CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sam lived twenty minutes away from Kieron’s house. Twenty minutes’ walk. What was that in running time? Ten minutes? Maybe five? Kieron already felt a stitch in his side, and he’d barely made it to the end of the road.

He dimly remembered from his biology lessons at school that you got a side stitch because more blood was being forced through your liver and it wasn’t coping very well. Lovely to know this in theory, but the reality meant that he felt as if somebody had stabbed him just below his ribs on the right-hand side of his chest. The pain seemed to radiate from one side to the other, and from front to back. It hurt so much that he was running virtually lopsided, bending over to try to stop the pain.

It was mid-evening now. The sun had gone down, and the cloudless sky glowed with a profusion of stars, like glittering diamond dust floating on black water. It really did look to Kieron like the stars were floating on something because his vision was blurring, and his head felt swimmy. Everything around him was coming in and out of focus, and moving around in strange ways. He had a horrible feeling he was about to pass out.

He slowed down, holding his side to contain the agony. Maybe if he’d worked a bit harder in PE this wouldn’t be happening. If he was the kind of guy who could climb up a rope to the gym ceiling, or come in the top three in cross-country, or swim from one side of the pool to the other on one lungful of breath, then he wouldn’t feel like this – in pain, and terrified. He’d always felt a secret contempt for the kids who were good at sports, but right now he would be happy to have even half the stamina they had.

He bent over; hands on his knees, breath rasping in his throat and whistling in his lungs. An asthma inhaler would be a great idea right now. Sam had one, but that wasn’t much help. He had to get to Sam first.

Kieron looked around, hoping he would see something, anything, that might help. Nobody was around; the streetlights formed little pools of orange light around the base of each pillar. He could see televisions flickering in front rooms. Someone was practising the drums. Somewhere else he could hear the distant sound of Indian dance music. All so normal. So Newcastle.

It was no good. If he kept going at this rate he would be dead before he got to Sam’s place. He had to ask for help.

Pulling his mobile phone from the pocket of his jeans he found Tom Drewe in the contacts list. That was the fake name Bradley’s burner was entered under. A few seconds later he heard the beeps as the phone dialled the number.

‘Yes?’ Bradley’s voice; cautious and non-committal.

‘Tom?’ Kieron said breathlessly. ‘It’s Ryan.’ That was his fake name.

‘Ryan, you sound like you’ve run a marathon. What’s wrong?’

‘It’s about Craig.’ That was Sam’s undercover name. ‘I think he’s in danger.’

‘OK.’ No panic or confusion in Bradley’s tone; he had snapped straight into professional mode. ‘Where is he?’

‘I don’t know for sure, but at this time of night he’s probably at home. He didn’t tell me he was going out, and he always tells me. He virtually boasts about it.’

‘And where are you? Don’t be specific – just give me enough information to work it out.’

‘At the end of my road. I’m trying to run, but I’m making a bad job of it.’

‘And this danger?’

‘The people you and …’ He hesitated, trying to remember Bex’s undercover name. ‘… Chloe don’t like. It’s them.’

‘I’m sending a cab for you. Stay where you are, I’ll do it online from here. I’ll get one as well. We’ll meet at Craig’s place.’

‘Thanks,’ Kieron said, and meant it.

‘Ryan …’

‘Yes?’

‘When you get there, be careful. Look to see if there’s anyone else around before you go up to the door and ring the bell.’

‘OK.’

‘And one more thing: have you got the … the thing with you?’

Bradley meant the ARCC glasses. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. We can’t let it fall into anyone else’s hands, understand?’

‘I understand.’

