16
The man raised a hand and brushed a straggle of dark hair back from his forehead, baring a small white scar. “Hollywood myth that a bullet to the head is always fatal, Margaret. I may have wished I was dead over the last few months, but I’m as alive as you are, I promise—not even permanently harmed, praise the Lord.”
He certainly looked alive. Thin, face lined, voice tired, eyes haunted, but…alive.
“Father Mark!” I lurched forward to hug him—he leapt back skittishly, like a deer. I stopped abruptly. Where had he been? The same place as Lucas? Horror flooded through me. “You were alive? I’m so sorry, I just left you there!”
He stepped forward again with an apologetic smile, but spoke firmly. “I’m very glad you thought I was dead or you wouldn’t have left me, and I hear you and the rest of Animal team barely got away yourselves.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I really am fine. Had the best medical care Internal Affairs could provide,” said Father Mark bitterly.
“Really?” I frowned. “How come they didn’t execute you at once?”
“Because they identified me as that supposedly-dead Resistance jackal and thought I might be useful to them. Took them until now to accept it wasn’t going to happen. I’m fine, anyway. Well, the right-hand bit of my face doesn’t work quite the way it did, but no matter. I can still smile with the left side of my mouth.”
I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it until he said that, but it was true. His face did seem slightly…lop-sided. “What…what are you doing here? Did they just let you go?” After what I’d done yesterday? “They should’ve released you months ago!”
He grimaced. “An oversight. That’s the story they’re sticking to. Never mind, I’m free.”
I opened the door wider and shoved the nonLee back into my waistband. Carrying the gun on me whilst in my room at the embassy was the compromise I’d made with Eduardo, to give Sister Krayj some time off—and me some privacy with my husband.
Beckoning Father Mark in, I hurried over to Bane. Made sure to tread heavily on the floor and waft a hand past his cheek before touching his shoulder.
Only starting a little, he pulled out an earplug. “Margo! I’m slaying a dragon, here!”
“And doing a very good job, I’m sure. You know I’ve always fancied you as a dragon slayer.” As the initial shock wore off my heart felt near to bursting with joy. “But there’s someone here…”
Bane pulled out the other earplug and got straight to his feet, flushing slightly.
“It’s all right, it’s Father Mark: he’s not dead!”
“Not dead? But…we saw it!”
“Didn’t see what we thought we saw. Well, we did—he’s got the scar to prove it, but we jumped to the wrong conclusion!”
Bane’s brow wrinkled. Which was easier to believe, Father Mark alive or my having lost it?
“I’m alive, Bane,” confirmed Father Mark.
“Father Mark?” whispered Bane, still stunned. He stepped forward, arms held out—and Father Mark let him hug him. Huh. Bane really seemed more harmless than me, these days?
“Sit down, Father Mark. Did you need something to eat? There’s tons of leftovers downstairs. Coffee? We’ve got a kettle… You must’ve seen Eduardo, right? I’m going to ring Jon!” All the rooms in the embassy had internal phones.
Other than to give a nod to my Eduardo question, Father Mark didn’t try to get an answer in. He just sat down on the sofa with Bane. Jon came tearing in not long after my phone call, with Sister Krayj in tow, wide-eyed. Father Mark let them both hug him. I tried not to feel hurt. Perhaps I’d just moved too suddenly.
I made coffee and pulled out some of the snacks provided in each room and before long the Foxes showed up, cheering and punching Father Mark in the shoulder and soon most of Animal team was in our room and there was quite a party going on, although a few members were back at the Vatican, including Mr. Liar, liar, cassock on fire.
But soon enough it was twelve, and Eduardo appeared to chivvy everyone along. People scattered in all directions to frantically finish their interrupted packing, and we made it to the station only slightly late.
By the time we got on the train Father Mark looked rather exhausted by it all. Time to change the subject and give him a breather? I dispensed more coffee for everyone, from a thermos this time, and took the seat furthest from him, ’cause he really did seem a bit edgy around me. Could it be that his subconscious wasn’t quite so happy about my having left him behind?
“Did you get anything done on your talk, Jon?” I said.
“It was going okay when this wonderful distraction cropped up.”
“Are people very interested in the rediscovery of Braille, or is it just that, no offense, it’s Jonathan Revan telling them about it?” asked Sister Krayj.
