To the Stars Trilogy Part 8

"Lifts not working. Usual thing," Fryer said as they followed their guide up the steps. Up five filthy flights, the walls daubed all the way with graffiti. Warm enough though, as it should be with unlimited electric power. The door was locked but the man had a key. They followed him into a single warm, brightly lit room that smelled of death.

"She don't look good, do she?" he said, gesturing toward the woman on the bed.

She was pale as parchment, her skin lighter than the stained covers of the bed. One clawlike hand held them clutched under her chin and her unconscious breathing was slow, scratchy.

"You can talk if you want," Fryer said. 'All friends here."

"She's ill?" Jan said.

"Ill to death, your honor," the toothless man said. "Saw doctor in the autumn, got some medicine, nothing since."

"She should be in hospital."

"Hospital only for dying on the dole."

'A doctor then."

"Can't go to him. Won't come here without no m9ney."

"But there must be funds available from... our people"

"There are," Fryer said. "More than enough to at least help our mates. We don't dare, gov. Go on her record, the Security will want to know where did she get the crumble on the dole, investigation, find out who her friends are. Do more harm than good. So we don't do it."

"S(>she just dies?"

"We all die sooner or later. Just sooner on the dole. Let's go get some scoff."

They did not say good-bye to the toothless man who had drawn up a chair and was sitting next to the bed. Jan looked at the box of a room, the decrepit furniture, the sanitary fittings on the wall, barely concealed by a battered screen. A prison cell would be better.

"He'll be with us after a bit," Fryer said. "Wants to sit awhile with his mam.

"The woman~his mother?"

"Indeed. Happens to all of us."

They descended to the bas.e.m.e.nt, to a communal dining room. The dole obviously did not extend to the luxury of private cooking. People of all ages were sitting at the rough tables, eating, or queuing at the steaming counter.

"Pit this in the slot when you take your tray," Fryer said, handing Jan a red plastic token.

The tray did not come free in his hand until the token dropped. Jan shuffled behind Fryer, accepting the brim-ming bowl thrust at him by the perspiring kitchen a.s.sis-tant. Further on there was a great mound of chunks of dark bread and he took one. This was dinner. They seated themselves at a table bare of any condiments or tableware.

"How do I eat it?" Jan asked, looking dubiously at his bowl.

"With a spoon you always carries-but I've an extra knowing you're new at this."

It was a lentil stew with vegetable bits floating in it. Not bad tasting, devoid of any real flavor of anything.

There were lumps in it that looked like meat, but certainly didn't taste like it.

"Got some salt in my pocket if you want, Fryer volunteered.

"No thanks. I doubt if it would make any difference." He ate some bread which, though half stale, had a sound, nutty flavor. "No meat in the meal?"

"No. Never on the dole. There's chunks of soy immo here, all the protein you need they say. Water at the fountain over there if you want to wash it down."

'Afterward. Is the food always like this?"

"More or less. People earn a bit Qf money they buy bits of things in the shops. If you've no crumble then this is it. You can live on it."

"I suppose that you could. But I don't really see it as an inspiring regular diet." He shut up as a man came in, shambled over, and sat at their table.

"Bit of trouble, Fryer," he said, looking at Jan while he did.

They stood and moved against the wall to talk. Jan ate another spoonful then pushed the bowl away from him. A lifetime eating this? Nine out of ten workers were on the dole. Not to mention their wives and children. And this had been going on around him for all of his life-and he had not been aware. He had lived his life on an iceberg, unaware of the buried nine-tenths beneath the surface.

"We're going back to the car, gov," Fryer said. "Some-thing's come up.

'Anything to do with me?"

"Don't know. Word just pa.s.sed for us to get there as soon as we could. No idea of what, except it's trouble. Plenty of it."

They walked hard. Not running, that would draw at-tention, but solidly and steadily through the clutching snow. Jan had glimpses of lit shops with their displays hidden behind steamy windows. He wondered what they sold, and realized they were as alien to his experience as the shops in the market he had visited on the sh.o.r.e of the Red Sea.

At the rear of the garage once again, Jan held the flashlight so that Fryer could find the right key in its dim light. They went into the shed and on into the garage itself.

"I'll be winged!" Fryer said, flashing the light across the barren floor.

"My car is gone!"

A far brighter torch flashed in their eyes and some-one said, "Just stand right there and don't move.

Watch where you put your hands."

Eleven.

Jan had no thought of moving, could not have moved if he had wanted to. The shock of all this, first his car gone, then the sudden confrontation. The game was up, he was caught, it was all over. He stood, frozen with the dreadful realization.

"Back to the shed, Fryer," the man said again. "Some-one here you don't know."

Fryer went out docilely enough. and the man with the flashlight followed him; Jan could only make out his outline as he went by. What was happening?

