Chapter 5

... they blew up his house, too
Down on the boardwalk they're gettin' ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do.
Atlantic City, Bruce Springsteen

Le Havre, November 22^nd

"Up against the car, arms behind your head." Gavin instructed, tersely, waving the ladies back a step. "Christophe, alles a ton mére." The boy did, scurrying backwards, eyes fixed not on the old man but on the gun.

"I assure you, Gavin, I'm unarmed." Camael said, with a slight smile in his voice.

"Good, then you'll appreciate the advantage we have. Up against the car." With a shrug the old man turned, placing his arms on the car, slipping his jacket off his shoulders to hang at his elbows as he did.

"See, no shoulder holster. Nothing in the waistband. Nothing so dramatic as an ankle holster... not even a knife."

"Then you've no cause to move around, have you." Gavin told him. "Caerys, come here." She nodded, hesitantly, and moved quickly to stand by him. "Take this. If he moves, shoot him." He passed her a second gun, a pistol, which she rather clumsily grasped and pointed. Once he was satisfied she was in place, Gavin put his own gun up, and approached the old man from a slightly oblique angle, patting him down quickly and competently, even going so far as to flex his belt and tap his shoes.

"Alright, turn around." He offered, stepping back, and training his own gun on the man again, keeping a distance from Caerys — the old man couldn't get both of them easily. Camael turned unhurriedly, without a care in the world, as though it were his choice to stand and be frisked.

"Satisfied?" he queried, amused, and nodded companionably to Caerys and Sophie. Gavin merely waited. "You are being followed."

"Obviously." Gavin offered, which drew a broader smile.

"By others than me. They will track you down, they have access to technology you aren't aware of." There was an emphasis to the word 'technology' that meant nothing to Gavin, but Camael was looking at Caerys as he said, and she swallowed. "I can help with that."

"How?" Caerys asked, and Gavin frowned at her, gently.

"'Why?' would be a better question." He observed. "What's your stake in all this?"

"I asked you to intercede with these people, remember. I led you to them when you were obstinate — I told you there were people who could help. Now you've found them."

"And who are you in all this? Who are they, for that matter?"

"Those are answers you wouldn't believe if I told you." He held up a cautionary hand and reached into a pocket gently, drawing forth a stout neck-chain with an amulet at the end. "Nevertheless, this will keep them from your trail."

"What is it?" Gavin asked. "Radio-mask? Jammer?"

"Something like that." The old man gave a wry chuckle. "You should take it, they're closing in." He crabbed sideways, slowly, away from where he rested it on the bonnet. Gavin moved back and around to cover him as he did, and Caerys reached for it, gasping slightly as she picked it up.

"It's for him." The old man explained, and that had some sort of significance for Caerys though Gavin couldn't imagine what.

"Here." She offered, passing it across.

"In a minute." He shook his head gently, tilting his head slightly at the squeal of tires nearby.

"They're here, Gavin." Camael offered, lowering his hands slowly. "I'll be leaving, you should too." Gavin paused, considering his options until the deep bass roar of a large engine entered the car-park, a sweeping black saloon slewing wildly through the barrier towards them.

"GO!" he told the old man, sharply, and grabbed his kit from the back of the car. "Into that one." He pointed to a nearby Audi and Sophie and Caerys dashed for it.

"Here!" Caerys tossed the amulet to him, and he made to slip it into his pocket. "Put it on."

"Later." He told her. "When I know what it is. Now move."

"It's a chance, damn it. Trust me this time." She stood stock still, staring at him. Deciding he had little to lose, he slipped it over his head with a frown, as much to keep her quiet as anything.

"There. Happy? Do I need to open my shirt to the navel and wear a chest-wig, too? Now would please move before someone fucking shoots you!" Punctuating his words a shot rang across the car-park, and Caerys ducked her head and ran to the car as Gavin snatched his gun back off her and turned towards the assault.

Slipping between the nearby cars he made as though to run to his left, then ducked and cut alone the row, coming out directly beside the car as it hurtled by. Stepping out into open briefly, three shots rang out, and the man on the back toppled off as the car slewed sideways and into a row of stationary vehicles.

