Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) (7 page)

I didn’t fall asleep again. Tension was tying my stomach in a knot.
Relax, Margo
. Having failed to locate us with the satellite, it would surely take them some time to get over their assumption that this was a – albeit peculiarly bloodless – Resistance raid, and the Resistance had no interest in ports.
Near the coast is the last place they’ll look... Right, Lord?

The forest began to clear. Suddenly the sea spread out below us, a moonlit expanse. The road sloped down ahead to where a shadowy fishing village nestled in a cove.

“All stop,” said Bane. “Snuff your candles.”

The trucks pulled in behind one another and the headlights were switched off.

“Ten minutes,” added Bane. “Stamp and Letter, stand by.”

Those ten minutes felt every bit as long as the hour in the tunnel, despite the stunningly beautiful moonlit scene spread out on either side of the truck-in-front’s tailgate. Finally my earpiece spoke again.

“This is Stamp, I see White Water One, permission to go surfing.”

“Stamp, Letter, go ride some waves.”

The two front trucks set off down the hill, acting as much like casual civilian vehicles as two four-ton canvas-roofed military-type
lorries
could. The rest of us crept forward without turning on our headlights, so Envelope had a good view of the jetty. And waited some more.

“This is Envelope, White Water One is heading for home. White Water Two is in sight.”

“Envelope and Frank, surfing time, off you go.”

Two more trucks did the vehicular equivalent of saunter off down the road. You’d think at three in the morning you could do something like this unseen, but
someone
would probably look out the window.

Only two of us left, now. We inched forward again. Stopped. Waited. My ears strained for Airmail’s voice. Come on… come one… surely it’s taking longer than last time? What if there’s a problem with White Water Three? What if…”

“This is Airmail, White Water Two is heading for home. I have White Water Three in sight.”

“Let’s go surfing,” said Bane, but I felt the long breath he let out first.

Boyracer’s teeth gleamed in the darkness as he grinned.

Thank you, Lord...

Cruising through the village, we stopped for the amount of time it took Airmail to drive along the narrow jetty and onto the boat, then followed. The gangplank rumbled and shifted alarmingly, but somehow we manoeuvred into the implausibly small amount of space remaining on the deck.

By the time Boyracer cut the engine, the boat was already turning sharply to clear the rocks and heading out to sea, beginning to rise and fall alarmingly. Putting the truck in gear, he hauled on the handbrake as tightly as he could, then we all piled out to help the sailors slip great hooks over the axles and lash it down, then rig up the camouflage ‘netting’ of padded sacks. Untidy deck cargos of food did actually dock at Gozo from time to time – though hopefully we’d be there before the satellite got a look.

That done, we allowed the sailors to usher us below to eat, sleep, and crash out. So far, so good.

***+***

6

SCHOOLBOYS IN A SWEET SHOP

All three White Waters made such good speed that by the time Airmail and ourselves pulled up to the base of the Citadel, Stamp and Letter were coming down the ramp, unloaded already.

“We’re taking these big babies to their kennels.” Stamp spoke on the earpiece, rather than wind down his window and get a cab full of dust. “Envelope and Frank are being unloaded now. If you go and wait halfway up the ramp, you can get in there as soon as they come out. Eduardo thinks we can get it all unloaded now if we don’t waste a second.”

On they drove. Twenty of the closer ruined houses were each now home to a truck, though we’d only needed six of them for this mission.

The engine bellowed as we crawled upwards. We were heavily laden. Only minutes later Envelope and Frank came through the Citadel gates, wheel arches noticeably higher. There must be many willing hands inside.

Folding our mirrors in, we inched carefully through the narrow arch behind Airmail and the willing hands practically swamped us. With eight people to a crate, each was slid quickly down a board laid from tailgate to ground and borne off into the Administrative block. Bane and I could hardly get to help and our driver was told to stay in the cab.

“Clear!” Eduardo banged on the truck side as the tailgate was flipped up and latched. “Get this thing out of here, double quick.”

The satellite was due in about five minutes... The trucks inched back through the arch and tore off down the hill, bouncing jauntily on their unburdened springs. The last crate vanished inside and Eduardo herded everyone after it.

“Clear the square, looks like a carnival out here. Inside, everyone… Team members
only
to the main conference room.”

Ah yes, time to open the goodies. Bane made to head that way, but... A tired-looking figure sat at the base of the cathedral steps with two sticks resting in the crook of his arm.

“Bane…” I nodded to the steps. “Let’s get Jon.”

“Are you actually planning on getting better any time soon, mate?” demanded Bane, heading that way. “’Cause you look worse every time I see you.”

“Ha ha,” said Jon wearily. “I’ll leave you with those two for a couple of days and see what you look like, shall I?”

