28
“They announced it on the radio just now,” Bane added.
I stared at him, comprehension finally dawning. “We won?”
Ridiculous as it might seem, Father Mark’s death and my fears for Bane and the Vatican had driven the vote from my mind entirely. But as we’d sat in the forest, kicking our heels, the EuroBloc had been voting. Each tap of each ballot terminal had flashed a vote almost instantly to the EuroBloc mainServer, where the carefully imported—and neutral—Vote Verification Technicians had been watching over the counting program. The EuroGov must’ve run out of things to insist they double-check—they should’ve been able to make the announcement at about five past midnight.
I flung my arms around Bane and hugged him yet again. “We won!”
He swung me from side to side in celebration. I buried my face against his chest, a tight bubble of joy inside me, but despite my relief, my mood only lightened slightly. Father Mark was still dead. And so was our baby. And Snakey. Eventually I detached from Bane and looked around again; registered the pair of green eyes fixed on me like those of an anxious cat. And the autumn-haired figure with an equally attentive ear cocked in my direction. “Oh, Jon, Lucas…I’m fine, really.”
Lucas stepped over, hands running from my head down my arms, as though he had to have physical confirmation of my well-being.
I gave him a hug. “I really am all right. What happened here?” I hugged Jon as well. “How did you re-take the state? Is anyone hurt? Is Kyle okay?”
“Kyle’s fine.” Eduardo had just come up behind me, Unicorn and Snail beside him.
“U! Snail!” I hugged them too, not caring if they were on duty. “And Eduardo…you’re all okay. The grenade didn’t hurt you, then?”
Uh oh. The question made their happy expressions slip.
“Bee…hasn’t woken up yet,” said Unicorn quietly.
“Oh no. How bad is it?”
“It’s too soon for Doctor Frederick to say,” said Eduardo. “But some level of brain damage looks all too likely.”
“Oh no,” I said again, helplessly “What he did was so brave.”
Unicorn nodded, his face very sober. Yes, if Bee hadn’t beaten him to it, he’d have been the one curled up over that grenade.
“So…what did happen?” I asked.
“Well, we woke up—well, all of us except poor Bee, that is—piled in one of the cells,” said Unicorn. “Not the one Doctor Reynar was in, the other one. Doctor Reynar was whining to be let out, but they weren’t having any of it. Weren’t risking anything upsetting their plan until they were sure the state was secure. We tried to escape, until they threatened to shoot us all if we didn’t knock it off. Since there were as many of them out there as there were of us and them all armed, there wasn’t much we could do. Fortunately for us, Bane’s little commando team were getting busy.”
I turned to Bane and made an encouraging noise.
He went slightly red, but spoke with increasing enthusiasm. “Well, Lucas figured our only chance was to play to our strengths—and clearly he was right. So he took a look around double-quick, before it could get light, and found where Eduardo and the others had been taken. We couldn’t get to the light switches without being seen, though, so Jon and I hid just outside the cell block, whilst Lucas slipped off to the main power transformer—”
“A junction box,” corrected Lucas.
“Okay, box, whatever. Eduardo really needs to hire Lucas as a consultant: he already knew the weak spots. Anyway, Lucas shinnies his way up to this item of strategic electrical importance—attached to a pole, I believe it was—and poof, he shuts off the power to the section where we’re hiding. The guards reacted the same way they did earlier, lots of swearing, so Jon and I just strolled in and sent them all beddy-byes. Then I listened out for trouble whilst Jon found the right keys and got the cell unlocked.”
“I couldn’t believe it when this voice whispered, ‘Don’t attack me, it’s Jon!’ and the door opened,” put in Unicorn. “Thought I was having hallucinations from the nonLee or something. No offense, you three.”
“None taken,” said Jon. “It would never have crossed my mind we could do it, either. Bane just refused to believe we couldn’t.”
“Because we had to,” said Bane, blushing charmingly, and hurrying on, “Anyway, once they were out, Eduardo just said, ‘Jack, see about re-taking the state,’ and off he ran to find some guys to send after Father Mark, then locked himself in a cupboard with a laptop to hack the ambulance system so the guys could borrow one and look official. By the time he reappeared, it was all over.
