Toxic Treacle (15 page)

Daz contemplated Monkey's offer. ‘This isn't my call. I'll have to speak to people.' He stood up and indicated a mattress by the wall. ‘Get some sleep, both of you. I'll be back later.'

And, with that, Daz made his way back down the metal ladder into the storm drain, leaving Monkey and Angel in the underground cavern. Angel dropped her head into her hands and began to weep.

‘It was all our fault,' she said.

Monkey wrapped his arms round her and pulled her to him. ‘Ssshh! We're gonna sort this. Trust me.'

He lowered his lips and kissed her gently on the top of her head. He wished he was as confident as he sounded.

Arresting Developments

It was dusk when Daz led Monkey and Angel along the old drainage system that ran under the town. Monkey was once more dressed in nurturers' clothing and Angel and Mel had spent the afternoon waxing the fine growth of beard that had begun to sprout along his top lip and under his chin. The community had an array of wigs and clothing to suit every disguise and Monkey had been kitted out so that, in the half-light of evening, he made a passable female.

To his relief, the ancient tunnels were dry and only the scurrying of rats remained as a reminder that they had once carried human waste to the treatment works. Since the Oil Wars, a more modern system had been constructed, directing the sewage across town to the Methane Processing Plant in the west; part of The Assembly's sustainable electricity-generation policy. But the crumbling subterranean network still existed and every street had a number of drains leading down into it. Although most had been sealed off, a couple had been reopened by the underground community. Their position in the middle of town deemed them too dangerous to use during daylight but the rebels often used them at night rather than risk walking through hood territories.

Daz came to a halt. ‘This one'll bring you up in the service duct behind the leisure centre. You're about two minutes from The Plaza,' he said. ‘You've got one hour. Be careful.'

Monkey nodded. ‘Cheers, Daz. Appreciate this.'

Daz's face showed no emotion. ‘The only reason you've been greened is ‘cause of Eric Randall's rep. If he'll come on our side, it'll be a real coup.' He straightened Monkey's wig. ‘Don't blow it!'

Monkey changed out of his now filthy trainers and into the court shoes that completed his disguise. He kissed Angel before stealthily climbing the metal ladder that led from the sewer, up a brick shaft, to street level. Lifting the heavy metal disk slightly, he peered into the dimly lit service area, checking for cameras, hoods, Security - anything that might jeopardise his mission. When he was sure it was clear, he pushed the lid away and stepped out into the alley.

‘Shiltz!' he muttered, as he caught his leg on the edge of the drain-hole.

‘What is it?' Angel hissed.

‘Snagged my hose,' Monkey said.

‘For...!' Daz began. ‘Just get outta here.'

Monkey immediately did as he'd been told. Once out in the open, he gulped down a deep breath, relieved to be out of the fetid air below ground. He'd only been down there a few hours. There was no way he could stay down there for weeks - or even months - like some of the community.

He headed straight for The Plaza and Leadlow Chambers. He was using Angel's cleaner's ID - Roxanne Spall, and an appointment had been made for him to see Eric Randall at 18:00. He was on his own for the first time since the night of Fuse's murder and he felt alone and nervous. Without Angel by his side, he found it hard to muster the courageous front he put on for her. He wished she could've come with him. Then, another thought crossed his mind - he wished he'd given her some memento - just in case... No! He stopped himself before his mind could complete the sentence. It was going to be all right. Everything was going to go just as planned: he was going to arrive for his appointment, Eric would take him into his office, he would reveal himself as Eric's son, Eric would be delighted and then Monkey would tell him about the rebels, ask for his help and Eric would agree. Sorted!

He felt ridiculous walking around town dressed as a nurturer. It was one thing to cycle out into the rurals like it, where no one was likely to see him, but to brazen it out in the middle of town was ranged! He kept his head lowered,partly to avoid the cameras but also so that he wouldn't be recognised by any marauding Mooners or passing pre-nurturers from school. The last thing he wanted was Moni Morrison to see him in a skirt and get Security on to him - apart from anything else, there was no way he'd be able to leg it in court shoes!

