Chapter 48

Various, England. Early July, the same year.

“Do you think it’s true? The rumours about the Americans and the Chinese I mean?”

Ted shrugged. “If it is, no one’s talking. But there were Chinese and other protesters outside the US embassy in Paris yesterday, and allegedly a number of US embassies in South-East Asia have been attacked as well.”

“Hmm.” Sophie frowned. “Well if it is true, I can’t see other nations helping the Americans much if and when they get attacked,”

“If it is true of course.”

Sophie nodded. “If,” she muttered. “I can’t decide whether it’s likely they have, or not. The problem is, I may be being prejudiced by some of Thorn’s propaganda, even unintentionally.” She briefly screwed up her face in indecision. “I know it’s propaganda, yet I can’t help thinking,” she paused.

“The problem with decent propaganda is that there’s always a hint of truth, or it’s based on a half-truth, even if it’s a historic truth. Something about it is provable, yet the whole lot is false.”

Sophie nodded. “I know, yet I can’t help thinking it’s something the Americans might do though.”

“So far as we’re aware, the Chinese have said nothing. Yet if the US did do what the rumours say they did, I can’t imagine Beijing staying silent for very long.” Ted looked at Sophie intending to continue, but at that moment Duncan, her platoon sergeant, marched into the room.

“I’ve been hearing a very odd rumour,” he said, “and I don’t know what to make of it. It’s unsettling some of the guys.”

“What rumour?” Sophie asked, glancing quickly to Ted and back.

“Oh, about how the Yanks hijacked supposedly secret Chink missiles in space to attack those swarm spheres last week. Presumably, so the rumour goes, so they could save their own missiles for any future attacks. According to one version, they redirected missiles that were aimed at the ship that landed in Africa to destroy one that was heading for the States.”

Ted nodded. It was the same rumour he and Sophie had been discussing moments earlier. “Well, it is all just a rumour. Unless or until we hear differently, we assume that. And whether it’s true or not, it does not affect us, even slightly.”

“Yes sir.”

Ted sighed. He had heard the rumour a few days ago. Joe had mentioned in passing that their Confederacy contacts were ‘all in a spin’ because of something that had happened that they hadn’t been expecting. The problem was, even if the rumour later turned out to be false, it could still cause lots of problems going forward. There would always be some who would not believe it was false.

“Right,” Ted said, “Let’s get down to business.” The three moved across to a large table where Ted proceeded to explain the next mission that had been planned for Sophie and her troops.

The siege that had started in Mid November was still in operation, yet pretty much the only people to be ‘hurt’ by it were the besiegers. There had been a surprise attack between Christmas and new year, when the attackers had got rather too close to their goal, before being pushed back with a great number of casualties. Aside from that, the besiegers had just sat and watched and waited, taking the occasional potshot at anyone they saw. In general the people in and around the estate stayed near the manor house and out of range of any small arms fire, but otherwise ignored it and carried on as normal. Or at least, made it look like they were, mostly to annoy and frustrate anyone watching. They also didn’t try and force their way out. They didn’t need to. About once a week a helicopter, sometimes a Merlin, sometimes a Chinook, swooped in, dropped off a load of supplies, exchanged personnel, and then high-tailed it out.

Each time the besiegers had opened up with what weapons they had, yet they never hit it, or if they did it was never anywhere important.

“Supplies incoming,” Steve Coats, recently promoted to sergeant, said.

“Thanks Sergeant,” muttered Captain Simnall as he rapidly skimmed through a recently arrived notice. He looked up at Coats. “We’ve been asked to help out in Oxford City Centre. The police are struggling slightly. Would you be up for that?”

Coats frowned. “Yes sir, I guess so.”

“Hmm, I know what you mean. But the Patrol and the TaF in particular, seem to be fighting back.”

“It was to be expected sir.”

“It was. But it’s a fortnight since they were told to stand down, and the police ordered to report for duty, I would have thought they’d have either fought before now, or just not bothered.”

“Getting their numbers together I expect, Sir. We know the TaF and the patrol have been kicked out of a lot of places, but I suspect they’ve just retreated and are licking their wounds.”

Simnall nodded. It was his belief as well. “Can we get out easily? Get a platoon into Oxford?”

Coats frown changed. Now it was thought rather than concern. “Easily,” he said after a moment. “But when, if, we gerrout, it’s still a twelve mile ‘ike to th’outskirts o’ Oxford, and we’ve no idea ‘ow we’ll be received.”

