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Back The Source Save as PDF
Chapters (53)
  1. The Source
  2. Dedication
  3. Contents
  4. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  5. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  6. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  7. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  8. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  9. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  10. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  11. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  12. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  13. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  14. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  15. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  16. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  17. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1996
  18. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  19. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  20. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  21. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  22. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  23. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  24. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  25. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  26. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  27. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  28. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  29. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  30. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  31. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  32. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  33. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1997
  34. Carly ~ Warchester ~ 1998
  35. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  36. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  37. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  38. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  39. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  40. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  41. Marie ~ Just outside Warchester ~ 2006
  42. Carly ~ London ~ 2001
  43. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  44. Carly ~ Deptford ~ 2002
  45. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  46. Marie ~ Deptford ~ 2004
  47. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  48. Marie ~ London ~ 2005
  49. Marie ~ London ~ 2006
  50. Marie ~ London ~ Six months later
  51. Acknowledgements
  52. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  53. Copyright

‘Copy,’ he says to the radio, before returning it to his pocket. The seconds tick past in a rustle of willow.

‘Pass me your phone and I’ll give you proof,’ he says. My heart starts to hammer so hard I think it might fall out of my pocket on its own.

‘How’s my phone going to prove anything?’ I lick my lips as I stammer.

‘You wanted proof. How else do you expect me to show you we’ve unfrozen your bank accounts under a willow tree?’

I stare back at him, one eyelid twitching more than the other.

‘Like I have one of those fancy internet phones,’ I gabble, trying to sound like panic isn’t chasing blood out of my veins. ‘I don’t work at the ministry, remember?’

‘Shut up!’

Air leaves my lungs as his hand closes round my throat, face so close I can see the hairs inside his nostrils, aggression seeping from every pore. My vision starts to darken, closing at the edges as I dangle from his hand, small vein pulsing at his temple until … Thud. I buckle and cough as he drops me.

‘They were right about you,’ he hisses, rigid metal so taut against his pocket it’s unmistakable. ‘No regard for protocol. Abject indiscipline…’ A glob of spit hits my hand as he hawks into my face. ‘Now don’t tempt me, Medusa. Indiscipline never goes unpunished where I come from, much less where you came from. Your papers will be the least of it if you don’t give up your source, and give it up right now. I have my orders.’ He taps a finger on his pocket. ‘And indiscipline has never been a problem of mine.’

I struggle to my feet. Stay close, Marie. You’ve got to stay close. I smooth down the front of my coat as I straighten, mucus sticky 254on my hand, my phone lumpen above my heart. I step even closer as I say it.

‘It’s Jaqlin. It’s the commissioner herself. Nine have got to her. And she’s coming for you.’

A sharp intake of breath; a gasp so sharp the tape can’t fail.

‘You heard me,’ I say, emboldened. ‘And you know what comes next. Protocol’s protocol, isn’t it?’

His lip curls as he glares down at me, the real gorgon if ever I saw one.

‘Hermes,’ he hisses after a moment. ‘You will say nothing without Hermes, you insubordinate little cunt. You’ll get word. And you know to wait for it.’

And with another hawk, glancing off my cheek, he disappears through the willow, sun dazzling me blind as the boughs part.

255

Marie ~ London ~ 2005