Hallucinating (24 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

...testing the water...

A fortnight after Radio Free Festival is broadcasting again, a mysterious parcel arrives in Glastonbury, and it is addressed to Kappa. How was it delivered? By a man on a pushbike. A few days later Master Sengel and his quintuple flock arrive at the Chalice Well, and that is when news of the parcel reaches Kappa's ears. She leaves the others and walks down to the Faculty of Avalon, where she meets Slim Ciggie, who takes her to the Blue Note Café, this being where the parcel has been left. Today they're playing Shaman by Phil Thornton, and also stuff by the Ochi Brothers.

Kappa picks up the parcel. It's no larger than her hand; doesn't weigh much. The handwriting (blue biro) does not ring any bells.

Slim Ciggie glances at her. "You know what it is?"

Kappa shakes her head. "Better not be a bomb." She shrugs, then rips open the plastic wrap to reveal a vid phone. The women glance at each other. Somebody knows Kappa is based in Glastonbury and they want... what, to conference? This is beginning to disconcert. They order orange-and-coconut herbal tea, a slice each of space cake, then they go to sit at one of the tables. Kappa examines the vid phone; it's a Doobrie 2300 with 6 Megs.

It beeps once and she drops it, jumping back in her seat.

"Wh—"

"Hey, it's on!"

Slim Ciggie is correct, the damn thing has switched itself on. Worse, there is a tiny face on the screen.

"Jeez..." Kappa mutters.

Then a voice. "Hello? Kappa Smythe?"

Kappa frowns. Nobody in her circle bothers with her
surname...
who is this? She picks the vid phone up and looks into the screen. It's Greenstyle Patel and he says, "Hi."

Kappa stares for a moment.

"Surprised?" Greenstyle adds.

"Yeah... er, yes, I am, what did you send me this for?"

"We urgently needed to get in touch with you and the only address we had was Glasto." Greenstyle shrugs, and sucks at a fat reefer. "Seemed not unreasonable. So, you okay?"

"Well, I'm out of your bloody cell."

"Sure you are. Listen, I wasn't calling about that. The government has work to do and we wanna get going. I've been asked to liaise with you. Can we meet somewhere?"

Kappa snorts. "Yeah, when I bring a platoon of soldiers with me..."

Greenstyle shrugs again. "Whatever. We know you're pissed with us. Your call, eh? Somewhere you feel safe, as many bodyguards as you like."

"Don't patronise me."

"I ain't. You haven't heard the update? We're going greener than ever and we need you people to work with us."

Kappa, ever the optimist, ever the pragmatist, finds herself intrigued. Unlike Nulight, she hates opposition. Nulight would go berserk if he found her talking like this to the mouthpiece of the enemy. But she feels differently.

"Maybe I will meet you," she says.

"Great."

"Okay... on the sea front at Sidmouth. You and you alone. And don't plan any funny business, I'll be covered."

For the first time Greenstyle's affable manner departs. "Do you mean guns?"

"Not guns exactly," Kappa says, putting on a mystical air, and speaking quietly.

Greenstyle hesitates, then says, "Sure, no problem. Just me, you, and your cover. Is it okay if I record the meet for my boss?"

Kappa nods.

"But no funny business from your side either." Greenstyle grimaces. "I know what company you keep."

Kappa says nothing. Then, slowly, "When?"

"Say, three days? Noon."

Kappa nods, then cuts the connection. Slim Ciggie stares at her and breathes, "You'll go and meet him?"

"Of course. He wouldn't dare try anything."

"How can you be sure?"

"The person they're
really
frightened of is Master Sengel. They know he's behind our movement—they know he's the technical author. They're shit scared of him. Our Indian friend won't try anything on me—he needs me."

And so three days later Kappa finds herself in Sidmouth, with Master Sengel and the leather dude (who transported her on the back of his Harley) lurking on the beach, and she leaning against the railings, gazing at the ocean. There are a few people nearby, a remnant of the pre-invasion Sidmouth population, existing on farming and goat-herding, but the place is not busy. Two hundred people in this vicinity, max.

Greenstyle appears from a side street and approaches her. Kappa's heart begins to race, but she does not glance at her two aides, knowing that her face and movements may be on some nearby monitor screen. She must not give anything away. She turns away from the sea and faces the seafront buildings, leaning back and resting on her elbows; a nice, blasé pose that will indicate relaxation.

