“They’re not totally brought down yet,” I said. “Still all sorts of awful breeding regulations in place. Uh... you won’t mention your... speculations... to anyone else, will you?”
Watkins snorted. “Are you mad? I’ve no wish to share the Major’s fate. I’ll take it to my grave, lass, never fear.”
He seemed to mean it, thank goodness. But perhaps it would be kindest not to mention this to Eduardo. At least, not unless we actually needed to use the manual again...
The first clock began to strike the hour and I checked my watch. Two o’clock. I needed to get home. Luc would be getting hungry and the food would be done.
“I suppose I’d better be going,” said Watkins.
“Would you like to stay for lunch? Bane should have taken it out of the oven by now, it’s all ready.”
Pleasure warred with uncertainty on Watkins’ face. “Well... if you’d really like to have me.”
It was strange to be around Watkins again, here, on my own turf, as it were. It brought the Facility back to me, yet... whenever the dorm door had opened, and Watkins’ face had appeared, we’d all felt safe. He wasn’t unwelcome. “This way, then.”
There was a slight delay at the entrance to my apartment block, while the guard on duty got clearance for Watkins to enter, but soon enough I was unlocking the door I still had to keep locked, Eduardo’s orders.
Bane lay on the floor, apparently demonstrating to Luc just how easy crawling was really. Luc lay on his tummy, gurgling with laughter. I watched, amused, until Bane noticed I had a guest with me and scrambled hastily to his feet, scooping our darling little boy up and settling him carefully in his arms. “Another guest, Margo?”
Another... ah. Hadn’t thought of that. Oh well. “This is Watkins, Bane.” I took a quick peep at the visitor’s pass. “William Watkins.”
“Huh.” Bane stepped forward, freeing one hand from his precious burden and offering it. “Margo had a guard in the Facility called Watkins...” He trailed off as his eyes fell on the twisted fingers of Watkins’ left hand. “Aww...” he glanced at Luc and substituted what he’d been going to say for a plaintive, “Margo!” his hand retreating...
“Shake, Bane,” I said sternly. “Watkins is staying for lunch.”
Bane sighed, shook, then suddenly froze, an expression of horror creeping onto his face. “Lunch...” he muttered.
I sniffed, suddenly noticing the slight burnt smell in the air. “Bane! How is it you can time a mission down to the millisecond but you can’t pull food out of the oven after half an hour!” I stormed into the kitchen to inspect the damage. [B: Fair point, Margo. I really will try to do better!]
“I’m sorry, Margo,” Bane followed me penitently. “I got distracted. I’m sure Luc was trying to crawl...”
“He’s only just started holding his head up, Bane.” But I was somewhat mollified, all the same. I also found our son very distracting.
Pulling a pan out of the oven, I took the lid off. The shepherd’s pie was blackened around the edges, but... “Well, you’re lucky, Bane, I think most of the central part will be fine. Good job I made a big one.”
Luc began to whimper, either wanting my attention, or hungry, perhaps both. I took him from Bane and carried him back to where Watkins stood, pretending, in proper British fashion, not to have noticed the minor culinary crisis.
“Watkins, this is Luc. Lucas Mark Verrall. Luc, this nice gentleman is Watkins. He helped look after your mummy for a while, once.”
“That’s a generous way of putting it,” sighed Watkins, looking at Luc, who stopped fretting for a moment to peer back. “Lovely little lad.”
“Well, I think so,” I agreed, as Luc began threatening to cry again.
“Margo, you feed Luc, I’ll finish off the meal,” said Bane, still in apologetic mode.
I gestured Watkins to the sofa and settled myself in the armchair with Luc, unbuttoning my dress, at which Watkins looked greatly alarmed. But the dress’s cape-thingy saved him from any serious embarrassment.
“Oh, I should mention,” I said, once Luc was sucking happily, “we’ve a couple of other people coming to lunch. I didn’t think about it before, but...”
A knock at the door cut me off. Bane went to get it. “Hi, U; hi, Jane.”
