Arctic Zoo, page 14
‘Hands up on your head,’ the cop growled, quickly finding her feet. ‘Are you carrying a knife or any other weapons?’
‘No,’ Georgia shuddered as she put her hands on her head.
The cop lifted the steamed-up visor of her riot helmet, then went down on one knee as she peeled a set of plasticuffs from her belt.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Georgia Pack.’
‘Been in trouble before?’ the cop asked as she patted Georgia down. ‘Arms together, behind your back.’
‘No,’ Georgia gasped, blinking sweat out of her eyes as the plastic cuffs bit her wrists. ‘Oww.’
‘Well, Georgia Pack,’ the cop said, giving a little laugh, ‘you’ve got yourself in a whole lot of trouble now …’
TWENTY-THREE
Julius felt detached. His body spent a rainy afternoon in history and Mandarin classes, but his thoughts focused on his looming fate. He’d settled at his desk for afternoon registration, when an Ijaw kid called Nengimote came in late and slid a cardboard-backed envelope onto his desk.
‘Collins asked me to give you this,’ Nengimote said, a tremble in his voice hinting that Collins hadn’t asked nicely.
The form tutor was droning as usual. ‘… I am delighted to say that the tardiness record of this class has improved dramatically over the latest recorded period. As a result, I shall …’
Julius was conscious of the noise as he ripped the paper flap. He squeezed the envelope and tilted it towards the light to see inside. The envelope lining was streaked in dark, clotted blood. Duke’s blood-smeared motorbike licence slid out, followed by the tap of two bloody teeth on the desktop. One almost bounced to the floor. Julius felt sickened as he caught the tooth and dropped it back in the envelope, but the kid at the next table had seen.
At the bottom of the envelope was a lined page, torn from one of St Gilda’s custom-printed homework diaries. There were diary notes in Duke’s handwriting – History due, art club, uncle Lagos meeting – but the big black letters inside the fold were Collins’s childlike scrawl:
You did my nose.
So, I did your boyfriend.
Have a fun day!
Julius tilted his head, clenched his fists and drilled holes in the ceiling with his eyes. He imagined a hundred horrible deaths for Collins. He wondered where Duke was, and whether Collins – and the twins, who were surely involved – had done more than punch out teeth.
He stayed at the desk, glowering as classmates filed out, then stood up, trying to think where to get hold of a weapon. A fire extinguisher, a metal barbell from the school gym, a jar of acid from the science block … But Collins would be expecting his rage and could snap Julius in half.
What I really need is a gun. Tuck it in the back of my trousers, rip it out and blast a hole through his stupid face … Julius didn’t have the heart of a killer, but it was satisfying to imagine the scene.
He walked to the waiting Lexus on autopilot. The twins usually came home later, after sports practice or a video game session with Collins and their crew at the governor’s mansion. Gabe had arranged a playdate with two mates and Julius opened the door to find them wrestling on the back seats, amidst a pungent whiff of preadolescence.
‘Shut up and seat belts!’ the driver yelled into the back as Julius climbed in the front.
Rage changed to dull loathing as the car crawled through school traffic. As Julius stared at the lights on the dashboard, he was startled by knuckles tapping on the driver’s side window. A body-built Transport Union thug had his face close to the glass, while the road ahead had been blocked with rusted oil drums.
‘Our cars never get stopped,’ Gabe told his friends curiously as he leaned between the front seats.
The driver lowered his window, but instead of a rolled banknote, he confidently flicked an ID, showing he was part of Governor Adebisi’s security detail. The goon looked at the card with contempt, then pounded on the metal roof. This was a signal for half a dozen union officials to swarm the car.
‘Up your ass to the governor’s office!’ the man leaning in the window shouted furiously. ‘He let the precinct be torn away from us. Now we move patrols out here and you pay like everyone else!’
The men outside shouted agreement and several thumped on the hood. The driver wasn’t going to risk the car getting scratched or losing a door mirror for the sake of two hundred naira and handed over the money. But the man at the window pointed at Julius and wagged a finger.
‘I have seen you in photographs,’ he said. ‘Tell your mother to dial back this aggression. People have died. For what?’
