11: Bethnal Green
On a bench in Bethnal Green Garden, Hannah nervously tapped at her Optik as she waited. Bagley had given her a location and a time, but nothing else. Sarah was due at the police station at any moment. She wanted to make her entrance before Faulkner and his bully-boys arrived, no doubt followed by every news drone in the borough. Winston Natha was due to visit later, in a show of solidarity, but it wasn’t his constituency. Arranging it all took time and patience, things Hannah had little of at the moment.
She felt somewhat guilty about the whole thing. When she’d made the suggestion to visit the station, Sarah had jumped at it without needing to be convinced. Hannah knew she was still smarting from her meeting with Nigel Cass, and angry about Holden’s attempt to bug the office. It wasn’t manipulation, exactly – Sarah was too smart for that – but it still made her uneasy. It could all blow up in their faces if they weren’t careful. Not just hers and Sarah’s, but DedSec’s as well.
Then, maybe it was only a matter of time. DedSec was changing and Hannah wasn’t sure she liked what it was becoming. Pacifist activism, like propaganda bombs and jamming television signals was giving way to a more revolutionary philosophy. The Resistance wasn’t just a catchy name anymore. It was a mantra. An ethos.
She looked up, and saw news drones gathering – GBB, ITV, EBN, the whole alphabet. Ready to zip down and follow the drama as it unfolded, delivering it in state-approved bite-sized chunks to the people at home, sitting placidly in front of their telly.
Maybe that was why DedSec was changing. As things got worse, the populace became resigned, and resignation soon turned to complacency. How do you fight a system that controls every aspect of your life? The short answer was – you didn’t. Not unless you could imagine a different sort of life. A better life. Most people couldn’t afford to let themselves think past the next pay-slip.
There was no easy answer. Hannah knew that all too well. Her own life had been one hard decision after the next. Agreeing to work for Sarah had been one such. The only way to change the machine was from inside. Sarah claimed to believe the same herself. And maybe she did…in her own way.
Her thoughts turned to Albion, and Holden’s visit. She hadn’t been able to dig up much on him that they didn’t already know. He was middle management – a technician by training, with an interest in drone technology. By rights, he should have been in a lab somewhere, and not roaming around threatening people.
With Bagley’s assistance, she’d managed to turn up a few older CCTV images of him going in and out of pubs and betting shops. More so the latter than former. Holden seemed to have a gambling problem, which was interesting. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but it was interesting.
Her Optik chimed, and she pushed the thought aside for later. It was synching with two others, as their owners approached. Another DedSec outlaw app, allowing members of the Resistance to identify each other. She turned. One was Soames, the courier from the previous day. The other–
“Where’s Krish?” she asked, as Soames and the woman approached. On her display, the woman’s face was scrambled, off-centre, as if there was a glitch in the program, centred right on her features. It was only as she dismissed the display that she could see her clearly. She didn’t recognize her, and her facial recognition app wasn’t bringing anything up. Whoever she was, she was a blank slate. “And who are you?”
“Call me Liz,” the older woman said.
Hannah studied her for a moment, and then nodded. In a way, she was glad. She’d known Krish a long time, before DedSec even, and she doubted he could manage something like this. Krish wasn’t criminally inclined. Her eyes flicked to Soames. Olly, she recalled. Liz and Olly. “I don’t want to know why you need to get inside. I just want your promise it’s not going to come back on us.”
“Worried about your career?” Liz asked.
“My life. Albion is sniffing around Sarah, and me.”
Liz raised an eyebrow. “You think they know about your connection to us?”
Hannah looked away. “I don’t know what to think. I know I don’t like it. Something is going on, something big.”
“The sooner we find out what, the better for everyone,” Liz said. “Especially you and your boss. Speaking of which, where is she?”
“Waiting for the right moment.” Hannah reached into her pocket and produced a set of plastic badges. “We’ve alerted the major media outlets, as well a number of local news-sites – a few bloggers, one or two podcasters. That should make for plenty of signal noise. These are press passes. Keep them close, ditch them when you’re done.” She handed them over. “I’ve told Sarah you’re from one of the digital dailies, looking to write a piece on Albion’s prospects in Tower Hamlets. She agreed to let you follow us, so you’re covered as far as getting in. After that, it’s up to you.”
“No worries,” Liz said. “Thank you.”
“Thank me by not getting caught.” Hannah looked at Olly. “Or getting me shot.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Olly protested. Liz silenced him with a look.
“We’ll do our best,” she said.
Hannah sighed. “Come on. The police station is just the other side of the garden.”
Sarah was directing traffic when Hannah finally arrived, two journalists in tow. Sarah gave them a cursory glance. “A bit scruffy,” she murmured to her PA. Drones hovered around the area, and flesh and blood press as well. Stage managing it all took a bit of doing – she wanted them to get shots of her entering the station ahead of Albion, and mingling with the hardworking
