Kingdom: The Complete Series (8 page)

“
Where's
the King?” he slurs.

Jamie is still staring,
the gun raised to greet this new arrival. Coated in dust, purple and yellow
with bruises, the naked man's eyes travel from Jamie's raised pistol to the two
dead men on the floor, and back to Jamie. He then raises a hand as though he were
calming a wild animal.

“
Put
the gun down man,” the man says, his wild red eyes filled with realisation.

“
Who
are you?” asks Jamie.

“
I'm...”
the man hesitates, running a hand over his bruised head as though he has
forgotten a line and is trying to remember. “I'm a janitor. Where's the King?”

Jamie lowers the
pistol.

“
He's
right here,” he pulls Chloe out of the way to let the naked janitor see the
prone figure of the King.

His eyes have settled
on the two warm corpses.

“
Who
were they?” he points to the bodies.

Jamie says nothing, and
Chloe emerges from behind him.

“
They
were his men. They tried to kill us.”

The janitor seems to be
making a decision, rubbing his eyes as though it's been a long day.

“
You're
not one of the King's men?”

After a brief pause,
Jamie looks down at the King and shrugs.

“
No.”

“
And
this is the King?”

Jamie nods.

“
Wow,
that was easy,” the janitor shrugs and walks between them. The King tries to
shuffle away, but the janitor reaches down and grabs him by the collar. “You're
coming with me.”

Jamie's nose screws up
at the reek of stale alcohol that pours off the heavily bruised, scar-riddled
man. His eyebrows are raised in disbelief as the janitor lifts the King
one-handed, and Chloe is watching the man in fascination as he begins to walk
down the hallway without a care, heading for the steel blockade.

“
What
are you going to do with him?” Jamie watches the janitor sling the King over
his shoulder like a child, and the crime-lord sags and gives up.

“
I'm
going to take him downstairs to be arrested by somebody,” the janitor turns
back, pausing. “I'll be damned if I can't find one honest policeman to take him
into custody.”

“
Arrest
him?”
Jamie starts forward before Chloe grabs his wrist
and holds him back. “The police are in his pocket, they'll ignore you.”

“
I've
got to try.”  The janitor looks at the pistol hanging by Jamie's side and
raises an eyebrow. “What else can I do? Shoot him?”

Jamie looks at the gun
in his hands and lets out a tense breath. He drops the gun and it clatters to
the floor.

“
Look
–“ Jamie begins, but the janitor walks away. “Hey, that door is metal, you
won't get...”

Jamie stops talking as
the janitor approaches the steel shutter and lifts a foot. His bare foot
crashes through the steel as though it were tin foil. He kicks it a few more
times and it crashes off the hinges.

“
What
the hell,” Chloe begins, and Jamie pulls her forward, following the janitor.

“
Hey,
wait -” Jamie starts.

The janitor turns, an
eyebrow raised. His face, though slim and worn, exudes a stubborn kind of
friendliness – he has the look of a man who knows that he cannot be harmed.

“
Yes?”

“
You...”
Jamie tries to put it into words, but finds that all he can say is, “you too?
The fire, right?”

The janitor's face
straightens, and he lowers his head.

“
The
fire, yeah,” he says with a firm confidence. His eyes fall on Jamie's nose, and
he points. “You're bleeding.”

“
Yeah,
I know,” Jamie says, wiping his nose absent mindedly. Only now does he notice
the crusted, dried blood around the janitor's nostrils and upper lip. “We both
are”

“
I'll
be fine if I can get a drink,” he says, and Jamie frowns in confusion. “I
think. Let's get this bastard into a prison cell and then we can figure it all
out. If anybody starts shooting at us, just stay behind me.”

The janitor steps over
the crumpled steel door and Jamie follows after him. Chloe pulls on his wrist,
making him pause.

“
Chloe
-”

“
Is
he drunk?” she whispers, her eyes darting to the janitor as he walks away.

Jamie can't take his
eyes off the mottled and bruised back of the peculiar, fearless janitor.

“
Uh
– yeah, I'm pretty sure he's wasted.”

Episode
6

Trespasser

The building's lobby is
a long rectangle of warm-lit marble and sleek, dark wood, with a claret rug
running from the wide staircase, between the stone pillars, to the panelled
double doors leading outside.

Mark, wearing nothing
but his ragged underwear and carrying a struggling, protesting King over his
shoulder, strolls down the steps and into the lobby, where a group of tense,
armed men in suits are waiting.

They all spin towards
him in surprise as he appears.

“
Hello
everybody,” he grins announcing his presence.

There are shouts of
alarm, gunshots and panicked protests, followed by the heavy thud of bone on
flesh. Then everything is quiet again – even the King.

“
Ok,”
Mark shouts, “you can come down now.”

