The Three Most Wanted Page 27

  Bane knocked on my door. “Margo? How’re you getting on? I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, all of a sudden.”

  Wiping my eyes again, I went out to join him. He was clean and tidy and he’d got rid of the beard. He looked a little odd without it. Not quite like his old self, even allowing for the hollow cheeks now on stark display. Older, his gaze steadier. I could tell he noticed my red eyes.

  “The truck got me too,” I said, smiling. “I think it’s a nice sort of truck, really, called total and overwhelming relief.”

  We cuddled up on the sofa and watched the news. Our escape from EuroBloc territory featured already. Major Everington’s sentencing was set for the twenty-eighth of November, the best part of two months’ time. A Spanish schoolgirl had fallen into the Tiber and had to be rescued…

  ...My head lay in Bane’s lap. I turned to look up at him. He was playing absently with my hair and gazing out the window into the courtyard. He’d switched the TV off.

  “Not asleep? Are you made of the same stuff as the rest of us?”

  He flashed me a smile. “Just thinking. I’ve an idea niggling at me. Wonder what the powers-that-be here would think.”

  “Yes...?”

  “All that talk back in Milan about pricking consciences. You’re right. That’s what’s needed. Then I was thinking about Juwan. He felt so guilty. So did François. How many people are feeling guilty right now across the EuroGov, because we proved it was possible to save a reAssignee, if you really wanted it enough?”

  “Probably rather a lot. But they’ll be soothing their consciences with the not unfair observation that you had a Resistance cell to call on for help.”

  “Exactly. So we should do it again. On our own.”

  ***+***

  23

  THREE CHOICES

  “Again?” I echoed.

  “Several more times. Empty more Facilities. Prove it’s not a one off. Prove it’s possible.”

  “Without the Resistance?”

  “With the right weapons—nonLethals—we wouldn’t need them.”

  “If we do it, we may inspire a whole load of people to do the same. Not all of them non-violently.”

  Bane shrugged. “We just have to set an example and not worry about other people’s decisions.”

  I sat up and rested elbows on knees, chin on hands, trying to think, a ball of ice in my gut. We’d just got here. Finally we were safe. And Bane was talking about going into danger again… “Thought you wanted to run off to Africa and have a quiet life?”

  He grimaced and didn’t meet my eyes.

  Pushing away the selfish fear, I tried to consider his idea more objectively. Not just consciences, it’d also give hope. I couldn’t forget François’s desperation. He’d made a deal with the devil because he had no hope. Parents who’d lost a child in the past might feel guilt, but every parent with a child in a Facility or likely to end up there would feel a tiny, insuppressible glimmer of hope.

  And just like that, Sorting would no longer be silently accepted. A parent secretly hoping their child might live wasn’t a parent silently acquiescing to the system. More a person primed, as time ran out—since we couldn’t possibly get everywhere—to take matters into their own hands.

  With parents seizing—or even attempting to seize—their children back from the EGD, it’d be very hard for society to turn a blind eye to the murder that had been going on silently for so long. Of course, the EuroGov would clamp down on the parental attempts. But that would spread additional pain and loss to the parents, grandparents, great-grandparents and siblings of those executed, and to their other child…

  “I don’t know, Bane. Even if we managed not to get caught ourselves—people would copy us, and a lot of them would. ”

  “You really think it’s worse for a bunch of parents to get executed for doing the right thing than for them to sit back and let their children die, then spend the rest of their life trying to forget what they did?”

  “Well…” I stared at the crucifix on the wall opposite—just hung up there, openly… Bane was right, of course. And... could this idea turn a doubtful into a maybe?

  “Anyway,” added Bane, “Adults have far, far more close relationships than the average preKnown or Borderline. The more they punish the parents, the more other people are unhappy, then they have to be punished, then their loved ones are unhappy. It’s exactly the vicious circle the EuroGov try so hard to avoid. Ripples on a pond—they get bigger. Might not be an entirely bad thing.”

