Designated (Book 2): Designated Quarantined (21 page)

July 7
th
2013
Buckingham Palace

Baker stood silent and immobile with Colinson, backs ramrod straight, eyes forwards as they waited. The gilt hallways and framed paintings stared down at them as they waited to be called forth. The two stewards at the doors barely made eye contact as they turned as one and reached for the handles. The doors swung open with an echoing clunk as the two men pulled the gargantuan slabs of gilded oak open and stepped aside as the two officers were called forth.

Their feet echoed off the marble floor, reverberating over the pair as they reached the second set of doors. The clack of heels and a bowed head left them standing as the door was opened and they were ushered into a small, brightly lit study; the warmth and homeliness left them both slightly wrong-footed as they watched the small stoop-shouldered figure at the desk. A corgi perked up at the entrance of the two men as they waited just beyond the doorway. Its ears pricked and eyes watchful as a small growl left its throat.
 

A tap of one flat-soled shoe quieted the discord from the animal as she turned to face her two guests; the envelope sat on her desk sealed with a monogrammed wax stamp. The furrowed wax drew Baker's eye as he stood motionless in the doorway.

'Enter, gentlemen; you're here at my behest and no one else's. Please, in these confines, I do not stand on formality; make yourselves comfortable. We have much to discuss.'
 

Baker stood, his back rigid and eyes forwards as he watched Colinson from the corner of his eye. David pulled a small Shaker-styled chair from besides the desk and began to sit, oblivious to Baker's immobility. Glancing up, he caught Derek's eye as he stared forwards, his eyes fixed on the small rosebud lost in midst of the swirling floral pattern that adorned the wall before him. A small chill ran through him as he realised just what he had done.

A smile teased at her lips as she watched Colinson freeze, his bent form mere inches from the plump cushion beneath him. Her eyes settled on Baker as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her mauve dress, the wash of perfectly styled hair framing her features as she gazed evenly at both men.
 

'Be seated, gentlemen.'
 

Derek sat, smoothly unbuttoning the bottom button of his jacket as he did so. The chair beneath him creaked slightly as he settled into the aged seat, its timeworn joints stretching even under his slim frame. He coughed slightly, clearing his throat as he took a second to arrange his thoughts.
 

'Ma'am, we need to discuss the current situation and what we are putting in place in terms of evacuation contingencies.'
 

Her eyes wavered for the briefest of moments as she stared at Derek and Colinson's slightly bashful form, the tinge of embarrassment still plain on his features.
 

'Well, gentlemen, what are we to do? This nation is in a state of crisis and we are spread too thin to do much of anything about it. Couple that with the fact we have people within our own ranks striving to kill one another for the sake of their sexual preference, well, I fail to see how Broadhead is able to accomplish what my great grandmother set out to do all those years ago when this vile affliction first reared its head.'
 

Derek's eyes widened as his commander and chief spoke. The look of amusement that danced in her eyes spoke volumes as Baker fought to wipe the look of utter astonishment from his features.
 

'Yes, I do know what you were told about Broadhead's origins, and for a brief period, that was its purpose: the elimination of dissidents and those who threatened the crown's rule, but it has and always will be the subjugation and elimination of the plague that is now ravaging the free world. My great grandmother only carried on the orders lain down by ancestors so far back that the house
Saxe-Coburg and Gotha,or Windsor as it is now known
,
was but a distant dream of people yet to be born.
 

'Castles and fortifications, for one thing, were not always the bastion of the wealthy and places to ride out the ravages of war. Although they did start out that way, they became havens for the healthy—rich and poor alike—during times of infestation, when the Infected, or whatever they were called at time, appeared. Lords, ladies, paupers, and peasants would flee to these great stone monoliths and pray in subjugated comfort for the passing of this vile affliction.
 

'I know, gentlemen, that I will not stand by and watch all that the people of this country and my own family have fought, died, and bled to build crumble to dust. While there is breath in my body, I will defend all this nation stands for, and I hope I can count on you to do the same.'