Easy.

Greenstyle approaches. "Nice to see you again," he says.

Kappa offers no reply.

"I ain't gonna apologise for what happened to you guys," he says. "You were inciting a riot."

"I don't think so," Kappa replies.

Greenstyle looks out to sea. "Forget all that. Bad start. Sorry. Look, I'll go first and be totally honest. We want you guys. We're setting up various bodies to make our government chime in with what people want—a whole new green department, with May Dee Ash in charge alongside whoever of your people you choose. Joint power."

"Huh," Kappa says, taking a hard line that she does not feel. "Like two dogs fighting for the same scrap of meat?"

"No—genuine power sharing. Don't you get it? We can't exist if we don't give the people what they want."

"They've already got what they want."

Greenstyle shakes his head. "Do you think Britain stands alone? Soon the French are going to make contact, the Americans—loads more. We need to be ready for the return of civilisation."

"The return? Well, Gandhi said it would be nice when it arrived."

"Funny—not. You're no cynic, and we know it."

Kappa shrugs. "Maybe you do. Maybe you're bluffing."

"Won't you consider working with us? We really do need you, and we're prepared to listen and to act. We're not like the old governments."

Kappa nods. This statement really is crap. "Leaving peaceful festi's alone," she says, "not attacking people with truncheons, always listening to the people, not arresting people and putting them in cells, not smashing up their gear... of course you're different to the old governments."

Greenstyle appears frustrated. "Look, I'm serious, Kappa. You think I'd work with May Dee Ash if it wasn't for the benefit of people and the land? I'm a dread, a Hindu, a green. Look at me. I got into your boyfriend's bands as he
discovered
them. I bought every CD. I'm basically on your side—but I work for order, not for chaos."

"We work for order too... but a different sort of order."

Greenstyle is becoming animated now. "Kappa, we have something that you don't. We have access to enormous resources that could be put to use for the new Britain. Don't fool yourself into thinking that somehow everything vanished when the aliens came. Alot of stuff is still available for use—and, Kappa, let me tell you that it's our
resources
and what we might do with them that'll convince you to work with us."

There is no doubt that Kappa is tempted. She understands the importance of social cohesion—her doctorate was entitled
The Contribution Of The Free Festival To Twentieth Century British Culture
—and she wants to believe that this new Lyme authority is a force for good. But... well, actually there are no buts that come to mind. Yet. Partnership is a possibility.

Greenstyle interrupts her flow of thought. "For instance, we genuinely want to set up a record label, because there's no doubt that people want music. We're thinking of calling it Voiceofbritain Records in honour of your boyfriend's label. Also we want to use the radio waves to broadcast music."

Kappa shudders. "You do?"

"Oh, yes. I thought of calling it Radio Green Britain."

Kappa avoids Greenstyle's gaze. This sounds like a threat. It was military pigs, after all, that attacked Totnes.

"Look, I know what you're thinking," Greenstyle says. "Let me say, I did every bloody thing,
every
thing, Kappa, to stop that raid, but it didn't work." He is angry, now; either that or he is a good actor. "I
told
them not to antagonise you. The tossers didn't listen. Fuckwits!"

Kappa sighs. "Like I told you before, I'm not dead against you. But we've got to take this relationship slowly."

"Fine by me. But give us a try. We're not the baddies."

Kappa says nothing, glancing away as if to diss Greenstyle's opinion. Then she reaches into her pocket and hands over the vid phone.

"We must keep lines of communication open," Greenstyle says, a note of desperation in his voice.

Kappa can see the sense of this. "Okay," she mutters, "I'll send a phone to you. Then I can be sure there's no tracer chip on me."

Greenstyle appears offended by this remark, but he bites back any retort. "One last thing," he says. "You people are good people, but so are we. Don't demonise us."

"Okay, okay," says Kappa, getting embarrassed.

"Right. I'm off. Speak to you soon."

Kappa nods. Greenstyle returns to the street from which he appeared.

Slowly, Kappa breathes in and out. She wants peace and balance in her country, and she does not want to fight; a politics of consensus, ideally. If she can somehow tame the excesses of the new government and point them in a Gaian direction... it could work. But convincing others will be difficult.

