False Finder (2 page)

Everyone knew that Rogan paid big money for people like her. It was one of the other reasons she had kept herself so well hidden. Rogan didn’t have to put out notices for people to bring in information. If there was someone special, like Cora, the public was smart enough to know she would be worth a lot. Now that her friends knew, she could only pray to a god she didn’t believe in, that they would value their friendship more than their desire to earn easy money.

She doubted it.

Times were tough and everyone was barely scraping by.

Sod it, if I get caught then I’ll figure a way out of it at the time
, Cora thought, choosing the longer route. She needed the time to think as her anger had started to build once more. It was mostly driven by paranoia, as she forced her feet to start moving again, but no one could be too careful.

Wanting time to herself may have been the idea but that didn’t stop her pace from quickening. Not giving herself time to take in the scenery, her calming walk turned into an obsessive event, whereby she spent the entire trip looking over her shoulder in case someone was following her. To Cora, every passer-by was a suspect.

By the time she reached the room her lecture was meant to take place in, she was almost jogging. Every passer-by received a hateful stare that she had mastered when wanting to warn people off. Her eyes were narrowed into cruel slits and her mouth hardened into a sinister line. Even without knowing of her reputation, it could make a person cross the road to avoid her and Cora was proud she could get that reaction ninety percent of the time.

Pausing outside the door, Cora took a deep breath as she tried to calm herself before meeting up with her friends once more. After the unpleasant and cold welcome she had received that morning she was not looking forward to any conversations that could take place. All she hoped for was that the professor had started teaching and she would therefore not be the focus for long as she crept in.

Her luck ran out when she opened the door—not that it had really ever been on her side.

Heads swivelled in her direction and an obvious silence befell the room as she entered. It was one of the silences that meant people were discussing—more likely bitching—behind a person’s back and they didn’t want to be caught.

Not wanting to appear weak Cora strode into the room, her head held high as she headed over towards her usual seat. She was not going to let herself be deterred by a few whispers. It wasn’t in her. Exuding confidence her strides were long and determined.

“You are actually going to show your face around here today?”

“Don’t worry you won’t have to see her much longer.”

“Yeah, she won’t bring us down.”

People jeered around her as Cora walked towards her seat. The comments, however, brushed over her, not even entering her mind. Instead, all of her attention was focused on the orange slip of paper that was stuck to the part of her chair where her back would rest. It was concealed from everyone who sat behind her and placed low enough so it was blocked by the desk to people in front of her.

Cora’s steps faltered slightly, which brought a round of laughter from the class, assuming their taunts were hitting their target.

Regaining her balance, Cora forced herself to keep moving and ignore the abuse being thrown at her. Her eyes were only focused on the orange post-it note.

Without looking she knew what it meant. She had received them often in the past but the last two years, since moving to university, there had been none. Leaning down she pulled off the piece of paper, her heart speeding up as she imagined the words that would be written on it.

As people started to realise they were getting no reaction from Cora, whispers started to exchange amongst the groups. A few asked questions about what she was doing while the others went back to insulting her in private.

Peeling open the note, Cora hoped it was one of her classmates playing a cruel joke and that it wasn’t what it used to be. She willed the writing not to be the familiar blue scribble that she had grown to both love and hate. That scrawl only ever meant one thing: that they were coming for her. Rogan knew where she was because one of them had snitched. It would mean an end to her freedom and she would once again have to start over.

Damn my mother for falling for his charm, revealing everything, and then having the audacity to die and leave me with her mess
, Cora screamed inside her head.

Only when Sam shouted out did she realise she was frozen in place, her hand paused halfway to opening the note.

“Get lost, Sarah! No one wants you here now we know the truth about you. You don’t belong with us.” His voice was full of disgust but his volume was fairly level. However, in the silence of the room it felt like he was shouting at her, his words resonating around the area that was designed to have good acoustics.

Cora was happy that he still only used her false name but ignoring him, she slowly lifted the folded section of paper to reveal whatever message was hidden within it.