Before Julius could answer, the driver blasted his horn and rolled off, fast enough to scatter the men in front of the car.
‘Don’t tell your mother I paid a bribe,’ the driver begged Julius. ‘It will come from my own pocket.’
‘I’m not the snitch in this car,’ Julius said sourly, cutting a backwards glance that made Gabe freeze.
Orisa had prepared kebabs, fries and Fanta for Gabe and his friends. She still seemed sore at Julius and made no attempt to enforce Bunmi’s no food upstairs rule as he put skewers on a plate and walked to his room.
Julius switched on his air conditioner and threw open the curtains. The sun had broken through, turning the afternoon rains into a heat haze, but he could still see the soldiers on the gate. One was the guy who’d sold Julius the army cap and jacket, and he wondered what he might charge for a revolver and a box of bullets.
His thoughts switched to Duke as he pulled off his shoes. Remi was struggling for money, and Julius imagined Duke getting his teeth looked at by one of the dubiously qualified dentists who set up in slum areas or rooms behind shops. The thought depressed Julius so much he buried himself in bedclothes and listened enviously to Gabe and his friends, bantering as they played Call of Duty in the room next door.
He’d just dozed off when his mother stormed in without knocking.
‘This is childishness, with all your clothes inside the bed!’ Bunmi shouted. ‘I’ve already called your name three times – don’t make me say it again. Get up now!’
‘Why the hell should I?’ Julius found himself shouting.
Yelling wasn’t the best way to start a conversation with his mother, but feeling he had nothing more to lose made him fearless.
‘I have spoken to the recruitment department at Army Boys Academy. You would already be on your way, but there is a lengthy waiting list.’
‘I guess you’re stuffed then,’ Julius said boldly.
‘You are disrespectful.’ Bunmi shouted. ‘If I hear anything else from that mouth—’
‘Duke’s my best friend. He makes me happy.’
‘His kind will go to hell,’ Bunmi spat. ‘He is no longer a pupil of St Gilda’s. Multiple allegations of homosexual behaviour were made against him. The headmaster has agreed to expel, and you will not see him again.’
‘I’d rather live in a tin shack with Duke than a palace with you,’ Julius said, suddenly tearful.
‘Look at how he’s influenced you,’ Bunmi said. ‘To turn a clever boy like you into someone who hates his own mother.’
‘Why should I hate you?’ Julius railed. ‘Because you hate who I am? Because you care more about the family reputation than my happiness? Or how about the money you stole from the vaccine programme? Or the area boys you paid to fight the Transport Union and the three people who burned to death as a result?’
‘Have you no respect?’ Bunmi shouted.
Julius reared up, so angry that his mother backed up to the door. ‘No,’ he agreed noisily. ‘I’m almost fifteen – you have all the power over me now. Flog me, send me to Army Boys. Punish me however you like. But as soon as I’m old enough I’m leaving here … and I’m never coming back.’
TWENTY-FOUR
Georgia was freaking as she got marched out of the town hall by the riot cop.
I’m the good girl. The A-student. How did I get here? What will Dad say? Mum? Nan? Zac? Maya? How serious is this? What can they prove? Was there CCTV in that hallway where I smashed the window?
The back door of a police van opened. Two plasticuffed women sat on padded benches. Georgia recognised the peace-symbol hoodie of the woman who’d custard-bombed the councillor, then the door whomped shut and the only light came through a grilled vent in the roof.
‘First-timer?’ Peace Hoodie asked as she shuffled up to Georgia. ‘I’m Jen.’
‘You can tell?’ Georgia asked, then added, ‘I’m Georgia.’
‘You look scared to death,’ Jen explained, taking her arms from behind her back and revealing her cuffs dangling off one hand. ‘How old are you?’
‘Fourteen.’
‘Good age for a first offence.’ Jen smiled. ‘Kill anyone?’
‘No.’
‘Then you’ll be OK. But keep quiet, even if you think you’re talking your way out of something.’
Georgia looked confused and the middle-aged woman across the van leaned forward and explained in a posh-country-lady accent.
