The vomit rose in my throat without warning. I only had time to bend over before bile and acid spurted from between my lips, coating my shoes, the hardwood floor and the edge of the bedding, where it pooled like liquid pearls on the floor. I groaned, reaching out to grip the mattress as my whole body retched again.
“I’m not cleaning that up,” Zane snapped, appearing from thin air behind me. In his arms he carried a large black bag, a zip running the length of it. Without pausing to look at the girl in the bed, he laid it out on the mattress and unsheathed it with a single sweep of his arm. Then, with no trace of empathy or pity on his face, he began to fold her limbs into the bag until she disappeared. I watched him, still bent over, waiting for more waves of nausea. He didn’t look at her face once, not even when he stopped to tuck in the tresses of her hair so they wouldn’t catch in the jagged teeth of the zipper. Sliding both hands underneath her enclosed body, he swung her up and over his shoulder in a practised movement, then padded from the room.
When I was sure I was alone, I stood up and began methodically to strip the sheets from the bed. I was glad I’d ruined them. I would never have been able to sleep on them again. Rolling them up into a ball, I waddled over to the kitchenette and stuffed them into a black bin bag. When Zane came back I’d have him incinerate them. After that, I remade the bed, deliberately choosing something vivid – this time ice-blue satin – to try to wipe the memory from my brain. It didn’t make a difference. I could still see her there every time I caught sight of the bed in the periphery of my vision. A reminder of what happened to those who overheard things they shouldn’t. I wanted to get out of the room, but I knew I had to be there, waiting, when Alexander came back.
He made me wait for hours. Lunch came and went, and I marked the time by eating a disgusting Pot Noodle I’d found gathering dust in one of the kitchenette cupboards. The afternoon dragged by. The evening light was dimming through the large sash windows at either side of the building and the light-sensitive spotlights had flickered on to illuminate the room in a muted glow when he finally strolled through the door. I was positioned for penance, curled up in a ball on the sofa, silent and in silence, the television blank.
I looked at him and he ignored me, walking quietly to his desk and slinging his jacket over the computer chair. I had to clamp down on my lower lip, bruising the soft skin to stop myself from speaking. Alexander fiddled with a few things on the desk, then walked to the very back of the room, where the pool table lay, glistening coloured balls already laid out in a perfect triangle. He strode past the rectangle of bright green felt to where the cues and assorted aids were held against the wall. My eyes widened as I watched him curl his fingers around the glossy shaft of a cue.
He headed in my direction.
Before, I’d had to hold in my words, now I couldn’t have spoken if I’d wanted to. My voice had died, choked into silence by fear as my eyes followed the cue’s progress across the room. Was he going to attack me, beat me to a bloody pulp? I tried to retreat further back into the sofa, but the soft leather refused to yield.
He stopped dead in front of me. His fingers caressed the length of the highly polished maple, a ring on his little finger glinting menacingly, hypnotising me.
“I want to play,” he said, and then he tilted the cue out towards me.
It took a few seconds before I could move. Tentatively I reached out and he surrendered the pool cue into my hands. He half smiled at me, then returned to the pool table, selecting another cue before I’d reached the area.
“I’ll break. You get us both a drink,” he suggested.
I did what he said without a word. I was completely bemused. Where was the anger, the punishment I’d expected?
The sound of crashing balls collided with the clink of ice as I dropped two cubes into each of our glasses.
“You’re spots,” he said as I returned to him. I placed the glasses down on a side table before I picked up my cue.
“I’m not very good,” I said dubiously.
He smiled at me. “I know.”
I was nervous of taking my eyes off him to focus on the white ball, still not convinced this wasn’t a trick to lull me into a false sense of security, but he was waiting for me, leaning in a relaxed stance against the wall, green eyes warm, amused. Swallowing against my better judgement, I dropped into a low crouch, aimed, and sent the white skittling past the ball I was aiming for, instead knocking one of his conveniently over the pocket.
“That’s a foul,” he commented. “Two shots to me.”
