Zeke looked at his watch again. The rich dark of night was seeping away and small streaks of light heralded the dawn of a day Zeke wasn't looking forward to.

He pressed his ComDat and it hissed into life.

"Unit Two, it's Zero-Four- Fifteen, you have the lead."

"Unit One, lead confirmed," came the reply.

"Unit Three, confirm your position."

"Unit Three, in place. Go get some sleep Zeke," another voice answered.

"Unit Three, agreed. Back at fifteen-hundred hours."

Zeke turned off the ComDat, checked his watch again, then his rear-view mirror and drove off. As the sky grew ever lighter, he drove back to his apartment, his journey unimpeded, due to the early hour. He drove down the ramp, parked in his usual spot and then got out, checking that the surveillance cameras were still out of action. He reckoned that he had about eight hours till they were fixed; long enough.

He opened the boot and stowed his headquarters pass-card and his electronics, except for his other phone. Zeke had a quick scan of the empty parking area, checking he was still alone and then removed his service weapons, covering them over with an old rain mac. Feeling confident that he was un-trackable again, he closed the boot lid and started back up the ramp on foot, grateful for the track shoes on his feet. He had a long walk ahead.

Five miles on, daylight having replaced the useful cover of night, he recovered his grey jeep from under a tarpaulin.

"You're early," said a voice from behind, followed by a familiar wet, hacking cough.

"Early bird and all that, Arthur. Any visitors?"

"Just one."

"Good. Let's hope it stays that way."

"Aye..." Arthur replied, "She gave me this." The old man handed over a hand drawn map.

Zeke took a quick look at it. "Back in a couple of hours."

Arthur nodded at Zeke and then went back to the small cottage.

Zeke climbed into the vehicle and headed out the way he had trekked in, via the rear service entrance, the jeep handling the unmade road surface just fine. On the main road, he headed back for town and the suburb of Servilla. Slowly, the city was waking up and a quick look at the clock told him it was approaching six o'clock and his agreed rendezvous time. Very soon, the park appeared on his right, so he pulled the jeep over to a space clear of obstructions, an easy getaway if necessary.

Once out of the vehicle, he went to its rear and opened up the spare wheel cover and fished around the base of it until he found what he was looking for. The revolver he discreetly placed in his holster, obscured by his black jacket, then putting his phone and money into his inside jacket pockets. He locked up and headed along the path that ran alongside the park, one of the rare, green open spaces left. He walked through the wrought iron archway; lush, green vines gently entangled around the rusting metal and cautiously approached the warden's empty hut. A sign out front read –Servilla memorial park. No Flawed allowed. Warden present 7am-7pm.

The park laid out before him, was a throw-back to a generation which enjoyed the open air, a population that enjoyed a slower pace of life. The remains of a children's adventure playground, took up one corner, the equipment now broken and vandalised. In the far right corner was a large pond in need of dredging. To his left was a band stand that had seen its last music played a long time ago and in the centre, the meeting point of several small paths, sat a large statue. Zeke headed towards it.

The gravel crunched underfoot, as he made his way towards the looming bronze figure. The likeness was uncanny, as If Briggs had been cast in the dulled metal himself. The eight foot statue stood looking up to the sky, the left arm supporting a rifle, the right hand frozen in salute. The plaque beneath it had no doubt once displayed a testament to their great leader, but that had been ripped off. The statue however was free from debris and pigeon poop, most likely done on daily basis by the warden. The sculptor of the piece had captured the image of a much younger Briggs faultlessly; the hard jaw, the set of his shoulders, the determined stare. Zeke almost felt the urge to thump it.

"Nice morning for a stroll, don't you think?"

"Indeed," Zeke replied to the woman, still focused on the statue.

"I'm not sure which one is colder- the statue or the man himself. What do you think?"

"I think it would take a great deal more heat to smelt the latter."

The woman laughed softly and Zeke turned to her. She too, seemed to have aged greatly in such a short time. Her hair, held captive beneath the hood of her faced parka, had turned a dull shade of grey. Lines had appeared on her face and her eyes had sunken away, lost beneath dark circles and puffy red skin. The woman aware of Zeke's scrutiny turned her face away self- consciously and she walked over to a small bench. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well...," the woman replied, "my role has become somewhat more involved since..." Her voice died away.

Zeke remained quiet, and watched her slowly gather her composure.

"So, do you have the money?"

Zeke took out the bundle from his jacket and came to sit next to her on the bench. He offered it to her and she took it, quickly placing it in her own pocket. She then took out a manila envelope from inside her coat and passed it to Zeke, who hurriedly placed it inside his own.