Bradley – or, rather, ‘Tom’ – cut the connection. While Kieron waited for the taxi, and as the pain in his side subsided, he pulled the ARCC glasses from his jacket pocket and put them on. He pressed the activation button on the side and waited as they booted up. A few seconds later he was looking at the translucent operating screens of the kit, projected onto the lenses over the dark background of the streets and the houses. They appeared to be still in the middle of one of the ‘islands’ of accessibility when the satellites were operational. Kieron quickly waved his hands in the air, accessing menus via the gesture control sensors built into the rims of the lenses. Within moments he had pulled up the menu that should be showing him what Bex was looking at, in Tokyo, but it was dark. Not switched on. Maybe she was asleep, or maybe she wasn’t using the glasses just then. Difficult to tell. In a way he was grateful: if she’d been there, he would have had to tell her about what was happening in Newcastle, and she would start worrying about that rather than the mission she was meant to be on.

He felt a stab of concern, similar to the side stitch. Bex was out there, alone, with no support from Kieron or from the ARCC kit. He hoped she was OK.

‘Are you OK, son?’

The voice from behind scared him. He turned, pulling the glasses off.

The man standing there wore an anorak and a cap. He held a lead, and on the other end of the lead was possibly the saddest dog Kieron had ever seen. It was some kind of crossbreed – a Labradoodle, maybe, with a Labrador and a poodle for parents. Or maybe a Cockapoo, with a cocker spaniel instead of a Labrador in its parentage. Its face looked sad, and it stared at Kieron with eyes that seemed to say, Please, I want to go home. My paws are cold on these paving slabs. Even its fur appeared to droop sadly.

‘Yes, yeah, I’m fine. Really.’ Kieron tried to look convincing, but he had a horrible feeling that his eyes were open far too wide. He tried to close them, but straight away he thought he probably looked like he was squinting suspiciously, so he stopped.

‘OK.’ The man looked like he was about to move on, but he paused. ‘It’s just that you were waving your arms around. I thought you were dancing, but I couldn’t hear any music, and when I got closer I couldn’t see any headphones.’ He stared curiously at Kieron’s right ear. ‘Unless you’ve got one of those wireless doodads, and it’s shoved in so far I can’t see it. That could be dangerous, you know? What would you do if it got stuck in there?’

‘No, I was actually –’ Kieron’s mind went suddenly blank. What could he say? What sounded likely? Not I was operating a top-secret piece of undercover equipment, obviously. ‘Exercising. Yes, I was trying to keep myself warm. By moving my arms around. A lot.’

The man looked sceptical. ‘If you’re feeling cold, best thing is to wrap up warm. You kids, you never wear enough clothes. Anyway, you’re all right, son?’

‘Yes, thanks. I’m fine.’

The man nodded, and walked off. The Labradoodle, or Cockapoo, or whatever, stared at Kieron in silent reproach before the lead pulled tight and it was dragged away.

A car swept up, almost silently, to the kerb near where Kieron stood. For a moment he tensed, ready to run, but it was a bright yellow Toyota hybrid. With the best will in the world, he couldn’t see any bad guys driving a bright yellow hybrid.

‘Tom?’ the driver called. He was Asian; young, with short hair and a smile on his face.

Kieron was about to say ‘No’, and then he remembered. ‘Yes, that’s me.’

‘Climb in.’

Kieron slammed the passenger door and put his seat belt on and the driver pulled away.

‘Sorry it’s so close,’ he said.

The driver shook his head. ‘No problem. Every journey starts with a step, and every fortune starts with a penny. That’s what my mum taught me. Actually, I prefer a lot of short trips to one long one. I like the variety.’

Five minutes later they were approaching Sam’s house. The car pulled over down the street from where Sam actually lived. Bradley was being cautious.

‘Thanks,’ he said, getting out. Up ahead, further along the road, beyond Sam’s house, he saw the lights of another car approaching.

‘No problem. Have a good evening.’

The car pulled off. Kieron wasn’t sure whether to head straight for Sam’s front door or wait for Bradley. Fortunately, he didn’t have to make a decision. The car whose lights he’d seen up ahead pulled over a hundred metres away, and a man got out. Bradley.

‘OK,’ he said as he got closer, looking around cautiously, ‘tell me everything.’

Quickly, Kieron brought him up to date about the phantom version of Bex that he’d seen in the ARCC glasses, and the things that it had said. By the time he finished, Bradley looked grim.