A pile of wilting flowers round the base of the clock tower brought him to an abrupt stop. They were in memory of Fuse and he paused for a moment, paying his respects to his mate. As he stood by the flowers, the interminable advertising screens flashed their slogans across The Plaza. Slogans that, a few weeks ago, he would never have thought to question:
RESPECT BREEDS RESPECT.
Respect? he thought, bitterly. What does The Assembly know about respect? Where was their respect for breeders and providers? He was on the point of turning away when one of the plasma-screens flashed up the next advert and Monkey stood frozen to the spot.

WANTED

FOR CONSPIRACY TO COMMIT

ACTS OF TREASON

Below the headline were two photographs, one of himself, the other of Angel. He went cold. His eyes darted around the people making their way home - females to their families, males to their segregated zones - checking that he hadn't been recognised. Monkey pulled up the collar of his nurturer's coat and dropped his head again, walking as quickly as he could to Leadlow Chambers.

Eric's practice was on the ground floor of a large office block at the north side of The Plaza but, when Monkey arrived, the building was in darkness. He pressed the entry-phone and rattled the doors. He checked his ring-cam - 18:05. He'd wasted time. It had taken him ten minutes to walk there. But, even though he was late, the building was in darkness and the last thing he wanted was to be hanging around dressed as he was. Nervously, he pressed the buzzer by the door again.

If he didn't get any response this time, he told himself, he was getting out of there - pronto. A light flickered on and Monkey could just make out an elderly post-nurturer as she shuffled through to the front of the office and buzzed him in. Eric, she said, was still in court. He'd been due back an hour ago but Roxanne was welcome to wait.

‘Erm...' Monkey's mind went blank. He hadn't planned for this. ‘Fine,' he muttered in as high-pitched tone as he could manage.

He took a seat in the corner of the waiting room, relieved to be able to take the weight off his feet. How nurturers walked all day in those shoes was beyond him! He looked at his ring-cam again - 18:10. Idly, he scrolled through the plasma-journals on a low table in front of him but most of the news was of the election. He pressed the Sports button and saw an account of a pro-football exhibition. Any other time, it would have been interesting but, today, he couldn't focus. Time was running on. The elderly secretary was hovering, obviously keen to leave. Monkey was sure she was eyeing him suspiciously. Perhaps she'd recognised him from the wanted posters in town? He kept his head low, checking the time every few minutes.

Monkey had just decided to leave it and make another appointment when a tall male figure came through the door and spoke distractedly to Monkey and the secretary at once.

‘Good evening, I'm sorry I'm late. Thank you, Frances, you can go now. Roxanne, if you'd follow me, I'll see you now.'

Monkey stared at the back of his head as he led him through to an office at the back of the building. Was this really his father? This brusque individual who hadn't even given him a second glance? Since seeing Tragic with Tom, Monkey had played through this moment a hundred times; sometimes, Eric had recognised his son instantly and had clutched him to his chest, others it had taken a few moments to register. In none of his imaginings had Eric walked past him without even a hint of recognition. Monkey swallowed to hide his disappointment and began to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all.

The office was large and disorganised. Books, files and plasma-papers littered the desk. Eric poured himself a cup of coffee from a machine on the side, flicked on a large screen and indicated for Monkey to sit down.

‘I understand,' he said, rubbing his head and staring at the screen, ‘that you've been referred to me by...' His voice trailed away as he scoured the screen for the information he required. ‘I'm afraid I don't appear to...'

Monkey's heart was racing. He could feel his cheeks flushed and hot. He pulled the wig from his head and said falteringly, ‘P.A.R.E.N.T. I've been referred by Jane Patterson and some other members of P.A.R.E.N.T. who've been arrested for...'

Eric looked at him coldly. ‘I'm aware of the circumstances of Jane Patterson's arrest. Now perhaps you can explain who you are and why you are wasting my time by entering my premises under false pretences. You have two minutes before I summon Security.'

Monkey felt his throat constrict. It wasn't supposed to be like this. ‘It's me,' he faltered. ‘Mickey - Michael Gibbon.' Eric remained expressionless. ‘Your son!'

Eric nodded slowly. ‘Are you aware that you are wanted for treason?'

Anger rumbled up from Monkey's guts. ‘Is that it? Is that all you can manage after fifteen years?'

‘What did you expect?' Eric poured another cup of coffee and sighed. ‘A sentimental male bonding experience, perhaps?'

Monkey rose to his feet. ‘Yes, actually, that's exactly what I was expecting. Stupidly, I thought you might be happy to see the son you gave your genes to.'

