Scott Andrews - Children's Crusade

"I know. Matron told me."

"What?"

"Lee, did you get to Nottingham?" asked Ferguson.

"Um, yeah, there are some of your mates in the hospital. Just down the road on the right." He took off past me to compare notes with his colleagues. Caroline walked to the back doors of the lorry and opened them, revealing a small army of children huddled in the back.

"Caroline," I asked. "Have you seen Jane?"

She nodded, and something about the way the blood drained from her face told me that she did not have good news for me.

"I meant to ask," says Cooper as we walk the corridors of power. "Were your people responsible for taking the plane at Heathrow last week?"

"Someone took a plane?"

He examines my face closely to see if my surprise is genuine. He decides it is, and he nods.

"Yeah, a bloody 747, no less. A woman and a bloke killed a bunch of my guys and flew to New York leaving me with four months worth of children backed up at the airport."

"I came here to kill you," I suddenly blurt out, frustraated by small talk.

"No, you came here to kill the man who killed your brother. Your surprise prevented you from killing me. And now I've answered all your questions, you have all the facts at your fingertips. So you have a choice."

"Which is?"

"Join me or die," he says slowly, rolling his eyes, as if explaining something very simple to an idiot.

"But why offer me that choice? Why not just kill me? What makes you think I won't pretend to join up in order to save my life until I can find a way to betray you?"

He sighs and looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head at my obstinacy. "I like you, Kate. Always did. You've got, what do they call it? Pluck, spunk, guts."

"God, you really are a public school boy, aren't you."

"Plus, you know, you're not bad looking all told."

"Oh thanks," I say, then a thought occurs to me. "Christ, you're not saying you want to go steady?"

"Don't be silly. I'd wake up with a knife in my heart."

"Trust me, it wouldn't get that far."

"Pity," he says with a wink, as he walks away. I trail after him as he promenades through his echoing palace, confounded. I just can't work out why I'm still alive.

"This is the central lobby," he says as we enter a huge chamber with four corridors running off it at each point of the compass. A massive chandelier hangs above our heads and statues regard us gnomically from the shadows. "Directly above us is a big tower and in it there's this huge metal contraption, like an engine," says Cooper. "No-one has any idea what it is. You see, when they were building this place they gave the contract for the central heating to a guy who said he had a revolutionary new system that he would install. Once he was done all they had to do was switch it on and voila, nice warm Palace. But when they opened it for use they switched it on and nothing happened. So they called for the guy to come explain and he'd gone. Legged it with the money! So no-one knows if this machine above is a real central heating system that turned out not to work, or a huge fake thingy put there to make the con look good!"

As he talks I realise he's enjoying himself, holding court, having an audience. And then it dawns on me that I haven't seen him speak to anyone since I arrived. He's barked orders, taken reports, had brief conversations about logistical issues, all with his fellow ex-SAS inner circle or the newly recruited chancers and religios. But I've picked up no sense of camaraderie, no friendship, just cold business.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I say as it hits. He turns to look at me.

"What?" he asks.

"You're lonely. That's it, isn't it? It's lonely at the top for the poor slave trader. You don't have any friends, only subordinates and acolytes. You don't want a girlfriend, necessarily. You just want someone to talk to."

He says nothing, but the smile has gone from his face, the mask has dropped and there's a warning in his eyes. He doesn't try to deny it, though.

"So you think I'll just hang out with you while you tell me top Parliament facts, and bitch about how hard it is pimping for a vampire? You think we'll end up buddies? That I'll gradually come to understand, to empathise and commiserate? And how do you see this ending, huh? Will I fall into your arms and soothe away your ennui, finally won over by your dignity and…"

A single, shocking slap to the face silences me. But only for a moment.

"You are fucking deluded, you know that? Look at where we are. Look at what you do. You're the fucking King, Cooper. You don't get to have friends. You get to have subjects. You don't get understanding. If you're lucky, at best you get loyalty, at worst obedience through fear and then betrayal. That's the job, your majesty. Fucking live with it."

I fall silent, breathing hard, furious and defiant.

He waits for a moment, although whether he's waiting for me or him to calm down, I'm not sure.

"You just demonstrated exactly why I want you around Kate," he says softly, his face full of something like admiration.

"What, 'cause I think you're pitiful?"

"No. Because you kept talking even after I slapped you." He turns on his heels and walks away briskly. "Try anything clever and you'll be shot," he says over his shoulder. "See you at seven sharp for dinner."

So here I am, given the run of the Houses of Parliament. I'm not alone, though. I've got a shadow; a bored looking soldier who lurks around corners and watches from a distance in case I try and scale the barbed wire fences, stroll through the minefields or jump into the river… actually, that's not a bad thought.

I gaze out of a first floor window, considering the current of the Thames. I can see it swirl and roil beneath me, strong, tidal and deadly. Freezing cold, too. I dismiss the idea. It would be suicide. I glance at the ornate cornices that decorate the outside, wondering if maybe I could climb down at low tide. But no. Again, suicide.

A rope perhaps? I file that thought away.

I notice a sign directing me to the House of Lords and I figure I may as well take a look. I'm surprised to find a guard on the door. He sits on a chair staring into space, not enough wit even to read a book to pass the time. As I approach I wonder if he's in some kind of coma, but he looks up as I reach for the doors.

"You got the boss's permission to go in there?" he says, his voice a low moan of thoughtless boredom.

"No. Do I need it?"

He purses his lips and shrugs. "Knock yourself out," he says. "The one with the tattoos swings both ways. You clean up after yourself, though. If you damage anything, I mean. I'm not bloody doing it."

I have no idea what he's talking about, but I push open the door and enter the second chamber.

I'm greeted by a young black woman in a short black dress.

I stare at her for a moment, in surprise. Then my gaze moves past her to take in the room beyond. There are about twenty women here, all dressed casually. The upper benches have been made into little nests, with blankets and pillows and piles of clothing. It only takes me a moment to work out what I've walked into.

"Hey Jools, we got fresh blood!" yells the woman in front of me. A short Asian woman steps down from her nest and walks across the floor towards me. All eyes are on me.

Jools stands in front of me, hands on hips, assessing me.

"You a bit scrawny," she says. "They'll feed you up, tho. You got a name?"

"Jane. I'm, um, not… Are you the boss here?"

A chorus of cackled laughter makes me blush. "Look behind you, sweetheart," says Jools. I turn and there, written across the doors in white paint is the legend: "We are your lords now. Bow down before us."

"Only boss here is Spider," she says. "But he visits me more than most, so I got his ear, like. You know?"