by Eliza Green
With a heavy step she walked down the thirty flights of steps. When she reached the first floor, she trembled with anger and frustration. Alex, her husband of three years, was a stranger to her. Her foot slipped on the top of the last set and she grabbed the railing to steady herself. If she stumbled and fell, who would find her? Who would care enough to notice she was gone? She’d returned to Earth to find Alex, to rescue her from her slavery.
Isobel sat on the bottom step and thought about her one way trip to Earth. She had a good life on Exilon 5, and she’d abandoned it to return to a life worth nothing. Did Jenny Waterson hold the key to her freedom? Possibly. Would she trust another human so easily? Probably not.
Isobel pushed the images of her old, pampered life to the back of her mind. Seeing Alex’s life made everything she’d wished for seem unimportant now. What mattered was what she did next, where she went from here.
She sat there for a while to forget what others wanted from her. What did she want?
26
Marcus woke the next morning to his worst headache in a long time. The drinking hole, a small bar on Madison Avenue in Manhattan sold liquor at eighty proof.
A loud bang on the door made him jump. He thought he heard Carl’s voice.
‘Come on, man. Get the fuck up. We gotta go!’
Marcus checked the time. It was 11am. ‘Shit.’ He should have been down at the market an hour ago, collecting the takings from the day before.
He and Carl had discussed the situation in the mansion and Waverley’s revolt, but as soon as a pretty waitress showed up, Carl had spent the rest of the night trying to cop a feel.
Marcus groaned and rolled out of bed. His knees hit the floor first and he fell forward onto his elbows. He crawled to the nearest chair and hauled himself up.
‘Come on, man. Enzo’s wonderin’ where ya are.’
The room was dark. Marcus groped for the door handle and unlocked the door.
Carl burst in and flicked on the light.
‘Jesus.’ Carl pinched the end of his nose. ‘It smells like a brewery in here.’
Marcus ignored him and felt around for his trousers. He pulled them on. His mouth felt desert dry.
‘Get me some water.’
Carl handed him the glass of water from the table beside Marcus’ bed. Marcus drained the glass, not nearly satisfied.
After three attempts, he pulled on a T-shirt and picked up his black jacket from the floor. Through blurred vision, he found Carl.
‘How d’you have so much energy? You drank the same as me last night.’
Carl flashed him a quick smile. ‘Mus’ be my hollow legs.’ He pulled on his arm. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’
Marcus stumbled on the final step of the stairs and barely made it to the car without hurling.
‘You okay, man?’ said Carl climbing into the front.
Marcus drew in a deep breath and his stomach settled. He sat in the back and slipped on a pair of dark glasses. ‘I’ll be fine when we get there. Let’s get this over with.’
☼
The ride to the market took its toll on Marcus’ stomach and he came close to throwing up twice. He made it. Barely. But the second his feet touched solid ground, his legs almost gave out from under him. He darted down a side street, ripped off his mask and threw up last night’s drink.
Feeling a little better, he stood up, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and cracked his neck. He put his gel mask back on.
‘I’m not drinking that fucking shit again,’ said Marcus, when he reached Carl.
Carl smirked. ‘Why did you? Last check, we was drinking beers. Then you switched to that homemade whiskey.’
‘The barman said it was legit!’ The thoughts of the bootleg alcohol with bits floating in it set his stomach swirling again. He swallowed.
Carl laughed hard. ‘I’ve known a few to die from alcohol poisoning there. Probably better you stick to the safe shit from now on.’
‘I don’t ever plan on going back there. And I’m never drinking again.’
The rest of their time at the market was a blur; Marcus was too distracted by his stirring gut. Usually, he liked to rough up the vendors to remind them who was boss, but today he was happy to hand over the reins to Carl.
Carl’s face lit up. ‘Great. Can’t wait to knock the shit outta someone.’
Marcus slumped against the back wall of the warehouse while Carl used his own knuckleduster to bleed one vendor at random. After a few minutes, Marcus nodded for him to stop.
‘But I’m only gettin’ warmed up.’
