Black Moon Page 9

  “Yeah, I suppose,” I said.

  Finally we reached a ladder ten feet below street level. We climbed upwards, Mac ahead of me. He paused at the top and murmured the code word. I heard a faint reply.

  “It’s okay,” he said over his shoulder, and I relaxed a little.

  We emerged in the basement of the abandoned building in Hell’s Kitchen. Dwight sat waiting, his arms wrapped anxiously around his knees. “Coast is clear,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “I’ve got all the equipment.”

  “Good work, pal – thanks,” Mac said, stripping off his jacket.

  I quickly did the same. It was September, still hot as summer. Up on the third floor, it would be stifling. Underneath I wore a light sleeveless dress.

  Dwight stuck his hands in his denims pockets, arms stiff. “Hey, Amity, hear the one about the Resistance worker who spent all her time in the tunnels?”

  I glanced warily at him. “No, what?”

  “Her friends thought she might be a mole.”

  I made a face, then snorted despite myself. “That’s terrible, even for you.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  Mac was busy checking the equipment. He slung the pouch over his shoulder. “All right, come on.”

  The three of us went up to the ground floor. The building was gloomy in the twilight. Graffiti covered its inside walls – including a large, scrawled “V” that had appeared a few weeks ago. As always, my gaze snagged hopefully on it.

  “Keep watch, okay, buddy?” said Mac to Dwight, who nodded and posted himself near the dilapidated front door. From a bar across the road, faint neon light blinked on and off against his tense, young-looking face.

  One more week, I told myself. If we were lucky, that was all any of us had to stay safe for now.

  Ten minutes later Mac and I were on the top floor. I rubbed my hands on my skirt and glanced at my watch. At exactly seven o’clock, I leaned forward.

  “This is Amity Vancour, the voice of the Resistance,” I said into the microphone. “The press calls me Wildcat.”

  As always, I told people to hope – to know that we were here – to have faith that fear of Pierce hadn’t killed everything good. Mac stood propped against the wall, smoking a cigarette, listening intently.

  My eyes met his as I said, “Remember, we’ll take real action at some point. When we do, fight with us.”

  They were no longer empty words. With Collie’s help, we had a plan in place now, centring around the new meeting room in the palace basement. On September 17th there’d be a status meeting. Kay Pierce and her advisors would be in there with Sandford Cain.

  I knew Mac would have preferred to wait. The “V” on the wall downstairs still didn’t have enough company; the number of them we saw didn’t make us totally confident. But Collie said this meeting was the only one he could arrange.

  Now or never.

  Mac glanced at his watch and held up two fingers. I spoke more quickly: “Meanwhile, if you feel able, attempt small acts of sabotage. Don’t hurt the Guns – you know how harshly Pierce retaliates for that. But maybe there are phone cords that can be cut, or auto tyres that can be—”

  I broke off as a rhythmic shouting came from outside. Mac hastily stubbed out his cigarette and went to the window. I licked suddenly-cold lips and went on, glancing back at him:

  “…auto tyres that can be deflated. Anything you can do to make the Guns’ lives uncomfortable is useful – make them realize that we’re awake, not cowed; that we’re ready to fight.”

  Mac came over and scrawled a note: Something happening next street over. Keep going. I’ll check with Dwight.

  I nodded, but before Mac could move, footsteps came banging up the stairs. Dwight appeared, breathing hard.

  “The Guns figured out which area we’re broadcasting from!” he gasped. “They’ve got a huge group of Harmony Helpers – hundreds of them, searching houses all up and down the street at once!”

  Mac swore. “The cubbyhole under the stairs,” he told Dwight. “Go, go!”

  Dwight pounded down the staircase. Three floors below, I heard faint thunder: a troop of Helpers rushing in.

  My pulse beat through my brain. My gaze flew to Mac’s.

  Muffled shouts: “Find the Discordant scum! Find the Vancour bitch!”

  In a daze I turned back to the mic. Somehow my voice stayed steady as I murmured, “The Guns have found us. We may be about to be captured. If we are, keep fighting. V for Victory.”