He took his two shots and made them six, easily knocking in four balls. I took a single shot, this time managing to hit my own ball, but sending it in completely the wrong direction. He potted another four, moving confidently and smoothly around the table, each time leaving the white perfectly placed to strike another ball. Only the cluster of spotted balls – mine – eventually held him at bay, crowding his single remaining stripe into the edge. On my third attempt I at last potted a ball: the black.
“Does that mean you win?” I asked, as he laughed.
“It does. Try again. Do you know how to rack?”
I nodded. I’d watched him play with Zane or Samuel often enough. He’d never asked me to join in, though. I couldn’t help but wonder why he was being so… nice to me.
I pulled his balls from the pockets and gathered mine from where they lay scattered across the felt, forcing them to coexist inside the plastic triangle. He broke again and the balls went spinning off in all directions. This time none found their way into the pockets, although one teetered on the brink. Alexander glared at it, like he could force it to drop with the power of his mind.
I eyed the ball, determined this was going to be my first mini-victory. I leaned low, lined the white up, drew my hand back, and thrust forward. The white ball shot towards the corner, connected exactly where I wanted it to. Then I blinked, and there was a second sharp crack. The two balls kissed together, then both tried to slide into the pocket but each choked the other in the narrow alley. My teeth snapped together in annoyance. How had that happened?
A bark to my side made me jump. Alexander was laughing, his eyes on my infuriated face. I scowled at him, but that only made him laugh harder. Eventually I was forced to smile ruefully back, though inside I was reeling. We were interacting like normal people, like friends.
I froze as his fingers wrapped themselves around my cue. He took it from me, then moved to stand behind me, curving his body round mine.
“You’re lining up all wrong,” he said.
His weight pushed my upper body down until we were both leaning over the table.
“See the white? You need to hit just below the middle. There,” he slid the pool cue through my slack fingers until the chalked end lightly tapped the white. “And don’t hit it too hard, or it’ll bounce back. We’ll aim for that stripe.” His fingers pointed to a ball mid-table, then closed over mine, guiding my hand back and forth until he stroked forward. The white cruised across the felt, pushing the ball into the middle pocket where it fell with a satisfying thunk.
“See?” His body shifted away from mine and I immediately straightened up. My heart was pounding, from fear… and something else.
I twisted round to find myself face to face with him, his eyes inches from mine and burning into my soul. He reached up a hand and tugged my fringe.
“I really do like the blue,” he said softly.
Then he grabbed me by the waist, lifted me up onto the table. A hand cupping my chin, he kissed me, tenderly as a lover. I kissed him back, my eyes open, watching him warily, but as the movement of his lips intensified I found them closing. My legs wrapped themselves around his middle and he carried me awkwardly to his bed, his mouth never leaving mine. Slowly he undressed me, then he took me, and he was the gentlest he’d ever been.
Soon afterwards his quiet snores filled my ears, and I cried myself to sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
The morning dawned chilly and grey,
and with it Alexander’s strange warmth faded, replaced by cold indifference. He barely spoke to me, except to snap orders. I was bewildered, but oddly relieved, by this return to normality. At least I knew where I stood, and I had perfected the obedient, mousey persona that I withdrew into.
I didn’t leave Alexander’s office for the whole day, spending prolonged bouts on my own with nothing but the quiet rasp of my breathing for company. The next three days followed the same pattern. I left only to spend frustrating hours in the basement with Samuel, where I recited road names and camera positions and checked, rechecked and triple-checked the wiring on the biggest bomb I’d ever seen. I knew everything about the job – the journey, the bomb, the complicated route to the base of the wall. The only thing I didn’t know was when I was going. That was kept a secret from me, until the moment Samuel turned to me from the desk around which he, Zane and Alexander were crowded, and fixed me with a sombre look.
“It’s time.”
