by Simon Mayo
‘The alarm?’ said Daisy.
‘Shouldn’t be attached to the windows,’ said Ant. ‘We had a motion detector in the room.’
‘And if you’re wrong?’
‘We’ll be fine,’ Ant said, exchanging a glance with Mattie.
‘Your stomach OK?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘OK, go,’ said Daisy.
Ant and Mattie sprinted the length of the garden. Mattie jumped onto the window ledge, then disappeared behind the dense, overgrown ivy that curtained half of it. Ant, crouching underneath, glanced up at the latch of the sash window.
‘Old wood, Mattie,’ she said in an urgent whisper. ‘Thinnest, widest screwdriver should do it.’
‘Already got it,’ he said, a ten-centimetre metal shaft protruding from his clenched hand. ‘Ready?’
Ant nodded. Mattie jabbed the screwdriver up through the two wooden frames and waited. Ant jumped onto the ledge and they both clasped the handle, tensing for the final push.
They counted together. ‘En, de, twa, kat,’ then rammed the shaft against the locking mechanism. The ancient brass ball-and-socket came apart, pieces flying against the glass before clattering somewhere out of sight.
Ant reached up and pulled the top sash down, Mattie sliced a knife between the shutters, and they swung inwards.
Watching from the hut, Daisy whistled softly. ‘I think they might have done this before,’ she said.
Mattie jumped and rolled into the house, sending a plume of dust into the now sun-filled room; Ant climbed down, feeling her way with care. They hesitated only briefly before closing the window and folding the shutters back into place, then looked around the darkened room that had once been Dan’s office, now redesigned as a lounge. It was musty and hot, the air thick with the smell of cats.
Mattie wrinkled his nose. ‘Disgusting,’ he said.
Ant checked the small, flashing white boxes on the ceiling. ‘When we move past that table the alarm will be triggered,’ she said. ‘We’ll have thirty seconds to enter the code.’
‘What if they’ve moved the console?’
‘They won’t have. Ready?’
Mattie nodded, and they sprinted across the room. As they passed the table, they heard a high, loud whine from the cupboard under the stairs. Ant pulled the door open and Mattie dived in, throwing shoes and old coats out of the way.
‘About twenty seconds!’ called Ant. ‘Reverse date! Code one!’
‘They’ve changed the console!’ cried Mattie. ‘There’s extra keys with room numbers!’ The box continued to emit its warning signal. ‘I need to put in a number, Abi!’ he said.
There was a pencilled diagram drawn on the inside of the cupboard door. Rooms and numbers. A long thin 3. A wide 1.
‘It’s two!’ shouted Ant. ‘Try two!’ A flurry of beeps came from the cupboard. ‘Five seconds!’ She hit the wall in frustration, and was about to haul Mattie out – when everything went quiet.
‘I did it!’ came the muffled but triumphant voice from under the stairs.
‘Nice work!’ said Ant, exhaling deeply. ‘Now let’s check for medicine and get back to the others. Kitchen first.’
They headed straight for the cupboard above the microwave, which contained only cat food.
‘It was worth a try,’ said Ant. ‘OK, upstairs next.’ They took the steps two at a time, making for the bathroom. If there wasn’t anything here, their search could well be a long one. Ant opened the mirrored medicine cabinet.
‘Yes!’ said Mattie as they saw a large metal tin with a red cross on it. Inside there were ointments, plasters, bandages, painkillers and scissors.
‘You beauty,’ said Ant, replacing the lid. ‘Let’s get this to Jimmy!’ They jumped the stairs four at a time. Through the kitchen in seconds, they stood by the back door. ‘Keys where they always were!’ said Ant.
‘On the hook I put in!’ said Mattie, pointing at a cup hook screwed into the door jamb. Two keys on a brass ring hung from it. The top and bottom locks were undone in seconds, and Ant pushed the handle down. The back door swung open and they looked out across an apparently deserted garden. Then Amos and Daisy appeared from behind the hut, waving them over.
‘Jimmy isn’t going anywhere,’ Daisy told them. ‘We either take him inside or we call an ambulance now.’