‘Avalon Richardson,’ he said, making the name sound like a curse. ‘She’ll use anything to get to us. Even you and Sam.’ He shook his head angrily, then reached out and patted Kieron’s shoulder. ‘You did exactly the right thing. Right, let’s go and see if Sam is OK.’

‘Let me try his mobile again,’ Kieron said. He pulled his phone out and selected Sam’s contact details. The phone rang, and rang, and –

‘Yeah, what?’ Sam’s voice asked. ‘I’m halfway through a movie.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah, except that I’m missing the movie. What is it?’

‘Why didn’t you answer earlier?’

‘Cos it was a good bit. What’s the problem?’

‘You might be in danger. Who else is in the house?’

‘Nobody.’ Sam sounded confused. ‘Danger from who? Where?’

‘Where are your mum and dad?’

‘They’ve gone out to see some friends. They won’t be home until after midnight. Kieron, you’re scaring me.’

‘What about your sister?’

‘On a date. Haven’t got a clue when she’ll be back. Maybe never.’

Bradley tapped Kieron on the shoulder. ‘Get him to come out to us.’

‘Sam, you need to –’

Bradley’s hand clamped hard on Kieron’s shoulder, making him wince. ‘No, stop.’ He pointed down the road, in the direction from which he had come.

Kieron stared. He saw a car, illuminated by the light of the streetlamps, moving silently down the road. Its headlights were, strangely, off. Kieron wondered how the driver could see in the dark.

‘Ops team,’ Bradley whispered. He glanced in the other direction, the way Kieron had come. Kieron turned his head to look.

Another car was drifting silently towards them. Its headlights were off as well.

Bradley’s hand was still clamped on Kieron’s shoulder. ‘Move slowly,’ he whispered, pulling Kieron backwards off the road. ‘If we’re very, very lucky they will be concentrating on the house, and they won’t see us.’

‘Sam,’ Kieron said quietly, even though the people in the cars couldn’t possibly hear him, ‘go to your back door. I’ll meet you in your back garden in a couple of minutes.’

‘OK.’ His voice stopped as Kieron cut the connection.

‘What’s your plan?’ Bradley asked, looking back and forth as the two cars coasted towards each other. He pulled Kieron into the shade of a nearby bush before the headlights of the nearest car could light them up. ‘I’m guessing you’ve got a plan. A plan would be good, because I’m out of options at the moment.’

‘I,’ Kieron said, trying to sound firm, ‘am going to sneak around to the back of Sam’s house and get him out through the garden. The reason I’m going to do that is, I know his back garden well and I can navigate my way there in the dark. You are not going to come with me, because if we get caught then the bad guys have you, but if they just catch me and Sam, then you can still get away.’ He reached up and swept the ARCC glasses from his head. ‘And you need to take these. We can’t afford the bad guys getting hold of them either.’

Bradley’s mouth twisted in a grimace, but he nodded reluctantly. ‘Your logic is impeccable. I wish I could help, but –’

‘Everybody has to play to their strengths,’ Kieron said, feeling a heavy weight in his stomach. ‘I know the ground, and I know Sam.’ He hesitated. ‘And I’m replaceable. You’re not.’

Bradley’s hand had moved off Kieron’s shoulder, but he extended it again, for shaking this time. As Kieron took his hand, and felt Bradley squeeze his fingers, Bradley said, ‘You’re an impressive kid, Kieron. I’m proud to know you. And you’re wrong: you’re not replaceable. Just so you know.’

As he let go, the nearest car to them slid past, on its way to Sam’s house. It was big and black – a Humvee, maybe. Its lights were off and its windows darkened. It moved with a quiet purr – an electric engine, rather than petrol. Maybe it was a hybrid, Kieron thought randomly, but it wasn’t yellow. He’d been right about that at least.

He turned his head to say something to Bradley, but his friend had gone; slipped away quietly into the night. Probably with regret, probably against his better wishes, but he had gone, like Kieron had asked.

