Take Back the Skies (21 page)

‘Are we just going to … leave him there?' she asked.

Matt shrugged.

‘Why not? If he raises the alarm when he wakes up, who's going to believe his story? They'll just think he's still drunk from last night.'

‘Done,' Fox called a few moments later, pushing the gate ajar.

‘You took your time,' Ben remarked.

‘I've wired a loop into the secondary lock, opening both of them just by opening the secondary. It'll be easier than trying to wrestle with that primary lock after it's fixed,' Fox explained.

One by one, they followed Fox into the government compound. Cat had never been in via the east side before; she had only ever entered through North Gate near her house and where all the higher members of government had offices. Going by the blueprints, they were close to the newscast building, and there would be an entry door to the government building in an alcove round the corner to their left.

‘This is where we leave you, then,' Harry declared reluctantly, glancing up at the imposing structure.

Cat swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing that if things went badly, it could be the last time she saw the three men who had become such close friends. She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Matt's waist and burying her face in the soft fabric of his coat.

‘Be careful,' she told him, turning to direct her statement at Ben and Harry too.

Matt hugged her back tightly.

‘You too, girlie. Trust each other, and don't take risks. We'd rather have you out alive than have all the information in the world.'

She nodded, releasing him to hug Ben.

‘Fox will look after you. Even if he makes you want to throttle him at times,' he whispered into her ear.

‘And Matt will look after you. As always,' she replied.

Ben nodded back at her.

‘That he will.'

She moved to hug Harry, who kissed the top of her head in a fatherly manner that almost had tears welling in her eyes.

‘If this doesn't work out, thank you for everything,' she told him sincerely.

He smiled back, clapping her shoulder.

‘It will, but you're welcome, anyway. Now, get going before someone comes.'

As soon as they found the alcove, Fox knelt by the security-locked door, flipping the panel and pulling a pair of pliers from his coat pocket.

Cat kept watch as Fox worked; she was expecting guards to pass by on their rounds at any moment. Finally, she heard a loud click, and the door swung inwards, revealing a long, empty corridor. Slipping inside, Fox closed the door behind them. There were three branches to the corridor where they stood: left, right and forward.

‘Which way?' Cat whispered.

Fox shrugged, pointing left.

‘Why?'

‘No reason, just feels like left is a good way to go,' he replied with a wry smile.

‘Left it is, then.'

Cat had never been so pleased to see the pretentious architecture and decoration; the deep, shaded alcoves set every few feet down the hallway were invaluable for hiding from the occasional person going from room to room. Obviously not everyone had been allowed to leave for worship. The walls were painted a deep purple above the
wooden panels which covered the bottom half, and wrought silver lamps lit the way, the thin flames causing flickering shadows to dance across the walls and floor. As they walked further and further, sticking to the shadows and staying near silent, Fox was both impressed and disgusted at Cat's continued ability to identify the majority of people who passed them while they were safely concealed in alcoves.

‘How on Tellus do you know these people? Surely your father didn't meet
all
of them?' he queried in a hushed tone. Cat shrugged.

‘He was a very busy man,' she replied. ‘And some of them live in our square,' she added.

Fox shuddered at the thought of living in the same area as such pompous bastards, and asked her how she stood it.

‘I didn't exactly have much of a choice,' she pointed out drily, before pressing a finger to her lips as they passed a door. He looked at her quizzically as she crept closer, crouching low to press her ear to the gap beneath the door. They heard strains of conversation, mostly complaints about long working hours.

‘Boss said we need more for one last push, but I don't see where we'll get them from. I know we're running out of test subjects, but the Collections have taken just about every thirteen-year-old to be found,' one man muttered in irritation. She quickly reached inside her coat, flicking the switch on the audio recorder in her waistcoat. ‘We can't start taking first-borns, or there'll be hell to pay.'

‘What boss says, boss gets, though,' another man replied grumpily. ‘Maybe we'll have to start taking them younger. If they carry on with all that war effort tripe people will practically give their kids away to fight for their country.'

