At around midday, Charlotte was packing an overnight bag when her phone rang. After the frenzy of calls earlier that morning, her phone had been quiet for a couple of hours, and she watched it vibrating on the bedside table a moment. It stopped and then rang again and now Charlotte looked at the screen. It was an anonymous number. Her pulse began to race as she sensed this had something to do with Peter’s arrest.
She touched the receive icon.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice said, “Your husband is alive.”
Charlotte’s throat went dry. “Who is this?”
“You can call me Luke.”
Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed.
“Can you help him?”
“No. But I know who can.”
“Who?”
“Somebody you know too.”
Somebody I know?
Luke said, “There is a Toyota SUV parked opposite your apartment building. It will wait for another ten minutes. If you want to see your husband again, I suggest you get in it.”
He hung up and Charlotte stared at her phone screen.
What the fuck was that?
She got up and peered out through the curtains. Sure enough, a black Toyota was parked on the other side of the road. A uniformed policeman was leaning against the hood, smoking a cigarette. This wasn’t a hoax.
Shit.
Ten minutes.
***
Thomas’s phone pinged and he checked the message.
Luke.
She’s on her way.
Curiously, Thomas discovered that he was nervous. It was as if all the intervening years had been stripped away and he had regressed back to that bumbling idiot of a boy that had made such a fool of himself in front of everyone at college.
He got up and examined himself in front of the mirror. He had changed out of his uniform since returning from Civic Headquarters, and he was now wearing gray pinstripe slacks, black brogues, and a crisp white shirt with an official silver and gray Res Publica necktie. He held up his hand and waited until it stopped shaking. This was ridiculous. Yes, the amazing Charlotte Dray–or Blanchard, as she was called these days–was actually coming to his house, but everything had changed since college. He had the power now, and it was she that needed something from him.
Thomas adjusted his tie and thought back to the conversation he had earlier had with Peter Blanchard. Even under such worrying circumstances, the arrogant prick had still found a way to look down his nose at him, but when Thomas had informed him that he would be meeting with Charlotte that afternoon, Peter had become so agitated that Thomas had called a couple of guards to take him to his cell. As he was being led away in handcuffs, Peter had repeatedly asked Thomas why he needed to talk to Charlotte. Thomas had remained silent. He wanted to let the handsome Peter Blanchard stew in his little cell and allow his imagination to run riot. But he doubted that Peter could ever conceive of the delicious torment that Thomas had in store for his beautiful young wife!
***
Thomas hung a few yards behind her in the passage, but not so far back that he wouldn’t be able to act swiftly when Luke did his thing. It was crowded with students moving between classes and when Thomas saw Luke coming toward them, he closed the gap on Charlotte, ready to make his move. Luke spotted her and began to charge forward, pushing a couple of girls out of the way. It should have been a simple enough play. Luke would barge into Charlotte, knocking her books out of her hands and Thomas would be immediately on hand to pick them up for her and finally get her attention.
But as Luke came barreling toward them, a fat girl suddenly appeared out of nowhere, filling the space between Charlotte and Thomas. Panicking, Thomas gave the fat girl a shove just as Luke banged into Charlotte. The fat girl spun around and the lunch bag she was carrying flew out of her grasp and into the air.
The moment before impact would remain painfully etched in Thomas’s memory for the rest of his life. The bag splitting open in mid-air, the fruit and sandwiches spilling out onto the floor, the plastic cup dropping from the fat girl’s fingers, the lid coming off–the chocolate milk.
Charlotte hadn’t even dropped her books as Thomas skidded on a banana–a banana!–landing on one knee with his arm stretched out as if he were proposing marriage–and his entire head was then covered with chocolate milk!
There was a shocked silence in the passage and then a girl tittered. Another one chuckled and then somebody roared out loud, and soon everybody was laughing at him. Mortified, Thomas blinked up through the sticky chocolate and saw that Charlotte was giggling too.
***
The Toyota pulled up in a leafy suburb on the far side of the city and the uniformed policeman got out and opened Charlotte’s door. He hadn’t said a word since she had made the decision to get into the vehicle, and Charlotte decided it would be prudent not to question him.
During the drive across town, Charlotte had tried to figure out who could possibly be behind this meeting. The mysterious Luke had said it was somebody Charlotte knew. But who? Since the takeover, she had made a point to avoid as much contact with the new Corporate Government as possible–just like any other normal person who hoped to survive this madness.