Simnall nodded. “Oxford, probably because of the colleges, has never been particularly favourable towards Thorn. It does make me wonder why the Patrol are fighting back here.”

“Yes sir. Any chance it’s a trap? Lure some of us out o’ here to make an attack easier?”

“It’s a good thought.” He rubbed his hands on his face. “All right Sergeant. You go and draw up a plan for getting out of here, choose your troops, but on paper only. I’ll go and run it past the Colonel in the first instance. If he’s against the idea, then we may use any plan you come up with to get out and encircle our own besiegers. It’s about time we fought back.”

“Yes sir.” Coats sounded much more relaxed about that idea.

“Do you know where Sergeant Goodwin is?”

“Medical, sir. Broke a bone a couple o’ days ago.”

“Oh, yes he did, sorry. Thank you Sergeant.”

“Sergeant Goodwin,” Simnall said a few minutes later as he entered a small room.

Tony looked up from his book.

“Sorry sir,” Said Tony, referring to his inability to stand.

“Don’t worry,” said Simnall dryly. “I’m well aware you can’t currently stand up. Left foot isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Right, well that’s what I’ve come to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Asked Tony guardedly.

“You have been referred to the Queen Elizabeth in Birmingham. There’s a helicopter coming in next Monday to take you out.”

“What are they going to do for me that any other doctor couldn’t do?” Tony looked frustrated. “It’s not as if I do it deliberately.”

“No Sergeant, I’m well aware of your, er, osteoporosis. To answer your question, I’ve no bloody idea. However,” he explained what Steve was about to do, and asked Tony to give him what help he could in planning, while he was still here.

“My knee bloody hurts,” whispered Robbie, in surprise.

“Have you banged it?” asked Jack, not really paying a great deal of attention.

“No. Not that I remember, anyway.”

“Well it’s not gonna stop you is it?”

“No. It’s not debilitating.”

Jack nodded. “There they are.” He stopped in surprise at the sight in front of him.

“What the hell’s happening?” asked Robbie, almost rhetorically as he too saw their target. They edged forward to try and find out what was going on. They watched for a few minutes, getting more and more amazed at the sight, unable to control themselves.

Barely thirty yards in front of them, two men, their targets, were involved in an argument. They were in full Patrol uniform, one in the very dark brown of the Security Patrol, one in the slightly lighter brown of the Safety Patrol. Both were Colonels, Regiment-Leaders in their own terminology. This wasn’t just an ordinary argument either. This one crackled with hate and spite, filled with fury and invective. It had obviously been going on for a little while and, as the argument had gone on, the volume had got louder and the tone had got lower. The two men, hate pouring off them, were so involved in their vicious verbal fight that they had long since lost any sense of propriety or awareness of who or what was around them.

Along with many others, Robbie was chuckling so much he could barely keep his hands steady, which was a problem as he had a stinger clutched firmly in one of them. Jack, standing beside him, had tears running down his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” Jack said, gasping for breath. “What is a fat-arsed, hyena-faced blood-sucking son of a sodding bitch?”

“A mongrel?” Robbie answered, barely holding on to his own laughter.

“Oh don’t, it hurts.” Jack pressed a hand to his heaving ribs. “It’s too much.”

The two of them just let go and roared with laughter. Only the fact that so many other people were also laughing at the spectacle; and that the two men involved were too busy furiously throwing insults at each other enabled Robbie and Jack to escape unnoticed by their targets.

Unfortunately, while the two Patrol officers were unaware of what was happening around them everyone else was fully aware of them. Indirectly, they were protected.

Jack and Robbie would have to wait for another moment to take out the two most senior Patrol officers in Portsmouth. As they were hurrying away, not quite running, Robbie suddenly stopped. “Oh hell,” he gasped. He bent down, slowly. “I think,” he paused, his breath coming in gasps. “I need to sit down,” he whispered.

Jack looked at him. “You okay mate, you look strange. Not well.”

“I feel suddenly weak. Dizzy.” There was a longer pause. “I’m guessing, but I think those nanites in my system are telling me my end is not too far away.”

Jack helped his long time friend to a nearby bench. “Is your missus at home?”

Robbie just nodded.

“Okay, I’ll give her a ring, tell her to come and get you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” gasped Robbie. “Can you ring Lucy as well?” He handed over his mobile phone, and Jack looked up the numbers.

