Broken Arrow

had repeatedly argued — to use the weapons they'd been handed on a plate? But the more she got to know Robert, the more she saw what kind of man he was and the more she loved him for his convictions. This wasn't an obsession with the past, as her own father had, but rather a revolt against the trappings of a world that spawned the virus in the first place. It had taken everything away from Robert, and left people like De Falaise free to use those kinds of weapons (weapons, she justified to herself, from a different era to her Peacekeepers). If they took up the same kind of arms, Robert had maintained, how long before they were back in the position of country vs. country, with the threat of weapons of mass destruction hanging over their heads again?

That was why he'd gone off to face this Tsar character, completely mismatched some might think. But they'd be underestimating him, and Mary knew in her heart that Robert was anything but crazy. He believed it was something worth fighting for, a principle worth dying for. She just missed him and hoped he was okay.

It was also why she had to go down to the caves and have a word with Gwen, stop her from bringing up more of those weapons. They'd fight whatever was coming in the same spirit as Robert, not as the mad Frenchman would have done. Because he'd lost, hadn't he? And they'd won.

Mary began down the narrow, sheer steps that led into the cave system. The stone was slippery and it was dark. As she descended, though, she saw a flickering light. Someone had turned on the jury-rigged lamps which De Falaise had set up down here. For some reason she couldn't quite understand, Mary was as quiet as possible, loathe to give away her presence.

She turned a corner and saw it: the arsenal that had been carried down here not long after their victory, Robert's men disarming the Sheriff's troops and locking their toys away where they couldn't hurt anyone anymore. Until perhaps now…

Because Mary saw the female figure there in the shadows, hunched down, rooting through the weaponry like a dealer at a scrap metal yard. It was time to announce herself.

'And exactly what do you think you're doing, Gwe-' Mary cut short her sentence when she realised her mistake. As the figure righted herself, she saw that this woman had short hair, and it was much darker than Gwen's. Slowly, the woman faced her.

'Hello Mary.'

'Adele.' For a second or two, Mary's mind couldn't quite process this turn of events. 'What are you doing down here?'

Adele just smiled that false smile of hers. 'I… I heard about what was happening. And Jack told me about the weapons down here, so…'

'So you just thought you'd come and help yourself?'

'I was scared.' But there was something in that voice which told Mary that Adele was anything but scared. This hadn't been a snap decision in the slightest, she knew exactly what she was doing. 'Robert's not here and…' Robert again? 'I'm glad you and him have patched things up,' she tacked on, quickly. 'Do you think he'll be all right?'

Mary frowned. What was she doing? Trying to change the subject, attempting to steer it away from why she was down in the caves after these weapons? Mary swept away all the confusion and let her instincts take over.

Don't trust her, Moo-Moo, said her brother's voice, so suddenly it almost made her start. She doesn't care about Robert. Not really. She doesn't care about any of you.

Nodding to herself, Mary then asked the most obvious question of all, the one she should have asked a long time ago. 'Who exactly are you, Adele?'

'What are you talking about?' she said, a bit too hastily.

'Who are you? It's a simple enough question.'

Now it was her who frowned. 'I'm Adele,' she confirmed, as if it answered everything. There was no response from Mary, so Adele began with: 'I was born in Durham, moved away when I was old enough, travelled around… What more do you need to know?'

She's lying.

When Mary remained silent, Adele continued, like she was reading from a prepared speech. 'Okay, I'm an only child, my mother brought me up on her own. It was… hard. My father… well, he left when I was very young. I never really knew him, but I would have liked to.'

The woman was all caring and sharing now — why? So Mary would have sympathy for her? Another tactic? Were these more lies? Mary couldn't tell for sure, but Adele's eyes appeared to be welling up.

'I never really knew who he was until the end. Until my mother…'

Mary thought about what had happened to David, about caring for him when he died.

Don't get suckered in Moo-Moo. Don't make this about me, concentrate on what she's saying. Listen, really listen.

'I found some stuff in an old trunk in the attic of the house,' Adele went on, as if she needed to get this out, share it with someone after so long. 'Papers, old photographs. I knew my father had been a soldier, but nothing more. I didn't even know his real name until then. Can you imagine?'

Was it Mary's imagination, or did Adele's voice sound different, as she was becoming more emotional?

'She told me he died in some accident while he was serving abroad. The bitch! Why? Why would anyone do that?' Adele was beseeching Mary, and now the tears did roll down her face. 'Everyone has a right to know where they came from, don't you think?'

The more Adele talked, the more her accent was slipping.

Born and brought up in Durham my arse… said David.

'Everyone has a right to know their father, Mary! I'd lay odds that you knew yours,' Adele almost snarled. 'So I set off to look for him. I had nothing but a name. I did not even know if he was still alive. I mean, my blood was his blood, but then we live in such dangerous times. I must have toured the breadth of Europe in those couple of years. But on the streets you hear rumours, and it only took one person to tell me they'd heard that name. One person who'd come across my father. Apparently he had been travelling too. Making friends all over the place. Enemies as well.'

Mary began to move her hand slowly, down and sideways.

'Then he headed across to England. I suppose he thought he could start again. I can understand him wanting to come, I spent some time here myself in my teens. Mastered the 'lingo' pretty well, too, don't you think?' For this last bit Adele's accent jolted back to British, but when she spoke again she didn't bother hiding her true voice, her native accent. 'So I followed his trail. All I wanted to do was meet him, get to know him, non? But by the time I got over here it was already too late. He really was dead this time. He'd been murdered.'

Mary's trembling fingers made their way slowly towards the Peacemaker sticking out of the front of her jeans.

'Strange thing was, he'd been killed by someone wearing a hood, carrying a bow and arrow. A legend. And why was he killed?'

'Because he was a sadistic scumbag,' Mary said seriously. 'Because he took delight in other people's pain.'

Adele shook her head. 'Spin, created by those who slaughtered him in cold blood. He had power; he was The Sheriff!'

'He was going to hang people, Adele — if that's really your name.'

'It is.'

'He kidnapped me and put a sabre to my throat.'

'Having spent time with you, I can certainly understand that.' Adele's false smile now looked even more wrong. 'My mother kept me from getting to know my father-'

'Wise woman,' Mary broke in.

Adele scowled. 'Then you people kept him from me forever. Well, I decided it was time you paid.'

'So you thought you'd worm your way in here, have us all at each other's throats? Was that the plan?' Mary's fingers inched a little nearer to the handle.

'Sort of,' admitted Adele. 'I believe my father used to use the same methods of infiltration, to get inside his enemies' lairs. But it was always going to come to this in the end.'