In a Split Second

by Sophie McKenzie

  “Where did Aaron go?” I asked, sitting back down next to Jas.

  “He got a message from his mum,” she explained, her face reddening. “Said he had to leave right away.”

  My mouth fell open. No. This was a disaster. We hadn’t even mentioned the birthday party. Taylor would be furious.

  “But he didn’t say good-bye,” I blurted out.

  Jas looked really uncomfortable now. “He asked me to say good-bye to you, to thank you for bringing him here.” She hesitated.

  I groaned, putting my head in my hands. Aaron had gone back to Highgate. I’d completely blown my only opportunity to get an invite to his party.

  “Hey, Charlie.” Jas tugged at my arm.

  I looked up at her. “What?”

  “He . . . he said it was his birthday this weekend,” she stammered.

  “And?” I clutched at her hand.

  “He asked if we’d like to go his party,” Jas went on.

  I stared at her, filling up with relief. Oh, thank goodness.

  Jas frowned. “Aaron said his parents had been strict about the numbers but he was sure he could get four more people in. I think he wanted it to be the four of us who were originally here at the table, but Rosa came over when he was leaving and she dropped such a massive hint about coming that he was forced to invite her. Which means it’s just you, me, and her.” A tiny smile curled around Jas’s lips at the memory. “Though I suppose we could still bring one of the others as well.”

  “Right.” My head spun. I’d gotten my invite, which was great. But Jas and Rosa were invited too, which was seriously not great. Still, I had nearly two whole days to work out a way of stopping them both from coming. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” I said to Jas. “I’m sorry I had to bring Aaron with me this evening.”

  “It’s fine,” Jas said, giving her hot chocolate a careful stir. “His party sounds like it might be fun.”

  “Right,” I said. Whatever else the party might involve, the prospect of trying to make friends with Aaron—with Rosa annoying me and Jas watching in that quiet way of hers—certainly didn’t sound like fun to me.

  NAT

  We were inside. George was nervous, I could feel the anxiety coming off him in waves.

  “Calm down,” I whispered as we crossed the echoey entrance hall and followed WhiteRaven into the League of Iron meeting room. Curtains had been drawn at all the windows and the only lighting came from a series of wall lamps that gave off a dim glow. The effect was probably supposed to be mysterious and atmospheric, but to me it seemed sinister. It was noisy, too. Music was playing—some loud, heavy rock track—on top of which WhiteRaven’s arrival was greeted with a chorus of deep cheers and shouts from about half of the thirty or so people gathered in the room. As on my previous encounter with the League of Iron, most of those present were men dressed in black T-shirts. Nobody seemed to have noticed me and George arrive. We stood, hesitating, in the doorway. Our instructions from Taylor were clear: wait for the undercover EFA agent, Lionheart, to make contact, then do what he ordered to get information on the assassination plot.

  I had no idea why Lionheart hadn’t been able to get the info by himself, but Taylor said Saxon66 kept all the data on paper to avoid hacking and data cloning and was incredibly security conscious.

  “Nat? George?” A very tall man with fair skin and white-blond hair appeared in front of them. He didn’t look much older than George, but there was a still and steely quality to him that I immediately associated with Taylor—and, of course, Roman Riley. For a moment, I wished Riley were here; his calm focus was just what I needed right now.

  I stared at the man. “Who’s asking?”

  “Lionheart,” he whispered.

  I nodded, pressing the earpiece inside my ear. Taylor had been silent since the end of the fake fight with Par. I knew he was holding back, letting the agent on the ground take control, but I felt nervous without Taylor’s reassuring bark in my ear.

  “They won’t talk openly about their plans,” Lionheart hissed. “You’re going to have to steal the file.”

  “What?” George’s mouth gaped. “How?”

  “Cool it, soldier.” Taylor’s authoritative voice murmured in our ears. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

  Even though the comment had clearly been aimed at George, and was hardly a positive one, I felt suddenly more confident. Knowing Taylor was there made everything seem possible.

  “Where is the file?” I asked Lionheart.