“I think they’re actually interested. People have so many questions at the moment about what will happen if they do the right thing and give up the unlimited supply of organs, and this is an answer to one of those questions. If you lose your sight, you’ll still be able to read. And even write—I’ve got the engineering guys tinkering around with some old Braille typing devices I found in the archives, trying to get them working.”
He prodded Bane in the shoulder. “Basically, I’m trying to send the message that no disability is as limiting and as hopeless as the EuroGov would like you to believe. It would be really great if Bane could show up and take his share of the credit—preferably looking happy and healthy. Though not doing himself in is a really great start—that would not be a good illustration of the point I’m trying to get across.”
“Oh, nice to know you care,” sneered Bane, elbowing him in turn.
“Apart from the more obvious objections,” Jon added, elbowing back.
Father Mark was frowning in concerned enquiry.
“We’ve, uh, had a sticky patch,” I told him, “but, um, I think we’re through that now. Actually…” He was going to bump into Kyle pretty quickly. “Can we fill you in now or would you rather we kept it for another day?”
“No, go right ahead. Glad to hear it’s all past tense.”
I let Bane tell him most of it, which he managed to do, keeping his head down much of the time and his voice too low for Snail and Bee, on guard at each car door, to hear him. Sister Krayj listened emotionlessly. Father Mark winced and looked sympathetic at appropriate moments and didn’t jump up and punch Bane, but I’d not expected him to.
“Oh dear,” said Father Mark, when the sorry tale drew to its more cheerful conclusion. “Still, everyone in front of me looks pretty…happy and healthy now, so let’s be thankful for that.”
He ran a hand through his decidedly unhealthy-looking hair. “Actually…now it’s just you four, there is something I want to talk to you about.” A difficult subject, from the slight frown lines on his brow.
“Go on,” said Jon.
“Okay, well…you know I said they thought I might be useful?” He was keeping his voice low, too.
We all made ‘umhmm’ noises.
“Well, I think they spent most of the time, after putting my brain back together, trying to, well, I suppose the word is…program…me.”
I shivered. So the rumors were true.
“Did they manage it?” Bane suddenly sat up a lot straighter.
Sister Krayj went from relaxed cat to coiled spring, staring at Father Mark.
“No. Uh, well…” His hands were actually clenching together slightly, very un-calm behavior for him. “I really don’t think so.”
“What did Eduardo think?” Jon also had his ears turned very attentively in Father Mark’s direction.
Father Mark grimaced.
“You didn’t tell him, did you?” I said, dismayed. “Oh, Father Mark! That’s the sort of thing he’s got to know about!”
“What did you tell him?” asked Jon. “He’s not stupid, y’know.”
“Calm down,” said Father Mark. “I did tell him. I said how they’d tried and failed, so decided to release me as a big propaganda exercise to get some good press. That is why they let me go; it’ll be all over the news by now.”
“So…why were you pulling that face?” I asked.
He pulled that face again. “I just…well, I’m sure they didn’t manage it. Certain-sure. But…I remember one thing, one word, which I think they were trying to program into me as a trigger, and…I thought it might just be an idea to…test it. One of you say it and just…make absolutely sure nothing happens.”
“And what would happen?” asked Sister Krayj levelly.
Father Mark swallowed. “I’d try to kill Margaret.”
I swallowed too. If Father Mark, as a former trained assassin, ever came at me, there wouldn’t be any ‘try’ about it. And it wouldn’t just be me… My hand crept protectively to my stomach and I took it away quickly before anyone could notice.
“You should have told Eduardo,” said Sister Krayj softly.
“You shouldn’t have come anywhere near her!” snarled Bane, apparently ready to launch himself between us as a physical barrier.
“It’s safe!” Father Mark almost…pleaded. “I really am sure!”
How important was it to Father Mark to believe that he wouldn’t hurt me? Clearly important enough that he was prepared to hide a few tiny facets of the truth from even a trusted colleague.
“I think,” said Sister Krayj, “you’re right we should make certain. Let’s try this trigger word out and be done with it.”
Sister Krayj drew her nonLee, then stood me at one end of the car and Father Mark at the other, with herself standing near me.
“What’s going on?” asked Bee.
“Nothing to worry about,” she assured him—and Snail, who was frowning from the opposite door. “Okay, what’s the word?” she asked Father Mark.
Father Mark had gone a little pale. This test was clearly very important for his peace of mind. “Margaret’s parish. Margaret’s home town…”
Something sure to be mentioned in both our presences sooner or later.
