by John Moralee
Vladimir knew he could only escape if he alluded the agent on the train. He had no choice but to act before the train reached Paddington Station. He moved down the aisle towards the doors. He didn’t rush. He didn’t want the Brotherhood agent suspecting anything.
When he reached the end of the carriage, he grabbed the overhead rail at the same time as breaking the glass covering the emergency-brake button. Immediately after he pressed it, the train lurched and screeched to a halt. The sudden braking sent anyone else standing up tumbling into the aisle. People screamed. He held onto the rail until the train came to a complete stop, then started opening the sliding doors.
They were supposed to automatically open in an emergency, but they were stubbornly refusing. He pried them apart with brute strength as the Brotherhood agent pushed his way down the aisle, elbowing anyone who got in his way. There were barely ten feet and a half dozen people between them.
Vladimir couldn’t allow the briefcase into the enemy’s hands, so he triggered the latches without entering the correct combination. There was a sudden intense flash within as the contents burned to ash. The flash was followed by thick, black smoke, billowing out into the carriage. Other passengers ran away from him into the path of the Brotherhood agent. They thought it was a terrorist bomb!
Vladimire threw the briefcase at the agent, adding to the chaos when the briefcase fell open, its sooty contents filling the air like black snow. The heavy smoke set off the sprinklers, raining down on the passengers. He felt sorry for ruining their day, but glad the agent was being slowed down.
Vladimir jumped out of the train onto the rough gravel at the side of the track, looking up a steep embankment. There was a wire fence at the top, which he ran for, panting hard. Looking back, he saw the carriage filling with harmless, but thick smoke. The first person to reach the exit was the Brotherhood man. He jumped down and pursued him up the embankment.
Vladimir reached the fence and tried climbing it, but he couldn’t get a good grip on the wire mesh. He couldn’t get over it. He ran along the fence, looking for a gap. But there wasn’t one. The fence continued for as far as he could see down the line. The Brotherhood agent was almost upon him.
“Give yourself up, Vladimir! Work for us.”
He stopped running. He knew he couldn’t escape. There wasn’t time. He faced the agent.
“Work for you? You’re insane.”
“I can make you work for us, like I did with your wife.”
“My wife?”
“We captured her this afternoon. All she needed was a touch of persuading to tell us about your courier service. We’ve been following you for hours.” The man held up his hands. He had no weapon. He didn’t need one. His hands were all he needed to control anyone without a Jonah tapeworm. Vladimir did not have one. The agent could turn him against the Alliance with one touch. “Don’t make this hard, Vladimir. Don’t make me run after you. Tell me all you know about the Alliance.”
“Here’s a tip, comrade. Next time you follow someone, don’t wear you’re Nazi ring. It gave you away.” Laughing at the Brotherhood agent, he snapped his false tooth and swallowed it. They would never get the location of Lucas Ravencroft out of him now. “See you in hell, comrade. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Tell me about the Alliance!” the man snarled. He rushed towards him with his hands outstretched, trying to touch him before the cyanide took effect. Vladimir started coughing. The poison was fast. Even as the man touched him, sending the powerful hypnotic drug into his brain, demanding information, Vladimir died with a defiant smile, knowing his secrets were safe ...
The Brotherhood agent stepped away from his dead body, speaking into his phone. “Sir, the Russian agent killed himself.”
“And the information?”
“Destroyed.”
“You should have been more careful,” his boss said. “You were told to follow him – not to be seen. How did he spot you?”
“He was very good, sir. Ex-KGB.” He didn’t mention what Vladimir had said about his ring. He pulled it off his finger, putting it in his pocket. “I am sorry, sir. I failed you.”
“Yes, you did,” his boss growled. “When you return to us, you will be punished with forty lashes.”
“Yes, sir.” The scars would heal quickly, but the pain would be remembered. “We have a bad situation here, sir. He set off the suitcase in front of witnesses and caused pandemonium stopping the train. It will be hard covering up this incident. The media will already know about it from the passengers with phones.”
There was silence for a few seconds. “Good.”
“Good, sir?”
“Yes. I have an idea how we can use his death to our advantage ...”
Chapter Eighteen
The sky was getting dark as Ryan and Saffron said goodbye on the corner of Ryan’s street. He watched her hurry homeward before approaching his front door, unlocking it, and stepping inside, where he paused and listened to the sounds of the TV. He expected his mother in the living room, but he when he sneaked a look in there he found his sister on her own, munching chocolate biscuits.
After finishing work at the bookshop, his sister Rachel liked relaxing by watching the BBC News. Ryan didn’t know why. The news always seemed so depressing and anything but relaxing. That evening Rachel was glued to the latest bulletin. He wanted to go upstairs without her asking him any questions about his day. Unfortunately, she was alert enough to notice him, dressed in his school uniform, which he had changed into before coming home.
“You’re late home,” she said admonishingly, like she was his mother.
He felt sure she knew everything. His Adam’s apple wedged in his throat. “I was doing homework at Saffron’s. Forgot the time.”
She nodded like she understood. “There’s some pizza in the kitchen. Gone cold – so nuke it if you want it.”
“Okay,” he said. “Where’s mum?”