Eric eyed him over the rim of his coffee cup. ‘It was a business transaction; nothing more. I gave Vivian my...'

‘I know what you gave her!' Monkey held out his arms as if to say:
here I am - look at me.
‘I just thought you might be a little more interested in what you got in return.'

‘A son who's a dissident and a traitor,' Eric mused. ‘Not a good investment, I'd say.'

‘Cheers! So that's all I am to you is it? A bad investment?' Monkey shook his head in despair. ‘So why did you
invest
in the first place? Because The Assembly required you to?'

Eric raised an eyebrow. ‘You'll understand when your time comes.'

‘Nice of you to keep track - but guess what? My time
has
come - and I
don't
understand. Perhaps you could explain why you chose to breed - three times - with the same nurturer and then walk away. You're clearly a bloke with a brain,' Monkey's voice was rising, ‘but you're telling me that you've never questioned the system? Never wondered what happened to your children?'

‘Vivian let me know when you and Penny were born - and I put two and two together when I saw the posters.'

‘And that's it? That's the extent of your input? To know that I'd been born?'

Eric shrugged. ‘It's for the best.'

Monkey slapped his hand to his head. ‘Jeez! You sound just like Vivian! What is it with you people? You know, a month ago, I was buying into the whole Assembly thing too - but my excuse is that I was young and didn't know any better. Now, I may be only a few weeks older, but I've seen better - with my own eyes. I know there's an alternative. What's your excuse?'

Eric sighed and looked at his ring-cam - gold, flashy and obviously expensive. ‘It's better to maintain the status quo. If it's not broken, don't fix it and the system works very well.'

‘How?' Monkey was exasperated. ‘Have you walked round town at night recently? You might get to sit in your nice penthouse with your flashy furniture but the movs can't cope! There are hoods running riot out there. My friend was shot - practically on your doorstep - because the pres are out of control and you big fat providers are happy just to sit back and
maintain the
status quo
.' He sucked in air through his teeth in disgust. ‘I really thought more highly of you than that.'

Eric remained impassive. ‘If you can't be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself, Michael. Admit it: if you weren't in trouble with The Assembly, you wouldn't be here now. Amazing how you've shown not one iota of interest in who bred you until you're on the run. Then, hey presto, you come knocking at my door - wanting free legal representation I've no doubt. Well, let me tell you - I've worked hard to build up this practice and I will not jeopardise it for the likes of you and your little band of revolutionaries.'

Monkey slumped down in the chair again. ‘For your information -
Dad
– I didn't even know I'd been accused of treason until I was on the way here. I've wanted to trace you since a friend of mine showed me how fathers and sons could work together, supporting each other, caring about one another...' He swallowed, determined not to let his bitter disappointment affect him. ‘...even love each other!' He leant forward in the chair and held Eric's gaze. ‘I risked my own life, and the lives of other people, to find out who you were and where I could find you. It's got nothing to do with wanting anything from you - except a relationship.' He leant back, emotionally drained. ‘But it seems that I was expecting too much. I was thinking I'd find a man with balls. Instead, I find someone too old, or too tired, or too selfish to care about anyone except himself. And,' he said, standing and pulling on his wig, ‘traitor or no traitor, I'm ashamed to say I'm your offspring. I won't trouble you again.'

Eric rose. ‘I'll show you to the door.'

‘Don't bother.'

Eric followed him out of the office. ‘You should be grateful - I really ought to have held you here and informed Security.'

‘So, why don't you?' Monkey challenged. ‘I'm clearly nothing to you so go ahead - don't do me any favours.'

As they reached the door Eric turned to his son. ‘For what it's worth, it's been good to see you. I'm sorry about the circumstances. I had every intention of looking you up when you graduated, but there isn't any room for sentimentality in the Providers' Zone - you would've understood if you hadn't...'

Monkey ground his teeth. ‘Save it.'

He made to open the glass door but stopped and stared at the scene of chaos outside in The Plaza. A stealth beamed its intermittent light around the square like a crimson strobe. Security officers had surrounded two females. The mov was shouting and being restrained; the younger pre was being arrested. Monkey recognised the nurturer first: it was Sally Ellison, Angel's nurturer. A cold shaft of dread filled his being. He looked towards the pre who was being dragged into the stealth - and his worst fear was realised. They'd got Angel.