The man smiled awkwardly, looked down at his feet. ‘Got to get accepted into the Settlement, haven’t you? I did my time, but I wasn’t deemed suitable. Too lazy, I’m afraid. Not like you. Still, like I say, I’ve got some friends who sort me out with bits of food from time to time. Anyway, I’ll see you around. Look after that girl of yours, won’t you?’
‘Raffy?’ Raffy turned to see Simon walking towards him. ‘Raffy, what are you doing? You’re late back.’
‘Sorry,’ Raffy said immediately, turning back to see the man, but he’d already disappeared.
‘Come on then,’ Simon said, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun, the other beckoning Raffy. ‘We’ve got work to do here.’
Raffy took one last look behind him and, heart thumping in his chest, he followed Simon back to the field.
24
Lucas woke up slowly. He felt like he was travelling up on a lift from low down beneath the earth’s surface; one false move and he would go down again. He opened his eyes but he could barely see; he felt heavy, foggy. He didn’t know where he was, how he had got here, but he knew it was not a good place. He felt it in his bones.
He closed his eyes; his heart was beginning to beat rapidly and he knew that he needed to conserve energy, needed to focus, needed to remember. Slowly, he breathed, letting oxygen fill his lungs. In, out. Calm. He could hear a mechanical whirring but no voices, nothing to indicate that there were any people near him. But that was not to say that there weren’t. They could be watching him, silently.
Carefully he opened his eyes again. Everything was clouded, but gradually the world began to come into focus. He was lying down on a bed, a metal bed. There was a machine to the left of him, on the floor, connected to him. To his head. When he moved, something pulled, it hurt; he stopped moving. There was a tube connected to his left hand, too. Nothing else, as far as he could see.
He breathed in and out again, did his best to suppress the anger, the fear bubbling up inside him. Anger as he remembered what had happened – Linus pushing him off the cliff – fear as he realised where he was: inside the camp, in a bed, a prisoner. He had to stay calm. He had to figure out where he was, what they wanted from him, how he was going to get out of here. And what these tubes sticking out of his head were.
He waited. Someone would come. He just had to stay awake until they did and then he might learn something. He counted to a hundred to keep his brain occupied, then started to count down again.
He only got to eighty-three.
Lucas woke up again. He felt groggy. The light had changed in the room; he guessed it was night-time. He moved his hand to his face; his stubble had grown. He had been here a couple of days at least.
His head hurt. He was thirsty; his throat was dry. He tried to call out but it took him several attempts to make a sound. And when he did, no one appeared to hear him.
It was dark in his room but he could see more clearly; his eyes were beginning to work better. A bag of fluid was dripping into his hand.
He tried calling out again, louder this time. And then a door opened and a woman walked in. ‘You’re awake,’ she said.
She was young, pretty, with a kind face. He managed a smile.
‘I’m awake,’ he agreed. ‘Where am I?’
She pulled at his eyelids, looked inside his mouth, felt his pulse. ‘You’re in a medical centre, being looked after,’ she said.
‘By you?’
‘Among others.’
‘Others?’
She smiled. ‘That’s right.’
Lucas felt caught off-guard, and decided to continue the act that he’d lost his memory. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ Lucas asked. ‘I can’t remember anything. Can’t even remember my name.’
The nurse looked at him for a second, opened her mouth as if to say something, then changed her mind. ‘I have to go,’ she said suddenly, rushing out of the door and letting it bang behind her.
Lucas heard a solid lock turning as soon as it was closed. Then he fell back against the pillow. He started to count again. This time he only made it up to forty-three.
‘He was definitely conscious, you say?’
Lucas woke to hear a man’s voice. Lucas heard him clearly; he didn’t know how long he’d been there. His voice was abrupt.
‘Definitely. About four hours ago. He wanted to know what he was doing here.’
‘I see.’ Brisk, patronising, dismissive. Lucas lay still. This man was in charge. The doctor, maybe. ‘And what did you tell him?’