‘Imagine saying, I saw some chaps doing stuff in the town hall, but I wasn’t involved. That’s no admission of guilt, but you are admitting to being on the scene when laws were broken. If you give the police nothing, they need a witness to put you at the scene. And one can always claim that a witness is lying.’
‘First offence, fourteen years old, you’re golden,’ Jen reiterated, placing a hand on Georgia’s back.
‘My dad will flip though,’ Georgia said. ‘Mum will have a field day, saying Dad’s not looking after me …’
‘You think you’ve got regrets,’ Jen began. ‘I hid up on that roof for four hours. Jumped down, did my bit to that councillor and got away. I should have jumped a bus and gone home. But when I saw everyone charging up that ramp, I had to get stuck back in. And when the riot cops storm, who’s the first person they grab?’
‘The one who made them all look stupid?’ Georgia guessed.
Jen laughed. ‘I’ve got a two-year suspended hanging over me for trashing a police car,’ Jen explained. ‘And I haven’t peed in six hours …’
Georgia, Jen and the older woman across the van all started laughing. Then the van door came open again and two male riot officers shoved Sam inside. He stumbled awkwardly as he found a place to sit, but smiled once he’d settled.
‘Long time no see, Sam,’ Jen said brightly.
‘Nice work out there,’ Sam said as he looked at the older woman. ‘It’s Rosemary, isn’t it?’
The woman nodded, but sounded surprised. ‘I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure …’
Sam gave his gap-toothed smile. ‘I’ve been doing a lot of growing. I was at a demonstration about rural post office closures with my mum and you gave me a sherbet lime.’
‘I do love a sherbet lime,’ Rosemary said brightly.
Sam looked at Georgia and sounded more serious. ‘You’ve not been busted before, have you? Whatever you do, don’t say one word to the cops.’
‘We explained,’ Jen said as she gave Georgia a squeeze. ‘Though the poor girl still looks wrecked.’
Georgia was glad the van was too dark for anyone to see her cheeks flush red. ‘Maybe you guys get arrested on a regular basis, but it’s a big deal where I come from.’
‘I’ve been done thirty-three times,’ Rosemary said proudly. ‘Thirty-four if you include Greenham Common, when someone opened the back of the van and we all scarpered.’
‘Prison?’ Sam asked.
‘Several times,’ Rosemary admitted. ‘But judges love my accent. I never get long.’
There was more laughter as the door opened. Two uni students were herded in, giggling and smelling of booze as they squeezed beside Georgia. Up front, an officer got in the cab and a light came on as he started the engine.
‘Excuse me, officer,’ Rosemary said politely, knocking on a grilled flap behind the driver’s seat. ‘I hope you know we’re campaigning against police cuts too. So, could you pop us out at the mainline station?’
‘And I’ll buy you all a cup of tea and a cream bun first,’ the cop in the driving seat said as his passengers laughed.
Fifteen minutes later, the van doors opened to a merciful blast of fresh air in a police station car park. They’d stopped alongside an identical van filled with men that was already being unloaded. The driver ordered everyone to wait, but Jen barged out before the officer could do anything. She’d already unbuttoned her jeans and squatted down on her haunches to pee on the tarmac.
‘Best thing ever!’ Jen shouted, pumping her fist.
The cop wasn’t going near her while there was a risk of getting peed on. Two hoodies climbing out of the other van started wolf-whistling but got shouted down by campaigner types telling them to stop being sexist.
Jen’s toilet break earned her an immediate escort inside the station. Mercifully, the back door of the van was left open to let in fresh air as two more vanloads and a car with cuffed demonstrators in the back pulled up. But suspects were only going in two at a time and each pair took ages to process.
‘Have I got two juveniles, Pack and Dewar?’ a female officer in plain clothes asked as she leaned into the van.
Georgia helped Sam hobble down from the van and carefully straddled Jen’s puddle of urine, before wishing good luck to Rosemary and the drunk students, who were now propped against each other, fast asleep.
The scene inside the police station was mental, with arrestees penned off in a waiting area, queuing along hallways and packed into side rooms. Besides demonstrators breaking out in chants, there were drunks, a homeless guy telling non-existent dogs to stop barking, a woman who’d had her car stolen and an old lady in her dressing gown who’d wandered off from her care home.