‘Then we take him inside,’ said Ant, kneeling down. ‘Amos, help me.’ They both put an arm under each of Jimmy’s and pulled him slowly to his feet. He winced and cried out as his back straightened.
‘Just make it to the kitchen,’ she said to him. ‘We’ll get you cleaned up in no time.’ My God, I’m sounding like Gina, she thought. Ant wondered again about the fate of her foster mother as she guided Jimmy inside.
Once in the kitchen, Daisy pointed at Ant’s stomach. ‘You’re bleeding again too. Me and Amos’ll sort Jimmy, you clean yourself up.’
The shower was cold but Ant needed it anyway. She gingerly eased herself out of her clothes and stepped into the shower cubicle. She watched the dirt and blood wash away, and saw the cut on her stomach clearly for the first time. It stung as the water hit, but she decided she had seen worse. They had a first-aid kit. It had antiseptic cream and bandages – she’d be fine. Her back stung too but she let the water wash over the blistered skin; she wondered how long it would be before she lost the marks of a strutter. Did they ever go?
The euphoria of escape hadn’t lasted long – pain and exhaustion had seen to that. When she stepped out of the shower, the temptation to crawl straight into her old bedroom was almost overpowering. But she forced herself back into her filthy, sweaty clothes because she knew – had known ever since they broke into the house – that they would have to move on.
As she was pulling on her T-shirt, she heard a gentle tapping on the bathroom door. Through the frosted glass she saw a shirtless Jimmy and opened the door.
‘You’re up!’ Ant said. ‘I thought Amos and Daisy—’
He tried a smile but it turned into a painful grimace. ‘I’d rather it was you fixing me . . .’ In one hand he was holding the first-aid box; the other clamped Sam Durrow’s T-shirt to his back. It was now a blood-soaked sponge. Ant peeled it away and the two wounds started bleeding again.
‘You need to lie on the floor,’ she said, taking the box. As he eased his way down, Ant staunched the flow with the cloth and pressed hard. He tensed but said nothing, holding his breath.
‘I’m no expert, but I think Lena did a good job,’ Ant said. ‘Under the circumstances.’ She knelt by Jimmy’s side and lifted the makeshift dressing. ‘You didn’t need to go through this, you know,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’re with us, Jimmy, but you’d have been fine with Frail Mary and the others. You would have hooked up with your mum again. Now you’re wanted like the rest of us and your strap’s been gouged off.’
Jimmy exhaled, then cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t think too deeply about it, Ant. But when you all jumped, I realized that, more than anything else, I wanted to jump too. I’m not going back to prison – not after all this.’ There was a silence before he added, ‘And anyway, prison without you wouldn’t be any fun.’ He felt the pressure ease slightly as Ant hesitated.
‘Yeah, right,’ said Ant. She smiled at him. ‘Always the smooth-talking banker boy.’
OK, where’s this going?
‘No, Ant, it’s true. I’d rather . . . I’d rather be with you than anyone.’ He winced, then kept his eyes screwed shut. ‘See, that wasn’t very smooth, was it?’ He grimaced. ‘And I’m not the banker boy. Just Jimmy Noon.’
Ant relieved the pressure. ‘OK, Jimmy Noon. Point taken. And thanks.’
He changed the subject. ‘That was a neat trick with the windows back there, by the way,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘Yeah, our parents taught us some unusual life skills.’ Her hands had stayed on his back. I guess this counts as an intimate moment, she thought. And actually it feels good.
‘You did some jobs with them?’ he said.
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‘One or two,’ said Ant. ‘A long time ago.’ She wiped away the blood that had seeped through the shirt.
‘Did you get the phone?’
‘Yes. And the cards.’
‘So we can move on?’
‘When you’re ready,’ said Ant. ‘But this needs to be done first or you’ll leave a trail of blood. Hold still, this might hurt.’ She opened the box, then applied the cream and a large gauze dressing. Again she pressed.
‘You’re good,’ he said, wincing again.
‘Gina taught me,’ she said, and they were both silent. Ant made herself focus. ‘Sit up.’ She kept her hand on the dressing and straddled his legs to strap the bandage around his waist. She lapped it four times, then tied it off. ‘Tight enough?’
