Chapter Text
“He’s not one of ours,” Cameron stated, staring at the box television. They had, in fact, moved the suspects to Belmarsh and had broadcasted their faces on the news. The one who had claimed to be part of our gang definitely wasn’t.
Count on Cameron to know everything. He was functionally Mikkelsen’s assistant, so he kept track of spending, income, new members, the different branches of the company, et cetera. Nobody knew more about this gang than him, not even Mads.
He had his shoes kicked up onto the table, surrounded by various thick notebooks and snacking on some off-brand crisps. Not exactly the ideal image of a genius, but he was one, nonetheless. The notebooks were massive receipts of all the goings on within the company. So many hackers had searched to break into our database, but nobody knew it was all on paper, written by hand, by the man sitting in front of me in frilly pink clothes.
“What I don’t understand is why he’d claim to be,” I replied. Maybe an adoring fan carrying something out in our name? There were some who would be willing out there somewhere. What a crazy thought.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Clearly not, otherwise I wouldn’t have said anything. But whatever, he was allowed to lord his superiority over me. I was just the stupid salesman to him. At least I could actually talk to people, friendless idiot.
“Well, he’s obviously part of the other gang. See how none of them are women?”
Who would have seen something as arbitrary as that? By merit of not giving a fuck about people, I didn’t actually notice much about anybody. “Uh… yeah I saw that.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Coleheimer. Anyway, Zosia told me that the other gang hires no female runners, only male ones.”
“Feels a bit sexist to me. Isn’t the leader of that gang literally a woman.”
“It’s because she values women over men. She says that women are too precious to waste on running. She lets the men get hurt instead.”
“Is that… what is that? Reverse sexism? The fuck kind of ideology is that?” That was such a strange practice to subscribe to. We hired anyone and everyone, so long as they proved useful. She was just cutting out potential workers. Her loss.
Forget this conversation, I had a meeting I needed to get to. I said my goodbyes and picked my assorted bits off from his floor, before making my way out the door. There, I was greeted by a sweet-smiling woman who ran over to me from the kitchen unit.
“Are you not staying for dinner, deary? I have oven chips and I know how much you boys like to eat after a long school day.”
I laughed slowly. “No thank you, Mrs P. I have to get home to my parents. I really appreciate it, though.”
Another thing I forgot to mention! Cameron was a sixth former. He was running operations from his bedroom before and after school. His mother, darling Mrs P, thought I was a classmate of his. I told her I studied business, chemistry, and P.E. You could sort of say that by being a drug salesman, I did actually utilise those skills – just not in a school. Thinking on it, there was actually no person in my life I wasn’t lying to about myself in some way.
My friendship with him wasn’t weird. He was a work colleague and, funnily enough, I was only three years older than him. As well as that, I never exchanged illegal substances with him; he was in charge of a whole load of them, but he’d never touched them even once. I’d never offered either.
She let me out the door with a contented sigh and I made my way out of the apartment building. Everyone in this half of the city lived in an apartment or terrace; there were no singular houses. The West had to cram a lot of people into a small space.
And then my phone rang. I didn’t look at who it was before I brought it to my ear and said, “What on Earth do you want?”
“Okay, first off, rude.”
Shit. I knew who this was. “Sorry mate. I’m sorry. I just – I thought you were someone else.”
“Mate? Is that what you’re calling me now?”
“No, let’s not do this here. Let’s not have this discussion now.”
“Why not? So you can pretend like this never happened later?”
Yes, very much so, but there were also other reasons. I wasn’t going to tell him that though. “Dude. Dude, listen. Phone tapping.”
“Phone tapping?”
“Phone tapping.”
And, with a shocked squeak, he hung up on me. I didn’t want him to call me; we never called. I hated calling. But, yes, my phone calls were usually being listened to, either by allies or enemies. And by far as allies go, some would have called me a cold-hearted traitor for this.
Reader, honestly, on a commitment level – like an actual my-heart-is-in-it level, I was on neither side. The only reason I stayed physically under Mikkelsen was because I needed the money, and gang life isn’t really something you can just resign from. I couldn’t just walk into head office one day, give in my two weeks, and expect to be alive when that period is over. The only way I was leaving this business was in a wooden box.
The train station was about a twenty minute walk from Cameron’s place, and I spent every minute of that listening to those British pub classics you can never get away from. That was my kind of music – the stuff you can dance along to with a pint and sing along to in your own accent. Everyone knows the lyrics, those who don’t at least know the tune. It connected a country.
