Split Second (16 page)

Across the clearing, Nat was working hard too. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he countered the thrusts and punches of his own opponent. The masked soldier was now partnering someone else, so
Nat was fighting a tall, thickset boy with a crew cut and biceps that bulged under his T-shirt. We had all removed our long-sleeved tops by this point – and no-one had any food or water
left.

After an hour or so of combat training, our male soldier led us through the woods again. I had no idea how well I’d done as a fighter. The soldier hadn’t singled me out for
criticism, but then he hadn’t praised me either. The only person he’d actually complimented was Parveen, for a stylish move she’d made earlier: ducking sideways to avoid a full
body thrust from me.

Taylor was waiting for us at what appeared to be some kind of shooting range. A log lay on its side in front of a row of trees, a series of targets rising up like signposts opposite. Was he
really going to teach us to shoot? Fighting was one thing, but guns were another. Mum and Karen had always been totally anti guns, but if we were going to get back at the League of Iron we needed
access to the same weapons they might use.

‘Okay, now I’m not supposed to tell you this but from the preliminary trials, you guys are the elite of the young people we’ve recruited so far,’ Taylor said, his green
eyes hard and serious. ‘There are five of you here and I’ll be hand-picking four to be in my own active cell. That means you
will
be sent into dangerous situations and you
will
have to defend yourselves.’

I glanced around the group. Parveen’s eyes were shining. All the boys, including Nat, looked thrilled that Taylor had told them they were an elite group. I turned back to Taylor, suddenly
full of mistrust again. He couldn’t really know how good any of us were at this point. He was surely just trying to make us feel special so we’d do what he said.

‘We use the Glock 26 semi-automatic,’ Taylor said, holding up a gun.

That looked like it packed serious firepower. It struck me that if I came face to face with whoever killed Mum I would shoot them without hesitation. At least I thought I would. The hairs on the
back of my neck prickled.

Taylor put down his gun. ‘Has anyone here handled a semiautomatic before?’ he demanded.

No-one spoke.

‘Any sort of gun?’

Only the huge biceps guy put up his hand. ‘I’ve been to a firing range a few times.’

‘Right, George, over here.’

The big guy, George, swaggered over to Taylor who picked up the Glock and placed it in his hand. Taylor spent a moment adjusting first George’s stance, then his grip. He handed round sets
of ear protectors, waited until everyone had placed them over their ears, then told George to shoot. George hit the middle of the target, first time.

A soft, impressed murmur ran around the group.

Taylor nodded. ‘Good, but firing the gun isn’t as important as understanding how to use it.’ He turned to me. ‘You. Over here.’

My heart raced as I walked up to him. Taylor handed me another pistol from the pile. It was cold in my hands and heavier than I was expecting. ‘Hold it like this.’ He placed my hand
over the top of the gun, my fingers reaching round the barrel to rest lightly on the trigger. ‘I’ll teach you to load and shoot in a minute. But most of the time convincing the enemy
you’re
prepared
to shoot is more important. We don’t want to hurt people unnecessarily. But if you’re going into a dangerous situation you might need to make people
believe you
would
shoot. It could save lives, including your own.’

I stared at him. Did he want me to pretend to threaten him?

Taylor pointed to the log at his feet. ‘Tell me you’ll shoot me if I don’t step behind that. Go.’

I looked into his green eyes. He was totally confident, intimidating as hell. I gritted my teeth.

‘
Go
,’ Taylor repeated.

I closed my eyes for a second, drawing in a deep breath, then I planted my feet firmly against the damp earth and raised the gun.

A cool breeze whipped across my face. Charlie raised her arm, the gun in her hand pointing directly at Taylor’s forehead.

‘Behind the log,’ she demanded. ‘Move.’

I held my breath. Taylor stared impassively back at her.

Charlie stood, steady as a rock, her gaze unflinching. ‘I said move.’ Her expression was icy.

I realised my mouth was gaping open and closed it quickly. The wind was up, swirling twigs and leaves around our feet. The atmosphere in the clearing was tense.