"They are probably the best ones he has ever made. Your family should be safe- for the time being."

Zeke nodded.

"Is it right what he tells me, that Briggs is going to demote sixty-thousand?"

"Yes," Zeke replied, the tone of his voice apologetic.

"I wouldn't be sad, Zeke. I think this is the turning point we need, I think this time he hasn't a clue what he is risking."

"Maybe."

There came a pause, as they both looked up at the statue.

"How is she Zeke?"

Zeke turned towards the woman, surprised by the emotion bubbling beneath her words. So different from the venom conveyed in a similar question just a few days earlier.

"Broken."

The woman nodded and wiped furiously as heavy tears spilled down her cheeks.

"It wasn't her fault." Zeke offered. "If it's anyone's fault it's his," he said pointing to the statue. "Or mine." He hung his head, the shame he felt, too heavy to burden.

The woman took hold of Zeke's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We are all to blame, Zeke. That is the thing that hurts the most. We could have stopped him years ago, when we had the chance, but we didn't, we failed to act out of cowardice and now we are reaping what we have sown. And our children are dying because of us."

Zeke nodded.

"Grief is a wicked emotion, Zeke. It fills you up, eats away at everything, until there is little room for anything else. I can see that now, but he can't and nothing I say helps. You must protect her Zeke, from Briggs. That man will use her and dispose of her. But most of all, you must protect her from my husband. His mind has warped, you see, Zeke, nothing reaches him; Melody is the same. Now I really must go. Look after your family, Zeke. Make them safe, above all else."

The woman stood up and walked away without another glance.

Zeke pressed the door buzzer and waited.

"What?"

"Liz, it's me. Let me in."

"Oh it's you. Have you seen the time? I have to get to work, get Emily to school..."

"Liz, just shut up and listen to me," he said interrupting her moan. "You need to hear me out, now!"

Not once in all the time they had been together and the subsequent time where their interactions had been more hostile, had he ever told Liz to shut up. He knew it, she knew it and without a further word, the door buzzed open and Zeke climbed up the three flights of stairs to his old apartment.

As he turned the final flight of stairs, Liz stood in front of the open door waiting for him.

"Where do you get off talking to me..."

Zeke held a finger up to his mouth and she shut up immediately, the anger in her eyes, immediately replaced by uncertainty, fear.

She backed into the room and Zeke followed her in closing the door behind him.

"Where's Emily?"

"In the bathroom, brushing her teeth."

"Good, I'll make this quick. He's doing it!"

Liz stumbled backwards and found the edge of the sofa just in time.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He wouldn't, he couldn't."

"He is, on Wednesday."

"How much?"

"Eighty-five."

"But we talked about this, I asked you whether he would ever do this and you said no, he had no need to."

"I know I did, but times have changed, Briggs has changed."

"Can you stop him, Zeke. Tell him he can't."

Zeke laughed. "Liz, who the hell do you think I am? I am just a foot soldier; I have no influence, no power over him."

"So what are we going to do?"

Zeke pulled out the envelope and his phone from his jacket. "Pack a few things quickly, just the basics. Leave everything that isn't entirely essential. In here," he said passing over the envelope, "are new papers, the best that money can buy. Here are my keys to the jeep, you take that and this phone and you leave and get as far away from here as possible. I don't want to know where you are going, yet. Just leave."

Liz, sat motionless, staring at Zeke, her mouth open, silent tears streamed down her cheeks, making furrows on her freshly powdered face.

"Daddy!" squealed a voice and Emily bounded across the room and gave him a wet, tooth-paste coated kiss. "Are you gonna take me to school?" She asked.

"No honey, not today. Daddy has to get back to work, but I will see you real soon.

"Okay," she replied in a young, sad voice, so used to her father's short and infrequent visits. "Next time, then."

"Go and watch some TV in your room, Emily. We aren't going to school today. I am taking you on an adventure," Liz said, having reacted to Zeke's news.

"Woo-hoo!" She kissed Zeke again and he squeezed her tightly and breathed in the scent of her freshly washed hair.

As Emily ran to her room, Zeke stood up. "Liz, don't contact me. I know that phone's number and I will call you when, if it's safe. Ok?"

She nodded and then followed him to the door.

"One last thing. Liz, take this."

Out from his holster, he removed his revolver. "I showed you how to use one of these a long while ago. I know you hate them, but I need to know that you will be safe."

Liz took the weapon from him, as if it was a scolding, hot coal and placed it in her bag on the floor by the door.

Zeke, walked out of the door.

"Zeke!" She paused. "Thank you. For Emily's sake and mine, please stay safe."

Zeke raised a hand, but didn't turn around and headed off down the stairs.