Cat's eyes widened, meeting Fox's.
Test subjects?

‘Not like he has anything to worry about now, is it? Nor me, for that matter, I never had any brats of my own.'

The man's companion guffawed loudly.

‘That's 'cause you can't get a woman!' he jeered, earning a growl from the first man.

‘Like you're any better,' he retorted. ‘Still, I'll have to have a chat with Caden about it, tell him what boss said about needing more. He's bound to have a few ready to be brought in. If not, we can always clear out Miss Kasey's. Susie was saying how Miss Kasey was complaining about being short for cash with all those kids – she probably wouldn't mind us taking the runts off her hands.'

Cat gasped silently in horror. The truth was that Miss Kasey never said anything but kind words about her children. The poor woman had probably been fighting tooth and nail to stop the government taking them all.

‘That might work. At least Johnno cleared up a little space, sending the successful experiments for further modification. We should be able to spread the current batch out a bit more, get a new lot in from the country. And it's freed up some of the equipment,' the second man said, sounding pleased.

‘Yeah, Alex wanted to move the ones in Lab Seven over to Lab Sixteen this afternoon. We should probably finish up here before shift switches, or Trent will be complaining again.'

‘Bloody Trent,' the second man muttered darkly. ‘Him and his smarmy face and fancy suits, thinking he's better than us just because he's cosy with the Jacksons.'

Cat bit her lip, leaning down to whisper both into the microphone and to Fox, who was eyeing her curiously.

‘Jackson family, of Haybury, secondary heirs to the Portland fortune through Mrs Jackson. Riley Trent, Connor Jackson's friend and business partner,' she muttered quickly, flicking the recorder off when she noticed the men had gone silent. She and Fox retreated to the nearest alcove, Cat letting out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

‘They're testing something on the kids,' Fox murmured.

Cat nodded, shuddering at the thought.

‘Doesn't surprise me that Trent is involved, and probably Jackson too. Connor Jackson hates kids – his wife is barren, so he's lost any chance of inheriting her family's fortune if her older brother dies childless. It'll go straight to her younger brother, George,' she explained.

‘Serves the bastard right,' he said angrily. ‘Shall we get moving, then?'

Cat nodded, letting Fox lead the way to the end of the corridor. He stopped, causing her to run into his back. She swerved round him to see what had caused the sudden halt. Her jaw dropped; right in front of them was a seemingly endless spiral staircase, flattening out every few feet down to lead off to another corridor. Cat couldn't see how many floors it led to; she lost count after it went pitch-black at six.

‘Bloody hell,' she breathed, stunned. This definitely hadn't been on any blueprints she'd ever seen, nor had she come across it during visits with her father.

Fox slipped his watch from his pocket, flipping the cover open.

‘It's about to get busy in here,' he declared. ‘How about we head a little lower?'

‘We'll have to do it quickly,' Cat reasoned, biting her lip. ‘All the way to the bottom?'

Fox nodded, and with a deep breath the pair of them started to run. He began practically flying down the staircase. Cat followed him, trying not to trip over her own feet. Fox's footsteps were almost noiseless, which surprised Cat; it was a metal staircase, and she was finding it difficult not to make a racket. They raced to the bottom, adrenalin pumping furiously, and Fox nearly hit the wall when he finally reached the end, stopping abruptly and turning to catch Cat before she could run into him. She landed in his arms with a soft thud, finding herself squashed against his chest.

‘Sorry,' she mumbled, embarrassed.

‘No harm done,' he said lightly, releasing her and turning to look around. The bottom floor turned out to be a small, round room, with just one door. Cat stared upwards, gulping at the expanse of blackness.

‘We must be almost a hundred feet under the city,' she breathed. ‘What could possibly be so important that they'd dig this far down?'

‘Only one way to find out,' Fox replied. He knelt down to examine the lock of the door, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. ‘Bloody hell, this is some pretty intense lock work.' He swore softly, twisting to reach into his bag.

