Split Second (26 page)

And I had helped.

No
. I sank back in my seat my head in my hands. The truth was far worse.

I had done the kidnapping.

(n. a violent uprising or rebellion against an authority)

I laid the bomb back on the floor. The numbers of the countdown blinked at me.

1:57 . . . 1:56 . . . 1:55 . . .

How was it possible that I had been carrying a bomb? Had someone switched the parcel I was supposed to take?

1:52 . . . 1:51 . . . 1:50 . . .

Less than two minutes left. I had to stop the countdown. I stared at the bomb, panic rising inside me. Should I pull the wires out of the side? I reached for them, then stopped. Attempting to
yank the thing apart was insanely risky.

I stood up, trying to force my brain to focus. I couldn’t stop the bomb. So I had to get away from it. I shone my torch around the room. There was definitely no way out except back through
the tunnels.

I glanced down at the bomb again.

1:36 . . . 1:35 . . . 1:34 . . .

I turned and pelted away from room 46, through room 45, into room 44. Traffic sounds roared overhead. Light from my torch danced off the walls, glinting on the iron rungs in the corner. I
glanced up at the manhole cover in the ceiling. Should I try to escape that way? Or should I run for it? There was only just over a minute to go. If I tried to run, I wouldn’t get far. And
down here, in this confined space, the fire would get me, no matter how fast I went.

This manhole was my only possible way out of the tunnel system. I raced over. Torch in my mouth, I scrambled up the metal rungs. The hatch above was rusty and fixed with a bolt. Balancing
precariously on the top rung, I pulled at the bolt. It was stiff. Old. Heavy. I took a breath, my heart hammering. How much of the countdown was left? Fifty seconds? Less?

I took my phone from my pocket and drove it hard against the end of the bolt. With a smash, the mobile broke into two pieces. It flew out of my hands, onto the floor, the battery and two
sections of the plastic cover skittering away in different directions across the floor.

I took the torch from my mouth. Swearing loudly, I whacked it against the bolt. The metal creaked and shifted slightly. I drove the torch against the bolt again. The torch’s light went
out. I stood for a moment in the total darkness, the sound of my ragged breathing harsh in my ears. My fingers trembled as I felt for the bolt. It was almost free.

I dropped the torch. It clattered to the floor. Surely there could only be a few seconds left. I pulled at the bolt with both hands, almost slipping off the metal rungs.
Again.
I
summoned every ounce of strength to my arms. Another pull.
Yes.
The bolt scraped back. I pushed at the hatch. It was heavy.
So
heavy. And awkward to raise, especially from where I
was standing, directly below it. I shoved at the metal again, roaring out in fear and frustration.

I was not going to die here. I
had
to live. For Jas. And Lucas. And Mum and Dad.

And for Charlie.

With another shove the hatch opened enough for me to force my hands through. I raised myself up, pushing at the metal with my shoulders. The hatch slid sideways. Cold, night air rushed across my
face. The scream of traffic was all around. Man, I was right in the middle of a road. I turned towards the oncoming cars. A black Audi was almost on top of me. I ducked down, nearly losing my
balance. The Audi passed. Sweat was pouring out of me. How much time? Surely less than ten seconds. More cars were heading towards me. I couldn’t wait. With another roar I pushed up from the
metal rung beneath me, letting my arms take all my weight. I hauled myself up and out of the hatch, then scrambled to my feet. I stood in the road, arms open wide and yelled.

A car swerved to miss me. I raced to the pavement. Another car screeched to a halt. I turned and yelled.

‘Bomb. It’s a bomb. Get away.’

People all around stared at me.

I looked past the traffic. My mouth gaped as I saw what was on the other side of the road, directly above the room where I had left the bomb.

The Houses of Parliament.

‘Run! Run! It’s a bomb!’ There were only seconds left. I turned, still yelling, and ran, hoping people would copy me. My throat burned with the cold air as I rounded the
corner.

Bam!

My feet flew out from under me. I crashed against the pavement. Eyes tight shut. All the breath knocked out of me.

Aaron was still huddled in his corner of the back seat. Why had Taylor made me kidnap him? It was a total betrayal of the English Freedom Army and everything it stood for.

