TIME TO SERVE: CH 2 PREVIEW
CHAPTER TWO
Marseille France, Wednesday August 13th 2262
12:30:13 hours (local time)
...disturbing news there from Somerset. Just to recap. A senior member of the government, the head of the English War Assembly, has been allegedly raped in her own home and her fiancé physically assaulted in the process. A Mr Simon R Kingsley, whom we have just found out works at The Northampton Museum of Humanity, has been apprehended in connection with the alleged crime. We will bring you more on that story and the rest of the day's news in the next bulletin at 12:00 hours. This has been Hoagy Benedict, with the BBC News Audio Broadcast...
"Stop broadcast," Bridget Kingsley muttered with a quavering voice. She had been baking muffins for Simon and had just placed the last one on the rack to cool when she'd heard the news. Bridget felt her knees begin to buckle so grabbed hold of the counter for a moment or two before rushing to the sofa and collapsing onto it. She raised a trembling left hand to her open mouth and then let it fall to her bosom, subconsciously grasping at the gold crucifix that lay over her cream blouse. Her heart beat rapidly and her breaths became heavy and loud. Her mind raced; random thoughts bombarded her head. Was this her Simon? It must be. It hadn't been three hours since he had sent her the audio message; he had sounded very happy in that. The broadcast she had just heard though stated the the news was just breaking. Was this Hillary Jane the woman he was with last night? Did she recognise the woman's voice from the few words she had heard when she had spoken to Simon?
Bridget searched on her strap for recent photos of Hillary Jane Bartlett, head of The English War Assembly. Within seconds thirty to forty photos appeared. Bridget quickly skimmed through a handful of them. Her heart sank; this was the same woman she had seen with Simon. She dropped her wrist to her lap. Her worst fears had been confirmed - this had to be her Simon...was he capable of rape and assault? It made her feel sick just to think of it. Surely her little boy couldn't have done the things this woman had said?
Bridget thought back to the projection call from the previous night. Something didn't quite add up. Hillary Jane had been all over Simon...He was sat in her lounge enjoying a drink with her; not rampaging from room to room in a drunken state. If Simon had planned to attack her, surely he wouldn't have answered a call. There had been no sign of her fiancé either; he had been out with his brother according to the broadcast. Why was this woman lying? What did she have against Simon? Would she see her son again?
The antique clock on the wall sounded like it was ticking louder and faster than normal, as if mocking her in some way. The surrounding walls towered above her and seemed to be closing in on her from above; the ceiling was a million miles away as she looked up. She felt claustrophobic, as if she was going to be crushed. TICK, TICK, TICKTICKTICK!
Bridget rose from the sofa in a panic. She struggled to catch her breath. There was no air in the room. She rushed across the lounge and onto the veranda, grabbing at furniture as she went; terrified that her legs would give way. She took some long deep breaths from the hot summer air as she clung to the rusty white railing.
The light breeze made her feel a little better and her anxiety faded as she paced up and down the veranda trying to work out what had really happened the previous night.
After a few minutes she came to the conclusion that Hillary Jane must have asked Simon back to her house after the night out in New York. After a few sociable drinks in the lounge they had ended up in bed, something she tried not to dwell on too much. At some point the fiancé came home and caught them in the act. The woman cried rape and a fight ensued between Simon and the fiancé.
Bridget stopped in her tracks. She knew her son wasn't capable of the dreadful things he was being accused of. She felt marginally better now that she had things straight in her head. The feeling quickly subsided though - who was going to believe Simon's innocence against the so-called respected head of The England War Assembly?
She had to get to Yorkshire, England and the National Government Police Station. She needed to help him sort out this terrible mess. She would make a statement to the GPA, they could prove she had called him just before the so-called rape, and this horrid woman's lies would be revealed once and for all.
Bridget gingerly made her way back inside. The lounge was back to its normal state. The clock ticked the time away peacefully at its regular speed and volume. She breathed a sigh of relief as she headed for her bedroom. She slipped out of her floral summer skirt and changed into a pair of black culottes; she wanted to have a less casual and more formal look. After refreshing her Autumnal Sunset lipstick, pink blusher and giving herself a few sprays of Lavamour, she called up the port number for the station in Yorkshire; this would save some time then when she got to the teleporter. A few moments later an available number came back. Bridget reserved the slot and hurried up her hallway to the front door, she had eight minutes and forty-one seconds before the slot expired. She placed her thumb on the pad next to the door to release it. The pad gave an error buzz and the door remained closed. Bridget sighed; she didn't have time for this today. It took another three attempts before the door finally slid aside. Perhaps she should have taken Simon up on his kind offer to get the system repaired, she thought, as she started her descent down the eight flights of stairs.
