Gilded Cage (Dark Gifts #1)

The others introduced themselves: Hilda and Tilda, Asif, Oswald – ‘Call me Oz’ – and Jessica. The two women with matching names were sisters, but Oz and Jessica didn’t claim Renie.

‘And this is Luke Hadley,’ said Jackson, slapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he sat down. Despite the frankly odd assortment of people, Luke felt a buzz of excitement.

‘So you’ve already seen how we socialize, Luke,’ the Doc said, smiling. ‘Things like the food and the air-con parts, that’s the small stuff we do every day. It’s not only essentials. A book or some music, or a love letter from outside that hasn’t been read first by a censor – anything from out there that makes life in here more bearable, we’re on it.

‘But though that’s all important, none of it changes anything. And changing things is what the club is all about, Luke. It’s the game we play. Let us show you.’

Luke nodded, tense but intrigued.

‘If you decide you don’t want to play, we’ll understand,’ Jackson continued. ‘But if that’s the case, we ask that you don’t mention the club or its activities to anyone. Jessica, why don’t you go first and show Luke how we roll.’

It turned out the fruit bowl wasn’t empty, because Jessica reached into it and drew out a small, folded square of paper. She frowned at it.

‘Honestly, Jack, your handwriting is terrible.’

Jackson held up both hands. ‘What can I say? I’m a doctor.’

‘It’s a good one, though,’ Jessica continued, reading from the paper. ‘“Identify and destroy Security evidence on charges against Evans N-2228.” I’ll take Hilda and Oz: her for the identifying, him for the destroying.’

She looked up at Oz. They might not be Renie’s parents, Luke decided, but they had a thing going on, which was kind of sweet.

‘Tell us more, Doc,’ rumbled Oz.

Jackson laced his fingers together, suddenly businesslike.

‘Barry Evans lost a hand in an accident at the poultry processing plant. He’d been telling his supervisor for ages that the equipment was faulty, but nothing was done. The day he gets out of hospital, he goes in during the night-time shutdown and smashes the place half to bits. No one saw him, but they caught him on camera and they’re going to slap him with slavelife. Find the footage, delete it. Make sure it’s off any backup servers. And if they’ve anything else incriminating, make sure that disappears too.’

The two women looked at each other and Hilda smacked her hand on the tabletop. Was it enthusiasm for their task? Disgust at what had happened to Evans? Luke couldn’t tell. In fact, he could hardly believe what he’d just heard, but the draw had already moved on and Tilda was reaching into the bowl. She hooted as she unfolded the paper she had selected.

‘“Live interview with ABC A.M.” – is that the Aussie radio people, Doc? – “at 11.15 p.m. Tuesday, about conditions inside British slavetowns.” Asif, you do the talking, and I’ll get us a secure line out through NoBird.’

‘Excellent,’ said Jackson. ‘You’ll do a great job. Which means there’s one game left this week.’

The room fell quiet. Asif quit swivelling his chair, silencing its squeak; Renie even stopped chewing her gum. The seven people in the room all looked at Luke.

No pressure.

‘You need to know,’ said Jackson, turning squarely to him, ‘that what we do has consequences. The penalty for the things we’ve just discussed could be many more years of days. But we do them because we believe that the consequences for everyone else, if we don’t, will be much greater.

‘I’d like you to join us, Luke. I think you could do great things for the club. But only you can choose whether or not to play. There aren’t any winners in our game – not till it all ends. And the opponent never changes.’

Luke eyed the fruit bowl, which sat in front of Tilda. A single square of paper, folded to the size of a thumbnail, lay at the bottom.

He looked back at Jackson, wiped his sweating palms down both legs of his overalls, then steadied them on the edge of the desk.

He’d always enjoyed games. This one was worth playing.

He reached out to the bowl.





7



Abi



Daisy was thrilled with her job at Kyneston. Even Mum and Dad had come to accept it, once they’d seen that their youngest daughter could cope.

But in Abi’s humble opinion, it wouldn’t end well.

Abi had been the first to see the cot, when Jenner had shown them around their cottage. She’d asked what it was doing there – in the third bedroom that should have been Luke’s.

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