Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) (2 page)

“I won’t say Luciano loves us ‘cause he doesn’t, but he’s got a heck of a lot more appreciation for… uh…
our
methods than most of his lot. I reckon he might just consider helping us to get suitably equipped worth a little time and effort.”

Pope Cornelius shrugged.

“Well, providing we are all agreed on the nonviolent nature of this enterprise, I’ve no objection to you getting in touch with the man. So, where do you plan on
getting
these weapons?”

Bane opened his mouth to reply – hesitated, as though spotting an unexpected fly in his ointment.

“Well, um, I think the only way is to take them from the EuroGov.”

“You mean
steal
them from the EuroGov.”

Bane spread his hands.

“They own the factories. We can’t
buy
them.”

“Actually,” put in Father Mark, “we can’t
arrange
a purchase. But we’re still sending the EuroGov monthly invoices for the Forbidden Square tours and rent on all the Church property they’ve occupied throughout the EuroBloc, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” said Pope Cornelius dryly, “and they’re shredding them and using them as bedding for their children’s pet hamsters, for all the response we’re getting.”

Father Mark shrugged.

“So add the rent for Vatican State as planned – and once we’ve helped ourselves to what nonLees we need, deduct the value, taking into account any damages caused acquiring them, print it up on the invoice, nice and official, and send it to them. Then it’s not stealing. Just an unofficial transaction.”

Pope Cornelius smiled slightly.

“That… might be acceptable. I will pray about it. But I think the answer will be yes. So make your plans accordingly.”

Bane had his permission to proceed. Part of me was more sorry than glad. But Bane was saying thanks, eyes gleaming with excitement, and we were all getting up to go.

“Keep me up to date,” appealed the Holy Father. “And
be careful
.”

“Of course,” said Bane. How many times had I heard that?

“He won’t,” said Jon, “but we will.”

“
I will
,” objected Bane.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” said Father Mark, holding the door open.

Bane and I left Jon to make his way to a suitable, empty phone room, whilst we went down the stairs to the basement room where Eduardo had made his lair.

“Can we make an external call, Eduardo?” asked Bane from the doorway. No point making plans ‘til we knew if Luciano would help and no one made calls out-of-state without the Head of Security’s permission.

“Yes.” Eduardo picked up a code card from the desk and held it out without looking up from his screen. Bane crossed the room and took it.

“Well, that’s very obliging of you. Who shall we ring, Margo?”

“
If
it’s the one you just discussed with the Holy Father,” clarified Eduardo, still busy with his screen.

“Have you got the place bugged, or something?”

“The Holy Father called down to me already, not that it’s any of your business. Go and make your call.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Is there any news about Juwan and Doms?” I asked.

Eduardo turned from the screen at last.

“Nothing yet. They’re still being held in Reims Detention Facility until the boy Louis recovers enough to testify against them.”

“Will he?”

Eduardo grimaced.

“I’m sorry, but they do seem to think he will. Sooner or later.”

I bit my lip. Bane’s plan wouldn’t help. Not at once, anyway. First we needed the weapons. And then… well, a Detention Facility really was a different kettle of fish.

“I’m monitoring the situation as a priority,” said Eduardo softly, and turned back to his work.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Bane seriously.

When we’d joined Jon, Bane went straight to the phone and typed in the number from the code card, then the phone number he’d retrieved from his old omniSIM. He put it onto speaker setting so we could all hear, but it rang and rang and rang. Luciano might not have his phone on him, might have it on silent whilst he went about his bloody work. We’d have to try again later…

“
Si?
” A woman’s voice.

“Uh, who is that?” asked Bane in Esperanto.

“Who’s
that
?” snapped the voice in the same language. “And why are you calling this phone?”

“Carla,” Jon mouthed at Bane, who nodded.

“Carla?”

“Who is it?” she asked more warily.

“Bane.”

A long silence.

“What the hell do you want?”

“We want to speak to Luciano.”

“
You can’t.
”

“Oh, come on, is he there?”

“No, she means
can’t
, not
won’t let you
,” said a male voice – Carla had the phone on speaker too.

“
Francesco?
Why not?”

Silence from the phone, then Carla spoke in a hard, tight voice.

“He’s dead.”

***+***

2

THE TWO HEADED SNAKE

“What?” I gasped. Okay, so Luciano and the others, like all the Resistance – and many of the Underground, come to that – were on a fastTrac to the grave, but to have reached it in the brief time since we parted in Rome? “What happened?”

“Ah, Signorina Silver-tongue,” Carla hissed. “You might well ask
what happened
.”

“Gino stabbed him,” said Francesco flatly.

“Straight in the heart. He didn’t even have a chance to defend himself.”

Oh no… Ice was forming in my stomach – I could hardly get the next word out.

“Why?”

“Why do you think, you stupid
Pregatora
. Gino wanted to turn you three in,
bastardo
, and Luciano wouldn’t let him. Stalled for so long Gino lost it and went for the phone by force – Luciano ripped the cord out of the wall, flung the thing across the room, and
wham
, Gino killed him.”

I swallowed, picturing those great steel gates closing.

“I think he saved our lives.”

