Part 11 (1/2)

'I c..c.. can't stop sh...shaking,' whispered Lek.

'It's shock.'

'N.. no. It's the dr..drugs. Reacting with m..my adrenaline.'

'Just lie down for a moment,' Crystal said.

'No time,' said Lek, and with one hand on Crystal's shoulder and the other on the wall, he forced himself into a standing position and together they hobbled back through the courtyards.

Chapter 30.

In the smoke filled air of Battersea, in the middle of a wild pack-clash, it seemed as though the smell of Roma Bruce suddenly blossomed in the night air like the aroma of wild jasmine in Harlesden, and her pack looked at one another, bewildered by the bizarre phenomenon. Only Dahlia Ortega understood its true meaning, and she led the pack back around the Queen's Circus, dodging the missiles and avoiding the skirmishes, through the side streets of Battersea without questioning herself. Their pace slowed and the trail led them to a brick wall outside a housing estate. One by one, they leapt up and over the razor wire and dropped gracefully into the alley below.

While the Twins cowered in the corner of the alley, unsure of what to say or where to look, Zevon ran to be at Roma's side and was the first to touch her. Blood had pooled behind her head. 'Don't speak Roma. We'll get a doctor. We'll get you to a hospital. I don't know. Just, just stay with me.' He had known her demise was inevitable, having already outlived the average lifespan of a pack leader, and even though he had begun to resent her control over him, in all aspects of his life, he was still crushed. Here she was, his childhood friend, the wolf he had served under for six years a stealing, mugging and even killing at her command. To see her fallen made him question his own mortality. He felt like a part of himself was dying with her and his eyes flooded with tears. He stared down at her battered face and asked through choking sobs, 'Who did this to you?'

Before she could even try to answer, Dahlia told Zevon to step away.

She knelt down and turned her cold eyes on Roma. Her voice was like ice. 'Roma. I cannot challenge you now, but know that your actions tonight have brought disgrace on the name of the Brixton Wolves.'

'How... dare... you?' whispered Roma, but all the venom of her voice had already died, and she sounded beaten.

'The boy you killed was an innocent. A no-mark. You broke the agreement of the prelim and now you've started a war. It will take a strong leader to right your wrongs.'

'Zevon,' croaked Roma.

'No, you have forfeited the right to choose your successor. Besides, I paid for Zevon's life in drugs and now I own him. Zevon will not replace you. I am the leader of the pack. I am Alpha.'

Roma's eyes narrowed slightly, and she bared her twisted fangs at her lieutenant's insolence, but Dahlia only stood up, rolled the muscles at the base of her neck and placed her foot on Roma's windpipe. She took a long look into the eyes of the three males before pressing down with her full weight.

'The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen.'

What had changed? Everything and nothing. Arid Bomani was still fifteen; still the son of a s.h.i.+pping merchant and a school inspector; still a schoolboy himself. In the morning, he would be sitting in a cla.s.sroom. Osaze would not. Where was his body now? In a hospital? Or a mortuary? Arid didn't even know how such arrangements were made. His brain struggled to cope with the idea of returning to the life he had known earlier that day, his life before the rumble. And where were his new friends now? Those who had been so keen to share their drugs and to laugh and speak of their war, and the new revolution. Ulan and Fogo? Yakuba? Gone. Back into their holes. In a daze, Arid placed one foot in front of the other and walked around the Queen's Circus, until his emotions got the better of him and he broke down and cried again for the loss of his friend. Arid Bomani was a good boy.

Queen's Circus was deserted. The chilling silence was fractured by the sound of a siren to the east. The only evidence of the all-out war which had been raging not fifteen minutes earlier was the smouldering recyclo-bins, smashed gla.s.s and burnt out Credibus shelters. All the bodies had been removed, either carried off by the gangs themselves, or taken away by the authorities who had appeared as if by magic when the violence ended and the cease-fire was called. The only figure still on the scene as Lek and Crystal made their way over the roundabout was a young black kid, sitting on the kerb with his head in his hands.

'We're not going to make it,' Crystal said despondently.

'We have to,' Lek snapped, 'we've come too far to give up now. We've got seventeen minutes to make it to Victoria before that Smarte Locker opens.'

