whether you can, but whether you want to.
The car stopped in a village, Jack didn’t catch the name. They got out of the car and another one was waiting for him across the car park. There was no one around, just the two Renaults and them. Jack didn’t know their names. At this stage people knew his name more than he knew theirs.
He got into the other car and sat in the back seat as his drivers exchanged a few words. He kept an ear on them, but they spoke of nothing but the mission they were assigned with. The second driver got into Jack’s car whilst the first returned to the other.
/>
“So, Glasgow?” the driver said.
“No,” Jack corrected him, “The plan’s changed.”
“Oh, right?” the driver paused, awaiting orders.
“We’re going to Edinburgh.”
Chapter Thirty
Relugas Road. Jack didn’t even bother asking the driver to take him anywhere else. By the time Alex found out, he’d already be gone. And what was he going to do about it anyway? Come down here, risk revealing himself? That wasn’t Alex’s style. He was a man who loved to cling to the fringes.
The homecoming wasn’t quite as nostalgia inducing as the first. Summertime in Edinburgh was a blustery affair of rain showers and fragmented sunshine. On the other side of the door he faced similar conditions. At least this time he knew what waited on the other side of the door. At least this time he was prepared.
Standing on the front step, he raised his hand to prepare to knock on forty-two. A part of him sniggered at the daring attitude - broad daylight bearing down on his face for all to catch a glimpse.
He heard scurrying from behind the door, followed by a muffled shout to wait a second. It was her voice, though she sounded out of breath. A moment later and the door flung open. Her porcelain skin turned to whitest snow.
For a minute she stood, frozen on the threshold as she could not quite believe her eyes. Her bump was prominent now, there was no mistaking a child lurked in there. He focussed on her face; it made it easier not to dwell.
“Get in, now,” she hurried him through the door when she arrived at her senses.
Jack hopped through and found himself taken aback by the refurbishment of his old home. The wallpaper had been stripped back, repainted and the carpet taken up. A glimpse of the living room revealed a complete refit, with modern furnishings and an inbuilt bookshelf. There was no trace left of the house he used to live in.