“Not single-handedly, no. I had an eleven-year-old boy helping me. But essentially, yeah.”
“And how did you do that, exactly?”
“We nuked the fuckers.”
“You nuked the fuckers.”
“Yup.”
He stared deep into my eyes. I stared back and smiled.
“You know,” he said. “I almost believe you. And this is how you go about killing bad guys, is it? You wander into their bases with some stupid plan and get yourself captured?”
The soldiers standing around us sniggered.
“Um, actually yeah, it kind of is.”
And then what do you? Manufacture some miraculous escape? Call in the cavalry? Light the Bat-signal?”
More laughs.
“No, I just wait.”
“For?”
“A mistake.”
He leaned in close ’til I could feel his hot breath on my face. “I don’t make mistakes, kid.”
He held my gaze for a moment then asked: “So how do you know Kate? No, wait, let me guess. You’re one of the boys from St Mark’s, yes?”
I nodded.
“I used to go to school there,” he said. Which teachers survived The Cull?”
“Bates and Chambers.”
“Didn’t know Bates. Liked Chambers, though. Maybe I’ll have him over for dinner once I’ve taken the school.”
I shook my head. “Nah, he died a while back.”
“Pity. Where is the school now, by the way? I sent a team there last year and it was just a burnt out wreck.”
“We’re somewhere you’ll never find us.”
“I could torture you. You’d tell us eventually.”
“I was waterboarded in Iraq, pal. Bring it on.”
Again he laughs. “Iraq, now? I can’t decide if you’re a superhero or a fantasist or both. You’re certainly entertaining, I’ll give you that. Final question: how long have you and Kate been together?”
“If you mean Jane, she’s my Matron and that’s all.”
“She may be Jane when she’s at school, but here she’s Kate. Trust me on that. And you’re lying, but I don’t hold it against you. I should probably keep you alive, use the threat of killing you to make her tell me where the school is. But something tells me that you’re more dangerous than you seem. So, firing squad at dawn, I reckon.”
I just smiled at him. Our part of the plan might have failed, but if Tariq and the others kept to their schedule, they’d be here before dawn. I looked sideways and saw the snow falling through a far off window and bit my lip.
“Dear God, you’re amateur,” said Cooper as I glanced back at him. “Never played much poker, did you?”
He stood up then and turned to one of his soldiers.
“These two aren’t the whole story. There’s someone else coming, another attack. They’re supposed to be here by dawn, but he’s worried they won’t make it because of the snow. Spread the word to be ready.”
Cooper looked down at me contemptuously. “I used to be a copper, lad. I know all the tells.”
He turned to Ferguson. “And you, Green Arrow, what’s your story?”
Ferguson didn’t say a word, he just stared straight ahead, jaw clenched tight.
“Smart man,” said Cooper after a moment’s silence. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’re one of these Rangers I’ve been hearing reports about. I think you’ve teamed up with these school runts. Quite the little power base. My question is this: is the next attack your lot?”
Ferguson stayed silent.
Cooper clapped his hands once, as if about to sum up at the end of a staff meeting. “Right then. Lock the boy up. Take the man and start chopping bits off him until you find out everything you can about his organisation. When Kate gets back, bring her to me. Double the patrols and issue extra ammunition.”
He turned his back on us and walked away.
“I’m off to bed,” he said cheerily. “I want to be fresh for the firing squad.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CAROLINE FELT LIKE crying.
She’d spent so long fighting these bastards, trying to keep the children safe, trying to avoid ending up exactly where she was now — locked up, weaponless, powerless, cattle waiting to be shipped to the slaughter.
When the lorry had come to a halt she’d given the order for the kids to get their weapons out and be ready. They’d crouched there in the dark waiting for the back of the container to open, ready to pour out and finally take their revenge. But when the doors swung open she found herself staring down the barrels of about fifteen machine guns. She heard gasps and cries of alarm from the children ranged behind her. There was a moment of stillness during which Caroline was sure they were going to open fire, kill them all there and then. But the moment passed and one of the soldiers ordered them to get out one at a time and throw their weapons on the floor as they did so.
Caroline was at the front, so she got down first and tossed her gun on the ground. She was then frisked and sent to stand in the corner where she was covered by two guns. The children in both lorries went through the same procedure until they were all standing together, penned in, surrounded by guns.
She looked for the adults — Tariq, Wilkes, Green — but they were nowhere to be seen. They must have been taken away the second they arrived. She wondered if they’d been shot already. She tried to reassure the other children, but half of them were from St Mark’s and didn’t know who she was.
“Why should we listen to you?” sulked one boy, and she didn’t have an answer for him.
She wanted to tell them that all was not lost, that they were only half the attack and if they just held their nerve Lee, Ferguson and the kid with the limp would be coming to rescue them. But the soldiers could have overheard her, so she kept her mouth shut.
When the last of the children had been unloaded, the soldiers marched them up the stairs into the Palace of Westminster. They went down a narrow corridor lined with heavy wooden doors and were herded into a big room dominated by a series of tables arranged in a square. Each sitting had a computer screen mounted in it, so Caroline reasoned it was some kind of committee room.
When all the children had been crammed inside, one of the soldiers stepped forward to close the door.
“For you, Tommies, ze var is over!” he said as he pulled the door shut. She heard some of his colleagues laugh as the door slammed shut and the lock turned.
She turned to see her army. An hour ago they were a heavily armed bunch of feral kids ready to kill any adult they encountered. Now they were just a bunch of scared, powerless children, jostling for space in a too-small room.
Behind them, huge leaded windows reached to the ceiling. The first light of dawn broke over the buildings that ranged along the opposite bank of the river.
“UM, MILK, TWO sugars,” said Tariq. And then, instinctively, without thinking: “Thanks.”
Green flashed him an amused look. “Tariq, mate, they’re going to kill us. I don’t think we should be thanking them for putting sugar in our tea.”
Wilkes just glowered.
“Who said anything about killing you?” said the man who entered the room rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning. He turned to the soldier who was pouring tea for the prisoners. “Bill, did you say we were going to kill them?”
The soldier shook his head. “No, Sir.”
“Thought not. Carry on. Oh, and a tiny splash of milk and one sugar for me too, while you’re at it. Ta.”
The man sat at the head of the conference table and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands through his bed hair. He looked at Green. “You’re English, right? And you, your accent is… what?”