Split Second Page 19

  “Yes, sir.” My heart leaped for joy. If that was all I had to do, I could be back at the party with Charlie in less than half an hour.

  “Go,” Taylor urged. “We’ll lose contact once you’re belowground, but you have to wait for Lionheart. Stay on the platform until he gets there.”

  “So how long will—?”

  “Just follow the freaking order, Nat. Do you have the floor plan on your phone?”

  “Yes, sir.” Muttering under my breath, I headed into the elevator. The bag weighed heavily on my back. I wondered what kind of important information on the League of Iron was inside it. There was no point asking. All I’d get out of Taylor would be an irritated: ‘Classified.’ My thoughts drifted to Charlie again as I walked to the southbound platform then stood waiting. There was no sign of Lionheart on the first tube. Or the next. Or the one after that.

  I waited as people got on and off each train.

  And I waited.

  Ten minutes passed and still Lionheart didn’t appear.

  I started to worry. I wanted, more than anything, to head up to ground level and ask Taylor what was going on, but I didn’t dare. Taylor had told me to wait down on the platform and if I left I was likely to miss Lionheart’s arrival. Another train stopped. Still no sign of him. The platform cleared. What had happened? I decided to give Lionheart another five minutes, then I was going up to ground level and I didn’t care what Taylor said.

  “Nat!”

  I turned to see George flying along the platform toward me, his face consumed with panic. He rushed up, panting for breath.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “The mission’s been compromised,” George gasped. “The League of Iron has found out about the information you’ve gotten. They know about Lionheart, too. They’re on their way down here right now. Taylor says we have to get out of the station.”

  My heart thudded violently. Steadying the backpack on my shoulder, I took a step toward the exit.

  “Not that way,” George said, grabbing my arm. “Taylor said we had to go through the door at the end of the platform. He says you’ve got a map? A floor plan?”

  I stared at him. “What’s that got to—?”

  “Taylor knew it was a high-risk mission so he made sure you had a fallback, just in case,” George explained. He tugged at my arm and pointed along the platform. It was filling up fast. The next train was signaled to arrive in two minutes.

  “Why don’t we just wait? Or get on a tube?”

  “No time,” George insisted. “Don’t you get it? Saxon66 and his men know about us. They’re here, trying to find us. Now.”

  He raced off. Steadying the backpack again, I charged after him, along the platform to the door at the end.

  CHARLIE

  Taylor’s text told me to go to the ladies’ room—which was just along the hallway—and retrieve a package from the end stall. Mystified, I hurried along to the bathroom. I checked my face in the mirror as I passed. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes shining.

  It was because of Nat.

  I could still feel his fingers on my face and the soft touch of his lips. I had never felt like this in my life. I wanted to yell out, to tell the girl emerging from the middle cubicle that the most amazing thing had just happened. I almost couldn’t contain it—but of course I did, simply scurrying over to the end stall and shutting the door. I felt for the package, which was, as Taylor had said it would be, taped to the underside of the cistern, hidden from view. I pulled it free from the tape that held it in place and brought a large padded envelope out into the light.

  The envelope contained something hard. I ripped off the end and pulled out a slim black box with an earpiece taped to the top. The box was locked with a number combination, so I tucked it under my arm. I peered outside as I put the tiny earpiece in my ear. The bathroom was empty, the doors of all five other stalls swinging open, no one at the sinks.

  “Taylor?” I whispered. “Are you there, sir?”

  “I’m here,” Taylor said. He sounded tense. “Do you have the package?”

  “The box?” I said. “Yes, sir. What’s this ab—?”

  “The assassination is tonight,” Taylor interrupted.

  “What?”

  “The League of Iron is sending someone to kill the mayor, his wife, and their son. Tonight.”

  “What?” My head spun. “Kill Aaron? Are you—?”

  “Sure? Yes,” Taylor snapped. “We don’t know who they’re sending—probably three separate hitters—and we don’t know exactly when or how. But it will take place in the next hour.”