The note only contained seven words but they were enough to send Cora’s heart plummeting to her feet. It felt like every millilitre of blood had been recalled by her heart as her body froze, an ice cold fear running through her veins. Her eyes studied the room, wondering if anyone in there could be the one delivering them. But having never met the person, she wouldn’t know where to begin.

“Not going to fight back, Sarah? What’s got into you, don’t you want to hit me? It will be the last chance you get, so don’t waste the opportunity.” He laughed cruelly while standing up and spreading his arms out wide. “Look, I won’t even fight back.”

As tempting as it was, Cora restrained the itching desire to throw herself across the room and tackle Sam to the floor, before raining punches down on to his already ugly face. She wished she had the time to beat the crap out of him—she’d done it before—but the notes had never been wrong and she wasn’t going to start ignoring them, especially when her secret was out.

Turning to Sam, her eyes hardened and her mouth transformed into a cruel sneer. “Go jump off a cliff Sam because, trust me, you’ll wish you had when I return as I will not hold back,” she stated, her voice low and filled with controlled anger as she threatened him, making sure she could be heard by everyone. Unsurprisingly her threat drew a series of ‘oos’ from the group but Cora didn’t react, she meant every word, and deep down they all knew it too.

Before Sam had time to respond, Cora turned and broke out into a run, fleeing the room as quickly as possible. The only trace that she had been there was the orange note that had fluttered to the floor. Face up and scribbled on it in rushed handwriting were the words:

You have ten minutes, get out now.

Chapter 2

Cora ran as fast as she could in the small corridors. Full of people, she had to weave in and out of them, zigzagging around wildly as she tried to escape whatever was coming before it hit. The people were slowing her down and Cora couldn’t help but see them as precious seconds that were ticking by rapidly, each one worsening her odds.

Not having the time to spare, Cora began pushing people out of the way, throwing them against the cream walls in her haste. There was nothing that was going to stop her.

Cries of protest combined with the thuds of bodies and folders as they hit the floor followed her down the hall but Cora hardly heard them. Pressing on, she ignored every angry call that was shouted at her back. She didn’t care if they got hurt; she just needed to get away. Her mind was working on overdrive as she tried to come up with all the possible exit routes she could take.

Nine. Why the hell does there have to be so many damn doors in this place? How am I meant to know which ones are safe?
Cora thought as she took a sharp right, rounding the corner and almost hitting the wall as her Converses protested at the lack of grip on the freshly cleaned floor. Stretching out her hands to avoid a collision, Cora pressed off the wall, forcing her body in the opposite direction.
And why of all days do they choose to show up on the one rare day when my head is still foggy with pain from drinking.

She shook off the thought before it could manifest, she already knew why they had found her and it infuriated her. If she were to escape then she was going to have to focus, and that left no room for petty whining over the reasons as to why things were happening.

Taking a few more sharp corners, Cora rounded the last one to have a door finally in her sights. She could feel her face morphing into a smile at her success and her legs started pounding on the floor in a quicker rhythm, forcing an extra burst of energy through her body for a final push. Mentally, she was thanking whoever had left her the note and the elation at beating Rogan once again was spreading indescribable warmth through her. The celebration was short lived and premature, though.

Her sneakers screeched underfoot due to the sudden halt to her steps. Her feet couldn’t keep up with the pace of her thoughts as they flitted to Plan B.

A man dressed in tight-fitting, navy jeans, a black T-shirt, and leather jacket was heading towards the door that she had chosen as her escape route. His face was partially hidden by black aviators, and his dark brown hair was swept back off is face, adding a sinister quality to him as he approached the building, not bothering with anyone around him.

A few girls were eyeing him up as he passed them, clearly admiring the powerful layer of muscle that covered every inch of his body. There was no doubt he was good looking, but to Cora that muscle only meant one thing: danger.

“Crap, crap, crap,” Cora muttered under her breath as she watched him.

Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed her yet, or at least that was what Cora assumed—there was no way of telling what was going on under the dark glasses. She thought he would have been charging towards her already, had he spotted her among the dwindling crowd.

Not wanting to chance her luck and waste the precious extra seconds she had been given, Cora turned on her heels as fast as she could without tripping over and ran back the way she came. This time, there was a new urgency to her steps as she ran even more frantically.

