Wanted (Flick Carter Book 1) (13 page)

The Choosing had been established in the early years of the New Kingdom, some fifty years after The Collapse. It was a rite of passage for every fifteen year old, marking the transition between childhood and adulthood. It was also a marketplace where employers came to choose their apprentices. In bigger towns and cities, the Choosing was a major event in its own right, with many trades and professions, but in a small town like Faringdon, choices were limited both for the youngsters and for the tradesmen. For most, the choice was simple; the family trade, or the Watch. The Watch mostly mopped up anyone that hadn’t been chosen for another trade, which gave it a reputation for being an unruly mob of ne’er-do-wells.

Love was often found or lost at the Choosing, and wedding plans made or abandoned as the prospective bride or groom stayed or left town for good to start a new life elsewhere. No surprise that the bitter February month was often a busy time for the midwife.

Flick caught Adam’s eye and waved. Adam grinned and held both thumbs up. He felt confident.

The mayor’s words were familiar, Adam had heard them many times before, and wondered who these
best and brightest
might possibly be. Nobody in his memory had ever been chosen to study the sciences, and if law enforcement meant the Watch, well, Adam actually
wanted
to join! Case closed!

The mayor continued, ‘I will now call out the names of the candidates, and the choices will be made.’ He consulted his sheet of paper and called out the first name, ‘Ned Elliott.’

There was silence as Ned stepped forward and climbed onto the stage.

‘I choose,’ came a call from the crowd.

The mayor pointed, and the owner of the voice stepped forward.

‘Stafford’s the name,’ the man said, ‘blacksmith from over Carterton way. I be needing a ‘prentice.’

The mayor nodded, and the clerk wrote the details down in his ledger. Ned Elliott left the stage for a life of blacksmithing.

The mayor read out the next name, and Carolyn Grace took the stage, but nobody called out, and the mayor said simply, ‘Watch.’ She went to stand by Captain Marley, the disappointment obvious on her face.

‘Derek Murcheson,’ the mayor called, and Del took the stage. Once more there were no takers from the crowd, but this time, the mayor himself looked the boy up and down. ‘I choose him to work as a manual labourer on my estates,’ he announced.

Del grinned and put both thumbs up. Manual labour for the mayor mostly meant bullying, and he was good at that. The mayor took Ron, but Colin was chosen by his father to go into his tailoring business, which just left Adam.

The mayor called his name out, and Adam climbed the steps onto the stage. He stood looking out at the crowd, hoping no one would call out. He looked around nervously and spotted Dad and Flick in the crowd. He grinned and they waved back.
 

Then Mayor Griffin leaned over to him. With a fixed grin on his face he said,
sotto voce,
so only Adam could hear, ‘I know about your little toy.’

Adam turned in alarm and saw the radio he’d stolen from Flick concealed in the mayor’s hand. Cold fingers gripped his chest and he had an uncontrollable urge to jump off the stage and disappear into the crowd. He wobbled slightly and hands gripped his arms tightly from behind.

‘We don’t want you falling over,’ the mayor said quietly. ‘It is, after all, such a stressful event, your…
Choosing
. And thank you for this little toy, it will be most… useful.’

Adam looked around in alarm and saw two of the mayor’s thugs. Now he realised that taking the radio had been the second most stupid thing he’d ever done, after letting the mayor get hold of it. He wanted to find Flick, to tell her he was sorry, to warn her that Mayor Griffin had the radio, and who knew what he planned to do with it. But even though he struggled, the two thugs’ grip held fast and he couldn’t move. Black spots swam before his eyes. He tried to shout, but no words came out.

The mayor puffed himself up and looked out over the audience. Then he shouted, ‘I choose…’

But he was cut off by the sound of his two thugs collapsing onto the stage. Adam just stood, barely aware of what was happening, as one of the Kingsmen calmly announced, ‘Adam Carter will be coming with us.’

Then it was as if the world caught up with his ears and Adam felt the blood drain from his face. People told to
go
with Kingsmen disappeared just as surely as people they arrested. Adam didn’t know what happened to them, but he did know they never came back. He thought of the Kingsman woman that day in the museum. Why wasn’t she here? She’d know he’d tried to do the right thing, wouldn’t she?
 

