Surviving The Evacuation (Book 8): Anglesey (16 page)

“I can’t work out which one of them wants to set it up underneath the tree, and which of them is trying to explain that’s not a great place to start a fire,” I said.

“They’re getting along,” she said. “That’s good.”

“It’s good for him,” I said. “He’s been morose these past few days. It’s the satellites, seeing images of places that have been destroyed.”

“He holds himself personally responsible? A lot of people on Svalbard felt that way about themselves,” she said. “It’ll pass. Give him time.”

It really was good to have Kim back. I didn’t realise just how much I’d missed her until I had her close again.

The debate in the back garden reached its denouement, Sholto dragged the barbecue away from the tree, and Annette headed back across the lawn to the house. She opened the door and stuck her head inside.

“We’re going to start the barbecue,” she said, “and wanted to know what there is to cook.”

“A good question,” I said. I stood and went to the cupboards, opening one and then the next. “We’ve got some rolls, freshly baked this morning.”

“They’re already cooked,” she said.

“There’s some lettuce.”

“No hot dogs?” she asked. “Didn’t you go shopping while we were away?”

“Shopping?” I asked.

“There’s a baker, so there have to be shops now,” she said. “Aren’t there? What have been people been doing? I mean, we were busy, working, so why hasn’t everyone else been doing the same?”

Kim laughed. It was a wonderful sound. “You’re right,” she said. “If you want to just go online and add some steaks and burgers to the shopping basket, we can have the supermarket deliver it in a couple of hours.”

“That’s not funny,” she said.

“It kinda is,” I said

“Is the lettuce fresh?” Kim asked.

“From the Duponts at Menai Bridge,” I said. “And they gave us some raspberries and blackberries.”

“You can’t barbecue those,” Annette said.

“There’s fish,” I said.

“It’s not really barbecue food,” Annette said.

“Remember what we talked about?” Kim said warningly.

Annette scowled, and took a deep breath. “Fine. We’ll have fish, but it won’t be the same.” Grumbling, she went back outside.

“She was looking forward to a barbecue,” Kim said. “I’ve no idea why. Who are the Duponts?”

I told her about Menai Bridge, and that segued into a discussion of greenhouses and gardens, and the state of our own home.

“They sound like a nice community,” Kim said. “And you sound as if you want to move there.”

“This house is great,” I said. “But we need to be surrounded by people. And you’re right, they are an actual community.”

“Are there any children around Annette’s age?”

“Ah. No, there’s no children at all,” I said.

“Hmm.”

Before I could ask her why that gave her pause, there was a knock at the door. It was George Tull, out of breath, and leaning on his bicycle for support.

“We… we… really need to get some cars,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?” Kim asked.

“Nothing. Not really. I… I just overdid it on the road coming up here. The mind is… is willing, but my bones increasingly aren’t.”

“You better come in and sit down,” I said.

“No, no, there’s no time,” he said. “I’m sorry to trouble you like this, but Mary would like a word.”

“With me?” Kim asked.

“With you and Annette,” George said. “Call it a debrief, if you like.”

“I’m not sure there’s much about Svalbard we could tell her that Miguel or Francois haven’t,” Kim said.

“Not about Svalbard,” George said. “It’s Nilda, the woman you found on that island.”

“Why?” Kim and I asked in unison.

“A situation has developed,” George said, “but I don’t want to say any more. Not yet. Miguel says you spent some time talking to her. You heard her story, and we’d like your opinion of it. It shouldn’t take long.”

“What’s going on?” Annette asked, coming out to join us.

“You and I are going back to town,” Kim said. “There’s no rest for the weary travellers, not yet.”

“Would you mind taking Daisy with you?” George asked. “I’ve got a job for the lads that’s not suitable for the young lass.”

“Like what?” Kim asked before I could.

“Like watching someone, that’s all,” George said. “If you’ll take the girls down to the school, I’ll give them their marching orders and come and join you in a bit.”

“Come on,” George said when they’d left. “We’ll walk and talk. You remember that kid, Rob? The one who hangs out around Markus and his lot?”

“From Caernarfon?” I asked.

“Skinny kid with a sword. About twenty, twenty-three years old?” Sholto asked. “Five-nine but with thick-soled boots to give him an extra couple of inches. Came from somewhere in northern England, right?”

“That’s him,” George said. “Nilda says the sword belonged to her son. She led a group who took refuge in a school in Penrith. Rob was part of that group. They were overrun, her son died. She didn’t see the death, but Rob did. He says it was zombies, and that there was nothing he could do about it. Thing is, he took the sword. She thinks he killed her son for it.”

“For a sword?” Sholto asked.

“He didn’t tell her he had it. Shortly after her son died, they fled from Penrith. In that fight, half the group died. Nilda blames Rob for their deaths. She herself would have died if she wasn’t immune.”

I thought back to our conversation after we’d discovered the body in the university. “We should have organised judges and police,” I said. Like so much, it had been forgotten amidst the mountain of other pressing tasks.

“I’m working on it,” George said, “but that won’t help us now. Personally, I think they’re both telling the truth. I think Rob saw her son die and took the sword for himself. He kept it hidden because he wanted to keep it for himself. Now, perhaps he stood back and let the kid die, but let’s be honest, no amount of forensics will prove it. Whoever else survived Penrith, none of them made it here, so it’s a case of his word against hers. The rule we have is that what happened out in the wasteland isn’t held against you here. I’d like you two to watch him. When Nilda saw Rob, she tried to rip him in two. One of my lads, Chester, pulled her off, and I’ve got him keeping an eye her, but if she slips away, this could all end very badly.”

“I can’t see how it could end well,” Sholto said.

