Agent 21 (5 page)

Only it hadn’t
been
food poisoning. If the strange old man was telling the truth, it had been something else.

Back in his tiny room, he sat on his bed and held the framed picture of his mum and dad. They looked very happy in it, and Zak felt anger rising up in him. They shouldn’t be dead. There was more to this than anyone had told him. And he felt angry with Michael too, whoever he was. He should have just said then and there what had happened to them . . .

Zak fished the business card from his jeans pocket. It was a bit scuffed and crumpled now. He stared at the number for a full five minutes. Calling it couldn’t do any harm, surely . . .

Once he’d made the decision, he moved quickly. His uncle and aunt were still out, so he hurried downstairs and found the cordless phone sitting on a coffee table in the front room. His brick of a mobile phone had given up the ghost weeks ago and his guardians hadn’t thought it necessary to replace it. He took a deep breath, then dialled the number.

There was no ringing tone. Just a click and then silence.

‘Er . . . hello?’ Zak said.

No answer.

‘Er . . . this is Zak. Zak Darke.’ He felt a bit foolish.

‘
Have you come to a decision?
’

The voice was low. It sounded weird, as if it had been distorted in some way. It certainly didn’t sound like Michael.

Zak closed his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I have.’

The voice continued. It was totally lacking in emotion.

‘
If you have anybody to say goodbye to, do it now. This is the last time you’ll see them. It’s better that way for them, and for you. Do not, repeat do not, suggest that you are going anywhere. We will come for you tonight
.’

‘What do you mean you’ll come for me? When . . .?’

But the voice was gone.

A noise outside the room. It was somebody coming into the house. Zak guiltily dropped the phone back onto the coffee table just as Aunt Vivian walked in. ‘Who were you talking to?’ she demanded, her eyebrows furrowed in irritation.

‘Nobody.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Zachary. I saw you put the phone down. Who were you talking to?’

‘The speaking clock.’ He raised his watch. ‘It’s running slow.’

His aunt narrowed her eyes. ‘That’s expensive,’ she said. ‘I’ll deduct it from your allowance.’

Zak felt himself flaring up, but he mastered it. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’ He left the room and trudged up the stairs. On the landing he realized that his hands were shaking and it took several deep breaths to get control of himself.

Ellie’s door, which had been closed, was slightly ajar. He knocked lightly.

‘Come in,’ his cousin called.

Ellie was sitting up in bed reading a book. ‘Hi.’

Zak nodded in return. ‘How you feeling?’ he asked, and his voice cracked slightly.

‘So so,’ Ellie replied. She narrowed her eyes. ‘How about you?’

‘Er . . . fine,’ he said. ‘I think.’

‘What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

He gave her a weak smile, then sat on the edge of her bed and took one of her hands in his. ‘Look, Ellie, I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for everything. For looking after me.’

She looked at him strangely, but didn’t say anything.

‘I just wanted to tell you, I’m going to be OK.’

‘I know you are, Zak. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?’

Zak frowned. He wasn’t sure at all. He felt like he was in a fast-moving river and he couldn’t do anything
except go with the current. Getting out of the water was impossible.

‘Can I trust you?’ he asked.

‘Of course you can. Zak, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?’

‘Something’s about to happen,’ he heard himself saying. ‘Don’t ask me what. I want you to know I’ll be safe.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I don’t know,’ Zak said. ‘Not yet. But we never had this conversation, all right? Don’t tell your parents, don’t tell anyone. It’s for your own safety, and theirs.’

He saw tears in Ellie’s eyes. ‘Zak, you’re scaring me. What’s happening?’

But he couldn’t tell her. He bent down, put one hand on her shoulder then kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then he returned to his bedroom.

There was only one thing he could do now, and that was wait . . .

The house was silent.

Zak had waited until he’d heard the sound of his uncle and aunt going to bed. They had checked on Ellie, but not him, switched off the landing light and retired to their room. He lay quietly for another ten minutes, before slipping out of bed and changing from his pyjamas into some warm clothes. Once he was dressed, he climbed back under his duvet and lay on his side, watching the glow of his bedside alarm clock.

Watching and waiting, with butterflies in his stomach.

Midnight came and went. The house creaked and groaned, just like it always did. Zak remembered the time when he was much smaller and used to be scared of those sounds in the house where he’d grown up, until his dad had explained that it was just the beams contracting as the temperature dropped.

One o’clock. He was so wide awake it might as well have been midday. His mouth was dry with anticipation.

But then two o’clock arrived. The night was ebbing away and nothing was happening. Zak began to feel slightly foolish. Perhaps he should go to sleep and forget all about it . . .

It was eight minutes to three when he heard it.

At first he assumed it was just the house creaking again and he went back to his clock-watching. But when he heard the sound for a second time he realized it had a different quality. He also realized it was getting closer to his bedroom.

Zak sat up and threw the duvet off. His breath was suddenly heavy and his pulse was racing. When he saw his door open, he shivered and couldn’t tell whether it was fear or excitement. A bit of both, probably . . .

A figure entered and quietly closed the door behind him. The only light in the room came from the glow of the alarm clock, so Zak couldn’t make the intruder out very well – all he could tell was that he was tall, wore dark clothing and had a balaclava over his head.

‘Turn off the clock.’ The man’s voice was so quiet, it was little more than a breath.

‘Why?’ Zak asked.

‘You need your night vision. The clock compromises it. Turn it off and don’t ask any more questions.’

Zak flicked a switch on the alarm clock. Darkness filled the room.

He heard the man’s voice again. ‘Take your pyjamas.’

Zak wanted to ask why, but didn’t dare. He removed the pyjamas from under his pillow and then, almost as an afterthought, groped in the darkness for the picture of his mum and dad. ‘Leave it,’ the man breathed.