The first Kingsman left the stage and the second prodded him forward. For a moment he was rooted to the spot. He didn’t want to disappear; he wanted to join the Watch; to be with his mates: Fred, Stanley, Bill, Harry, Robby Porter, and even Berry. He never wanted
this
.

A second prod was all that it took to get Adam’s legs working, and the Kingsmen silently led him down the hill, away from the tower, away from his friends, away from everyone he knew.

Flick turned to her father. ‘What just happened? Did Adam just get arrested?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, sounding confused. ‘I don’t think so… Why would they arrest him? It looked more like he was chosen for the Kingsmen. But I’ve never heard of such a thing happening.’

‘Does that mean Adam will be going away?’ Rosie asked.

‘Yes honey, I expect so,’ her dad said. ‘They’ll go away for training, but I expect he’ll be back to visit. Come on, we can go and talk to the Kingsmen and they’ll tell us all about it.’

Shea tapped on Flick’s arm, gesturing for her to stay.

‘Er, I’ll catch you guys up in a minute,’ she said.

‘Don’t be too long!’ Rosie called as she and her father pushed through the milling people to get to the stage.

Flick turned to Shea. ‘Was that anything to do with you know what?’ she hissed.

Shea shrugged. ‘Dunno. I doubt it though. The Kingsmen don’t work like that. If they want you they just take you away, or you disappear. I think he’s one of them now. But remember what I said before. I think you need to be even more careful now.’

‘Are you suggesting Adam would…’ Then she thought about how Adam had reacted when the wreckage had been found.

‘Look, I really don’t think you should be here. I don’t know what tomfool idea made you come here in the first place, but wherever you’ve been hiding, you really should go back, before someone spots you. Now I have to go and say goodbye to Adam. I don’t want to find you still here when I get back.’

She turned to look for her father and Rosie. She spotted them in front of the stage, talking to Adam. The two Kingsmen, still on the stage were chatting animatedly to the mayor, who nodded vigorously.

She was about to go when the Town Crier’s voice boomed out across the clearing. ‘All persons here present shall hearken and pay attention to His Worship the Mayor.’

It sounded very formal, so she stopped to see what was going on. Mayor Griffin stood on the stage, waiting for people to settle down. Flick thought he looked flustered, and briefly wondered why. Then he looked around the clearing, with a grave expression on his face.

‘It has come to my attention,’ he shouted, ‘that there is a dangerous criminal at large.’

‘Well, there are plenty of those,’ muttered Flick under her breath, ‘not least the one that’s talking now.’

Mayor Griffin continued, ‘And not just in the area. There have been reports that this… criminal… has been seen here, today. At this very festival.’

He paused for effect, and there were a few gasps from what remained of the crowd. Then he continued, ‘If you see this person, you are not to approach him, or talk to him, but come and find me, or a member of the Watch, or one of these two fine Kingsmen here.’

‘This is the man.’ He nodded to the two Kingsmen, who unrolled the large canvas they were carrying, to reveal the rough sketched portrait of a man.

Flick recognised the face instantly: it was Shea. She turned back to confront him, but he was gone.

MAYOR GRIFFIN’S WORDS struck like blows from a fist. Shea quickly realised that his only chance to stay free, to stay alive, was to disappear, and fast. It was lucky that much of the crowd was already drifting back towards the town, but that poster would soon be on display everywhere. He had to admit that Flick was right; he never should have come here, and he cursed himself for his stupidity.

He carefully crept back into the cover of the trees and from there worked his way around to the side of the hill farthest from town. Here, a narrow track led down the hill towards the main road. Shea made a dash down this track, running with all his might, until he reached another break of trees. When he was safely back under cover, he paused, panting hard and wondering what to do next.

The Safe House!
If anywhere was going to be safe, it was the Safe House. It was not far away, but it was also close to the mayor’s mansion and from what he’d heard, the mayor had lots of thugs who were probably out looking for him right now. He hoped they would be mostly up at the folly, and not looking so close to home. Shea smiled at the irony and set off through the woods.
 

He reached the door in Church Street some twenty minutes later, and knocked in a particular pattern; first once, then twice, and then finally three times. He stepped back and looked up and down the street, making sure he wasn’t being observed. Behind him was the churchyard, quiet and gloomy, the ancient grave stones sticking up like malevolent teeth, glowing red as they caught the late afternoon sun.