Galvanised by Christophe's presence, Sophie had taken the initiative and packed the car up neatly, slipping into place behind the wheel and looking at the improvised 'key' jammed into the ignition. Turning it easily, the car rumbled to life, and she pulled out alongside Gavin who slipped into the passenger seat and they were off.

Le Havre Hospital, November 22^nd

"You're sure no-one will be here?" Gavin asked, as they made their way up the stairwell, quietly.

"Sure? No." Sophie eyed him, warily as they climbed. He was carrying Christophe, sleeping, against his shoulder, and she kept twitching to take him back.

She'd been eyeing him warily since they got in the car, keeping the look on him when they swapped places and he spent the rest of the afternoon driving slowly around the town checking to see if they were still being followed.

It wasn't that she was afraid of him, exactly, but that she thought logically that she should be. He'd gotten back into the car, and underneath the stern, serious satisfaction with a job well done there'd been a frisson of something else — enjoyment? It was almost as though, deep down, he revelled in it.

That had set her on edge, and since then she'd been practically silent, until he'd asked if she had anywhere they could go that wasn't her home — that'd be watched. She'd suggested work, and they'd circled it repeatedly until he'd decided there wasn't anyone watching.

"Here it is." She pushed open a door into an empty corridor in the office section of the hospital and led them quietly along the cheap carpeting to a door marked with her name. Before she could open the door he stepped in front of her, gently passing Christophe back, and eyed the door cautiously.

Slipping a knife out, he delicately slid the blade around the seal, pausing once or twice around the lock, and then stopping in the middle of the floor.

"Wait here." He told them, quietly, and slid off to the next office, disarming the lock quickly and slipping inside.

"What's he doing?" Sophie asked, but Caerys could only shrug. A few moments later, her office door opened, and he stood there with a small electronic device in his hands.

"A bomb?" Sophie gasped, spinning to shield her son.

"No," he told her, in a quiet voice, "not a bomb, just a signalling device. It was set to trigger when the door opened."

"You turned it off?" Caerys asked, and he nodded, stepping aside to let them in.

"Why are we here?" Sophie asked, as she laid Christophe down on the long couch along one wall. "Shouldn't we be heading for your boat by now?"

"No point." He explained, settling down on the window-sill, staring out across the town towards the sea. "They'll be watching the port here, and have an eye out for unscheduled launches in the next few days from the local harbours and marinas. I'll e-mail a departure plan to the Octeville-sur-mer harbour master this evening for tomorrow."

"So we'll all be sleeping here?" she queried. He nodded, frowning.

"Is that a problem."

"No, no." she assured him, dropping heavily into the large office chair behind the desk. Caerys, searching quietly round the room, found a small fridge unit and opened it up to drag out a carton of milk and a small tub of ice-cream.

"That sounds convincing." She muttered, scooping the first mouthful in. Gavin didn't reply, just stared levelly at Sophie.

"There's not a problem with staying here, as such." He pointed out. "There's a problem with us. Me."

Sophie got up, walked across the office away from, wrapping her arms around herself as she did. Gavin and Caerys watched her go, watched her build herself up to speak.

"You're a barbarian..." Sophie whispered, pressing herself against the wall.

"I did what had to be done."

"You didn't just do it... you enjoyed it."

"Yes." He spun round, hissing his agreement into her face. "Yes I enjoyed. I just made the world a better place. What did you do? You cowered in the corner, whimpering and hoping someone would come and save you. I did. 'Thank you' will suffice."

"And this makes the world a better place? Killing people."

"Weaning out the shallow end of the gene pool? Yeah, generally speaking. Not losing someone dedicated to healing and stopping pain, yeah that too."

"How can you just... kill them. It's... you're ill, in the head, you must be."

"Why? You'd rather they killed you, but you squeezed your eyes shut and prayed for someone to rescue you. You don't know the first thing about me, but you feel you can judge me?"

"You don't know anything about me, but you criticise me for what I did."

"I know your type."