  Orphaned children—real conscience-pluckers. Horrible thought. Yet it was no choice at all, really. Do the right thing, regardless of the cost. Or sit back and let evil continue. In the long term, only the first would do any good.

  “Well, perhaps you should think about it a bit more and find out who to speak to.”

  “Umm.” Bane slipped his arms around me and I cuddled close. Soon my eyes closed again.

  We were woken by the phone. Jon was awake. Clutching a map, we ventured out and found our way back to the hospital without attracting too large a crowd.

  “I thought there’d be more people here in Vatican State,” said Bane, as we headed along the hospital corridor. “Several thousands, literally as many as could fit in. But there doesn’t look to me more than a few hundred.”

  “I always heard the population was almost three thousand. They must be around somewhere. How many more people d’you want following us around, anyway?”

  “Hah, that’s true. Ah, Jon, mate, are you okay?”

  Jon’s head turned on the pillows. “I’m fine. Are you two all right?”

  “Fine, Jon,” I said. Bane grinned.

  “Yep, the EuroArmy are such bad shots they can only hit the slowest-moving target, y’know.”

  “Thanks,” muttered Jon, then spoiled it by smiling too. “Can’t believe we made it.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed. “I think it’s still sinking in. Wait till you see our new place: they let us have a family suite for now. We have a bedroom each, a little kitchen, a bathroom and a sitting room.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice.” Bane sat on the other side of the bed. “And we don’t worry about rent or bills or anything, they just find us something we’re good at to do and it’s all sorted.”

  “Great,” yawned Jon. “Though I’m only going to be good at sleeping for a while…”

  Bane moved the bedside phone so Jon could reach it and wrote our number on the pad, reciting it to him. “Call us when you wake up again, okay? I’ve written it here in case you forget—get a nurse to read it to you.”

  “Okay,” murmured Jon, and started snoring softly.

  We met Father Mark in the passage. “How’s Jon?”

  “Asleep again. But he seems okay,” I said.

  “Yeah, stronger than I expected,” said Bane. “Last time he got shot he hung around at death’s door for ages and scared us half to death.”

  “You make it sound like it’s a regular occurrence.”

  “He’s threatening to make it one.”

  “Well, that’s done with, I hope, and it’s time for lunch. Then there’s a meeting, at which your presence is requested, if you’re up to it.”

  “We’re fine,” said Bane, as we followed Father Mark. “What’s it about?”

  “Well, practically everyone who holds a job of any importance whatsoever wants to know everything you have to tell them about pretty much your entire exploit, from start to finish.”

  “Ah, a debriefing.” Bane nodded knowingly.

  “That’s the idea. It will probably take all afternoon, so don’t be too quick to say you’re fine.”

  “Are you fine, Margo?” asked Bane.

  “Me? Fine. We just slept for half the morning, Father Mark.” Okay, so we’d been bouncing around in a jeep all night, but still… If anything we had to say would be useful to anyone, the sooner the better.

  “It was on the news already that we got here,” I remarked, after a moment. “I imagine the Eur
oGov are pretty mad.”

  “Yes.” But Father Mark immediately changed the subject. “Do you like your apartment?”

  There it was again. Everyone so pleased to see us, so genuinely delighted at our arrival and yet... an undercurrent of edginess… Why?

  “Yes, we were telling Jon about it!” Bane gave a slight, self-deprecating smile. “Um… if you’d seen how we’ve been living since we last saw you, you’d know why it’s such a thrilling topic of conversation...”

  Father Mark just laughed, cassock swinging as he strode ahead to open the canteen door.

  “Y’know,” commented Bane as he passed, “I don’t usually think men and dresses should mix, but that thing suits you.”

  “That’s because it’s not a dress,” said Father Mark imperturbably.

  “You should’ve worn it back home.”

  “No, Bane, that’s called suicide, or the next thing to it. Cassocks are not allowed in EuroGov territory.”

  “You’re not completely stupid, then.”

  “Ah, I’ve missed that well-mannered charm of yours.”