Another beat passed, then Taylor lowered his gaze and stepped over the log. Charlie followed him with the gun. She was utterly focused, completely terrifying. A shiver ran down my spine. I was
certain that Charlie would be capable of pulling the trigger should the need arise.

And equally certain that I would not.

‘Very good.’ Taylor nodded his acknowledgement. ‘I believed you.’

‘So did I,’ said George with a grin. ‘Man, you were scary.’ He looked at me with his eyebrows raised. ‘You know this chick?’

‘Sure he knows me.’ Now Charlie was pointing the gun at George. ‘Who asked
you
about it?’

George blinked rapidly, then put his hands in the air. ‘You got me, baby.’ He spoke in a high, silly voice, his hands over his heart. Everyone apart from Taylor and me laughed.

‘This is serious,’ Taylor snapped, lowering Charlie’s arm with his hand. ‘The secret to making the enemy believe you’ll shoot is to believe it yourself, that you
will shoot if you have to. You need to make your movements definite and precise and to take all emotion out of your voice.’

‘What about anger?’ Parveen asked. ‘Surely you need to show anger?’

‘Only if it’s cold and hard,’ Taylor explained. ‘No hysterics. No passion. Nothing weak. Just like Charlie.’

We each took a turn at threatening the others, forcing them to move. After a few tries it was obvious that no-one else was as good as Charlie. George looked threatening, but couldn’t get
the right emphasis into his voice, while Parveen grew too shrill as she shouted at me to kneel on the ground. I stared back at the gun she was waving in my face. Taylor had been right. Getting all
emotional made you sound less powerful. I tried to remember this when it was my turn, but all I could think was that the whole situation was fake and that there was no way I could ever shoot anyone
anyway.

I wondered if Lucas had ever taken part in a training session like this. I would have given anything to know how he had felt about using guns and learning armed combat. I imagined that he had
been really good at it.

I badly wanted to be good at it too.

Taylor coached us on gun control and safety procedures for ages before actually explaining how to fire the pistols. I turned out to be the best shot after George. Charlie wasn’t bad, nor
was Parveen, both getting close to the target on all their attempts, but the other guy missed by miles.

At the end of the session, Taylor took us on a long run back to the farmhouse. A trestle table and two benches had been set in the middle of the kitchen and two masked soldiers served us plates
of stew for our lunch. I fell on the food. I couldn’t remember ever being hungrier – or colder – in my life. As I ate my way through two large helpings I talked to George who sat
next to me. He told me he lived in south London with his mum and three brothers. Like Lucas he had once been a big fan of Roman Riley.

‘I saw him at a rally,’ he said, his eyes lighting up. ‘He was amazing. I just wish he’d go further, you know? Riley really understands what people are going
through.’

I nodded. There was something about George that reminded me of Lucas. It wasn’t just his admiration for Riley and his athletic build – it was also that air of relaxed enthusiasm that
Lucas had exuded. Girls had loved it. I could see Parveen and Charlie looking in George’s direction several times, laughing as he joked.

Lucas had been like that, full of gentle, flirty teasing – and always with a different girl. He used to tell me that one day soon it would be the same for me, but somehow I doubted this
was true.

Towards the end of the meal George leaned over and asked quietly:

‘So is Charlie your girlfriend?’ The way he said it made it clear he was interested in her himself.

My stomach tied itself into a hot, jealous knot. ‘Nah, mate,’ I said with a nonchalant shrug. ‘Knock yourself out.’

After the meal, Taylor gave us a fifteen-minute break, during which time we were allowed to check our phones. As secrecy was so important, Taylor made it clear that anybody who suspected their
parents or guardians were close to seeing through their cover stories should come to him immediately. Much to my relief, there were no calls or texts to deal with from Mum or Dad or Jas.

Afterwards, we went outside, into the woods, for another run and a second combat session. I was paired with a boy from a different group. He was wiry but nowhere near as quick as I was and far
easier to deal with than George this morning.

By the time we arrived back at the farmhouse again it was dark. This time I wasn’t just hungry and cold, but also completely exhausted. We were given more food, then told we had half an
hour to relax.

We were shown into a living room with couches, proper lamps with shades and a fire in the fireplace. George and the wiry boy from combat training both made a beeline for Charlie but, before
anyone could speak, Taylor cleared his throat.