Before, Cora had no concept of how close the men were to finding her, she was guessing and assumed she was winning. However, seeing one of them brought everything into perspective.

Of course all of the ground floor exits are going to be covered.
She cursed herself for her stupidity. Obviously the men were going to secure the doors first and she had no idea how many of them there were. For all Cora knew, there could be numerous men on every door, just waiting for her to run out into the open. Then she qualified the thought thinking they might only be securing the campus perimeter, which meant they could have also left a door unmanned.

Cora wasn’t about to chance her luck though, not on something so big. Knowing Rogan, he would have made sure to send enough men for all possibilities.

Because of that, it only left Cora with one option.

Grabbing hold of the banister, she flung herself onto the stairs, taking two steps at a time as she spiralled up. There wasn’t really a plan running through her mind as she climbed, she just knew she needed to be creative with her exit strategy. And the only thing she had going in her favour was the crazy spark of an idea that the building she was in was a temporary structure. Built in a hurry after the riots damaged the buildings on campus, it was basically made in a flat-pack furniture style. Due to that the building wasn’t incredibly tall; something that Cora hoped would be enough to save her.

Taking the final few steps, she burst past the bathroom, through the doors at the top of the stairs and onto the roof. Slowing down to a normal pace, she gave herself a second to catch her breath before starting to walk to the furthest corner of the building. Still not entirely sure of what she was going to do, Cora just stood there, trying to kick her brain into coming up with the next stage of her escape plan.

Shuffling closer to the edge so her toes were just hanging over the lip, Cora peered towards the ground below. A light breeze was blowing behind her, sweeping up her long, blonde hair and pushing it around her face, blinding her slightly as she looked down.

All of a sudden Cora felt her vision tunnelling, a wave of vertigo hitting her hard. The breeze felt like it had turned into a gale and her heart hammered as she tried to pull her hair from her eyes. Nausea welled in her stomach and the back of her throat was dry with nerves as the vertigo continued to keep a hold of her, paralysing her body until she was finally able to stumble backwards.

That looked a lot lower from the ground than up here
, she thought while taking a deep breath. As she made sure her feet were planted firmly on the rooftop, Cora stretched her neck out, peering over the edge once more to steady her nerves.

Deep breaths.

You’ve nothing to worry about. You have time to think this through. They will be searching the rooms first
, Cora thought, giving herself a mental pep talk as she looked for an escape route. Her eyes fell upon one of the many trees on campus and just as she lifted her foot to take the first step towards it, agitated voices caught her attention, making her freeze.

“Where the
hell
is she?” A man shouted and almost instantly Cora dropped to the floor, pressing herself into the roof as a precautionary measure. Bits of dried dirt, leaves and grit clung to her and forcing every thought from her mind, Cora willed herself to crawl to the edge where the voices appeared to be coming from.

“I—I—I don’t know. She came to the lesson like we said she would, but then left. Someone warned her with this.”

As Cora peered slowly over the edge, making sure as little as possible of her body was visible she saw Sam cowering in front of six of Rogan’s burly employees. One of them had him by the front of his shirt, pulling him up on to his toes as Sam shuffled nervously. It was the man with the glasses she had almost run into doing the questioning and Sam looked beyond petrified. All the colour had drained from his face and his head was twitching nervously as if he was looking for a way out of the situation he had got himself into.

“Where did she go?” the man questioned, his voice low and threatening as impatience laced his words.

“I don’t know,” Sam pleaded and Cora breathed a sigh of relief as the truth rang clear in his words.

That was all she needed to hear. Sam couldn’t inform them of her location and he was providing the perfect cover for her to escape.

Pushing herself away from the edge, Cora brought herself up into a low crouch. Hunching her body and lowering her head, quickly she moved over to the tree she had spotted. Her luck seemed to have changed as thankfully, it was on the opposite side from Sam and the men.

Just to be on the safe side, Cora poked her head over the edge once more, looking down at the area she would end up in to check for any signs of Rogan’s men. Her luck was holding as none emerged.

