That’s right, yeah. The Miracle.
So he gathered a huge following very quickly and then one day he and a gang of his followers walked into my territory and said hello. I think his acolytes were supposed to intimidate us. They were all dressed in army surplus and carrying shotguns.
They nearly wet themselves when they realised who we were.
He didn’t, though. He stayed very cool.
So I let him talk. Gave him dinner at Number 10, allowed him make his pitch. I needed allies, after all. He showed me the broadcast and I was impressed. I didn’t think this Abbot guy was the new messiah but I could see how people could want to believe he was.
I wasn’t convinced they were a real force, though. I mean, a bunch of religious nutters run by a Yank didn’t seem like much of a threat to Operation Motherland. But then, after dinner, the Yank took me down into the cellars of Number 10. There was a door down there that I’d not been able to breach. The keypad was still active, run by some distant power source, and I’d had no joy with the code.
But this guy knew it. That’s when I really started paying attention. I asked him who he was, but he just smiled. To this day he’s never told me, but he must have been CIA, probably based here before The Cull. He knew all sorts of crazy shit, let me tell you.
The bunker down there is pretty extensive, with lots of comms equipment. He took me to an office, which I think was the PM’s retreat in the event of a major attack, and said to pick up the red phone on the desk.
I did so, and after a second’s silence I heard someone saying my name.
The voice at the end of the phone said he was the president, that he was working with the Abbot, and that they had managed to restore rule of law. He wanted to know if I was the de facto PM so of course I said yes.
Long story short, he had a proposal for me. If I would start exporting children to the US, he would send their army to back me up.
Now, look at this from my position. On one hand, I have a power base but no power, and the British Army knows where I am and is almost certainly getting ready to come and flush me out. On the other, I’m being offered the support of an entire army that will do as I say as long as I provide them with the resource they require. Can you think of anyone better suited to round up the kids and ship them abroad? I mean, it’s kind of top of my CV, isn’t it?
So I told the president about Operation Motherland. Where they were and what they were doing. I told him if he wanted my help, he would have to eliminate them first.
He put me in touch with Blythe in Iraq and the rest you know. I realised that once Kennett was out of the way, I would have to deal with Blythe, but at least initially he’d be on my side. I’d have time to work out a strategy to deal with him.
And then, hallelujah, the Yanks took out Kennett and his forces, but managed to get themselves wiped out in the process. I’m not ashamed to say I did a little jig when I heard about the nuke. Couldn’t believe my fucking luck. The biggest single threat to my power base had been neutralised and there was no fallout.
Well, not for me, anyway. Ha ha.
At that point I could have told the president to go fuck himself, but the thing was I kind of enjoyed being back in the trafficking business. It gave me something to do, and it meant that my sphere of influence spread. People started to become afraid of me, to respect me and my forces. Me and the Yank still work together. He takes care of the religious stuff — brainwashing the plebs and spreading the word — while I take care of logistics and manpower.
Pretty much the entire territory inside the M25 is mine now, and soon we’ll start moving outside. I actually had your school down as my first port of call. Once I’ve dealt with a little problem in Hammersmith tomorrow, maybe we’ll take a trip there together.
What? Oh, didn’t I say?
How do you think the Abbot stays alive? Blood transfusions, Kate. Daily. Fresh, young, healthy blood from universal donors.
He’s basically a vampire.
And Britain is his blood bank.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“ATTACKING THAT CONVOY had seemed like such a good idea at the time,” said Caroline, shaking her head in frustration. “This is like herding cats.”
The army that she’d accumulated during the previous year were pretty well drilled. They followed orders and knew when to shut up. The hundred or so kids that they’d released from the convoy, on the other hand, were a gaggle of confused, impulsive, homesick brats with snotty noses and bad attitudes. Trying to smuggle them out of the city without drawing attention would have been hard enough, but doing so while they fought, cried, wandered off or kept nipping into abandoned buildings in search of a bed, was driving her nuts. She had to keep reminding herself not to be to angry. They were hungry and tired, and it was a freezing cold night.
While she mostly managed to keep a lid on her anger, her fear was growing unchecked. They needed to get a move on. It would be dawn in an hour and they weren’t far enough away from their old nest yet. The trail would be fresh and easy to follow. The churchies had jeeps and helicopters. It had taken Caroline six hours to move the kids about a mile north; it would take their pursuers two minutes to cover the same distance.
“Luke,” she called. The gangly teenage boy who served as her lieutenant was at her side in an instant. He was a year older than her but he was puppy dog loyal and hard as nails. “I want you to take Andrew, Melissa and Lizzie, and scout ahead. Find us somewhere to hole up. Somewhere defensible, okay?”
He nodded, gathered up the other three kids and ran to the end of the road, scanning for activity, then ducking out of sight. They were travelling parallel to the main road out of Hammersmith, using the residential side roads as cover. The idea had been to go north ’til they crossed the M25, then swing west and circle round until they were above Kent before heading south to the school. At this rate, she realised, it would be a death march. She was rapidly coming to the conclusion that they would have to find somewhere safe to stay out of sight while a couple of them made the journey. That way the school could send a lorry to collect the kids. That is, if the school was still there. Caroline was sure that Matron had given up their Hammersmith base, what if she had given up the school too? She dismissed the thought, not because she didn’t think it likely, but because there was nothing she could do about it. If the school was gone, she decided, they’d just have to go to ground in the countryside. There’d be plenty of places to disappear.
Those kids who’d been with her for a while were trying to keep the new arrivals quiet as they neared the street corner. Caroline was in front, gun at the ready, when she heard a single shot echo back to her from the road ahead. She spun around waving frantically, indicating for the kids to scatter. Her ‘soldiers’ immediately began shushing the kids and herding them into the abandoned houses. In one minute the street was empty, the fear of imminent discovery managing what she’d been trying for hours to achieve — keeping the little brats quiet so she could think. She could see the pale faces of her guys at the doorways of the houses they’d taken shelter in, standing guard, waiting for her to make a move.
She gripped the gun tightly and ran to the pavement, pressing herself into the shadows and creeping forward so she could peer round the corner into the next road.
Her heart sank as she saw a pair of dual-cab pickups on the road, their roof-mounted spotlights picking out her four friends, who were down on their knees with their hands behind their backs. Each vehicle carried a team of four heavily armed men, three of whom were advancing with their guns trained on the captives. The road was wide and open, and the cars and kids were in the middle of a huge junction, providing almost no cover. She couldn’t get close to them without being seen by the two men who were standing in the open backs of the vehicles, scanning the area for possible attack.