“That bad?” I said sympathetically.

“Oh yes. And the worst thing is I have to keep pretending I don’t want an arm, but I really do. Could I have an arm, please?”

We took his arms and heaved him to his feet.

“Ah, thanks.”

“So where are the terrible two?” asked Bane.

“Gone.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, as soon as they heard the mission was a complete success, they looked at the Sat chart and the next safe slot’s not until late tonight, so they were off to the harbour at once to catch this one. Asked me to say, ‘we did it for Luciano so don’t thank us,’ and ‘no, thank you, we don’t want any of the toy guns’. Which I’ve now said. So let’s forget about them.”

A moment of silence and he added abruptly, “Praise the Lord, I’m so glad you’re back safe.” Flung his arms around us each in turn and hugged us, burying his face in my hair for slightly too long. Bane pretended not to notice. Jon looked that washed out.

Jon let go of me at last and, as we headed on across the square, I was struck by a strange realisation... if someone came up to me right now and told me my parents had been killed, I’d be terribly upset, but if something happened to Bane or Jon, I’d be devastated. They’d become my immediate family. My… pack.

“So how was it, Margo?” Jon dragged me from chewing on this guilt-inducing truth. “Were you okay?”

After all the waterworks in the last month... fair enough question.

“Fine, actually. I’m not saying actually getting on the boat wasn’t one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life, but… once I was on it… certainly once it was too late to go back, well, we just spent three months in EuroBloc territory, didn’t we? Seems I’m actually kind of used to it. Though I think I was getting a false sense of security from being with a whole group of super confident guys too stupid to be frightened, but there we are.”

“Thank you,” said Bane, in mock offence.

“I wasn’t actually referring to you. But I swear some of those young guards actually think it’s dead cool to be risking martyrdom like the priests and sisters always do.” The EuroGov didn’t lay its hands on Swiss guards very often, but when they did they tended to treat them as though their very existence ‘incited and promoted superstition’.

“As far as I’m aware,” Bane was trying to keep a straight face, “all those ‘young guards’ are several years older than us.”

“Oh, Lord help me, you’re right.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. “When did I get middle-aged?” Jon sniggered, so I gave him a gentle poke with my elbow. “
Anyway
, it was much better than I expected.”

“Good,” said Jon. “That’s good. Any chance you’ll stay at home next time?”

“What, now I’ve proved I can do it?” I tried not to get annoyed. “That’s not the point, Jon. And no.”

“Smooth, Jon, very smooth,” said Bane.

“Well, you can’t blame me for trying.”

“With all the subtlety of a pickaxe.”

“Oh, like you’re going to do any better!”

I ignored them and concentrated on getting Jon up the steps. By the time we reached the top, all six members of the postal service were jogging through the gates, trucks put to bed. They beat us to the main conference room, where the army of helpers had stacked the crates in piles according to what was stamped on the sides. With one of each type arranged along a wall, the team waited impatiently in what little space remained.

“Uh, is everyone else here?” asked Bane. “Full check, please.”

We all gave our code name in sequence – everyone who’d risked their life deserved to be here for this.

“Have we got a can opener?” asked Bane. Father Mark held up a handful of small flat cylindrical things and placed one on the lock of the first crate. “Uh, we’re quite positive there’s nothing explosive in there, right?” Bane edged in front of me slightly, as though that would help if we accidentally set off a whole crate of explosives.

Eduardo waved his networkAccessor.

“Nothing explosive anywhere on the train’s manifest and the codes on the side of the boxes correspond to nonLethal tech. Let’s crack them open.”

“Okay.” Bane nodded to Father Mark and everyone moved away and turned their backs.

Crack.

Fox One and Fox Two wrestled the lid up and everyone crowded forward as though they’d never seen a nonLee before. Father Mark pulled aside a rectangle of foam to reveal… actually, worth a look. Rows of gleaming, brand new nonLethal pistols, a newer model than any I’d seen. Better still, two spare power magazines nestled beside each one.

“Wow, look at these.” Fox Two picked one up. “Sleek.”

“Brilliant.” Bane handed one to Jon to feel.

“Shiny, aren’t they.” Jon ran his hands over it appreciatively, making no move to get up from his crate seat.

“Better than shiny!” said Kyle.

Father Mark examined one with a mixture of professional interest and personal distaste. Not keen on any type of weapon. But he knew what to do with them.

“I like these.” Eduardo actually cracked a small smile, sighting down the barrel at the wall. “Look like they should be more accurate.”

Father Mark gave a slight grunt of agreement, then got back to passing them out so everyone had one to look at.

“They’re probably not charged, but if anyone fires one of these things, they’ll still be on extra sentry duty for a month,” warned Eduardo.

