CHAPTER NINETEEN: YOUR POLITICS BORE ME

Richard Maxwell was considered a bit of a renaissance man in the political world. His Eton education, learning Latin, did not predetermine his career. So, the senior figures in the sphere found him new, strange, and scary. Much like the same way the very same people viewed Islam, the Obama Administration, and Dr. Derwent. Upon thinking about it, the latter was quite reasonable.Derwent might have been the first Health Secretary with medical experience. He blinked too little. His overly polite smile made people think he was about to go for their neck.Giving Derwent that position was his fault entirely. One that did lead to the collapse of civilisation. Had he not been hiding in a bunker in Cornwall at the time of the outbreak, he might have been lynched. And lynched he should have been. Any politician responsible for a deadly pandemic should step down from living. Or as his brother put it, next time he put the nation second, he should put an, r, e, s, i and g first. But he found that he couldn't even if he wanted to, not if the people had their way. Now he had the PM tag stuck on him for life. Hence why Collins stumbled into Hamley's with his hand split in two, with Johns right beside him."You won't bloody believe what just happened—an old geezer got his hawk and claymore on me after I told him that he couldn't see you—""It was a falcon. But he's right, some of Xing's men were after you again. We need better defenses, or a backup base of operations." Johns said, helping the sergeant down to sit on a beanbag."Right, right. I do have Clark working on taking cone shutters off of shop fronts and putting them in front of the doors. Plus, he's already got a dynamo hooked up to the mains." Richard said, sitting on the counter. He was holding a candy cane, fiddling with the wrapper. The expiry date was 2025. Yet he had a feeling the sweet itself contained more toxic chemicals than the wrapper. But he didn't care. It was peppermint flavor."And that's very nice, Richard, but we need a plan B.""It would be very nice if we had finished setting up Plan A first. We have food, power, and defense, Steve. What more could you need right now?""A medkit, to start with. We can't have a soldier without a good gun hand. Plus, we need a radio." Johns said, his hand resting on his hips.As if on cue, Clark strutted through the door, holding a roll of segmented metal shutter. "Radio's behind the counter, made with it with the Hot Wires set from the board games bit upstairs. Dick, where did you need this to go?""Door to the right. Any gap, just use chicken wire or those construction fences if you can find any. Save for the left, and windows, resources permitting."Clark nodded, helping himself to a candy cane after setting the stuff on the floor. "Got it. Sundown's in an hourish, though. I'll get to it tomorrow morning, promise. As soon as the bandits start screaming."Richard had no idea how his brother did it, just rolling with the punches like that. It was amazing to watch, in all honesty. Getting on with things, even when things wouldn't get on with him. He wondered how many blighters and bandits Clark had fought to reach that shop. And how he'd removed the shutter without power tools.Meanwhile, Johns was fiddling with the radio. He pushed the button and swirled the signal wire, trying to get a good reading. The moment he thought he struck gold, it all went to static again."Captain Harw- Thames- East-"Bzzt. There it was again."Help-fection, it's getting to me- in the British Library."Bzzt. Click. Woosh. The other men watched, listening in."Mista Xin- this is- ames. Alco. warehouse, Sunday Sundow- there or be square."And there it was, that crackling vein of airwave gold. Some sort of deal with Xing at the Alco. warehouse. There was a few in London, but Johns knew which one. White 1ty, not far from the BBC Television Center. It was the biggest, and it wasn't the closest either, so Xing was at no risk of giving away his location. Sunday was tomorrow. They had a whole day to work with."Hey Clark? Y'know how you're some sort of engineer?"Electrician.""Same difference. I'm going to ask this bluntly, and I won't be concerned if you answer yes.""Alright then, what is it that you need building? I know it's gotta be something dumb now, ain't it?""It depends. Do you find explosives dumb?" Johns asked, managing to ask this with a straight face. It sounded stupid to him, for no clear reason."No. What kind do you need? Pipe bomb? Pen bomb? Molotov? Plastic explosive?"Richard blinked."Clark, now on God's green earth do you know how to make plastic explosives?" "Well, remember when I was waiting for my GCSE results when we were young?""And the shed burned down and we all just blamed it on some sort of gas leak?"Clark only nodded. He let Richard connect the dot himself."Why am I not surprised." He said, rolling his eyes, finally coaxing open that candy cane wrapper and slipping it into his mouth. Collins was polishing his Desert Eagle. He noted a resemblance to Sherlock Holmes and his pipe upon looking up at Richard."What do you think only all explosives and their recipes are military only thing?""Well yes- same way rocket launchers and cool codenames are.""Nope. It's just nine parts Vaseline and-""One part potassium chlorate," Clark finished off. "And I can make a mortar out of a bit of chunky pipe. As for the codenames, you just need imagination. Actually—Sergeant?""Yeah?""What was your codename?""Macduff."Clark sailed smugly at Richard, and Johns stood over the radio, ruminating. "See? Shakespeare? The lord who killed foul Macbeth?""Fine, you win. Just remember to help Steve with the whole warehouse thing, yeah?""Will do. Till then, I'll be having a look-see around the staff-only bits. Gonna see if I can find a tool, or some stupid toy that'll cop out a laugh. Speaking of..." He trailed off, reaching from his back basket pocket. In his hands was a rubber chicken. "..you're going to love this."He squeezed it, and a dart slipped out of it, narrowly missing Richard's head. "Is this really how we're taking down Piers, Dick?" Collins asked."I think so, unfortunately."