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“You can keep ’em,” Barney said with a grunt. “Throw those others away. They reek.”

“Thank you. Are you sure your son won’t mind?”

Barney grunted again. “He won’t mind. I haven’t seen him in two years; he’s not coming back anytime soon.”

“Where is he?” Alex asked quietly, sensing a story.

“Up north somewhere, working in construction.” Barney shrugged. “His houder says I’m not allowed to contact him.”

“He’s an IS?” Alex realised he should have seen that coming.

“Yeah.” Barney’s expression hardened. “I wanted him to go into haulage, same as me. I probably pushed him too hard. Me and his mum split up when he was just a kid, and I wasn’t around for him as much as I should’ve been – I can see that now.”

“So he sold himself as an IS?” Alex pressed, frowning.

Barney shook his head. “Nah. He fell in with some bad kids, got into trouble with the law, and was sold to pay for the damage he caused. Five-year sentence – and under those new rules they brought in a few years back, it’s up to his houder if I get to write to him, or see him, or even speak to him on nanochat.

” Barney shook his head. “I don’t know what ruddy genius thought that law up, but it breaks my heart that I can’t even bloody well tell him I still love him, and that I’ll be here, waiting for him, when he’s released. ”

“I’m so sorry,” Alex said softly.

“I know the boy screwed up, but he’s my son.” Barney sighed. “I used to be one of the ‘sell ’em off and let ’em rot’ brigade, in the old days, but now I think the system stinks.”

“That’s why you helped me.”

Barney nodded and skewered a chip with his fork. “I saw you and thought of Robbie – if he ever ran away and was starving, I hope someone’d stop and help him.”

“Thank you,” Alex told him. “I appreciate it more than I can say.”

Barney shrugged. “Your dad would do the same. ”

“I don’t know.” Alex hunched his shoulders miserably. “My dad was pretty angry with me when I last saw him.”

“Yeah, I could have kicked Robbie’s arse for the shit he pulled, the stupid idiot,” Barney growled. “But he’s my son, and I love him. Your dad feels the same way, trust me.”

“I’m not sure he does.”

“He does,” Barney said confidently. “Give him time. He hasn’t stopped loving you – he’s your dad.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Alex said, wrapping his arms around his body and hugging himself.

“It is. Look, I don’t know your story, son, and I don’t wanna know.

I don’t know how you wound up an IS, or why you’re running away.

I ain’t asking. I just figured you need to get away, and I know a bloke with a boat in Swanage.

I just called him, and he said if I can get you there by first tide in the morning, he’ll take you to Le Havre.

No idea what you’ll do when you get there, but at least you’ll be out of the country. ”

“You’d do that for me?” Alex asked incredulously.

“Yeah.” Barney finished his food and sat back, patting his ample belly happily. “Well, that was bloody good.”

“It was,” Alex agreed. “Fish and chips is now officially my favourite food.”

“Mine too.” Barney glanced over Alex’s shoulder. “I see that poor bastard turned up dead,” he said, jerking his head at the screen behind the bar.

Alex swivelled in his chair to see a photo of Lars. “The escaped IS who killed the guy with the fancy car?” he said, his heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah. Heard it on the radio earlier while you were asleep. His body washed up in a lost zone a few hours ago. Poor fucker. They’re probably pinning it on him just because he’s an escaped indie.

” Barney lifted his drink and gestured to the screen with it.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the husband was the real killer, not the IS.

” He nodded at the screen again, which was showing a picture of Joe entering the Inquisitus building.

He was dressed in a suit this time, but his face was frozen in an expression of numb grief.

Alex barely recognised him. Was this really the man he’d met a few nights ago, who’d laughed as he teased his husband about his taste in music? He looked like a hollow shell now.

“You okay, Johnny?” Barney asked.

“Yeah. Just…” Alex shook his head, unable to tear his gaze from the screen.

“I know. This country’s going to the dogs.

You’re better off out of it, even if you are going to a bloody war zone.

” Barney waved his drink at the screen in disgust. “The IS system is getting out of hand. It never used to work this way. It kinda made sense to me when I was a kid – we used to treat indies properly back then. Nowadays, it’s just an excuse for cheap labour, to save money on prisons, and to get poor people outta the Quarterlands and where the government can keep an eye on ’em.

