Captive (18 page)

‘Let’s get a move on,’ Feather snaps. She prods me with the gun and it’s too late to say anything to Talon, so I begin walking down the path towards the grassy area. I
count my steps in my head to keep me focused. Now is not the time to freak out. It looks to be about twenty or so paces to the edge of the field. There is a fence running around it on one side and
densely packed trees on the other three. Anyone could be hiding in them.

I’m on my eighteenth step when I hear it: a soft undulating melody that rises above the sound of our tramping feet.

Talon is whistling.
Twiddle-oo twiddle-eedee.

A robin.

Twiddle-oo twiddle-eedee.

I turn my head and he nods so slightly that it is barely a movement at all.
Goodbye, Robyn.

I nod back.
Goodbye, Talon.

Sometimes you don’t need any words at all.

I break through the trees and start walking across the field. We’re on top of a hill, and it’s windy. The sky is dark like it might rain any second. The field is
small, not much larger than the Downing Street garden. A big chunk of fence is missing where mud and grass have fallen down the hill in a landslide, leaving a steep bank of earth. This quickly
levels out into a hill that rolls down into the smudges and smears of trees below. The rest of the field is pretty much empty. Where is Marble? Where are the police? Despite Feather’s
instructions, I have no clue as to how this is going to work.

I’m more than halfway across the field when a figure emerges from the wood in front of me. He is tall with broad shoulders. A dark grey hood is pulled up over his head so that I
can’t see his face, and he is bent over as though in pain. He shuffle-walks like it hurts to move even that tiny amount. Is he sick? Has someone hurt him? Beaten him? I look around for
someone else. Surely there’s a police officer here? They wouldn’t have sent him on his own.

I am right next to him when he collapses. His legs just seem to dissolve underneath him and he hits the ground with a thump. This is the last thing I was expecting and I don’t know what to
do. Feather’s scream shakes me to my senses. She and Talon had been hanging back, but she runs out of the trees now. Marble groans and I turn back to him.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘What happened?’

As I roll him over, his hood falls back to reveal eyes that are blue-grey, not black like his sister’s. The rest of his face is covered by a mask. After everything I’ve been through,
my instinct is to run from masked men.

He catches me easily, pulling me down into the cave of his arms. ‘It’s all right, Robyn. My name is Commander Tate. My team and I are here to rescue you. You’re safe.’ As
he draws his gun, I feel anything but.

Feather, realising that this is not her brother, yells ‘Shoot! Shoot!’ She and Talon run for the trees.

Tate pushes me face down on the ground at the same time as a black van tears out of the trees and pulls up next to us. A noise like a firework explodes right by my head. Everything is lost in
the intense white sound. It is like being at the bottom of a swimming pool. I can see shapes and hear vague noises but it’s all very far away, and then there’s a louder rushing noise
and I’m spat back out again.

I have heard that sound before. The world has bleached out behind my eyes like the luminous white of newly fallen snow.

My father’s blood is a dark stain on the white-laced courtyard . . . In the distance, the sirens scream, but they are too far away. Already Dad is losing consciousness, his eyes rolling
back to milky white, his mouth drooping as the blood spills out . . .

But it is not my dad’s blood this time.

Something wet is dripping down my neck. My fingers come away red and sticky. Tate lets go of me as he clasps his arm to try and stem the blood pouring from it. Figures in black uniforms, their
faces covered, pour out of the van. One drops to his knees beside Tate and, after snapping open a first-aid box, begins efficiently bandaging his arm. Another one comes for me. ‘Robyn, hello.
How are you doing?’

‘I’ve . . . I’ve been better,’ I say.

The woman pulls her mask up over her face. She smiles. ‘We’re going to get you out of here, okay. Are you hurt?’

I shake my head and she helps me up, one hand under my arm.

The van has blocked my view of the rest of the field, but I can hear that it is chaos out there. Shouts of ‘Hands up!’ and ‘Drop your weapon!’ are interspersed by Feather
screaming for her brother, followed by more gunshots.

‘Who is shooting?’ I ask, panicked. ‘I can’t see! What’s going on?’

‘You don’t need to worry about that. Hop inside the van for me and let’s get you out of here.’

