The sun is rising fast and a milky light begins to flood the expanse we have to cross unseen.
We go for it, crouching low and running fast. I feel so vulnerable and exposed, expecting to hear a shout or running footsteps at any moment. But we reach the AV without incident and I run and stand behind a large horse chestnut tree. Its green spiky pods remind me of more innocent autumns, of hard-baked, vinegar-coated conkers smashing into each other.
Luc tries the door of the AV and finds it locked. He scrabbles beneath the vehicle, searching around for the spare keycard which is normally magnetically fixed to the underside. We didn’t check if it was still in place after the run-in with the raiders on the floodplain and I’m praying it didn’t get dislodged during my bumpy getaway. Luc’s mother always keeps a spare under there, much to the disapproval of his father who thinks it a dangerously obvious thing to do.
Luc is taking a long time though and I peer out from behind the trunk. He beckons me over.
‘Riley,’ he hisses. ‘I can’t find it. It’s not in the usual place. Come and give me a hand, quick.’
I creep over and slide under the vehicle on my back.
‘I wish we had a torch,’ I say. ‘It’s too dark under here. It’s impossible to see.’
‘I don’t think it’s here.’ Luc slides out from underneath and I join him. His fists are balled up tight and he has smears of oil on his eyebrows and cheek.
Then I see a movement out of the corner of my eye and a streak of fear flashes up my spine. I tap Luc on the arm and point. He turns around to see what has me frozen in terror – a procession of black robed figures streaming out of a small door in the outside wall and heading towards us.
Chapter Twenty Six
The following day I took the bus up to Abi’s house, sure she would have some information from Samuel about what had happened to Connor. The story she gave me was so ludicrous, I could hardly believe she said it with a straight face.
‘Ellie, you won’t believe it – Connor’s a terrorist!’ She looked at me, waiting for my reaction, but I couldn’t speak. I didn’t understand why she would say such a thing. ‘Ellie, you’re in love with a murderer.’ She was clearly joking. ‘God, he could have killed us all.’
‘Are you joking?’
‘Do I sound like I’m joking? I’m really sorry, Ellie, but they’re going to interrogate him and then they’ll probably shoot him.’ She said this with no regard for my feelings. No words of comfort. She treated it like a piece of juicy gossip. Something to be savoured.
‘You spiteful, evil cow!’ I slapped her on her smug face as hard as I could. Her hands flew up to her cheek. I looked at her and shook my head. ‘Why would you say those things?’ I asked. ‘What could possibly make you be so horrible to me?’ Tears escaped with the shock of what was happening.
Still holding her cheek. Abigail raised her head and looked at me. ‘I’m telling the truth and you’ll regret doing that, Eleanor Russell.’
When I got home, I sat down with my family and we tried to piece together what had just happened. After several hours of tears and speculation, we all reached the same awful conclusion – Samuel and Abi had probably cooked up the accusation out of sheer spite.
‘In which case,’ said Oliver, ‘the army will realise they have no evidence against him and let him go.’
‘But what if Bletchley (I couldn’t now call him by his first name, Samuel, because it was too friendly and familiar. And I accompanied his surname with a retching sound, for good measure) has planted some evidence?’
‘He doesn’t have the brains. He wouldn’t have thought that far ahead,’ reassured David.
‘No, but Robbins does.’ (Ditto the retching sound for Abigail).
‘They wouldn’t go that far, darling,’ Dad said. ‘Look, give it a week and I bet we’ll hear Connor’s van puttering up the Lane and he’ll be telling us all about his adventures. He’s a sensible lad. He’ll realise what’s happened and he’ll plead his case well.’
My family did a good job of trying to calm me down. They had known Connor and I were fond of each other, but it wasn’t until the previous night that they’d seen the true extent of my feelings towards him. I think my cries and tears had shocked them almost as much as his arrest had. I was so relieved they hadn’t believed Abigail Robbins’ ridiculous accusation and my brother Tom was almost as upset as I was. Connor was one of his best friends.
But Connor’s van didn’t come puttering up the lane any time during that week, and I could get no news of his whereabouts. My father called Samuel’s dad for me, but he said they’d had no news from their son and didn’t expect to hear from him until Christmas.
I knew I would have to swallow my pride and my hatred and go and visit Abigail once more. But the thought made me feel sick and I was afraid I would physically attack her if she so much as looked at me with that smug expression… But then I thought of Connor and knew I would do whatever it took to get him back and if that meant sucking up to Abigail, then so be it.
Chapter Twenty Seven
The black robed figures are flocking towards us. We realise, too late, that some parts of the wall are hollow in the middle. Now that the sun has risen higher, casting a stronger light, I can see odd bricks are missing here and there. Enough for the guards inside to look out and see what’s going on, while remaining undetected. They can probably see through to the outside in the same way.
‘Holy crap,’ says Luc.
‘Holy, is right,’ I reply.
As they glide closer, I can see their guns. There is absolutely no point in us running. There must be at least twenty of them, all with heavy metal crucifixes swinging over the top of their homespun cloaks. They surround us and the AV. Deep overhanging hoods conceal their features, giving the impression we’re being looked upon by a black sea of faceless creatures.
It is the most chilling sight I have ever seen in my life and to add to the terror, they are chanting in some unknown language. They don’t raise their weapons, but their chanting’s getting louder and more insistent, almost deafening. Suddenly they stop and the silence that ensues sounds worse than the eerie voices.
Two of them step forward and put us, unresisting, into arm and leg shackles which clink and rattle. They lead us away and we stumble across the courtyard, along pathways and across gardens, through corridors and into a huge echoing hall. I’m too shocked and afraid to think about exactly where we are headed.
They shepherd us through a bare ante chamber into a large, austere room. The walls and floor are of grey stone and the ceiling is high with a central circular metal pendant light. Small high windows stud the walls. It feels like a large cell. Morning has barely dawned, but Grey looks very much awake, sitting alone at the head of a large wooden refectory table set for breakfast. I know it’s him. Who else would it be?
‘Well.’ The man smiles at us down his patrician nose. He would be aristocratically handsome if it weren’t for his cold, dead blue eyes. ‘My new children,’ he smirks. ‘What? You don’t like my hospitality? Were your quarters not satisfactory?’ He laughs.
Luc looks down at his feet, his fists still clenched and his ears red with anger and humiliation. But I can’t take my eyes off this man. This bogeyman we have heard tales of for most of our sheltered lives. James Grey. How have we ended up here? Shackled and alone.
‘Were you looking for this?’ He picks up the AV keycard from the table and waves it in front of us. ‘You can’t have thought we’d have left this in its hiding place. That would have been remiss of us, wouldn’t it? And that’s quite a cache of weapons you have in there. I wonder what two such young ones are doing with such a fine vehicle and so much valuable cargo. Stolen I imagine.