and distributing . . .’
And if those three members didn’t go along with that line of hogwash, so be it, it really didn’t matter. Five votes to three would sideline their opinion anyway.
Malcolm sighed. How tempting it would be to just come right out into the open and explain what he and his colleagues were up to. They would see the sense of it, he was sure. They would see the bigger picture. They would see that this needed to be done for everyone’s benefit. They would see what would one day happen, the frightening future scenarios, if something as unpleasant as this wasn’t orchestrated now.
But to do that, to talk openly of the goal to these three uninitiated committee members, would mean to hint at the controlling hand behind these events, the One Hundred and Sixty and the Twelve.
And, knowing of these things, they would, of course, have to die.
CHAPTER 51
3 p.m. GMT Shepherd’s Bush, London
Leona turned round to see three of them standing right behind them. She was surprised that they had managed to get so close without making a sound.
Unless they were trying to, of course.
‘You got a fag mate?’ said the one in the middle, who was black, shorter than the other two; a scrawnier version of 50 Cent. He was flanked on either side by two taller lads, both lean, white, wearing baggy tracksuit trousers that hung like full nappies. They called students that dressed like that ‘wiggers’ at uni - morons who pretended they were gangsters, homeboys; white kids who desperately yearned to be black, and did their faltering best to sound like they’d been brought up on the bad streets of LA She hated the term, almost as much as the one it was derived from, but it did a good job of summing them up.
‘Uh, I don’t smoke, mate,’ replied Dan with a friendly but uncertain smile. ‘Well I sort of do a little stuff, at parties and . . . and . . . but no, right now I don’t have any smokes on me.’
The kid who looked like 50 Cent turned to address Leona. ‘What about you, love?’
Leona already knew this wasn’t about scrounging a cigarette. ‘I don’t smoke either. But I bet you’ll find hundreds of cartons inside there,’ she replied, pointing through the broken window behind them.
‘Shit, yeah . . . maybe looksee,’ replied 50 Cent, shooting a glance at the window, then back to her. ‘You wanna go flicc with us, girl?’
Leona shook her head. She was pretty sure ‘flicc’ meant ‘hang around’ and not something worse, but she could guess that might be where this was headed, what he was thinking about.
‘No thanks, I’m going home now with my boyfriend.’
Dan nodded. ‘Yeah, we’re all done here . . . just . . . just heading back home now.’
‘It’s jungle time now, not urban jungle no more,’ said 50 Cent. ‘Police are gone away. It’s fuckin’ mad out here.’
One of his two wingmen, his wigger homeboys, laughed and nodded. Leona guessed he must have been about seventeen, his baby-smooth skin pockmarked with spots around his eyebrows - one of which was shaved into little dashes.
‘Yeah, we noticed,’ said Dan. ‘So, we’re gonna make tracks—’
‘Yo, man. Ain’t talkin’ to you,’ said the kid with the dashed eyebrow. ‘Fuckin’ twat,’ he added.
Leona squeezed Dan’s hand gently to shut him up. There was probably a way for them to excuse themselves and be about their business, but only coming from her mouth; something clever, laddish, funny might just do it, make ’em laugh and move on. Anything coming from him was going to be considered a challenge.
‘It’s mad all right,’ said Leona. ‘Yeah . . . really fuckin’ buzzin’ man. Buff ain’t it?’
The three youths nodded and smiled. She guessed they liked her saying that, or maybe they were just laughing at her unconvincing sister-talk.
Dan took a step to the left, his feet noisily shuffling glass and clutter across the concrete.
‘Fuck you goin’?’ said 50 Cent.
‘We’re just going, okay?’ said Dan. ‘We don’t want any trouble, we’re just going to—’
‘You goin’ nowhere.’
Dan nodded obediently. ‘Sure, okay. I’ll just sit down or something,’ he mumbled submissively stooping down with his hands reaching out for the ground. Leona knew, then and there, he was going to do something.
With a flick of both hands he flung a cloud of dust and shards of glass up at the three youths standing in front of them.
They flinched, covering their faces. Leona took the opportunity to