‘I’m Jennifer, the juvenile support officer,’ the woman explained, holding clear bags containing Sam and Georgia’s keys, wallets and phones as she led them down a hallway to a lift. ‘I’d normally do stairs, but it looks like you’re hurt!’
When the lift arrived, Gerard came out, sandwiched between two mountainous officers. He was stripped to the waist and sporting a fat, bloody lip.
‘Virtual high five!’ Gerard said brightly, raising a set of proper metal cuffs. Then Sam got a serious look. ‘Have you told Georgia not to say a word?’
‘On the case, baby,’ Sam laughed as Gerard got marched away.
‘Oggy, oggy, oggy!’ Gerard shouted to a line of cuffed demonstrators.
‘Kill the pigs,’ a shout came back.
‘Since you’re both under sixteen, special custody rules apply,’ Jennifer explained as they went up. ‘You’re to be kept separate from adult suspects and we have to call a responsible adult to be here with you.’
On the second floor, Jennifer unlocked room C16 Juvenile Support. It was a stuffy, carpeted space, with an office behind the glass partition down one side. There were boxes of toys, brightly coloured armchairs and a toddler-sized drawing table.
Jennifer unlocked a metal cabinet and took out a pair of garden secateurs. ‘Will you do anything silly if I take those cuffs off?’
‘Does anyone ever answer yes to that question?’ Sam asked sarcastically.
Rather than take Sam’s bait, Jennifer snipped the cuffs around Georgia’s wrists. Sam held out his arms, but Jennifer gave him a you-wish look before putting the shears away. She came back with two forms on a clipboard.
‘OK,’ she began as she sat facing the two teens. ‘We’re snowed under. Since you’ve both been arrested for minor charges of trespass and criminal damage, all I need is your full names and addresses and the contact details for an adult who can take you home.’
Georgia had feared a night in a cell or an appearance before a judge. ‘Really?’
‘Really,’ Jennifer said, mockingly. ‘The charges and evidence will be reviewed by a prosecutor. You’ll receive a phone call or letter to say what will happen within a few weeks. That could be a dismissal, an invitation to admit guilt and accept a formal police warning or a notice that we intend to press charges and take you to court.’
Jennifer looked annoyed as Sam stretched into a bored yawn.
‘I’ll need my mobile to look up Dad’s number,’ Georgia said, dreading the moment when he got the call.
They filled in forms on clipboards. Sam struggled to write with cuffs but still scrawled I hate the fuzz at the bottom of the page. It was childish, but Georgia smirked when she saw it.
Sam put up his hands. ‘Excuse me, fascist tool of state oppression, I’ve finished.’
‘Quite the little radical,’ Jennifer scoffed, eyeballing Sam as she took the two clipboards back to her office.
‘No luck with your dad,’ Jennifer told Georgia a few minutes later. ‘I left a message on home, work and mobile numbers. Perhaps I should call your mother?’
Sam mucking around made Georgia feel less intimidated, but mentioning her mum sent stress levels back to max.
‘She’s a long way away,’ Georgia choked. ‘It’s not even ten o’clock. Dad’s probably driving. He’ll call back any minute.’
Georgia was relieved when the phone in the office rang, but feared a blast as Jennifer passed her the cordless handset.
‘Hey,’ Georgia said, squeezing her eyes shut in fear. But her dad’s voice wasn’t what she’d expected.
‘Cookie?’ he slurred. ‘You’re at the police station?’
‘Dad, are you drinking?’ Georgia queried.
‘So drunk,’ John agreed. ‘We lost the Metro Powerlines bid. Financial due diligence. The report said we lack the long-term financial stability to become a partner that provides mission-critical services …’
Georgia understood. One of her dad’s biggest fears was that Metro Powerlines would like his business proposal but prefer the security of working with a bigger company.
‘I’m winding it up,’ John said tearfully. ‘The business is kaput.’
Georgia felt tears welling in her eyes. ‘Dad, I’m really sorry … I know you’ve had a crap day, but can you listen? I’ve messed up really badly and I need your help.’