‘I’ve lost all feeling in my legs,’ he said with a smile, ‘so yes.’
She surveyed her work. ‘Of course, you should lie still for forty-eight hours now.’
‘Great. I’ll bear that in mind. What about your cut? That was pretty bad . . .’
‘It’ll be OK. It’s not so deep.’ She lifted her T-shirt to show him the gash across her stomach.
‘Ouch,’ he said.
‘Yeah, well. I’ll sort it soon. But we should go.’ She stood up and reached for his hand. He took it, his other hand holding onto the door for support. When he was standing, she kept hold of his hand.
Enough misery. Enough terror. Enough pain.
‘Thank you . . .’ was all he managed before she kissed him.
Downstairs Ant joined the others slumped around the kitchen table. Mattie was explaining their burglar-alarm trick, while everyone ate cornflakes and biscuits.
‘I was never supposed to tell anyone,’ he said. ‘But you type in a staff number, then reverse the day’s date. The guy who designed the system worked for our parents. He used it as an emergency back door into the system. The staff numbers don’t change much – he gave us some that are always used.’
‘And you remembered?’ asked Amos, amazed.
Mattie nodded.
‘Quite the thief,’ said Daisy. ‘You should be locked up!’
Everyone but Mattie laughed. ‘I’m only doing it because I have to,’ he said, his face serious. ‘Where’s Jimmy?’
‘In my old bedroom,’ said Ant. ‘It’s all fancy and vile but he’s crashed for a bit.’
‘There’s some frozen pizzas,’ said Mattie, ‘but maybe we’re not staying?’
‘We could lie low here for a couple of hours,’ suggested Daisy. ‘Eat pizza and sleep?’
‘Agreed,’ said Amos.
‘But we have to be invisible,’ said Ant. ‘Doors, windows, shutters – all closed. No lights on. I’m sure whoever lives here is on holiday. The hot water’s off and there’s no food. So this house has to look empty. If anyone comes to check – which they will – it’s dark and locked.’ She pushed the back door shut and turned the key. ‘Assume we’re being watched all the time.’
They cooked the three small pizzas from the freezer, then made some toast with some long-forgotten, frozen sliced white bread. With half-full stomachs, their attention turned to the phone, which was now charging. With the kitchen blinds down, its screen was the brightest light in the room.
Ant typed in the name of her encryption browser. She had accessed the dark web on only two previous occasions, but Dan had taken her through the many levels of security and told her how to access the information she needed. She had remembered every password and every code number. She hit ‘enter’. Her screen went blank and she glanced at the others. ‘I don’t know what we’ll find,’ she said quietly.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Daisy. ‘Just do it.’ Amos and Mattie craned their necks to see.
At last the oblong box and the pulsing cursor appeared. Swallowing hard, Ant typed more letters and numbers, hit ‘enter’ again, and she was in. In its characteristic plain white text on a black background, Ant’s screen filled with information from Spike. Survivors, casualties, reactions from Bug sites around the world. She scrolled down as fast as she could, looking for names she knew. Dan Norton. Gina Norton. Ahmet Shah. Sarah Raath. Mishal Noon.
‘Must be something somewhere,’ she muttered. ‘Where have you all gone?’
She scrolled back more slowly, and found a stream of comments about their escape, and then felt a shot of adrenalin kick into her system. She read the post five times.
Who’s on for the holiday then? Thanks a million.
‘It’s Max!’ she whispered. ‘“Thanks a million” was a Dan rhyme for Maximilian.’
Ant entered her code again and typed:
Hey TAM. Me and my bro need a holiday. And our friends. Come and get us.
She paused. Should she be more obvious? Could she trust the site? She decided to leave one more line.
We don’t know about D and G. How can we talk/meet? Is it safe to leave number?
She hesitated, hoping for a moment he’d post straight back. When nothing appeared, she logged out.
‘News sites?’ suggested Daisy, and Ant nodded, typing again. There were four gasps when the first headline loaded.
LONDON PRISON ESCAPE: THE MOST WANTED
Beneath was a row of photos. The two largest were of Ant and Mattie. They read fast, Ant scrolling down the story.
‘Five confirmed deaths?’ said Amos. ‘We saw more than that . . .’
