Gray Vengeance Read Free Page A

you the police?’
    The man chuckled. ‘No, not the police. Nor do I have any involvement with any government department, if that was going to be your next question.’
    ‘Have you got a name?’
    ‘You can call me Efram.’
    ‘And your surname?’
    ‘I think Efram’s distinctive enough.’
    ‘So how do you know my name?’
    ‘You ask a lot of questions for a man who’s been paid a lot of money just to listen,’ Efram said.
    ‘Call me paranoid, but I trust no-one, least of all strangers.’
    Efram pulled a file from his briefcase and opened it. ‘Paul Roberts, born at Brighton’s Royal Sussex County Hospital on June the seventh, 1980. Left school and went to Sussex University in 1998, studied philosophy and sociology before dropping out in your second year with a poor attendance record. Moved to London shortly afterwards and had a succession of poorly paid jobs for a couple of years, then were approached to join the Direct Action Movement, or DAM. After a brief spell in their ranks, you left, seeing them as too liberal for your liking . You found the same problem with the Anarchist Federation, and so you formed Chapter Nine, along with a few other disillusioned members of DAM and AF. You currently have seventeen members and just over two hundred pounds in your bank account.’
    ‘I thought you said you weren’t government,’ Roberts interrupted. The conversation had taken a distinctly uncomfortable turn. ‘How could you know all this about me?’
    Efram chuckled. ‘A decent private detective could dig up this information within a couple of hours, especially one with a disregard for privacy laws, so don’t be shocked.’
    Efram glanced down at the file. ‘According to this, you have three convictions for criminal damage in the last two years. Tell me about them.’
    Roberts briefly explained how he’d attacked a car belonging to the head of a major bank, covering it in blue paint, and how he and some fellow members of Chapter Nine had sprayed their slogans all over the walls of the buildings in Egerton Crescent, Britain’s most expensive street. The final act had been to pelt the prime minister’s car with paint bombs as it left Downing Street.
    ‘I’m confused,’ Efram said. ‘You claim to be anarcho- syndicalists , and you state that through direct action, workers will be able to liberate themselves, yet all you’ve done is throw a little paint around. How exactly is that supposed to bring down the government?’
    Roberts’s face burned. True, his actions so far hadn’t exactly caused ripples through parliament, but what was such a small group supposed to do?
    ‘Our acts were designed to drum up support,’ he said. ‘As our numbers grow, our voice will be heard.’
    ‘Is that really the case,’ Efram asked, ‘or are you just a whinging pussy who’s using Chapter Nine as an excuse not to do a real day’s work?’
    The insult was too much for Roberts.
    ‘Stop the car,’ he said. ‘I’m not listening to this shit, no matter how much you’re paying.’
    Efram put a hand on his chest and pushed him back into his seat. His demeanour instantly changed, gone the genial soul who’d made the initial offer.
    ‘When I think of smashing the state, I’m not interested in waving a placard about, or a little vandalism: I envisage a country with no effective government where the people rise up and take what’s theirs; where the rich become the poor; and where anarchy reigns. The workers determine their own conditions and answer to no-one.’ He stared into Roberts’s eyes as if peering into his soul. ‘What do you see?’
    ‘The same,’ Roberts said, ‘but there isn’t much I can do with less than two dozen men and no funds.’
    ‘You see the size of your group as a disadvantage, but that’s exactly why we sought you out. The only question is, how far are you willing to go to realise your dream?’
    ‘I’m ready for anything,’ Roberts insisted.
    ‘That’s the answer I was hoping