Jamie takes Chloe's
hand and leads her down the stairs, keeping their bodies pressed to the left
wall as his eyes scan the room. Right enough, he sees the janitor standing in
the centre with the King still hanging over his shoulder. Unconscious men lie
scattered in various states of disrepair around the room. There are bullet
holes in the marble and wisps of gun smoke trailing their way across the lobby.

“
You're
bullet proof too?” Jamie cranes his neck to check behind the pillars, certain
that the King's men would not go down so easily.

“
Kind
of,” the janitor looks down at his bruised torso and notes a small smear of
blood on his abdomen. He uses his one free hand to check that it's his, and
when he wipes the blood away he finds a hair thin paper-cut lacing across his
skin. “I think it depends on how much I've drank.”

“
Your
nose...” Chloe nods towards Mark.

He raises a hand to his
nose in alarm, and brings it away wet with blood.

“
I
think I need a drink,” he mutters, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes.

“
You
look pretty beat up; what happened to you?” Jamie asks him as he kneels over
one of the unconscious men, lifting a compact machine pistol from their hands.

“
Lots
of people shot me,” the janitor laughs. “Didn't do much, but yeah.” He points
to the larger, purple bruises on his ribs. “These ones came from a helicopter
and everything.”

Jamie and Chloe
exchange a questioning look, and Jamie shrugs.

“
So
what's the plan?” Chloe asks the janitor.

“
I
open the door and throw this man outside,” he pats the unconscious King's head
like a misbehaving child, “and then demand that the police – or those soldiers,
whoever they are – arrest him.”

At this, the janitor
heaves the King up and drops him to the ground, where he slumps and groans,
waking once more. The King rubs his head, his eyes cringed shut and his mouth
curled down in a grimace. His exquisite suit is a crumpled, creased mess.

“
I
don't think your plan is going to work mate,” says Jamie. He stands and takes
Chloe's hand in his, the machine pistol in his other.

“
Why
not?” the janitor kneels down over the King and grabs him by the lapels, so
that when his eyes open he will be the first thing he sees.

“
Because
the King
owns
the police in Glasgow. They won't take him in and if they
do, they'll release him without question.”

“
Yeah,
I know,” the janitor shrugs. “But that's because they're afraid of the
repercussions. If he's been defeated then there's nothing to fear. The very act
of taking him in should dispel...” the janitor trails off as he notices Jamie's
frustrated expression. “What aren't I being told, here?”

Jamie points to the
groggy figure in the suit.

“
He's
not the King.”

“
What?
But you told me -”

“
He's
a
King. Understand? There's more than one. Body doubles. Devoted actors
and trusted men who act on his behalf. Running a city like this from behind the
scenes like the King does: it makes sense that he wouldn't do it all by
himself.”

The janitor stands up
and drops the King, who brings a hand up to his eyes as they open.

“
Ugh,
am I still -”

The janitor sighs and
gives the King's head a half-hearted kick as he walks past him. With a dull
crack, the King falls silent once more.

“
I'm
sorry,” says Jamie.

“
I
have to get to the King – the real one – before those men in black take me in.
I can't keep fighting and running, they'll get me again sooner or later. I'll
run out of drink, or they'll catch me at a bad moment, or - ”

“
They
got you before?”

The janitor nods,
staring down at the King's limp form as his mind works.

“
I
think they're called Trespassers. Special forces of some kind. One of them got
me on a rooftop, fired this expanding foam stuff at my face. I suffocated and
passed out. It was horrible,” he shudders. “I may be bullet proof, but
apparently I still need to breathe. They scanned me with all this scientific
stuff and decided that if I didn't get a lot of alcohol, and quickly, I was
going to die.”

“
Is
that why you're - ” Chloe begins, and Jamie finishes her sentence.

“
Drunk?”

“
I
was,” the janitor laughs. “I think I'm getting a terminal hangover now. I need
a drink soon.”

“
The
King had bottles of stuff in his office,” says Chloe. “We could try there?”

“
We
can get them after,” the janitor shakes his head. “This guy here takes
priority.”

“
I
thought we agreed he didn't matter anymore,” says Jamie. “He's an imposter.”

“
Oh,
he matters,” the janitor says. “If this guy is one of the King's most trusted
men, then he might be able to put me on the right path: to the real King.”

Jamie waves his hands,
about to speak before Chloe paces forward, raising her voice.

“
He's
a priority? People like you and Jamie are dropping dead all over the city, we
need to get you both to a hospital or something,
that's
our priority.”

“
Chloe,
come on -” Jamie begins, and she turns and cuts him off.

“
Come
on? Jamie, you could be dying! So could this...this guy -”

He laughs. “My name is
Mark.”

“
So
could Mark,” she continues, turning back to Jamie. “I don't want you to die.”

“
She
has a point, Mark,” Jamie admits, looking past Chloe. “We're not much use to
anybody dead.”

