Blood Ties

  I held my breath. He must be talking about the man from RAGE. Simpson. The one he’d called ‘sir’. The one he’d hit with the gun, but hadn’t shot. I peered through the crack in the door. Lewis and Mel were sitting at opposite ends of the sofa. Mel had her back to me, her straightened hair shining in the lamplight. Lewis’s bright blue eyes were fixed on her face.

  ‘He’ll be furious,’ Lewis said. ‘I had to blow my cover and I didn’t take a single one of them out before I went.’

  Mel sighed. ‘Don’t tell him,’ she said. ‘Make like you had to choose between rescuing Apollo and killing Simpson. Say it was a time thing.’

  Lewis frowned.

  ‘Seriously, babe.’ Mel shifted a little in her seat. She lowered her voice. ‘He doesn’t need to know. He’ll be all over Apollo tomorrow anyway. Not interested in what went down to bring him here.’

  Apollo. She was talking about Theo. Who was the ‘he’ they were referring to? Theo’s dad? My heart raced.

  ‘So what are they like?’ Mel said. ‘The kids.’

  Lewis shrugged. ‘Confused,’ he said. ‘Scared.’ He smiled at her. ‘Not that different from how I’m feeling right now, actually.’

  Mel turned her face away. ‘Undercover work’s tough,’ she said softly.

  Lewis moved closer to her.

  ‘Being here with you, when you’re with him, is tougher.’ He reached out and touched her arm. His eyes were still fixed on her face. If he’d looked up he would have been staring straight at me.

  But he didn’t look up.

  ‘You should get some sleep.’ Mel’s voice was almost a whisper.

  ‘I’m not tired.’ Lewis leaned nearer to her. At last she looked back at him.

  I suddenly felt really embarrassed, like I shouldn’t be here, watching and listening like this. Like they would both be mad if they knew I was there. I turned round and padded silently back upstairs to bed.

  I didn’t think I would be able to rest at all, but I fell asleep as soon as I’d crawled under the covers.

  35

  Theo

  The gun was at my head, cold against my skin. I wanted to move. To run away. But I was paralysed. Unable to make my legs work.

  The click filled my head. The gun was cocked. The shot was coming. It was coming. It was . . .

  ‘AAAAH!’

  I came to with a jolt. I was sitting up in a strange bed, drenched in sweat. Where was I? Where was the gun?

  My heart pounded. I looked round the room. A second single bed against the opposite wall. Bare stone walls and floor. Flowery curtains drawn at the tiny window. Sunshine beyond.

  Sunshine. It was daytime. There was no gun.

  Everything that had happened the night before flooded back. I looked over at the other bed again. It was Lewis’s. He’d told me last night we’d be sharing. A blue duvet was smoothed across the bed. It didn’t look as if anyone had slept in it.

  The door opened. Lewis peered round. His eyes crinkled with concern.

  ‘You okay, buddy?’ He came over and sat down on the other bed. ‘Heard you yelling out. What was it? Nightmare?’

  I nodded.

  Lewis grimaced sympathetically. ‘That’ll pass.’ He turned round and punched a dent in his pillow. Then he shifted around on the bed so that the duvet got crumpled. I frowned. Why was he deliberately messing up his bed, making it look slept in?

  He pointed to the chest of drawers by the door. ‘Help yourself to my clothes. I’m going out now, but Mel’s cooked some breakfast if you’re hungry.’

  He stood up and left.

  I pulled on my jeans and found a fresh T-shirt in the chest of drawers. Lewis was only a bit bigger than I was. The T-shirt fitted fine. I dragged open the curtains. Wow. Empty moorland for as far as the eye could see. The landscape was flat and scrubby with a few trees dotted about. Mostly dull greens and browns with occasional flashes of purple. The sky was wide and blue – though dark grey clouds threatened in the distance.

  Downstairs, I wandered through the living room towards the sound of Mel’s voice and the sizzling noise of something frying. It smelled like bacon. And I was starving.

  Mel was standing by the cooker in the little kitchen, prodding at a frying pan. My mouth fell open as I clocked her sweatpants and tight white vest. She had the hottest body – all curves and sleek muscles. There was a butterfly tattoo on her right shoulder.

  ‘So, when d’you think he’ll get here?’ That was Rachel. She was sitting at the little table in the middle of the room, sipping from a mug.

  ‘Who?’ I said.

  They both spun round to look at me. Rachel immediately dipped her head, her hair falling over her face. Mel smiled.