Sister Krayj nodded, then said very clearly and deliberately, “Salperton.” Nothing happened, so she said, just to be thorough, “Salperton-under-Fell.”
Still nothing.
Everyone stood and waited for a bit longer. Bane’s frown began to ease slightly, and a faint smile of relief spread over Father Mark’s face.
“How do you feel?” asked Sister Krayj. “Any different?”
He shook his head. “No. I feel the same. Well, I just had to check.”
Sister Krayj casually slipped the nonLee into her pocket, still watching Father Mark intently. Again nothing happened, and she relaxed. “Well, you were right. But worth checking, yes.”
“Come on,” I said, “Let’s finish our coffee.”
Father Mark gave me a side-long look as he sat down again at the table. “Sorry, Margaret.”
“It’s not your fault. Though you should’ve told Eduardo you wanted to check it out.”
“That’s what I was apologizing for.”
“Look.” Sister Krayj gave him a gentle poke in the arm. “How about we slip along to his car in a minute and bring him up to speed, hmm? Get it in before Snail and Bee, at least,” she added dryly.
“You’re right. I should have before, I just…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I didn’t want to be shipped off on the next boat to Africa. Really wanted to see everyone.”
And you couldn’t allow yourself to believe they might have turned you back into a killer?
He emptied his cup in one last big swig, put it on the table and stood up. “I’ll go tell him. Coming, Pussycat?” he asked Sister Krayj. She nodded, and it felt a bit like we were on Liberations again, with the two of them second and third in command of the team.
“Ah…Eduardo expressed an intention to throw a blanket on the floor and sleep,” said Snail. “He was up all night supervising Margo’s new chef. Who I imagine is also asleep back there. Just tell him first thing tomorrow, oui? It’ll be late when we get home.”
“We promise we’ll let you speak to him first,” said Bee in his deep voice, still looking extremely suspicious about what had been going on. As well he might.
“I can hardly wait,” murmured Father Mark, making Sister Krayj snort slightly.
It was indeed late when the glittering lights of Rome appeared on the horizon. We murmured sleepy goodbyes and scattered to our respective accommodation blocks. Jon walked with us to the door of our apartment, though, and stepped inside for a moment. “Thank goodness that was a false alarm, earlier,” he said quietly. “D’you think Sister Krayj could’ve stopped him?”
“He obviously thought so,” said Bane. “I wouldn’t underestimate Sister Krayj.”
“And she had a nonLee,” I pointed out.
“Of course she did,” said Jon. “Oh dear, poor Father Mark. What a horrible thing to wonder about.”
“He should’ve told Eduardo,” snapped Bane, rather less sympathetically.
“Oh, come on, Bane,” I said. “He told him. Just left out that he thought it worth testing that one thing.”
“Kind of important one thing! What if you’d mentioned Salperton back at the embassy, before the others arrived?”
“He didn’t think anything would happen and it didn’t. You saw…witnessed…that. It’s just the sort of horrendous possibility that makes one ultra-paranoid, isn’t it?”
“S’pose.”
“Well, good night,” said Jon.
“Night, Jon.”
“Night, Jon.”
30 days
“Tony was a smart boy. We’re not just saying that, he won every prize at school. He was funny, too. Not one of these swotty kids. Everyone loved him. Everyone said he’d be the one to find the cure for metastasized cancer—you know, the type that’s spread too far to be fixed by a transplant. He’d have done it, too. But he went off to school on Sorting day, so excited that he’d soon be a New Adult—and he never came home. They said he had this tiny hole in his heart and they took him. We never saw him again.
People say to us all the time, what a waste, what a shame. And I say to them: it’s nothing to do with waste. That’s not why it’s wrong! It’s the fact that he was a good boy, an innocent boy who’d done nothing wrong, and he did not deserve to die!”
‘Mrs. N.’—quoted in a blog post on ‘The Impatient Gardener’
The first clock chimed two in the afternoon.
“What!” I looked up from my computer. “That can’t be the time!” I’d only opened it up to post a blog entry I’d prudently pre-written before I went away and to check what was what—but an absolute mountain of comments and flagged-up blog posts had greeted me. “I simply must go and see Lucas; he’ll think you accidentally left me in Brussels!”
“Oh, let’s have lunch first!” protested Bane.
