Split Second (19 page)

Every night when I closed my eyes, images of Charlie’s face kept floating into my head. I didn’t want to think about her. Or our kiss.

On Wednesday, Taylor sent a text giving a time and a place for a meeting the following evening in a dirty basement in a rundown side street in Archway. Charlie and I only talked about
superficial stuff to do with school on the way. Taylor, George and Parveen were already there when we arrived. I noticed George’s eyes light up when Charlie walked into the room. A shard of
jealousy lodged itself in my chest. I tried to ignore it.

Taylor spent the next two hours drilling us on combat training. In both cases George and I worked together, separately from the two girls. The session ended at eight p.m. sharp when Charlie and
I travelled home saying as little to each other as we had on the way there. Presumably, that was how it was going to be from now on. I told myself I was relieved about this.

There was another training meeting that Saturday afternoon, then a break for Christmas, with sessions beginning again in the first week of January. The five of us soon settled into a routine of
three meet-ups a week. Taylor spent several evenings focusing on ‘exit techniques’ or, as Charlie put it, ‘ways of getting out of trouble’.

The simplest of these outlined ways in which we could call in code for help.

‘If you can’t use words, then you need a distress signal which your cell members will recognise,’ Taylor explained. He taught us the Morse Code ‘SOS’ signal –
a series of taps or light flashes: three short, three long, three short.

After learning basic Morse code we set about studying techniques for slipping and loosening knots. Only Par was any good at that. Next, Taylor showed us how to release a range of door locks with
just a credit card or the flat side of a knife. I was useless at it, but Charlie got the knack straightaway.

‘It’s all in the pressure and the angle,’ she explained.

I shook my head, hoping I would never have to open a door that way.

The sessions were, for the most part, good-humoured, though intense. And, whatever else Taylor focused on, he always made sure we spent at least thirty minutes on hand-to-hand fighting. By the
middle of February the four of us knew how to disarm an opponent in just three moves (a sidestep, a punch to the guts and a fast chop to the wrist), then kick his legs from under him. George
– and of course Taylor – were still stronger than the rest of us but if we got our balance right and put our body weight behind the moves, we were good fighters.

Taylor did his best to answer our questions too. I noticed that while George was mostly interested in fighting techniques, Parveen and, recently, Charlie wanted to understand more about the
political system we were living in.

‘It’s dog eat dog,’ Taylor would say with a sigh. ‘The police cover up for the politicians. Neither of the main parties have got what it takes to lead and the extremist
groups, like the League of Iron and the Communists, will do anything to get power.’

‘Including bombing innocent people,’ Charlie said, darkly.

‘Yes and it’s not that hard to make a bomb, that’s the scary part,’ Taylor explained. ‘You can do it with things like swimming pool cleaner or fertiliser. Get the
right mix of basic ingredients and “boom”.’

Whenever Taylor could organise it, we met at a firing range just outside London. This always meant getting home later than usual but only Jas ever noticed when I was late back, while Charlie
invented a bunch of new friends to explain her absences. We improved with every session. I could now hit a target on the other side of the room, while Charlie wasn’t far behind.

Two more weeks passed. It was the end of February and the pair of us were strolling to the Archway basement where the cell had met many times before, deep in an argument about whether Parveen or
George was the better fighter.

‘Did you not
see
Par when George got her arm behind her back that third time? She was so quick, the way she ducked away from him. He didn’t stand a chance,’ Charlie
argued.

‘He’s still stronger than she is. I reckon he
let
her get away cos he fancies her,’ I insisted.

‘You think George fancies everyone,’ Charlie said with a sniff.

I rolled my eyes. ‘He
does
.’

We were still bickering – this time over my uselessness at opening locks with my travel card – as we walked into the basement. George and Parveen were deep in conversation with
Taylor. They turned to us, all three of their faces strained and serious.

The atmosphere grew tense.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked.

‘We’ve found out what the League of Iron is planning,’ Taylor explained. ‘The information you and Charlie stole gave us the first piece of the jigsaw and since then
we’ve been receiving more data from our undercover agent. We’ve just got our most important clue so far.’