‘Time’ was late afternoon on a Friday. There was no warning, no preparation, no chance to gather myself. I collected my jacket and, without so much as a goodbye from Alexander, the two of us left his office. We headed to the ground floor, out of the front door, down the steps, then Samuel walked me to the passenger side of the waiting car. I stared at him, suspicion beginning to tingle at the base of my spine.
I sensed rather than saw a figure already sitting in the driver’s seat.
“You’re not coming,” I accused.
I finally understood why he’d insisted that I know the plan inside out, from every angle; why he’d made me go over, again and again and again, every minute detail.
“I’m not coming.” Samuel’s eyes were hooded by the encroaching night, his expression unreadable.
“But… but you always come with me,” I said.
I’d never done a job without him before. At least, not this type of job.
“Not this one,” he replied. “Alex needs me to stay here.”
“Oh.”
I felt a sudden anxiety swirl in my gut. It left me unbalanced, disorientated, like I was drunk. He must have heard the uncertainty in my voice, because his lips twisted up into a smile.
“You’ll be fine, Lizzie,” he promised me. “You will be.”
Then he did something really odd. He hugged me. Just quickly, for a second or two at most, letting his chin rest briefly on the top of my head before he pulled back. I caught the scent of his aftershave, the heat of his body under his clothes. My fear vanished, replaced with a feeling of complete and utter security, but it was all too brief. As he let me go, I felt the weight shift in my left jacket pocket. I frowned and opened my mouth, but he put a finger to my lips, shook his head infinitesimally. He dropped the finger to my shoulder, and pushed me down into the car.
“You’ve got the phone?” he asked Cameron.
My driver nodded back curtly, then twisted the key hard in the ignition. The engine roared to life as Samuel shut my door. I gazed at him through the window in the short second before we pulled away, searching for reassurance, for an answer to the puzzle in my pocket, but his face was carefully blank.
I waited until we’d driven out of Stepney, heading north on the Westway, taking the long route to the M4 that avoided the Central Zone, before I let my fingers slide into my pocket. They closed around two things: a small rectangle with a criss-crossed surface that I was almost certain was a phone keypad, and a crumpled bit of paper. A note? Why was Samuel passing me a note? Why not just tell me? I looked to my right, at Cameron. He stared straight ahead, ignoring me completely. Slowly, cautiously, I eased the paper out of my pocket. Then I stopped. There was no way to read it without Cameron noticing. It was too dark in the car, I’d have to hold it right up for the passing streetlights to flash in and reveal whatever was written there. Grimacing, I returned it to the depths, took my hand out and stuck it firmly between my thighs.
Forty-five minutes later I decided enough time had passed.
“Cameron, can you pull over? I really need to go.”
He looked at me in total disbelief.
“Please Cameron.”
“I’m not stopping,” he said flatly.
“Please,” I beseeched. “Even if you just pull over at the side of the road. It’s an emergency.” I bounced up and down on the seat a little to emphasise the seriousness of my words.
“We left less than an hour ago. How can it be an emergency?” He shook his head, his foot firmly down on the accelerator.
I bit my lip. “It’s a girl thing,” I said. “I’ve got… y’know.”
I hoped he was too ignorant of the biological workings of females to argue. He looked at me, clearly irritated, but uncertain.
“And you have to stop, right now?”
“Yes!”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, then slammed his foot on the brake and skidded into a lay-by.
“You have three minutes,” he warned.
I jumped out of the car and slipped and slid my way down a short grass embankment. Just in case he checked, I yanked my jeans open, then hunkered down in the grass. Thankfully there were no houses on the short stretch of road, and little passing traffic at this time. That also meant that there was very little light, but I’d brought my tiny flashlight with me and I twirled the top to turn it on. Risking a quick glance behind me to make sure Cameron was still safely behind the wheel, I drew out Samuel’s note. I recognised the handwriting at once. The scrap of paper was filled with his angular block capitals.
DON’T TELL CAMERON YOU HAVE A PHONE.
IT CALLS ME. ONLY IN AN EMERGENCY.
S.