‘But fifteen escapers sounds about right,’ said Daisy.
‘Biggest police manhunt in years,’ read Ant, and looked up. ‘They’re definitely going to check this house. We have to be ready.’
‘But where will we go?’ asked Daisy. ‘Where is safe?’
‘That’s the point,’ said Ant. ‘Nowhere. So we stay here. We clear everything away. Make it look like it did when we got here. Mattie, can we fix the window? Put the bolt back?’ She pointed at the lounge window they had forced.
‘I think so,’ he said, picking up the brass lock from the floor.
‘And reset the alarm?’ asked Daisy.
He nodded.
Everyone seemed relieved to have a plan. Ant began opening the shutters so that Mattie could get to the window, and caught her reflection – gaunt, tired eyes and hair three days longer than it had been in ages. She blinked her mind clear.
‘OK, we stay here,’ she said, ‘and if anyone comes looking, we are invisible.’
The A4, just outside Marlborough, Wiltshire
Another window, another gaunt reflection. Max hardly recognized himself – the shaved head and sunken eyes staring back at him belonged to someone he’d have avoided in the past. He wondered what Sara would think of his new look, how his parents would react, what Ant would say. He smiled at that last thought; all he needed were some goose tattoos and he’d look like her. He hadn’t seen her for two years – his visits had always been to his parents – but he didn’t imagine she’d changed much.
His new look was the idea of the woman who ran the safe house. She had it all planned. A complete change of image – different, smarter clothes – and Max could pass for an off-duty soldier or policeman. She had driven him fifty miles to the coach so that he could avoid the police at the railway station. He would be in London in two and a half hours.
The news sites now listed all the escaped strutters – his parents weren’t mentioned.
Ant had written Me and my bro need a holiday. Then Come and get us. He couldn’t imagine the circumstances under which she had written that message. Ant and Mattie were clearly on-the-runs and hiding out somewhere. And his parents weren’t with them. We don’t know about D and G. He ran those words over and over. They could mean anything. The Bug sites had nothing, the news sites had nothing. Why the silence? All he knew was that he had to get close to where his parents might be. And that the knot of fear in his stomach felt like it would never leave.
Ant had signed off How can we talk/meet? And he had no idea. He picked up his phone for the third time in ten minutes, entered the multi-layered world of the dark web a
nd checked the Bug sites for messages – any mention of Dan and Gina Norton. Nothing. He had already left a Tell me where you are message for Ant, but now he added, Believe this site is safe. Leave a contact number or address if you can. He added his new phone’s number and exited the site.
Max closed his eyes. The images of the Spike fire filled his head again and he balled his fists. It had taken most of his time in Bristol for him to accept that Ant wasn’t responsible for his parents’ incarceration. A combination of Sara’s gentle persuasion and his mum and dad’s more urgent arguments that they’d have been arrested sooner or later had persuaded him not to blame her for everything. But the truth was, he did resent their fondness for Ant and Mattie, resented their time together, and really resented his new fugitive status.
But he was also convinced that ending heritage crime was a war that had to be fought. And that right now, finding his foster sister and brother was the first battle.
My favourite things RIGHT NOW:
Pizza!
Thinking D and G might have escaped, but don’t think A thinks they have.
Highbury Fields, North London
Ant had wanted her old room back, even if it was for just one night. But Jimmy was still sprawled across the bed, so she was sharing the main bedroom with Daisy. Amos had opted for the couch in the lounge, while Mattie got his room and had shown them the best hiding places if the house was searched. It would, thought Ant, be the grimmest game of hide-and-seek, with the losers getting re-strapped and sent back to prison. She had absolutely no intention of giving Assessor Grey the satisfaction of seeing her captured. She hadn’t given him a thought for many hours, but, reaching under the duvet, could feel his strap-key in her pocket.
And that means you lost.
She cursed him in German, she swore at him in Haitian Creole, then in Anglo-Saxon. Then felt better.
‘Thought you were asleep,’ said Daisy. ‘Who are you talking to?’ She was standing by the curtains, peering through a small crack onto the street. It was her watch, and she was pacing across the darkened room between the front and back windows.