  I sat down hard on the toilet seat behind me. How could this be happening? We were at a party for goodness sake. Nat had kissed me. Aaron was in the next room dancing.

  “Charlie?” Taylor’s voice was like steel.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You need to focus.”

  “Yes, sir. What do you want me to do?”

  “Get hold of Aaron. Tell him he has to leave.”

  “But what about the police?” I said, my stomach shrinking inside me. “What about Aaron’s parents? Where are they?”

  “The police are compromised, they won’t move against the League of Iron. Or rather, they’ll deliberately wait until it’s too late. I have an agent on her way to get the mayor and his wife. But there’s no time to wait for her to get to you, too.”

  “There’s a bouncer at the door. I could get him to help. He—”

  “For all we know he could be one of the hit men. It’s down to you, Charlie. Our agents are getting the proof we need to expose the League of Iron right now. But we have to stop them from getting to Aaron. Which means you taking him out the fire exit at the back, down the fire escape. I’ll meet you there. Hurry, there’s no time. It could already be too late.”

  I stood up, my legs shaking. “How am I going to get Aaron to leave his own birthday party?” I asked.

  “You’ll have to force him. Use what’s in the box, your birthday date and month is the combination: 259,” Taylor said. “Now, go. I’ll be listening in. Run.”

  I raced out of the cubicle, barged past a posse of giggling girls, and ran back into the party. The music hit me as soon as I entered the room—and the air, hot and crackling with excitement and energy.

  The black box was still in my hand. Clutching it tightly, I circled the dance floor. There was no sign of Aaron. I pushed my way into the crowd of heaving bodies, earning myself angry glances as I shoved dancers aside. I passed Rosa, gyrating alongside a group of other girls I didn’t know. For a second I felt a stab of protective anxiety. For Gail and Brian’s sake, I needed to make sure Rosa didn’t get caught up in the assassination attempt. Rosa saw me and waved. Ignoring her, I turned and pushed my way out of the throng. I circled the room once more. Still no Aaron.

  “I can’t see him,” I yelled over the music.

  “Try the back.” Taylor’s voice was urgent in my ear.

  I darted past the dancers and raced through the door marked STAFF ONLY. The fire door Taylor had mentioned was just a few yards away, but no Aaron. I ran along the hallway and around the corner. I stopped in my tracks.

  There was Aaron. He was kissing someone . . . a girl with long dark hair. They were so close together I couldn’t see her face. Then Aaron stood back and I realized who it was.

  Jas.

  My mouth fell open. Jas opened her eyes and saw me. She shrieked. Aaron turned and his already-red cheeks blushed scarlet.

  “Charlie,” he said, running his hand over his tousled hair. “Er . . .”

  “You have to leave,” I said, trying to focus on my mission, rather than the fact that Jas and Aaron had just been eating each other’s faces.

  “What?” Aaron frowned.

  “Leave. Now,” I said. “There are people coming to kill you.”

  “What?” Aaron repeated. A smile faltered on his lips. “You’re joking.”

  “Charlie, what’s—?” Jas started.

  “I�
�m serious. You have to go.” I took a step toward them. Aaron put his hand around Jas’s shoulders, pulling her close. It was a protective gesture, as if I were the enemy. Didn’t he get it? I was trying to save his life. “Come on!”

  “Calm down, Charlie.” Aaron smiled for real now, his dimple appearing in his left cheek. “I get it. Good joke. But enough, already, okay?”

  “I’m not joking. I—”

  “It only just happened, Charlie,” Jas butted in. “I’m sorry, I guessed how you felt about him, but . . .” She trailed off, looking close to tears.

  What was she talking about? Aaron patted her shoulder. Oh my goodness. They thought I was telling Aaron to leave because I’d caught him with Jas, because I was jealous.

  “This isn’t about me,” I pleaded. I turned to Aaron. “It’s the League of Iron. They want to take you out. And your parents. You have to come with me now.”

