Dominion (65 page)

‘Why?’

Frank shook his head firmly. ‘I can’t tell you. The Resistance people know.’

‘Is David your real name?’

Frank should his head. ‘No. He was one of my friends.’ He felt tears pricking at his eyes.

‘Can you tell me your real name? If you can, I can ring for help. I’ve a number.’ Terry nodded at the telephone on the desk.

Frank hesitated, but it was all or nothing now. ‘Muncaster, Frank Muncaster.’

Terry picked up the telephone. He dialled a number. Someone answered and he spoke with unexpected crispness, ‘Reverend Hadley, St Luke’s Church. I’ve a man here, says the
police are after him. There’s been a raid nearby. His name is Frank Muncaster, repeat, Muncaster. Medium height, thin, brown hair, injured right hand.’ Then there was silence, the vicar
occasionally nodding and saying ‘yes’ briskly. He looked at Frank again and asked quietly, ‘Do you know how many of your people got away?’

‘Sean and Eileen, the people who were sheltering us, they were –’ his voice trembled ‘– I saw them killed. And Geoff, one of my friends, he was killed too,
it’s his blood on my cardigan. The other three – I don’t know. Outside, I heard a policeman say they were looking for “them”, so I hope some got away.’

The vicar relayed the information to the person at the other end. At length he said, ‘All right,’ and put the phone down. He looked at Frank. ‘They’ll come to collect
you. But it may take a while, the police are putting up roadblocks, closing off the whole district.’

Frank stood up, panic searing through him. ‘They could be searching the streets. What if they come here—’

Terry said, ‘It’s all right, if they do I’ll deal with them, they don’t know I’ve contacts in the Resistance.’ He smiled sadly, making his face look years
older. ‘They think I’m just the local do-gooder. Our man told me you were in a mental hospital where you tried to kill yourself,’ he added, more gently.

‘I’d do it now if I could. So they don’t get me.’

Terry shook his head. ‘That’s not what God wants.’

‘Isn’t it? Then why did he make a world where sometimes it’s the only choice you have left?’

Terry closed his eyes. How exhausted he looked. ‘Would you like to pray with me, for your friends?’

‘No.’ Frank’s voice shook with emotion. ‘No.’

They both jumped at the sound of a loud knocking. The vicar said, his tone suddenly one of command, ‘It’s the back door. I’ll go out and see. You stay here. If you hear me
coming back with someone else, run outside. But wait for me outside the door, don’t go back on the streets or they’ll get you.’ He looked at Frank. ‘Will you promise?
I’m your only chance. Please, do as I say. My wife’s in the soup kitchen,’ he added, his tone suddenly pleading.

Frank nodded wearily. It was like David had said in that field, he had responsibility for other people’s lives now. And all because Edgar had wanted to show him how clever he was, that
evening weeks ago in Birmingham.

The vicar went outside. Frank got up and put his ear to the door. He heard voices from the church, echoing in the cavernous space, but couldn’t make out the words. Then footsteps, several
of them, in the soup kitchen. He stood by the vestry door, ready to jump outside.

But when he heard footsteps approaching the door there was only one set. Terry came back into the room and sat down on the chair. He let out a long breath, running his finger round the inside of
his dog-collar, then produced a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. He said, ‘They’ve gone. Did you put the latch on the church door when you came in from
outside?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank God. I’ve convinced them I did it hours ago, and so no-one could have got in from outside. Otherwise they’d have searched the whole place. The only other way in or out
is through that back door, you see, that’s where people come for the soup kitchen. They gave me your description, they said there were two men and a woman as well.’

So David and Ben and Natalia had all got away, at least so far. Terry said, ‘It seems to be it’s you they’re keenest to find.’ He looked at Frank curiously. ‘Are
you a Jew? These roundups are unspeakable.’

‘No. No, I’m not a Jew.’

‘Cigarette?’

‘I don’t smoke.’

‘We had quite a few Jews coming to the soup kitchen, till they took them all away. Poor people, not even allowed to work in their professions any more.’ He sighed. ‘And all the
others without work and homes – my predecessor started the kitchen back in the thirties, when the Depression and mass unemployment began; it’s been used ever since. It’s gone on
for twenty years, apart from when everyone had work in the 1939–40 war. The police know me, they took my word nobody of your description came in. I hate lying, you know, even to them,’
he added.

Frank said, ‘Thank you. Thank you for what you did.’

The vicar smiled. He said awkwardly, ‘Perhaps the Lord is watching over us, eh?’