Marcus clutched the sides of his head. ‘The screaming’s making my head hurt. Enough already.’
Carl let the vendor go but blocked the door to the warehouse. The vendor touched his bloody face and scurried down the side of the building to the front. Marcus thought about shouting a final warning after him, but his voice was tight and raw from the drinking and vomiting.
Carl watched after him, but ducked back. ‘We got company.’
Marcus’ heart galloped as he prepared for Enzo. He’d forgotten his own knuckledusters so he grabbed Carl’s, caked in blood, and slipped it on. Albert Lee appeared and he almost laughed when he saw the two old men with him. The sight made him forget about his hangover. He dismissed Carl, suddenly in the mood to test out the weapon on his hand.
‘You know, it’s rude to eavesdrop, old man,’ said Marcus.
‘We need to talk to you,’ said a visibly shaking Albert.
Marcus pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned Carl’s weapon. ‘Can’t you see I’m a little busy?’
‘This can’t wait. We need to talk about what’s happening in Waverley. The Compounds in North, West and South are missing generators.’
Marcus knew about the issues with the generators in Waverley. All old machines, all fixable. Parts to fix them would cost the residents a month’s earnings; prices that Marcus knew they couldn’t afford.
Marcus smiled. ‘Well that’s what happens when you owe more money than you are taking in. Don’t think I don’t know about the little “robbery” at Sal’s place.’
‘The life support is failing, too,’ said one of the men, a Spaniard. ‘Is that also because of the robbery?’
Marcus failed to hide his surprise. But glitchy life support could work in his favour. He would use it somehow to turn Waverley into an asset, not a liability.
‘Is the life support a separate issue?’ said Albert.
Marcus shrugged. ‘You pay back what was taken and we’ll return the generators. And maybe we’ll look into the life support, too.’
‘How should we do that?’ said Albert. ‘There’s nearly 30K missing.’
Marcus clicked his fingers in Albert’s face. ‘Listen to me, old man. I’m not interested in excuses. You’ve seen what happens to people when they piss me off out here. It will be far worse for you inside the neighbourhoods, believe me. Plus, you’ve got those two nice kids to worry about, and I’ve got a few jobs for them to do.’
Albert’s fight seemed to drain out of him at the mention of the two brats. But the second man caught him off guard. He came at Marcus and held him up by the collar of his black jacket.
‘You are nobody. You are scum. You wish you were better. You are not better than us. You are a toy for the Agostinis to play with. Why would we negotiate with a nobody like you?’
Marcus saw red at being called a nobody. He was somebody. He was fucking better than Enzo. And smarter than Carl. And he would wipe the floor with these three men.
When the man intensified his grip, Marcus worked his Buzz Gun out of his pocket. He fired off a shot. The German went down like the dog he was.
☼
Carl and an irritated Marcus returned to HQ with the takings from the market. He hated being called a nobody. He needed to see Gaetano, to solidify his place in the King’s setup.
‘Is the boss in?’ he asked one of the men in the kitchen getting a coffee. Marcus could have done with one, too, but h
e didn’t want to miss Gaetano. He had new information for him that he hoped would put him in good stead.
‘Yeah, I heard he’s back. But he’s going out again, so be quick.’
Marcus raced up the stairs and stood outside Gaetano’s door. He heard voices inside. Enzo emerged, looking surprised to see Marcus.
‘I need to speak to Mr Agostini.’
Enzo looked back inside the room, then at Marcus. ‘Be quick about it.’ He touched the sheathed knife on his belt.
Marcus closed the door behind him. Gaetano stood by his desk talking to someone on one of the old walkie-talkies. None of the men knew much about technology and so far the Indigenes hadn’t been useful in that area either. The old-fashioned methods of communication were their only option.
‘Secure the perimeter,’ said a gruff Gaetano into the walkie-talkie. ‘I don’t want anyone getting out.’ He glanced at Marcus, then put down the device and smiled at him. ‘Sorry about that. Trouble in Five Sisters neighbourhood. Some of the residents are getting antsy.’ He gestured for Marcus to sit. ‘My son tells me the interrogation went well. One casualty.’