Why the fuck are we putting microchips in people and making ’em wear those stupid ID tags?

That’s only happened in the last twenty years.

Before then, we didn’t bother with any of that crap.

You helped people out by letting ’em live in your house and do some work for you in exchange, ’cause they didn’t have nothing, and we all had to pull together.

Now, we’re richer than we were back then, but we treat ’em worse.

Somewhere along the way, the whole damn system got twisted into the fuck-up it is today. ”

“Most people don’t see it that way,” Alex said. “Most people don’t care.”

“When it doesn’t affect you, then I guess you don’t.” Barney grunted. “I never did, until Robbie…” He trailed off moodily. “Anyway, you don’t wanna hear me rant. It’s late – let’s kip down in the lorry tonight, and then I’ll take you to Swanage first thing tomorrow.”

A few hours later, Barney drew up at the seafront, and they both jumped down from the truck.

“My friend’s boat is that one – the Mary-Anne .

” He pointed to a rugged old vessel at the far end of the dock.

“He’ll be along in an hour, but he won’t wait as he needs to catch the tide, so be ready.

Sorry to drop you and run, but I gotta get this load down to Penzance by noon to meet my deadline. ” He jerked his head at the lorry.

“Please – that’s absolutely fine. You’ve done so much for me.”

“His name’s Paul Andrews, and he’ll want paying.” Barney pulled out a handful of cash cards and stuffed them into Alex’s pocket. “You give him these – it’s what I agreed with him last night.”

Alex swallowed hard, feeling humbled beyond belief by Barney’s kindness. It was clear the lorry driver wasn’t a wealthy man, but he was prepared to give him a big wad of cash cards to help him get away.

“Thank you,” he said. He threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around Barney.

The man gave a grunt of surprise and then hugged him back.

“Wish I could have a few hours with my boy again, same way I did with you,” he choked into Alex’s hair.

Drawing back, he cleared his throat. “You take care, Johnny. You get out and go live someplace else. This country’s a shithole these days.

” He climbed back into his cab, and, with a little wave, he drove off.

Alex stood there, watching him go, feeling an acute sense of loneliness and loss. He’d known Barney Bates for less than twenty-four hours, but he’d been a good friend.

It was cold on the seafront, and as Paul Andrews wouldn’t be arriving for a little while he decided to kill time by buying a cup of tea in a nearby café.

He sat nursing the tea, feeling a cautious sense of hope stirring inside.

He hadn’t seen any of Tyler’s SUAVs or helicopters around, and in a few hours he’d be in France, swallowed up in the chaos there but out of reach of the British legal system.

He’d face a whole new set of challenges when he arrived, but at least he’d be free.

Hopefully, he could find a job, however menial, and work to get by until he figured out what to do next.

The waitress turned on the radio and a song by Ashton blared out.

Alex was glad it wasn’t the one that had been playing in the car that night.

He wondered how Joe was doing. He couldn’t imagine ever having a love as strong as Joe and Peter had shared.

Love was something other people did; it had always eluded him.

He could see now that he’d been lost in self-loathing for so long that he’d never felt that anyone could love him.

He’d used croc, alcohol, and casual sex as anaesthetics, so he didn’t have to face up to the choices he’d made.

Alex Lytton was a screw-up, but maybe there was a chance for John Brown in France.

Maybe there he could learn to love himself, and find someone who could love him back.

He wanted someone like Joe in his life – teasing him out of his bad moods, making him laugh, and sharing a life together.

Joe wouldn’t take any shit from him the way Solange had.

If Joe had a streak of darkness in him, then Alex, of all people, could identify with that.

He shook his head, silently mocking himself.

Poor Peter had only been dead a few days, and he was sitting here fantasising about the grieving man he’d left behind.

It was unlikely he’d ever see Joe again, and even if he did, he doubted Joe would want him around as a daily reminder of the terrible night his husband was murdered.

A news jingle played on the radio. Alex listened intently, wondering if there would be more information on Lars.