‘No. You don’t understand. Talon – the boy with the green eyes – he isn’t like the rest of them. He was kind to me. I have to know if he’s all
right.’

‘You shouldn’t concern yourself with that.’ After forcing me down into the front row of seats, she climbs in after me. ‘Simon,’ she calls to the driver;
‘we’re ready.’

‘You’re not listening—’

I’m cut off by the sound of more gunshots and then Talon crying out. This time I move too quickly for her to hold me back. I’m already out of the van and dashing around it before she
can even shout. Talon is standing at the edge of the field, right by the landslide. Feather is lying crumpled at his feet. Two officers walk free of the trees behind them with a handcuffed Scar. A
third special ops guy appears a second later. He is lowering a gun. I run across the field, my only thought to get myself between Talon and that gun. Before I can reach him, Talon crouches down.
When he stands again, he has Feather’s pistol in his hands. What the hell is he doing? The trees will be full of snipers. He should put his hands up. He should surrender.

‘Put the gun down, sir,’ one of the officers says.

I’m close enough now to see that Talon is holding the gun with both hands. They are shaking. His mask and T-shirt are splattered with blood. I say his name and he turns towards the sound
of my voice, but his eyes are misty with fear and shock. It almost breaks my heart. One more step, and I am able to clutch his hand, drawing him close to me. ‘It’s okay,’ I say.
‘It’s all right.’

‘They . . . they shot her.’

‘Yes, but they’re not going to shoot you.’

‘Miss Knollys-Green?’ The officer with the gun is very close to us now. Another officer is close behind him while the third walks Scar back across the field. I’m guessing there
must be another van waiting among the trees for any surviving kidnappers.

Surviving kidnappers.

My fingers squeeze Talon’s.

‘Miss Knollys-Green,’ the officer says again, ‘I’m Nigel Thomas. We are here to help you.’ He is a large man, well over six foot and really muscular, made even more
so by his combat gear. Unlike the woman and Tate, he has some sort of glasses over his eyes as well as a mask. He looks like a giant insect or a robot. Not human at all – and not like the
kind of man who would understand that not all kidnappers are the same. ‘It’s over, sir,’ he says to Talon. ‘One of your gang is injured. The other is in our custody. We have
you surrounded. I need you to drop the gun and let Miss Knollys-Green go.’

Can’t this man see that it’s me holding on to him? The gun jerks about in Talon’s hand because he is shaking so much.

‘He isn’t like the others,’ I say. ‘He just wanted to help his brother and his friend. You have to promise that you’ll listen to him. You won’t hurt
him.’ Talon is murmuring incoherently about being fine and that I should just go. I ignore him.

‘You have my word that he will be treated fairly. As will the others.’

But Talon is not like the others.

I don’t want to hand Talon over to these men who don’t know him like I do. It’s so unfair. The police cheated. None of this would have happened if they’d brought Marble
like they’d promised. Why would Dad do this? Why gamble with my life like this?

‘Not everyone likes the methods I use to run the country.’

‘Dad may have to make choices – difficult ones – that we may not agree with or understand. He may not always be able to explain them to us.’

Even though I may come first in Dad’s heart, I don’t always come first in his head. And it is his head that rules Great Britain. I will not send Talon into that world.

‘For better or worse, we are the choices we make.’

Other people’s choices have brought us here just as much as Talon’s. Feather’s. Marble’s. Even my dad’s.

What can I do, though? I can’t fight the police. How can I protect Talon?

Talon and I are pressed up against the edge of the field, right by the gap in the fence I noticed earlier. Below us is the steep drop of the landslide. My father’s men stand in front of us
with their guns and their masks and their lies. And behind us the land falls away into nothing. Right now, I will happily take nothingness over more death and more lies.

We are the choices we make.

I make mine.

After easing my fingers from Talon’s, reassuring him all the time that I’m not going anywhere, it’s very easy to press both palms against his chest and push. His eyes widen,
and I will him to understand that I’m trying to help him. His arms windmill, and then he is falling. The gun is knocked out of his hand as he hits the ground, thankfully bouncing harmlessly
away.