  The second I finished, Mac jerked the cord from the back of the wireless set. He fed it quickly out onto the darkness of the fire escape and then closed the window.

  My lungs felt too tight to breathe. I rose slowly, gripping the table as images of Harmony Five assaulted me. The clamour from below grew louder. They’d reached the first floor now.

  A trio of cabinets were set into one wall. Mac flung open the bottom one and slid out a shelf.

  “Inside,” he whispered. “There’s a hiding place.”

  “It’s no use, Mac.”

  “Get in!” He grabbed up the wireless set, shoved it at me with the mic.

  I swallowed hard, clutching them. “What…what about you?”

  He motioned up at the smallest of the cabinets. “I’ll take that one. Hurry, kiddo!” He pushed me towards the opening.

  Shaking, I crawled inside. Mac Jones didn’t use any location unless he’d first made it as safe as he could. He’d hacked a hiding space at the back of the cabinet months ago.

  I crouched in it, deep in the musty, cobwebbed space between the wall joists, hugging the still-warm wireless set. The square of light showing the empty room split in two as Mac slid the shelf back in place, then vanished as he closed the cabinet door.

  Darkness. I heard Mac heft himself up into the smallest cabinet. All at once the shouts were very close, coming from the next room.

  “Anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Keep looking! Find the bitch!”

  I pressed against the joist, sickly conscious that there was only a thin layer of wood and plaster between us. The door to our own room banged open.

  “Hey! Smell that?”

  “Cigarette smoke! Shit, someone’s been in here!”

  “Get the window!”

  The antenna. I bit my lip to hold back a whimper. The sliding rush of the window, the clanging of feet on metal.

  The vision came vividly: a grimy cabin in the Yukon where Ingo and I had crouched, trembling, holding weapons to each other’s throats as Guns battered at the door.

  Ingo. Pain winced through me. Please, no, I couldn’t die without seeing him again – things had been so strange between us—

  My cupboard door swung open. I was shuddering so hard I was sure they’d hear. I squeezed my eyes shut, cringing my head away. When the door banged closed again, I knew it was a trick and didn’t move.

  “Just shelves. What about that one?”

  A muffled yell came from outside the room – was repeated up the stairs.

  “The tunnels!”

  “There’s an entrance to the tunnels in the basement!”

  “Quick, before they get away!”

  Shouts, thumps. Clanging footsteps scrambled back up the fire escape. Someone banged against the table and swore. From through the wall I heard people racing from the other room too, so that I was caught between the tumult.

  The noise faded away down the staircase. Slowly, silence descended.

  I didn’t trust it. As my heart hammered in the darkness I counted the seconds: three minutes, five, nine. I stayed huddled against the joist, not daring to stir.

  When a rustle finally came from above, I gasped. I’d almost forgotten about Mac.

  I heard him drop to the floor. As he opened the cupboard door I went limp. It must be safe now – Mac’s judgement was infallible.

  The rumour that I was the one in charge of the Resistance was laughable.

  “You all right?” Mac asked softly.

&nbs
p; He half-crawled into the cupboard to help me out. My muscles were stiff. As I emerged into the shadowy room I staggered.

  “Fine,” I got out. I rested the wireless set on the table.

  Mac touched my arm and started to say something. We both tensed at the sound of a hesitant tread. As Mac lunged for the door, Dwight appeared, hugging himself.

  Mac let out a breath and gripped his shoulder. “Glad you’re okay, buddy.”

  Dwight looked close to throwing up. “Yeah, but, Mac… they’re down in the tunnels. That was our only entrance in this sector.”

  The tunnels. My chest clenched as it hit me – Ingo was still somewhere in the upper levels. He’d left with his last group just this evening.

  Mac shoved a hand through his unruly brown hair. “All right, we’ll have to risk the checkpoint,” he said finally. “Meanwhile, let’s hope they don’t explore too deeply over by the Park Line, or we’re screwed.”

  The old Park Line went under Kay Pierce’s palace. It was where everything would be happening next week.

  I turned abruptly away and slid the wireless set into its pouch, which had rested unnoticed in a shadowy corner. Dwight watched the stairs as Mac went and snagged the antenna off its hidden ledge.