‘So what is the League planning?’ Charlie’s eyes hardened. ‘Is it another bomb?’

‘No,’ Taylor. ‘We’re pretty sure that they’re going to try and assassinate Jason Latimer.’

‘The Mayor of London?’ Parveen asked.

‘Exactly,’ Taylor said.

Charlie whistled. ‘He was at the memorial service . . .’ She turned to me. ‘Remember? He was with his wife and son.’

I nodded.

‘The Mayor has a high profile,’ Taylor went on. ‘He has spoken out against the League several times recently. Killing him would prove that the country really is in chaos. The
ramifications would be far wider than just his death.’

‘Couldn’t you . . . or the Commander . . . talk to the police or the Mayor about this? Warn them?’ I asked. I thought of Roman Riley’s calm, assured manner. Surely if he
told people what the League was planning they would have to listen?

Taylor threw me a meaningful glance. ‘As I’ve told you many times, the police are corrupt,’ he said. ‘Almost all senior members of the force are sympathetic to the League
of Iron.’

‘Yes, sir,’ I said.

‘When it comes to the Mayor himself, he receives regular threats so it’s hard to convince him there’s a genuine need to step up his security this time. Plus, he doesn’t
like to look weak,’ Taylor went on. ‘So . . . there are no plans to arrest any League members or properly investigate our claims.’

‘Which are what, exactly?’ Charlie asked.

‘That’s the problem,’ Taylor said. ‘We know the League is plotting to assassinate Latimer, but we don’t have time and place details. Which is where the five of us
come in. It’s our first mission as a cell so listen up. Everyone has a brief to learn and we have to move fast.’

(n. military. type of attack in which small groups of soldiers, or individual soldiers, penetrate the enemy’s defences where they are
weakest)

‘This
so
wasn’t what I thought I’d be doing when I joined the EFA,’ I muttered.

Beside me, Parveen stifled a snort. It was the day after Taylor had told us about our mission to prevent the Mayor of London’s assassination. Everyone had their own role to play and I was
decidedly unimpressed with mine.

The five of us had gathered for a full briefing. Taylor had just told Nat and George that their job was to infiltrate the League of Iron with a view to getting the details about the
assassination that we needed. Now
that
sounded like a proper mission. Taylor went on to explain that Parveen would also have a role in what the boys were doing. Parveen looked positively
smug as he outlined the daring plan.

‘What about me?’ I had asked.

In answer, Taylor had held up a picture of the Mayor at a formal function, his wife and son on either side of him. I recognised Aaron, with his ruddy cheeks and his thick, fair hair, from the
memorial service. As the picture was passed round, Nat gasped.

‘I saw that boy in a black-and-white photo at the League of Iron house we broke into,’ he said. ‘I forgot afterwards, but it was there, in a pile of papers on the desk.
I’m sure it was him.’

Taylor nodded. ‘That fits with the plans we found on the coded material you downloaded. His name is Aaron, he’s the Latimers’ only child. And he’s where you come in,
Charlie.’

‘What do you want me to do, sir?’ I asked.

‘The Mayor refuses to stop working just because of possible threats to his life. And, if anything, his wife is even more stubborn. So it’s proving difficult to get close to the
family, to work out the times in their upcoming schedule when the Mayor is most likely to be at risk.’

‘You’d think they’d be grateful people were trying to protect them,’ Parveen said with a sniff.

‘We know that you, Charlie, talked to Aaron Latimer at the memorial service a few months ago,’ Taylor went on, ignoring her.

The others all turned to look at me. Parveen gave me a nudge. I could feel Nat’s eyes boring into me with that intense gaze of his. What did he care if I talked to some other boy? The
memory of our kiss all those weeks ago still haunted me. But I had buried the feelings I had felt back then. Nat wasn’t interested in me. He tried to explain it away as being about us working
in Taylor’s cell together, but that was obviously just to save my feelings.

‘So what, sir?’ I said, crossing my arms and leaning back against the wall of the Archway basement. ‘I talked to Aaron for about a minute. I’m sure he spoke to a lot of
other people at that service too.’