Kieron felt a tidal wave of loneliness and responsibility sweep over him. He suppressed it all. He had a job to do.

Now that the first car had passed, and was slowing down as it approached the second one, Kieron ran quickly across to the other side of the road. Two houses along, in the direction of Sam’s house, he paused. He knew that to his right a narrow walkway ran between two houses, but before he went down there he wanted to see what happened when the cars stopped.

They ended up bumper to bumper outside Sam’s house. Their occupants seemed not to care about anyone else who might be driving down the road and find their way obstructed. Maybe that’s what it was like when you worked for the intelligence services; you could do what you wanted.

Doors on both sides of both cars opened at the same time. Figures in black jumpsuits and black balaclavas climbed silently out. They held objects in their hands, and while Kieron was still trying to see what they were, each one suddenly emitted a thin beam of red laser light. For a few seconds the beams pointed in all directions – some up into the air, some down at the ground and some at nearby houses; a cat’s cradle of intense crimson light. At a silent command the figures all swung around so that the objects they carried, which Kieron now realised were assault rifles, were all pointed at Sam’s house. The battered wooden front door that Kieron had gone through so many times he’d lost count, painted red so long ago that it had faded to pink in the sun, suddenly became the focus of maybe ten laser target indicators. It was like a scene from a thriller, but it was real. It was Sam’s house!

At least his family weren’t home. Kieron just hoped that Sam had got out in time as well, and was waiting in his back garden.

Kieron pivoted and ran down the narrow gap between the two houses where he stood.

The ground was rutted and overgrown. Nettles slapped at his trousers as he ran. There were no streetlights down here; the only thing helping him was the light of the stars and his own memory of so many years playing with Sam around these back lanes. He leaped over the rusted carcass of a child’s tricycle, not so much because he saw it but because he remembered it. He ran between the twin six-foot-high fences that bounded the back gardens; both twisted and rotted by years of rain and sun. At the end of the fences he nearly ran into another fence, right in front of him, but he swerved left into the lane that ran along the backs of the houses, separating the ones on Sam’s road from the ones on the next road along. Nobody knew who owned it, and nobody used it except for kids playing and burglars presumably burgling. As Kieron ran, fragmented memories came back to him. This narrow stretch of land had been so many things to the two boys over the years: the equatorial canyon on the Death Star; a rocky defile down which World War Two soldiers quietly crept; a secret way into the Evil Lord’s castle in a fantasy world, far far away … It was their childhood. It was every imaginary game they had ever played. How many times had one of them caught the other, raised his hand, made a gun shape and gone ‘Bang!’, or zapped him with an imaginary laser?

And now it was for real. Now, real people with real guns were chasing them.

Kieron stepped over a pile of bricks and dodged around an iron stake that had somehow become embedded in the earth. Maybe it had been a sword, back in the day. He counted the houses on his left as he went: number forty-six, where Mrs Merthan lived; number forty-eight, which had been separated out into flats and was occupied by four different Polish families; number fifty, which he and Sam had broken into one day when they were younger, to find bare boards, chalk circles and black candles that had burned out to leave wax puddles. And number fifty-two: Sam’s house. Sam’s parents’ house.

There was no gate or doorway from the alleyway into Sam’s back garden. Kieron went on to number fifty-four, where a music teacher from a local school lived. A door in the back fence could be opened if you slid a piece of wire up between the door and the jamb to lift the catch. That’s what Kieron did, using a straightened paper clip that he and Sam kept hidden beneath a large stone for that very purpose. He crept quietly into the music teacher’s back garden.

A cat yowled, and Kieron jumped, but it was somewhere in a different garden; nothing to do with him. He crept over to where he knew there was a gap in the fence between this house and Sam’s house, caused by some storm years ago and which neither side had bothered to fix. The panel there had come loose at the bottom, and he squeezed through the gap into Sam’s back garden.