"Type? There aren't 'types' there are just people. Everyone's different."

"Of course they are. You're a doctor because you were bullied into it, and you convince yourself that it's all about making people better and not balancing a budget or meeting target figures set by ward managers. You'd be vegetarian because you don't like how they treat animals except that you don't spend enough time at home to cook that much. You believe the people I killed could have been rehabilitated into useful members of society and that, even though they've been bad people, now they're dead they'll be judged by God and he'll forgive them because he loves all of us.

And you're wrong.

They're scum. They drag the world down to their level, and unless someone stands up to be counted they get away with it, and they teach other people that if they take the risk they'll get away with it too. Rehabilitiation just leaves a void for someone else to step into — the only way to stop them is to make them too afraid to do it. To take that 'risk' of something bad happening if they get caught and turn it into a certainty because the one sure thing about people is that they're selfish."

"Everyone's selfish?" Caerys cut in, scooping out the top of the tub of ice-cream sat on her lap. "Everyone?" Gavin turned away from Sophie, relaxing visibly as he did.

"People do what makes them happy. They follow rules and laws either because they're afraid of being punished or because they don't like the feelings of guilt that accompany their actions. People do what makes them feel good — if you want to improve society, you make the things that are bad for society bad for people... causing them death and pain is the extreme, but these people are extremely bad for society; especially, right now, the parts of it sat in this room."

"You can't just rationalise this away." Sophie snapped back, snatching the ice-cream out of Caerys' hands. "You killed people, real people... people with... with mother's, childr..." She cut off abruptly as Gavin rounded on her.

"People with mothers? People with children? Do you really think that matters... Hitler had parents, Stalin too. Serial killers account for dozens of kids, including their own sometimes... yeah, I killed people, but you don't really understand what people are, do you.

People look out for themselves, they do what's best for them, what makes them feel good. Muggers, rapists, thieves, car-jackers, embezzlers, tax-fraudsters, sure they're easy to spot.

Religious fanatics who kill 'because it's God's word' can shuffle off the blame to somewhere else — it's not them, so they feel good. That's easy for you to stomach because you say they're bad people. Except they aren't, they're just people.

How about something a little closer to home: Doctor's who oppose euthanasia because it's morally easy to strive to save and sometimes fail, but to be the one that puts their finger on the button... that's different... It's not so easy when you have to choose between dying and suffering, is it? So you don't choose, because it isn't really important whether they live or die, just so long as you can live with yourself in the morning.

I wake up, I look in the mirror, and I'm just fine. I know what I am, I know who I am, and I'll put it up against anyone in a minute because I do what makes me feel good, just like every other selfish, ignorant bastard on the planet, and I know that, and I accept that. You whine and bitch and moan and shout and try to judge me not because I'm different to you, but because deep down we're the same, and you know it, but you don't want to accept it."

Octeville-sur-Mer, November 23^rd

The shelter of the harbour a few miles down the coast had seemed insignificant, but faced with the rolling waves coming in off the English Channel, Caerys found herself smiling reminded of home. It wasn't the Pacific rollers coming in on the rocky shores of Portland, but it was the sea. She'd not been able to get to the coast very often, but it had always been happy memories — a few of the times she'd run away she'd made it that far, and once, very young, her mother had come with her to stand on a rocky outcrop somewhere, staring out over the waters.

That was where she'd had her first vision, where she'd first seen the metal tower that represented freedom. Things had never quite been the same since then, but that moment had seared itself into her head. And she was back here, seeking freedom again. Paris had come and gone, and freedom had proven to be less than she'd hoped, but at least she had some sort of control over her own destiny now.

"Madame?" Christophe appeared on the deck of the vessel with a broad grin, the same grin that had been plastered all over his face since his mother had told him they were going on boat. It wasn't what Caerys had been expecting — she still wasn't sure what she had been expecting, really, but the elegantly simple sailing yacht hadn't been it.

"I'll be there in a minute, Christophe." She assured him, with a smile, reaching up to push her hair back out of her face with a grin for his exuberance.