“Dad?” Lucy was the first to arrive, with Peter looking rather dishevelled not far behind her.

Robbie looked up. “Hello love. I think, no, I know I’ve not got much longer. My whole body feels really strange.”

“All right, let’s get you home. I’m sure it’s not that bad. Mum rang just as I was about to come and get you, she’s waiting for you.”

Lucy, Peter and Jack helped Robbie into Lucy’s car, and then, with Peter driving, Lucy sat in the back with her father, holding him.

Jack, reluctantly, worriedly, carried on with his, their, mission, but in reality it was already a bust.

Robbie’s wife, Lucy’s mother, came out to meet the car as it arrived. “What have you done to yourself now?” she said. It was said with a little bit of annoyance, but in fact the expression on her face was of concern and worry.

“Don’t worry Joanie,” Robbie said with a slight smile, “I just feel a bit down.”

“Let’s get him into bed,” Joan told her daughter and grandson.

“I don’t need bed, I just need to sit and relax for a while.”

“Humour us, Dad,” Lucy murmured. “You’ve been gallivanting around for years. You’ve hardly slowed down and it’s all catching up with you.”

Robbie had no answer to that, that was exactly what was happening and he knew it. He didn’t know how much longer he had, but he guessed it wasn’t long.

Ten minutes later he was tucked up in bed, Peter and Lucy sitting with him while his wife went downstairs to make cups of tea for all of them.

“Can you leave us alone for a few minutes,” Robbie asked his grandson. “Keep your grandmother company. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

Peter nodded in surprise and left the room.

“Dad?” asked Lucy, puzzled.

Robbie smiled. He felt a lot better, just being able to relax had seemed to bring his strength, at least part way, back.

“There’s something you need to know love,” began Robbie. “I’ve been through one of those Confederacy medical tube things.”

Lucy looked shocked. “I thought they were supposed to double your life.”

Robbie shook his head. “Only your remaining life I believe. I think this is it. I’m guessing I’ve got a few more days or weeks left. If I’m right, it means that without it I’d have died anyway about three years ago. The difference is that this way I keep going almost to the end and I keep my marbles right to the end. No dementia or Alzheimer’s or anything like that.”

Lucy bent slowly forwards, her head on her father’s chest, gently sobbing.

“Now come on baby, I’ve had a good life and you were an amazing prize for me.”

“A late prize,” Lucy gulped.

“But all the better for that,” Robbie whispered. He had been forty-four when Lucy had been born; and Lucy still hadn’t quite reached forty.

Lucy just hugged her father to her for a moment before sitting up again. “I’m guessing you haven’t told Mum or Peter?”

Robbie shook his head. “I don’t know that your mum would have understood and I know she wouldn’t have wanted it for herself. Peter was too young to go in at the time, then it became too dangerous for political reasons. Since then, well, there’s been no time. Now’s the time he should be going in. And you. Talk to Jack.”

“Your friend Jack? From the scrap yard?”

“Yes. We served together.”

Suddenly everything dropped into place in Lucy’s mind. “You were both part of the underground,” she whispered. “How long?”

“Almost from the beginning. Before even Peter Lester.”

“Does Mum know?”

“No. And she’s not to know. I want to keep her safe. She,” he paused and smiled wryly. “She might not truly understand. I think she would, but...”

Lucy nodded slowly. “What about Peter? Does he know?”

“He knows, yes. He’s known about a year. Since just before his ‘A’ levels.

“He’s not involved as well is he?”

“He helps Jack out in the yard, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“Oh Dad!”

“I needed to keep him out of the hands of the Patrol. Working for Jack seemed like a good way to do it. He’s been a great help.”

“I suppose he needs to keep doing that?”

“Yes. It won’t be much longer I don’t think. A couple of Thorn’s cabinet have already surrendered, and one or two seem to have even gone into hiding. Thorn, Boase, Stewart and a few others are all still denying there’s even a problem.”

“I guess.”

“Let’s get Peter and your mum in again. They’ll be champing at the bit right now.”

Lucy gave a soft laugh. “Okay.”

“And keep all of this a secret from your mother. Okay?”

Lucy nodded.

Peter and Joan came in with a tray of tea, both of them looking puzzled.

Robbie was looking much better now, so after a cup of tea Lucy bid her parents good-bye and left for home, Peter promising to follow shortly afterwards.