‘Why are you doing this?’ I demanded.

‘Calm down, Charlie.’ Taylor turned around from the front to meet my angry stare. ‘This won’t be a problem for you, so long as you keep following my orders.’

‘What’s he talking about?’ Aaron asked. ‘Why are you taking
orders
from him?’

I looked out of the window. We were zooming past open fields, the outline of distant trees black against the dark navy night sky. I’d seen enough road signs to know we were on the M1,
heading north, but what for?

‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

‘Quiet.’ Taylor turned to the driver. ‘I can’t get a signal here. Turn on the radio.’

‘The driver muttered something as he reached forward and pressed a button on the dashboard.

‘There should be something on the ten o’clock news,’ Taylor replied.

I glanced at Aaron. He caught my eye, his expression a mix of fear and disgust, then turned away again. The radio fizzed into life. An ad was coming to an end. Then the station jingle. And then
an announcer:

‘The news at ten o’clock. Reports of an explosion at the Houses of Parliament are just reaching us. Details are hazy, but emergency services are heading for the scene. The
explosion appears to have been initiated from the warren of tunnels linked to the tube network beneath the edge of the building. The explosion is feared to have left at least two fatalities and
many in—’

Taylor switched off the radio with a grunt.

My mind raced. When I’d last seen Nat, he’d been heading to Covent Garden tube station. Was it possible that the errand Taylor had told him to run was linked to this explosion?

‘Was that a bomb?’ I asked, leaning forward. ‘Was Nat there? Is he okay?’

Taylor said nothing.

‘Nat?’ Aaron sounded horrified. ‘You mean
Jas’s
brother Nat? Is he involved in all this?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘At least I don’t know.’

I sat back as a new fear wormed its way through my head. Suppose Taylor had manipulated Nat, like he had me? Suppose Nat was caught up in a bomb blast? I steeled myself. As soon as the car
stopped, I was going to get myself and Aaron away from Taylor. Whatever it took.

I lay against the pavement, hands over my head. For one, terrible moment I was in the Canal Street market, trying to find Lucas. Then the shrieks and the car alarms brought me
back to reality.

I staggered to my feet and walked around the corner. The scene was one of devastation. A huge hole had been blown in the side wall of the Parliament building opposite. Bricks and cables had been
shot outwards and lay strewn across the road. Smoke rose among the debris. Worst of all, people were lying, motionless, on the street.

Horror filled me. I felt for my earpiece. It should work now I was above ground, but it was gone. It must have fallen out as I hauled myself out of the metal hatch in the road. My phone was gone
too, of course. I leaned against the wall behind me, watching the ambulances arrive and some of the people lying on the ground ease themselves up and limp away.

Nothing made sense. Had Taylor known about the bomb? He
must
have done. He gave George instructions to tell me where to take it, and he’d left the floor plan for me to use too.
But why? I thought it through. There could only be one possible explanation. Taylor must be working with the League of Iron – as a double agent. A bomb under the Parliament building, close to
the House of Commons, was just the sort of action the League would take.

Images from the market bomb flashed into my mind’s eye. I thought of Lucas, in his hospital bed, then I thought of how close I had just come to being killed.

Killing me had been part of Taylor’s plan.

What about Charlie? And Jas? Taylor had sent Charlie to make friends with Aaron. Presumably that was all part of some bigger plan too. I had to warn her. I set off, walking towards the
embankment. I could follow the river to the nearest station, then head north to Camden and the party where Charlie was. I still felt dazed, the past hour a surreal blur.

I walked down to the river. The city was buzzing, alive with the screech of sirens and people hurrying away from the blast site. It was funny how bombs and wars looked so thrilling in movies and
computer games, when the reality was so heart-stoppingly terrifying. The air was colder than ever by the water and, as I turned along the pavement, I started to feel the chill. A minute later I was
shivering so much, I ducked into a newsagent’s to keep warm.

The Asian man behind the counter frowned as he saw me.

‘Go take your drugs somewhere else,’ he snapped.

Man, he thought I was a junkie. I shook my head, still trying to stop shivering. I didn’t dare go further into the shop, but stood in the doorway, hugging my chest and trying to get
warm.