  “Don’t be crazy,” Aaron said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Jas shook her head. “How could you possibly know what the League of Iron is doing?” she asked.

  “Do not mention the EFA,” Taylor warned in a terse whisper.

  “I can’t tell you.” Panic rose inside me. I was painfully aware of the seconds ticking away. Any moment, an assassin could burst in.

  “Box.” Taylor’s low growl reminded me of the small black package in my hand. “Use what’s in the box.”

  “We’re going back to the party,” Aaron said firmly.

  “No. Wait.” My fingers fumbled as I rolled the numbers on the combination to the day and month of my birthday—259—and lifted the lid of the box. I blinked with shock at the small, black Glock pistol that met my eyes.

  Aaron took a small step toward me, his arm still around Jas’s shoulders.

  “Stop.” There was no more time. I took the gun out of the box and pointed it straight at Aaron’s forehead.

  Aaron’s eyes widened. Jas gasped.

  They both looked utterly terrified. I hardened my heart. They would understand when they were safe. I had no choice. Drawing on all my training, knowing that I had to make them believe I would use the gun, I narrowed my eyes and pointed toward the fire exit.

  “Outside. Now,” I ordered. “Or I’ll shoot.”

  NAT

  The door at the end of the tube platform would surely be locked. Even as I watched George reach for the handle, I was convinced it would remain shut, that there was no way through. But to my surprise the door opened easily. I glanced over my shoulder, back along the platform. Saxon66 and two other, black-shirted men appeared at the far end. They were looking around.

  “They’re here.” I tightened my grip on the backpack. My palms felt clammy with sweat.

  “Go.” George stood back, holding the door open. “Taylor says to follow the tunnels using your map. You’re in room three now. Someone will meet you in room forty-six. You have fifteen minutes to get there.”

  “Aren’t you coming?” I said.

  “I’m the decoy.” George smiled. Then he shoved a tiny flashlight into my hand, turned, and raced away, disappearing into the oncoming crowd.

  I watched him go, feeling uneasy. The platform was full of people now, mostly either looking down at their phones or up at the electronic destinations board. I slipped through the door and closed it swiftly behind me. I was in a dark room that smelled of dust and damp. A breeze blew around my legs. I switched on the small flashlight George had given me. The room was square, with metal pipes running along the walls. I focused on the map on my phone. It showed a series of lines and boxes. Each box had a number. I found “3.” George had said that was this room. I searched for the number “46.” There it was. That was where I had to head for. Man, it looked miles away. How was I going to get there in just fifteen minutes?

  I set off. The network of tunnels I was following seemed to be completely separate from the tube line, though at first I could still hear the trains rumbling past on the other side of the thick, damp, brick walls. The bag over my shoulder grew heavier and heavier as I walked. Soon the draft around my legs died away, and then the sound of the tube trains faded too. Several of the doors had, clearly, once been boarded up or padlocked. In two cases the padlocks hung off chains that had been cut clean through with bolt cutters.

  Questions raced through my head. Who had come down here ahead of me and opened all these doors? Where did the tunnels lead? And what was in the bag I was carrying? If I hadn’t been under such time pressure, I would have stopped and looked, but I had only a few minutes now to reach room 46. Who was going to meet me? Was it Taylor himself? I had to admire him. He might be irritatingly officious sometimes, but tonight his thoroughness in having prepared a backup plan had probably saved me from being caught by the League of Iron.

  I just hoped that George was all right—and Charlie too, back at the party. I checked the time again. Only a couple of minutes until I had to be in room 46. I sped up, jogging through the next dusty tunnel. The bag with the package felt heavier than ever, a solid weight against my back. If the next part of my mission went smoothly, maybe there was still a chance I could see Charlie again this evening.

  The underground world was dark and silent. My flashlight caught a couple of mice scuttling out of the way as I reached room 39. Yet despite the shadowy gloom down here, I didn’t feel scared. Just preoccupied with concern for George and a desire to be with Charlie as soon as possible.