Ah. Yes. Lunch had got forgotten too. “Okay, let’s throw some pasta together.”
Bane had been rather quiet this morning—not just, I feared, because I’d been so busy. Lord, please don’t let him get depressed again, now all the excitement of the trip is over. I suppose we’d all been on a bit of a high in Brussels and this was the come down.
The baby would cheer him up. But I didn’t really want to give him such news over a hasty bowl of pasta. It ought to be special. I’d cook a really nice dinner, for just the two of us, and then I’d tell him. But…I eyed my laptop glumly…it would have to wait another day or two.
Jon arrived when we’d almost finished eating, and I couldn’t help feeling relieved that I didn’t have to leave Bane alone. The way he’d been in Brussels, I wouldn’t even have thought about it, but…there was that quietness about him, this morning. And although so much had happened since, it was only just a week since he’d snapped out of that awful depression.
Jon was bursting to share something, I could tell.
“Fancy going along to the nonLee range, Bane?” he said, would-be casually.
Bane frowned, snorting in disbelief. “Uh, no. I can waste my time just as well right here.”
“Eduardo’s put in some new targets,” said Jon, rather smugly. “He figured out how to shield speakers from nonLee blast. So now the targets breathe…and chat…and shuffle their feet. You can even set how noisy you want them to be. Want to go and try them?”
My heart lifted as Jon spoke—what a fantastic idea of Eduardo’s!—then fell as Bane’s face went hard and closed.
“Not really,” said Bane shortly. “I’d have thought Eduardo would have had better things to do right now than pretending I’ll ever be anything other than a danger to others with a gun in my hand.”
Jon looked taken aback. “Well, right now, maybe. That’s the whole point of practicing!”
“You don’t need to practice,” said Bane. “We all know you could hit those targets. So why didn’t you come on the Liberations? Because you’d still have been a liability. And it doesn’t matter how much I practice, I’ll still be a liability too! So no thanks. I don’t want Eduardo’s pity!”
From the look on Jon’s face, he wanted to punch Bane. I kind of knew how he felt. But he just said, “Clearly you don’t need it. You seem to have plenty of self-pity of your own.”
Bane scowled but didn’t reply. Jon being Jon, he didn’t take himself off in a huff, thank goodness, and the subject was dropped, but it was almost three o’clock before I was heading for Lucas’s room.
I was still pleased when I ran into Father Mark and Sister Krayj. Together, so…just back from seeing Eduardo? Father Mark had looked so tired, he’d probably slept very late.
“Everything okay? Had your knuckles wrapped?”
“There was a certain amount of sarcasm,” said Father Mark, “but I’m forgiven.”
“Eduardo thought the test was both satisfactory and appropriate; he’d just have liked to know beforehand,” expanded Sister Krayj.
“No surprises there, then.”
“I have to see the shrinks, though,” said Father Mark rather glumly. “Get myself generally checked out.”
“Sounded like he’d told you that already,” said Sister Krayj.
“He had, but I thought it might not happen. No chance of that now.”
“Well, it’ll do you good,” I said. “Weren’t you the one always trying to get Bane to see them?”
“Hoisted by my own petard,” he muttered dryly. “Ah well, where are you off to?”
“I’m overdue to visit Lucas. Actually, you two would probably sympathize with each other a lot.”
“Uh, with whom?”
“Oh, they were pretty selective about what news they gave you, I take it? Lucas Everington. He turned up here alive a bit over a month and a half ago. You’re in a heck of a lot better shape than he is, thank goodness, but he is recovering slowly.”
Father Mark looked understandably surprised by this information. “That man survived? Well, well.”
“If we let Margo get to him before he goes on hunger strike again, I’ll bring you up to date,” said Sister Krayj.
Lucas opened the door almost the moment I knocked and looked decidedly relieved to see me.
“Hi, Lucas, I’m sorry I didn’t get here earlier. My blog has gone insane after what happened the evening before last. Did you see it?” Unicorn had said he’d make sure Lucas had a TV for the debate.
Lucas nodded, eyeing me rather intently. “You…forgave…assassin?”
“Well, I’m certainly doing my best.” Georg Friedrich had been smuggled out of the Vatican before I was even out of bed this morning. He’d be on route to Africa by now, and his new life as, no doubt, prison cook.
“Look…happy.”
Huh? “Well, I am really glad the Lord showed me how to save him. But something else happened as well, something wonderful but totally unexpected. We’ve got a dear friend back from the dead.”
