didn’t need a cadaver, just someone whupped enough to know better and pass that on.
The sun was setting out here, settling across the river. Snoop liked it out the back; the rear entrance to the dome. Quieter. Away from the shuffling workers, the clack of spades on soil. He settled back in the deckchair, silently watching the lashing chains for another minute before he raised a hand.
‘A’ight! That’s all!’
Three of them stopped, Ceebay carried on lashing out another couple of times.
‘Shit, I said stop!’ barked Snoop. The boy relented after another swift kick.
‘Now take him to the infirmary. Get him seen to.’
The four boys carried the man back across the quay and into the dome, leaving Snoop alone with his sunset. He listened to the sound of the barges bumping and nuzzling the quayside. Barges they’d not used for a while; not since they’d last tried foraging up and down the Thames.
He sighed. Ceebay, just like Dizz-ee, just like Notor-ius; all hotheads that needed watching. Mind you, at their age he remembered himself being no different; wanting to prove himself to be the hardest, meanest. Prove that he could be much more than just a runner, or a spotter; that he could be a top-fucking-dog and run a den.
Old days, those . . . back when there was a business, when money actually meant something.
He was top dog now, right? No longer a foot soldier but a general.
True.
Ten years ago, being a general would’ve meant controlling most of the corners of a postcode; would have meant a thirty per cent cut on the takings. Not bad. But here, now, it was a very different kind of power to, say, having money. It was absolute fucking power.
Maxwell had set things up well here; a rigid hierarchy that worked efficiently. The workers kept safe and fed, the girls in the cattle shed with their extra privileges as long as they played along, the praetorians keeping an eye on things, then of course Snoop as top dog . . . and Maxwell, the Chief, at the very top. Everyone with a role, everyone with a place and absolutely no misunderstandings.
The system had worked just fine for the last three years, since the boys had kicked out those soldiers. Everybody got something out of it . . . all right, some more than others. And it would carry on working for as long as there was food for everyone to eat, and treats for the boys.
But there’s the thing, a’ight?
Snoop knew just as well as Maxwell that all the shit they had down below in storage wasn’t going to last them for ever.
Whilst the Chief was an arrogant pale-ass fucker, all suit and bullshit, he was smart. Very smart. The man knew his history, had taught a little to Snoop and the other boys. Made them see how everyone from Roman emperors to Anglo-Saxon kings, even East African warlords, all kept house the same way: a warrior elite at the top of the pile kept sweet and well-paid.
The Chief was shrewd and he knew, despite all the stuff they were growing out front, that their supplies were running out. He had a plan. He must have a plan. Snoop was sure the wily old bastard was sitting on something clever. Because the alternative - fun though it was for the boys - was what? To sit right here until it all ran out?
Then what?
He watched the Thames glistening calmly, the gentle slap and murmur of water against the base of the quay. The Chief had some kind of long game going. He was certain of it.
Jacob lurched in his cot and his eyes snapped open. He found himself staring up at the tangle of their camouflage netting, and beyond that at the pale canopy of the dome’s canvas.
It was still dark.
In the cot beside his own he could hear Nathan’s deep and easy breathing, fast asleep and untroubled . . . as he always seemed to be. Nathan never appeared to be anything other than untroubled, it was his default demeanour. His unflappable cruise control. Mr Laid-back calmly accepting the whatever-comes-next that life throws at you like some good-natured diner casually awaiting the next course of a mystery banquet.
Jacob so envied that about him.
The last few weeks had seen them pulling long hours outside amongst the workers; learning a whole new way of life, new rules. Then that all changed again when Mr Maxwell said they could grab their belongings and move up into