Bridget stepped out of the apartment block and onto Place du Général De Gaulle. A small gathering of journalists rushed over to her as she did, preventing her from progressing any further.
"Mrs Kingsley, did you know your son has been charged with rape?" one blonde woman asked. Her colleague, a younger man in a blue jacket thrust a finger-cam in front of her hoping to catch the look on her face.
The blonde journalist was jostled out of the way by an older woman with red hair. "Mrs Kingsley, how do you feel about your son being charged with violent rape and physical assault? Another finger-cam was thrust at her.
Bridget tried to force her way through the throng but gained less than a metre. Without the front of the apartment block behind her she quickly became surrounded by journalists who barked questions at her from all angles.
"Do you think it's right that your son is working with children?"
"Has he been convicted of rape or assault before?"
"Why did he leave Bristol for Northampton?"
"Has he ever knocked you about Mrs Kingsley?"
"Mrs Kingsley, why did his father walk out on you both?"
Bridget started to panic. She couldn't move and the questions were horrifying. She started to get short of breath, tears streamed down her face.
"Please, let me go...my son is innocent," she gasped, trying in vain to push herself forward. Her head was spinning.
"Mrs Kingsley, what was your son doing in New York?"
"Will you disown him when he gets sent down?"
"LEAVE HER ALONE YOU VULTURES," shouted a familiar female voice.
The journalists went quiet and turned their attention towards the source of the noise.
Bridget had never been so relieved to see her neighbour Julie, who lived in the apartment opposite her.
Julie was a tall, large-busted black woman with dreadlocks down to her voluptuous buttocks. She was a good twenty years younger than Bridget. They had been neighbours for a number of years and spent a lot of time together.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY," Julie screamed as she barged her way through the journalists not caring who she knocked out of the way. "YOU'RE TERRIFYING THE POOR WOMAN."
Julie reached Bridget just as she broke down. "Tha...thank you...Julie," Bridget sobbed as Julie put an arm around her waist to hold her up before she collapsed.
"Let me get you upstairs," Julie said kindly, concerned about the state of her neighbour.
"No, I need to get to the...teleporter," Bridget gasped. "I must get to the station and help my Simon; I need to talk to the GPA."
"Are you sure you are up to it?" Julie asked with a frown.
"Yes; help me get there Julie. I can't get past...these monsters."
"Ok Bridge; I'm coming with you though."
"Thanks Julie, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't turned up." Fresh tears ran down her face at the kindness of her neighbour and friend.
The journalists started their questions again.
"Mrs Kingsley, what do you hope to achieve in England at the station?"
A tall man in a green blazer and dark trousers surged forward. "Mrs Kingsley, Mike Falmer; Daily Blether, doesn't every mother say her son is innocent?" he smirked.
Julie took one look at him and with her free hand punched him straight in the face. He fell to the floor amid a ripple of gasps and chuckles from his fellow press members.
"OUT OF OUR WAY," Julie yelled as she pushed forward with Bridget; not bothering to look back at Mike Falmer who lay on his back holding his jaw.
The journalists separated and let them through. The two women quickened their pace, Julie still holding Bridget up as they went. The press followed at a safe distance; finger-cams aloft recording everything.
After a couple of minutes they reached the public teleporter adjacent to the merry-go-round.
Julie removed her arm from Bridget's waist. "Are you sure you are up to this Bridge?"
Bridget leant against the side of the teleporter, the tinny music from the merry-go-round played loudly. "Yes Julie, I need to do this. I have vital information I need to give to the GPA; it can't wait."
"OK love, but I'm going to follow on. You're not going to do this alone. Innocent until proven guilty is my motto."
Bridget smiled at her friends reassuring words. "I've got the number of the station on my strap already."
"Prepared as always," Julie said with a grin.
Bridget quickly went through the port procedure and stepped inside the teleporter. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes and face.
"I'm coming right after you," Julie confirmed as the door slid shut.
Seconds later Bridget was gone.
-----
The teleporter door swung open. Bridget stepped out onto a busy port floor filled with hundreds of teleporters. The sight stunned her a bit; she had never seen so many in one place before. Visitors and smartly dressed GPA officers in their uniform bustled around going about their business. Bridget looked around her, oblivious to the fact that she had just been scanned and cleared of carrying a weapon of any sort. The port floor felt stark and clinical, as though it was just there to serve its function and nothing else; it wasn't very inviting at all.
"Welcome to the National Government Police Station Mrs Kingsley, I'm your meet-and-greet officer. How can I help you?"
