Thieves Like Us.

'Oi! you under the bed, I'm talking to you' the intruder spoke with a rough london accent. 'Jonah?'
Swearing under his breath, Jonah wriggled out from under the bunk 'who the hell are you? how'd you get in here?'
'wasn't much of a lock, any majorly talented individual could have sorted it.'
'but your just a kid'
'oh, is that what i am?'

 

'I mean how did you get past the screws the security -'
' " gain entry to the targets cell, identify target and observe." that was my job, thats what i did.'
Jonah got slowley to his feet. 'what do you mean "target"?'
'Uh-uh.' the boy pelled back his eye patch to reveal what looked like a perfectly good eye underneath 'i don't answer the tough questions - that's con's job.'
'Con? what are you -?'
'sorry mate, gotta get on with observing you now' With a wicked smile, he pushed apart his eyelids with two fingers and popped out his eyeball. It glistened as he held it between his thinger and thumb. 'the names patch, I'm keeping an eye on you, jonah wish'

 

Jonah just stared, speechless and revolted, with no idea how to respond. There was a scuffling noise outside in the corridor.
'did patch get his eye out already?' It was a girl's, high and prim; she sounded foreign, french maybe. 'He is trying to intimidate you, yes? But don't let him freak you out. Its only glass.'
'Aw, con' patch complained, placing his bogus eye back in 'why'd you have to spoil my fun?'
A graceful silhouette appeared behind patch in the doorway. Con - for constance? connie? confidence, bythe sound of things.
'Look,' said Jonah finding his voice at last. 'You want to tell me what the hell is going on here?'
The girl ignored him, Turned to patch 'i thought motti was fixing the lights.'
They snapped on in the cell, blinding and brilliant.
'Right on cue,' said Patch
Jonah blinked furiously, willing his sight to return. When it did, his gaze lingered to con. She was tall, almost his height. Eighteen or nineteen, he reckoned, and striking rather than beautiful: her neat nose just a little crooked, her eyes just a fraction to far apart. Her hair was blonde, blonder than Jonah's, almost white, held back off her forehead by a black band as black as the rest of the chlothes she wore. With her sparkling blue eyes, she looked amazing.
She looked aloof and sophisticated, while Jonah stood there cowering like a prat in his prison pyjamas.
'Now just hang on,' he said. 'I don't know what kind of stunt your trying to pull here, but -'
Con cut him short. 'you are jonah wish, the cipherpunk, Yes?'
Jonah grimaced. 'cipherpunk?'
'It's him all right Con,' patch said, checking the corridor was still clear. 'He's changed a bit since the pictures were taken, but this is the right cell. And theres no roomie to worry about, just like the man said.'
Con walked casually into the cell. "You do not look like a computer geek, Jonah.' she talked slowley and carefully, like she was tasting each word in her mouth. 'you are quite cute, even with a bed-head.'
'I could just about handle the "cipherpunk" thing,' said jonah, smoothing a hand through his sandy hair 'but now your taking the piss.'
'uh-uh' con smiled, the kind of smile you saw pinned up in dentists' waiting rooms. ' we are taking you.'
'Taking me?' He bunched his fists. 'This is crazy what is this?'
'Get dressed, Hurry.'
'Why?'
Con threw him a look hard enough to bruise. 'we'd hate for you to catch a cold out there.'
'Out there?' He looked at her, bemused 'What, your here to spring me?'
'Duh!' said patch 'kinda early for visiting hours, innit?'
'And we will be late for our exit if we don't get moving.' Con picked up his blue prison jeans from where they lay crumpled on the floor and threw them at him. 'So move.'

 

thanks rose, cona is based on playfulsweetheart, AKA kitty

 

con*

 

no cyber ur mot

 

'Late. Right.' Jonah's mind was grappeling numbly with events and coming off worst.
Then, as he slowley pulled on the threadbare jeans, he noticed the warder in the corridor start to stir. Was that good news or bad? Did he want to be rescued - shoved back in his cell and locked up again? Hadn't he just been fantasising about getting out of here?
Funnily enough, a tall blonde and a kid with a removable eyeball hadn't figured prominently in those fantisies.
The warders eyes flicked open. He was a new screw - Wilson, his name was. He stared first in confusion, then in alarm at these unlikely night visitors.
As jonah continued dressing, he could see from the corner of his eye that slowley, quietly, wilson was getting to his feet. Should he say somthing, alert Con and Patch? Or should he be glad there was someone to put a stop to this madness? He struggled into a white T-shirt, trying
not to shake, feeling the light cotton snag on his sweaty back.
'Come on!' Con urged him.
Wilson pulled out his batton and raised it, ready to bring it down on patch's head. If Jonah was going to say something, he would have to do it right now before -
He never got the chance.
As wilson brought down his club, patch ducked and dodged neatly out of the way. Jonah blinked, and so almost missed the bit where Con knocked the baton from his hand and struck him in the stomach. Next thing he knew, Patch was wielding the club while wilson lay sprawled on the concrete floor, gasping for breath.

 

'Now come on you kids,' wilson said weakly, like he thought he wad somehow still in control. 'I don't knkw what your game is, but give it up. You can't hope to walk out of here.'
'Kids!?' Con hauled him up by the arm. 'Look at me, you patronising little man.' Her blue eyes were unblinking, as blue and cold as artic waters. 'What is his name, Jonah?'
The warder looked at him warningly.
'She asked you a question Jonah,' said patch quietly. 'What, you're on his side, now?'
at least i understand his side, thought jonah, his mouth dry.
'Wilson,' he croaked at last. 'his name's wilson'
'Well, well Mr Wilson. I am glad you woke up. We have need of you.'
'If you think you can use me as a hostage -' he broke off, wincing as she placed a hand on the back of his neck.
'You must be out of your -'
'Shhh.' Con leant close, like she wa going to kiss him. Her eyes boring into his own, her voice soft and soothing as her fingers stroked his neck 'You will walk to the main gate' she assured him 'You will tell the guards to open up so that a white van may gain enterance.'
Wilson just stared at her, kind of glassily.
'The driver will not be carrying identification, but you can vouch for her. Ask that they bend the rules and let her through. She is . . . some entertainment you arranged for doug hurst, no? its his birthday today.'
'Entertainment,' said Wilson, nodding as if this is some perfectly plausible idea.
'for doug's birthday,' Con reminded him gently. It sounded wierd; the way she spoke, her words . . . She sounded so much older than she looked.