Mark shakes his head.

“
I
don't know how long this power is going to last, or if it's going to kill me or
whatever, but my mother is on the King's list. I've beaten his men and broken
his laws. Now I've dragged one of his most trusted men around by the collar:
I've humiliated him. When they find out who I am – and they probably already
have – they'll target my mother. I brought this on her, and I'm going to fix
it. That means taking down the King before this power either runs its course or
kills me.”

“
You're
not the only one who'd like to see the King gone,” says Jamie, “but you can't
just take down a man like that. We don't even know if there
is
a single
King who runs everything. It might be a syndicate, a conspiracy of some kind.”

“
Then
I take them down, too,” Mark shrugs. “How will they stop me?”

Jamie looks at the
defiant, half-drunk janitor standing before him, and cannot help but feel a
begrudging respect.

“
With
difficulty,” he concedes. Chloe is looking at the doors with a curious look in
her eyes. “Chloe,” Jamie bends his neck to see her face. “What's up?”

“
You
said there were police and soldiers outside, Mark?”

“
Yeah.”

“
So
why aren't they coming in for us.”

“
Because,”
the King's slurring, strained voice comes from the floor between them all. He
rolls onto his side, cringing in pain, and props himself up on his arms, “this
is neutral territory. They aren't allowed in here.”

Mark leans down,
grabbing him again. He goes to lift the King, and finds him heavier than before.
He strains and grits his teeth, before finally lifting the King to head height.

“
You're
awake.”

“
You're
drunk,” the King retorts, laughing as he dangles from Mark's hands.

“
I
want the King. The real one. How do I get to him?”

The false King starts to
laugh again, a mocking, bitter laughter.

“
You're
not getting him. Even I don't know if he really exists. You're chasing shadows,
son.”

“
You
must get orders from somewhere.”

“
Anonymously
delivered by third party couriers. I have no idea who sends them.”

Mark grits his teeth
and pulls his fist back. The King flinches despite his bravado.

“
Tell
me. There must be some way of getting to him.”

“
You
think I'm averse to a beating? In the last hour I've been knocked out twice and
shot in the fucking kneecap. You're nothing. I can see it in your eyes, you're
not a bastard. You're a kind soul. You don't want to hurt me, not really; you
certainly won't kill me. Why would I tell you shit?”

Mark purses his lips
and looks at the floor as his fist lowers.

“
I
knew it,” the King sneers.

Then Jamie has the
machine pistol pressed against the King's skull, and his voice is a low growl.

“
Tell
the man what he needs to know. He may not be a bastard but I am.”

Mark drops the King,
and turns his shocked expression to Jamie.

“
What
are you doing?”

“
Getting
you your information,” Jamie tells him, and points the gun at the King's other
kneecap. “Tell him, King, or I start shooting.”

“
Jamie,
put the gun down,” Chloe begins to walk across the lobby, her hands out to calm
him.

“
Oh,
you two are hilarious together,” the King sneers. “Which one is good cop and
which one is bad cop?”

Jamie calmly points the
gun down at the King's kneecap and, without hesitation, pulls the trigger. A
burst of gunfire blows the King's knee into red mist and the prone man spasms
on the floor, crying out in agony.

The next thing Jamie
feels is Mark's hands bunching his shirt and lifting him, his face contorted in
a mixture of horror and anger. The smell of gunpowder and blood fade like smoke
as time slows itself around Jamie.

It comes easier now.
Mark is trying to shout something, but his alcohol scented spittle freezes in
mid air, and Jamie is hanging from his immobilised hands. Across the room,
Chloe is flinching away from the blood spray.

Jamie twists himself out
of Mark's vice-like grip, prying at his fingers with both hands just to get his
shirt free. He falls to the floor and scrambles under Mark's grip as the weight
of the time building up in his head begins to throb.

Finally, he stands
behind Mark with the machine pistol in his hand once more, and pointed at the
half-naked janitor.

Time returns with an
elastic snap, and the King's screaming pierces his ears. Mark lunges forward,
his hands pawing at the air, and he stops and turns in alarm.

“
You
– how -”

Jamie points the
machine pistol at the janitor.

“
Don't
touch me again.”

Mark tenses up, his
fists still clenched.

“
You
know bullets don't hurt me, right?”

“
You
tested that theory sober yet?”

Mark says nothing,
still aching from the last few gunshots. They're getting worse as the alcohol
buzz wears off.

“
I
thought not,” Jamie says, “so it looks like we're at an impasse, since you
can't actually lay a finger on me.”

“
Just
put the gun down, nobody needs to die here.”

“
I
shot him in the knee, he won't die.”

“
And
what next? You'll kill him like those men upstairs?”

“
They
were going to kill me, I had no choice.”

“
You're
the one with the power: there's always a choice.”