‘Nothing, sir. Nothing at all.’ She sounded worried – fearful, even. Sir, not doctor. So who was he, Lucas wondered? ‘He doesn’t remember anything. Doesn’t remember who he is.’
‘Really?’ The man leant down, or someone did; the light changed behind Lucas’s eyelids, the bright lights trained on his face now blocked out by the person inspecting him. ‘Not that it matters. He’s of no interest to us. We can get rid of him.’
‘Get rid of him?’ the nurse asked uncertainly.
There was a pause. ‘Shut off life support, I mean. He’s obviously not going to recover.’
The second man cleared his throat. ‘We have the paperwork?’
‘He’s not one of ours, you imbecile. We don’t need the paperwork,’ he said impatiently.
Another pause. Then the second man spoke, his voice lower, almost a whisper. ‘This is not procedure. Outside the camp’s perimeter I know you get your guys to do what they want, but in here there are laws. We can’t just get rid of people.’
‘Oh yes we can,’ the first man said then, his voice threatening. ‘We can do whatever I decide we do. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Okay then.’
Lucas heard the first man leave his bedside and the room, even his footsteps sounding officious as he walked away. Once he had gone, the other man cleared his throat. ‘Mr Weizman wants us to switch off life support. I’ll need to get the relevant forms filled in, get approval from the director. Keep him doped up for now,’ he told the nurse.
‘But he’s not even on life support,’ she whispered. ‘There’s nothing wrong with him. Just a head injury.’
‘Then make it worse,’ the man said after a brief hesitation. There was silence for a few seconds. Then Lucas heard the man breathe out. ‘He’s really okay?’
‘Completely healthy,’ the nurse said.
The man sighed. ‘Okay. Just dope him up for now,’ he said.
‘Yes, doctor.’ Lucas felt something cool going into the back of his hand. He tried to stay awake, tried to think, tried to work out what he was going to do. But the fog was closing in. It was no use. He felt himself becoming very heavy.
Linus sat, silently, his binoculars trained on the flat white building with the shining lights. He was much closer now; alone, he was able to blend in far more easily. And bit by bit he was piecing it all together: the perimeter wall designed to blend in with the landscape with an electrical current to put off any inquisitive animals; a gate with a current so high it would fry an elephant. These people certainly weren’t planning on having any guests. But Linus could get round that; their system security was sophisticated, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Lucas was in a room three windows from the left in the white building, the one which had its blinds drawn all the time. He scanned to the right, saw the nurse walking along the corridor, visible as she passed each window, windows of empty rooms, their doors wide open, apparently useless. Why so many? Who were they for? Linus had an idea, but it was only a theory. For now.
He thought for a moment, then trained his binoculars back on the doors into the building. He’d watched the camp constantly for the past two days, monitoring everything. And now he was ready; had clocked all the entry codes, the routines, who did what and when. The building Lucas was in had a six-digit passcode. Fancy technology, but once again, nothing he couldn’t handle. He could get Lucas out no problem. No problem at all.
When it was time, that was. Right now there were
more interesting places to get into. The white building might have Lucas in it, but it was the grey building behind it that Linus was most interested in. The one with three layers of security. The one that only five people appeared to have access to. That was the building where information would be found. That was the building that Linus would be visiting first. If he could get inside that building he was pretty sure he’d find the answers to his questions; and he was pretty sure he’d be able to get into their network and hide a few ticking bombs he might want to use later.
He watched, waited. Then, carefully, he emerged, just as one of the five people with access to the grey building turned the corner, as he had done for the past two days, on the walk he always took after his lunch. People were such creatures of habit, Linus thought to himself as he stunned him, dragged him to the place he’d found on the first night, took off his clothes, then tied him up. ‘Going to be needing these,’ he said conversationally, as he put on the man’s uniform. ‘Hope you don’t mind.’ The man said nothing; he couldn’t, as Linus had gagged him. Linus regarded him for a few seconds, then shrugged. He’d be fine; Linus would free him later. And if he didn’t, someone would find him eventually.