I gawped at it, perplexed, for a long moment, then stuffed it and the torch quickly back into my pocket. I’d heard the soft click of Cameron’s door opening.
“Hurry up!” he growled, sounding far too close. Craning my neck I saw that he stood feet away, at the top of the embankment. Had he spotted me stowing away the note?
“Right!” I snapped. I half turned, my hands gripping the top of my jeans. “Turn around!”
He looked at me suspiciously, but did as I asked. Thirty seconds later we were back in the car, speeding off towards the motorway.
“I’m not stopping again,” he said, slamming the car into fifth gear and pushing as close to the speed limit as he could go, sending us rocketing over potholes and sections of riveted tarmac.
I ignored him, folding my arms and staring out of the side window. My head was spinning, and an ominous nausea was creeping into my stomach. I didn’t understand why Samuel would not want Cameron to know that I had a phone. Unless there was an extra part to the plan that Cameron knew, but I didn’t. And Cameron would only do explicitly what he’d been told by his boss. So what did Alexander have in store for me?
I felt the shape of the phone through the fabric of my jacket. I wasn’t sure that I was altogether reassured by its presence, because now I knew there was something to be scared of.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t realise we had reached the end of our journey until Cameron yanked up the handbrake and killed the engine. The sudden stillness shocked me awake.
“We’re here,” he announced unnecessarily.
I nodded, staring out of the windscreen. Night had fallen as we’d driven across the English countryside and the scene before me looked nothing like it had when Samuel had taken Cameron and me on the scouting mission. It was nothing like the map I’d constructed in my head.
The ground directly in front of us was submerged in inky blackness, but beyond that the world was brilliant white, blinding. Floodlights sent pools of yellow light into the searching dark, whilst sweeping searchlights illuminated the remaining shadows in arcing semicircles.
“It’s almost nine,” Cameron said, checking his watch. “You have half an hour.”
I nodded again, refusing to turn my head to look at him. I couldn’t drag my gaze away from the brightness.
“Lizzie…”
“I know!” I snapped. Adrenaline and panic were beginning to thrum their way through my system, and Cameron’s pugnacious tone shredded the last of my nerves. He raised his eyebrows at me, annoyed, but I stared him down. I was the one about to try to outsmart one of the most heavily guarded structures in the country, not him.
I shut my eyes and tucked my chin into my chest, gulping in several deep breaths. Then, without looking at the wall, I got out of the car. Reaching into the rear, I pulled out a rucksack and slung it on my back. It was my delivery package.
“Here?” I asked, ducking to look at Cameron’s silhouette.
“Here,” he agreed, then he turned away. No good luck or goodbye. If I didn’t return in an hour or so he’d give me up as dead and drive home, and he’d probably enjoy the journey a whole lot more.
I shut the door, wishing for the thousandth time that night that Samuel was in the driver’s seat, and turned to face the dark and light before me. Then the strangest thing happened. A calm spread throughout my body, stilling my pounding heart and clearing my befuddled brain. Every nerve tingled with energy. I felt alert; I felt ready. Tightening the straps on my backpack, I jogged slowly forward.
For the first half mile I met nothing. This road went no further, the nearest town was miles back the way we’d come. Only the wall lay ahead, imposing and impenetrable. The first indication that I was reaching the government’s border defences was a sign stating ‘ROAD END’. I ignored it, and the one that followed twenty metres later. Fifty metres after that I met a barrier. On either side, tight curls of barbed wire wound across land that had been left to grow wild. I paused several feet before the horizontal wooden bar, its red and white warning stripes hidden by the night. I knew that it was fitted with motion detectors. Another pace forward and I’d be surrounded by bright light, and moments after that by armed men. Instead I stepped off the road, feeling my feet sink into the softness of long, wet grass. I counted seventy-six paces, stretching them to match the stride of a man, then stopped and faced the wire. If Samuel’s informants were right, I was in a foot and a half of no-man’s-land where the motion detectors couldn’t see me. Time to find out.
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