‘So far we’ve monitored you closely and all you know about each other are first names but that can’t last and we don’t want it to, so we’re dividing you into groups
now.’ He reeled off a series of names. ‘Will those people please go outside now?’ The others trooped off, leaving me, Charlie, George and Parveen. Taylor waited until they were
gone, then turned to the four of us.

‘The others were good and will be given roles in support cells,’ he said. ‘But you four are the best. You’ll be joining me in an elite active cell.’

‘What does that mean exactly?’ Parveen asked. She was standing behind the sofa, in front of the fireplace and the unframed mirror above it.

‘Being part of an active cell means that you will be properly trained over the coming weeks and months,’ Taylor explained. ‘In time we
will
be going after the League
of Iron. I can let you know now that, thanks to information we recently received . . .’ he looked, pointedly, at me and Charlie, ‘. . . we have some preliminary details about the League
of Iron’s next campaign.’ He paused. ‘We still need more information, but I am confident that we
will
stop them.’ He glanced at Charlie and me again.
‘Hopefully we can stop them forever.’

The atmosphere tensed. I glanced at Charlie. She was on the sofa next to George, her eyes sparkling with delight. I sank back into my armchair. Lucas had once been put into an active cell too.
Now I really was following in his footsteps.

Taylor held up his hand, the five fingers spread. ‘The four of you – plus me. That’s five members.’ He closed his hand into a fist. ‘Five members. One
cell.’

I stared at his fist, feeling myself fill with pride.

‘Okay.’ Taylor lowered his arm. ‘You have about twenty more minutes to relax and get to know each other before upstairs into the bedrooms and lights out. We have an early start
back to London in the morning.’

He walked out. Charlie and George started talking. I looked across the room to where Parveen was studying her face in the mirror on the wall. It was a huge mirror for what was really quite a
small room. I peered closer. The glass was slightly dark and completely unframed. It didn’t fit with the home-style décor in the rest of the room at all. Suspicions crowded my head.
Was it a two-way mirror? Was there someone on the other side watching us?

I looked down at my lap, not wanting to give my thoughts away, then glanced over at Charlie. I was hoping to catch her eye, but she was laughing at something George had just said. She
hadn’t noticed the mirror. None of the others had. Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was just a regular looking glass. I stood up. I had to find out.

I crossed the room and slipped outside, into the corridor. Pulse racing, I put my hand on the doorknob of the room next door.

Wait
. If I just barged in and people were there, Taylor would be angry. I needed an excuse, like maybe saying I was looking for the bathroom. As I hesitated, voices sounded from inside
the room. Then footsteps. I backed away from the door. There was an empty room across the hall, the door open. I scurried inside. This room was dark and as bare as most of the others, just
floorboards and plaster walls, with a row of cupboards along one wall.

I peered through the crack in the door. Two masked soldiers were emerging into the corridor. One pointed to the room where I was hiding. ‘See if the boy’s in there,’ he
ordered.

So they’d noticed I was missing already. Which meant it
must
be a two-way mirror. Blood thundered in my ears so loudly the soldier would surely hear. I raced over to the nearest
cupboard and slid inside, pulling the door after me.

Footsteps sounded in the room. Then a voice.

‘The boy’s not here,’ said one of the soldiers.

His footsteps faded away and I crept out of the cupboard. My legs shook as I stole over to the door and peered out into the corridor again. The door to the room with the two-way mirror was open.
Taylor was standing just outside it with one of the two masked soldiers. He looked furious.

‘You were supposed to be on duty, monitoring the recruits, not letting one of them slip outside without even noticing. And why wasn’t the room locked anyway?’ he shouted.

‘Sorry, sir. I thought it was, sir,’ the soldier replied.

‘Well lock it now,’ Taylor snarled.

The soldier did as he was told, then Taylor ordered him to check upstairs. As the soldier disappeared from view, Taylor stood back. Another man, this one wearing a dark suit, was approaching
along the corridor. I couldn’t see his face.

‘The situation’s under control, Commander,’ Taylor said. ‘We’ll find Nat and hold him until you’re gone.’