It was now half past three, and Lugless AY-002 and I were sitting in his Cadillac Eldorado on the opposite side of the road from the post office.
‘Where are you now, Fudd One?’ asked Lugless, who was wearing an eyepatch and a large tartan tam-o’-shanter stuffed with newspapers to disguise his earless state.The officer in question reported that he was across the street from the post office, standing in the doorway of a shop that repaired light bulbs. All the Compliance Officers were deployed in various places in the locale, either drinking acorn coffee at a sidewalk café, having an animated conversation on a mobile or simply waiting out of sight, ready to amble past and pounce when Flopsy 7770 made his move.
‘Copy that,’ said Lugless into his mic, acknowledging a message from Sergeant Boscombe that a Labstock carrying a briefcase was approaching from the north. Lugless checked his watch, then asked the officer tailing the post office van for an ETA. We received the reply that the van was still twenty minutes away. Having acknowledged both reports, Lugless then dug a carrot out of a brown-paper bag and crunched it up noisily.
‘So,’ I said, trying to ignore the carrot-munching, ‘you’re an AY-002?’
‘Yup,’ said Lugless, neither wanting nor expecting to expand upon the subject.
Since he carried the alphanumeric surname he would be descended from the three laboratory rabbits anthropomorphised at the Event. The DG-6721s were the most numerous with the MNU-683s not far behind. They all suffered ongoing health issues owing to experimentation pre-Event, aside from the AY-002s, whose ancestor, to their constant shame, had been a ‘control rabbit’ in the lab and subjected to no tests at all, something that gave them huge residual guilt that often manifested itself in antisocial behaviour. That, in itself, wasn’t enough to justify cropping. Lugless must have done something seriously unpleasant. Either improper sexual conduct or doing what he was doing now. Rabbits despised a collaborator as much as they despised those who extracted favours by coercion.
We sat for another five minutes in silence.
‘Am I here on some sort of test?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ said Lugless without looking up from the crossword he was attempting. ‘Are you?’
‘I was on the Dylan Rabbit arrest detail,’ I said. ‘The Senior Group Leader wanted me to concur on an ID and I wasn’t sure but was overruled. But I was right after all, and the shit hit the—’
‘Is there a point to this story?’ asked Lugless. ‘Because you’re getting kind of whiny and self-pitying in that uniquely human way.’
‘I guess not,’ I said, ‘but an innocent rabbit was jugged because I didn’t stand my ground, and I thought that was a good—’
‘Look,’ said Lugless, ‘there are no innocent rabbits. There are simply those who have drifted into criminality, and those that will. You heard Whizelle and Flemming: there is an extremely good chance that the rabbit community might be planning to kick off a LitterBombing campaign that will outnumber Fudds in this green and pleasant land by at least three to one in under five years. Do you want to be outnumbered in your own country?’
‘Well, no, obviously.’
‘Right, then,’ said Lugless, ‘so why don’t you shut your trap, do the spotting that a quirk of fate has bestowed upon you, and leave broad strategy to Nigel Smethwick and the Senior Group Leader?’
I fell silent. The notion of Reproductive Weaponisation had been the pet conspiracy theory of UKARP for over three decades, but given the rabbit had been here fifty-five years and barely numbered a million, ‘commendable restraint’ would be a more realistic appraisal of their reproductive habits.16
My earpiece crackled into life.
‘Flopsy 7770 with you in one minute,’ came the voice of Boscombe, followed by a report that the post van was heading into the town centre to do the teatime pick-up. Lugless shuffled in his seat and peered intently up the road, as did I, and within a short time a Labstock rabbit turned the corner and walked towards the postbox with the curious gait that anthropomorphic rabbits possessed – upright and on two legs but with an uncertain and almost comical waddle. He was holding a leather briefcase that was chained to his wrist and dressed in a practical tweed shooting jacket over a checked shirt and tie. Perched between his ears at a jaunty angle was a matching flat cap.
‘Recognise him?’ asked Lugless.
‘No.’
‘Me neither. Get out there for a closer look.’
Although Labstocks were the hardest to ID, up close it often became easier – the wrinkles on the nose, a distinctive mark on the iris, whisker placement. If I manoeuvred down-sun of him I could view the capillaries in his ears for later reference, but I’d have to be lucky with my timing – the sun had been in and out all day.
I swung a leather satchel around my shoulder and placed a flat cap on my head. Since rabbits were as poor at identifying humans as the average human was at identifying them, they took cues from clothing and manner, so RabCoT agents either affected an odd walk, or, more usually, disguised themselves as regional or cultural stereotypes. I had opted to pose as a Yorkshireman. For the next half-hour I’d be Eric Althwaite, a mill worker from Harrogate.
I climbed out of the car, popped the live whippet under my arm to augment my disguise and, clasping several postcards, walked across the road in a confident manner, telling random passers-by I was from Yorkshire.17 Flopsy 7770 was already waiting at the postbox, and I wended my way through the pedestrians – nearly all rabbits – who were either lolloping, walking or half-hopping along the street. I was feeling nervous as perhaps never before, but knew I couldn’t make it show. The future of my career and earning potential was weighing heavily upon me. I needed to get this right.
My timing was quite good because I could see the bright red post van driving down the road towards us. If Flopsy 7770 was nervous, he didn’t show it. He didn’t check his watch, didn’t turn to observe the van approach, didn’t seem to do anything at all, in fact – just stood there in a relaxed manner, his nose twitching, his expression blank. Annoyingly, there weren’t enough distinguishing marks for me to recognise him if I saw him again, so I moved closer and bought some stamps from the vending machine, then nonchalantly stuck them on my postcards. At that moment the sun came out, and I turned to look at the Flopsy, thinking my luck had changed, but it hadn’t – the post van had placed itself in between the sun and the Labstock. Unless he moved forward, I would not be able to see the fine network of veins in his ears. I could sense the other agents near by, too – dressed variously as a Village Person, a Pearly King and a Scotsman – and ready to grab him the moment the postman unlocked the pillar box and the Flopsy made to deposit his satchel of post. But as I watched, something unusual happened. Three more Labstocks appeared from nowhere, all similar heights and build and dressed identically with briefcases also chained to their wrists. Lugless’s plan had been compromised: the Underground had been taking precautions. They probably knew that a snatch squad typically had three agents – even if they could arrest three they’d not manage four – and all were Labstock to confound any potential Spotters.
I heard Lugless swear in my earpiece, and then the order:
‘Take them. Take them all.’
The agents made to arrest the Labstocks, which could have a very different outcome if the rabbits decided to bring violence into the mix – a kick from the hind legs would be powerful enough to break bones and rupture internal organs, as well as catapult the victim at speed through a shop window, while a well-aimed bite would be fatal in as long a time as it takes to bleed out.