“Personally,” Bane went on, “I could’ve understood U thinking that was rather a tall order he’d been given, but he just sent guys off to various places to scout around, shut the rest of us up in a broom cupboard with him to wait for them to come back and forbade us to say a word.”
“I needed to think,” said Unicorn.
“Yeah, by the time the scouts came back, I think he’d formed a plan for each possible scenario, because the moment they’d all checked in, he was deploying his troops. The EuroGov had spread their soldiers thinly through the accommodation corridors, just patrolling to stop anyone who happened to wander out of their room from raising the alarm, but they were heavily guarding the Swiss Guard barracks, the Vatican Police barracks and, of course, the armory and VSS HQ. But they didn’t have access to the camera room—I should say camera vault—because they’d have needed explosives to get in quickly and that would wake everyone. So U deployed four guys to the barracks and four to the armory, and sent Jon with them.”
“In case we could use the trick with the lights a third time,” said Jon. “He took Bane with him for the same reason—you know that Eduardo’s going to make all the guys practice blind-folded with the audible targets, from now on? He’s already appointed me and Bane as instructors!”
“Anyway, U sent Lucas to protect the Holy Father,” went on Bane, looking equally pleased, “which just about killed the other guys. But the fact was that Lucas could get to him, and they couldn’t, so we persuaded him to go in the end.”
“Persuaded?” I queried. “Didn’t you want to do it, Lucas?”
Lucas shrugged slightly, and Bane went red again. “Lucas, er, had kind of appointed himself my bodyguard. But I managed to convince him that you’d rather he went to Pope Cornelius.”
“Oh. Lucas, thank you so much for thinking about Bane, but…well, they were right. You had to go to His Holiness, in the circumstances.”
Lucas shrugged again. “Well, I did go,” he said.
“Glad to hear it. I take it Pope Cornelius is okay, then?
“Right as rain,” said Eduardo. “Some panic-stricken soldiers did burst in eventually to try and take him hostage, but Lucas just shot them.”
“Right so…uh, Jon went to the barracks, Lucas to the papal apartment—by an external route, I presume—and…where did you go with U, Bane?
“Oh, we went to the Exchange.”
“The Exchange?” I echoed. “Isn’t that where the telephoneServer is?”
“That’s right. Only two guards there, we took them out easily. Then U gets on the telephone system and puts a call through to every occupied residential room. People answered and got a recorded message saying, ‘Hold for a security announcement.’ When virtually everyone had picked up, he got on the phone himself, announced that the EuroArmy were in control of the state—that they were right outside their rooms, in fact—and ordered them all to go out and take them down with whatever they had handy—as nonviolently as possible, obviously.
“So,” Bane grinned, “about thirty seconds after U hangs up, the corridors are full of angry young nuns…”
“Waving frying pans,” put in Snail, eyes gleaming with amusement.
“Priests with, what did you say, Snail? Tennis rackets?” put in Jon. “Lay people with walking sticks…”
“One guy was throwing dinner plates,” added Snail.
“Anyway,” said Bane. “Total chaos ensued. Of course, most people just got shot with nonLees, but that was the whole idea, it turns out. U’s really a rather ruthless fellow, you know. Because by the time U’s small teams of armed, trained agents made their move, there were whole heaps of unconscious bodies everywhere, but the EuroArmy had empty powerMags.”
“It was the only way,” said Unicorn softly, his face grim.
“Was anyone hurt?” I asked, alarmed to see everyone else’s faces sobering as well.
“Three fatalities,” said U quietly. “All old folk—weak hearts, all of them. I said old folks were to stay in their rooms, but they went out anyway.” He sighed. “I knew they would. Five other heart attack cases are in the hospital at the moment. Father Mario’s the worst, but it looks like he’ll pull through.”
Three dead…and Father Mario and four others very ill. And Bee. Still, who knew what the EuroGov would’ve done if they’d still been in control when we won the vote.