The TV that hung from the far wall caught my eye. It was showing pictures of the carnage from the bomb blast: smoke and broken brick and victims with blankets over their shoulders being helped
away. I wished I had a blanket too. I wasn’t so cold now I was inside the shop, but I still couldn’t stop shivering.

Ignoring the shopkeeper glaring from the counter, I watched the TV as the camera focused shakily on a female reporter.

‘. . . all tube stations have been closed as a precaution and the security services have ordered Parliamentary staff down to the bunkers,’
she said, her hair blowing across
her face.
‘The latest reports we’re receiving suggest this was a terrorist attack. A bomb.’

I gulped. The camera turned to a familiar face.

‘And now we have Roman Riley, leader of the Future Party,’
the reporter said.
‘Mr Riley, you were one of the few MPs actually in the House during the explosion.
Why are you not in the bunkers now?’

Riley’s face was pale with cold, his eyes strained.
‘The emergency services are here, the press are here, the public are here. I’m not running away in the face of this
violence, this cowardice, this horrific attempt to intimidate our freely elected officials.’

‘Who do you think is responsible?’
the reporter asked.

‘What matters now is saving lives. A bomb here, in this place, is an ugly and brutal attack on the very foundations of our democracy. Whoever did this, we have to show them they will
not succeed. I suggest that you and I stop talking right now and see what help we can offer. The police will get to the bottom of the bomb in due course. Let’s focus now on helping all those
caught in the blast.’

‘
Oy
, get out of my shop.’ The shopkeeper was out from behind his counter, fist raised.

I scuttled outside. The air was still cold, but at least I wasn’t shivering quite so badly. I stood on the pavement for a second. I had no phone and barely any money. The reporter had just
said all the tube stations were closed. It would take me at least thirty minutes to walk back to Aaron’s party. Maybe longer. A fire engine sounded in the distance. Roman Riley was at the
bomb scene. He probably had no idea that Taylor had betrayed him and the English Freedom Army. It was, after all, pure chance that I had survived.

Roman Riley was only a couple of minutes away. I had to warn him. Telling Riley what had really happened was not just the right thing to do, it was also the fastest way to get hold of Charlie
and warn her too. Riley would have a phone. Probably also a car. Perhaps I could persuade him to drive me to the party. He’d seemed so kind and concerned when I’d met him before, I was
sure he’d want to help me. And he would certainly want to catch Taylor.

I set off at a run.

‘Okay, I have a signal now.’ Taylor said. ‘Stop the car.’

The driver pulled over by the side of the road. We were in a country lane, on the outskirts of a village. It was dark outside, the sky above pitch black with a sprinkling of stars. We had just
passed two pubs and plenty of houses. Help wasn’t far away, if I could only get away from the car.

Taylor opened his door and got out. As he slammed it shut again the driver pressed the dashboard button twice, re-locking the car. Taylor wandered along the lane, speaking into his mobile. I
thought fast. When he came back, the driver was going to have to unlock the door again. He could, of course, reach across and open Taylor’s door manually, but it was more likely he’d
unlock the door centrally, in the same way as he’d just locked it. Which would hopefully give me and Aaron enough time to escape.

I looked through the window at Taylor again. He was still deep in conversation.

I edged across the back seat towards Aaron. He drew away.

‘Aaron,’ I whispered

‘Get off me,’ he said, his voice full of contempt.

‘Please.’ I wriggled closer.

He put out his hand to push me away but I darted right next to him and leaned my head over so my mouth was hot on his ear. ‘Get ready to run when the door unlocks,’ I hissed.

Aaron hesitated. The driver turned his head, clearly sensing the change in atmosphere.

‘Fine, I’ll get off you,’ I said, as if in response to Aaron. I slid across the back seat again and slid off my shoes. These heels would be impossible to run in.

The driver turned to face the front. For a second I considered trying to get past him to the lock control on the dashboard. No, there was no point. It was too far away for me to reach easily,
I’d be at an awkward angle and the driver was almost certainly armed. Even if he wasn’t he would be quick – all EFA soldiers were fast.