Hunting Lila

by Sarah Alderson

  A knock on the door interrupted my musings.

  ‘Are you OK in there?’ Alex sounded tense.

  ‘Fine.’

  I could have sworn the doorknob turned a fraction of an inch.

  I got up before he could come in to check and yanked open the door. Alex was leaning against the frame. He looked tired, stress etched around his mouth. Babysitting me must be such a chore.

  ‘How are your hands and knees?’

  I had forgotten all about them when Rachel had appeared. Now I turned my palms over and saw the blanched skin flapping free in places.

  ‘OK,’ I said, walking straight past him to my room and closing the door behind me. He didn’t follow. I wondered if he would just hand over his duty to one of the ‘guards’ outside. I sank onto the bed, pulling the towel around me, and felt tears well up out of nowhere.

  The hairbrush on top of the dresser began to move, pretty much of its own accord. I wasn’t even aware that I was doing it until it was hovering in mid-air by my head. By then it was too late. It hurtled through the window like a missile. The smash, when it came, threw me sideways off the bed, glass splintering at my feet.

  I stood for one moment, frozen, waiting for Alex’s footsteps on the stairs and for him to burst angrily in on me – but nothing happened. I tiptoed to the door and eased it open. I could hear Alex’s voice but it was muffled. He was pacing the front veranda talking on his phone. Probably to Rachel. Organising a date no doubt, for when he was done with babysitting.

  I turned back into the room. This was my chance. I threw on a clean pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and with one backwards glance at the football-sized hole in the window, I was out of there.

  I took the stairs as quickly as I could, jumping the step that squeaked the loudest. Then I snuck through to the kitchen, unlocked the back door, stepped out and closed it gently behind me. I put my flip-flops on as I went down the steps and ran to the bottom of the garden. I wasn’t sure what lay behind the house, probably another garden, but I planned to hop the fence and cut through to the road behind.

  I didn’t know where I was headed but the ocean seemed as good a place as any. At the fence, I peered back towards the house but there was no movement, no yelling, just a great big hole in the upstairs window. I grabbed a tree branch and hoisted myself up until I was perched on top of the fence and then I jumped down, landing in a crouch in the garden of a house almost identical to Jack’s. I ran quickly to the side of the house and edged my way down the alley alongside it, lined with rubbish bins. I peered around the house’s veranda on the lookout for any black cars with tinted windows but there were none, so I began walking westwards fast, towards Harbour Beach.

  By the time I made it to the main street, I was beginning to relax. There was no sign of Alex roaring around the bend on his bike to come and find me and bring me back. The bright green light of a Seven-Eleven over the way beckoned, so I crossed over and slipped inside the cool of the store, making my way down a skinny aisle towards the drinks.

  I grabbed a can of Sprite and headed to the counter to pay. A grungy-looking old man was standing in the middle of the narrow aisle, checking out the dried noodle selection. I hovered awkwardly, hoping he would notice me and move out of the way, but he kept standing there muttering to himself.

  I cleared my throat, hoping he’d take the hint, but he was engrossed in studying the ingredients list on the back of his noodle pack.

  My hand was going numb holding the cold Sprite. I took a step forward.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said, as I started to edge past the old guy, sucking in my stomach and flattening myself against the shelf as I inched by.

  He suddenly looked up from his conversation with the noodle packet and fixed me with a dead stare. My earlier impression had been off; he wasn’t old, perhaps only in his early forties. He was dark-skinned with a dusty grey film about him. There were concrete shadows beneath his eyes and heavy creases around his mouth.

  ‘I need your help,’ he whispered, his voice scratchy as sandpaper.

  My eyes flitted to the round mirror angled in the right-hand corner of the shop. The shopkeeper reflected back at me was oblivious, I could see the top of his bald head serving another customer. I really didn’t need to be helping out a crazy person conflicted over his choice of pot noodle.

  ‘Er . . . I’m not sure I’m the right person,’ I told him.

  ‘Yes, yes, you are,’ he said.