About a month ago we—or at any rate, I—had been stunned when fellow former Salperton reAssignee Jane had showed up with Eduardo’s latest bunch of VSS recruits. She was a pretty committed Believer now, wonder of wonders—though some cynical part of me couldn’t help wondering if it didn’t have a lot to do with it being the way of life most detested by the EuroGov—and policing a small, peaceful Free Town in Africa for the rest of her life did not appeal to her. She wanted to fight for the cause, she wanted to be where the action was and she wanted it badly enough to have passed VSS selection.
The laypeople in the State were fairly equally balanced when it came to the sexes, and the priests and sisters balanced each other out pretty well, but the various guard units were heavily skewed to men. Mostly young men. Especially with the vote won, the arrival of any pretty young woman caused tremendous interest in these quarters, especially among those actually senior enough to marry. Most of our guard friends had been finding excuses to drop around and casually pump me for information concerning how Jane felt about them.
Jane was no better. Committed to her new faith she might now be, but she clearly didn’t plan on remaining celibate longer than it took to find the right marriage partner.
Right now she was with Unicorn, though, the chastest and most confirmed bachelor in the state, so they’d probably both come from being on duty. U had actually kind of invited himself to dinner today, or as close as his exquisite manners would allow, but he was always welcome.
“Hi, Margo,” Jane came straight over, unfastening her glossy mane of black hair and tossing it back. “How’s the cutie pie...” She saw Watkins and started. “Holy...” she finished it off with something that made U wince and me frown. Luc wasn’t talking yet, and I certainly didn’t want that to be his first word.
Her colleague’s wince had more effect than my frown. Jane’s coffee and cream cheeks darkened slightly. “Uh, sorry. Watkins, what the h... um, what on earth are you doing here?”
Watkins had gone very red too, clearly not so sure of his welcome with Jane. “Uh... Well, I ran into Margaret whilst sightseeing in St Peters, and she invited me to lunch.”
“Oh.” Jane frowned for another moment, as though surprised it could be explained so simply, then seemed to conclude that yes, it really could. U had come over to stand beside her, so she said, “Well, anyway, hello Watkins. Never thought I’d see you again. This is Jack. Jack, this is Watkins. He used to help keep us locked in the Facility.”
U’s head rose slightly, his eyes narrowing.
“He used to keep the Finchleys in line, as well,” I said quietly.
Jane pulled a face. “Well, that too.”
Another knock at the door. Bane let Jon in and dived back into the kitchen.
“You’ll never guess who Margo invited to lunch,” said Jane, before I could say anything.
“Who?” asked Jon, transferring his white cane to his left hand and rather self-consciously smoothing down his black clerical attire. He’d only been in the seminary for a month.
Jane jerked her head meaningfully at Watkins, who spoke rather uncertainly. “Uh, hello Jonathan.”
Jon started to frown in puzzlement, then a look of astonishment covered his face. “Watkins.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I hope you don’t mind. Margaret very kindly invited me to lunch.”
Jon was already dismissing his surprise. “Fine by me. The more the merrier. How are you?”
Watkins began to repeat what he’d already told me, so I yielded Luc to U, who was hovering hopefully, and went to see what Bane was doing to the food.
Soon enough we were all settled at the table and our Vatican guests were looking expectantly from me to Bane. Watki
ns reached for a serving spoon, then looked uncertain and drew his hand back when he noticed no one else had moved.
It was Bane’s turn, and he didn’t go in for long graces, so Watkins wouldn’t have to wait long.
“Dear Lord,” said Bane, clasping his hands in that rather earnest way I found so endearing. “Thank you for food, family, friends, eyes... and... and for kindness and care even in the darkest of places. Amen.”
My heart leapt in delight, whilst Watkins looked so taken aback I thought he might have to wipe his eyes. Bane was trying, and he’d clearly remembered that all I’d ever said about Watkins had been positive. Well, except for my grumbling about his sharp wits, which had nearly scuppered our escape before I’d got the drop on him...
“So I’m telling poor Sally, ‘It’s all right, Margaret’s a nice girl, isn’t she?’ and all the time my heart’s pounding like billy-ho and I’m thinking, ‘I hope to goodness these girls are as nice as they’ve always seemed or we’re dead as doornails!”
