'No,' I said. 'Not entirely.'
He leaned back and took another sip. He gestured with his head for me to continue. I took a deep breath and plunged in.
'Bates may have been right about the tribe thing. I dunno, I was never really into history myself. But it sounds plausible. And if he was right then, yeah, strong leaders are probably a necessary evil, for a while anyway.
'I didn't think much of Bates as a leader. He was bloody useless, frankly. He froze whenever anything difficult happened, and that was dangerous for everyone. He was a liability.
'I don't think crucifying the poor bastard was the answer. But all right, that's done now, and you're leader. Let's ignore what you did to get the job, the question is what are you going to do now you've got it?'
I paused; I needed to phrase this right.
'What I want to know is this,' I said. 'Do you intend to use the same level of cruelty to hold onto your position as you did to get it?'
'If I need to, yeah,' he admitted. 'But I don't think I will. I only need to get nasty if there's anyone who looks likely to challenge me. And I don't think there is. I can lay off a bit. Already have done.'
'Yeah, I've noticed. I must admit I was expecting things to get really bad when you took control but that's not happened.'
It was so weird talking openly to him like this. I was still half sure that this conversation was going to end with a gunshot, but he'd left me with no choice but honesty and I was committed now. Still, I didn't need to be completely honest.
'Look, Lee, I've got the job now,' he said. 'I'm going to toughen these boys up, and my officers are going to help with that. But I have to get the balance right, make sure I don't piss them off so much that I lose them. I've got their obedience, but I need their loyalty and their respect. And I know that's going to be difficult for me. Not my strong suit.
'With you at my side I reckon I've got a shot at winning them over. I watch you; you get on with the juniors and stuff. They just annoy me, and I fucking terrify them. Which is good, don't get me wrong, I want them scared of me. But only scared enough. I need a bit of niceness in the mix. Carrot and stick, yeah? And that's why I need you.'
'I can see it now,' I laughed. 'Lee Keegan, the caring face of crucifixion. So what, you want me to be your conscience? To keep you in line?'
'If you wanna put it that way, yeah. Let me know if I'm going too far. Keep your ear to the ground with the boys. Keep me up to date with how they're feeling. Watch the officers and find out which ones might be a problem.'
'Wylie,' I said briskly.
'Really? I like him. He's cruel,' he said with relish.
I gave Mac my best 'well, duh' expression.
'Yeah, okay,' he said. 'Well, that's my point, innit. You notice this stuff. We make a good team. Plus, I can rely on you in a fight. And that's important. Coz we've got a lot of fighting to do, I reckon.'
'So I'm your second-in-command. I can give orders to the officers, and my job is to back you up and let you know when I think you're going too far. And I'm doing this because a strong ruthless leader is our best chance of survival in a tribal world. That about right?'
'Yeah.'
I made a show of considering my response and then I leaned forward and held out my hand.
'All right, I'm in.'
But as he took my hand in his all I could think about was what he'd done to Matron and Bates, and how badly I could make him suffer before I ended him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The guard looked us up and down with an expression of distaste.
'What do you want?'
Petts held out a battered Sainsbury's bag.
'We've got vegetables, cheese and milk to trade at the market,' he said.
The guard peered into the bag.
'Got any Cheshire?'
'Um, no, sorry. It's just home made stuff. It's kind of soft, like Philadelphia.'
The guard sniffed. 'Filthy stuff. My wife used to eat that. Shame,' he said wistfully. 'I did love a bit of Cheshire.'
We stood there looking expectant as he drifted away into a soft, crumbly reverie. Williams cleared his throat.
'What? Oh yeah, well, you'd better come in then. Bill will pat you down.' He nodded to his colleague, who stepped forward and searched us for weapons. When he was done he pushed the barbed wire and wood barrier aside and nodded for us to go through.
'Curfew's at seven,' said Bill. 'If you plan on staying you'd best find yourself a bolthole before then. There's rooms at the pub, if you can pay.'
Petts, Williams and I walked through the barricade and into Hildenborough.
As far as Mac was concerned this small town, three miles down the road from the school, was our first problem. It was these guys he was preparing us to fight.
To borrow Mac's terminology, their strong tribal leader was George Baker, local magistrate. The man who'd so ruthlessly hanged McCulloch and Fleming was a zero tolerance kind of guy who, like Mac, believed in public demonstrations of authority.
Petts and Williams visited Hildenborough once a week to attend a market at which they would trade the vegetables, meat and cheese they produced. Petts hadn't managed to convince anyone to eat the snails he collected, though.
Markets are a good place for gossip, and Hildenborough boasted what must have been the only working pub for a hundred miles, so it was good place to gather intelligence. The plan was for the others to trade as usual – for some reason Williams was desperate to find a good homebrew kit – while I mingled and got the lie of the land.
The town was well defended. Although it is ringed by open country on three sides, it kind of bleeds into Tonbridge on the fourth, making this the hardest front to defend against attack. To address this they had bulldozed a whole tranche of houses to create an exposed approach, then erected a bloody great fence and put in impressive gun towers. All it needed was a few spotlights and some German Shepherds and it would have been Berlin in the fifties.
Consequently the sides facing open country, where the guards were mostly posted on obvious routes like pathways and roads, were slightly more exposed and would be easier to infiltrate, especially after dark. Knowing this, Baker had imposed a strict curfew. Petts had discovered that the guards patrolled in pairs, with torches, and all wore high visibility jackets to prevent friendly fire incidents.
Before The Cull this part of Kent used to resound with the noise of shotguns blasting away at birds, so the Hildenborough survivors had no shortage of guns and ammunition. But our armoury was far more impressive, so if it came to a shooting match we'd have the advantage. In terms of numbers, Williams thought there were about forty men who acted as guards, and about two hundred residents in total.
Mac wanted me to establish some details about Baker himself, and find out whether he was likely to try and expand his territory.
Petts, Williams and I, all dressed in mufti so as not to attract attention, made our way through town to the market, which was held in front of the large stately home that Baker had adopted as his HQ. It was strange to see streets free of debris and burnt cars. As we approached the big house the cottages increasingly showed signs of occupation; the gardens were well tended, the curtains neatly draped. One thing about the new reality was that everyone who was still alive, no matter what they did before The Cull, got to live in the very best houses in the