  The man’s eyes were fevered and his breath in my face was smoke-hazed. I flinched slightly and edged further past him. I just wanted to pay for my can of Sprite and get out of here. The man twisted, blocking my path with his body, and I felt myself take a step backwards, the hairs rising on the nape of my neck. Something wasn’t right. He took a step towards me, his hand outstretched as though he was going to grab me, but then he paused, his head jerking up, looking at something over my shoulder. Before I could turn to follow his gaze he was off, shuffling towards the fire exit at the rear of the store, dropping his noodle packet on the floor as he went.

  I turned to the front door, seeing a red shape through the stickered glass. Alex’s bike. My head fell back against the shelf. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t even been able to make it to the beach. Busted in a Seven-Eleven. God they were well trained. I put the can back and then scuffed my way over to the door.

  On the kerb directly in front of me was Alex, leaning against his motorbike, his legs stretched out across the pavement and his arms crossed against his chest. His eyebrows were raised. He didn’t say anything. Just handed me a helmet. I took it and, sighing, put it on. Alex took a step forward to help me with the strap under my chin.

  ‘Get on,’ he said and I clambered on behind him.

  11

  As Alex accelerated off down the street, I flattened my body against his, gripping tightly around his waist. Ouch. Something was pressing against my stomach It had the pressure and bulk of ridged metal and I reared back an inch as I realised it was a gun. I was sure Alex hadn’t been carrying a gun earlier – I would have felt it – so where had he got this one from? And, more worryingly, why had he felt it necessary to bring a gun when chasing after me? What was he planning to do – shoot me if I resisted?

  We slowed up outside a modern apartment block that shone in the sunlight and took a sharp turn into an underground car park. Alex tapped in a code to open the barrier and then we were out of the glaring afternoon sun and into the dank gloom beneath the building. He curved the bike around a few pillars and pulled up by a lift. He got off first, but I jumped down before he could help me. He stood and watched for a few seconds while I battled with the helmet then stepped forward to help me, biting back a smile.

  A question was forming on my lips and he anticipated it. ‘My place,’ he said simply.

  I nodded. Of course, it was just the kind of place I’d imagined.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, getting into the lift and pressing the button for the sixth floor.

  * * *

  Sara had been right in her description. Alex’s apartment was minimalist to the extreme. The floors were stripped pale wood. The walls were white with nothing on them. It had the echoey, freshly painted feel of a brand new apartment, right before the owners move in.

  Alex walked past me, beckoning me to follow him into the living room. This was a little bit better. There was a soft black sofa, a huge flat-screen television, a cream pile rug and a glass coffee table. But my eyes were drawn to the wall facing me.

  It was made up entirely of glass, with floor-to-ceiling windows. There was an amazing view of Harbour Beach and the pier. I crossed over to look and gazed down at the little people scurrying on the street below, blading along the boardwalk and laid out on the beach like rows of boiled sweets. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a black SUV parked on the pavement opposite the main entrance. I wasn’t totally sure it was the same one that had been parked outside Jack’s house but it looked similar and I wondered what it was doing here, rather than keeping
a lookout for Suki back at Jack’s.

  ‘I’m going to take a quick shower,’ Alex said.

  I turned. He was watching me carefully. ‘Please don’t run off while I’m having it.’ The warning was implicit.

  I nodded. ‘I won’t.’

  He gave me a fleeting smile and then turned, a little wearily it seemed, towards the hallway again. I watched as he opened a door and disappeared from view. A minute later I heard the noise of a shower running. I tried not to let my imagination run off into the bathroom with him.

  I hesitated for a minute and then tiptoed into the hallway, pausing in front of the open door. There was a double futon on the floor. Built-in mirrored wardrobes lined the wall opposite the bed. The only other items in the room were a stack of books skyscrapering the bed, and an alarm clock. The bathroom was en-suite and the door stood open, puffs of steam escaping. I guessed Alex was keeping both doors open so he could hear if I attempted another escape, so I tiptoed backwards into the living room and crossed over again to look out at the view.