Cat moved closer, eyeing the lock over his shoulder. She couldn't make head nor tail of it, and it impressed her that Fox could. He pulled a small metal box from the bag, which
he opened to reveal several fine-tipped tools. He picked out a tiny screwdriver and set to work on the lock. Cat leaned back against the wall beside the door, letting him work in peace, trying not to panic. Someone could come down and find them at any moment, and they'd have nowhere to hide.

‘There!'

‘You've done it?' she asked.

‘Did you doubt me?' he replied cockily, turning the handle. Heart beating frantically, Cat unconsciously reached out to grab the back of Fox's close-fitting jacket, standing behind him as he opened the door.

Far from what she expected, Cat was shocked to see what appeared to be a quaint, well-decorated living area that wouldn't have been out of place in her previous home. There was even a newscast screen in one corner perched on a dark wood table, and a pair of comfortable-looking brown leather sofas arranged at a right angle to face it, a matching coffee table between them. The room was decorated in purples and greys, the royal colours of Anglya. There were three doors off the room, and a small kitchenette area with a sink, a cold box, some cupboards and a kettle.

‘Someone is living down here,' she murmured incredulously, moving out from behind Fox when it seemed there was no danger.

Suddenly, one of the doors opened, and both Cat and Fox froze, eyes darting for somewhere to hide. A skinny blond boy about Cat's age walked confidently through the door, stopping when he saw them. His crystal blue eyes widened in alarm.

‘You're not the guards!' he exclaimed.

Cat eyed him curiously, wondering why he seemed so familiar. He certainly didn't look dangerous.

At his shout, a woman ran in behind him, causing Cat to gasp. She had
definitely
seen this elegant woman before, both in person and in photographs, though the former hadn't happened for over eight years. She was much thinner and paler, and her blonde hair was greying, but she was definitely the same woman. That explained who the boy was too. Storms, he'd grown.

‘Who are you? And what are you doing in our rooms?' the ivory-faced woman asked imperiously.

‘It can't be!' Cat breathed, stunned. ‘Queen Mary?'

‘Who are they, Cat?' Fox asked, his shoulders tense, watching the two strangers warily.

Before Cat could answer, the blonde woman's confusion turned to a gasp.

‘Storms! You look so much like her. Are you … do you know Elizabeth Hunter?'

Cat nodded dumbly, unsurprised the woman recognised her. She'd seen pictures of her mother at her age, and other than hair colour they were practically a mirror image.

‘Cat, who is she? How does she know your mother?' Fox insisted urgently. Cat turned to him, still looking shell-shocked.

The woman's hand flew to her mouth. ‘Catherine?'

‘Fox … if I'm not mistaken, this is Queen Mary Latham, and her son Prince James. The lost monarchs of Anglya.'

‘Good one,' Fox said, forcing a laugh. ‘You nearly had me there. Really, Cat, who are they?'

‘She's telling the truth,' Mary told him gently, before gesturing to the two sofas. ‘Quick, shut the door before anyone sees you. We haven't got long before the guards bring lunch.'

Still stunned, Cat led Fox over to the nearest sofa, sitting on the edge nervously. Mary folded her purple skirts under her and sat delicately on her sofa, James at her side looking perplexed, thin hands folded neatly in his lap. James was eyeing Cat as if he didn't know what to make of her. She now knew where the little boy her mother had wanted her betrothed to had gone. Did he remember her like she did him?

‘If you're the monarchs, how long have you been here? You went missing before the war ended,' Fox said, and James looked over at him in alarm.

‘How do you know the war is over?' he asked suspiciously. ‘The newscasts tell everyone, especially the commoners, that it's still going on.'

Fox leaned back into the sofa cushions, though Cat could tell he was far from relaxed.

‘Oh, the majority of the people are under that impression. But you didn't answer my question,' he added, eyes fixed on the queen.

‘They kidnapped us when James was barely seven years old, and brought us here. They said the country didn't need a monarchy any more, that it had
outgrown
us.' Mary began, her voice bitter.