“Anyway,” concluded Bane, “Once the Swiss Guards were freed, that was it. Game over. Though from the sound of it some of the EuroSoldiers were actually quite glad to be rescued from the little old ladies with their rolling pins.”
“Divine wrath of God personified,” muttered Snail, and grinned.
“But what happened to you, Margo?” asked Bane. “What’s wrong with your throat?” His concerned fingers moved in that direction.
I fended him off. My speech was improving, but it was still very sore to the touch. “Father Mark tried to strangle me,” I said simply.
He went white. “Weren’t you going to shoot him on sight? Didn’t Spitfire and the others get there in time?”
“Spitfire and the others…well, they were Team Better-Late-Than-Never, I’m afraid, so I was on my own. And there were weaponScanners in the hotel lobby, which meant I had to ditch the nonLee. I hoped to get in the back way instead, but no one came out, and the Chairman was coming, so I had no choice.”
“Oh my God! You used yourself as bait!”
He sounded so horrified I slipped an arm around him and squeezed. “Really didn’t have any choice.”
Eduardo looked ill as well. “How did you get away with it?”
“Well, obviously I didn’t. He got me, choked me unconscious—suspect he was exerting enough influence over his actions to choose a nice slow method in the hope he’d be interrupted—but it appears he managed to interrupt himself. Because I came round, and he was collapsed and in a very bad way, but he was so happy, because he’d broken free, and I could go near him again, but…” my voice wobbled, “whatever was wrong…something to do with his heart, I think…it was too bad and he…” I buried my face in Bane’s shoulder; I could feel it all over again, him dying in my arms.
“I see,” said Eduardo softly.
I took a couple of deep breaths and managed to finish, “I was just getting in a panic, trying to figure out how to find a laundry trolley and get him out of there when the team showed up and took care of all that.”
“Right. Well, I can debrief you more thoroughly later, but that will do for now. Oh, this is all top secret,” added Eduardo sternly. “Not a word. Understood? Margo? Bane? Jon?”
“What about Lucas?” said Bane.
“That goes for Mr. Loquacious as well. You lot can go. Team Better-Late-Than-Never, come along for debriefing.”
The team winced in unison and followed him.
Telling the story seemed to have given me the shakes. I let Bane lead me out, and a few short minutes later I was sitting on the sofa in our own home—happily the unconscious men had been removed while I was away—and Bane was putting a mug of tea into my hands. I sipped appreciatively for a while, and Bane sat beside me looking—it slowly sunk in—oddly pleased with himself. I glanced around…no, I’d not imagined Jon excusing himself. I’d been a little surprised he hadn’t stayed.
“Did you make this?”
“I did,” he said rather smugly, then shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Jon and I had to do something this last week whilst you’ve been so busy.”
“Well, it’s perfect. How did you do it?”
“Well, I boiled water, I put tea in the pot—” I slapped his arm lightly and he laughed. “Okay, okay, actually it’s just lots and lots of practice. You pour cold water into the teapot over and over again until you can hear when it’s full. Then you do the same with the mug until you know what that sounds like when full. Ten minutes later you’ve forgotten—start again. Really boring, basically.”
But he’d stuck at it, and there was pride in his face. Not being able to make hot drinks for himself or for me might not seem like a big deal, but I’d a feeling it’d been one of things that stung the most.
“It’s a perfect cup of tea, Bane, thank you.”
He kissed my hair, and I rested my cheek on his shoulder. The tea was slowly thawing me out inside and settling my stomach. We’d won. How happy Father Mark would be about that. How happy that he’d not been the one to derail it all.
And I’d forgiven him. I had. I could think about my poor baby and Father Mark at the same time, without that gnawing anger trying to swallow me whole. The pain…the pain was undiminished. Doubled, with Father Mark’s loss. No wonder I felt so sick.
We’d won. I’d not really thought beyond the vote, not in anything but the most generalized terms. Suddenly the rest of our lives were spread out in front of us. Freedom. We’d not be going back into the EuroBloc, but still. Freedom for the Underground. A constant fight to keep that freedom awaited us; no doubt that would be a lifelong struggle. But.
We won.
