began to get tight here.
Not if . . . when . . . supplies become tight, Alan. When. They’re not going to last for ever.
Maxwell shuffled uncomfortably. They had quite a few years’ worth as things stood. But he wondered if Brooks and his two platoons of RAF gunners might one day decide to take matters into their own hands, decide who was essential and who wasn’t.
Something to keep in mind.
Maxwell offered the woman a kindly smile - one he hoped was comforting, fatherly. ‘Well, Ms Rajput, let me assure you that you’ll be safe here.’
She nodded, eager to believe that, and then her face was in her hands, her shoulders shaking; her firm resolve to appear the strong woman in front of them had lasted as long as it could; she weakened and crumbled.
‘There’s food and water for you. We have an urn of heated water downstairs in the main piazza. Go down there and one of my people will sort you out a cup of tea.’
She stood up, pushing the chair back. ‘Th-thank you,’ she managed to sob. ‘I . . . I . . . was—’
‘That’s all right, Ms Rajput. You go and sort yourself out now. Morgan here will show you down and take your details. Help you settle in.’
‘You . . . you’re a kind man,’ she smiled weakly. ‘But how . . . how have you . . . ?’
‘Coped so well?’
She nodded. ‘I heard . . . from someone . . . I think I heard, that every last one of our safe zones ended in a mess.’ She managed a haunted smile of relief. ‘I really thought it was all . . . all gone.’
‘We’ve held out because difficult decisions were made early on.’
‘What?’
Maxwell gazed out of the office window looking down onto the rows of cots below. Dawn had broken and pallid grey light slipped across the entrance plaza. The people were stirring, roused by the clatter of a ladle on a metal catering pan.
‘Morgan will tell you,’ he continued, ‘I made the call to let in a lot fewer than I was told to.’ He shook his head. ‘Hardest decision I ever made, but I believe it was the right one.’
She nodded. ‘Yes . . . yes, I suppose it was.’
Morgan led her out of the office. The door closed behind them leaving him alone with Brooks.
‘My God,’ uttered Brooks eventually. ‘Then, what? It’s just us now?’
Maxwell nodded. ‘Us, and I suppose a few small groups here and there.’ He laughed.
‘The sort of survivalist nut jobs who’ve been hoping for something like this for years. I imagine they’re like pigs in mud.’
‘Jesus.’
‘The thing is, Brooks, this dome, those people out there, that is the UK now. That’s it. We’re what’s left of law and order, what’s left of the chain of command.’ He shrugged unhappily. ‘And I suppose by default that’s going to make me . . . well, that makes me the Prime Minister, doesn’t it? The Big Cheese.’
Brooks looked down at him sharply but said nothing. He swallowed noisily, shuffled uncomfortably.
Maxwell stood up and stepped towards the window, looking down at Starbucks’ outside seating area, at Morgan leading the woman through the chairs and tables. He sat her down on an unassigned cot, produced a clipboard and began asking her questions, scribbling down her answers.
If this is all there is now, just us - he shot a glance at Brooks - then I need to think about the future. Who I can trust . . .
‘Brooks,’ he said, ‘I think I’m going to have to make some changes round here.’
The Journey
Chapter 24
10 years AC
Bracton
Jacob watched Walter silently scanning the horizon as he helmed the yacht, all the sails out and fluttering, the diesel engine chugging and spitting; turned on to make better time.
He knew the old man was desperate to find Leona; desperate to find her for Jenny. Behind the gruff mask he’d kept on his face since the explosion, Jacob knew he blamed himself for Hannah’s death, for Jenny’s injuries . . . and now, unless he could find her and persuade her to come home, he’d blame himself for Leona’s departure, too.
Jacob returned his gaze to the sea. The small dinghy she’d taken had only a sixty-horsepower outboard motor on the back. With the sea as choppy as it was this morning she was going to make painfully slow progress. There was no knowing exactly when she’d set off, other than sometime before first light; so