Knowing cameras might be trained on her, she takes time to think. It occurs to her that cameras might be set up in Glastonbury—but no, just the presence of Master Sengel, the invisible man, the techmeister, is enough to guarentee her safety. She grins. How the government would love to get their hands on Master Sengel.

Plans for the journey home are different; she must not pick up any kinks. It has been arranged that the leather dude will take the good Master home on the back of his Harley while Kappa returns on a scooter brought down earlier from Glasto. She will creep into the town during the night, and all will be well.

A couple of hours later she finds the scooter; the keys are in her pocket. She fires the wheezing alky engine then checks out the back basket, where she finds a selection of sandwiches, bottled water, and a range of scones—provisions for the trip home. Then she's off, negotiating pot-holes and fallen trees as she pootles along the ever-worsening lanes.

The road block is unexpected. One minute she's near Sparkford on a stretch of open road, the next she's spotted a man up ahead beside a horizontal tree, and she's slowing down. Then she's stopped. Glancing behind, she sees somebody else.

Her heart begins to race.

But the dude up ahead raises his arms to wave, and it is quite a cheery gesture. He is an old man with long, curly white hair, a psychedelic cloak, and a nifty brimmed hat, the whole making him appear somewhat wizardly; the walking stick that he leans on is a cylindrical glowing rainbow. The man behind Kappa is similarly non-threatening, though he has the build of a wrestler. As the old man approaches, Kappa recognises his face; and then, inspiration!

"Ed!"

Now the old man is just a few yards away, and it is indeed Ed Wynne out of the Ozrics. Realising that Nulight will be furious when he hears who he's missed, Kappa whispers a curse to herself.

"Ed," she says, louder. "Nice to see you... what are you doing here?"

Ed glances at the scooter. "Are you alone?" he asks Kappa.

"Yes, I am. Just riding back up to Glasto. Wanna come?"

Ed shakes his head. "Too risky."

Kappa is spooked by Ed's intense manner. "Risky?" Suddenly she has an awful thought. "You mean, something's happened up there?"

"Not that I know of. But I know who you spoke to in Sidmouth."

Now Kappa is feeling uncomfortable. "Who d'you mean? Greenstyle?"

Ed nods. "I'm here to give you a warning, Kappa. I'm part of the Zummerzet Agency for Investigation and Interception—ZAII for short."

Kappa, who has never heard this name mentioned before, shrugs.

"Like the Dorset Underground, who we work alongside."

Kappa nods.

Ed continues, "ZAII knows alot about what's going on. We don't like the Lyme Regis suits—their intention is to neutralise the radicals, bringing them into their organisation then smothering them. Simon Posford thinks the same, as do many others. So that's why I intercepted you. ZAII has a mole in the Department of the Environment who provides our information. Be careful, Kappa. Don't trust May Dee Ash, or even Greenstyle—he's a fake. Keep the Radio Free Festival faith."

With that, the guitar hero turns and walks through the five-barred gate that his colleague has obligingly opened, whereupon there is a whirring sound and a mini helicopter appears, to fly off in the direction of The Mill. The colleague shuts the gate, then walks in silence to lift the tree that forms the roadblock. And Kappa rides through.

...another one of those heavy meetings...

Six people sit in sofa/cushion/music/wine luxury in the meeting chamber at the Chalice Well: Master Sengel and his five most trusted. Kappa feels a tad out of place, being the newest member of the inner circle, but she is nonetheless bursting to tell her news.

Master Sengel allows her to speak, and she does, describing everything that happened with Greenstyle, mentioning also the ZAII thing. After Master Sengel uncorks a new bottle of the Ashburton '42 vintage, they get to discussing.

Deputy Smark it is who starts the ball rolling. "I am of the opinion that we should at least talk with government, even if we have no intention of working alongside them. This Greenstyle man, he was right—we must keep lines of communication open, not least because they have set up their own police forces... though exactly what laws they think they are enforcing is another matter."

Muttered agreement at this, for the Stonehenge violence has sunk deep, and nobody is going to forget it. Kappa says, "I got the impression that the Lyme Regis government... we really must stop calling them a government..."