"I'm just waiting for Gavin." He came up the deck on his sturdy little feet, coping with the swell as though he'd been sailing for years, and perched himself over the back rail, feet hanging above the water. They waited like that, listening to Sophie mutter to herself down below, for about fifteen minutes until Gavin appeared at the end of the jetty, one large pack slung over his shoulder and another hanging from his hand as he strode confidently along the woodwork.

"You took your time." Caerys observed, with a smile.

"Well, I took the time to stock up a little." He observed, pitching one of the packs onto the deck, and then hoisting the other down off his shoulder. "Food, here, so we can take our time with the journey if we need to. There're some old clothes in the other, I figured you and Sophie could probably do with a change. I have some here on the boat already... I'm afraid I don't have anything for Christophe, though."

"We'll manage." Caerys smiled, almost as eager to be off as Christophe was. "Why might we be at sea for a while?"

"Well, I lodged a travel plan to head for Chichester." He explained as he sprang up onto the deck behind the second pack. "I also tapped the phone-line out of the harbour-master's office, here, so if he phones to alert someone that we've left, I can change destination."

"Why not just head somewhere different anyway?"

"Deviating from your expected course raises suspicions — best to try and appear normal for as long as possible."

"Alright." She reached out a hand and laid it on his arm as he went to hoist the bag down into area below deck. "She's... she's still upset."

"She'll be upset for a while, I should think." He observed. "I can't do much about that, and we don't have time to sit and hold her hand while she deals with it."

"Not everyone can shrug this shit off like you do, you know. We have... doubts, fears, worries."

"You think I don't?" He laid the pack down, moderating his tone a little. "I have doubts, fears, all the rest. I just don't let them rule my decisions. I take them into account, but they don't control me, it's as simple as that. Now, I have to pack this stuff."

"I'll get it, I don't think she wants to see you."

"And? Do you know where the stowages are?"

"Um... no." she admitted.

"Then I'll go stow these, and we'll see if Dr Barthez can keep herself under wraps."

"Like you did?" Caerys' smile faltered a little. "You didn't hold back much, there."

"Hold back? Why would I? I had a point, she didn't. It's my boat, I'm providing her the safety she needs, and she should just be grateful and accept that."

"You don't think she's entitled to feel a little unsettled?"

"Unsettled, maybe. Ungrateful, no."

"I don't think she's ungrateful, I think she's scared."

"And you aren't?" She stammered a little, and he continued. "Exactly. You've got your worries, you're dealing with new things, but you aren't reacting like that."

"Death isn't the distant horror for me that it is for her."

"She's a Doctor, she must see death on a pretty much daily basis."

"I don't." They both turned to where she stood at the top of the narrow companionway from below. "I took up Neurology because you don't encounter death as often as other places. I wanted to be in Obstetrics, but I couldn't imagine watching a child pass away... I'm sorry if you think I've been ungrateful, I'm not. I appreciate what you've done, I just don't even begin to understand how someone can live like you do."

"Live like what?"

"Where do you live?"

"Where I need to."

"You have no home, you don't have any close friends, I'm guessing, you don't talk to anyone. You live in this isolated little world where you are the only person balancing your view of things. That's... that's dangerous, psychologically. You've got no humanity imposing itself on you, that's how you can just brush these moral issues aside." He nodded, slowly, as she spoke, letting her play her words out.

"I can see how you'd think that, but it's not that complicated really. They shot at me — and you — and I shot back. I did nothing to provoke their assault, and I don't believe either of you did. You're both witnesses to whatever they have going on, and they want you dead for it. There is no morality in there, Doctor, just cause and effect."

"Why do you say 'Doctor' like that..."

"Like what?"

"Cold. Hard. Like it was an insult."

"It... you're supposed to be a scientist, I'm trying to remind you of that. Facts, evidence, deduction... We don't have the room to be emotional right now." She paused for a few moments digesting that, and then turned round and went back down below.

"Keep an eye on Christophe," he told Caerys, "I'll go pack this away and we'll be off."