Marcus nodded. ‘The waif was helpful in reading their minds. I believe the older male will work more efficiently now.’
‘Johan is his name, yes?’ Gaetano narrowed his eyes.
Marcus nodded and held his breath. Johan was his ticket to getting information about Gaetano’s plans.
‘What was the other male? The one you killed?’
‘An empath.’ Truth was he had no idea, but Gaetano would have expected him to kill at least one.
Marcus hadn’t come here to talk about the interrogation. ‘I found out some news about Waverley. The life support is failing there. The residents are struggling to cope.’
Gaetano sat down. He didn’t look surprised. ‘Yes, I know. It’s happening in Five Sisters, too. Who told you about it?’
‘Some residents from Waverley.’
‘Do you know why it’s happening?’
Marcus frowned. ‘No. Why would I?’
Gaetano smiled. ‘No need to be defensive, Marcus. I’m asking everyone the same question. It seems as if the life support runs off a different system to everything else. It’s shutting down in certain blocks inside the neighbourhoods.’
‘Will that happen here?’
‘No. This building belonged to the World Government and it runs off an independent supply. We should be fine.’ Gaetano clasped his hands together. He looked as if he had more to say.
Marcus’ heart thumped.
‘I’m glad you’re here because I’ve been meaning to speak with you. I talked to my son and we believe there’s a traitor inside this house. Someone who’s been feeding intel to the outside. We’re cancelling all unnecessary trips, except to the neighbourhoods or market. That means there’ll be no more out-of-town trips. You and Carl went to Manhattan last night?’
Marcus nodded. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t plan to go there again. What’s going on, Mr Agostini?’
Gaetano waved his hand at him. ‘Nothing for you to worry about. You’ve been loyal to me, to my son. But someone is speaking to our enemies on the outside, informing them as to how this place works. I know for a fact it’s none of my men, but we must be more careful about speaking to outsiders. How well do you trust Carl?’
‘Carl? I trust him with my life.’
‘Good.’ Gaetano nodded. ‘No extra trips for the time being. I’m sure you understand.’
‘Absolutely.’ Marcus stood up. He only needed to be in one place to put his plan into action. ‘I’m due to visit Waverley. I’d like to gauge the size of the problem for myself.’
Gaetano nodded. ‘Business as usual. Use your contacts in Waverley to dig around about the life support issues. And I want you to tighten up curfew there. Understood?’
‘Yes, Mr Agostini. You can trust me to get it done.’ Marcus dropped the takings from the market that morning on the table.
Gaetano counted the money. ‘There’s less here than yesterday.’
‘You told me to put the prices up.’
‘Not by so much that I’m out of pocket.’
‘I had no choice. The vendors were getting cocky.’
Gaetano seemed to accept that as he picked up the money. He walked over to one wall and pulled back a picture to reveal a safe. He tossed the money inside the safe and locked it.
Gaetano turned round. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Shut the door on your way out. And send Enzo back in.’
Marcus closed the door and paused at the top of the stairs. He ran his hand through his hair.
You can trust me to get it done. Had he just painted a bull’s eye on his forehead? How much did Gaetano know? Who did he think was the traitor? Marcus would need to speak to Johan again, and get the waif up and functional.
It had occurred to him that the life support issue was a set-up, a perfect excuse for Gaetano to lay blame with someone and clean house. Or maybe move in new associates without raising suspicions about his greater plans.
Whatever those plans were. Although Marcus could guess. If Gaetano was thinking of expanding his empire, it would mean bringing in new faces from other locations.
Out with the old, in with the new.
He went downstairs and found Enzo in the kitchen talking to someone over the walkie-talkie. Enzo’s earpiece prevented Marcus from hearing what the other person said. But Enzo stopped talking the second he saw Marcus.
‘Your father wants to see you again.’