  “And I’ve missed your sermonizing. Oh, wait, I had Margo and Jon along…”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  We managed to slip into the queue and get our food from the window ourselves this time. The canteen was quite full, but Bane was right, still only a few hundred people.

  “So who is everyone?” I asked Father Mark.

  “Oh, these are all people who do fairly important jobs, though the Papal Council and some others have been in meetings ever since you arrived—the Papal Council are having a working lunch prior to the, ah, debriefing, in fact. Eduardo will be with them, and Sister Eunice as well. There’s Father Simeon, though…”

  “The doorkeeper!”

  Father Mark grinned. “No, the Sacristan, he just happened to be in the right place at the right time!”

  “I can’t wait to go to Mass in Saint Peter’s.”

  “Daily Mass is at eight in the morning, I’ll come by your place, shall I?”

  “I’ll have Bane ready and waiting.”

  “Good luck with that.” Bane gave me a mock scowl. Then it became slightly more genuine. “There’s Doctor Frederick over there…”

  It’d certainly take more tact than the good doctor possessed to get Bane to an anger management counselor. Wasn’t sure what would, actually.

  We ate in silence for a while. Some people still came up to our table to greet us and wish us well, but with the first flush of excitement over, it’d clearly occurred to most people that we might not want an adoring crowd following our every move.

  Habit-spotting in the canteen was great fun. There was every variation of brown, white, black, blue and even green like Sister Eunice. A lot of the priests’ cassocks had purple or red piping and sashes. The lay people dressed as plainly as most non-city dwellers—fashion was for the rich, after all—but with a peculiar mix of national variations. No guards were present: they probably had a mess hall of their own.

  “Okay?” Father Mark glanced at his watch as a clock struck two o’clock.

  “Time to go?” I asked.

  “If you’ve had enough.”

  “We’ll live. Hmm, Bane?”

  “Coming.”

  Everyone watched us go, of course.

  We traversed another maze of passages and staircases, and finally came to a door guarded by two more Swiss Guards. Their uniform, now I looked more closely, was of a more modern cut than in the old pictures I’d seen, but still in those bright distinctive colors. They checked our pass cards before letting us in.

  The room was set up with seating facing a stage, on which stood just a few seats. Uh oh, were Bane and I going to be occupying those? A cluster of people milled around, but not enough to fill all the chairs—the Papal Council still at their working lunch? As I turned towards the wonderful painted scenes on the walls, a voice sang out, “Oh, Margo?”

  I spun around, my eyes skidding over the people and fixing on a tall, broad shouldered, cassocked young man, a few years older than me.

  “Kyle?” Sending chairs spinning out of my path, I tore across the room and flung myself into his arms. “Kyle, you’re alive!”

  “You say that to me in such a tone of surprise?” he laughed, picking me up and spinning me around in a full circle. “Look at you, little sis, all grown up and saving the world!”

  “Hardly saving the world,” I mumbled, laughing and crying into his shoulder.

  “Well, making a start.” He rested his head against mine and rocked me from side to side, half joy, half comfort. “How’s Mum and Dad?”

  “Fine when I last saw them. By now? I don’t know.”

  “Umm. Oh, hello you, still getting my sister into trouble, I see?”

  “Actually, she got me into this,” said Bane from behind me.

  “You sent me the leaflet,” I pointed out.

  “You failed Sorting.”

  “Fair enough. It’s all my fault.”

  “Well, I’m glad you were there to help her,” said Kyle, in a more serious tone than he used to use with Bane.

  “So do I call you Father, now?” I stepped back and looked him up and down. It’d been over three years since I’d seen him.

  His cheeks went slightly red. “Well, I’m just a deacon, as yet. Through some mischance I got elected Deaconal Representative so I had to stay to come along to things like this. Though this one I don’t mind hearing. Save you telling it twice!”

  “Do you know if Jon’s sister made it here? Anne Revan, felt the call to the Anchoresses?”

  Kyle spread his hands. “D’you know how many people pass through here in a year? You need to ask an official record keeper.”

  I should’ve asked Eduardo. Later, then.

