Split Second (9 page)

It was obvious to me that Lucas had picked the flowers from passing gardens and window boxes and I was pretty sure Mum realised this too. But she was still delighted every time, her eyes shining
as Lucas hugged her and told her she was the best mother in the world. On days like those, the house had been full of chatter and laughter: lots of happy noise. Now it was so quiet you could hear
yourself breathe.

I chucked my jacket on the floor and took a big spoonful of cereal. As I sat down on my bed my phone rang. I registered the sound dully, not sure I could be bothered to answer. Except . . .
wait. The sound wasn’t coming from
my
mobile. The ring-tone was completely different.

I set down my cereal bowl and fished my handset out of my jeans. It definitely wasn’t ringing, yet the trill of a phone still filled the air. I looked across the room. The sound was coming
from my jacket on the floor. I sped over and put my hand in the pocket. My fingers closed on another phone. Heart thumping, I pulled it out. It was a basic model, with ‘number withheld’
flashing up on the screen.

The phone rang a third time. Where had it come from? It definitely hadn’t been in my pocket when I left to buy milk earlier. The only person I’d passed had been that jogger.

The mobile rang again. There was nothing else to do but answer it.

‘Hello?’ I said.

‘Hello, Nat.’ It was a man’s voice: smooth and slightly amused.

I started. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘I’m a friend of Lucas’s. We were in the same organisation together.’

There was a long pause. I sucked in my breath. ‘What do you mean?’

Silence.

‘Are you . . . are you talking about the League?’ I stammered.

‘The League of Iron? No,’ the man said.

I waited, but he didn’t elaborate.

Was this some kind of trick? I had seen Lucas’s texts about the bomb. The League of Iron had claimed responsibility for the explosion. How could Lucas not be part of their group?

‘Who are you?’

‘I will explain when we meet,’ the man went on.

‘Meet?’

‘Yes. Now. Come to the bandstand in the park where you played football last weekend.’

‘How did you know I—? Who are you? Why are you—?’

‘I’ll answer your questions later,’ the man said firmly. ‘Now get your laptop and bring it to the bandstand. One p.m. Don’t be late.’

‘Wait, tell me—’

But the man had rung off.

The drizzling rain matched my mood as I hurried along the pavement towards Jas’s house. It was Sunday and I’d just had to sit through a proper, sit-down family
breakfast with Gail, Brian and Rosa. The conversation had revolved around their holiday last year, which of course I hadn’t been a part of. Gail tried to draw me in by talking about the
upcoming memorial service for Mum and the other bomb victims. She seemed to think it would be a great way for everyone to pay their respects but I could just imagine how fake it would be: full of
smiling strangers pretending to grieve for people they barely knew. I’d had enough of that in the days immediately after the explosion. I’d met a lot of people who’d said how
sorry they were that Mum had died, but where had they all been in the months before it happened, after Mum lost her teaching job and her war widow’s pension and started having to queue up for
Roman Riley’s food bags?

As I reached Jas’s house, my thoughts inevitably turned to Nat and my need for proof about his involvement with the League of Iron. Jas let me in, chattering excitedly about some material
she’d bought.

‘I was going to use it for me, but the colour will be better on you. I can do it after I finish my coat if you like?’

‘Sure,’ I said, only half listening. The house seemed empty and quiet. But then Jas’s house always did. ‘Hey, is Nat around?’

Jas shook her head. ‘He just went out.’

‘Oh?’ I tried to sound casual. ‘Where was he going?’

Jas shrugged. ‘No idea.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘He’s got so secretive recently. Anyway, come and see this material. It’s blue and, like, a jersey but with a silky
finish . . .
soo
pretty . . .’

I followed her into her room, my mind racing over this new bit of information. So Nat had become secretive. Surely that was yet another indication that he was involved with a new attack the
League of Iron was planning?

Jas showed me the blue material. It was, as she’d promised, very pretty. I feigned an interest in the dress she wanted to make and Jas skipped off downstairs, delighted, to make us
tea.