After lunch the next day we ventured down unfamiliar corridors to the mortuary in the basement. Father Mark’s funeral was to be tonight, and Bane wanted to pay his respects. We joined a subdued line and waited—mostly members of Animal and other first-wave Liberation teams. Eventually it was our turn.
It was a small room with clean-cut stone walls, nothing there but the coffin on its trestles and a simple crucifix on the wall. They’d dressed Father Mark in his cassock, all neat and ironed, brushed his dark hair and folded his arms across his chest, so his very body would bear the sign of the cross into eternity. His seven stealth stoles, bits of colored yarn he’d used during his years as an Underground priest in the EuroBloc, had been braided colorfully into one and put in place around his neck.
They’d not used eye cups or make-up or any of the things nonBelievers use to lie to themselves; he looked dead, all right, but he was a very presentable corpse, and there was a bizarre comfort in that.
I dragged my eyes away from the body of our friend and glanced at Bane as he made a frustrated noise.
“This is useless! I can’t see him!” Familiar sentiments, but I frowned as I tried to analyze his voice. “Oh well,” Bane sighed, stepping forward, his hands tentatively tracing the coffin sides and finding Father Mark’s face. “I don’t really know what he felt like. But it’ll have to do.”
Something was gone from his tone. Frustration, anger, irritation, they were all there. What was gone?
Despair.
Realization washed over me. There was no despair in his voice. Like he no longer secretly felt his blindness was the end of his world. My heart pounded with joy and relief. Karen North, Bane, I, we were winning. Everything was going to be all right.
Thank you, Lord!
“You’re lurking, Lucas. You can join us, you know.” I’d finally registered the furtive movements at the corner of my eye as we got settled in a pew ready for the Requiem Mass. “Unless you’d prefer the company of St Norbert.” A nook behind St Norbert’s statue was one of his favorite hidey-holes.
He sidled into the pew, slid warily past Jon and Bane and sat beside me. He must’ve sounded furtive too because Bane leaned around me to say, “Y’know, Lucas, we had a big lunch earlier; I doubt Jon could fit you in, he’s too full.”
Lucas looked intent for a moment as he unraveled this, then he actually smiled. “Nothing on me, anyway.”
“That’s true,” I said. “You’ve got to remember to eat more.”
He shrugged. “More interesting things to do.”
“Perhaps, but eating’s important.”
“Yes, Godmother.”
That got a snort from Bane, as ever. Even Jon smiled slightly. But we all fell silent, then, attention returning to the trestles standing before the tomb rail, awaiting the simple coffin. I felt so down. Why did I have to be so moody? Hormones again? Perhaps now all the stress of the vote was over, I’d level out.
Oh no, not again! Can’t we start? But it was no good, I was going weepy.
“I wanted so much to save him,” I whispered into Bane’s shoulder.
“I know, I know,” he soothed, rubbing my back and looking anxious. I didn’t want to put that look on his face.
“I’m okay,” I sniffed, unconvincingly. “I don’t know why I’m being like this. I’m just so sad.”
Lucas was staring at me with his head on one side. “But…this is a very happy day for Father Mark, isn’t it?”
I blinked, my tears abruptly petering out. Rubbed at my cheeks with my sleeve, my mind in turmoil as intellect fought with emotion. Finally I reached out and hugged him tightly.
“I said something right?”
“Very right. Reminded me what really matters. It’s human enough to feel sorry for oneself at a time like this, but I’ve got to remember to be happy for Father Mark as well!”
Lucas nodded and smiled serenely. “With God.”
“With God, Lucas. He is.”
The Mass was simple but the choir sang beautifully. Pope Cornelius did the homily—reminding me painfully of how he’d given the homily at the last Requiem Mass for Father Mark. My throat tightened at the memory.
Afterwards we processed out to the Vatican Gardens in the setting sun to watch the coffin lowered into a freshly-dug grave, tucked away in that pleasant bush-encircled corner that meant so much to me. They’d asked me to choose the spot, and it’d felt right. They were both victims of the EuroGov, after all. A wooden cross was set up, to mark the foot of the grave until the headstone could be planted. Once it’d rotted completely away, it would also indicate that the headstone could be moved to join the others around the walls and the space reused.