He looked back at the path, checked that no one was looking, then re-emerged, and sauntered casually to the grey building.
25
Raffy felt his heart thudding in his chest. He only had five minutes, then Evie would be back. He’d looked everywhere: among her clothes, under the bed, in the back of the cupboards. And the watch wasn’t there, of course it wasn’t. But Raffy had to keep searching. Because the man had known, known about the watch, and how would he know about it if he wasn’t telling the truth? He’d have gone to the baker, but if it wasn’t true and Evie found out … No, better to just search, to reassure himself.
Because Evie wouldn’t have got that watch back.
She wouldn’t have.
Couldn’t have.
Could she?
Lucas’s watch. Raffy closed his eyes for a moment, tried to push back the tidal wave of hatred and anger that the very name ‘Lucas’ elicited in him, the bitterness and frustration that had consumed so much of his life. Lucas was far away now, but still his shadow followed Raffy, still his very existence felt like an active attack, to suppress and emasculate him, just as Lucas had always done.
At least before it had been bearable, at least before, Raffy’s seething rage had been justifiable; even if the rest of the City thought Lucas was perfect, Raffy had known about the evil that lurked within, the cold heart that had betrayed their own father. Back then it had been manageable. Back then, Raffy had known who Lucas was and what he was, and that knowledge had made him feel strong, able to withstand everyone’s hatred, everyone’s mistrust, because he didn’t want them to like him, not if they liked Lucas.
Of course there had only been one person who liked him instead of his brother. But that was all Raffy had needed. Because that person had been Evie. Evie, who had been matched to Lucas, preferred the company of Raffy, and risked everything to creep out at night to meet him.
That alone had made living worthwhile. That alone had told Raffy that the City could think what it liked; that he and Evie were in the right and nothing else mattered.
And then … then everything had come tumbling down around his feet. It turned out that Lucas had been hiding the truth all these years; it turned out that Lucas was a hero. Lucas hadn’t betrayed their father; their father had trusted Lucas, had made him promise to protect the family. To protect him, Raffy. It was because of that promise that Lucas had suffered all these years.
And it was because of that promise that Raffy could never forgive his brother. Because now he had nothing. Now he wasn’t strong; he was weak. Now he wasn’t good; he was bad: the angry young man with nothing to be angry about. Except, of course, the fact that Lucas had kissed Evie on the very night that he had sent her to rescue him, to help him escape from the City. It was to Evie he’d told the truth, the whole story about what had happened. To Evie, not him, not his own brother. And everyone expected him to be happy, to be grateful, to welcome the fact that Lucas, who had overshadowed him in the City, was now going to overshadow him here, too. Even with Evie. Especially with Evie.
Well he wasn’t going to. Raffy wasn’t going to let him. He was going to forget about Lucas, purge him from his mind, pretend that he didn’t exist. He could do that here as no one in the Settlement knew that Lucas, the new leader of the City, was in fact his brother. Here he was Raffy, judged on his own merits, free to be who he was. And when Evie had given him Lucas’s watch, the watch that their father had given him, that freedom had been threatened. He had felt the panic rise up in him, suffocating him, making him gasp for breath. But he’d dealt with it, taken the watch from Evie and then, the very next day, got rid of it again.
He should have destroyed it.
He should have ignored his hunger and destroyed it.
He sat down on the bed, took a few deep breaths. The watch wasn’t here. The man was wrong. Everything was okay. He had to calm down.
He heard the door handle turn and quickly scanned the room to check that he’d put everything back in its place, then he stood up to greet Evie. She looked at him warily, took off her coat and lay down on the bed.
‘I’m so tired,’ she sighed, ‘and hungry.’ She glanced over at Raffy, then frowned. ‘Raffy? What’s the matter?’