I sat in the silence of her room for a few moments. Through Jas’s open door I could see the door to Nat’s bedroom across the landing. It was shut. Which was when it struck me. The
only way to prove that Nat was AngelOfFire was to take his actual computer to the police. I grabbed my bag – just about big enough to conceal a laptop – and headed for Nat’s room.
I could hear the kettle boiling downstairs, Jas padding about in the kitchen. I opened Nat’s bedroom door slowly and peered inside.

The laptop was not on the table where it had been last week. I looked, quickly, around the room. There was no sign of it in the wardrobe, on the bed or under any of the piles of clothes that
littered the floor.

It was gone. Or hidden. And I didn’t have time to go looking for it, not with Jas about to come back upstairs.

I retreated to Jas’s room, furious with myself. I should have taken the computer as soon as I saw what Nat had written on that forum. Now I was going to have to find another way of getting
the proof I needed.

It was raining as I left the house. I made sure my laptop was properly covered with a plastic bag, then tucked it under my arm and hurried to the park. Questions swirled in my
head: Who had called me? Why did he want to meet me? What did he want with my computer? The rain grew heavier as I sped along, soaking through my jacket and leaving my clothes damp against my skin.
I paid no attention. More questions ran through my mind: How had someone slipped that phone into my pocket? What did any of this have to do with Lucas? Was it all some kind of trap?

I checked the time as I jogged through the park entrance and across the grass. It was almost one p.m. I must be mad to be going to meet a complete stranger like this. No-one else even knew where
I was.

The iron bandstand was in the middle of the park. I waited at the bottom of the stairs where weeds grew up through the rusting metal. The place was deserted. I had only ever seen it used a few
times, for summer concerts and local fairs. We used to come here years ago. I could remember eating ice cream with Jas and Lucas, Mum fussing over us with a hanky, then Lucas and me wriggling away
to play football.

I paced around the bandstand. There were trees over to the right, then the main grassy area of the park to the left. A few solitary walkers were wandering about, but no-one was heading in my
direction. It stopped raining as I checked the time again. One p.m. exactly.

‘Hello, Nat.’

I spun around. A man stood in front of me. He was tall – easily over six foot – with a narrow, fox-like face and green eyes.

My mouth fell open. How had the man got so close without me hearing him?

‘How are you?’ the man asked. From the sound of his voice, this was definitely the same person I’d just spoken to on the phone.

‘What’s this about?’

The man smiled. He wore a black beanie pulled low over his forehead and a dark, wool overcoat. I knew nothing about clothes, but I could still see that the coat was very expensive.

‘Thank you for trusting me,’ the man said. ‘May I have that?’ He held out his hand for my computer.

I tightened my grip. No way was I giving up my laptop to a complete stranger. ‘Who are you? How do you know Lucas?’

‘You can call me Taylor. I just want to check that it’s your computer in that bag and that it’s turned off. Perhaps you’d take it out for me, then we can talk.’

I shucked the plastic bag off the laptop and opened it up to show the man it was switched off. What did he think was inside here?

Taylor nodded, apparently satisfied. ‘Thank you,’ he said politely. ‘Let’s take a walk.’

He led the way towards the trees. His movements were quick and powerful, like a tiger’s. Was this all some elaborate trap to trick me into saying what I knew about Lucas? No, that
didn’t make sense. For a start, Taylor was unlike any police officer I’d ever seen. He wasn’t like
anyone
I’d ever seen. His eyes darted around, all wary, and
though he appeared calm and relaxed, he moved so fast that I almost had to run to keep up. As we reached the trees, Taylor stopped.

‘We were impressed with you at the League of Iron meeting, Nat,’ he said.

‘You were there? I thought you said—’

‘Not me personally,’ Taylor interrupted. ‘Our undercover agent.’

‘You have an undercover agent in the League of Iron?’ My mouth fell open.

Taylor nodded. ‘He kept an eye on you. Made sure you got home okay afterwards. He recorded the meeting too, so we have what you said on tape.’

I remembered the shadowy figure I’d fleetingly thought might be following me after the meeting. ‘Kept an eye on
me
? Why?’

‘Because the Commander ordered him to.’

‘Who’s the Commander? I don’t understand.’

