The Dead

‘Where’d you pick this lot up, brother?’ he asked. ‘You got yourself an escort?’

‘I needed one.’

DogNut looked at Ed’s ruined face with a pained expression. ‘Yow,’ he said. ‘You want to get that seen to.’

‘Yeah, I will,’ said Ed, moving towards the doors. ‘Let’s go inside. I need to sit down.’

DogNut put up a hand.

‘You know Jordan’s rules,’ he said, and nodded towards David and the others. ‘They can’t come in.’

‘Oh, don’t be so silly,’ said David, and before DogNut could do anything he pushed past him and took his boys inside.

DogNut turned to Ed, looking panicked.

‘Ed!’

‘I’m not responsible for them, DogNut.’

‘You brought them here.’

‘Had no choice, really.’

‘Hold up.’ DogNut looked puzzled. ‘Where’s Jack and Bam? Ain’t they with you?’

Ed followed David inside. ‘No,’ he said bluntly over his shoulder as DogNut hurried after him.

‘What do you mean?’ said DogNut. ‘Where they at? They coming back?’

‘No,’ said Ed. ‘They’re not coming back.’

‘You mean they –’

‘DogNut!’ Ed snapped. ‘They’re dead, all right?’

‘Shit …’

Inside the museum it was chaos. David’s boys were milling around and Jordan’s guards were shouting at them.

‘Ed, you got to sort this out, man,’ said DogNut.

‘Not my problem.’

Kids were filtering out of the café to see what was going on. Brooke was among them. When she saw Ed, she broke out into a broad eager smile and trotted over to him. Halfway there, though, she caught sight of his wounds and stopped dead, one hand up to her mouth, her eyes wide.

‘Oh, Ed,’ she said into her fingers. ‘What have they done to you?’

Ed felt suddenly deflated. Everything that had happened in the last few days came tumbling down on top of him. What had they done to him? Tears came into his eyes. Someone pushed past. He ignored it. The angry shouting of the boys in the atrium sounded a million miles away. Through a film of tears he saw Brooke shaking her head, backing away, horrified. Before he could say anything, Jordan appeared at the head of the stairs.

‘Be quiet!’ he shouted, and miraculously everyone fell silent. All eyes turned as he came down, his long military coat rustling on the stone steps.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked, and David stepped out of the crowd.

‘I’m David King,’ he said. ‘We brought Ed Carter back for you.’

‘He doesn’t belong to me.’

‘He lives here, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re in charge, aren’t you?’

‘I am.’

‘Then he belongs to you.’ David was holding his hand out. ‘You must be Jordan Hordern,’ he said.

Jordan looked at David’s hand through his thick glasses, but didn’t make any attempt to shake it.

‘Thanks for helping Ed,’ said Jordan. ‘But I’m afraid you’re go

‘I understand that,’ said David. ‘I would do the same in your position. But might I talk to you for a minute?’

‘You might,’ said Jordan, intrigued by David’s strange, stiff, grown-up ma

‘They’ll wait inside, actually,’ said David. ‘I don’t want them exposed to any danger. I’ve got them all the way here from Surrey. I’m responsible for them. They stay with me.’ He was so firm, so sure of himself, that Jordan was taken aback. He looked round at the scattering of red blazers.

‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘But they stay here in the atrium. And no trouble. Whatever you and I agree on they don’t argue about, OK?’

‘They won’t be any trouble. They’ll do whatever I tell them.’

David shouted some orders and the boys began to take off their packs and find places to sit.

‘You got ’em well drilled,’ said Jordan as he led David back upstairs.

‘Without discipline we would all be dead,’ said David. ‘Wasn’t it the explorer Roald Amundsen who said “adventure is just bad pla

‘Was it?’

‘I think it was.’

‘You remind me a lot of me,’ said Jordan. ‘And that is not necessarily a good thing. There’s not room here for two generals.’

‘I appreciate that,’ said David. ‘But I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.’

Jordan laughed briefly. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he said.

DogNut put a hand on Ed’s shoulder.

‘I’m sorry about Jack and Bam,’ he said. ‘They was good people.’

‘Yeah,’ said Ed. ‘The best. We should never have gone. Just three of us.’ He looked towards the café. Brooke had disappeared. ‘Is everyone all right here?’

‘Need to talk to you about that, blood.’

‘What?’ Ed looked at DogNut. He’d been assuming that the rest of the coach party were safe.

‘It’s the French girl,’ said DogNut.

‘Frédérique? What’s happened to her?’

‘You better come see for yourself. Don’t sweat, everyone else is fine. Is just her.’

‘Where is she? Is she hurt?’

‘We had to lock her up in the Blitz Experience,’ said DogNut, leading Ed to the back of the atrium. ‘To keep it safe.’

The Blitz Experience was a mock-up of a wartime air-raid shelter and part of a bombed-out London street. Ed had visited it once a couple of years ago. He remembered sound effects of planes going over and air-raid sirens and falling bombs and explosions, with radio a

DogNut fetched a candle and a rifle with a fixed bayonet and gave them to Ed, then, as they went down to the next level, he briefly explained what had happened.

‘D’you want me to come in with you?’ he asked as he unlocked the doors. ‘Just in case?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ed waited by the entrance. ‘Is she dangerous?’

‘She’s locked up. Handcuffed to a chain. But don’t get too close.’

‘I’ll see her alone.’ Ed stepped through into the darkness. ‘She knows me. She might be better with just one other person.’

‘All right. Good luck, brother.’ DogNut closed the door behind him.

61

The way in was through the fake air-raid shelter, little more than a concrete box with benches down the sides and reproductions of old wartime propaganda posters. Ed walked to the far end and went through to the main exhibit. There was a ruined street here with views across a miniature London skyline towards a cut-out of St Paul’s. He saw Frédérique at the far end by a bomb-damaged shop, sitting on an old wooden chair. She was hunched over, hugging herself, her arms tight over her stomach. She was bundled up in a big puffy jacket and a long skirt. A loop of chain snaked out from under her chair to an iron railing that was part of the set. There was a plate of untouched food next to her, a plastic bottle of water and a bucket that she hadn’t used. Lying on the floor next to the plate was what looked like a small, half-eaten chicken leg.

‘Frédérique …?’

As Ed approached her, she raised one hand to cover her eyes and gave a little gasp. Ed shielded the flame.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Is that better?’

‘It’s too bright,’ said Frédérique.

Ed wondered whether to blow the candle out – it was clearly distressing her. Instead he took it to the far end of the exhibit and put it behind the flat frontage of the London skyline. The flickering light gave a feeble impression of the old flame effect they’d used to bring the blitzed cityscape alive. He left the rifle down here as well, so as not to frighten Frédérique.

As he made his way back to her she watched him intently with staring eyes, her pupils so wide they looked like great black holes in her head.