‘He didn’t watch over my friend Geoff, did he?’ Frank answered bleakly. ‘Or Mr and Mrs O’Shea.’ He looked up at Terry. ‘He doesn’t protect
anybody, not really. Don’t you understand that?’

D
AVID AND
B
EN AND
N
ATALIA STOOD
, trying to quiet their rapid breathing. In the entrance to the alley
they had taken refuge in, they saw two thin, weak beams of light. David thought, if it wasn’t for the fog, we’d all have been caught. But Geoff was gone, both the O’Sheas too, and
Frank was lost. They would catch Frank now and it would all have been for nothing.

‘Where the bloody hell are they?’ an angry voice asked from the road.

‘We’ll never find them in this. They’re putting a cordon round these streets. We’re going to have to pen them in, do a house-to-house.’ The policemen’s
footsteps faded away. They heard the sirens of Black Marias in the distance.

Suddenly a yard door opened right beside them in the alley. Ben and Natalia instantly turned and covered it with their guns. David saw a shape in the entrance, made out a fat old man in a cap
and raincoat, his mouth falling open with shock. There was something white at his feet – a small mongrel dog on the end of a lead.

‘Dinnae move, pal!’ Ben said quietly but fiercely. ‘Dinnae say anything and ye’ll no’ get hurt.’ The dog stared at him, then at his master. It growled
softly.

The old man gestured wildly at one ear. ‘Deaf,’ he said.

‘Fuckin’ ’ell!’ Ben leaned in to him. ‘Do you live in that house?’

‘Yes.’

‘Alone?’

‘Yes.’

The dog growled again. ‘Quiet, Rags,’ the old man said. ‘Don’t ’urt ’im,’ he whispered pleadingly. ‘’E’s old, ’e won’t
hurt you. Please, ‘e’s all I got since my wife died.’

Ben said, ‘We need coats.’ He gestured with his gun. ‘Go on, go back inside.’

‘Who are you?’ the old man asked pathetically. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Never you mind. What you dinnae ken can’t hurt you.’

A note of anger came into the old man’s voice. ‘You’re Resistance, aren’t you? Takin’ advantage of the fog for some stunt. Why can’t you just leave people
alone?’

‘We need warm clothes,’ Ben repeated grimly. ‘Fuckin’ get back in.’

Natalia touched David’s hand briefly. ‘I’ll go in with him. Stay here, don’t move. Take this.’ She handed him her gun. ‘You know how to use it?’

‘I was in the army.’

‘Good.’ She touched his arm softly, then followed Ben and the old man through the gate.

David stood in the fog. He was starting to shiver from cold; none of them had coats. He looked down the alley. It was quiet now but the streets would soon be full of policemen. A cordon, how
could they get out of that? They would be captured, or shot like Geoff. He gripped the cyanide pill in his pocket. He thought, at least Sarah’s safe.

He remembered the moment when the banging sounded at the front door. David had been lying naked on the mattress. Natalia was sprawled across him, a happy, slightly teasing expression on her face
as she played with the hairs on his chest, making them into little bunches of curls. But she jumped up, immediately alert, at the first crash from the front door. She said, ‘Get
dressed!’, her voice fierce, already throwing on her clothes. David had learned in the army to dress in moments. A second, splintering crash told him the door had been broken in. As he pulled
on his trousers he felt the cyanide capsule. She had given him a smile, fleeting, of infinite regret.

Ben and Natalia returned, slipping back through the gate. Natalia was wearing an old-fashioned fur coat that reached almost to her ankles, and Ben had on the heavy coat and muffler the old man
had been wearing. He passed a blue raincoat to David. As he put it on David asked, ‘What have you done with him?’

‘Left him tied up on his bed. The dog’s wi’ him.’ He shook his head. ‘Stupidest bloody mutt I ever saw. He says a neighbour’s coming to do some shopping for
him tomorrow. She’ll find him. If the police don’t first.’

‘Good at tying people up, aren’t you?’ David couldn’t help saying.

‘Just as well for you I am, pal. And for chrissake, keep your voice down.’

Natalia walked slowly to the end of the alley, the others following. David said, ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance of finding Frank in this.’

‘No,’ Natalia agreed. ‘We must find somewhere to hide. At least we have coats now, and they’ll be looking for people without them. Don’t worry, there is a
contingency plan.’

