The Set Up (20 page)

‘No.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t you get it, Nico? I’m
not
cool. I spend all my spare time going running instead of talking about music and boys . . . I mean, I don’t like make-up and jewellery; I don’t care about clothes and my hair’s all frizzy. Look at me.’

‘I am,’ I said. ‘I do. I think you look great.’

Silence. The tension between us grew.

Then Ketty’s eyes flashed up at me. ‘What about Dylan?’

There it was again – that fierce look of jealousy I’d seen before.

‘There’s nothing going on between me and her.
Nothing.
I promise.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ she hissed. ‘Tom forwarded your text
and
that picture to everyone. Lola says he told her you’d been seeing her for
weeks.
’

I stared at her. I’d completely forgotten how I’d told Tom I’d been dating Dylan – or the text I’d sent him from the train to Edinburgh.

‘That was just a cover, babe.’ A slow grin spread across my face. If Ketty was this annoyed about me seeing Dylan, it could only be because she liked me herself – whatever was going on between her and Ed.

‘I’m
so
fed up with you lying to me.’ Ketty’s voice rose as she spoke.

‘I’m not ly—’ I started.

A loud grunt issued from Ed. Ketty immediately turned to him. He opened his eyes and stared blearily round him.

‘Must have fallen asleep,’ he said croakily.

‘Are you okay?’ Ketty put her hand on his arm and smiled.

Ed sat up. ‘Hey, I have an idea.’ He stretched, wincing as he moved his neck. He peered through the crack in the utility room door. ‘I thought so . . . there’s a knife block in the corner,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to ask, but this is really important. Nico, d’you think you could teleport one of the knives over here?’

‘Yes.’ Ketty clapped her hands together. ‘Then we can pick the lock.’

I slithered down off the washing machine. I didn’t much like Ed taking the lead like that – or Ketty being so excited about his suggestion after calling me a liar. Still, it
was
a good idea.

‘I guess I could try,’ I said.

I peered through the crack in the door. The street light from outside was casting long shadows across the kitchen, but the sky was starting to lighten outside. It must be nearly dawn.

The knife block was, as Ed had said, in the corner. It took me a moment to focus, my head full of Ketty’s accusation. The worst thing was that it was true. Even though I wasn’t lying about Dylan, I
had
lied to Ketty before.

I concentrated on the knife block, breathed in and out . . . and brought a knife zooming through the air to the floor in front of the door. There was just enough gap under the door in front of me to slide it through.

Yes
. I snatched the knife up.

‘Great idea, Ed,’ Ketty said, giving him a hug.

What about me?
I was the one who actually transported the knife over here . . .

Disgruntled, I tried to pick the lock with the tip of the knife. It didn’t work, so I started carving at the wood around the lock. It took another thirty minutes and a lot of force before I’d managed to chip away enough wood to stop the lock catching in the door frame but, eventually, I did it.

The door creaked open. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and followed the others into the kitchen. The French doors out to the courtyard were covered with one of those concertina iron grilles. Ketty rattled the bars gently. ‘Can you see a key for this anywhere?’

We looked round, but there was no sign of any keys.

‘What about the front?’ Ed asked.

‘That’ll definitely be locked,’ I said. ‘Jack has all the keys.’

Crap
. I looked round. The kitchen – the whole ground floor, in fact – was as much of a prison as that tiny room had been.

‘At least there’s more space out here,’ I said.

‘Well that’s a comfort,’ Ed muttered under his breath.

Ketty suppressed a giggle.

Great.
A new, confident, sarcastic Ed. That was all I needed.

‘Ha-ha.’ I looked at the French doors again. Those sliding metal bars over them were just so solid. There was no way we could break them down. Anyway, the noise would bring Jack running. Which was the last thing we wanted. Except . . .

I went over to the cooker and switched on the hob. The electric ring glowed red – a spooky circle in the dim light of the kitchen.

I grabbed a tea towel from the hook by the sink and held the end against the electric ring.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Ketty hissed.

