Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) by Corinna Turner

phone screen – must’ve got a good shot. “Dismissed.” Everyone trooped after the Holy Father. “Right, Father Mark, let’s get these things counted and charging…”
    “I’ll deal with that,” said Eduardo. “The correct number will be charged and waiting for you by seven tonight, and ample power mags. You two sleep, eat and go over the plan for any last minute changes to take into account the sniper rifles.”
    “Don’t think I’m going to make any changes,” said Bane. “All I’ll do is instruct our main shooters to stay right back in the forestline. They won’t need to risk crawling to the top of the bank. Never was happy about that.”
    “Very wise. Off you go, then. Get rested.”
    Bane and I woke Jon and steered him back to the accommodation block, and our beds. Despite our almost wholly sleepless night, with midmorning light flooding around the curtains it was a long time before I fell asleep. The train, whilst the lynchpin of our whole operation, had kind of been the easy bit.
    Tonight our team, and nine others, were taking advantage of the satellite-free slot to head to the southern French department. Strike before the EuroGov – if they’d even come to suspect us yet – had time to re-evaluate what would surely be their first assumption – that we were planning to re-take Vatican State.
    They wouldn’t have to think about it long to realise we weren’t suicidal and we must be up to something else. So we were going to liberate at least ten Facilities – all in the same region, for ease of logistics – tomorrow night, before they figured it out. That was the plan. No further operations planned – we’d so far only thought of one way to get in…
     
    ...A knocking at the door. I blinked sleepily in the late afternoon light. Must’ve been tired, I’d slept without dreaming.
    “Margo?” Bane.
    “I’m awake.”
    “Are you coming to eat?”
    “Yes.”
    My watch said six o’clock. An hour before the briefing. I wasn’t going to think about it until then. Wasn’t going to think about the fact I was going back to a Facility. Voluntarily. I shuddered, rolled out of bed and began to pull on my clothes.
    Outside the canteen, a crowd of people were gathered around the front page of a newspaper which Jack was just pinning to the noticeboard.
    “What d’you think that’s about?” I asked Bane. He shrugged.
    Jack caught sight of us and grinned.
    “Hey, let Margo through...”
    Huh? For some reason everyone complied with a will – I moved forward, saw the headline... oh.
     
    MARGARET V. DEMANDS:
    RE-TRY EVERINGTON
     
    I went right up to read the small print... The petition had just been delivered to the EuroGov, and the Human Rights group had made very sure the press knew about it. A large photo showed the page of the petition contributed by our little community, my name at the top, sharply in focus.
    “Won’t help,” I couldn’t help saying, with a sigh. A less pleasant thought struck me... “Oh no, won’t people be more likely to believe the charges if I’m standing up for him? I didn’t think of that...”
    “It was never going to help him , with or without your name,” said Jack. “Having you on the front page helps us , though.”
    “How’d we get the newspaper?”
    “Eduardo’s looking into getting them regularly. The enterprising Gozitan who brings the post and papers over daily in his little motor boat is in the Underground and it looks like he can be trusted.”
    “Oh.”
    I yielded my place in front of the newspaper to the curious throng and headed into the canteen with Bane.
    We were back in that conference room all too soon. The crates were gone, moved to our new expanded armoury, wherever that might be. The room was packed, mostly guys, a few women. Lots of over-excited young guardsmen – uh, guardsmen, anyway – some older more serious-faced individuals. A handful of other laypeople, a handful of priests and religious sisters and brothers. Several more