  Our attack had to be successful. It had to be. I buckled the pouch with short, angry motions and cleared my throat.

  “A point for future reference,” I said to Mac.

  He glanced up. “What’s that?”

  “You might want to stop smoking, pal.”

  He gave a humourless laugh. “Oh, man, you ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie. Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mac and I sat squashed together behind some boxes in Dwight’s van. As we slowed for the Gemini checkpoint, Dwight muttered back to us, “Okay, I know these guys. Fingers crossed.”

  “If you’re caught, we hijacked you,” said Mac shortly.

  I almost felt too drained to be frightened. I heard Dwight roll down the window. Voices.

  “Evening, Dwight. ID, please…thanks. What are you carrying back there?”

  “Some goods for my uncle’s shop.”

  I licked my lips. Dwight wasn’t a natural actor like Mac and Collie. He sounded strained – falsely casual.

  “What kind of goods?” From the Gun’s tone, I could practically see him craning to peer in the back. I sat motionless, glad of Mac’s solid warmth beside me.

  “Just…canned goods from Taurus sector, mostly. Listen, um…I need to report something,” Dwight said. “Can I give it to you, sir?”

  Interest flared through the Gun’s voice. “Sure, what is it?”

  Dwight went into a long story about Wildcat’s broadcast and how he’d heard a wireless set back on Bronson Street illegally tuning into it. “I’m not sure which house, sir. But I definitely heard it.”

  “All right, thanks. We’ll check into it.” A snort. “I wish you were telling us you’d seen Wildcat herself.”

  Dwight gave a strangled cough. “Yes, I – that would be – holy moley, sir, I’d come straight to you.”

  Mac tensed as apprehension spiked through me. But the Gun didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “Fine. Get on home, now.”

  The van started moving. I slumped against a box as the neon lights of the city began flashing past again.

  Mac exhaled. “And so we live to fight another day,” he murmured. “We won’t need too many more, with luck. Thanks, buddy,” he said, raising his voice to Dwight. “You did fine.”

  A few minutes later we pulled up to the back of the deli. Dwight swung open the van’s rear doors. As Mac and I climbed out he caught my eye and managed a queasy grin.

  “Hey, Amity…what did one Resistance worker say to the other?”

  I shook my head.

  “‘Ever think of getting into a safer line of business?’”

  I smiled faintly. “Not much of a punchline.”

  “Not much of a business. Ba-dum-tish.” He hunched a shoulder. “Night, doll-face. See you tomorrow.”

  Sephy and Hal had heard my hastily-ended broadcast, punctuated by the dim shouts of Guns. Back in the shabby apartment, Sephy flung herself into Mac’s arms with a cry.

  “I thought that was it, damn you,” she choked out.

  Mac stroked her back. “We’re fine,” he murmured against her neck. “We’re fine.”

  I sank onto the sofa, massaging my aching thigh. Hal glanced at me, his face tight.

  “So what happened?” he asked.

  I sighed, wishing I could shield him. But we had enough secrets from my little brother already.

  “They almost got us,” I said.

  Mac looked resigned. “Yeah,” he said at last. “We were broadcasting, and then we heard a noise down in the street…”

  There was coffee in the percolator. I went and poured myself a cup. As Mac described the Harmony Helpers breaking in, I stirred it slowly, keeping my back to them, shaken by how much I’d longed for Ingo in that moment. It would be almost a week now before we knew whether he was safe.

  He wouldn’t be lucky enough to be shot if he’d been caught.

  When Mac finished, a short silence fell.

  “Are you okay?” Hal asked finally, sounding stricken.

  “Fine.” I turned and cleared my throat. “So…what time did Ingo leave?”

  Sephy’s face was ashen. She tried to smile. “A little bit after you and Mac did. I’m sure he’s all right.”

  From her expression, she wasn’t sure at all. She knew as well as I did that the route he’d have taken wasn’t far from where the Helpers had penetrated. I tried not to think about it.