  The black car was still sitting against the kerb and, as I stood there trying to make out the number plate, the passenger door opened and a man in black combats and a black T-shirt got out. He was wearing sunglasses and he scanned the street back and forth, before throwing a glance up at the apartment. I stepped back quickly from the window, my leg banging into the glass table.

  And everything suddenly became clear. The men in the black cars weren’t guarding the house, they were guarding me. Otherwise why would they be here at Alex’s place too? Everything fell into place and I laughed under my breath. Alex wasn’t babysitting me. He was protecting me.

  I thought about it some more: Jack wanting to pack me off home as soon as possible; Alex suggesting I run at the base; the two of them obsessing over alarms and security; Alex’s secret service style take on babysitting. I felt such huge relief that it wasn’t me, after all – that it wasn’t because he saw me as a child.

  Then I realised, with a bone-numbing sense of disquiet, that if they were protecting me, it had to be from something. Something so bad I required round-the-clock security from a team of highly trained men.

  Suki? I laughed again and shook my head. Why would a team of men be needed to keep Suki away? Even I could probably manage to protect myself from her. It wasn’t as if she could run very fast in those platform heels. I wouldn’t even need to use my ability.

  The shower turned off as I sat there reaching back over the last day or so and trying to remember any other suspicious moments.

  A few minutes later, Alex wandered through in a clean pair of shorts and bare feet, water still trickling down his neck from his bristling hair. My stomach did a one-eighty flip as I caught sight of the ridges of muscle running down his torso. Then he pulled on a T-shirt and I sighed audibly.

  ‘Give me your hands,’ Alex said, sitting down next to me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Give me your hands,’ he said again.

  I offered them to him tentatively, my palms facing down, and he took them in one of his. My heart started galloping at his touch. He flipped my hands over and started to dab some antiseptic cream onto the scrapes I’d forgotten all about. I flinched at the sting.

  ‘So, are you going to tell me why you ran off like that?’ he said.

  I stared at my palms and his fingers rubbing in the cream and, after about ten seconds of trying to get my thoughts in order, I lifted my face to meet his eyes.

  ‘Are you going to tell me why you followed me?’

  ‘Because I was worried about you.’ He frowned ever so slightly, as though that should have been obvious. He let go of my hands and they fell into my lap.

  ‘What did Rachel mean when she said “enjoy your babysitting”?’ I asked coolly, observing his reaction.

  ‘What do you think she meant?’ he asked. He looked like he was laughing at me and his tone suggested that I was being deliberately obtuse.

  ‘Listen, Lila, I’m not babysitting you. For one, you don’t need a babysitter, and two, I actually like spending time with you and Jack’s not paying me, so it doesn’t qualify.’

  I punched him lightly on the arm and he deflected it with a laugh.

  ‘I believe you,’ I said. ‘I don’t think you’re babysitting me.’

  Alex gave me a relieved smile, his defences relaxing.

  ‘I think you’re guarding me.’

  ‘What?’ he said, the smile vanishing, but then he threw back his head and laughed.

  I had seen the change in his eyes, though – the way they had frozen and a shield had come down.

  I persevered. ‘You’re not a babysitter, you’re a bodyguard.’

  He stopped laughing. ‘You’re right.’

  Now it was my turn to be surprised. He’d caved in so easily.

  ‘Of course we’re guarding you. The guys in the Unit would be all over you like lice if we gave them half a chance. Jack would kill them if he knew the way half of them were looking at you this afternoon.’

  I’d been right after all. He was trying to cover it up. I didn’t feel happy to be right though. Instead, I felt a slow, creeping fear. ‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ I said, trying to stay cool. ‘You’re protecting me from something.’

  ‘Like I said, the only thing we’re protecting you from is the less than noble intentions of a whole lot of testosterone-charged men.’