'Venture Upon The Sea', English Channel, November 24^th

The yacht ran gently up the rolling swell of the Channel, the slightly oily water running in a soft white crest down the sides below Christophe's feet at the rail as Gavin stood at the wheel, keeping her turned across the wind. Despite the pressure, the tension, and the still barely suppressed hostility from Sophie, Gavin finally felt relaxed with the deck rolling beneath him. By now, he knew, he was supposed to have started working on his next target, and that he was missing out on training that would serve him well, but it was always a joy when he managed to get out on 'Venture'.

"Ou somme nous allerons?" Christophe slid along the deck to sit nearby, staring at the water passing by still, as content as Gavin to enjoy the tranquillity of the journey.

"En Chichester." Gavin explained, quietly. "Et Londres"

"Londres!" Christophe looked up, with a broad beaming smile.

"Christophe, in English please." Sophie muttered, quietly, amused by his excitement, as she emerged from the cabin. "How much longer will be out? Caerys is... unwell."

"Is she alright?"

"It's just mal-de-mer... uh... seasickness."

"No, I meant... longer term."

"I don't understand... longer term... I don't think it's a disease."

"I mean... mentally. She's got some strange ideas going on inside her head, she hasn't shared many of them yet, but... Is it something she'll work out of her system now that she's out of their influence?" Sophie stared at him a moment, frowning slightly.

"Has freedom from influence given you a better perspective, Mr Connolly?" She crossed her arms, cocking a hip and adopting a laid back but challenging stance. "Has reality struck at you since you've been on your own?"

"Touché!" his smile broadened a little as he acknowledged her point, but she carried on regardless.

"Belief in something more than just what you can see and feel and hear and kill, Gavin, isn't generally considered a mental illness."

"God, religion, maybe." He fished inside his loose shirt for a moment. "Magic amulets?"

"Did it work? Are we still being followed?"

"We got free because of experience — changing transport, laying low and moving out in the wake of the search."

"If you say this, why are you asking? You already believe she is wrong in the head... you can be free of us when we land, no doubt."

"If she needs help, I'd rather see that she gets it first."

"Why? You don't care about people, you just have your job."

"I don't get to deal with people, perhaps, but I do what I do because I care, because everyone deserves to have a chance to make something of themselves."

"Like you have?"

"Most of my chances were taken away long ago."

"Most?"

"No-one knows the future."

"You don't have chances now?"

"Not really."

"You could give it up, do something else. Sculpt, sing, dance, sail this boat around the world."

"And would that make anything better?"

"Does it have to?"

"If I don't, who will?"

"Maybe no-one. Maybe they have to have that chance, too."

"Maybe." He shrugged, as the coastline came into sight ahead. "Land."

"You don't sound convinced."

"It's definitely land." He deadpanned, but she just stared at him for a moment. "I know what you're saying — people need to be able to make their own mistakes. The people I go after aren't making mistakes, they're making the same cold, calculating decisions I am, except they don't mind who they aim at. I do. I can't offer you anything more than that."

She waited for a moment, but he didn't add anything further, and she turned back into the covered area below the deck, leaving him to wonder why he felt he should be able to justify what he did a little better.

'Venture Upon The Sea', English Coast, November 24^th

Caerys rolled over, her stomach threatening to vent her freedom all over the narrow, curved bunk in the bow.

"Caerys..." Sophie called quietly, swishing the curtain aside and back as she entered the little 'cabin' Gavin had told them they could use. "We've sighted land... I don't think it'll be long now."

"Thank god." She muttered, sitting up briefly, then thinking better of it as she lay back down. "Can't he make it go quicker?"

"I don't think so. I'm not sure that wouldn't make it rougher."

"Slow him down..." she whispered, and Sophie chuckled gently.

"Poor girl." She reached out, flicking Caerys' hair back from her face and pressing the cold flannel to her forehead again. "I wish I had something for you, but I don't. Except the news that it's nearly over."

"Ohhhh." Caerys sat up sharply, and lurched across the cabin towards the little cramped toilet, dry-heaving a long-emptied stomach.

