Double-Cross (2 page)

I focused on the dark shape, setting it as close to the ground as I could.

‘Okay, you can release her,’ said Ed.

I let the telekinesis seep away, watching as the dark shape on the pier unfurled into a human form. As Ketty stood up, Dylan marched over.

‘My turn,’ she said. ‘And for goodness’ sake move a bit faster this time.’

I rolled my eyes at her, but said nothing. I glanced across the deck. Neither sight nor sound of anyone else on the ferry, but it was surely only a matter of time before someone appeared.

Dylan swept her long, red hair up into a dark cap and nodded at me to show she was ready. I teleported her, moving her more quickly than I’d transported Ketty. Ed guided me as he had before. By the time I’d set Dylan down on the pier next to Ketty, I wasn’t even having to focus too much on what I was doing. It was funny to think how hard telekinesis once was for me to control. Now I can move whatever I want, within reason.

Not myself though. That’s always bugged me, to be honest. I mean, I can teleport everyone else, but I have no idea how to move myself telekinetically from one place to another.

Still, at that point the limitations of my telekinesis were really the last thing on my mind. I had to concentrate. Get Ed onto the pier, then get myself off the ferry.

As I teleported Ed across the water, I heard shouts coming from along the deck. Trying not to lose focus, I ducked behind a funnel. Any second there’d be somebody walking round here, checking there was no one left on board.

It wasn’t the deckhands themselves I was worried about . . . but if anyone realised I was here without a ticket or a passport or an accompanying adult, it would only be a matter of time before Geri tracked me down – and that would put us all in terrible danger.

I’m at the pier
, Ed thought-spoke.
Set me down
.

I teleported Ed onto the ground.
I reckon it’ll take me ten minutes to get round to the pier once I’m through the terminal
, I thought-spoke.
See you then
.

Ed broke the connection. Now I had to focus on getting off the ferry and through the security checks without anyone spotting me. I peered out from behind my funnel. The voices I’d heard before were getting closer. I headed off the deck, back into the ferry. I had to go through the interior to reach the exit to the dock.

I slipped inside the lounge. Two men were coming through a door on the far right. I flattened myself against the wall, heart pounding. Had they seen me?

No, and they weren’t coming in my direction either. Though I couldn’t see them any more, I could hear their chatter as they crossed the ferry lounge, clearly heading for the café area, which I knew was on the other side of the boat.

As their voices died away, I straightened up from the wall and crept to the next door. Through that, no problem. Then down some stairs to the foot passenger exit. A couple of guys in overalls were visible below me. They were busy ushering the last few cars off the boat and didn’t see me.

I did my best to look fairly casual as I sauntered down the side ramp. The passageway to the terminal building was cordoned off. I looked around. There had to be another way off the dock other than through the customs and immigration area.

Yes, there were a series of locked doors opposite, all marked
Staff Only.
Giving a quick glance around to check no one was looking in my direction, I unlocked the first door using my telekinesis. It opened into a storeroom. I shut it and moved to the next one.

Again the door was locked, but it was easy enough to unclick. The room inside was large, like a hanger, and unlit. In the distance I could hear the thump and scrape of boxes being loaded on shelves, but from where I was standing I could see nothing. More importantly, I couldn’t be seen myself. I felt my way round the wall until I reached a door. There were voices on the other side of it, so I moved on. A minute or so later I came to another door. I unlocked it and pushed it open. I was on a patch of deserted dock. The night air blasted me, straight off the sea. I climbed onto the railings beside the water and looked around, trying to get my bearings. Ah, there was the terminal building to my left and there were the moored ferries behind.

My spirits soared. If I followed this part of the dock along, I would come to the car exit checkpoint. I could see the row of booths from my railing. There was only one official per booth and streams of cars driving through. Surely I’d be able to slip past unnoticed.

I tiptoed along the railings until I reached a high gate. Through the bars I could see the car exit area.
Mmm
, maybe it was going to be harder to slip past than I thought. The whole area was very brightly lit.

I glanced around. There was another way out – I hadn’t noticed it before – to the right of the car exit area. It was a staff entrance consisting of a small barrier, manned by two officials, and not visible from the public areas. Beyond it was the busy road with the town of Calais beyond. As I watched, a couple of dockhands sauntered through, showing their passes to the officials as they did so. I calculated that the distance between me and the exit was no more than a hundred metres or so. Directly beside me was a store area loaded with barrels and boxes. Beyond that, the dock area was full of shadows, but I couldn’t see anyone else in the vicinity.

This exit was my best bet for getting out of here. All I had to do was find some way of distracting the officials. Summoning all my courage, I tugged my cap low over my face, shoved my hands in my pockets and strolled towards the exit.

‘Eh, hello?’ The voice was male and heavy with a French accent.

I spun around, shocked, as a huge man with a tattoo creeping up his neck stepped out of the shadows cast by the barrels. I hadn’t seen him. My mouth fell open. What on earth did I do now?

The man spoke again, a torrent of French I didn’t understand.

I glanced at the wall behind him. A fire extinguisher hung there. It would be noisy and messy and draw huge attention to myself, but I couldn’t see any other option.

‘Eh?’ The man was getting cross. ‘English? What you do here?’

‘Nothing,’ I said, my heart hammering like a machine gun.

With a subtle twist of my hand, I focused on the fire extinguisher. A second later the lock that held the cylinder in place sprang open and the extinguisher fell to the ground.

I flicked the top off.
Whoosh.
Foam sprayed everywhere. I telekinetically pointed the nozzle right at the man’s face. He gasped. Tried to sidestep it. As he slid and tripped, I broke into a run, heading for the exit.

I could hear the foam still spraying everywhere behind me. The officials at the exit were staring at me, open-mouthed.

