Roth buried his face into the pillow, and took a breath deep enough to rupture a weaker man’s lungs. Whichever way he looked, in his home life and his work life, as an assassin and as a person, as a potential hero and as a certain villain, he was a failure.
Chapter 28
At five o’clock in the morning on the first anniversary of Takeover Day, Ewan was alone in the basement.
My family were murdered a year ago today.
His new family at Spitfire’s Rise all knew where he was. But they knew not to disturb him. Just like Lorraine, who had sealed herself in the clinic again, Ewan had found his own space and planned to keep it all morning. He sat on the concrete floor alone, with McCormick’s envelope in his hand.
For the eleventh or twelfth time, Ewan read the stone tablet in front of him, and remembered a personal detail about each of the chiselled names.
*
UNDERDOGS MEMORIAL WALL
In loving memory of those who fought and
gave their lives in the Great British Rebellion.
Sarah Best
Callum Turner
Joe Horn
Elaine Dean
Arian Shirazi
Teymour Shirazi
Rosanne Tate
Miles Ashford
Chloe Newham
Tim Carson
Roy Wolff
Mike Ambrose
Beth Foster
David Riley
Val Riley
Sally Sharpe
Svetlana Karpov
Ben Christie
Rachael Watts
Daniel Amopoulos
Charlie Coleman
Raj Singh
Joseph McCormick
*
Twenty-three dead in the space of a year. It seemed almost bloodless compared to the wars of old. But of an army that had numbered thirty-three including Shannon, only ten remained. The smallest army in world history.
But they had won the night. That particular night, at least. Against odds which should have been insurmountable, they had earned the right to stay in the war. Perhaps in a month or so they would feel proud, but that morning Spitfire’s Rise had transformed into a dull, sad building without atmosphere or character. The loss seemed bigger than one man.
Kate and Thomas had seized the farm for themselves, to share long hugs and wallow in understandable misery. Even with Ewan and Alex’s support, Kate still blamed herself for McCormick’s death. Unfairly of course, but logic and facts didn’t matter in the face of guilt and heavy anxiety. Ewan now understood why McCormick had been so opposed to Kate being the one who pressed the button: it was a heavy burden for an anxiety sufferer to bear, and she would bear it for a long time.
Alex had felt awful too, but his worries were different. Something about another gap in his memory, when he had apparently proved to Lorraine and Shannon that Spitfire’s Rise was safe. He had no recollection of the conversation, and the women were reluctant to give him any details. It was driving him crazy.
Ewan decided the hours had dragged for long enough. It was time to open the envelope and read McCormick’s letter. He had pushed the idea to the back of his mind for as long as he could, occupying his time by reading the names on the Memorial Wall again and again. The letter would be the last communication Ewan and McCormick would ever have, and the thought of their relationship ending terrified him. As long as he refused to open the envelope, there would always be something new from his mentor to look forward to.
But he owed it to McCormick to read his dying words. Ignoring the letter would be worse than clapping his hands over his ears like an infant, and would silence the man’s performance before his final curtain.
Ewan held his breath and tore open the envelope. Jack had turned the generator back on after he realised nobody was going to bed, so there was more than enough light to read.
The words were difficult to stomach.
My dear friend Ewan,
Although I take no pleasure in writing this letter – if you’re reading it I must be a nother casualty of this war – I’m happy for the opportunity to say some important things to you. I t’ ll be difficult to put my collection of unordered thoughts onto paper , but I ’ll do my best.
I know it’s tragic to lose anyone from our family , but try to avoid wasting your days feeling sorry for me. I lived to a ripe old age by modern standards, and spent my years filled with joy. I lived to watch so many people grow into their best selves, and by the end of my life I be came the only war leader in history to know every one of my soldier s personally . No matter how I met my death, whatever pain or despair I may have felt at the end, it cannot cancel out the wonderful years I’ve lived .
I hope I found the opportunity to tell you this, but either way – you and the Oakenfold students were my finest work. I remember the state we found each other in on Takeover Day – the state we were all in that day – and I compare it to the fine young adults you have become. The old Ewan West is dead, buried underneath the hero who took his place. So never let your troubled past get in the way of your self-belief. Never think that your diagnoses make you a lesser person, or ‘not good enough’ to be who you’re meant to be. And n ever feel guilty about what the old Ewan West did to Polly. Regardless of what happened, regardless of how much I’ve missed her and Barbara, I haven’t cried for them in almost a year. I’ve been too busy watching you all with a proud smile.
It won’t surprise you that I’m naming you as my successor. I want you to be the soldier who leads Britain in the charge against Nicholas Grant. I know you’ll lead the Underdogs well, in your own special style that I could never have imitated, and I know that our friends will follow you. I t may be a big task, but it’s a task with your name written all over it.
And since I’ve spent most of this letter telling you what not to do, I’ll spend some time giving you a little leadership advice .
First, listen to people. If your soldiers feel valued they’ll support you forever . You don’t have to let them control your decisions, but their thoughts are always worth listening to.
Second, make sure you know your soldiers’ strengths. Know the right person for the right job . And make sure they know their own strengths too. It’s easy to forget them when times are difficult .
Third , recognise that you will make mistakes. I made plenty. But t he last person who never made a mistake never made anything.
And f inally, love your soldiers. Even if they’re a pain in the arse, love them.
We might actually win this war, Ewan. Grant may see it as impossible, and once in a while you will be tempted to think so too, but it’s not beyond us. And t he reason is simple : we are the U nderdogs , and history has shown us that the one thing dictators have to fear is underdogs . They are the ones who start revolutions, win civil wars, and show off the incredible strength hidden inside regular people . If you win this war – if this small, untrained militia of less than a dozen brings down Nicholas Grant – if a group of teenagers from a special school defeats an army of million s – it will prove the might of underdogs , once and forever.
We are Britain’s last line of defence – outnumbered, outgunned , but not outwitted . We are the people who will bring civilisation back , who history will remember for a thousand years . W e are the Underdogs of Spitfire’s Rise .
Do me proud, my boy. You don’t need someone like me for this.