‘Yes, but he remembered you specifically. The Commander’s contact tells us that he’s been asking questions, trying to find out who you are, where you live.’ A smile
curled around Taylor’s lips. ‘Seems like he’s taken quite a shine to you.’

‘Oooh.’ George and Parveen both made silly noises.

Nat stared at the floor.

I blushed, feeling annoyed. ‘What are you saying?’

‘The plan is to engineer a meeting between you and Aaron. Something ‘accidental’. Then we want you to get an invite to his sixteenth birthday party which is happening on
Saturday. It’s a chance to start getting to know Aaron better, to become friends, get invited to his house, get to know the family.’

‘And find out, from the inside, when the Mayor is going to be in public so you can protect him?’ I asked.

‘Exactly,’ Taylor confirmed with a nod.

‘Great,’ I said sarcastically. What a waste of time. Not that I wished anything bad on the Mayor, but spying on his son wasn’t going to help me take revenge on the League of
Iron.

‘Do you have a problem, Charlie?’ Taylor asked.

‘Yes, sir.’ The others looked at me. ‘When are we actually going to get the League back for all these bad things they’re doing? I mean, why don’t we just take out
the leaders, the people who planned the market bombing?’

A silence fell across the group. Taylor shook his head. ‘Our job is to
protect
people, not take the law into our own hands. If the police force wasn’t riddled with corrupt
officers, then maybe we could get the League leadership arrested, but as things stand . . .’

I looked at the others. None of them met my eye. I shuffled uncomfortably from side to side.

‘Right, sir,’ I said. ‘So we just let the League do their thing and—’

‘No,’ Taylor interrupted. ‘We
stop
the League. If we do our job properly we should be able to stop them permanently.’ He paused. ‘In the meantime, your
assignment is to get information from Aaron Latimer. Do you hear me, Charlie?’

‘Yes, sir,’ I said with a sigh. I glanced at Nat, wondering if he would mind me getting all chummy with Aaron, but he was still staring at the floor, evidently lost in his own
thoughts.

I didn’t like it. Not just the danger Charlie might be in if she got close to a high-profile family where the father was the subject of a League of Iron plot, but the
fact that she was obviously going to have to flirt with Aaron Latimer in order to do so. At first I wondered why Riley couldn’t warn the Mayor himself. They were both politicians, after all.
Then I remembered that Riley belonged to a different party. If I’d learned one thing about how politics worked over the past few months it was that for all the surface talk about
‘coming together in the national interest’, none of the political parties were genuinely prepared to cooperate with each other.

I went up to Charlie after the briefing. She was chatting in the corner of the room with Parveen.

‘What did Aaron say to you at the memorial service?’ I asked.

Charlie shrugged. ‘Just some stuff about hoping to meet girls. Nothing really.’

Parveen narrowed her eyes. ‘I’d keep your focus on your own mission, Nat,’ she said sharply. ‘Charlie’s got the easy bit. You’re the one infiltrating the
League of Iron. And if you’re not convincing, I’m the one who’ll suffer.’

I turned away, not wanting to show Parveen that her words had sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t feel confident about what I was being asked to do. The English Freedom Army already had
an undercover agent in the League of Iron, the same guy who had reported on my own appearance there a few months ago. This agent, whose user name was Lionheart, was going to look out for us, which
at least offered some protection. But, as the only cell member with a previous connection to the League, I knew that the whole operation centred on me. And that it was an important step, taking
Charlie and me closer to the point where we could get our revenge on the League.

Taylor talked us through the EFA oath with a greater solemnity than usual that night:
Blood and soil. Strength and honour. Hope and sacrifice
. But as I looked around at the others,
their eyes shining with excitement, their faces lit with determination, I felt uneasy. The oath was just words. It wasn’t going to help us prepare for the action we were about to take. Not
that there was time to prepare anyway.

This mission was going to take place the very next day.

Parveen had persuaded me to put on lipstick and eyeliner and I felt stupid.

‘I’m only going to be seeing Aaron outside his school. It’ll make me look out of place,’ I argued.