One raised his hands, turning to the other with a bemused expression. Maybe they were too stunned to react. Maybe I could just hurdle the barrier and run past them before they had time to think.

I pushed myself on, my lungs burning with the effort. Only a few more seconds and I’d be there.

‘Arrêtez-le!’
the man behind me yelled and the two officials at the exit snapped to attention.

I was only metres away. One of the officials drew his gun and pointed it at me. I skidded to a stop. I was panting as he marched towards me. Behind me I could hear the man I’d covered in fire extinguisher foam racing up from behind.

My heart sank. I was totally trapped.

2: A Strange Sight

The man coming up behind me slipped in the fire extinguisher foam and fell to the ground. I focused on the exit ahead and on the two officials who stood between me and freedom.

The one with the gun lowered his arm and said something to his companion. He spoke too fast for me to understand the words, but I caught the word
‘jeune’
which I was certain meant ‘young’ as in . . . ‘just a young guy’.

I started running towards the exit. The other official spread out his arms to stop me. ‘
Arrêtez-vous!
’ he yelled. ‘Stop!’

I kept my eyes on the man’s gun. Out of the corner of my eye I could see officials in the booths looking over at me and car passengers straining to see what was going on.

This was not the discreet exit I’d hoped for.

Making the movement as subtle as I could, I twisted both hands.
Wham.
The two guards fell forwards, smack on the tarmac. I passed them, still running full pelt.

Through the gate and out of the terminal I raced on. I crossed the road and darted down a side street. Then another. I took a few more twisty turns, then finally stopped. I leaned against a lamp post, my lungs burning, taking in huge gulps of air.

I looked up. Listened hard. There was no sound of men chasing me. No raised voices.

I’d lost them.

Still panting, I thought over what had happened. I was sure I couldn’t be identified on the CCTV at the terminal – I’d kept my cap pulled low over my face the whole time. And it would seem odd, but not inexplicable, that the two guards I’d teleported might have tripped over and that the fire extinguisher had accidentally fallen off the wall. Hopefully, Geri wouldn’t ever hear about it, let alone put two and two together and work out I’d been here, using my telekinesis.

I let out a long, shaky breath and set off again, along the back streets, towards my meeting point with the others. As I did so, Ed appeared in my head, asking where I was. Apparently, the ten minutes I’d allowed to reach the pier were already up.

I decided against a full account of my escape from the terminal and just told him it had taken longer than I’d expected. It actually took me another fifteen minutes to reach the pier. I’d run so far inland and through such winding side streets that I’d kind of lost my bearings.

At last I found the pier, on a fairly quiet road opposite a small copse of trees. It was virtually deserted, apart from a few food stalls near the entrance.

I spotted Dylan first. She was standing under a street lamp, her dark red hair shining, staring out to sea. Two guys in baggy jeans were eyeing her up, but Dylan seemed oblivious. She’s fit. Every guy I knew fancied her, but I’d never seen her show more than a passing interest in anyone – other than Harry, of course. He was the boy we’d met recently – Jack Linden’s son – who’d helped Dylan and me get away from Geri.

As I walked towards Dylan, Ed came up to her. The two guys watched him, evidently astonished that someone so geeky-looking should be on speaking terms with anyone as hot as Dylan. And then Ed turned and saw me. He threw his hands up as I approached.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah, fine. Starving, though,’ I said. ‘Where’s Ketty?’

‘Your girlfriend’s getting us food from that stall.’ Dylan pointed across the pier.

I turned and there she was. My Ketty – the prettiest, coolest girl in the universe – smiling as she walked towards us, her eyes fixed on my face. I smiled back, getting that happy, settled feeling I always have around her.

‘I got burgers,’ she said, holding up four wrapped packages.

‘Thanks.’ I took one and watched Ketty as she handed out the others. Did I say how pretty she is? Not striking like Dylan, but softer . . . natural-looking, with curly brown hair and big, golden-brown eyes and a small nose that turns up a little at the end. But despite the delicate features, Ketty’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. Not to mention the most stubborn.

In that moment it struck me that I couldn’t bear to lose her.

‘I didn’t want freakin’ cheese on mine,’ Dylan complained beside me. ‘Or fried onions.’

‘That’s how they came,’ Ketty said with a shrug. ‘My French wasn’t good enough to understand what he was asking. He spoke too fast – I just said “
oui
” to everything.’

Dylan muttered something under her breath and wandered away, across the pier.

‘So what do we do now?’ asked Ed.

‘We need to contact our families,’ Ketty said. ‘We’ve got phones and, now we’re off the ferry, there’s a signal. I want to call home and let my parents know I’m okay. D’you think it’s safe, Nico?’

I glanced around before speaking, to check we were quite alone. To my relief, the two guys who’d been eyeing up Dylan had disappeared and the nearest people, a couple, were crossing the road several metres away. In the distance another ferry was docking at the terminal.

I looked at Ketty and Ed. ‘Geri thinks that Dylan and I are dead, so we should both be fine calling home. But right now she thinks you two have gone on the run, so there’s a good chance she’ll have your home phones tapped in case you call in on them. It doesn’t matter. I’ll call home and speak to Fergus . . . He can get a message to your families.’

Ketty and Ed nodded their agreement. They both looked pale and strained.

‘However, we don’t have much time,’ I went on. ‘The explosion at Wardingham will cover our tracks for a while, but I reckon we’ve only got a few hours until Geri realises our bodies aren’t in that building. Fergus is one of the first people she’ll go to and she won’t hesitate. She’ll be after us with a vengeance.’

Ed looked around nervously.

‘Did I hear someone say the word “vengeance”?’ Dylan walked over, crumpling her burger wrapper in her hand. ‘Because that’s the priority as far as I’m concerned. We can’t let Geri get away with trying to kill us – or murdering my parents.’