Bridget spun round to see an attractive male officer with black bushy eyebrows smiling at her. He was young enough to be her son. His navy weapon-proof jacket and matching trousers looked like they had been put on for the first time today. The navy flat cap, with inbuilt weapon displacement force field, really finished off the uniform; the customary black and white chequered band around it was in keeping with the time old tradition of the uniform.
Bridget glanced at his breast pocket; the small flexible screen woven into the fabric received information from his dat-com strap and displayed his photogram and identity printed below. GPO Jerome Gardener.
"I have come about my son; you have apprehended him. I have vital information about his innocence," Bridget stated boldly.
"I see. What's his name Mrs Kingsley?"
"Simon Kingsley."
GPO Gardener touched the display screen on his breast pocket and lowered his head towards it slightly. "Search Simon Kingsley," he said clearly. "Shouldn't be too long," he added with a kind smile.
Within seconds his dat-com strap pulsed. He raised his wrist and read the information on the display. His smile slowly slipped from his face.
"Oh," he said to himself inadvertently. He hadn't seen or heard the news in the last few hours and as he read the details he realised just how big the case was.
He looked up at Bridget and smiled. "If you would like to come with me I will take you to the officer in charge of the case."
Bridget followed GPO Gardener across the busy floor towards the traversolls set into the west wall. She felt a little uneasy on top of her other emotions now; had she been recognised somehow? Were people pointing at her behind her back with pity or scorn? She turned several times en route to check; there were too many people around her to say for certain.
"Here we are," said GPO Gardener as they reached the long line of traversolls.
The motion detector picked up his presence. "Traversoll thirteen will be with you in seventeen seconds," a strong male voice stated, in what seemed a cold blunt tone to Bridget.
"This way," GPO Gardener said, indicating with his thumb that they needed a traversoll further up the line.
Bridget followed his lead and they stopped in front of a pair of white doors that had the number thirteen painted in small black letters on the left door. GPO Gardener smiled again as they waited.
He felt the silence a little awkward but he didn't know what to say. What do you say to the mother of the man who had just been breaking news all over the world? He felt quite sorry for her, the poor woman, having to face her son's charges like this.
The doors slid aside and Bridget followed the officer into the empty carriage. He pressed his thumb against the pad adjacent to the doors as they closed.
"Good morning GPO Jerome Gardener, please state your destination," the same cold male voice greeted them.
GPO Gardener glanced at his strap to check the location of the officer in charge. "Interrogation, floor two."
"The route for the journey to interrogation, floor two, will be clear to commence in one twenty-six seconds, the journey time will be twenty-eight seconds," the male voice stated.
Bridget shuddered at the thought of her son being interrogated.
The two stood in silence for a good fifteen seconds. GPO Gardener couldn't bear the silence any longer. "What lovely weather we have had lately," he said more jovially than he felt; he cringed a little at being reduced to making conversation about the weather. It was an English tradition that went back centuries though, one that served well in awkward situations like this.
"Yes, hasn't it," Bridget replied as the traversoll came to life and the journey started.
"Set to last ten or eleven days too," GPO Gardener replied with a smile.
Bridget half smiled, not sure what to say.
"Won't be long now," he said, feeling that every second felt like an hour.
The rest of the journey passed without another word between them. They both stared directly in front of them, wishing the journey would end, for their own individual reasons.
Bridget recalled the scene with the press outside her apartment block. The news had barely broken and there they were. Breaker Response Correspondents, they were officially called by their respective employers; Vultures they were known as by everyone else. These journalists were hired by each media outlet to monitor the world's news. Within seconds of a story breaking they would research for an angle and then port to wherever they thought they could pick up some tastier morsels. It paid to be the first ones there; early birds were known to get the best stories and interviews. Hence the reason they were known as vultures.
The traversoll came to a halt and the doors opened. "Interrogation, floor two."
Bridget was confronted with a large open area that seemed endless as they stepped out onto the level. What she noticed more than anything else was the fact that nearly everything was white. The floor was a matt white stone; the walls and the high ceiling above her were also white, but a slightly lighter shade. She followed her meet and greet officer to a large white four-sided, fabric fronted reception counter with rounded off corners. It was situated right in the middle of the expanse. Unlike the port floor Bridget could easily count the few people that went about their business. Around the perimeter of the floor were more white doors than she could count. Periodically one would open and an officer would come out, only to disappear again through another.
Four officers in the same uniform as GPO Jerome Gardener were working in the space within the reception counter. The thirty seconds it took to walk from the traversoll to the counter were highlighted noisily as Bridget's heeled sloes clicked and clacked across the stone floor. As they approached, a short pretty female officer named Azalia Florence looked up and greeted them with a smile.