“She was feeling tired again. She’s taking a nap.” Rachel sighed, shaking her head at the TV screen. “Can you believe this story?”
“I don’t know. What’s it about?”
“More terrorism in London. Some nutter tried to kill people on a train. You’d think one day they’d get sick of killing people.” His sister was a member of Amnesty International. She had wanted to study politics at university before their dad died, but her plans had been put on hold because of their mum. “I wish the prime minister would do something, but it’s like he doesn’t care.”
“They probably control his mind,” he mumbled to himself.
“What?” Rachel said.
“Nothing,” he said, relieved she had not heard. That was incredibly careless! He had to be more discreet. One slip up in front of the wrong person ... His sister was looking at him funnily. He had to distract her. “You said the pizza’s in the kitchen - where?”
“Uh-huh – on the table, of course.”
“Great!” he said, faking enthusiasm. “I’m starving.”
His sister turned her avid attention to the next grim news story about poor children dying of treatable diseases in Africa as he slipped out, his heart beating rapidly. He had been so close to letting out the secret by accident. It wasn’t easy keeping secrets. Not big, important ones.
In the kitchen Ryan ran a glass of cold water and added orange juice. The microwaved pizza was soggy and not very nice, but he hated eating it cold. When he went up the stairs, he checked on his mum, feeling the need to see her. If she had been awake, he would have given her a hug. But she was sleeping peacefully under her duvet. The king-size bed looked too large for her on her own. He remembered when he was small enough to crawl into bed with his mum and dad. He had felt as snug as a bug in a rug. The bed looked wrong and empty without his dad in it.
He left the room without waking her.
As he wearily kicked off his shoes in his own bedroom, Ryan thought of his dad in the hospital, knowing he was dying, knowing there was nothing to be done. Suddenly he felt angry and sa
d. He picked up his football and squeezed it to his chest, remembering the good times he had enjoyed. It wasn’t fair they were over. Ryan wished he had known about Jonah before his dad died. Jonah could have saved his dad’s life. It made him realise how big the secret was. There wasn’t a person on the planet who wouldn’t want a Jonah tapeworm if they were sick, old or dying. Jonah was the secret to eternal life.
People would kill for it.
*
Saffron thought nobody in her house had noticed her coming in late until she reached her bedroom. Then she found Neal lounging on her bed, reading one of his Batman comics. Her brother’s dirty trainers were touching her bedsheets. She could smell his sweaty armpits from across the room. The boy never bathed unless he had to. He was a muck factory.
“Hey!” she said. “You’re not invited up here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Neal said. “Private girl-space, yada, yada, yada. Look, we’ve got something to talk about. Didn’t think you want anyone else overhearing our conversation. It’s personal.”
“What about?” she said.
Neal grinned deviously. “You guess.”
“Guess what?”
His eyes were sly and mischievous. “I know what you did today.”
He knew? Her first reaction was panic. How did he know? He couldn’t know. He was bluffing. She decided to act innocent. “What are you talking about, Neal?”
“Oh, I know your secret.”
“I don’t have any secrets,” she lied.
“Really? What if I say my friend Danny’s older brother Shaun is in your class?”
“So?” she said.
“So, Shaun’s got like a huge crush on you. And he asked Danny to ask me why you weren’t in school all day because he seemed to think you were sick or something. Imagine my surprise when Danny told me that! It was news to me. Good news.” His eyes widened. “You skipped school today, didn’t you?”
Saffron wanted to laugh with relief. He didn’t know her secret at all! But it wasn’t something she could laugh off. Not entirely. Neal knew about the truancy. That was a problem. A serious problem.
“I was in school,” she said.
“Yeah, right,” Neal said. “And I’m a swot.” Her brother stood up and walked to her window. He spun on his heels like a Gestapo officer. “Now, let’s see, I was wondering ... should I tell Mum and Dad, mmmmm?”
He could get her grounded for weeks, which would be bad in itself, but it would also mean her parents asking questions she didn’t want to answer. It was crucial Neal didn’t tell her parents about her day off.
“What do you want, Neal?”
“What do I want? Let’s see – a Ferrari would be cool.”
“Seriously. What do you want, you little weasel?”
“Don’t call me names,” he said. “I might have to tell Mum about you skipping school.”
She scowled. “I’ll kill you if you do.”
“Calm down, Saff. All I want is a teeny-weeny favour.” He pulled a crumpled sheet out of his pocket and flattened out the creases. “My stupid teacher gave me some lousy maths homework for tomorrow. You’re good at that algebra stuff. You do it for me, we’re cool.”
Blackmail. Typical Neal. He was too lazy to do his homework. She felt like telling him to get lost, but she couldn’t risk it. Giving in to his blackmail was better than the alternative. She reluctantly took the homework sheet out of his dirt-ingrained fingers. She looked at the twenty questions. Luckily, it wouldn’t take long to complete them as she had done the work last year. “Blackmail, huh? You wouldn’t try this on Shane or Gordon. They’re always skipping school, but you don’t blackmail them.”