  Kyle’s gaze rose over my head and he bowed. So did everyone else.

  I turned... an elderly man dressed all in white was approaching me, his red shoes tapping over the stone floor. I knelt hastily. The man—perhaps seventy?—came right up to me and took my hand. I just managed to place a kiss on his ring before he drew me to my feet with surprising strength.

  “Please, please, stand, these stone floors are not good for the knees.” His eyes twinkled at me. “So you are the girl who has set the entire EuroBloc on its ear, eh?”

  My cheeks burned. “I just wrote a book, your Holiness.”

  “I’ve read it. It’s very good. I have rarely been so relieved as earlier this morning when they told me you had arrived at last. I have been praying for your safety daily.”

  My cheeks were surely going to catch fire! “Thank you, your Holiness. I think we needed it.”

  “Well, we shall hear all about it. Forgive me for not greeting you earlier. I wished to give you a chance to settle in.”

  “That’s very kind of you, your Holiness.”

  He smiled, then turned to Bane and offered him his hand. Bane gave a slight bow and shook it.

  “Bane,” said the Pope in English, “would you prefer English? I do not get to speak my earthly native tongue much.”

  “Actually, sir, I think I’d better practice my Latin,” said Bane, in that language.

  “Ah. True. Well, we are very glad you brought yourself and your friend and your beautiful wordsmith to this roost. And at least forty-four others owe you their lives.”

  Bane bit his lip and went faintly pink himself. “I just did it for Margo, sir. And it was entirely a joint effort.”

  “Well, it was well done, both of you,” said Pope Cornelius III. “Shall we begin?”

  Someone stepped forward and began directing people to seats. His Holiness sat in the front row. Bane, Father Mark and myself, as I’d feared, were on the little stage with a touch-typist and a sister who was apparently going to help keep the narration on track. Beside the stage sat a laywoman at a bank of recording equipment. Clearly no one wanted us to have to repeat the whole thing over and over. Jon could tell his version when he was better.

  Everyon
e else had taken their places. A brief silence. Bane and I exchanged looks. Were we just supposed to start? Where?

  “Introductions? Then shall we start right at the beginning?” suggested the sister. “Margaret failing her Sorting?”

  I glanced at Bane again. “Yes, that’d probably be the beginning…”

  The door opened and Eduardo slid into the room like a shadow. He put a piece of paper in the Holy Father’s hand; whispered in his ear. The old man let out a long sigh and bowed his head for a moment. His expression, when he stood and mounted the steps, was sober.

  “I fear we will have to postpone this meeting. The Vatican Free State has just received an ultimatum from the EuroGov. If by six o’clock this evening we do not hand over the three fugitives who early this morning crossed our borders, the EuroArmy will immediately occupy this State and make it part of the EuroBloc.”

  My ears rang. I struggled to comprehend what I’d just heard. Ultimatum. EuroGov. Three fugitives. Occupy…

  “Can they do that?” My voice sounded strange, high and thin.

  Eduardo raised his eyebrows. “Legally or practically? Legally, no. Practically? If we send every able-bodied adult to the walls with every nonLee, pike and halberd we possess, we might keep them out for an hour, no more.”

  “But… why haven’t they done this before!”

  “Dear me, girl,” said a very elderly cardinal, who’d been seated on the Pope’s right—Cardinal Hans, had they said? “Governments can’t go around seizing other states without the international community tut-tutting at them and the EuroGov do so love being all legal. So they’ve simply blockaded us and made our existence as difficult as they possibly can. But we’ve always known if ever we had something they wanted enough, they’d take us over in a heartbeat and to hell with the tut-tutting. Well, we have something they want now.”

  He raised a hand and pointed at me.

  Any remaining blood left my cheeks.

  “We have only three choices,” said Pope Cornelius. “Hand over the three most wanted, evacuate, or be occupied—and dismantled.”

  Bane’s arm was suddenly around me; his other hand disappeared inside his jacket.

  “The first,” went on the Holy Father, “is quite out of the question. The third is unattractive in the extreme, which only leaves the second.”