"Jan, I must talk to you," a familiar voice said as soon as the door had closed. The small light was still in his hand and he brought it up and picked Sara's face out of the darkness. "We didn't mean to give you a fright," she said, "but this is an emergency.

"Fright! It was nothing like that. My heart stopped, that was all!"

"I'm sorry," she smiled, but the smile instanfly vanished. "Something very bad has happened and we may need your help. One of our people has been captured and we cannot let him be identified. Have you heard of Slethill Camp?"

"It's a work camp in Sunderland, the far north of Scotland in the Highlands. We are fairly sure that we can get him out of the camp, that is easy enough, but we don't know how to get him out of the area. That is when I thought of you and your saying you go up there for cross-country skiing. Could he ski out of there?"

"He could if he knew the area and knew how to ski. Does he?"

"No, I don't think so. But he's young and fit and could learn. Is it difficult?"

"Very easy to learn the basics. Very bard to be very good. Do you have anyone who could show him what to do Sudden realization struck him and he turned the light back on her face. Her eyes were lowered and she was very pale.

"Yes. I'm going to ask you to help," Sara said. "It bothers me not only for the danger you will be put in, but because we should not even be mentioning this sort of thing to you. If you decide to work with us, yours could be the most important job in the entire resistance. But if this man is not freed it might very well be the end of everything."

"It's that important?"

"It is."

"Then of course I'll help. But I must go home for my equipment-"

Impossible. Everyone thinks that you are in Scotland. We have even had your car driven up there to cover your movements here."

"So that's where it went."

"We can have it left wherever you want in Scotland. Will that help?"

"Tremendously. How do I get there?"

"By train. There's one leaving for Edinburgh in two hours and we can get you on it. You'll go as you are, you won't be noticed that way, and you can bring your other clothes in a bag. Fryer will go with you."

Jan thought swiftly, frowning into the darkness. 'Ar-range it then. Also arrange to meet me yourself in Edinburgh in the morning, in your Cynthia Barton role, and bring some money. At least five hundred pounds in cash. Old notes. Can that be done?"

"Of course. I'll take care of it now. Fryer will be informed of everything. Call to him now, tell him the man with him is to leave with me."

It seemed foolish, that people risking their lives to-gether could not even see each other's faces. But it was simple insurance that if one of them were captured he could not identify the others. They stayed in darkness until Fryer and the unknown man returned, then he and Sara left in silence after a quick muttered conversation with Fryer. Fryer waited until they left before he turned the light on.

"Going for a mystery tour are we," he said. "Nice time of year for a trip." He rooted in the boxes at the end of the garage and produced an ancient army duffle bag. "This will do fine. Just put your clothes in here and we'll be off. A brisk walk should get us to King's Cross just on time.

Once more Fryer showed his superior knowledge of the back streets of London. Only twice were they forced to cross any of the brilliantly lit avenues. Each time Fryer scouted ahead first to make sure they would not be ob-served, before he led Jan to the security of the darkness on the other side. They reached King's Cross station with forty-five minutes to spare. The funny thing was that Jan, who had been here countless times before on the way to Scotland, did not recognize it.

They turned off the street into a long tunnel. Despite the fact that it was well illuminated it still had been used as a latrine and the smell of urine was sharp in the air. Their footsteps echoed as they went through it and up the stairs at the other end, into a large waiting room filled with scuffed benches. Most of the occupants seemed to be stretched out and sound asleep, although there were a few sitting up, waiting for their trains. Fryer went to the battered cigarette machine and dug a metal box from his pocket which he put under the dispenser. When the machine was satisfied that he had inserted enough small change, it rattled briefly and disgorged some cigarettes into the box. He handed it to Jan, along with a glow lighter.

"Here. Smoke a bit. Try to look natural. Don't talk to anyone no matter what they say. I'll get the tickets."

The cigarettes were a brand Jan had never heard of before; WOODBINE was printed in blue letters the length of each of them, and they crackled like smoldering straw when lit, and burned his mouth.

There was a slow movement of people in and out of the waiting room, but no one as much as bothered to glance his way. Every few minutes the tannoy speakers would garble out an incomprehensible announcement. Jan grubbed his third cigarette out, feeling slightly bilious, when Fryer came back.

"Right as rain, gov. Off to the land of the Scots, but let's go to the bog first. Do you have a bandana with you?"

"In my pocket, here in the bag."

"Well dig it out now, we're going to need it. People sit close in these trains, nosy parkers, talk like old women. And we don't want you doing any talking."

In the washroom Jan recoiled as Fryer snicked out an immense blade from his pocket knife. "Minor surgery, gov, for your own good. Keep you alive it will. Now if you'lljust peel your lip back I'm going to make a little nick in your gum. You won't feel a thing."

"It hurts like h.e.l.l," Jan said thickly through the white kerchief he pressed to his mouth. He took it away and saw it stained with blood.