‘No way,’ Zak said. ‘I’m—’

He didn’t finish the sentence. The man stepped forward, grabbed his hand and forced him to return the picture to the bedside table. ‘Let’s go,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t make a sound.’

Zak’s eyes were growing used to the darkness now, but as they trod lightly out of the bedroom, he saw that the bathroom door was open and a street lamp from outside gave them some light to work with. They crept downstairs. And at the bottom of the stairs, Zak stopped.

Even in the darkness he could see that the place was in chaos. The hallway was home to a chest of drawers that contained hats, scarves and other outdoor gear. Only now it didn’t, because its contents were scattered over the floor, as if someone had been rummaging through them, looking for something.

‘Come on,’ breathed the man, and he headed down the hallway to the front door. As Zak followed him, he
glanced into the front room. The coffee table was upside down; the TV was missing; the whole place had been ransacked.

The door was open and the man was gesturing at him. Zak, still clutching his pyjamas, followed him out into the early morning air. The intruder closed the door so quietly that Zak didn’t even hear it click. Only now did he remove his balaclava. He was probably in his late twenties and had a square face with thick blond hair. His nose was flattened and his forehead was set in a permanent frown. He nodded at Zak without smiling, then swiftly turned and walked down the street.

Zak followed. They didn’t have far to go. The man stopped by a vehicle parked about twenty metres away – a white van with misted rear windows and a sign on the side with a phone number and the words ‘Emergency Plumbing Service – 24 hour call-out’.

‘I thought people like you were supposed to drive Aston Martins,’ Zak said. He tried to sound confident, but his voice trembled slightly.

‘People like me,’ replied the man, ‘drive whatever makes them anonymous. Aston Martins don’t do that.’ He opened the rear doors and Zak saw the family TV lying on its back, along with the DVD player and various other items he couldn’t quite make out.

‘You did all that just now?’

‘Get inside.’

‘I didn’t hear you break in.’

‘I’m quiet. Get inside.’

Zak had a moment of doubt. He looked over his shoulder back at the house he had just left. The street lamp outside it flickered slightly; 63 Acacia Drive was bathed in its yellow glow. Zak had no fondness for that house, but now it was time to leave, a part of him wanted to run back inside to the familiar flowery wallpaper. Back to his ordinary life. To get into this van was to take a step into the unknown . . .

‘Why have I brought my pyjamas?’ he asked suddenly. Nervously.

The man didn’t explain. He just put one hand on Zak’s back and gently but firmly pushed him into the back of the van. The doors shut behind him and once more he was plunged into darkness. Moments later, the engine started and the vehicle pulled away. Zak had to stop himself shivering . . .

He didn’t know how long they drove for. It was difficult to judge time in the darkness. He sat in the corner of the vehicle, clutching his knees, trying to make sense of what had just happened. When Ellie and her family woke up, the first thing they would see was that they’d been robbed. He could just imagine the reaction – Aunt Vivian screeching, Uncle Godfrey
bellowing. He felt sorry for Ellie having to be part of it. Sorry and guilty. He didn’t know how long it would be before they realized that he was gone, and he didn’t know what they would think either. That he had stolen everything?

He narrowed his eyes in the darkness. No. They might think that at first, but when they discovered that his pyjamas weren’t there, they’d change their mind. Because if he intended to rob the house and run away, he’d hardly do it in his nightclothes . . .

The van, which had been twisting and turning, suddenly increased its speed and Zak imagined they were on a motorway. They drove for perhaps half an hour before he felt the vehicle veering from the main road and slowing down again. More twisting and turning before they came to a halt. The noise of the engine died away, but outside the van there was another sound, loud and mechanical. It grew louder as the doors opened, and when Zak peered outside, he saw what it was.

A helicopter. He felt slightly sick.

‘Get out,’ the blond man said. ‘Quickly.’

Zak did as he was told, and immediately his unruly hair started blowing around in the downdraught of the chopper. It was still dark, and they were in the middle of a big field with no sign of any houses nearby. In addition to his abductor, there was a second
man – much shorter and wearing a black beanie hat.

‘Where are we?’ Zak yelled above the aircraft’s engines.

‘Just get on the chopper,’ the man yelled. ‘Now.’

‘Are you coming with me?’ he asked.

The man nodded and pointed to the helicopter. Its side door was open but there was no sign of anyone inside other than the pilot. Zak staggered towards it, keeping his head low and covering his ears with his hands. The man followed him and, once they were both safely inside, he closed the door. The short man stepped round to the front of the aircraft and gave the pilot a thumbs up, before running back to the plumber’s van.

Inside the chopper, Zak sat in one of the empty seats in the main cabin. The pilot looked back at him and made a gesture telling him to strap himself in, which Zak did. The moment his seat belt clunked together, the helicopter rose into the air.

‘Where are we going?’ Zak screamed over the noise. He’d never been in a chopper before, and he felt vulnerable as the ground disappeared underneath them.

But neither the pilot nor his frowning, blond-haired companion answered. They just looked straight ahead, bathed in the light from the chopper’s dashboard. If Zak had been feeling uneasy before, he felt doubly so
now. But it was too late to do anything about it. With a turn of his steering lever, the pilot caused the aircraft to veer to the right. Then they straightened up and continued to fly through the night air.

Zak felt disorientated. Through the window of the chopper he could see lights of the towns over which they flew, but there was no way of knowing which towns they were or in what direction they were flying. It was only when dawn arrived after a couple of hours’ flight time that Zak was able to work it out. The first glimpses of light came from the right-hand side of the chopper. He knew the sun rose in the east, so they must be heading north.