“What about those of us who don’t do sentry duty?” asked Sister Krayj sweetly.

“Pretty much anyone in here who isn’t liable for extra sentry duty, I trust not to play with the safety catch.”

Most of the people in here were under orders of the military kind. Hyena was a layman, but the Foxes, the Fish, Gerbil, the Birds and Giraffe were all Swiss Guards, whilst Hippo and Elephant were Vatican Police. Like Alligator (Jack) and Snail (Jacques!), Grass Snake and Bumblebee were VSS, Eduardo’s men. Bane had rescued Jack from official re-Christening as ‘Unicorn’ by saying that mythical beasts must be kept in reserve as code names for a future team. Jack had promptly picked Alligator, probably because it was the least similar animal imaginable!

“Let’s have them back, then,” Bane was saying. “And look in the next one.”

The pistols were replaced, the lid forced down again, and Father Mark repeated his trick with another ‘can opener’. Again the Foxes dragged the lid up and removed the foam. A short, delighted silence from everyone.

“Oh yes!” said Bane, “
These
are the things!”

Everyone reached for one at once, crowding forward.

“Just pass them round,” urged Father Mark. “Or we’ll have to unpack the whole crate.”

One arrived in my hands at last and I examined it. A rifle. A nonLee rifle. Very cutting edge.
Very
expensive. I raised the butt to my shoulder and looked through the sights – nothing far enough away for it to focus on.

“These are the things,” I agreed. Actually, our whole plan rested on these. If there’d been none on the train, it would’ve been
very, very
disappointing.

The gleaming rifles were eventually reclaimed from their admiring fans and we moved on to the second to last crate. This time the awed silence went on for several moments.

“Oh yes!” exulted Bane, snatching up one of the long, elegant sniper rifles. “This is the thing for you, Brown Bird.” He deposited the small fortune of military technology in my hands.

I looked it over. Much like the rifles, just longer and sleeker in every way. A much more serious telescopic sight on top. The range would be considerably longer. Hence why Bane wanted to give me one. Keep me further from the machine guns.

“I’ll be happy to use one if I’m the best person.”

“You are. Here, Pussycat, take a look.” He passed one to Sister Krayj, as well.

I shot Father Mark an appealing look, afraid Bane was letting his heart overrule his tactical sense. But Father Mark just smiled slightly.

“He’s right. You’re two of our best shots, neither of you would be here otherwise. And
you
certainly can’t go hand to hand with anyone, Margo, so until the guards are neutralised, you’re the logical choice to be far away with that thing.”

I shrugged and passed the rifle on to Snail and Bumblebee, who were trying to look like suave Vatican Secret Servicemen and not hop up and down with eagerness. Certainly I’d no excuse not to hit the target with one of
those
.

“Only half a carriage of those,” Eduardo told Bane. “But we’ve a good number.”

The guys drooled over the sniper rifles for
ages
. Sister Krayj and I sat down on either side of Jon and began yawning. Father Mark joined us and helped me struggle out of the boa constrictor vest.

“That one didn’t really feel much different from the one before.” Jon sounded bemused.

“Oh, to be a fly on the wall when the EuroGov get that invoice.” Father Mark smiled rather less pleasantly than usual.

“How much do you think this little lot’s going to come to?” I asked.

“Goodness knows. Millions of Eurons.”

“How much credit have we got?”

Father Mark burst out laughing.

“Drop in the ocean, this will be. They really, really owe us a lot of money.”

“It’s going to be one gracious reconciliation gesture if and when we finally have peace and the Holy Father lets them off that debt,” said Sister Krayj.

“You think it’ll never be paid?” I said.

“How could it possibly be paid? They’ve spent it all. They’d have to wring it out of their innocent –
fairly innocent
– citizens, and insisting on that’s just not our style, is it.”

“True.”

“Useful to have the credit now, you must admit,” said Father Mark. “Whoa… you’d better catch Jon…”

I hastily slipped an arm around Jon and sat him up. He stirred enough to nestle his cheek against my shoulder and nodded straight off again. Guessing he’d not got much more sleep than we had.

“Hey, guys!” Sister Krayj raised her voice. “It’s a
rifle
. It’s a
really good
rifle. End of story. Now I don’t know about you but I’d like to get some shut eye so shall we take a look in that last crate?”

Reluctantly, the sniper rifles were passed back and put away. The final crate was opened. Everyone stared in bewilderment.

“What are they?” asked Jack.

Father Mark lifted out a cylindrical object he could just touch finger to thumb around and examined it.

“Looks like a grenade. But there’s no pin.”

“There aren’t supposed to be any explosives!” Eduardo began to stab rather indignantly at his networkAccessor with his stylus.