‘The Commander is our leader. He was very impressed by your passion and your courage in speaking out at the meeting. You got right to the heart of what matters: “Be prepared to do
anything and risk everything for what you believe in. Like a family.” ’ Taylor paused. ‘The Commander said, and these were his exact words: “I couldn’t have put it
better myself.” That is high praise, I’m telling you.’

‘I still don’t understand. You’re talking about this Commander and an undercover agent, but you said on the phone that you weren’t part of the League of Iron, so . . . so
what
do
you belong to?’

‘The English Freedom Army,’ Taylor said. ‘We are soldiers, fighting to reclaim England from corruption and extremist violence.’

‘An
army
?’ Somehow the word fitted with Taylor. He certainly seemed like a soldier, all power and focus.

‘Yes, the Commander set us up less than a year ago. Lucas was one of our first recruits. We spotted his potential at an anti-cuts rally.’

‘Lucas was at a
rally
?’ I said, surprised.

‘Yes,’ Taylor said. ‘He had come along with some friends . . . I think he was more interested in one of the girls he was with than any actual protesting. But his leadership
qualities were obvious right from the start and he really blossomed under our training. I was his cell captain. I saw him go from boy to man. You must have noticed a change in him
yourself?’

I nodded. Lucas
had
changed in the last few months before the bomb. He had become more serious, more purposeful, more grown-up.

Taylor sighed. ‘What happened to him at the Canal Street market was a tragedy.’

‘So what does this Army do? What did Lucas do?’

‘The English Freedom Army’s aim is to protect the public from the ignorance and violence of the extremist groups that are inciting riots and taking their anger out on some of the
country’s most defenceless people.’

‘But isn’t that the police’s job?’

Taylor raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course it is but I’m sure it won’t have escaped your notice that the police force are struggling just like everyone else: their numbers have been
cut, they’re demoralised and stretched thin, with riots every week. And that’s before all the bombs – the Canal Street market explosion wasn’t the only one in the past year.
Simply put, the police can’t cope. Anyway,’ he paused, ‘a lot of police are sympathetic to some of the extremist groups, especially the ones on the far right.’

‘Like the League of Iron?’

‘Exactly. You must have wondered why, despite the League claiming responsibility for that bomb, not one single person has been arrested?’

‘So you’re saying that this . . . English Freedom Army . . . that you try to stop the violence?’

‘When we can,’ Taylor said. ‘We make it our business to find out what’s going on . . . who’s planning what. Then we do our best to protect the innocent, doing
whatever we have to, like a family . . . like you said.’

I stared at him. ‘And Lucas was part of this . . . this Army?’ My breath caught in my throat as I remembered Lucas’s second mobile, the one with the text about the bomb.
‘You gave Lucas a phone too, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘But I saw the text on the day of the bomb. It told him to “take the package to the market”. It—’

‘No,’ Taylor said. ‘The text just said “take package” then gave the place and time. I know because I sent it myself. It was an order to take the bomb
from
the market, not
to
it.’

Whoa
. Finally, an explanation that made sense. And it meant my brother
wasn’t
a terrorist. Far from it. Lucas was one of the good guys. He was trying to
stop
the
bombing. Relief flooded through me.

‘Lucas was one of our most promising soldiers,’ Taylor said. ‘I tasked him to go into the market and take the bomb from where one of our agents was sure it was being stored.
Unfortunately, our information was only partial. We knew the bomb would be in the market at three p.m. We didn’t know that was when it was primed to go off.’ He sighed. ‘The damn
thing exploded before Lucas got there, but while he was close enough to be caught up in the blast.’

A shadow crossed Taylor’s face. He rubbed his forehead and I caught sight of a tiny open-hand tattoo on the inside of his wrist. It was identical to the one Lucas had, that none of the
family had known about.

‘Is that something to do with the English Freedom Army?’ I pointed to the tattoo.

‘It is.’ Taylor said. ‘It’s our insignia.’

This, as much as anything, finally convinced me that he was speaking the truth about Lucas.

‘Your brother was
not
a thug or a terrorist,’ Taylor went on. ‘He was a soldier, a hero, trying to protect and defend his country.’