Both men stayed mute as the door opened and a porter entered bearing a tray of porcelain cups and saucers. With astute silence, he set them down on the desktop and poured a measure of milk into the cup before adding the steaming brown liquid. The swirling mist of steam boiled over the lip of the cup as he set cup and saucer on the small table at the Queen's right.
 

Baker held up a hand at the questioning glance from the porter as he silently motioned with the teapot. Colinson nodded as he turned his attention to the Queen.
 

'Ma'am, I can assure you that all here and at Broadhead will gladly lay down all to defend home and country, but if we're being completely candid, it will not be for something trivial.'
 

An eyebrow rose as she lifted the cup to her lips and sipped at the steaming brew within, the soft blue floral pattern complimenting everything around it. Baker smiled to himself as he listened to Colinson's words slowly drift into silence as he waited for her reply.
 

The soft clink of cup on saucer lapped at the edges of their minds as the wait extended forwards, dragging on for a few moments as she dabbed her lips with a small cotton napkin.
 

'I should certainly hope not, captain. It is rather hard having to handpick the command staff for the unit, although I must say you are doing extremely well after losing Captain Pottergate and Captain Grissom in such a short time period. I know five years is not what one would call
short
but in the scheme of things, it's fairly brief. But with what you have accomplished since you both took charge of the unit, well, I am glad to see my trust was well placed when I partnered you with each other.'
 

Baker tensed slightly as the memories tried to beat their way to the surface of his mind; driving them away, he coughed slightly into his fist and shifted his weight before once more tuning in to what was being said.
 

'The situation, as Parliament and the rest of government present it, is not one that really engenders itself to being conducive to actually being alive for any given amount of time; although, as I understand it, your head of research has been rather helpful in understanding the vectors of transmission and the rate of infection, but has not presented a way of counteracting the affects in any real form. Have I got that right?'
 

Baker nodded as he shifted his gaze about the room, the fine scent of perfume pinching the air as he sniffed softly. The tender fragrance teased his nostrils as he drew in a slow, even breath through his nose. A small smile glimmered for a moment as he let it settle in him.
 

He chuckled softly to himself as images danced through his mind, unbidden scenes that made him want to leap from the chair and whist away the two people he would give anything to have with him at the moment.
 

'Do you find something amusing, Lieutenant?'
 

Baker flushed red slightly as sat up slightly straighter.
 

'No, ma'am. Just scent memory rearing its ugly head at a rather inopportune time.'
 

Her eyebrow arched sharply as she continued to gaze at Derek. Lifting the cup from the table at her elbow once more, she sipped gently as she regimented her thoughts.
 

'Very well, gentlemen, shall we dispense with the obligatory dance and get down to brass tacks? Tell me, just how bad is the situation and can we find any way to survive moderately intact?'
 

Derek and Colinson cast a glance in each other's direction before in near unison replying, 'It's bad; and no, ma'am, there isn't.'
 

She nodded, rose to her feet, and smoothed her skirt as she watched both men snap to attention, their postures perfect as they waited for her next move. Turning with a poise born of years of practice, she waved her hand gently. Her voice, although weathered and tired, still possessed the power and authority of youth.

'Be seated, gentlemen; I know this usually entails pomp and circumstance, but given the situation and the gravitas of it all, we can dispense with it for now.'
 

She withdrew from a drawer in her desk three sealed envelopes, and turning back to Derek and David, held them out. Each was sealed with a red circle of wax, the thick disc emblazoned with the raised imprint of the Queen's royal seal. As their hands closed over them, she continued to speak.
 

'Within these envelopes you will find your new ranks and insignias, as well as a set to be given to a man of your choosing for the rank of Lieutenant, along with all documentation countersigned by myself and Lieutenant General Bradshaw. It seemed only fitting, given the rise in strength and manpower within Broadhead in the last eight months.
 

'Also, over the coming months, I will be transferring some of my duties to Harry. I realise that it may be a little galling to be answering to a younger officer, but with the pressing issues within Parliament and my need to converse between you and them, I feel it is best that he shoulders some of the responsibilities of office now.
 