At the train station, I observed the underground rail map (all the trains here were underground). From here, I’d have to get the Theatre line to then connect to the Border line. It was odd, see, because that was the only one that crossed the city border. It was one train that came every half hour, because all it did was go straight back and forth between the single connection spots on either side. The Theatre line, like its namesake, got you to within a five minute walk to any theatre in the West. God, the train lines sure were named creatively.
Another example, just to rub it in, was the Out line. Why is it called that, I hear you ask. Because it runs on an outline of this half of the city. The fucking Out line.
I managed to jump on one pretty quickly, and I was in Neutral Ground Station within fifteen minutes. Though, honestly, it felt like the city didn’t want you crossing over, because you could only get to NGS from the Theatre line – it had no entrances or exits of its own – and they required you to do an airport-style ID check and pay an extra fee if you actually wanted to reach the part of the station with the border-crossing train. It was absurdity beyond my wildest belief.
With all that done, I arrived just in time for it to pull up, creaking loudly to a halt. It had remained underviced for probably about ten years now. This train was the worst of the worst. That’s fine, though; I still loved it. A few people stepped off silently, and I was the only one climbing on.
Being on a train completely by myself was the best feeling. I could dance and sing and nobody would care. I could run up and down the whole thing no problems, swing from the overhead bars, stand on the chairs. The whole thing was covered in graffiti of all sorts, stacking from years of neglect, so I sometimes enjoyed walking through with a snooty expression and judging their levels of artistry. “Oh yes, look at the colour work on this one,” I would say, doing my best impression of the Queen, “The pink mixes so well with the brown. And what does this say? Fa- oh shit I can’t say that… bundle of sticks. Ohoho how tasteful.”
I was allowed to be stupid sometimes.
After I left the eastern side of NGS, which did have its own exit, it was like walking into a completely different world. It almost felt like the sun was brighter and the grass was greener or something. The houses were bigger, and actually separate, and people walked around chattering to each other. It just generally looked more alive.
I found the nearest payphone and punched in the relevant number. “Darling, I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t bother cleaning or getting dressed up or anything. This is just casual.”
In a dumb sort of way, I couldn’t help but gawk at everything. I came to the East relatively often but every time I’m reminded just how drab the West is. This Vaikolaitiene woman was clearly doing something right.
***
A man in nothing but a pair of jogging bottoms opened the door as soon as I knocked. “Hi, love. Did you get the money I sent over?”
He hummed in agreement and let me into his house. “I’ll order some food for us,” he said. Honestly, there was nothing I wanted more; I had barely eaten all day, and I had rejected the food from Mrs P. I was willing to murder millions for a sit-down with a bag of chips with this boy.
“Toby, I’m putting on the television.”
“Put in the DVD sitting beneath it,” he shouted from the other room.
When I crouched down and slotted the disc into the player, the title screen for JoJo Rabbit popped up on screen, which I then selected to play. I laughed quietly at the stupid coincidence that, out of all the movies in the world, we had the same. It certainly made movie night a hell of a lot easier.
Then he sat back on the sofa, leaning against my shoulder. “Food ordered. Can we talk about earlier?”
“Mhm. Phone tapping. Everyone on my side is victim to it at the moment. Awful business, really. I blame that gang man. What’s his name? Michaelson?”
“No, I know, not that. I meant you calling me mate.”
“I can’t exactly call you darling over the phone, now, can I?”
“Why not?”
Well, for one, I wasn’t even supposed to be calling the other side in the first place, let alone going over there myself. Two, I was supposed to be Mikkelsen’s one or only. Or rather, he was supposed to be my one and only. Me having another “plaything” would send him into a wild rage which I’d probably be dead by the end of. Now, onto the secondary struggle: dearest Toby didn’t know I was involved in the whole gang thing. He’d probably break it off with me if he knew. I had to think of another reason.
“Because it’s illegal to be gay in the West.”
Shit. That just blatantly wasn’t true. He could easily look that up and disprove me. But weirdly, he looked genuinely saddened.
“Oh, love, why didn’t you tell me? That must be so hard for you. I had no idea. I mean, they say the West is bad, but I didn’t-”
“Oh yes, it’s so illegal, very illegal. They just don’t let anyone on the outside know because… because they’d get done for discrimination.”
To that, he nodded solemnly and wrapped his arms around me. I hoped to God that he couldn’t feel my heart beating a million miles a minute. Holy hell, that was close. Now I just had to make sure he never found out the truth. Easy peasy, nice and simple, I was going to lose my fucking boyfriend. It was fine.
“Do you want a beer or anything?” he asked.
“I don’t drink, remember?”
I represented myself as a shadow of my actual personality to everyone, just some people got different parts than others. I think this was the most perfect version of myself, quite flawless: no gangs, no alcohol or drugs, a victim of an oppressed life but still very much coping. I worked a high-paying corporate job that I got with my university degree, thus rendering me a sugar daddy of sorts. And I had a perfect boyfriend.