  “Back room,” he said. “Saxon stores his papers in a locked safe when he’s here. The combination is on his phone. That’s why I need your help.”

  “What do you m—?” George began.

  “Quiet,” whispered Lionheart. He spun around, an easy smile on his face as WhiteRaven approached us, a man at her side. “Saxon,” he said, opening his arms toward the man. “Good to see you.”

  The two guys clapped each other on the back. I stared at Saxon66’s square, muscular face, remembering the evil words he had spoken at the previous meeting. This was the person who was to blame for Lucas being in a coma.

  I clenched my fists.

  “So these are the boys you found?” Saxon66 asked WhiteRaven.

  “Yeah.” WhiteRaven pointed at me. “This one says he came to a meeting once before.”

  “Is that right?” Saxon66 looked at me. “I don’t remember you. What’s your user name?”

  “AngelOfFire,” I said, releasing my fists.

  “What made you think of that?” Saxon66 asked.

  I shrugged. I’d actually gotten the name from Mum’s book about angels in which my own name, Nathan, belonged to the angel of fire, but I didn’t want to explain that to Saxon66.

  “So how come you haven’t been to a meeting for a while?” he said, eyeing me shrewdly.

  “Not sure; had some growing up to do,” I said, meeting his gaze.

  Saxon66 nodded.

  “I found the pair of ’em kicking the stuffing out of some Paki girl,” WhiteRaven said. “Thought it would be okay to let them come. I mean, tonight’s just a social really, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely,” Saxon66 said. There was a bruise on his jaw, presumably from a fight. “Nice work on the Paki girl, anyway,” he added approvingly.

  I felt sick at the casual hate of his words. It was Par they were talking about. I shrugged, trying to hide my anger. “She had it coming,” I said gruffly.

  “Good,” Taylor whispered in my ear. “You’re doing well.”

  “So do you think you might stick around this time?” WhiteRaven asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  Saxon66 shook his head. “Teenagers,” he said with a grin. “They have commitment issues.”

  WhiteRaven laughed, but I sensed she was doing so only because it was Saxon66 who had spoken, not because she thought he was funny.

  “And you are?” Saxon66 turned to George.

  George gave the username, Rioter, that Taylor had assigned him. He looked scared, in awe of Saxon66 and the others. Still that wasn’t a bad thing. Saxon was a forceful presence without any of Riley’s easy charm. Even genuine League of Iron supporters would surely find him intimidating.

  A few moments later Saxon66 and WhiteRaven wandered off. Lionheart leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Wait for a ‘go’ from Taylor.” He turned to George. “You, stay here. If anyone asks say Nat’s gone to the bathroom.”

  George and I nodded, and then the room fell silent as Saxon began speaking.

  “Welcome,” he boomed. “It’s good to see you all here tonight.” He pumped the air with his fist. “Iron Will forever!”

  As Lionheart crossed the room to join the cheering crowd, Taylor spoke in my ear.

  “Lionheart will get the code then tell me what it is so I can tell you. You need to head toward the back room without making it obvious. Get ready to act on my command.”

  “Yes, sir.” I edged around the wall of the room. Almost everyone
else was gathered in the center, listening to Saxon66 speak the same angry, ugly ignorance that I had heard at the previous meeting.

  “We’re not going to take this lying down.” Saxon’s voice rose. “We are going to use our Iron Will to resist. Are you with me?”

  The crowd roared and cheered.

  George moved nearer to the main group. Everyone was focused on Saxon in the middle.

  I kept back. I was close to the door of the back room now, waiting. My heart pounded and I rubbed my clammy palms down the front of my jeans. I suddenly thought of Charlie. Was she okay? Had she managed to get close to Aaron? How close?

  “Are you inside yet?” Taylor’s voice hissed in my ear, bringing me back to the present.

  I slid silently into the back room. “Yes, sir.” I peered around the door. Nobody was looking in my direction. No one had seen me.

  “The safe’s in the corner, behind the desk,” Taylor whispered.

  I turned and focused on the room. It was lit with wall lights that gave off a ghostly glow. Coats had been dumped on the floor beside a battered old filing cabinet. I headed for the desk. The steel safe was set into the wall behind.