They spent over an hour feeling their way through the dark, deserted streets, not talking above a whisper, walking slowly to avoid bumping into things and to make as little
sound as possible. They didn’t hear any more police cars. Twice they ducked into alleys or behind garden fences at the sound of footsteps, once they saw the weak lances of torch beams. They
stood huddled by a wall until they faded away. Natalia whispered, ‘They’ll need hundreds to search the streets properly in this fog.’

‘Remember one of them was talking about a roadblock,’ Ben said. ‘That’s what I’d do, cordon the area off. Let’s keep movin’, we might be able to get out
before they can set it up.’

They came out into a wider street and walked slowly along, pressed against the walls. Then the brick gave way to spiked iron railings, bushes behind and the dim shapes of trees. There was a gate
with a sign on it. Natalia bent down close to read it.
Hanwick Park
. She looked along the road. A little way ahead was a tall, fuzzy rectangle of light which after a moment David realized
was a telephone box. Natalia whispered, ‘Let’s go in the park, we can hide among the trees. And I can telephone our people, get someone to try and collect us.’

‘What about the roadblock?’ David asked. ‘They’d never get someone here in time, in this.’

‘There’s a plan for something like this.’

‘What? Shooting their way through?’

‘Maybe not.’ She gripped his hand. ‘I can’t tell you. In case we get caught first. Wait and you’ll see.’

‘Come on,’ Ben said. He took off his coat and laid it over the spiked railings. David did the same and he and Ben managed to climb over. Natalia walked away up the street, invisible
almost at once. Inside the park, David saw the hazy light from the telephone box dim, saw a shape in there. His heart lurched; she was exposed, any police coming close could see her. It seemed an
age before she came out again, disappearing at once into the murk. She reappeared at the side of the railings and they helped her over.

‘I got through,’ she said, a triumphant note in her voice. ‘They’re coming.’

The three disappeared into the dripping vegetation of the park. They followed the inner side of the railings right round; it was small, an open lawned area in the middle. Then, at the far end,
they saw flashing lights in the road, torch beams, the shapes of men walking to and fro. Peering through the railings, they made out a police car parked sideways to block the entrance of the road,
its interior lights on. More cars were parked behind.

‘We almost walked into that,’ Ben whispered.

Natalia said, ‘It’s all right. We have to wait now. They’ll come.’

‘How are they going to get through that?’ David asked despairingly. He thought again of the cyanide pills. They could die here, together, he and Natalia and Ben. He felt a rush of
fear.

‘Trust me,’ Natalia whispered.

They fell silent, straining to see and hear as much as they could of what was happening ahead. They heard a hiss of static, then a man’s voice, talking loudly. ‘It’s going to
have to be a bloody powerful light to do anything at all in this damn stuff! Is it on a lorry?’ Other figures passed to and fro, bulky shapes revealed briefly by the car with the lit
interior.

Natalia said, ‘Move a little further into the trees, away from the railings.’

They eased their way through the bushes, holding branches aside for each other to avoid making a noise. They came to a spot surrounded by trees but with a view of the roadblock. Ben said,
‘If they shine a searchlight on the park, will they be able to see us?’

‘I don’t know,’ David replied. ‘Like he said, it would have to be a pretty powerful beam.’ He looked at Natalia. ‘Should we go back to the street?’

‘No, we have to stay here. This is where I told our people we would be.’

They were quiet for a minute. Then David whispered, ‘They killed Geoff, didn’t they?’

Natalia said quietly, ‘I think so.’

‘He was the best friend I ever had.’

She touched his arm. There was a rustle behind them. David whirled round, but it was only a grey squirrel, sitting on a branch looking at them. It made a chittering noise and disappeared.

‘Something’s happening out there,’ Natalia whispered urgently.

They turned back to where the police were. They heard a sound, a jangling bell but much louder than a police car, approaching very quickly. ‘The lorry with the searchlight,’ David
said. ‘Jesus, why is it moving so fast?’ His hand went to the pill in his pocket. Was this it?

‘No,’ Natalia whispered. ‘That’s our people.’

The sound grew louder. There was something familiar in the tone. Then a huge shape, red behind powerful headlights, loomed out of the fog, travelling at a dangerous, reckless speed along the
side of the park, towards the roadblock. It passed the spot where they were standing and came to a screeching halt just in front of the police car blocking the road. David saw to his amazement that
it was a fire engine, huge, solidly and squarely built, the turntable ladder on top. The bell stopped and the light in the cab came on, illuminating the figures of several men in tall helmets who
stepped down to the street. Staring through the railings David saw three policemen approach the firemen. He whispered to Natalia, ‘The Fire Brigade? Those are our people?’