It isn’t a conscious decision that makes me fling myself after him. Instinct takes over and the next thing I know my body is hitting the compacted mud and the special ops men are shouting
for me to stop.

Falling is rather like flying, except that instead of dropping away below you, the earth hurtles up to smack you in the face again and again. As my head hits a fallen branch, I
wonder why I didn’t just run, but I hadn’t had much time to think and throwing myself down a steep hill seemed the last thing the police would expect me to do and so give me the best
advantage to get away. Also I’d pushed Talon, so he’d had no choice but rolling; it felt right that I went down the hill same way. The landslide is steep but short and after only a
couple of turns – legs over head over heels over arms over elbows – I’m at the bottom of it. All my body parts are mixed up and each one is thundering with pain and it takes a
vital half second before I can stand up. By then, a police officer is already beginning the descent.

‘What did you do?’ Talon asks, picking himself up and looking at me like I’ve done something amazing.

There’s no time to answer. Instead I grab his arm and tug him into a run. The rest of the hill is less acute until it flattens out completely and disappears into a bank of trees.
‘Come on!’ I shout, dragging him into the wood.

He is slow at first but his pace quickens and his eyes have lost their dazed look. I hope that means he didn’t bang his head. My own head is oddly empty, like my brain has been shaken out
of it.

‘You helped me escape,’ he puffs.

‘Just keep running,’ I say. ‘They are right behind us.’

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

For some reason, the sight of Addy playing on the stairs of Number 10 comes into my mind. It is replaced by the memory of Talon’s trembling hand clutching mine. Right now my sister
doesn’t need me; Talon does. ‘I’m sure.’

And just like that, I go on the run from the British police.

We slam down a makeshift path through the trees. We need to get as far away from the police as we can and then we need to find somewhere to hide so we can work out what to do next. What the hell
are we going to do? I did not think this through. No time for doubt now. ‘Faster,’ I say through gritted teeth, storming ahead and forcing Talon to move more quickly to keep up.

It starts to rain. Thin spats at first and then full-on sheets that soak our clothes instantly and make our hair slick to our heads. Water drips into my eyes and my feet slide in the mud. The
sweat dripping down my back turns icy and I have a cramp that feels like a knife is sticking right under my ribs. I know the police must be following us, but every time I glance back, I see only
rain and leaves. Grey day is turning into grey evening.

There’s the sound of snapping undergrowth nearby and I jump, swivelling round in time to see a pebble bounce off the bark of a tree. A blackbird takes off with a hoot and a flap of
wings.

‘Do you hear that?’ Talon whispers.

‘It’s just a bird.’

He shakes his head. At first there is only the sound of the rain hitting the trees, and then I hear it: something large moves through the undergrowth nearby. There is a squelch of mud followed
by a swish of wet leaves. It is getting closer. Talon tugs me down so that we are crouching in the mud behind a bush. We stare out into the gathering darkness.

Squelch swish, squelch squelch . . .

Talon puts a hand on the small of my back to push me further down into the undergrowth, just as a police officer, dressed all in black, including a face mask, comes into view. His eyes scan the
wood, and my heart thuds in my throat. There are shouts nearby, and a dog barks. The man passes close to our hiding place. Fear turns my stomach over. What am I doing? Where are we going? Do I
really think I can outrun the British police – and what for? For a moment I want this to be over, but then I remember: I’m not doing this for me; I’m doing it to protect Talon. I
force myself to keep still. Talon’s hand is steady on my back, and I focus on the way his fingers press against the angles of my spine.

Finally the police officer moves away. As he disappears through the trees, Talon and I slowly stand and then run in the opposite direction. The undergrowth is thick and we keep stumbling over
rotten stumps and twisted roots. We’re not going fast enough. There are sounds on either side of us and every now and then I swear I catch a glimpse of a black uniform between the trees.
Talon seizes my hand, steering me away from a low hanging branch that would have knocked me out otherwise. I have to keep focused. I can’t afford to let the terror take me over.

‘Okay?’ Talon asks.

I am about as far from okay as it is possible to be, but I nod. ‘We need to find somewhere to hide. They’ll catch us if we keep running like this.’