Swinging her legs over the side of the building so she was sitting on the edge, Cora tried to figure out how she was going to get down. There were no branches close enough that were within stepping distance so she couldn’t just climb. The only branch that looked as if it would hold her weight and was around the right height was just out of reach.

Cora stretched her hand out, the other gripping tightly to the roof as she tried to close the final few centimetres between the rough bark and her fingers.

It was useless. At full reach, her body could not lean forward any more without falling off the building. She had no other option though. For a second she considered going back down the stairs and leaving through one of the exits that Sam wasn’t at, but she didn’t want to risk it. Discarding that option entirely only left her with one solution.

You can do this. It’ll just be like doing the monkey bars back in primary school
, Cora thought before snorting sarcastically at her own comparison. Having not been to a playground since she was five—which happened to be fourteen years ago—Cora very much doubted that it would be as easy as she assumed.
How hard can it be though, right? It’s not something you forget how to do.

She tried to talk herself round to the plan, but the nagging feeling that if she got it wrong she would be falling five metres rather than five inches on monkey bars was stopping her.

“I can do this, I can do this. I just have to trust my body,” she whispered to herself, slowly building up to it.

Shuffling closer to the edge, Cora made sure that there was no more distance to cover than necessary. Her feet were planted flat against the side of the building and her hands were grasping the ledge with every bit of strength she had as she balanced precariously.

Before she had time to think about it—and doubt herself—Cora pushed herself off the building. Using her feet and hands, she launched herself forward. The weightless feeling lasted for a split second before her arms were flying out in front of her to find something to cling on to.

They made contact with the branch she had aimed for. The rough bark scraped into her skin, making her want to let go from the pain the sudden halt caused.

Gripping the branch tighter, Cora hung there, suspended in mid-air.

Now what?
she thought, finding the flaw in her plan that should have been obvious before she took the leap. Looking to find another branch to take her lower to the ground, her outstretched arms restricted her movements severely.

There were none.

Seriously Cora? You couldn’t have thought a little further ahead?
she thought sarcastically as her muscles strained under her body weight that was becoming heavier with every second that passed.

Having looked everywhere, Cora could see no option other than to drop. Groaning mentally, she tried to calculate how high she was. There was less than three metres left to fall from the tips of her toes, but that didn’t do anything to satisfy Cora’s reluctance to let go of the branch.

Counting from ten under her breath, she told herself that she would let go when she hit zero.

She stopped counting at two.

Moaning at her weakness, Cora was well aware of the minutes that were creeping by, putting herself in more danger.

That was all it took. The thought of Rogan owning her was enough for her fingers to loosen and allow her to fall. Cora’s stomach somersaulted and she forced her eyes to remain open.

The instant her feet hit the ground, Cora let her knees crumple in time with her momentum. Her body fell, rolling out to the side and coming back up on her feet so as not to break something. For a second she stood there, brushing herself off as she looked up at where she had fallen from, thankful to still be in one piece.

Congratulating herself on outsmarting Rogan’s goons, Cora started to walk off in the opposite direction. Running would draw too much attention. It would make her stand out and if there was anyone watching that would not be good. She had to blend in. So trying to look like a normal university student who was late for class, she walked briskly across the grass and tried not to look around nervously.

When her feet hit the rough and gritty tarmac of the nearly deserted roads, Cora allowed herself to take one final look behind her.

The coast was clear.

No one had noticed her and she only just refrained from punching the air with the thrill she had got from her escape. However, reminding herself she still needed to be inconspicuous, Cora dampened her smile and lowered her head before setting off again. No one smiled on the streets anymore—not that they did in London before—but it was even worse now. It was not like people had anything to smile about though.

After the government was overthrown and the military divided and disbanded in the war, it made way for six cartels to be created. Each run by a criminal dictator, they took control of a major city each. That area became their territory and no one crossed the invisible boundaries unless you wanted to die or had permission—it was why Cora couldn’t leave. The areas they controlled flourished as much as they could in the recovering economy, but everyone was better off—to a certain extent—than the middle sections who were left to fend for themselves. The first reason as to why the cartels weren’t better, though, would be the same no matter who you asked: violent methods were used to keep the peace. Because of this, there were a number of unspoken rules that everyone abided by on the streets: