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As he left the factory, Carson glanced back and spotted Helena and Bentley in the shadows of the platform, although neither of them gave any indication of recognition. Carson supposed he ought to be grateful, given Coombs’s presence. The last thing he wanted was to inflame the man’s suspicions more than he had already. The seven-man troop surrounded Carson, Coombs and the Sims and herded the four of them along the city streets. The rundown architecture of the area depressed Carson. He found it hard to comprehend how the Government could remain so indifferent to such conditions. Even if everything he had suspected prior to entering the BCI had proven unfounded, the squalor in this area alone would have biased his articles toward calling for the end of the camps. Now, given all he had learnt from Bentley and his daughter, there was no doubt at all in Carson’s mind. His report would be an all out call for reform and damning in the extreme. There was no way Carson’s journalistic principles would let him twist the truth to the extent Coombs had said the TGP required. There was just no way, though Carson recognised he would have to tread very carefully. He very much doubted if Mr. Knoll and his party cohorts would be so taken with him once it became clear he had no intention of playing along and, of course, there was every chance Coombs’s threats were more than just talk. Carson had already worked out a plan of action, although in truth his options were limited. He just hoped PWN were up for the fight. If Planet Wide were not prepared to bite the bullet and protect him, to protect the integrity of the story, then he was truly screwed and there was every chance none of it would ever see the light of day. However, if things went according to plan and Planet Wide took the story, then Carson believed, not only would he have the most incredible story of his life, but they had a real chance to stop compounding the injustices of the past and give the Post Gen’s the chance to live free of the camps. The first and most important hurdle to overcome was Coombs. Carson knew he had to stop the man from burning the camp the moment they left it. Somehow he had to stall Coombs long enough for the story to break. Once it was out of his head and onto the news-net, there would be no suppressing it, no avoiding it, and no way for the Government or Coombs to plead ignorance. Once the story was on the net, its power would build until it obtained a life of its own. Then it would be unstoppable and retaliation by the military would be more difficult to justify. Carson looked around at Coombs. He had no idea how he was going to pull this off, but guessed he better think of something soon. He could already see the Snow Hill gate concourse up ahead. He glanced at Kolly and Keemut. The Sims, like Coombs, had retreated into introspection and become uncommunicative since leaving the cell. The only words spoken had come from their escort of four men and three women, and these were only commands to keep up and move along. As soon as they arrived at the Snow Hill gate, one of the guards commanded their release. Two of the men moved forward and, with practised ease, cut free the plastic restraints. Carson rubbed the circulation back into his wrists and watched as the two guards stepped back and rejoined the semicircular cordon the troop had set up around them. Behind him sat the cracked plastic dome of the station entrance. Time was running out. Once they were inside they would be on their way home and he still had no idea what to do to stop the inevitable reprisal Coombs would call up. His only hope was the mission exfil was not for another twenty plus hours, which, unless Coombs had a comm. unit, meant he would at least have a little more time to come up with something before the shit hit the fan. “Please remain where you are for the next twenty minutes,” one of the guards said. “Do not attempt to enter the station or leave the concourse area. You will be watched.” The man signalled and a couple of the guards lowered Carson’s camera bag and Kolly’s medical gear to the ground. Then the troop backed away, widening the circle a step at a time, until, two by two, they turned and left at a trot. Each small group headed in a different direction until only the man who had spoken remained. “Remember, we’ll be watching you,” the man said, looking at Carson as he backed away. Once the man was out of sight, Carson walked over to where the returned equipment had been left and retrieved his Camera. The memory unit was intact and the wipe trace did not show any erasure. He picked up Kolly’s case and handed it over to the medic. “What now?” he asked. “Do we just wait for the mono?” Coombs crossed to the edge of the concourse. The street was deserted. He turned and looked at Carson. “Now we get some answers,” he said. “Answers?” “About your loyalties, Carson.” “Are you off your head, Coombs?” Carson asked. “Just cut the macho bullshit and get with the programme. I’m not the problem.” “Really? Why don’t I believe you?” “I’ve no idea. Maybe because you’re paranoid beyond all reason?” “Paranoid? You think I’m being paranoid?” “They’re not a danger to us, Coombs. Don’t you get it, it’s men like you that pose a threat to this world.” “You’re right,” Coombs said. “I am a threat to the infected, because I plan to see them pay for this.” Coombs turned away from Carson to face Keemut. “Trooper,” he said. “Arrest that man.” Carson backed up as Keemut advanced across the concourse towards him. “Now wait a minute,” he said to Coombs, lifting his right arm, palm out, to halt the soldier’s momentum. “You can’t just arrest me.” “Oh, but I can,” Coombs said. “Stop. This is not right,” Kolly said, as he stepped in front of Keemut. “To my knowledge Mr. Carson has committed no crime and so does not deserve this treatment.” Keemut stopped, blocked by the medic, and looked to Coombs for clarification. “You have been warned before, Sim,” Coombs said. “Now step aside before I lose all patience. “And you,” he yelled at the solider. “Carry out your fucking orders.”
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