“Investigators carrying out a post-mortem on the body of Lars Driessen, the escaped IS responsible for the murder of Captain Peter Hunt, have announced the cause of death as drowning. It’s believed that Driessen fell into the lost zone close to where the murder took place when fleeing the crime scene.

There were no signs of a struggle, and nobody is being sought in connection with his death. ”

Alex wondered if Joe had killed Driessen, and his boss at Inquisitus was covering for him – although Director Lomax hadn’t looked like the kind of person who’d agree to something like that.

“The Home Secretary has reassured the public that this was a one-off incident, and is not indicative of a crisis in the IS system, which is robust and still offers the best chance of a good life to the poor and dispossessed.”

Alex snorted into his tea.

“In other news, Noah Lytton, the CEO of Lytton AV and father of Olympic hero Charles Lytton, was rushed to St Catherine’s hospital in Sevenoaks last night after suffering a suspected stroke.

A hospital spokesman said he’s in a serious condition, and the next forty-eight hours are critical.

Sources close to the family say that Noah Lytton never recovered from the loss of his wife in an AV accident six years ago, and that he’s been in poor health since his youngest son was sentenced into indentured servitude earlier this year.

Lytton AV is one of the most famous companies in the UK, a star of the post-Rising years, although its fortunes have declined in recent times. ”

Alex sat frozen to his seat in shock. At first, he’d thought the news was a Tyler trick to entice him into the open and trap him, but then he heard Charles’s soft, unmistakeable voice, talking to reporters.

“We don’t know how bad it is yet… the doctors are still running tests. I’ve been with him all night. I’m going home for a bit now, but I’ll be back later. He’s in good hands. We’re all hoping he’ll pull through.” Charles’s voice broke a little at the end.

There was no way George Tyler could have involved Charles and his father in such an elaborate ruse, to say nothing of the hospital. The news report had to be true.

He sat in stunned silence, staring out of the window at the boats bobbing up and down on the sea until he saw a man walk up to the Mary-Anne , glance around, and then jump onto the craft.

Standing up, Alex walked out of the café mechanically. He had to catch the boat… Paul Andrews wouldn’t wait for him. He had to go over there, give Andrews the cash cards Barney had stuffed in his pocket, and set out for his new life in France.

His feet stopped moving, and he stood, hesitating, on the quayside. Barney’s words echoed in his mind: Wish I could have a few hours with my boy again, same way I did with you.

If his father died, then his last words to Alex would be the bitter, angry ones he’d spoken in his office that day, wishing Alex had never been born. He didn’t think he could bear that.

He hasn’t stopped loving you – he’s your dad.

He wanted to believe that was true. He watched as Paul Andrews moved around his boat, getting it ready to sail.

He could go over there, leave it all behind.

He’d never see his father again, but at least he’d get away from Tyler.

He was an escaped IS – how could he enter the hospital without being caught?

There was no way he could go back to being Tyler’s IS again.

He couldn’t stand it. He’d rather die. His feet started moving once more towards the Mary-Anne .

He was almost there when they stopped again.

Supposing he was letting his father down yet again by running out on him when he was on his deathbed? How many times could he let the man down and still be able to live with himself? Could he really start a new life in France knowing he’d run out on his father when he was so desperately ill?

He was suddenly six years old, stuck up an old plum tree in the garden.

“I’ll catch you, Alex. Come on – jump!” his father shouted, standing below, laughing.

“Are you sure you’ll catch me?” Alex yelled down uncertainly. “You won’t drop me?”

“Of course not, silly. Just jump!”

And he had. He’d closed his eyes and thrown himself into the air… and had landed, safe and sound, in his father’s arms.

“See, I told you I’d catch you.” Noah lifted Alex up onto his shoulders, still laughing.

Alex realised he was walking rapidly away from the boat.

He had the money Barney had given him. He could catch a coach to Sevenoaks, find a way to sneak into the hospital, speak to his father, and tell him he loved him.

If his father was dying, he owed Noah that.

Hopefully, he could sneak out again afterwards and make his way back down here.

At least he knew Paul Andrews had a boat and would take him to France.

He could find a job, earn enough for the fare.

He had to do this. He had to see his father. He had to at least try.