‘Playing with fire, babe,’ I whispered back. ‘It’s our only way out of here.’

‘What?’ Ketty looked appalled.

‘There won’t really be a fire,’ I said. ‘I’m just going to make some smoke and set off the fire alarm so that Jack has to open the back door and let some air in.’

‘But how . . .?’

‘We hide while Jack and Dylan open the door,’ I explained. ‘While they’re busy checking out what’s causing the alarm to go off, we get out. If there’s enough smoke they won’t be able to
see
us escaping. And even if they do, they’ll be too surprised to stop us.’ I turned my attention to the tea towel. It was singed already – a dark burn mark spreading across the fabric.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Ed whispered urgently. ‘Fire spreads really fast and the smoke is more dangerous than—’

Too late. The tea towel burst into flames. Holding it at arm’s length I looked up at the ceiling. The smoke alarm was just above a cluster of bottles and jars on the counter by the utility room door. I flicked it under the alarm.

‘Stop,’ Ketty squealed. She jumped back, knocking over one of the bottles. It smashed onto the floor in front of the utility room door, just as the flames from the tea towel licked at my hand.

‘Ow.’ I dropped the tea towel.

It fell onto the smashed bottle, lighting up its contents – some sort of cooking oil. The flames flared in the oil.

A proper fire.
Shit.
And I’d just set light to the only thing to put it out with. Smoke poured upwards. A moment later, the alarm erupted into a drawn-out screech.

‘Come on!’ I grabbed Ketty’s arm. ‘Jack’ll be here any second.’ Coughing, I dragged her into the hallway, with Ed right behind. Footsteps pounded across the landing above . . . and down the stairs.

I opened the bathroom door, shoved Ketty inside and pulled Ed in after us. I pushed the door to, just as Jack leaped the last few steps into the hallway. I could see him through the crack in the door. He raced past us towards the kitchen, his eyes fixed on the fire ahead. He swore, then disappeared from view.

‘Dylan, get down here!’ he shouted.

I could hear Jack fumbling with the kitchen door. Smoke was pouring into the hallway now.

‘I
told
you a fire wouldn’t work,’ Ed hissed.

‘Sssh.’ I hissed back.

Coughing, Jack re-emerged from the kitchen, just as Dylan flew down the stairs and into the hallway. Dylan’s hair was messy round her face while Jack’s shirt was buttoned up all wrongly – like he’d dragged it on in a hurry.

‘What’s . . .?’

‘They’ve got out of that utility room – door’s wide open – and set a bloody fire in the kitchen.’ Jack was still coughing. The smoke swirling at his feet was dark and toxic-smelling.

‘Where are they now then?’ Dylan shouted.

Jack looked round. His eyes stopped on the bathroom. ‘They must be in here . . .’ He flung open the door and Ketty, Ed and I spilled out into the hallway.

‘What the hell were you doing?’ Jack snarled.

Ed doubled over, coughing.

‘Making sure we left,’ I said, coughing now too.

Jack swore. ‘Come on.’ He grabbed Ketty’s arm, then unlocked the front door.

‘Don’t even
think
about running.’ He tapped the inside of his shirt – the place where I knew he kept his gun.

We stumbled outside. My eyes were watering. Smoke was pouring out of the house. We stood on the street, coughing, gulping in the fresh air. Fire engine sirens sounded in the distance. Lights were on in the rest of the mews . . . Jack’s neighbours raced out of their houses, talking in anxious voices. The smoke alarm still screeched.

I glanced over at Jack. He was gripping Ketty’s arm tightly.

How were she and Ed and I going to escape?

‘Let’s go,’ Jack said.

We set off up the little street, all bunched together. It was light outside, almost morning. Jack’s neighbours were staring and pointing at the smoke that poured out of his house. A couple of them came over. Jack gave them smiling reassurances that we were all okay. I thought about running up to one of them and asking for help, but what good would it do? Jack was adult, charming and persuasive. Plus, he had that gun – and, whatever Dylan said about him not being prepared to go as far as killing us, I didn’t want to hang around and take the risk.