Now that our plates were empty, Watkins had been talked into telling his side of the escape. “But Margaret waited until Sally wasn’t looking to put her out with the nonLee, which made me feel a bit better, then the moment I was busy laying Sally down on the floor, she plugged me too. I woke up with a splitting headache, a distinct lack of clothing, and a specialCorps medic slapping my face. SpecialCorps crawling all over the Facility, in fact; I knew at once you’d all got away.
“Major Everington was prowling around driving them mad with his sardonic replies to their stupid questions and looking—to me, anyway—like he’d have been whistling jauntily if it weren’t for the fact he knew he was going to get it in the neck. He caught me in an empty corridor that evening, when the bigwigs had all gone, and gave me the parcel. And the next morning they came for him. Evil blighters.” Watkins paused to drink from his wine glass. “The only person to blame was Wallis,” he said bitterly. “And what did they do? Promote her. Pah.” He sipped more wine, shaking his head in disgust.
Jon and Jane were shaking their heads as well, and so was I. Captain Gladys Wallis, the girls’ warden, had been cruel and abusive. There’d been nothing in the news, but hopefully whatever she was doing now, she’d no power over anyone.
Bane went and made coffees for us all, and we moved to the sofas, U taking the place beside Jane on the two-seater, leaving Bane and me on the three-seater with Watkins. Jon stole Luc and sat on the floor with him in his lap, which solved the problem of another seat. As Watkins began to tell me more about Sally’s so far depressingly futile job hunt, Jon was clearly too wrapped up with Luc to listen very closely.
“Uh, Jane,” U was saying in a low voice, “I, um, wanted a word, actually...”
“Well, go on, then, it’s just us,” said Jane. Well, on that sofa, anyway...
U shot Watkins a look, then took a deep breath, as though dismissing the unexpected guest, and focussed his vivid blue eyes on Jane again. “Well... I was actually wondering if there was any chance you might like to... that you might consider... taking a turn around the Vatican wall with me?” he finished very fast.
Jane had been here long enough to know she was being asked out. I lost track of what I was saying in reply to Watkins, my ears straining, attention completely grabbed by the other conversation. Jon had fallen silent, mid-coo, and Luc gurgled an objection. Bane’s head swivelled sharply towards U, then abruptly back again as he tried to pretend it hadn’t. I fought not to allow my own head to turn, not to stare, but out of the corner of my eye I could see the deep crimson that was creeping up U’s tense face as the silence lengthened.
Jane was clearly taken aback. U had been one of the first guys she’d grilled me about, but of course I’d had to break it to her that...
“I thought you didn’t like girls,” she retorted, blunt as ever.
U’s face went entirely brick red, but he kept his cool. “I like you,” he said simply.
Jane’s turn to blush, the warm brown of her cheeks darkening. “Well,” she... stuttered. “In that case, I’d love to. I mean...” She began to recover herself. “Why not. Yeah, why not. Let’s.”
Well, that was a first. Another first. Jane had turned everyone down so far, on the grounds they hadn’t got to know her so must be going entirely on looks. I’d been expecting those with a more serious interest to start making a move soon, so I wasn’t surprised that someone had seized on the comparative privacy of a Sunday lunch, but... U? [B: I was gobsmacked. In a really happy way!]
Jane and U. My mind boggled. The silence in the room was far too obvious. I struggled to remember what I’d been saying...
“Great,” U was saying, looking equal parts thrilled and terrified. “That’s smashing. What about... tomorrow night? We... don’t actually have to walk around the wall, you know, that’s just how one asks... ”
“Yeah, yeah, Vatican slang, I know,” said Jane, but she was smiling, and looked very pleased with herself, in a startled sort of way.
What had I been saying to Watkins? Think, Margo! Or say something else, come on, come on...
Jon managed to mumble something that made very little sense to Luc, but my mind remained blank.
Watkins, sensing the awkward moment, and no doubt having garnered some notion of the cause, rescued the situation. “Glad I was able to retire, myself,” he said heartily, as though there’d been no pause in the conversation.
“Yes, very good,” I said stupidly. “I mean... That must have been much nicer for you.”
