“I think this might interest you. Please don’t read it now. I’d be grateful to get it back in the morning, thanks.”
Donald put the folded sheet away, conscious of making an easy target silhouetted against the security lights of the headquarters.
“You can stay in my family’s compound,” Kalchelik said, to both Donald and Sarah-Kelly. “We’ve a spare house for visitors.”
“You are a duck, Andrew, actually we’re staying at Theresa’s.”
“The Hutch?”
“It’s cosy.”
“Well, see you in a few hours then,” he said, pulling up his collar and limping off into the darkness. Donald ushered Sarah-Kelly into motion. Arm in arm, they walked across the dark market square. It was far from deserted. They passed people sleeping under wagons and tethered donkeys dozing on their feet. From the market stalls came the sounds of pigs getting pushed about ready for slaughter. Amidst political chaos, life went on.
“What sort of guy is Kalchelik?”
“Dead sound,” Sarah-Kelly said. “I’ve found him to be absolutely straight, even if he comes across as a bit creepy to begin with.”
Sarah-Kelly steered him into a lane and this way and that through a chaotic maze of passages and little squares. After passing the same water pump several times, she found Theresa’s house and managed to draw a response without too much grumbling from the neighbours. The house was larger inside than it appeared on the outside, although it was still little more than a cottage with a brick floor. The beamed ceiling was too low for Donald’s height unless he was careful to stand between beams. The downstairs was a single room, with a ladder providing access through a hatch to ‘upstairs’. Theresa’s eyes goggled wide in open admiration at being introduced to Donald.
“So this is the new man? Very classy—you’ve done well, duck.”
She gave Donald an enormous hug and a mischievous grin. He made a mental note never to be caught alone with her. Whilst Theresa pummelled Sarah-Kelly with questions about how she had spent the weekend—her mischievous eyes flitting to Donald as she probed away—he found a quiet end of the sofa with a candle to read by and opened the sheet Kalchelik had given him.
It was a standard form used to take down witness statements for the Atrocity Commission. It had been written by the witness on his own volition and signed by one Leading Basic Garrington two days previously. This is what the statement said:
“In late October 2104 I left basic training in the Enclave of Manchester with orders to join the Oban garrison, which I did after a voyage from Liverpool in which I suffered from seasickness. I reported to Oban HQ and got told I was assigned to patrol barges. I explained about getting sea-sickness, they said that would pass after a few days at sea and I had to do it. I reported aboard patrol barge Oban-Charlie and I met my new commander Grade Lieutenant First Class Lawrence M. Aldingford, who was most welcoming, he introduced me to the crew and never gave me any reason to suspect nothing. He said he was absolutely confident in my abilities. I found the crew to be welcoming and supportive too and I felt I’d made a good landing. I did ask about interceptions. Everyone said ‘brushes’ as they called them were rare, especially at this time of the year, and they brought the catch back to town to be shipped out to Glasgow.
“We were at sea just over a week. The weather was good, I had no problems with sea-sickness. I got some practice with the brass-muncher four-barrelled gun (properly called ‘Marine Quadruple Mount No. 3’) firing at driftwood. The marine version has a levelling system to make it easier to fire from a rolling ship. It’s a bit complicated, so I got some training in how to maintain it. The days passed very pleasantly I must say.
“On Day 8 my life changed forever. The lookout spotted a raft. It took us a while to tack to it as it was upwind from us. I got to borrow some binoculars so I could see it was made of logs dug out and fixed together with beams in a triangle shape. It must have taken a bit of effort to make. I estimated there were two dozen on it, mostly females and kids, I only saw four men. Aldingford came up to me and said he wanted me in the brass-muncher—it was an order really. He said it very nicely as if he was asking a favour, so I got in the turret and set all the guns. We were not quite close enough to make out faces when he told me to open fire. Quietly and matter of fact. I didn’t believe my ears, so I did nothing. Then the coxswain spoke me really rough, telling me if I didn’t fire I’d be hanged for murder back in Oban. The crew was closing in on me, it was terrifying. I really believed they would kill me if I didn’t do it, so I did it. I opened fire on those poor helpless people and I’m never going to be able to forgive myself as long as I live. It’s ruined my life. I wish I’d died out there instead. It would have been a man’s death at least.
“After that the crew were really matey again, getting me drunk at a party they held for me, three cheers and bottoms up and all that. I decided to play along with it, all the while praying we didn’t have any more brushes, because I couldn’t have stood it. Fortunately we got back and that night I stowed away on a ship. I won’t say nothing about
