Children of the Cull Read Online Free PDF Page A

Bowie. There was a scar on her chin, not deep, but noticeable, and her nose and eyebrows were pierced with simple studs.
    She looked slight when compared to Broken-Nose, but so would Sly Stallone. It was clear from the way she held herself that she’d be handy in a fight.
    “Where’d you come from?”
    I coughed once before answering. “Around.”
    Barnstable yanked my hair, not satisfied with the answer.
    “I travel. Here and there.”
    “Pretty well-armed for a tourist.”
    “Can you blame me?”
    She smiled. It wasn’t entirely pleasant.
    “So why the roof? What were you doing up there?”
    There was no point lying.
    “I wanted to see the base.”
    “Why?”
    “Why do you think? It’s MoD. There’ll be... stuff in there.”
    She regarded me coldly.
    “What kind of ‘stuff’?”
    “Medical supplies, equipment. There’s lights on, so there must be power.”
    “Clever boy. You planning a raid?”
    “I was, until someone got there first.”
    Her eyes narrowed.
    “What did you see?”
    “That they’re well defended. Guards. Guns. The works. Which means...” I left the sentence hanging.
    She couldn’t resist filling the silence. Good. “Yes?”
    “There’s something worth protecting.”
    Broken-Nose stepped up behind the woman. “How did you know about it?”
    “What?”
    “It’s a good question,” Irish said. “How did you know a base was even here?”
    I shrugged. “Followed the signs, from the motorway.”
    “Is that right?”
    “MoD base. Simple as that.”
    She glanced to my right, and Barnstable yanked at my hair, stretching out my neck, cold steel at my throat.
    “Try again,” he hissed in my ear, his breath perfectly matching the rest of his general bouquet.
    “O-okay, okay,” I stammered, raising a hand to signal capitulation. “I’ll tell you.”
    The pressure of the blade relaxed, only for a moment, but long enough for my other hand to grip Barnstable’s knife arm. I pulled it down, away from me, planting my feet firmly against the floor. Shoving back, I rammed the chair into the scrawny git, smashing my elbow into his face for good measure.
    Twisting his knife arm, I sprang out of the chair, feeling hair rip from my scalp. Something cracked and he dropped the knife with a yelp, his arm hopelessly over-extended.
    I heard the others’ guns as I pivoted around to pin him to the floor, knowing full well that I was hopelessly outnumbered.
    In fact, I was dead where I stood.
    So I answered the question properly.
    “MoD Abbey Wood. Opened 1996. Headquarters of the DE&S. Seven thousand staff across four buildings with an annual budget of roughly thirteen billion. There were plans to build a fifth building, but the Cull put pay to that. Would you like me to continue?”
    All the time I didn’t look up, staring at the back of Barnstable’s head. He was wearing a faded blue baseball cap, his lanky brown hair riddled with dandruff.
    I had to wait, to see what the boss-woman would do.
    She took her time.
    “Put them away.”
    There was a moment’s hesitation before the guns were holstered. I didn’t react until she spoke again.
    “I would prefer if you didn’t break Fenton’s arm.”
    “That you?” I asked the man still beneath my knee.
    His only reply was a curse. I released his arm and stood back. Fenton scrambled to his feet, massaging his shoulder, looking for the world that he wanted to punch me in the face.
    “That’s enough,” his boss commanded, and Fenton retreated, like the good dog he was.
    I stared at him, my expression neutral.
    “DE&S?”
    I turned back to the woman, who was standing as relaxed as ever, her eyebrows raised expectantly.
    “Defence Equipment and Support,” I explained. “Procurement for all the major services, from paper clips to aircraft carriers.”
    “And you know all this how?”
    “I’ve been inside, only a couple of times, but enough to know my way around.”
    “Military?”
    “The staff? Not largely. I’d say an eighty-twenty