Oh no, nausea stirred again. Since when was I squeamish?
Kyle was there at the funeral, of course, and I tried to reach him, but he disappeared into the throng, deliberately or not, I couldn’t tell. Should I go and look for him? No, not right now. I was feeling too emotional. I went back to Lucas’s room instead, because I felt I could use a few minutes of his cheerfulness. Sorry as he was to lose one of his only two friends, he was possibly the only person who was actually managing not to begrudge the Lord Father Mark’s company.
I drank tea, trying to settle my rebellious stomach, and admired his healing plants, listening a little absently to their progress reports.
“Margaret?”
Blast, I’d tuned out completely. “Sorry, Lucas.”
“Worried?”
“Not really. Just thinking about Bane’s eyes. Which is stupid. Especially since…well you know, just earlier today, I realized things really are going to be fine. For Bane. For me. For us. Without his eyes. But still, the thought of them sitting somewhere in the EuroGov’s grasp keeps creeping back into my head.”
“Worth a lot less now,” said Lucas softly.
“Don’t remind me. I think that’s why I’m dwelling on them so much. Because what can they use them to gain, now?” I sighed. “Well, we’re not getting them back. There’s no point thinking about it. What were you saying?”
He blinked and sipped his tea. “I sold a plant. Yesterday.”
“You did? What did you sell?”
“One of my first fuchsia cuttings. The cafe owner from outside the square came to buy a plant—just to savor the permanent lifting of the Religious Suppression, I think. And chose the little fuchsia.”
“Well, congratulations. You’re in business.”
“Yes. I do hope he looks after it.” Lucas heaved rather a sigh himself, then offered me the biscuit tin.
I waved it away hastily as a waft of sweet biscuity smell assaulted my nose. “No, thank you, I…oh, blast!” I ran for the toilet.
Grrr, go away stress. Father Mark’s buried, the vote’s won, so clear off!
My not-very-full stomach now empty, I sat back on my heels and pulled off a wad of toilet paper to wipe my mouth. Looked around to find my gangly host leaning on the doorframe, watching me with rather less panic than I might’ve expected.
“Are you having a baby, Margaret?”
“What?” My heart clenched so hard it took my breath away, and I fought to keep tears from my eyes. “No, of course not.”
“Why of course not? That sturdy young man is your husband, isn’t he?”
My cheeks caught fire, but there wasn’t much I could say. “Yes, but…I’m not, anyway. It’s just stress.”
“Oh.” Looking disappointed, he offered me a bony hand and drew me to my feet. “Okay now?”
“Yes, sorry about that.”
“I think it was worse for you.”
Eduardo actually looked the tiniest bit amused the following morning as he handed me a EuroPocket paper. I took a look at the photo and blinked in surprise. Someone had snapped me hugging Lucas in St. Peter’s yesterday. How was this front page? I scanned the headlines and text. Oh…
“What do you think of that?” Eduardo almost smirked.
“They don’t know what to make of it, do they! Bane, Jon, it’s a picture of me hugging Lucas yesterday. You know the EuroPockets have been swearing up and down that this forgiving Lucas and baptizing him is all a big publicity con and as soon as we won we’d lock him up and throw away the key and I’d never go near him again? Well, now they’ve got this photo and they’re floundering. Why did they print it, though?”
Eduardo gestured to the other papers on the table. “They’ve all got a shot of it, so they felt they had to try and come up with some sort of explanation. They really are struggling, though. They know we have as much reason as they do to hate him.”
“And they really hate him, don’t they,” I muttered, scanning a few EuroGov quotes. They didn’t come straight out and say it, but it came through somehow. Reginald Hill was quoted at poisonous length, even calling Lucas a “consummate deceiver capable of taking in even the scheming minds of the most seditious.”
“They’d rather people think Lucas has taken us in than that he’s genuinely repented and we’ve genuinely forgiven him,” I snorted. “I think it’s getting a bit thin.”
“Well,” said Eduardo, “Most of the papers seem to have finally ruled in our favor on this one.”