He turned his head slightly to one side—oh, trying to figure out if I meant…
“Not literally, it’s not the Last Day. It just feels like he’s back from the dead, ’cause we thought he was dead and it turns out he isn’t.”
Lucas thought about that. “Very happy?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Never mind late.” He offered me the Office book. Office first, chat later. Probably stressed after the last three days.
By the time I’d finished reading, he seemed much more relaxed. We talked about one of his plants for a bit; he’d been worried about it before we left, then he asked about my back-from-the-dead friend, so I told him all about it. “…And there isn’t anything wrong, and we’ve got Father Mark back, so it’s wonderful!”
Lucas didn’t look as though he thought it was wonderful. He caught my wrist and spoke intently. “Be careful.”
“Be careful? Of what, of Father Mark? He’s not going to hurt me, Lucas. We tested it.”
Lucas shook his head; he looked very unhappy indeed. “No one knew he was alive?”
“No. Well, only the EuroGov.”
“And they let him go? Not kill him?”
“For good press, Lucas.”
Lucas bit at his lip, frowning in the way that said he was trying to remember something. “Mark. Priest. Mark…I know this name. Former dismantler trainee, then Resistance assassin, now priest? Mark Tarrow?”
I blinked. “Yes, that’s his full name. That’s him.”
“They ask me much about him. Want me to say I arrange with him…the escape. They hate this… Mark Tarrow.”
I frowned. I suppose they would, if they’d identified him—clearly they had. “Makes sense. He was the one who came with Bane to rescue me from…the Lab.” I said the words cautiously, but while Lucas screwed up his face for a moment, he didn’t flip out. “He did certainly help arrange the escape.”
“Yes, hate him,” he said emphatically. “They don’t let this man go. Unless for some great advantage.”
“Yeah, like a ton of good press! Good press is worth votes, and votes are worth more than anything just now! Lucas, trust me, it totally makes sense!”
Lucas shook his head stubbornly. “No. Greater advantage. And greater revenge on him. Something more. Worse. Trust me.”
“I trust you, Lucas; I just think you’re reading too much into this. We checked he wasn’t going to hurt me, remember?”
He pointed to me and drew a finger across his throat, falling back into his sign language in his frustration. But he didn’t have enough signs and went back to words, his mix of English and Latin—increasingly Latin, with the odd similar Italian word slipping in.
“Obvious. Killing you is obvious thing they want! Know you’ll think of that. Know” —he waved at the CCTV camera—“know camera fellow think of that. So maybe subtler. But something.”
“Look, perhaps they thought they had programmed Father Mark. But it didn’t work. We’ve proved that.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ll have to be off, anyway. I’m on the kitchen prep rotation today.”
I got up to go but he grabbed my wrist again, his hand like a bony vice. “Be careful!”
I looked into his fearful eyes. He was still very unwell, and here I was arguing with him like he was just another person. I put a hand gently over his. “I’ll be careful, Lucas. I promise, okay?”
He allowed me to draw my arm from his grasp, but I could feel his anxious gaze on me until I closed the door.
Soon I was hanging my wedding ring on the ring tree in the kitchen and struggling into a pair of rubber gloves. Lots of potatoes awaited me in the sink. To work, then. The British cooks were on duty. Shepherd’s pie. Perhaps Bane and Jon would come to the cafeteria for supper.
Would Bane and I bring our little one down for meals sometimes in the future? Of course we would…I pictured us leading a…little boy? little girl? between us to the hatch—could almost hear the little voice pleading, “I can hold my own tray, Daddy, I can!” and Bane saying, “Well, you’ve got to hold it steady. Careful… Got it?” and hovering defensively as our proud little one walked to—
“Margo? Earth to Margo? We’ve finished.” The cheery voice of one of my fellow cooks dragged me from my daydreaming.
“Oh…right.”
When everything was washed up and wiped down, I replaced my ring and headed off up the stone staircase to (hopefully) fetch the other two. Met Father Mark coming along the corridor at the top.
“Early bird,” I remarked. “Did you not have lunch?”
He glanced over my head at the empty corridor, then he looked at me—instinct screamed: DANGER!
I spun around, and I ran for the stairs. My mind, wailing protests, waited for the hurt cry of “Margaret!”
No cry. Just running footsteps.
Catching up fast.