“What?”

“By stalling so long. They shut the gates to the square
just
after our coach went in. If Gino had called the EuroGov even a minute sooner – we’d have been caught.”

“Well, at least he didn’t die completely for nothing!”

“He wouldn’t have died for nothing!” Francesco’s voice was sharp. “Gino was about to betray everything we stand for. Luciano died opposing that. That’s not
nothing
.”

Carla was silent for a moment, then went on bitterly, “
If
that’s how it happened. It’s the version we had from those mewling
vigliacchi
– I guess it is true, Luciano having that little streak of
you
lot’s weakness – seeing the best in people. He’d never have expected it.”

I hadn’t known Luciano well, but I knew what she meant. He’d have trusted his own – just like me and Bane and Jon, he’d have expected blows, but never a knife. My mind wallowed in that sense of ringing shock you get when you hear something terrible has happened. Luciano, dead. Brave, clever, passionate,
reasonable
Luciano, killed by one of his own side.

“I’m so sorry,” I said at last. “We never imagined any harm might befall him.”

“Have a bit of a fistfight, perhaps,” said Bane grimly, “and get stuffed back in that taxi.”

“Gino was on his side...” Jon sounded stunned.

“Gino had the self-control of a rabid wolverine and the honour of a dead dog,” said Carla. “Only reason he was still in command was because no one wanted to be the one to tell him he was demoted.”

“And he was good at raids, I suppose,” Francesco added grudgingly. “Very good at those.”

“Pah,” spat Carla. “Well, he’s very good food for the Tiber fishes, now. And his mewling cronies with him.”

“What?” I said.

“
What
?” mimicked Carla. “We’re in Rome, as if it’s any of your business. We were very, very happy to be part of the clean-up squad sent to deal with this vile and outrageous offence to everything honourable. Anyone who collaborated is dead, end of. We made it pretty quick for most of them, but not for Gino. Got a problem with that?”

I swallowed.

“Could you just hold on one moment?”

I pressed the mute button.

“Bane, I don't care how much we need their help, they have to come over to us for this. Luciano was different but they’re not. It's too like making a deal with the devil.”

“That's going a bit far,” objected Bane.

“No. It’s not. The Eurobloc and the Resistance are two heads on the same bloody snake, and you know it. Deep down, you do.”

Bane was silent for a moment, then glanced at Jon, who was frowning. He sensed Bane’s gaze.

“We can’t work
with
these two, Bane. I
won’t
, okay? We didn’t have much choice before and Luciano was just that little bit different, but Margo’s right,
they’re
not. No joint mission. They have to join
us
for this.”

“Or nothing doing,” I said.

Bane sighed and rubbed his forehead, the struggle visible on his face, ideals wrestling with need.

“Okay,” he sighed at last. “The Eurobloc and the Resistance are two
bloody heads
on the same
bloody snake
– I know it. Happy?”

I reached out and squeezed his hand briefly, then sat back in my chair as he reached for the mute button.

“Hi, are you still there? Sorry about that.”

“Mopped up Signorina Silver-tongue’s tears over worthless Gino and his craven comrades?” asked Carla mockingly.

“I don’t give a damn about Gino,” I snarled into the mic, the truth, alas, “but torturing people is always wrong. It doesn’t matter what they’ve done. It. Is.
Wrong
.”

Bane glared at me and put a finger to his lips.

“Look,” snapped Carla, “what do you three want? Tell me quick before I hang up.”

“We were actually hoping you might join us for a little enterprise,” said Bane calmly.

A deafening snort from Carla and the line went dead.

We looked glumly at each other.

“Call back,” said Jon.

“She just laughed in our faces and hung up,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but… well, I didn’t get to know them as well as you, but it seems to me Carla always acts first and thinks afterwards. And Francesco was always more ready to listen, wasn’t he?”

“Jon’s got a point,” said Bane. He dialled again. Francesco picked up almost at once.

“Say that again?”

“We were hoping you might join us for something.”

“Join
you
. Carla can’t decide if she finds the idea more amusing or more offensive and I know how she feels.”

“Look, we’d like you to join us in something that will cause the EuroGov untold amounts of trouble. We mostly want you in an advisory capacity. We’re not going to line up EuroGov employees in front of you and not let you kill them – I think that would be stressful for all concerned.”

“What is this enterprise?”

“We’re not discussing that over the phone, are we.”

A long silence, broken only by angry mutters of Italian from Carla.

“Untold amounts of trouble for the EuroGov, you say?”

“Think of the sort of trouble they’ve had since Margo escaped and times it by, ooh, ten, say.”

“Hmm.” Silence. “We’ll give you a hearing, at least.”

“We will not!” Carla.

“
I’ll
give you a hearing, then,” said Francesco. “When can you be in Rome?”

“Could you come to Ostia, or preferably Naples? Or Civitavecchia?” All ports.

“Civitavecchia, then.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

The hair was standing up on my arms. I’d known this was coming, ‘cause no one talked details over a phone. Untraceable wasn’t the same as uninterceptable and the Ministry for Internal Affairs had the best decryption computers in the world. But I’d not been letting the knowledge pop to the surface.