Enzo nodded and a suspicious Marcus watched him leave. He passed by Enzo who continued his hushed conversation at the bottom of the stairs and found Carl in the front room, relaxing in one of the chairs.
Marcus waited by the door. ‘We have some business in Waverley.’
He narrowed his eyes at Carl, his childhood friend, the man he trusted. But things could change. What if Carl was relaying Marcus’ movements back to Gaetano, to Enzo?
Enzo finished his conversation and snapped his fingers at Marcus.
‘Where are you going?’
Marcus shuddered. ‘Mr Agostini asked me to quiz my contacts in Waverley about the life support.’
‘No.’ Enzo swept his fringe back off his face. ‘Business as usual. Do you hear me? My father doesn’t understand what’s happening there. Do not discuss the life support with the residents.’
Marcus nodded and smiled. Outside, he dropped the pretence. Enzo never disagreed with his father.
As he and Carl climbed into the car, Marcus decided there was only one person he could trust. Himself.
☼
Marcus ignored Enzo’s warning not to mention the life support to the residents. It made sense to do it and Kevin would be his first port of call. But first, he ordered the guards to tighten up curfew by two hours.
It was after the new curfew time when Marcus and Carl returned to Waverley neighbourhood with a bag that held one special item. Marcus was disappointed to find the streets quiet and non chaotic after people had been forced from their homes.
They avoided the main street and parked the car off a side lane near the tavern. Carl stayed in the car while Marcus got out and walked around the back of the building. A low hum of voices could be heard inside the tavern. He threw a pebble at Kevin’s window. The boy looked out and pressed a gel mask to his face before sliding down the drainpipe, quiet as a cat.
‘Kevin, my boy,’ whispered Marcus, looping an arm around Kevin’s neck and pulling him back to the car. ‘I want you to tell me what’s going on with this life support issue.’
‘I don’t know.’ Kevin breathed hard into his gel mask.
Marcus tightened his hold. ‘You’re telling me Albert or Sal haven’t mentioned it at all?’
‘I swear!’
Marcus released Kevin and stared at him. ‘You think I’m made of money? You think you can keep information from me?’
Kevin’s eyes widened. ‘No! It’s not like that. I kn
ow nothing about the life support. We’re all shocked. They say it’s a sporadic thing. We thought it was you. We even have refugees from the Italian compound sleeping on our tavern floor.’ Kevin ran a shaky hand through his wild brown hair.
‘Fine. Keep your eyes and ears open. Come find me at the market tomorrow morning. I have another job for you.’
Kevin dropped his gaze. ‘I was hoping we were done. I don’t want to do any more jobs.’
Marcus grabbed the boy by the hair and yanked his head back. Kevin yelped.
‘You’re done when I say you are. Got it?’
Kevin nodded, tears in his eyes. Marcus smiled and let him go. He had nothing new to share with Gaetano about the issues in Waverley; he had hoped for at least panic. But everything seemed too normal. Maybe it was time to turn up the heat.
‘Get back inside before Albert sees you out here.’
Kevin nodded and ran off. Carl got out of the car and Marcus told him what Kevin had said about the life support.
‘What now?’ said Carl.
‘The money’s still buried at the back of the tavern, right?’
Carl nodded. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘We need to scare old man Lee a bit. So let’s make him think he’s been targeted. He thinks the life support is linked to the missing money, so let’s reinforce that idea.’ Marcus opened his bag and pulled out a spray can filled with red paint; the Kings used it to mark abandoned properties outside the neighbourhood, or places of interest to them.
He handed the can to Carl. ‘I want you to draw a giant X on the back of the tavern.’
Carl rolled his eyes as he took the can from Marcus and popped off the lid.
‘Y’know, that was my idea.’
27
A full hour after going inside, Isobel finally left Alex’s building and crossed the road to where Ben waited for her. This was her life now, not the one she’d just said goodbye to. It was time she found out where she fitted into this world. Ben sat with his back against an alley wall. He jumped to his feet when she approached, adjusting her head scarf. She could sense he had questions, but she didn’t feel up to reliving what had just happened.