“Yeah, I know. But you’re not them, Saff. They’d beat me up if I told on them. They don’t care if Mum and Dad find out about them, anyway. You do, Little Miss Perfect. You’ve got something to lose. Your reputation.”
She wondered if she could appeal to his conscience. “If I do this, you won’t learn anything yourself, you know.”
“Big deal. I hate maths. I’m never gonna use it when I’m a famous movie star.” Neal had delusions of grandeur. He believed he would be an action movie star. The fact that he couldn’t read well enough to learn a script never occurred to him. “When you’re like doing it, make sure you don’t answer all of the questions like correct, okay? It’s got to look like I done it meself. Get a B grade, not an A.”
“That won’t look like you did it,” she said. “You’ve never got a B in your life. You got a D in your last report, remember?”
“This time I’m making a special effort,” he said. “I need to get my grades up because Mum is nagging me. Get me a B and I’ll forget you dodged school today.”
“Okay – but don’t blame me if your teacher’s suspicious.”
“Just do it,” Neal said, “or I tell Mum.”
“You’re evil - blackmailing your own sister.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking it as a compliment. “Well, I got an appointment with COD to shoot some guys. Adios, amigo.”
Neal hopped off her bed and climbed down the ladder, leaving just the whiff of his sour sweat behind. If only I had a tapeworm, she thought. I could wipe my brother’s mind (if he had one) and make him my slave. One touch ... how tempting! She could make all her brothers behave by making them obey her. No more chaos! No more arguments! A quiet house! It was her dream. She imagined what life would be like if she could control minds as easily as Lucas Ravencroft. She could live like a queen if she had a tapeworm implanted.
Without one, unfortunately, Saffron had no choice but do Neal’s homework. She sat down at her desk and started doing it, hoping her brother could keep his big mouth shut.
Chapter Nineteen
Ryan met Saffron before school and told her how he nearly blurted the secret to Rachel. It wasn’t easy keeping secrets. Saffron nodded in agreement and told him about Neal’s blackmail. She had been forced to do his homework.
“Neal won’t tell anyone – but he might blackmail me again.”
“What’d your parents do if they find out?”
“Kill me. Then worse. It’s my own fault. I didn’t know about Shaun’s crush on me.”
“Shaun in our class?”
“Yes, that Shaun. He heard I was sick, so he asked his brother Danny to ask my brother if I was okay. It’s kind of sweet and romantic when you think about it, don’t you think?”
“Not really.” He didn’t like the idea of Shaun having a crush on his best friend. “I thought you didn’t like Shaun?”
“I don’t,” she snapped. “But at least he noticed I wasn’t there. Sometimes I feel invisible when ... never mind.”
She seemed mad at him, but he had no idea why.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Forget it,” she said. “Let’s get to school.”
“We’d better not talk about you-know-who and you-know-what when we’re there,” he reminded her.
“I won’t,” she said.
The day was strange for Ryan. Life at home and at school was the same, but he felt differently about everything. The secret burned inside him. It was like wearing a heavy winter coat on a hot summer’s day while everyone else was dressed in T-shirts. He knew what a relief it would be to share the secret, unburdening himself of the huge responsibility. He wanted his friends to know about the secret history of the world, the Brotherhood, the Alliance, Jonah, Lucas Ravencroft. Keeping the secret was harder than he imagined because his friends asked him why he’d been off yesterday. He hated lying. Each time a friend asked him about yesterday, he felt like telling them what he’d really done.
To stop himself, he imagined what would happen if he did tell anyone. They’d think he was crazy – then tell someone else. Soon someone in the Brotherhood (or working for them) would find out. The Brotherhood would send someone to make him reveal where Mira lived.
They’d probably kill him and Saffron after they had the information.
It was a very long day. He was p
leased when it was over. He met Saffron at the school gates. Her day had been as tough with her friends.
“It’s like everyone knows we have a secret,” she said. “I know it’s silly, but I feel like they’re watching me.”
“Who?”
“Everyone. I feel like I’m a spy in a foreign country. Don’t you feel like that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I can’t trust anyone. Anyone but you.”
Saffron smiled. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me why we’re friends.”
Walking along the high street, they stopped at a newsagent’s shop for some snack foods. The newsagent had a huge selection of sweets, crisps and soft drinks, all of Ryan’s favourites. When Ryan was queuing at the counter, Saffron suddenly grabbed his wrist and squeezed.
“What?” he said, concerned.
Saffron was staring at the newspapers on the counter. “Look, Ryan, look.”
There was a photograph of a man under the headline on the Daily Mirror: Train Bomber Captured, Police Seek Terrorist Gang. All of the newspapers carried the story on their front pages. It was the story his sister had been watching on the TV last night.
Saffron whispered. “That’s him – the man at the train station.”
“He’s a terrorist?”
She frowned. “That’s what it says.”
“We’d better buy a paper.”
“No – buy copies of all the papers.”
“Okay.” He paid for them and they read the full story outside. The papers said the man had tried to set off a briefcase of explosives on a train, but it hadn’t worked. He had been arrested at the scene by undercover police officers. The statements of the frightened passengers described their fear when the man had stopped the train, throwing a suitcase into the crowded carriage. The police believed he was a member of a larger terrorist network.