  I knelt in front of it. I’d been shown how safes like this worked on one of our many training sessions. I just had to match the arrow on the knob to the numbers that Taylor gave me.

  “Ready?” Taylor whispered.

  “Go.”

  “Nine. One. Eight. Six. One. Five.” Taylor repeated the numbers.

  I turned the knob, finding each number in turn. Sweat beaded on my forehead but I resisted the temptation to wipe it away.

  “You’re doing fine, soldier,” Taylor’s reassuring voice murmured.

  “Done, sir.” I turned the knob to the final number. The safe door gave a click, releasing under my hand.

  “Open it. Take the file,” Taylor urged.

  My heart drummed loudly as I pulled a worn paper folder out of the safe.

  Footsteps sounded outside. I froze, ducking down behind the desk. The room grew lighter as the door to the room beyond opened. Someone was there. I held my breath, listening as yells rose up from the main room and the footsteps went away again.

  “Hurry,” Taylor urged. “Copy the pages. Now.”

  I took the smartphone Taylor had given me earlier and quickly clicked on each of the three pages. My mind was jumping about too fast to register properly what I was looking at but I couldn’t see the mayor’s name anywhere. In fact, there were hardly any words. All three sheets were covered with numbers; they looked like accounts of some kind.

  “Get out of there, Nat.” The sudden anxiety in Taylor’s voice gave me a jolt.

  “What is it?”

  “Just get out.”

  I slid the phone back in my pocket and the pages back in the folder. A second later the folder was inside the safe and its door shut. I spun the knob, listening for the soft click that indicated it was locked again. There. It was done. I stood up, feeling triumphant, and crept to the door that led back to the main room. People were still shouting, but what had earlier been incoherent yells had now settled into the chanting of a single word:

  “Fight. Fight. Fight.”

  I peered into the room. Everyone had their backs to me. I couldn’t see either Lionheart or George. I slipped into the room. What was happening?

  I crept to the edge of the crowd and pushed my way through. The atmosphere was electric, almost pulsating around me. And then I saw what it was all about: Lionheart and George were fighting in the middle of the group. And George was getting the worst of it, by far. His big fists were in front of his face, but Lionheart was too fast. He swung a punch. It connected with George’s jaw with a sickening crack. George staggered backward. Blood was already trickling from the corner of his mouth.

  I stared in horror.

  “They had to fight to stop WhiteRaven going in the back room,” Taylor whispered in my ear. “Make sure they see you now.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. George was putting himself through this for my sake. And, unlike our fake beating of Par outside, the fight he was having with Lionheart was clearly hurting. The onlookers were too close for Lionheart to pull his punches.

  “Hey, stop it.” I rushed forward.

  Lionheart ignored me but instead of another punch, he gave George a push and George let himself fall over, onto his side, with a groan.

  I rushed over. “Are you all right?” I asked, bending down.

  “You took your time,” George whispered. He gave a convincing moan.

  I lifted him up and hooked George’s arm over my shoulder.

  “Your friend needs to learn some manners,” Lionheart spat. “He should stay away from us.”

  I looked around at the angry faces. I didn’t know what to say, but I sensed if I didn’t get George out of here now, the fight could escalate.

  “I’ll take him out,” I said tersely.

  I helped George to the door. “How bad are you?” I whispered.

  “Bad enough,” George muttered. “The big guy packs a mean punch.”

  “Get outside. Turn left,” Taylor snapped in my ear.

  A minute later we were on the steps of Totton House. I helped George limp along the pavement. We’d only just turned the corner onto the next road when Taylor pulled up in the van. We got inside and I sat back as Taylor examined George’s injuries. George was hyper by now, all full of the stunt he’d pulled with Lionheart to provoke the fight.

  I let him have his moment. A minute later Taylor pronounced George fine other than a few bruises and asked me for the smartphone. I handed it over, hoping I’d been wrong about the assassination data not being in the folder. If that was so, then all our stress and effort and pain had been for nothing.

  I watched Taylor’s face as he clicked on the pages, studying them hard.