I slipped a ten euro note into his waistband. “You look so handsome today, my love.”
“Oh my God, you’re so stupid,” he laughed.
“Maybe I am. Oh well. At least you know you’re appreciated.”
And I was having such a great time until my fucking phone started ringing.
“Hang about, darling. I need to take this.”
Who was calling me, and now of all times? With a frustrated sigh, I stepped out into the kitchen and checked the name, which read ZOSIA in large letters. Begrudgingly, I put it to my ear and said, “What on earth do you want?”
“Yeah so, I tapped into your phone earlier and you seemed to be having some lover’s quarrel with some dude. What was that about? I would have asked you earlier, but I was busy.”
“It wasn’t a lover’s quarrel, and it wasn’t just some dude.”
“Sure… care to explain then?”
Right, okay, what could I say? He’s just a friend? I can’t have friends on the other side. He’s important, like a diplomat? Ah fuck.
“I was visiting a European Princess.” What? Why would I say that? Stupid brain pairing up with my stupid mouth. One of these days I was going to run myself off a cliff.
“That didn’t sound like a woman on the other end of the phone.”
What could I say to that? “First of all, how dare you. Just because she has some hormonal imbalances that doesn’t make her any less of a woman.” Oh my god.
“Lord, Christ, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it in that way. Yeah, I see why she was pressed over you calling her mate. Those are shocking manners, Coleheimer. Shouldn’t she be Your Highness or something?”
“That’s why I apologised. Now, you’re interrupting my diplomatic meeting. Fuck off, stalker.”
Zosia was our best spy. She could tap phones, hack into databases, and seamlessly blend into any given environment. Another genius that looked down on me, as well. Soon enough, with these very skills, she was probably going to find out that I was lying about the Princess thing… unless I did some fiddling.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket before rejoining Toby. “Work has really been getting on my nerves lately. They won’t get off my back.”
“That sounds so hard. Are they pressing you to do more unpaid overtime for that project in Bucharest?”
“So much more unpaid overtime! I know I earn a lot of money, but I don’t want to be doing more without getting the appreciation. Plus, I want to fit you into my life more.” Then I kissed his forehead and laid down on the sofa. Upon noticing the note still tucked into the waistband, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you keeping that in there?”
“Mmm… maybe. You could always put more in there, you know, if you wanted.”
“Could I now?” I asked, slotting a few more in there. “And what am I going to get for my generous donations?”
“Do you want to see?”
He stood up and started to dance, but really shittily, like unbelievably so. His arms were moving out in the wrong directions and, when he shimmied, there was nothing on him to shake. Under his breath, I could hear him whispering Hips Don’t Lie to himself.
If for no other reason, I wanted to grow out of the gang to spend my life with him.
***
“Hey, where are you going?” he asked, reaching his hand out to mine.
The bed was soft and warm, and I could have easily fallen back asleep again with him in my arms, but I needed to leave. If I stayed here for too long, I would be discovered, and I would never be able to see him again.
“The job wants me working weird hours. I have a business call with Australia in a few hours. I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s okay. You’ll be in my thoughts.” He leaned gently into me. “C’mere.” And we hugged. But I really needed to go, so I broke it off almost as soon as it started.
I shrugged my shirt on, along with a coat and a jumper, and quietly made my way out of his room. “I’ll miss you.”
“Yeah, I’ll miss you too.”
I didn’t see him nearly enough to justify the way I felt about him, especially when the rest of the world was so dead to me. I cherished what little time I had with him and prayed every day to someone that wasn’t there to give us more of a chance. I needed things to go well with him. What a stupid thing love was.
The Border line didn’t have a driver; the train was automatic. So even at two in the morning, I could get onto one with relatively little problem. The Theatre line, however, didn’t start up again until four. But that was fine because I knew how to navigate the underground on foot. If I hopped onto the tracks and walked about twenty paces in the wrong direction, I would come across a small hole in the wall, about half the size of the average person, that I could walk into. There, I could pretty much make a beeline for Quarter D, my quarter. Man, I loved the catacombs.
It took about half an hour to get there, my path lit by small overhead lights every few meters. And when I came back to the surface, I could just hop the gate and make my way home. Sure, it had been a late night, but when was it not? I was just ready to collapse onto my bed and dream about him. Dreaming wasn’t as good as the real thing by a long shot, but it would have to do. When people randomly rocked up to my address in the earliest hours of the morning, it would be wrong of me not to be there. It would be suspicious of me to not be there.
And if I could have a lie-in, that would be just great. But I doubted the current social climate surrounding me was going to let that happen.