The only light was still that from the stars, and Kieron nearly fell into the goldfish pond. He caught his balance, detoured around it and headed for the back door of the house.

‘Sam?’ he whispered.

‘Kieron! What’s going on?’ The voice came from the darkness.

‘Bad guys, out front. Got to get out.’

‘How did they find me?’ Sam hissed loudly.

Kieron decided that right then discretion was the better part of valour. ‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘They just did. I’ve got to get you out.’

‘What about my mum and dad?’

‘The bad guys aren’t after them, they’re after us. Well, you right now. Come on.’

Sam emerged from the shadows of the conservatory. His expression – what Kieron could see of it – looked worried.

‘It’ll be OK,’ Kieron said. ‘Bradley’s with me.’ It wasn’t quite the truth, but Sam needed reassurance, and there wasn’t very much else Kieron could give.

They headed towards the loose fence panel that Kieron had come through, but he suddenly heard a nearby door open and a voice say, ‘Go on then, if you have to.’ He wasn’t sure what to make of that until he heard the pattering of claws on concrete. The music teacher had let her dog out.

‘OK,’ Sam said, ‘change of plan. Follow me.’

He ran towards the back of the garden. Kieron followed him, uncertain where they were going. There wasn’t any door in the back fence, and no loose panels as far as he knew. What was Sam doing?

As the thought went through his mind, Sam suddenly jumped up, scrambling onto what Kieron now remembered was a low plastic storage unit in which Sam’s dad stored his garden tools. Kieron followed, but by then Sam had scrabbled sideways onto the roof of a larger shed, where bigger things – old gazebos, lengths of wood that might come in useful one day, big rolls of wire netting intended for some gardening project that had never happened – were stored. From there he could get to the top of the fence panels that separated the garden from the back alley. He vaulted over them as Kieron watched. Seconds later, Kieron followed.

As he pushed off he heard someone say, ‘Stop where you are or I’ll shoot!’

Too late to stop. Kieron vaulted over the fence, following his friend. In the sparse starlight and still in mid-air he saw Sam trying to pick himself up, and a black-clad figure pointing a gun directly at Sam’s head. A small red dot glowed on Sam’s temple. The figure was moving forward along the alley, which meant –

Kieron kicked them in the head as he landed.

The black-clad figure flew sideways, hitting the back fence and bouncing off before they lay there, unconscious.

‘OK, this is serious!’ Sam said as Kieron hit the ground and rolled. ‘Which way?’

Kieron straightened up, and looked both ways along the alley. ‘Don’t think it matters. Choose one.’

Sam pointed ahead, in the opposite direction to the way Kieron had come. ‘That way. We can get a bus and go to Bradley’s place.’

‘OK.’

Sam ran, and Kieron followed, scooping up the bad guy’s weapon as he did so. Numbers fifty-four, fifty-six and fifty-eight flew past. A pigeon suddenly flew up in a flurry of feathers, disturbed by their passage. Somewhere, a dog started to bark.

Up ahead, Kieron saw a black rectangle; the end of the alley. Beyond it was the road that ran perpendicular to Sam’s road and the next one along.

He turned to look behind. He wasn’t sure if anyone was chasing them or not; the alley was too dark.

Sam ran out of the alley, past the two houses that bracketed it and out onto the pavement. Kieron followed.

‘Stop right where you are,’ a voice said. Male, authoritative, used to being obeyed. ‘If you do not stop, we will shoot.’

Sam put his hands up.

Kieron ran out onto the pavement. He looked left and right. Black-clad operatives, their faces covered by balaclavas and holding high-tech weapons, faced them from both sides.

He stared down at his chest. A cluster of five red dots circled over his heart like mosquitos looking for a place to land.

He looked up, into the eyes of the nearest agent. Well, not into their eyes – they were covered by what looked like low-light goggles. Into his lenses.

‘Have you seen my cat, mister?’ he asked plaintively. ‘We’ve lost her.’

‘Nice try,’ the man said. ‘You’re coming with us.’