No. We had to find some way of getting away from him on our own. I looked round. There had to be something here that would help our escape. A large stone urn in the front yard of the mews house on the end of the row caught my eye. If I could crash that into Jack, he’d have to let go of Ketty. Then I could grab her and run.

Ed walked beside me, still coughing. I poked him in the ribs to get his attention. His eyes turned on me straight away. With that, now familiar, rushing sensation, he was inside my head.

What?
His thought-voice was curt.

I hesitated. I wasn’t sure how to tell him my plan without him seeing
all
my thoughts.

If you don’t want me to pry into everything you’ve been thinking, then just think the thought you want me to see.

I thought my plan in words in my head, like I was speaking, but making no sound.

Ed’s eyes burned into me.
Okay, but make sure Ketty doesn’t get hurt.
He broke the link, then looked back at me. As usual, when he wasn’t trying to read my mind, he didn’t make proper eye contact, but I could still feel the warning intensity of his gaze.

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes. We had almost reached the stone urn and I had to focus. This had to be fast. There was no time to think. With an in-breath, I brought the urn a fraction above the ground. It hovered in the air, just a centimetre above the tarmac. Jack was right beside it now. He hadn’t noticed. I breathed out, bringing the urn towards Jack. He caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye. Jumped back. Tripped. Stumbled into Ketty. She twisted and fell, heavily, on her ankle.

‘Ow!’ She screamed out in pain.

Shocked, I lost my focus. The urn thudded onto the ground.

Dylan dropped to her knees. ‘Are you okay?’

Ketty clutched her foot. ‘It hurts. My ankle.’

‘What the . . .?’ Jack’s gaze raced from the urn . . . to me. He reached to help Ketty up, still glaring at me. She struggled to her feet. Tested her ankle.

‘Ow.’ She looked up, tears in her eyes. ‘That hurts.’

I stood, staring helplessly at her.

‘Brilliant,’ Ed muttered beside me.

‘Nico, I swear,’ Jack hissed. ‘If you try anything like that again, I’ll . . .’ He let the threat hang in the air and turned to Ketty again. ‘Can you walk?’

Tears in her eyes, Ketty put her weight on her ankle again. ‘Yes, but it hurts.’

Jack swore under his breath. A chill wriggled down my spine. Before, all I’d had to worry about was distracting Jack, so that we could escape. But now how were we going to get away? Ketty could barely walk, let alone run.

‘We have to go.’ Jack checked his watch. ‘I can’t afford to miss my flight.’

Ed put his arm round Ketty. She leaned into him and limped slowly off, just as a fire engine roared into the mews street.

‘She’s not walking fast enough.’ Dylan glanced at Jack.

‘You’re right. Nico, you help too.’ Jack looked over his shoulder at the fire engine. ‘Christ, I hope they can contain the fire.’ He shot me another furious look, as one of the firefighters leaped down from the machine and started yelling at the onlookers to move back, away from the fire.

I wandered over to Ketty’s other side and reached for her arm. The three of us set off in an awkward huddle, Jack just behind.

Behind us, more firefighters were leaping down, shouting out to find out if there was anyone left in the house. I could hear Dylan telling someone that the house had been empty . . . that there was definitely no one inside.

‘Dylan!’ Jack yelled. ‘Hurry.’

As we reached the main street, Dylan caught us up. She and Jack began muttering in low voices behind us. A small crowd had gathered, surging forwards to see the fire. As we pushed our way through, I glanced over my shoulder. Smoke was still billowing out of Jack’s front door, but there was no sign of any flames. The firefighters were unfurling a long hose.

I glanced across at Ed and Ketty. I was sure Ed and I could get away now, if we ran hard enough. But I couldn’t leave Ketty. I had to make sure she escaped too.

We turned onto Long Acre. Most of the shops were still locked up, just a few newsagents with the owners outside, removing their shutters. The sky was bright and the air cold. I guessed it must be gone 6 a.m.

Ketty limped on, with Ed and I on either side.