"That's the way. Good and red. If it starts to heal up just open it again with your tongue. And spit a bit of blood once in a while. Be convincing. Now here we go. I'll bring the bag, you keep that kerchief in front of your mouth."

There was a separate entrance to the Flying Scotsman platform that Jan had never known existed, admitting them to the rear of the train. Far ahead Jan could see the lights and scurrying porters at the first-cla.s.s section behind the engine, where he always traveled. A private compartment, a drink from the recessed bar if he wanted it, then a good night's sleep to wake up in Glasgow. He knew that there was a second-cla.s.s section because he had seen them boarding, crowding into their mult.i.tiered sleep-ing coaches, waiting patiently in the station in Scotland until the first-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers had disembarked. He had never even suspected that there was a third-cla.s.s section.

The coaches were warm, that was all that could be said for them; there was no bar, no buffet, no services of any kind. The seats were built of wood lathes, constructed for durability only and not for style or comfort. Jan managed to find a window seat so he could lean back in the corner, resting his head on his bundle of clothing. Fryer sat down solidly next to him, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke complacently in the direction of the NO SMOKING sign. Others crowded in and were still seating themselves when the train slid gently into motion.

It was a very uncomfortable journey. Jan's handker-chief was well speckled with blood and he had even managed one carmined expectoration following his com-panion's orders. After that he tried to sleep, difficult under the bright lights that remained on all night. Despite Fryer's fears no one talked to them, or even noticed him after a first interested examination of his bloodstained mouth. The train rumbled on and he did finally fall asleep, waking up with a start at the firm shake on his shoulder.

"Rise and shine, old son," F~ryer said. "Half six of a lovely morning and you can't spend the whole day in bed. Let s get some breakfast."

Jan's mouth tasted terrible and he was sore and stiff from sitting on the slatted bench all night. But the long walk down the platform in the cold air woke him up and the sight of the steamed windows of the buffet made him realize he was hungry, very hungry indeed. Breakfast was simple, but enjoyable and filling. Fryer paid out the coins for their tea and br.i.m.m.i.n.g bowls of porridge and Jan wolfed his down. A man, dressed as they were, put a cup of tea on the table and sat down next to Fryer.

"Eat up, lads, and come wi' me. There's no' much time."

They took the lift out of the station and followed him in silence as he walked briskly through the cold of the dawn fog, into an apartment building not too distant from the station, up endless flights of stairs-were the lifts always in need of repair?-and into a grimy flat that, except for having more rooms, could have been a dupli-cate of the one they had visited in London. Jan stood at the sink and shaved with an ancient razor, trying not to nick himself too badly, then put his own clothes back on. With a feeling of relief, he had to admit. He tried not to consider the thought that if he had been that uncomfort-able in these clothes, in these surroundings, for less than a day-how would a lifetime of it feel? He was tired; it didn't bear considering now. The other two men watched with solid indifference. Fryer held up the boots that he had been working on with dark polish.

"Not too bad, gov. You wouldn't want to go to no dances in them, but they'll do for the street. And I have a message that a certain person will be waiting for you in the lobby of the Caledonian Hotel. If you'll follow our friend here he'll lead you right to it."

'And you?"

"Never ask questions, gov. But I'm for home as soon as I can. Too cold up here in the north." His smile showed a number of blackened teeth; he took Jan's hand. "Good luck."

Jan followed his guide into the street and stayed a good twenty meters behind him as they walked. The sun had burned away the fog and the cold air felt good. As they pa.s.sed the Caledonian Hotel the man shrugged his shoulder, then hurried on. Jan pushed through the re-volving door and saw Sara sitting under a potted palm reading a newspaper. Or appearing to, for before he could walk over she stood and crossed in front of him, apparently without noticing him, and exited through the side entrance. He went after her and found her waiting for him around the corner.

"It's all been arranged," she said. "Everything except the skis. You will be boarding a ~ain at eleven this morning."

"That will be enough time for our shopping. You have the money?" She nodded. "Good, then here is what we will do. I have been thinking about it most of the nightplenty of opportunity for that where I was.

Were you on the train too?"

"Yes, in second cla.s.s. It was bearable."

'All right. We have three shops to go to, the only three sporting goods places in Edinburgh that sell ski equipment. We'll make the purchases between us, using cash so there will be no record of credit card use. They know me here, and I'll say I lost my card on the train and it will be an hour before a new one can be issued, in the meantime I want to buy a few things. I know it works this way because it happened to me a few years ago. They'll take the cash."

"It will work for one, but not for two. I have a card for an account that is solvent, though the person named on the card does not exist."

"That's even better. You'll buy the expensive items like the high density battery and two compa.s.ses I'll need. Do you want me to write down what you should get?"

"No. I have been trained to remember things."

"Good. You mentioned the train. What will I be doing then?"