"Hello Jerome," she said sweetly.
"Hi Azzy," he said with a familiarity which led Bridget to believe they were more than just colleagues.
"We are after GPI Harvey; is he still in interrogation room 101?" GPO Gardener asked.
"Yes, I believe so," GPO Florence replied, "he's not a happy man."
"Oh?" GPO Gardener said with a frown.
She leaned over the counter and lowered her voice so that Bridget wouldn't hear; he moved forward.
"It's about the media coverage of the Kingsley case already," she half whispered. "He's barely started his interrogation and the victims have been all over the media with a live interview."
"Oops," GPO Gardener said, pulling an exaggerated grimace. "I have Kingsley's mother here. She has information for Harvey apparently."
GPO Florence looked past her colleague and smiled at Bridget who was a few paces behind him.
"Show her to the waiting room and go down to 101," she said, turning back to him. "Check if he's able to see her."
"Okay, see you later," he said with a wink.
GPO Azalia Florence blushed as she busied herself behind the counter.
GPO Gardener turned to Bridget. "If you would like to sit in our waiting room I will find out if GPI Harvey can see you. It's in line with the reception counter on the far wall; you can't miss it," he said indicating the general direction of the room with his hand.
"I would rather wait here thank you," Bridget replied swiftly.
"Oh, okay," GPO Gardener said, a little taken aback. "I will find GPI Harvey and be right back."
With that he left her by the counter and walked leisurely over to the far left wall. Bridget watched as he got further and further away and appeared to shrink in size. He approached a door and went inside as it slid open. Bridget strained her eyes to see if she could see into the room. Was her son in there? It was too far away to see anything but a dark blur. The door closed again. Moments later it reopened and two officers stepped out. She couldn't tell which one was Jerome Gardener as they were so far away. One of them pointed at her and then the other one went back into the room, the door closed again. The officer walked back towards her. She soon recognised the figure as GPO Gardener. Minutes later he was by her side again.
"GPI Harvey is unable to see you right now," he informed her. "Someone will be in touch with you later on today to arrange an interview with him tomorrow."
Bridget's face fell. "It is vital that I see him now, my son is innocent and I can prove it!" Grief hit the back of her throat in a gnarled lump which made it harder to breathe. She fought back her tears; she had to stay strong for her boy.
"I'm sorry Mrs Kingsley, I really am. Someone will call you very soon and you can spend as long as you like with GPI Harvey tomorrow." He looked at her grief stricken face and felt a pang of empathy. "If he can see you any sooner then you will be the first to know. Now let me get you back to the port floor, no need for you to hang around here any longer than necessary."
He put his hand on her shoulder and led her towards the traversoll. Before she knew it they were stepping out of the traversoll and were on the busy port floor again.
"Bridge!" came a familiar voice.
Bridget looked up. She had nearly walked straight into Julie who was waiting to get into the traversoll she had just exited.
"What's happening?" Julie asked.
"I have to come back tomorrow when I'm called," Bridget said with a heavy sigh.
"That's not on," Julie said indignantly, turning to GPO Gardener. "My friend needs to see someone now!"
"I'm sorry madam but that just isn't possible," GPO Gardener replied; feeling a little intimidated by the presence of this large woman before him.
"Leave it Julie," Bridget said, noting the glare that Julie was giving the young GPO; she had seen that glare before. "Just get me home will you love."
"Okay Bridge," Julie said, not taking her eyes off GPO Gardener.
"Let me take you to an available teleporter ladies," he said uncomfortably, checking the availability on his strap. "This way."
He led the women to a teleporter a few rows away. "This one is free for the next seven minutes."
"Thank you," Bridget replied. Julie completely ignored him.
"I'll leave you to it," he said, turning and walking away briskly before Julie intimidated him further.
"I'll go first," Julie informed Bridget, "that way I can fend off any Vultures that happen to be about."
Bridget smiled. "Thanks Julie."
Within a minute both women were back in Marseille in front of the teleporter by the merry-go-round.
"Here goes," Julie declared putting an arm around her friend's waist. There were even more journalists than earlier milling around outside the apartment block.
The two women strode forward and were spotted within seconds. The press surged forward like a stampede of wild buffalo.
"Mrs Kingsley, have you seen your son?"
"Has he confessed all to his mother Mrs Kingsley?"
"Is he showing any remorse yet for his actions Mrs Kingsley?"
"LEAVE US ALONE," Julie screamed as they pushed through the crowd once again.
They made it to the apartment's entrance.
"Let's get you upstairs for a nice cup of tea Bridge."
Bridget looked at her friend as they started the long climb to the top floor. "I need something a lot stronger than tea love."