“I told your mother about you and the Maquis,” Robbie told Peter when Joan left the room for a few moments. “She’s not wildly happy, but she understands.”

Peter nodded his relief. He had hated hiding it from her. “How much can I tell her?”

“Don’t tell her anything. She might pop along to see Jack. If she does, he knows more, so can give her a better explanation.”

Peter just nodded. “Okay Gramps. I’d better head off and make sure she’s okay. Are you and Gran going to be okay?”

“We’ll do fine love. Look at me. I’m feeling loads better already. I expect it was just a minor twinge or something. I’m sure I’ll be fine soon.” He grinned. “I’m eighty-two. I’m allowed a twinge or two.”

Peter laughed. “All right. But only the odd one or two. Now and again.”

Robbie chuckled. His grandson was being lighthearted about it and that was good, but underneath his banter there was still worry.

It was after nine by the time Peter got home. Lucy was doing the ironing while watching an old, very old, film on the player.

“Hello love, do you want some supper?”

“Nah. Thanks.”

“Okay love. Night night.”

“Night Mum.”

Lucy watched her son vanish into his room and smiled after him. Despite her complaints about her father getting Peter involved, she was actually secretly pleased and very proud of him.

When she went to see her father the following day, Lucy found him out of bed and looking much better. “How are you feeling Dad?” she asked him, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

“Much better love. My knee still aches, oddly, but that aside, I feel like I did before this came on.” Actually it was a little white lie, he felt a bit weak; and to him his movement seemed a bit slower, but everything else was fine. “Is Peter not here?”

Lucy shook her head. “He’s with Jack. He’ll be along in a couple of hours.”

Robbie just nodded. “Grab a cuppa and come and join us in the garden.” He waved at the window, where Lucy could see her mother pottering around the back garden, dead heading the summer flowers.

“Okay.”

“Just going to get some bits for lunch,” Joan said about half an hour later.

“Okay love,” Robbie responded absently.

“You okay to stay here until I get back?” Joan asked her daughter.

Lucy smiled and nodded.

“Don’t fret,” Robbie murmured. “I’ll be fine. I am fine.”

Joan just mock glared at him, then winked at her daughter, a soft smile on her face.

The following day Robbie was up and out of bed for eight hours, but couldn’t do much more than sit and talk. His mind was still active, and provided he didn’t physically exert himself, he seemed to be able to keep going. The following day it was obvious Robbie was getting physically weaker and, six days after he had collapsed, he could no longer get out of bed. His eyesight and hearing seemed to finally be failing and he slept a lot. When awake he was still fully alert, but he had totally lost his appetite beyond a small amount of water or weak fruit juice. Everyone understood now he was going to die, but only he and Jack truly accepted it. The following morning Lucy, Peter, Joan, Jack, their GP, and a couple of other close friends were all by the side of his bed when he finally died.

“I wish I could have seen the end of this damned war,” he whispered. “I’m sure it would have been just days away.” He smiled at them all. “Take care of yourselves. All of you.” Joan was sitting on the side of the bed. He took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Love you,” he whispered. With that, he just closed his eyes, gave a deep sigh, and stopped breathing. The GP took his pulse, listened to his heart and softly declared him dead.

“I love you too,” Joan whispered back, sobbing softly, gripping his hand tightly.

Lucy hugged her mother tightly, “You stay with him for a little while Mum. I’ll start everything going.” Joan just nodded, tears streaming silently down her face.

“You take care old friend,” whispered Jack. “I’ll miss you, you old sod you.”

A few evenings later, Jack, with Peter’s help, captured the two men that had been his and Robbie’s target ten days earlier. It had turned out to be ridiculously easy as both men were drunk and alone. “Got them for you, Granddad” whispered Peter that night, the first moment he had finally got to himself and could think about his grandfather.

Pauline Hogarth was still feeling aggrieved. She’d been at work for over three hours already and it was still not yet eight in the morning. Being rung at four in the morning to cover an urgent and unexpected job was annoying to say the least, but today should have been a day off. She was supposed to have had three days clear, but had only had one and now was back in work again. Her boss had all but begged her, pleaded with her. “Come on Pauline, you know how I trust you. Trust you almost more than some of the others.”

Pauline did know and had, reluctantly, agreed to the extra days work. At one and a half times the normal over-time rate.