Raffy barely heard her talk; his head was pounding and his stomach was clenching and he felt like the ground was opening under his feet. Because his eyes were on the pocket of her dress. Where her handkerchief was. Where, peeking up through the white linen, he could see an unmistakable glint of gold.
He reached out to the wall to steady himself, then managed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, a smile that felt like someone had drawn it onto his face like on a wooden toy. His eyes were searching Evie’s face for a clue, for an explanation for her betrayal, but he could see nothing.
‘Raffy?’ Evie said again, getting off the bed, moving towards the door. ‘Is everything okay?’ She was edging away from him. As though she were scared of him.
Raffy nodded. ‘Of course it is,’ he said, swallowing his desperation, forcing his emotions deep down inside, where they would not consume him. ‘So what did you get up to today?’
26
Devil sat back against the soft leather chair and pretended he wasn’t there. But he was there, had been there for hours, ever since Thomas had brought him here, driven him into the middle of London, into an area full of tall buildings and people in suits running around. He’d driven into a car park, brought Devil in through a back door into a meeting room with no windows, and that’s where he’d been ever since, gazing around, looking at nothing and everything.
He knew how to do that. It’s what he did on the estate most days.
Anyway, it wasn’t the first time he’d been here. The first time, Thomas had brought him here, sat him on a chair, then walked out and disappeared for about an hour. That time, Devil had been freaked, had started pacing, had found himself trying the door, finding it locked, wondering if Thomas was actually some crazed psychopath who was into imprisoning people for fun. But then, just before he really started to panic, Thomas had come back, handed him a wodge of cash and asked him stuff about God, about the Bible, told him stuff about how people needed guidance, needed to be fired up, needed to feel that life was worthwhile. They’d talked for ages, at least two hours, and then they’d gone. That had been it. Which had kind of surprised Devil, but he wasn’t complaining, wasn’t going to ask too many questions.
It was strange, this building. Maybe it was because Devil was so high up – they had taken a lift to the fiftieth floor – but it was like the rest of the world didn’t matter here, like everything was normal. Like the chaos couldn’t seep in through the solid walls.
Because outside it was chaos. Outside … well, to be honest, it was freaking Devil out a bit.
Then, the next time,
Thomas had brought a camera. Asked Devil to look into it, to imagine his father was there on the other side, to imagine that he was giving one of his father’s sermons. And at first he’d felt really stupid; at first he’d kicked his feet and looked the other way and muttered stuff about not being no Pastor Jones. But then Thomas’s face had gone cold and he’d said that maybe Devil wasn’t the right man for the job, and just like that Devil had started talking. Strange thing was, he remembered his father’s sermons word for word, but after a few tries he started to embellish with his own stories, with his own thoughts. And man, he loved it. He felt like a someone. Felt like he had stuff to say.
And the thing was, he was beginning to realise that Thomas was right, that people needed him. Because the world was becoming more fucked up by the day. Bombs going off everywhere, people out on the streets, riot police shooting at them. In Europe people were machine-gunning each other, just walking into each other’s houses and mowing whole families down. Devil had seen it on the news, on that big television Thomas had in his office. People screaming in front of the camera, begging for help. Two people were killed on camera. Seriously fucked up. And every week he gave another sermon, reworded for his father’s followers. ‘Because you’re going to be the new Pastor Jones,’ Thomas told him. ‘You look just like him. You’re going to guide people out of this mess.’
Of course in this building, you wouldn’t know about the men, about the violence. People walked around on the thick carpets just like they always did, in smart suits, nice hair, their voices low and calm, not shrieking like the people outside the banks banging on the doors and asking for their money.
Devil looked around the room. He wasn’t on his own this time; Thomas was there and someone else had joined him, a younger guy a few years older than Devil. A geek, his hair in a ponytail, white skin, glasses, thin arms and legs, couldn’t land a punch if he tried. They were drinking coffee; there was a television in there now and they were watching it, flicking through the channels, talking to each other in low voices. Devil was sitting in the corner, silently, watching.