  I kept running. I stopped for a second in room 44 to catch my breath. I could hear traffic immediately above my head. I must have been walking gradually uphill for a while to be so close to the surface. It felt weird to think I was under roads. I shone my light around the room. Metal pipes ran along one wall. The light glinted off iron rungs that led up to a rusty manhole cover in the ceiling.

  I shuddered, imagining the asphalt and all the cars and the buildings on either side pressing down on me. Then I moved through another tiny room and into my final destination, room 46.

  No one was here. The traffic noises had subsided too. Did that mean I was underneath a building now? I shone my light around the room. There wasn’t much to see: the same bare floor and brick walls as elsewhere.

  Where was my contact? George had said that I should get here within fifteen minutes, implying that whoever was meeting me was operating on a deadline. I frowned. I had made the journey through the tunnels within the given quarter of an hour, so my contact should already be here, shouldn’t he?

  What was I supposed to do now? Just wait? I peered around the room. I seemed to have reached the end of the tunnels. How was the person meeting me going to get here except along the same underground network I had just run through?

  I laid the backpack carefully on the floor. I wondered again what exactly was inside it. Taylor had said that it contained information that could potentially bring down the League of Iron. What on earth did that mean? The information certainly wasn’t paper-based. The bag was too heavy for that.

  I shone the light around the room again. There was definitely no sign that anyone else had been here. I was supposed to wait to hand over the bag, but what if something had happened to whoever was due to meet me? No way was I going to retrace my steps carrying that heavy backpack without at least taking a peek inside it. It was totally against the rules, of course, but I was quite alone here. No one would know that I’d taken a look.

  Without thinking about it any more, I opened the top of the bag and peered inside. The package inside was wrapped in some kind of green material. I shone my light more closely. It was a scarf . . . with the League of Iron’s emblem printed across it in blacks and browns. I had seen one just like it in the house Charlie and I had broken into.

  My heart beat faster. I hadn’t expected that. Did this mean the package inside the scarf had been stolen from a League member? I had to see what it was. Holding the flashlight between my teeth, I drew the heavy package gently out of the backpack, placed it on the floor, and peeled the edge of the scarf away. Some sort of
metal container was underneath. I folded back the rest of the scarf, freeing a cube of metal about the width of a shoe box. Two wires poked out of the side. I turned the box over. A display screen was running some kind of countdown.

  2:24 . . . 2:23 . . . 2:22 . . .

  What the hell was this?

  A split second later, I realized. It was a bomb.

  I stared at the numbers, numb with horror.

  2:13 . . . 2:12 . . . 2:11

  The box was a bomb. And it was going to go off in two minutes.

  CHARLIE

  I held the Glock steady, the barrel pointed at Aaron’s head. “Move,” I ordered.

  “What are you doing?” Jas’s hands flew to her mouth.

  “Come on, Charlie, this isn’t funny,” Aaron protested.

  “I’m not laughing.” I had to get Aaron out of here now. I turned the gun on Jas. “If you don’t move now, I’ll shoot her.”

  Jas gasped.

  “Okay.” Aaron grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Whatever, I’m moving.”

  I kept my gaze on him steady. In the distance the party music changed to a bass-heavy dance track. Aaron edged past me to the fire exit.

  “Please, stop, Charlie,” Jas pleaded.

  “It’s for his own safety,” I said.

  “Where are you going?” She was crying. I kept my eyes on Aaron who had reached the door.

  I bit hard on my lip, trying to block the feelings of guilt that swamped me. I wanted to run over and put my arms around Jas and explain properly, but I knew I had to stay focused on the mission. I had to get Aaron out of here.

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

  My resolve strengthened. I could explain to Jas later.

  “Take me, too,” she sobbed.

  “No,” Taylor snapped in my ear.

  “No,” I said. Aaron was the target. Until he was safe, anyone anywhere near him was in danger. “I can’t, Jas. You have to trust me.”

  “I don’t understand.” She wept.