'He will be arriving at the barracks tomorrow for an outlining of current operations and a small meet and greet with your and the unit heads. I trust you will act accordingly.'
 

Both men nodded as they watched Elizabeth rise to her feet, both men following suit smoothly.
 

'So, gentlemen, if that is all, I bid you good day.'
 

Baker and Colinson both nodded before bowing and turning to the door as a footman held it open, ushering them from her majesty's presence.

****

The sound of tearing paper and crumbling wax filled the air as both men tore open the envelops. Baker stared at the gold and red velvet crown in his palm, the shoulder title pins weighing heavy against his skin as he stared at them.
 

'I didn't see that coming,' he muttered to himself as he pocketed the pins and pulled out the rank slide. The soft piece of material grated against his calloused fingers as he ran his thumb over the embroidered crown in the centre.
 

Baker looked at Colinson, a grin playing over his features as he turned; his grinned slipped from his face as he took in Colinson's shock-addled face as he stared at the four pins that lay clustered in his palm. The two crowns that nestled against the shimmering gold stars glinted in the dewy sunlight.
 

'I... I have just been made a lieutenant colonel; I'm a freaking lieutenant colonel, Derek.'
 

Baker smiled as he curled his hand over the two Major's pins in his hand. He slowly slipped the envelope and rank slide into his trouser pocket. 'Congrats, mate; couldn't have gone to a more deserving man.'

17
July Twenty-second

China City Restaurant

Leicester Square, Central London

The steady flow of lager filled them all as, one after another, the bottles filled the tables around them. The scent of fried pork and beef filled their nostrils as another petite, beaming waitress set the still sizzling tray in front of them. Davies laughed as Kingsley shoved him towards the microphone, a look of utter concentration on his face as he blearily jabbed his finger at the laptop there and kicked out at Davies' backside.
 

'Go on; give us a show, Mr Tough Nut SAS Commando.'
 

Davies grinned as he stepped towards the laptop and cued up a song. His eyes glittered as he stared at the track he had selected, the glowing letters shinning in his eyes as he scrolled through the list to a group he knew all too well. Clicking on Poets of the Fall, he stepped away from the laptop and over to the microphone stand as "Carnival of Rust" shimmered into being.
 

The fluid strains of acoustic guitar and mixed strings flowed from the speakers. The room fell silent as Davies began to gently sing, his hands cupping the microphone as he let his voice slip from him in a gentle lilting cadence that left them speechless.
 

His eyes lit on Anna's stunned face as he let himself free fall into the music. His voice rose and fell in a rhythmic dance of song and soul as he lifted the microphone from the stand and stepped to the edge of the small stage and let loose all he had within.
 

'Did you know he could do that?'
 

Her eyes soaked into Derek's as Janet sat perched on his lap, a slim glass clutched delicately in her fingers as she leant against his chest.
 

'I had no clue. He just keeps chucking out one surprise after another; although, I have to say, he can really pull one out the bag at a moment's notice.'

His hand rested, curled over her hip as he watched Davies step down from the miniature stage and lean forwards, brushing his lips against Anna's. Glancing up, he caught eyes with Janet and Baker as they both sat staring in his direction. Derek grinned, raising the bottle in his hand as Janet lightly clapped, both laughing slightly as they watched the blush creep up his neck.
 

'So there is a soft side to the hard man, after all. Hell, from all the mystique you lot have kicked up, we were beginning to think they just squirted you out of packet and added water. Either that or you were all factory vended and issued along with uniforms in batches of eight.'
 

Davies grinned at Baker as he sat down once more, the playful jibe sliding off him like water from a duck; he shivered slightly as Anna's fingers curled with his. A small bolt of electricity slid through him as he felt her thumb trace small circles over the back of his wrist. Grinning again, he reached across the table for his drink, taking a deep pull from the bottle before replying.
 

'Well, I could say the same to you but, then again, you are Welsh so you are more at home in a flock of walking cardigans than anywhere else so...'
 