'Forget the money Lek. I'm thinking about the train.'

'Forget the money? Are you kidding? That's our ticket out of here.'

'A hundred grand? How long do you think we can survive on that?'

'It's enough to keep us under the radar while we make our escape. Besides, Pechev controls all my money. I just used to send him the bills.'

'He really did have you in his pocket,' Crystal said with a touch of animosity.

'And I suppose your lap-dancing for Calabas paid well?'

Crystal lowered her eyes and said nothing.

'I'm sorry,' said Lek, 'that was a cheap shot.'

'I worked hard Lek. And I never complained. Even though I hated every single minute of my life in that s.h.i.+thole, did you ever hear me complain?'

'I'm sorry. I was out of order. I suppose I'm just feeling a bit... grizzly.'

Crystal tried not to smile, but she couldn't help herself. 'You're an idiot,' she laughed, but Lek's mood had darkened once again. 'What's wrong?'

'That girl in the alley. Do you think I...? Was she...?'

'Listen, it was either her or us - she was going to kill us. Pure and simple. You did what you had to do and baby, I for one am glad. You can't think about it now. Come on, let's just get there.'

Lek ignored the pain in his leg and managed to maintain a steady pace through Battersea. The flags.h.i.+p Dynagym, which had once been a power-plant before the turn of the Millennium, shone like a lighthouse in the darkness, as gym-junkies worked through their share of the nation's energy debt, with digi-boxing mitts clocking each of their jabs and dyna-rowers monitoring their every stroke. Lek looked at the palm trees planted in each of the four chimneys and gave a hollow laugh. How long could the UK survive like this? Hiding behind this facade of success? On the surface, everything seemed to be working well, the population was thriving, the engine was still ticking over; but scratch beneath that surface and you saw a Government which was at best inept, their public services failing to meet the low standards which they had set themselves. The United Kingdom had become a rusting infrastructure which could not cope with its own heaving ma.s.ses, the violence on the streets, the drugs...

'Whatever happens,' said Lek, 'we have to catch that train.'

They hurried over Chelsea Bridge, while a coal-barge slipped silently through the slick green waters beneath them. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from their shoulders when they reached the other side. The nightmare of the full moon rumble was behind them, but Lek was suffering badly with the pain in his leg and the debilitating effects of the come-down from his own drugs. He leant against a wall and vomited weakly. Crystal had never seen him in this state and she began to have her doubts about his chances of making it to the station at all.

'I'll be fine,' said Lek, sensing her tension, 'I just needed a moment.' And he staggered to the nearest water fountain and drank deeply. 'Let's keep moving.'

He had lost a lot of blood and was deathly pale. 'We're nearly there. We've only got to get along this street and we're there. Victoria's five minutes away, max.'

'Let's nab a taxi? Or a rickshaw?'

'I doubt anybody's going to... pick me up... in this state.' Lek was slurring his words. Suddenly, Crystal lost her grip on his waist as he slipped away from her and swayed precariously towards the kerb. She screamed his name and tried to grab on to his wrist, but his weight pulled him away from her and he fell like a drunkard into the path of an oncoming car. Lek whirled around trying to maintain his balance, but he could tell neither up nor down and could hear Crystal calling his name from the bottom of a well. The car screeched to a halt on Buckingham Palace Road and the driver leaned on his horn as Lek spun one-hundred and eighty degrees once more and rested his hands on the bonnet. The driver, a short Asiano wearing a lot of jewellery, jumped out and began swearing furiously in his own language. As Lek raised his hands and stepped away from the car, the driver noticed his injuries in the light from the headlamps and switched to English.

'Ringo Starr, brother! What happened to you? I didn't do that to you, did I?' he looked around and shouted louder, 'I didn't do that to you!'

'No, no,' said Lek. 'It's ok. Me and my lady were attacked on the other side of the bridge.'

'Man, you've got to get to a hospital or something.'

'Actually, we're just trying to make it to the police station in Victoria. We want to report it first. Do you think you could help us out?'

's.h.i.+t man, course I can!' said the driver with visible relief, 'just don't bleed on my seats.'

He helped Lek into the back, and even ran around the other side to hold the door open for Crystal, while behind him, a string of cars blared their horns at the delay.