“Don’t bring the silver-tongued witch,” snarled Carla, “and I’ll listen to you. Just
you
.”

“Margo isn’t going anywhere,” said Bane firmly. “She’s far too recognisable.”

My hand rose to my forehead, tracing the cross-shaped scar, a little memento from Major Everington. Doctor Frederick said it would be years before it faded, if it ever did. At this moment, I could almost be grateful for it. Except… Bane was talking about going off alone, into EuroGov territory.

“Can’t he bring anyone?” I asked.

“He can bring
anyone
,” said Carla nastily, “he just can’t bring you or the eyeless wonder.”

Francesco muttered something in Italian that sounded like the Latin for, ‘Be nice’ – Carla snorted and went quiet again.

“Don’t worry,” said Jon dryly, “I have absolutely no desire to come and visit you.”

“Seems to be mutual,” murmured Francesco. “Okay, when?”

“Three days,” said Bane. He’d thought this all through already.

“Okay. In the main square in Civitavecchia there’s a central statue. I’ll be there at midday. If it’s safe, I’ll be wearing a shirt the colour of the sofas in the house at Milan. If this call’s been picked up and they’re waiting for you, I’ll be wearing a shirt the colour of the kitchen curtains. Remember the colours?”

“Yes.” Sensible precautions.

“Okay. Walk past me and chuck a cent in the fountain if it’s safe, or don’t chuck one if you think you’re being followed and we’ll see if we can do anything about it. I’ll stroll off, you follow. I’ll take you somewhere where we can talk. Okay?”

“Yes. Is there a better number to use now?”

Francesco hesitated.

“No, use this one. We won’t put the phone away again.” No wonder it’d taken them a while to answer the first time – a painful reminder of Luciano, they’d probably buried the phone in the bottom of a suitcase or something. Good job it was modern enough to have autoOn.

“Okay.”

“Wednesday, statue in Civitavecchia central square. See you there.” Francesco hung up.

I sat very still, feeling like an ancient alarm clock ready to scatter its springs everywhere if knocked.

“Margo?” Bane sounded wary. “You, uh, knew this would be necessary, right?”

I nodded. Couldn’t look at him. I stared at the wall, fighting to hold myself together. Why did I seem to be made of jelly these days?

“It’ll be okay, Margo,” said Jon. “You know Eduardo will make him a fake ID, programme it into the EuroGov system and everything.”

“With a safe ID, I can go anywhere,” said Bane lightly. “Takes away at least ninety-five percent of the risk. Safe as houses.”

He slipped an arm around me and I turned, my fingers twisting into his shirt. Rested my forehead against his neck and drew in deep, deep breaths. Wasn’t going to cry. Not
again
.

With safe IDs, the three of us could’ve travelled across Europe by train in twenty-four hours. Bane was right. A day trip to Civitavecchia was no cause for alarm.

The next day was so busy with planning and preparations it went in a flash, each minute crawling by like an eternity. We went over every possible argument for Carla and Francesco joining us, but the biggest fear was that they wouldn’t think it worth doing anything involving nonLees – for anyone or for any reason.

“This should help,” said Bane on Monday evening, flicking the ID card declaring him to be Michael Walters from York.

“How?” I went over all the useful things laid out on the sitting room table yet again. Penknife, wallet full of eurons, omniPhone – not as good as Bane’s old one…

“Well, as a last, last resort, Eduardo cleared me to offer them both one.”

Jon whistled.

“New IDs. Now that really might tempt them – they’re almost impossible to fake, unless you can access the EuroGov system. Eduardo must be keen on this project.”

“Yes, I think he is.” Bane glanced at me. “It’s all there, Margo, seriously, sit down and relax, hmm?”

Settling on the sofa beside him, I cuddled close, though I’d not had much time to sit around thinking today and didn’t really want to start now. Bane was leaving in the morning. Alone – if the EuroGov caught him or the Resistance turned on him, an extra person would just be an extra corpse.

After a wholly sleepless night, I went down to Mass with Jon as though it was just a normal day. Bane came too.

“Make sure I set off calm, anyway,” he said airily, as we headed to breakfast afterwards.

Jack and another young VSS agent caught us up in the corridor – we greeted them cheerfully. We already counted our fellow Brit as a friend.

“Hi,” Jack echoed. “I was hoping to catch you before Bane left. Eduardo wondered if you’d like to sign this.” He offered me the clipboard he was carrying.

“What is it?”

“It’s a petition got up by a Human Rights organisation based in the United States of South America calling for the retrial of Major Lucas Everington and an investigation into the original trial.”

Took a moment for that to penetrate the Bane-obsessed haze of worry that enveloped me – then I plucked the pen from its mount at once.

“Yeah, I’ll sign it.”

“The boss doesn’t think for a moment the EuroGov are going to pay the blindest bit of attention,” said the other agent quickly, as I started filling in the top line of the form, “Unicorn forgot to mention that little fact...”

“I didn’t forget, Snail,” said Jack. “I just thought pointing it out was redundant – oh, leave the address blank, obviously – I mean, did you think this petition was going to miraculously save the man, Margo?”