  Mac got coffee too and we moved to the table. It was covered with birth charts. Sephy cleared her throat as she moved her ephemeris. “So the second I agree to marry you, you scare me to death, is that it?” she said to Mac. “I may have to rethink this, mister.”

  Mac squeezed her hand, where a tiny diamond glinted. “Too late, you accepted the ring.”

  Sephy had finally said yes to him the month before. He’d asked her when we were all playing cards one night, and she’d jokingly complained about losing. “Hey, I’ll let you win if you marry me,” Mac had said.

  “Okay,” Sephy had replied, still studying her cards.

  Hal’s and my heads had jerked up. We’d stared at her and then each other. Mac had sat there looking stunned.

  “You…really?” he said.

  And then she’d smiled at him.

  They hadn’t finished the game. They’d disappeared into their bedroom for the rest of the night.

  The memory flitted past. “Damn, thought I’d found a loophole,” said Sephy.

  Suddenly her eyes flew to the clock: a quarter to nine. She winced.

  “Mac, I forgot – Jimmy was in touch. He needs to see you. Nine thirty, the usual place.”

  My fingers tightened around the coffee mug. Jimmy was our explosives person.

  The term “poker face” had been invented for Mac. Only mild consternation crossed his features as he looked up. “Yeah? Guess I’d better hurry then.”

  “Will you go by the streets?” Sephy asked in a low voice.

  “It’s faster than the tunnels. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” Mac glanced at Sephy’s workload as he rose; I knew several of the charts were urgent, if the people were to be saved from Pierce before our attack.

  “Amity, would you catch our glorious leader’s speech and make sure everything’s okay?” he said.

  I stiffened, thinking of what I might have to do. No. Please. Not tonight. “Sure,” I said, forcing a small smile.

  Hal knew by now that Collie called for meetings through Pierce’s speeches. He looked quickly at Mac. “I could go,” he said. “I know the way, if the code to meet comes through.” It still startled me slightly, how deep his voice was now.

  Mac pulled on his fedora. “Thanks, pal, but your sister had better handle it.”

  Hal nodded reluctantly. Afte
r Mac left, he snapped on the telio. Dance music played softly. On the round screen, Kay Pierce was signing a new law in the capitol building, giggling and pursing her lips at the camera. Collie stood behind her, squeezing her shoulder. He whispered something in her ear and she laughed.

  Hal’s eyes turned troubled as he watched. He’d seen Collie a few times since we’d come here – brief meetings set up by Mac in the tunnels – though not for a while now. And I could guess what he was thinking.

  It was becoming impossible not to wonder exactly what was going on between Collie and Kay Pierce. The rumour was that they were lovers. I wished I found it harder to believe. Yet Mac trusted him regardless.

  “You’ve only really known Mac as a Resistance worker,” Sephy had told me once. “But he was a double agent for years – he’s been in similar situations. Even if Collis is sleeping with that woman…” She’d shrugged. “His loyalty’s with us.”

  I hoped they were right.

  “Oh, man, why can’t we actually do something?” Hal muttered now, lightly punching his palm. “When’s Collie going to come through with a plan?”

  “I…guess he’s working on it,” I said.

  Sephy’s gaze flitted to mine. We’d tell Hal about the attack just before it happened, for his own safety – but not until then. Mac was adamant, and we all agreed.

  At nine o’clock, the Harmony symbol appeared. After the singers’ introduction faded, Pierce’s voice said: “Good evening, Can-Amer. I’d like to talk tonight about destiny…”

  My nails bit my palms as she went on. Would she mention it if Ingo’s group had been caught? Surely she would, I tried to tell myself. She wouldn’t be able to resist.

  But sometimes she didn’t announce arrests until the captives had been broken.

  She didn’t mention Ingo. None of the codes came, either. “Good,” murmured Sephy when the broadcast ended.

  As Hal listlessly pulled a chart towards him, I exhaled. At least I didn’t have to go meet Collie and be reminded how bad my judgement had once been.

  Since that night on the roof, Ingo and I had barely spent any time together. It was on purpose from my end, and I supposed from his, as well. When we did encounter each other, things seemed just the same. We smiled, even joked around a little.