  His expression fell.

  “It’s not there, is it?” I said, feeling glum. “The assassination information.”

  “No,” Taylor acknowledged, “it’s not. But we got you through the door and what is here may be useful later anyway.” I looked up. “And we’ve got Charlie on the inside with Aaron too.”

  My stomach gave a jealous twist. “She’s going to his party?”

  Taylor nodded. “Aaron invited her and two others.”

  “What?” That hadn’t been part of the plan. “Which two others?” My mind ran through the friends Charlie would have been with when Aaron asked her. I gasped, as the obvious thought occurred. “He didn’t ask my sister, did he?”

  “Your sister is one of the invited, yes,” Taylor said smoothly. “But don’t worry, Nat, the party’s just a chance for Charlie to get to know the family. Nothing’s going to happen there. Jas will be fine.”

  “Yes, sir.” I sat back again, feeling sullen. No way could Taylor be certain of that.

  CHARLIE

  Before I knew it, the Saturday of the party arrived. Aaron had texted Jas all the details. “He says the venue is a nightclub in Camden,” she told me excitedly. No alcohol officially, obviously, but as Aaron had apparently hinted, we were free to smuggle in our own.

  Alcohol was the last thing on my mind. I was more worried about how I was going to develop my friendship with Aaron when I’d been so awkward and rude the other day and with Jas and Rosa in tow. Thanks to their text chats, it was clear that my original plan to stop Jas coming to the party wasn’t going to work—and Rosa was determined to be there too.

  Then, on Saturday afternoon, as I was getting ready for the party at home, another bombshell dropped. My cell rang—my actual phone, not the latest disposable Taylor had given me. It was Nat.

  “Hi,” I said, instantly self-conscious.

  “Hi.” He sounded worried.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I’ve told Jas I’m coming to the party with you guys and Rosa. Aaron said he could fit in four people. There shouldn’t be a problem and I don’t like the idea of Jas being there with Aaron and all his friends
otherwise.”

  “Right.” I tried to work out what he meant. Was he saying Jas needed some kind of special protection? What from? “Aaron’s cool. I don’t think he would—”

  “You know what I mean. It’s a party. The boys’ll be all over her. And Jas, well, she’s not kick-ass like you. She . . . they could take advantage of her.”

  A miserable hollow feeling swelled inside me. Nat was basically saying he wanted to keep Jas safe from male attention, which meant either that he didn’t think I’d get any myself or, worse, that he didn’t care.

  “I get it,” I said.

  “Okay, well I’ll see you there. You-know-who wants me to run some errand for him in an hour or so, before I get to the club.”

  Nat meant Taylor. He sounded distracted, presumably torn between worry over Jas and irritation over having to do something for Taylor. Either way, he was clearly completely unconcerned about me.

  “See you later, then,” I said.

  We said good-bye and I sat down on my bed. I’d been planning on wearing a glittery top with my jeans and maybe even a dab of makeup, but now I felt too depressed to bother. An hour passed. It was almost 7 p.m. Maybe I’d head on over to Jas’s. Nat had said he would be out running some errand for Taylor, so there was no danger of bumping into him and I couldn’t bear the thought of having to wait any longer at home, with Rosa getting all overexcited across the landing.

  There was a rap at the door. Gail stuck her head around.

  “You looking forward to going out, Charlie?” she asked.

  “Sure.” I forced a smile onto my face. “I think I’ll head over to Jas’s actually.”

  I didn’t think this would be a problem. Brian had offered to give all of us a lift into Camden and drop us at the club for the party start time of eight thirty. I’d rather have gone by myself and arrived a little bit later, but Brian was adamant—he’d even said he’d pick Jas up from her house on the way, so it surely wouldn’t matter if I left from there too.

  Gail frowned. “What about Rosa?”

  “What d’you mean?”

  Gail came in. She closed my bedroom door softly behind her and sat down beside me on the bed. “Do you remember what we talked about a few months ago, when you said you wanted to stay here? About making an effort to get to know Rosa better? I thought going to this party together was a sign things were changing. I imagined the two of you getting ready to go with each other.”