His eyes glittered with mirth as Baker laughed, almost dropping the bottle in his hand. Janet chuckled as she traced her fingers over the back of Derek's neck. Brushing her lips against his ear, she whispered quickly before getting up. Nodding, Baker looked her in the eyes as she stood.
 

'Let me know how she is, okay? If we need to bolt, we can do.'
 

Janet smiled as she nodded, plucking her mobile phone from her handbag as she slipped between the tables heading towards the door.

Janet listened to the thrumming ringing as she held the phone to her ear, the ambient heat of it warming her skin while she waited for an answer. After a few seconds of tense waiting, she heard the soft muffled clicking that slipped away as a soft, lilting voice followed quickly on its heels.
 

'Hello, Baker residence; Siobhan speaking.'
 

Janet smiled as she spoke, her voice slightly muffled by her smile and the six mojitos she had drunk in very quick succession, the alcohol making her head spin slightly as she leant against the wall.
 

'Hey, Sib. How's my girl doing?'
 

A soft chuckle echoed in her ear as she listened intently. The soft shuffling and giggling in the background made Janet smile as she waited.
 

'She is doing fine, Mrs Baker. A little squirmy; she was dozing off as you phoned, but she hasn't been the slightest bit of trouble. Here, say hello.'

The echo of crackling plastic and a soft pattering echoed in Janet's ear as she began to coo into her phone. A broad smile lit up her features as she listened to the burble of baby talk and soft patting of miniature hands on the phone's receiver.
 

'See? All safe and sound. Go on, enjoy your night; I will be here to watch over her until you get back, so have no worries about time or being late. I have it all under control.'
 

Janet couldn't keep the grin off her face as she said thank you and hit the end call button after Siobhan had hung up. Turning on her heel, she strode back into the restaurant.
 

A loud call echoed over her as she stepped into the foyer, a frown furrowing her brow as she turned and glanced behind her. The simple-minded mound of flesh ambled towards her, a grin plastered over its adroit face like badly finished wallpaper. Weeping acne clustered over his face, the yellow-headed, puss-filled lumps hanging off his skin like a collection of melted Christmas chocolates.
 

'Can I help you?'
 

His grin widened to a sickening layer of syrup that clung to a face so stomach churning that Janet felt the vacuous mix of bile and mucus flow up her gullet, scalding her throat and tongue with a muted paste of acid and half-chewed food.
 

Looking up, Baker caught sight of the angel he called a wife and the six-foot tower of slime that had her backed against the doors. He watched with a widening gaze of consternation as he cocked his head to one side, a questioning look dancing through his eyes as he watched her push against the glass, the panic in her body seeping through the air and into Baker's already rage-infused heart.
 

Davies flicked his eyes from Baker to the scene at the door, the trembling muscles in Baker's jaw making his eyebrows rise as he let his eyes drift back to the doorway and the clutch of men slowly encircling Janet's slim form as she pulled tighter and tighter to the glass.
 

'Okay, fuck that noise.'
 

Baker pushed himself to his feet and started for the door, his fists clenched tightly into bunched balls of seething anger.
 

Pushing himself upright, Davies hurried after Derek, his feet skimming over the hardwood floor as he scrambled to catch up.
 

Reaching the door, Baker yanked it open, catching Janet as she stumbled backwards into him. Spinning her into his arms, Derek moved in front of his wife. The grinning slob's face twisted into a picture of drunken annoyance as he watched his quarry disappear in a swirl of cloth and trembling muscle.
 

'Oi, back off, yo; that bitch is mine.'
 

He gesticulated wildly as Davies arrived beside Derek. The motley collection of drunken morons snickered and giggled like children as the two men moved side by side through the doorway.
 

'Really?'
 

The snickering group of drunken children chorused a slurred and spittle-soaked affirmation of confirmation, their heads bobbing like spastic pigeons as they stared with half-focused eyes.
 

'Everything okay at home? Maria behaving?'
 

Janet didn't bother replying as she backed into the restaurant, her phone still clutched tightly in her hands.
 

'Right, I am going to give you one chance and one chance only to leave now. That "bitch" you lay claim to is my wife and no man's property; so like I say, you have one chance, right now to leave and nothing will come of this.'
 