"Talk to me... it might help. The problem is parts of your brain sending out different ideas about what's happening to you. Gavin thought you might feel better on deck."

"I tried that..." she shook her head, gasping short sharp breaths as her stomach gave her a brief relief. "It didn't work."

"He did start to say something else, but then chose not to. I don't know what it was."

"What were you talking about just then? Seemed to go on a while." Caerys leant back against the wall, content to talk about just about anything if it would make the queasy feeling go away.

"Just... him. Us. This situation. How he could use his own advise and seek some therapy."

"He thinks you need therapy now? Jerk."

"Uh... no. Not me."

"Oh... he thinks I need therapy? Fucking misanthrope."

"Misanthrope? I don't know that... Negative man... isn't human?"

"Misanthrope, it means... someone that doesn't like people. He's a hermit."

"Well, yes, this is what I tried to tell him. He needs other people's input or he becomes detached — too detached."

"So why does he think I need help?"

"Because of the medal he wears — he thinks you think it's magic."

"That's my first guess. It might be technology, but I don't think that's what the old man meant."

"You think it is magic? There are people that would question that view as well." Sophie pointed out.

"Maybe, but not people who'd seen what you've seen, right?" Unbidden, the image of the tank back in the military base came to Sophie's mind, and she hesitantly, reluctantly nodded. Whatever it had been — and she was reasonably sure it had ever been human — it wasn't like anything she could explain with conventional science.

"Any sufficiently advanced technology can appear as magic." She pointed out, quietly.

"Yeah," Caerys admitted, "but so can magic."

"We're here." Gavin called gently, and they rose to their feet as the boat tilted away from a turn, the motion of the waves changing suddenly against the hull. The pair of them — Sophie slightly more gracefully — made their way through the small dining area and up the narrow stairs to emerge beside Gavin and turn to look at the small harbour.

"Where are we going?" Caerys asked, looking around, seeing a number of small marinas dotted around.

"Over there, to the east, that's the inlet that leads to Chichester itself. We'll head west to a little marina just outside of Havant. It's quieter, and it's almost certainly closed this time of year — the marina owner spends most of the winter hoisting bouts out the water and scrubbing the hulls for the summer sailors. If I can convince him I've moved it down the coast for that, he'll forget us in minutes and we can be on our way."

"Then what?" Sophie asked as he turned the boat again, rounding a prominent orange buoy in the middle of the channel.

"Then I'll buy a car, and we can drive up to London where we can rest, think, decide what we're going to do next. Plans made in haste will go wrong, we need to pool resources and find out what's going on." They were all quiet for a while, Gavin only breaking the silence to warn Christophe to keep his lifejacket on a while longer, and Sophie watched Caerys get a little greyer.

"What was that other seasickness cure you were thinking of?" she asked, looking for anything to talk about.

"It doesn't matter." Gavin told her, after stealing a glance at Caerys.

"Thanks!" the red-head snapped back. "Whatever it is, it has to be better than this."

"It doesn't matter, I don't have any jam on board."

"Jam?" Caerys frowned. "Like, that's what you guys call jelly, right?" He nodded. "That cures seasickness?"

"No." he admitted. "But the man that taught me to sail swore by it — he said you can't stop seasickness, but you can make it taste better on the way back up." Caerys blanched and headed for the rail.

Havant Marina, November 24^th

The boat was tied up, the mooring fees paid and Gavin was finishing his negotiations for the boat to be cleaned by the time Caerys felt comfortable again, laid out beneath the grey sky in the breeze coming in from the harbour. Christophe, tiring fast after the excitement of the morning, was slumped listlessly beside her, and Sophie held herself gently nearby, chilled by the breeze through the thin blouse she wore.

"Did you say you were going to buy a car?" Caerys sat up a little, staring over at Gavin with a deep frown.

"Yes." He admitted, as he came back. "There'll be a car car-sales places in the town, it shouldn't be that hard."

"You have that sort of cash on you?"

"I'll pay with a card." He pointed to his pack on the floor at the end of the bench, reminding Sophie of the sword tucked away in the guitar-case he'd unfolded on the top.