“Bring one over to read,” suggested Jon, turning back towards the serving hatch.
Soon we were settled at a table, and I was devouring cherry tomatoes and reading the article to the others. Why didn’t I used to like these things? They tasted good. I’d better eat more than just those, though. Continental breakfast today. I ate a slice of ham and started on the croissant. And then… Oh no, not again! “S’cuse me. Back in a tick.”
I almost flattened Kyle as I hurtled from the cafeteria and dived into the ladies.
“Margo?”
He actually spoke to me! But I couldn’t stop…
“Sorry, must dash,” I yelled over my shoulder, hurrying into a cubicle and promptly losing all the tomatoes and ham. This was getting ridiculous! I wasn’t even feeling stressed this morning! I was still very sad about Father Mark, and my baby and Snakey, of course, and we were all worried about Bee, but the general post-vote euphoria had been buoying my mood.
“Are you all right, Margo?” Kyle stood in the outer doorway, frowning at me.
“I’m fine, really. I’m just stressed out.”
“Oh. I wondered if you were pregnant.”
I flinched as my heart knotted up again. “No, I’m not! Why does everyone keep asking—” I stopped with my mouth hanging open, the answer to this question hitting me like a slap in the face.
“Uh…got to go.” I raced back into the cafeteria and grabbed Bane’s arm. Gave a distracted nod to Sister Mari and Sister Krayj, now sitting there as well. “Come on, Bane!”
“What? I haven’t finished—”
“Doesn’t matter, come on.”
“What…are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Giving in to my efforts to drag him from his seat, he located his croissant, used it to wave bemused resignation to the others, and followed me.
Was it possible? Actually possible? So soon?
“What’s up?” Bane asked, once we’d threaded our way through the tables and reached the corridor outside.
“Tell you in a minute.” There were people everywhere, and he was bound to repeat what I said at the top of his voice. Someone even followed us into the lift, so I kept silent.
Oh… Kyle had been speaking to me—grudgingly—and I’d just run off. I shouldn’t have done that…hadn’t even thought. Too late now.
When we got out of the lift Bane sniffed, clearly catching some tang in the air. “Are we going to the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you said you were okay!”
“I am, relax!” No possibility of taking my own advice, I felt I was about to explode with needing to know.
I towed him into the waiting area—all the staff were at breakfast, good—and took another pregnancy test from the box. Or the same one, recharged, for all I knew.
“Then what are we doing here?” demanded Bane.
“I want to do a pregnancy test.”
“A—” He dropped the croissant. “You think you’re…!”
“I think it is possible.”
“But…I thought you said… And we… Your chart…”
I tried to choose my words carefully. “Well, I haven’t been looking at my chart as often as I should have been.” Not at all, it still made me cry. “I’ve been so busy and stressed. And now…well, I’m feeling sick all the time, I’m tired all the time, I’m moody, and I’m suddenly rather sure that your renewed interest in certain parts of my anatomy doesn’t account for how sore they are.”
“Unlikely,” snorted Bane. “You keep falling asleep before I can even say goodnight, Margo.”
“Exactly. Watch it…” He’d trodden on the croissant. I bent to pick up the pieces, but he found my hands and gave me a push.
“No, you’ve convinced me; do the test, I can’t stand the suspense.”
“Okay.” I pulled the thing out of its box and stuck my finger in it. “Done.”
“Don’t you need to…um…go in the bathroom or something?”
“It’s a blood test, Bane. The new type of test.”
“Oh. Right.”
We tidied up the croissant and sat on a seat to wait.
“Oh, Margo, Bane, did you want to see someone?”
I stuck the little device hastily behind my back as Nurse Poppy arrived, probably back from breakfast herself. “Oh, no, we’re just, er, we’re fine.”
From the gleam in her eye and the fact that she accepted this and bustled off, she’d caught a good enough look at what I held.
Beep.
My heart was pounding so hard I could hardly breathe. “Lord help me, I’m afraid to look.”
“Well, I can’t!”
“Yes, okay. Right.” I drew a deep breath and took the test from behind my back.