  ‘Hey, Theo. Bacon sandwich?’

  ‘Thanks.’ I pulled out a chair from under the table and sat down opposite Rachel. ‘Who were you talking about?’

  ‘Your dad.’ Mel took a plate from the cupboard above her head. ‘He called about half an hour ago. He’ll be here this evening.’

  My dad. I was going to meet him. Everything I didn’t understand about my life was going to be made clear. My heart pounded with excitement. I stared down at the table, not wanting Mel or Rachel to see how much the idea of meeting my dad meant to me.

  ‘Where are we?’ I said.

  Mel slapped a slice of bread onto the plate. ‘About a hundred miles north of the Scottish border. The nearest village is five miles. The nearest big town is twenty. Lewis has gone there to get you both some clothes.’

  I nodded. ‘And why exactly are we here?’ I could feel Rachel looking at me now, but I kept my eyes on Mel. To be honest, it was hard to look away.

  ‘We’re hiding you from RAGE,’ she said.

  ‘But why?’ I persisted. ‘Why do they want to kill me?’

  ‘Wait for your dad, Theo.’ Mel raked three slivers of bacon out of the frying pan and laid them on top of the slice of bread. ‘He’ll explain everything.’ She pressed a second slice of bread on top of the bacon and sliced the sandwich in half. Then she plonked the plate on the table in front of me.

  I stared up at her.

  She sighed. ‘I guess this is all really weird for you guys, but RAGE are serious business. They won’t stop looking for you now. You both need to be real clear about this – your lives are going to be different from now on. We’re working on relocating your families. To keep you both safe.’ She put her hand on Rachel’s arm. ‘For you it should just be a few weeks while your parents move. You’ll be able to speak to them after Theo’s dad’s got here. You’ll be with them again, soon, somewhere new. With a new name. New school.’ She turned to me. ‘For you, Theo, I just don’t know. But I’m sure your dad has it figured out.’ She looked at me intently – just like Lewis had last night, like there was something she was trying to see in my face.

  ‘Why though?’ I knew I sounded belligerent, but I didn’t care. This woman was a complete stranger to me and yet she seemed to know more about what was happening to me than I did. ‘Why are RAGE after me? What did my dad do that makes them hate me so much?’

  Mel’s face hardened. ‘I can’t tell you.’ She paused. ‘Look. Forget about it this morning. Your dad suggested, and I thought it would be a good idea, if I gave you guys some combat training. You know, just in case. Why don’t we start in one hour?’ She hesitated. ‘I’m afraid you can’t go outside. The door’s made from reinforced steel and it’s locked three ways. And all the windows are bulletproof. They don’t open either.’

  She strolled out of the room.

  I turned to Rachel. ‘This is starting to piss me off. Why won’t anyone tell us what this is really about?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘D’you think everyone at home is really safe?’ she said.

  ‘Sure.’ I suddenly remembered Max and Jake. What would RAGE do with them? ‘That guy who rescued us yesterday. Lewis. He knows how to handle himself. I’m sure they’ve got people who are looking after things at home.’

  Home. With a jolt I real
ised that if what Mel said was true, I would never see my home again.

  An hour later we trooped into a back room that I hadn’t noticed yesterday. It was small, but so bare there was plenty of space to move around. Just some handweights in one corner, a rowing machine and a punchbag. Mel was pounding it, wearing boxing gloves.

  ‘Cool,’ I said. ‘Will we learn to shoot as well?’

  Rachel looked at me, shocked.

  ‘No.’ Mel grinned. ‘Let’s start with this.’

  She pulled off the gloves and handed them to me. Then she slid a thick black pad over each hand and held up her arms. There was a small red circle – about the size of a pingpong ball – in the centre of each pad. ‘Hit the red,’ she said. ‘Hard as you can.’

  I pulled on the gloves. They felt sticky with sweat inside. I held my hands up by my face, like I’d seen boxers do.

  ‘Good job,’ Mel said encouragingly. ‘Now this is as much about balance and co-ordination as building muscle. Stand hip-width apart, left foot in front . . . Awesome. Now. When you jab, swing from your back heel, so all your bodyweight goes into the punch. Same with the cross. Swing round from the heel.’

  She took a moment to correct my stance. Then nodded. I clenched my fists inside the gloves. I was as tall as Mel. And I knew I was strong. I wondered if I should hold back on my punches a little. I couldn’t see how those pads would protect her hands enough.

