"This isn't a new mess at all, then," said Dad. "It's the same old mess."
"But with less impaling this time around. I hope."
"Yeah," said our captive cheerily. "The big man prefers crucifixion."
I clipped his ear.
"Um… I didn't follow half of that," said the guy who'd assumed control of the Rangers. "Can you start at the beginning?"
"Later," snapped Dad. "First of all, this little sod's going to give us chapter and verse on his boss's operation. Aren't you?"
"You betcha."
"Smart lad."
An hour later we were gathered in front of a classroom whiteboard as Dad talked us through a map of London that he'd put together during the interrogation.
"These guys are well armed, very organised and disciplined," he told us. "They've got a whole bunch of ex-special forces types running their operation, and they maintain a clear and functional command structure. The good news for us is that they mainly concern themselves with keeping order in London. The snatchers who operate outside the M25 are basically contractors. They're scavengers and lowlifes who work in teams to assemble kids in a number of compounds like this one, spread around the country. Then they're collected regularly by convoys, each of which is run by one overseer from central command who keeps them in line.
"They don't have complete control of London. South of the river their control is pretty much absolute. There are communities there who are actually giving their kids to these bastards willingly. It's an area of hard core zealots and converts. Pretty much entirely hostile territory.
"North of the river the picture's less clear. It seems the population there is mostly controlled by fear and intimidation, although the battle for hearts and minds is ongoing. There's one major pocket of resistance around Hammersmith where — Lee, you'll like this — a gang of kids who escaped from a transport have set up a liberation army."
I smiled. "Nice."
"But according to our man here, there's a major crackdown planned for next week. They've tried to lure them out into traps or get someone on the inside, but it's never worked. They're going to go in hard and wipe them out."
"Not so nice," murmured Tariq.
"What about their command?" asked one of the Rangers.
"This is where it gets tricky. They've set up home in the Palace of Westminster and turned it into a fortress. Concrete barricades, electric fences, gun towers, searchlights. They've even got a minefield. And this is where their boss lives. Spider."
"What do we know about him?" I asked.
"He holds court from the speaker's chair in the House of Commons, but apart from that, nothing. No one except the very top echelon get to see him. But he's got a reputation for being utterly ruthless."
"There's a surprise," I said.
"And he keeps his men happy with a brothel he's set up in — get this — the main chamber of the House of Lords."
"Brothel?"
"Rape camp, really, I guess. A whole bunch of young girls who are at the men's disposal 24/7. He's got huge stockpiles of food and booze too. If you work for him, you eat and drink your fill and fuck any time you feel like it."
"Shit, where do I sign up," laughed one of the Rangers until his mates gave him death stares, and he muttered: "Only joking, geez."
"Twat," said one of his colleagues.
Silence fell as we considered the size of the task before us.
"So," said Tariq eventually. "We invade London, fight our way past a city full of brainwashed religious cultists, take on a private army, storm a massively fortified castle that's defended by highly motivated special forces, and kill this Spider fucker. Then we take a plane, fly to America, rescue all the kids and take down a church that effectively rules a continent."
"That's about the size of it," said Dad.
Tariq sniffed dismissively. "That's the problem with life these days. So few real challenges."
"So here's what we're going to do," Dad continued. "Tariq, you're going back to St Mark's. There's a chance that Jane might tell them where the school is."
"No fucking way," I shouted. "She'd die first."
"They might not let her, Lee."
"She'd never talk."
"We can't take that chance." He stared me down and after a long moment, I nodded. He was right. "Tariq, you go back to the school and put them on a war footing. We've rehearsed it often enough, so you know what to do. But be ready to mobilise, too. We might need you."
"No worries, boss," said Tariq.
"Lee, you're going with our Ranger friends here. Meet up with Jack in Nottingham see if you can persuade the Hooded Man to lend us some troops. We'll need all the help we can get."
"He'll want to talk to you about our dead men, too, I reckon," said one of them, threateningly. Dad was instantly right in his face.
"If anything happens to my boy, there will be a very bloody reckoning in Nottingham. Do I make myself completely clear?"
The Ranger tried to stare him down, but failed. He looked away. "Whatever," he said. But he looked away first. Message received.
"And what about you?" I asked.
"I'm going to Hammersmith," he replied, stepping back. "If there really is an army of kids in there, they don't know an attack is coming. I can warn them and either help get them to safety or, more likely, help them fight. It's where my experience will be most useful. We need all the allies we can get if we're going to pull this off."
I was checking the saddle on the spare horse the Rangers were letting me ride when Dad took me to one side.
"What now?" I asked tersely.
He looked at me hard, as father and commander fought it out. "It's been two years since Iraq and Salisbury. You've not been in a fight since. You refuse to talk to anyone about anything that happened. And now, the first time we go into combat, you shoot six people — one potential ally and five irrelevances who didn't need killing."
"I disagree. They really, really needed killing. But I'm sorry about earlier. I wasn't thinking straight."
"I know. I'm sorry too. But I'm worried about you. You're my son and I love you but to be totally honest you scare me a little bit right now. I think your judgement is off."
"That why you're sending me on the diplomatic mission?"
"No, you were the logical choice. But I can't pretend I'm not glad of that."
"Can I have my weapon back?"
He sighed and handed me the handgun. "Just don't shoot Robin Hood, okay?"
We both sniggered in spite of ourselves. "Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd have to say," he said, smiling.
We both stepped forward and embraced, awkwardly. "Good luck in London," I said. "I'll be at the rendezvous, whether he sends help with me or not."
He hugged me hard then let me go and stepped back.
"Be safe," he said.
I put my foot in the stirrup, swing myself onto the horse and trotted over to join Hood's men.
"We ride fast and we won't be making any concessions. So keep up or get left behind," said their leader.
"Don't you worry about me," I said.
"Oi!" it was Tariq, walking towards me, waving. I pulled the reins and steered my horse across to him.
"You off then?" he said.
"Yup. See you at the rendezvous."
He nodded then looked up at me, his face for once entirely serious. "She'll be fine, Lee."
"Let me worry about her," I replied. "You just keep the school safe. No matter what."
"Promise. Hey, you'd better hurry up, they're going without you."
I turned to see the Rangers galloping away down the road. I kicked my steed hard and took off after them, riding to beg assistance from a legend.
Chapter Nine
"He wears this black robe with a big hood. He never takes it off."