“Maybe so,” George said. “Maybe not. Mary’s got a few ideas, but for now I’d like to make sure we don’t end the day worrying about murder. So watch him. Talk to him. See if he tells you anything that can settle this quickly.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“The inn,” George said.

“Afternoon, gents,” Markus said. “I just can’t keep you away.”

The pub was less active than on our previous visit. The stalls outside were vacant, though there were a few people loitering near them, presumably in expectation they would reopen. Inside, the two women sat either side of their books, but they weren’t reading. Paul sat at the bar, chewing nervously on a pencil. The bearded man had his eyes on the door, and his hand not far from his belt. There was a younger group, all men in their early twenties, sitting at a table in the other corner, but they weren’t drinking. They were watching.

“Expecting trouble?” I asked.

“Obviously, and it seems to have walked through my door,” Markus said.

“We’d like a word with Rob,” Sholto said. “Where is he?”

“In the back,” Markus said.

Sholto eased onto a stool. “Would you mind getting him?” The words were polite but there was no conciliation in his tone.

“Do you have a warrant?” Paul asked, his tone nothing but scorn.

Markus gritted his teeth. “Of course they don’t have a warrant. There are no warrants any more, because there are no courts to issue them, right? We help one another, and in that way, this little world of ours keeps on working. Rachel! Rob!” He called. There were a few sounds from the back room, and a moment later, Rob came out. Rachel followed. That he was being guarded told me Rob was more of a flight risk than in danger of starting a fight. His sword was missing, but so was his knife. The sheath at his belt flapped emptily against his leg.

“Take a seat, Rob,” I said, pointing at the stool next to my brother. Rob glanced at Markus, then at Rachel, then at the door. His shoulders slumped. He walked around the bar and sat down.

“Did he tell you what happened?” I asked.

“We saw it,” Paul said. “The woman came sprinting down the road and tried to throttle him with her bare hands.”

There was a muted comment from the group of young men, followed by a quartet of sniggers. Rob blushed. Markus slammed his palm down on the bar. The sniggering stopped.

“Did Rob tell you why?” I asked Markus.

“It was a mistake,” Rob said. “An accident.”

“Why was it a mistake? What kind of accident?” Sholto asked.

“Is it important?” Markus asked.

“I’d like to know,” Rachel said. Her expression was tight-lipped, almost angry.

“Then you better start talking,” Markus said with a smile completely absent of good humour.

“There’s not much to say,” Rob said. “We were at this school. It was her idea, Nilda’s. Me and my mates had secured this street. It was a good location. We had everything there, but she couldn’t hold the school without us. She needed us. She needed protection, so we went there to help, but she wasn’t a leader. She just didn’t know how. Didn’t have the knack. The school was overrun, and it was obvious it was going to happen. I went out with her son, and this soldier, Tuck. Except she was deaf. She was useless, but insisted on tagging along. I tried to tell her not to, but she couldn’t hear, could she? It’s her own fault. You want to blame someone, blame Tuck. We were looking for a way out of town. We got surrounded. They died. I managed to escape. That’s all there is to say.”

“What about the sword?” Sholto asked.

“What? Oh… oh, yeah. Well, I went back, didn’t I? I mean, I… I wanted to check they were dead. I mean, you know, check whether they were still alive. I thought they might be immune, you see? And they weren’t. They were both zombies. But the sword was there. I picked it up and fought my way out.”

“Why didn’t you give Nilda the sword?” I asked.

“I… uh… I thought it might upset her. I mean, she was a wreck when I told her that her son was dead. She wasn’t going to be any use in a fight. I figured I’d give it to her when things were… quieter.”

“And then?” I asked.

“Well, we got separated when we fled the town. I told them we needed to stick together, but they wouldn’t listen. They didn’t go fast enough. It’s their own fault. I thought she died.”

There were holes in his story, obvious gaps that would be easy to pick apart. Paul was almost twitching, though I couldn’t tell why. Markus looked thoughtful, but I was more interested in Rachel. Her expression was completely blank.

“What do you think?” I asked her.

“There can be only one punishment for murder,” Rachel said.

“But is this murder?” Markus asked. “It’s an unfortunate series of accidents, compounded by the fact that this woman, Nilda, clearly doesn’t like Rob. I can’t imagine why.”

Rob glared at Markus and began to stand up. Sholto put a heavy hand on his shoulder and forced him back down onto his stool.

“It’s an odd place, this,” he said, speaking to Markus. “It reminds me of somewhere, but I’m finding it hard to place.”

“You were in politics, weren’t you?” Markus asked.

“You read his journal?” Sholto asked.

“I glanced at it,” he said. “Personally, I prefer a good thriller. You didn’t serve, though?”

“You did?” I asked.

“I was a civilian contractor,” Markus said. “Drove a truck. I got the idea for this place from Baghdad.”

“Ah,” Sholto said. “That’s it.”

“You were there?” I asked, surprised.

“In Iraq? Sure,” my brother said. “Before the war, or between the wars to be more precise. There was a place there that did the best coffee I’ve ever drunk.”

“We can’t match it,” Markus said. “But we can offer something black, hot, and full of caffeine.”

“I’d be obliged,” Sholto said.

“I’ll get it,” Rob said, trying to stand up again, and again Sholto pushed him back onto his stool.

“You’ll sit there and wait,” he said.

“For what?” Rob asked.

“For a decision to be made,” Markus said. “And that decision isn’t going to be made in this room, right?” He was looking at me.

“I guess not,” I said.

They’d probably heard some of Rob’s story before. They would have got more out of him after Nilda’s assault earlier that morning. As such, they were a couple of hours ahead of me. It was Rachel’s comment about punishment that clicked a few other pieces into place. When I’d talked with George and Mary about the body we’d found in Bangor, we’d discussed evidence and policing, judges and juries. We had talked about crime, but not about punishment.