The door opened a crack and a middle aged woman peered out.

‘Yes?’ she asked.

‘A weary traveller seeks rest,’ Shea said, reciting the first part of a pass phrase he’d been taught in training.

‘There are inns for those that need them,’ came the reply.

‘For others there is no room,’ Shea said.

The door closed. After a few moments there was the sound of a chain being released and the door opened once more.

‘Come in!’ the woman said.

Shea entered the house and followed her along a narrow, dark passageway and through the door at the end into a small but well appointed kitchen. She introduced herself as Angela, and pointed at a plain wooden chair by the table.

‘Have a seat. The kettle’s on, would you like some tea?’

Shea’s face lit up, ‘Real proper tea?’

Angela nodded. ‘Yes, it’s hard to get around here, and very expensive. But we like to keep some for special occasions.’

‘In that case I should be honoured,’ Shea said.

Angela poured the tea into two bone china cups. A third was set out on the dresser. ‘My husband should be back soon,’ she said.

Shea nodded and sipped his tea.

Some time later Shea heard the sound of a key in the lock. He jumped, but Angela held up a finger, signalling him to hold still. The door creaked open and then shut with a clunk. Footsteps came down the hallway and stopped outside the kitchen door. The knob slowly started to turn and the door creaked open. In walked Frank Bumpenny, the vicar.

Shea glanced across at Angela, who nodded, smiling. He stood and held out his hand. ‘Shea O’Connell, sir.’

The vicar shook the proffered hand. ‘Frank. Frank Bump-knee,’ He replied, over-emphasising the pronunciation. Shea realised it was probably a very old habit. ‘I guess you must be the kid we’ve been hearing so much about. You’ve caused quite a buzz…’

‘Yeah, about that…’ Shea started.

Frank cut him off abruptly. ‘I don’t need–or want–to know. What I don’t know can’t be forced out of me by the mayor and his cohorts, or by the Kingsmen, or by anyone else for that matter. The important thing is that you’re in one piece, and we must get a message to your parents to tell them you’re okay. I’m sure they’ve been worried out of their skins.’

‘I lost my radio…’ Shea began.

Frank held his hand in the air. ‘You can tell me all that in a moment. But first…’ he turned to his wife and kissed her on the cheek, ‘…what I could really do with, Angela, is a good cup of tea.’

Angela winked at Shea, who grinned. ‘Coming right up, honey.’ She poured a cup from the pot and set it on the table. They sat. ‘Shea and I were just discussing the price of tea, and how hard it is to get,’ she said.

Frank sipped at his tea meditatively and sighed, ‘That’s good.’ When he put his cup down, he asked, ‘So how much do you know, son?’

‘Not much, probably,’ replied Shea. ‘I know–at least I think–this is supposed to be Receiving Station Kilo-One-Seven, but I didn’t get a thorough briefing. I’m not really supposed to be here at all.’

‘No kidding!’ said Frank. ‘After you disappeared, all hell broke loose. Everyone and his mother has been looking for you, our side and theirs. And the mayor. So what happened?’

‘I was dumb. Too close to the ground. Got an arrow in the motor. Crashed.’

‘Well, at least you’re in one piece. Damage? What happened to the radio?’

‘Destroyed, I’m afraid. I was pretty well banged up, and had to hole up for a few days. I lost the radio somewhere before the crash. At least I searched the site and never found it.’ Shea coughed before continuing, ‘Had a little help from some locals. Nice girl…’

Frank raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
 

Shea cleared his throat uncomfortably, reaching without thinking to adjust his collar. ‘Anyhow, she brought me supplies and some snares. Then I had to leg it out of there. Someone must have tipped off the local plod, as they turned up in force and grabbed the wreckage.’

‘Was it the girl, do you think?’

‘I don’t reckon it was, no.’

‘She could swing for aiding and abetting if they found out she’d been helping you in secret,’ said Frank. ‘Don’t let your trousers do the job of your head…’

‘I think I’m a fair judge of character. She didn’t tell anybody. But the big problem is that the plod, and possibly the Kingsmen too by now, have bits of at least one solar wing, even if it is busted.’