“Than looking for a job. Much nicer,” added Bane, sounding just as stupid as me. But this was such a shock. U had seemed as irrecoverably fixed on celibate bachelorhood as anyone could be. And even if he hadn’t been... U and Jane? It just wasn’t a combination I’d have thought of.
Jane was so loud and rebellious and, well, prickly. U was the perfect gentleman, so honourable: kind and polite and conscientious. But they were also both keenly intelligent, brave... Jane seemed to be taking to VSS duties like a fish to water... And honourable wasn’t the word most people used when describing how Agent Jack Willmott had won the Battle for the Vatican over a pile of unconscious—and in some cases lifeless—civilians. Clever, cunning, and ruthless, were words more commonly used. Perhaps they had more in common than it seemed on the surface. Perhaps...
Maybe U was—understandably—embarrassed by the obvious distraction of everyone in the room, because it wasn’t long before he thanked me and Bane for the hospitality and made his escape with the excuse of going to the range for shooting practise. Jane went with him, but since Watkins was still there, Bane and Jon and I could hardly discuss the startling turn of events and Watkins was too polite to inquire. I topped up Watkins’ wine glass and tried to put it out of my head.
“Watkins, why did you join EGD security?” I asked. As sincerely well-meaning as anyone in EGD security gets had been Lucas’s assessment of Watkins.
Watkins’s attention shifted abruptly from a framed photo of Lucas on the wall and back to me. He took a rather immoderate swig from his glass. “It’s not a cheerful story, lassie.” His tone was grim.
“I would really like to know.”
He sighed, long and from the heart. “Well...” He hesitated, drank more wine, and finally began. “When I was at school, long time ago indeed, now, I fell in love. Bit like you and your young man, really, only... well, unfortunately for Cathie I was no Bane Verrall. She failed her Sorting, you see. Unexpected, like. I was heart-broken, of course.
“And I was a good boyfriend to her, or so I thought for fifty years or more, until you two showed me right up. Because I wrote to her, you see. Twice a week, for eighteen months, two weeks and three days. Refused to forget her, the way they wanted me to.” He sighed again, even more heavily. “I think it was some comfort to her, though I can see now, decades too late, I should have done more. Dared more...”
“And after that, you joined EGD security?” Bane burst out incredulously.
Watkins smiled, thin
and sad. “Something happened to her, in there. Someone did something to her. She never told me exactly what—knew it would have been censored, no doubt, even if she didn’t want to spare me grief. But I could tell. So I swore then that I’d commit my life to making sure what happened to her never happened to any other reAssignee.” He laughed bleakly, drained his glass and held it out with something so akin to desperation that I refilled it, though he’d had several glasses already.
“It seemed like a good idea when I was eighteen,” he said, after another long drink. “Felt like I was doing something. I slowly figured out, of course, that I’d simply made myself part of the problem. Too late by then. Still, I didn’t realise quite how ridiculous my youthful choices were until Bane here demonstrated how a devoted boyfriend ought to behave in such a situation. Makes me feel like there must’ve been a real shortage of devoted boyfriends for a very long time.”
Bane shifted, embarrassed. “A shortage of dodgy Resistance contacts, more like,” he said bluntly. “Which is hardly a bad thing.”
“No?” said Watkins. “The results were pretty stunning.”
“Not entirely,” I said. “Not at the Facility. The helicopter pilot was killed, and it was only by God’s good grace none of you guards shared his fate. And then there were the soldiers on the Channel Bridge...”
“Can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs,” said Watkins. “What we were doing was wrong, and any of us with an ounce of conscience knew it, however deeply buried the knowledge might be.”
“But you were there because you wanted to help reAssignees,” I objected. “And Sally, and some of the others...”
“At the beginning, yes. But once I’d figured out that what I was doing was just keeping the whole thing going, I probably should have left. But I didn’t, because I needed a pay cheque. I was glad you didn’t kill me, lassie, but I couldn’t have said you were wrong if you had.”
“Well, I would’ve,” I said fiercely. “There was no need to kill you!”
Watkins shrugged. “Well, no need, no,” he conceded, his attention straying back to the baby gurgling in Jon’s lap.
The Siege of Reginald Hill Page 22