The spot-laden, head idiot marched to within an inch of Derek, their faces, so close he could feel the hot mist of sickly sweet breath as it landed across his skin. Baker fought the need to heave under the stench that assailed him, its thick, cloying aroma filling his mouth and nose with a layer of heavy moist air that threatened to choke the very air from his lungs as he stared at the thing in front of him.
 

'S'at 'ight? Well, she seemed all too 'appy to be 'ere talking to us.'
 

Baker railed against himself as he somehow kept his face completely neutral, the sight of the walking pestilence before him making his stomach dance. 'That is a far cry from what I saw and as I said, she is my wife and this is your chance to walk away without any repercussions or recompense, so please. Leave.'
 

His face contorted into a dribbling mask of indignant rage that mingled with alcohol-induced impudence as he puffed himself out like a cold-chapped robin.
 

'And what if me and my boys decided we didn't want to? What if we decided we want to come in and stay for a while, maybe help ourselves to that nice food there?'
 

Baker sighed as he looked down at his hands; they hung, relaxed and ready at his sides. Davies shifted his feet slightly, his hands cupped and loose just at the level of hips.
 

'You really going to force this? You can still walk away. In fact, I am begging you to walk away; just walk away and nothing more will come of this.'
 

The figure before him sneered his lips, curling into a semblance of what his pickled mind told him was scornful. The lopsided look did nothing to assuage the sheer lack of physical appeal that his features held.
 

Glancing behind him, Davies spied Janet wildly pointing towards the doors as Kingsley looked up at him and Derek, a look of non-concern plastered over his face as he spied the slowly closing circlet of drunken idiots.
 

Sighing, Baker glanced once more at his hands as they snapped closed, tightening into a fist so tight his skin groaned like canvas being stretched over an awning.
 

'Okay, then.'
 

Baker twisted, driving his fist deep into the man's kidney as his knee crashed into his solar plexus. The man's eyes widened as he dropped his breath, disappearing in a violent explosion of air and mucus.
 

Davies spun with a grunting growl as he drove his leg forwards, sending another drunken lout the floor in a flailing tangle of arms and legs. His body folded around Davies' driving foot as it collided with his chest. They moved in a shimmering dance of wet slapping impacts as flesh met flesh with each violent thrust. With each crushing blow, another fell until all that remained of the once menacing clutch of alcohol-fuelled erections was a whimpering mass of groaning flesh and bloodied teeth.
 

Crouching, Baker lifted the whimpering collection of flesh that had been the cause of it all by the shoulder and said in a soft almost gentle voice.
 

'Now is that going to be the last time you hit on another man's wife and are you going to, from now on, leave when you are asked?'
 

Baker watched as he nodded; then with a gentle pat on the man's shoulder, he rose to his feet.
 

'Good.'
 

Stepping over him, Baker headed towards the door as Davies pulled his slightly rumpled shirt back into place and followed suit, a soft smile gracing his lips.
 

'Derek, does that count as PT for tomorrow?'
 

Baker snorted as he pushed the door open and made his way back to his table. 'Not if Colinson has anything to say about it.'
 

'Oi Dave, John wants to know if that little spat counts as PT for tomorrow.'
 

David looked up as Akemi cast a glance over her shoulder in their direction, a puzzled scowl weaving her brow together. Leaning in, she whispered in his ear.
 

'It means physical training,' he replied in a quick burst of Japanese.
 

He then turned, leaning across the back of his chair to look at Davies' slow approach. 'Only if you broke a sweat; did you?'
 

Tugging at his shirt, John searched for any sign of perspiration. Finding none, he sighed and shook his head.
 

'Then no. I want you on the field in PT kit at zero five thirty.'

Nodding, Davies picked up his pint and set it to his lips, taking a long, lingering pull from the amber-coloured liquid. 'Fine, I'll be there. We going through full drills or just a shakedown session?'
 

Colinson smiled as he pulled Akemi tighter to him, settling himself into the chair further before replying.