“I find the idea astounding, The Captain.”
“You would be my lieutenant. The duties would challenge your evident versatility and intelligence.”
Lawrence could not force his mind to react sensibly to the offer. Tricky Fingers had lost seventeen years of life to the Value System. Lawrence was being offered escape after six weeks?
“It is not a decision lightly taken,” The Captain said. “Once you swear the oath of the ultramarines, the door shuts behind you. That makes it a solemn undertaking.”
“I need time to think.”
“You have one week. This time next Sunday, we will meet again.”
That night, Lawrence lay in the darkness. The same conversation was going around and around in his head. It was not so incredible that the ultramarines recruited value. Someone rescued from their doom in the Value System would do anything to avoid being dropped back into it. Indeed, they could not be dropped back in it. The only way to disappear from the Value System was to feign escape. Presumably The Captain then arranged a mutilated cadaver from Goods Inwards to be shown at parade. The recruit thus joined the Dead Undead Nameless Gone and became totally at the mercy of his new benefactor. That was what cautioned Lawrence; if he accepted, it was certain his ‘duties’ would be gruesome, perhaps even by the standards of the Value System itself. If that was possible.
Anything was possible.
Chapter 11
On the following Tuesday morning, Gang 4 served a shift in the Separation Shop. Lawrence sweated through this most revolting of all shift duties, working with Spiderman and Mirror-Face on the opposite side of the room from Tricky Fingers and his cronies. As usual, there were no ultramarines about. Tricky Fingers kept well over to his side of the room.
After the news of the attack went around, there were plenty who shuddered at the thought they might be next. Even the spays were alarmed. Very fortunately, Lawrence’s section boss Ugly Toes was a sitter. He was thoroughly pissed off with Tricky Fingers. Rumour had it he told Tricky Fingers to stick to his own kind, or else have a damned sight worse than a sore face to complain about.
The one good trend of coming winter was that out in the living world, the public drains were emptying. The surplus was lying up for the dark, stormy months to hunger on thin rations for the brighter days of spring. Most barges now arrived empty and left crammed with crates of meats, boots, jackets, handbags, book covers, ties, trousers and anything else that could conceivably be stuffed within the three brands of the Value System: “The Captain’s Table”, “The Captain’s Best” or “Style Captain”. Shifts in the Separation Shop were thankfully uncommon.
As Gang 4 emerged from the Separation Shop, they mixed with Gang 7 flowing out of the Bating Room. Lawrence got the full force of a stare from Pezzini. From a gamer, such a stare would have had amorous intent, however, Pezzini of course was not in the game at all. Lawrence nodded slightly and then ignored him until the gangs were outside. The man appeared distraught and tense. Lawrence wondered if he had been raped. If so, the men who did it would have to be killed.
“Have you got a problem, Big Lil?”
“I require your help.”
“Go on then.”
“I must escape.”
Lawrence took several paces in silence.
“Why?”
“Meet tonight, one thousand seconds after lights out. I will be waiting in the archway to the Tidal Basin.”
To count to one thousand with half an ear cocked for trouble gathering out in the darkness takes concentration. This is especially so when there is constant creaking of floorboards, rustling, soft laughter and clattering of careless feet knocking into chairs and tables on the way to the toilets. His mind kept wandering to young women throwing their skirts up, splaying their legs for him… Where the hell had he got to? 586? Or was it 856? Fuck it. He rolled out of his bunk and bumped into something small and nude that giggled. It was Pig Tit. He shoved the squirt aside and hastened out to the corridor pursued by squeals of outrage. After a certain amount of feeling about, he found Pezzini in the archway. The spay led him out along the path towards the Tidal Basin and then struck off right over a hard, smooth surface. Lawrence recognised this from memory as the top of a concrete dam containing a sluice gate, long ago rusted solid. They pressed on through long grass and branches. Pezzini stopped and pulled Lawrence down to a crouch.
“Aren’t you worried about marsh people?” Lawrence said.
“They will not be out at night.”
“They catch value at night.”
“Actually, I think our hosts do the catching, the marsh people the gory despatching. Savages will not have night-vision systems, whereas our hosts probably do.”
That was an interesting point. Pezzini was obviously more than the abstracted creature of bureaucracy he appeared to be.
“Okay, what’s your news?”
“I need to escape. We must escape together. You understand the glory trusts and I understand the sovereign clans. Our knowledge is complementary and gives us the best chance.”
“You have a plan?” Lawrence could not hide his scepticism.
“We assemble a team—quickly. Ten men armed with knives could achieve a break-out.”
“Uh-huh. Which particular ten had you in mind?”
“I notice you are buddies with Spiderman and Mirror-Face. That makes four of us. I have struck up acquaintanceships with Sicilian and Bradford, both large young men like you—”
“Are they committed?”
Pezzini did not respond.
“Are they committed to escape?”
“As you are my first choice, I ask you before the rest.”
“You had no interest in escape three days ago,” Lawrence said. “What’s changed?”
“Something incredible happened on Sunday. The Captain offered me a position as an ultramarine officer. He wants me on his personal staff.”
Lawrence wrenched his mind around this news. “He made me the same offer on the same day.”
