Young Bond: The Dead - Young Bond: The Dead Part 48
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Young Bond: The Dead Part 48

Figures were emerging from one of the houses. Ed had lost his rifle, but he still had his pistol in its holster. He was just about to slip it loose when he saw that they were only other kids, three unarmed boys and a girl, wrapped in coats, looking cold, sleepy and confused.

'Who are you?' said one of the boys with a yawn. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days. He was tall and thin with sunken cheeks and a bad cough. 'How'd you get in?'

'Who's in charge here?' asked Jordan.

'No one really.' The boy shrugged.

'What about Tomoki?' said the girl.

'Yeah, Tomoki, I suppose.'

'Go and get him.'

'What?'

'Go and get this Tomoki,' said Jordan. 'I want to talk to him.'

'He'll be asleep.'

'Then wake him up.'

'I'll go,' said a younger boy, and he trotted off towards the timber-framed building.

The two groups stood there staring at each other. Ed was shivering and just wanted to go inside and get warm. But Jordan wasn't moving.

'How many of you are there living here?' he asked the boy with the cough.

'Dunno,' he replied. 'Maybe thirty?'

'OK,' was all that Jordan said.

In a minute the small boy returned with an older boy who had long straight black hair and oriental features.

'What's going on?' he said sleepily as he approached. 'Who are you?'

'I am Jordan Hordern. Are you Tomoki?'

'Yeah.' Tomoki stopped and squared up to Jordan.

'And you're in charge in here?'

'I suppose so.'

'No one seems very sure of it.'

'All right, yes,' said Tomoki. 'I am in charge here.'

'Not any more, you're not,' said Jordan.

'What?'

'From now on I'm in charge.'

Tomoki laughed. 'You can't just walk in here, and '

'That's just the point, though, isn't it?' said Jordan.

'What do you mean?'

'We did just walk in here.' Jordan stepped towards Tomoki with such an air of quiet menace that Tomoki fell silent and backed away. He was shorter than Jordan and much less confident.

More kids were emerging from the buildings, curious and sleep-addled. Some were armed, but they held back. They didn't look like they had the stomach for a fight.

'You've got the best site in London,' said Jordan, looking at the White Tower rather than at Tomoki. 'The perfect place to live. A castle. Easy to defend. Full of weapons. And what are you doing? There's no guards posted. The gates weren't even locked. All we had to do was climb a couple of drainpipes and we were in.'

'Yeah, well, mothers and fathers can't climb drainpipes, can they?' Tomoki protested.

Jordan pressed on.

'You don't deserve to be in charge here,' he said. 'And if you don't care about running this place properly, then you shouldn't be worried that I'm taking over.'

Tomoki gave a dismissive shrug and a grunt. He'd been half asleep when he came out, with no idea what was going on. Now he was pulling himself together.

'We outnumber you,' he said evenly. 'So let's not get into an argument, OK? Now, I don't mind you staying here we need all the help we can get, quite frankly. It hasn't been easy for us. But you can't expect to walk in here and take over just like that.'

'I agree,' said Jordan. 'Let's not get into an argument. I don't like arguments.'

'Good.'

'So I'll fight you for it.'

'You want to fight me?' Tomoki sounded incredulous.

'Yes.'

'That's not the way things are decided.'

'It is now,' said Jordan. 'The world's changed. So, come on.'

'No,' said Tomoki, and he backed away as Jordan advanced on him.

'Fight me,' said Jordan.

He kept on coming and Tomoki was stumbling backwards. In the end he put up a hand to Jordan's chest to try to stop him.

Jordan clipped him. The movement was fast and casual at the same time. Tomoki's head jerked to the side and he crumpled to his knees.

Jordan stood over him for a moment then helped him to his feet. Tomoki wobbled on shaking legs, stunned and groggy.

'Nothing personal,' Jordan said quietly, and then he turned to face the ring of kids who had come out to see what was going on.

'If the rest of you want to fight us, that's fine. But you will lose. We've battled our way across town to get here you will not be able to beat us. Tomoki can keep his position here, as your representative, but from now on we all work together and you all do what I say. If anyone doesn't agree with me, come over here and I will talk to you.'

Nobody moved.

Ed felt an uncomfortable mixture of embarrassment and pride. He didn't like Jordan's cold bullying tactics, but he couldn't deny that he was probably the best man for the job, and when it came down to it, Ed, like everyone else, just wanted to get this over with quickly so that he could go and lie down somewhere and fall asleep.

'Good,' said Jordan. 'Then it's decided.'

Ed sighed and closed his eyes.

Safe at last.

81.

The morning sun was bright. Blinding him. He covered his face with his hands. He knew this place. A big open square, a pill, a pillar, big stone pillar in the middle. The statue of a man on the top. The man had a name. He was a hero. Yeah, what was his name? He had one eye and a hat.

Nelson.

Yes. He grinned. He still knew things. He was going to beat the disease. Hadn't he told them? He was going to live. He was going to go home and live a happy life.

Home.

He knew the way to go now. He knew this bit of ... Where was he? What was the name of this place?

Nelson.

Lord Nelson. Not Nelson. Lord Lumsden. London. Lord London. London Town.

As he limped across the square, a mess of birds took flight all around him, swirling up into the sky and confusing him. He flailed at them, cursing and swearing.

They were pigs.

Pigs might fly.

Pigeons too.

The next thing he knew he had one in his hand. He'd caught it mid-air. Like a golfer. A goalie. His grin grew wide. He was king of this place. He should be up on top of that pillar. Lord London! That was him. He squeezed the bird until he could feel its bones crack. Then he stuffed the corpse into the pocket of his jogging pants. He was cold. He'd lost his shirt in a fight over a dead boy. It had been ripped anyway.

The boy done that. Before.

He'd make that boy behave himself.

He'd won the fight, but lost his ... what was the word? He'd had it just now. Save it for later.

Shirt. Yes. His shirt.

Something glittering caught his eye. An overturned stall. It had scarves and hats and ...

Souvenirs.

That was a good word. A hard word to remember. How many people knew that word?

He shouted it.

'Souvenir! Souvenir! Souvenir!'

He came to the stall and rifled through the stuff, throwing aside rubbish and tat and souvenirs.

Tat. Tatty souvenirs.

Then he found a sleeveless vest. He held it up. It looked good. The colours pleased him. There was a pattern on it, a picture, red stripes, one way and one way.

A criss-cross.

Cross.

He saluted.

'Lord Nelson, sir,' he said, the words clear in his head, but coming out as a slurred grunt.

It was a flag.

The cross of his country.

He pulled it over his head. Yes. He was the king now. The king of London, the king of the world. And he was going to get strong and take his revenge on those boys. Those clever-clever school kids who thought they could beat him.

Him! Lord Nelson. Lord London. King of souvenirs.

And worse. They done bad. They took his Liam from him. Yes. They killed him. He'd been looking after Liam and they killed him.

They couldn't do that to him. He was a hero. He was Charlie George. Saint Charlie. Saint George, the pigeon slayer. Not a pigeon, a dragon. Yes. St George. And he was going to kill every dragon in the world.

But first he was going to go home and see his boy. And he was going to take his boy to the football. To the big church, what were they called? Catherine wheel? No. Catholic. Cathedral. Yes. His own cathedral. The stadium. The theatre of dreams.

Home.

The Arsenal.