  I shook my head at him, frustrated. ‘No. I’m not blind, Alex, I can figure things out. The car isn’t guarding the house, it’s guarding me. That’s why it’s outside right now.’ I saw surprise flare in his eyes then disappear. ‘You didn’t want me to go for a run on the street, you insisted I come to the base. Neither of you will leave me alone for a minute. Jack’s acting weird about me staying and you’re sticking to me like glue.’

  As I said this, I wished the reality was quite as literal as that. But Alex was shaking his head at me, so I continued. ‘I will find out, Alex. Even if it means sneaking off on my own again.’

  This last bit was a bluff. There was no way I was letting him or Jack out of my sight again until whatever was going on was not going on anymore. But it got the reaction I was hoping for. His face darkened and his eyes, vivid ice blue now, cut into me. He leaned forward across the sofa and took hold of my wrist, holding it tight, his thumbs pressing into my pulse points.

  ‘You cannot sneak off. You can’t leave my sight.’

  This was good. Great, in fact. I had been right. I wasn’t sure about what exactly, though it clearly involved something quite dangerous, with me as the possible target. But there was no panic at the news, only a surge of excitement at the thought of not leaving Alex’s side and relief that he wasn’t thinking of it as babysitting – not exactly.

  ‘Lila. Do you hear me?’ He was shaking me now and I focused back on him. His face was torn, the familiar frown line back in place. I wanted to reach out and smudge it away with my index finger.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, I hear you.’ The seriousness in his voice pierced my buzz. Clearly some part of my brain that wasn’t overtaken by Alex’s presence was trying to have its say; maybe it was the survival part.

  Alex let go of me then and stood up. ‘Look I need to call Jack and tell him where we are and’ – he looked irritated – ‘I need to tell him what I’m about to do.’ When he walked out into the hallway, I felt something pulling inside my chest, like a stretching elastic band.

  About five minutes later, he came back into the living room. His expression was so serious, I flinched slightly at what might be coming. He crossed to the sofa and sat down on the edge, leaning forward and staring out of the window. He put his phone down on the table and then turned to face me.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ve told Jack what I’m about to tell you.’ He paused as though replaying the conversation in his head. A little frown rippled over his forehead then disappeared.

  I was still hugging my knees. The pain in my chest had eased from the minute Alex sat back
down near to me, but I was still rigid with tension.

  ‘He wasn’t too happy but I convinced him it was our only option if we wanted to keep you . . .’

  I thought he was going to say ‘safe’, but he said, ‘out of trouble’, and he looked up at me through his lashes. He wasn’t going to let me forget about running out on him.

  I remained still, my eyes locked onto his.

  ‘You know we caught someone the other day? That first night you were here? Well, Jack’s team did.’

  I nodded.

  ‘So it seems we’ve stirred up a hornets’ nest. We hadn’t thought anything of it until you told us about Suki sniffing around the house. Then we wondered what they were up to, whether they might be looking to retaliate.’

  Retaliate. I let that sink in but it still didn’t make much sense to me.

  ‘But who? Who did you catch? Who are they? And what’s it got to do with me?’

  ‘It didn’t have anything to do with you at all,’ Alex said, shifting slightly, ‘until you told Suki that you were Jack’s sister.’

  ‘But why does that matter?’

  ‘Tit for tat. It’s a possibility. We took one of theirs, they might be looking for a way to get back at us. In which case you could be – well – an option.’

  ‘An option? What, there’s a menu?’ My voice was rising. ‘Why me? Why not someone else – someone in the Unit or, I don’t know, surely there’re other people?

  You can’t be keeping tabs on every family member of every person in the Unit!’

  ‘They won’t take any of the men from the Unit, it’s too risky for them and, more importantly, it wouldn’t be worth their while.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They know we wouldn’t negotiate if one of us was taken hostage.’

  ‘What? They wouldn’t negotiate if you or Jack got caught?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head at me. I was stunned.

  ‘But why me?’ I whispered. ‘What about the others and their families?’

  ‘Lila, remember what I told you about us not being allowed girlfriends?’