  Thump. I punched the red circle with a satisfying thwack. Mel’s arms didn’t flinch.

  ‘Good,’ she said encouragingly. ‘Again.’

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was harder than it looked to hit the red circle precisely every time. And I quickly realised my right arm was stronger than my left. But as I jabbed and crossed I could feel all my frustration welling up and pouring out. I pounded at the pads, really getting into a rhythm.

  ‘Reach forward. That’s it. Keep your guard up. Retract the punch. Sharper. Faster.’ Mel kept shouting instructions at me. Then she showed me how to swing up for an uppercut and round from the side for a hook. I punched hard at the pads for several minutes. It was deeply, deeply satifsying.

  At last Mel stood up and shook off the pads. ‘Nice work,’ she said. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

  ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ I said, suddenly worried that I’d hit the pads too hard for her. I mean, she looked strong. But she was only a girl, after all.

  Mel grinned. She shoved the pads at me. ‘Put them on.’She pulled on the gloves and took up a ready-to-punch stance.

  I held out the pads like she had and tensed my arms.

  Wham. Before I was even aware Mel’s arm had moved, she had rammed it so hard against my left pad that my whole arm was thrown back, from the shoulder down.

  I heard Rachel giggle beside me. My face reddened.

  Mel’s grin deepened. ‘Don’t worry about hurting me, babe,’ she said.

  Then she handed the gloves to Rachel. ‘Your turn,’ she smiled.

  36

  Rachel

  We must have worked out for about an hour. I was exhausted at the end of it. We did rowing and boxing and skipping. I hated it, but Mel said I needed to do some intensive cardio work. I think she meant I needed to burn off some fat.

  Theo seemed to love it all. Most of the time I felt stupid. I disliked the boxing most of all. It hurt my hands and tired my arms and I could never create the same satisfying noise that Mel and Theo made when their gloves made contact with the pads.

  It didn’t help that I had bare feet and was wearing Mel’s sweatpants. She was at least a head taller than me – with far, far longer legs – so my trousers were all rolled up at the bottom. Of course they were still tight round my huge, fat arse. Unlike hers, which hung, elegantly, from her high, perfectly rounded bum.

  Now she’d taken off that great big jumper I could see what an amazing figure she had. No wonder Lewis fancied her.

  Theo probably did too.

  We took it in turns to shower after we’d worked out, then Mel gave us cheese-and-pickle sandwiches. I helped her make them. I noticed Theo disappeared up to his room until it was time to eat. He didn’t offer to wash up afterwards either. I half expected Mel to order him to help or something. But she didn’t. She kept looking at him through the doorway, at where he was sitting on the living-room sofa. It was the sort of look you give people when you think you know them from somewhere, but you can’t place them.

  We both asked her about Max and Jake, but she was as evasive about what had happened to them as she had been about everything else. ‘They’re fine. Just wait,’ was all she would say. She wouldn’t answer any of our other questions either.

  Lewis arrived back after lunch, laden with shopping bags.

  ‘I hope it all fits,’ he said anxiously. ‘Mel and I went over the sizes this morning before you woke up. But even so . . .’

  I peered into one of the plastic bags. I could see trainers and jeans and some pale-green combats. I pulled out a long-sleeved blue-green jumper with a scalloped neck. I held it out. It was such a pretty colour. I loved it.

  ‘This looks great,’ I said, smiling at Lewis. He blushed and glanced over at Mel.

  ‘Nice work, gent,’ she grinned.

  Lewis held up two final plastic bags. ‘Got you some magazines too.’ He handed one bag to Theo. ‘I know what kind of magazines fifteen-year-old guys like,’ he said, his eyes twinkling.

  Theo took the bag, blushing slightly.

  Lewis handed the other bag to me. ‘For you I had to guess a bit.’ He smiled. ‘Hope there’s something there you can read.’

  I said thank you and took everything up to my room. I tried it all on. The trousers fitted okay – though neither pair was particularly flattering. The blue-green jumper was lovely though. It was a bit clingier than I’d normally wear, but the colour was gorgeous.

  I spent the afternoon flicking through the magazines. Lewis had bought five. A Vogue – which was full of stick-thin models and boring fashion articles, two gossip mags which looked quite good, a Manga-style comic which wasn’t at all my kind of thing, and a teen magazine called Sensa. I read it from cover to cover in about two hours. It was full of articles on healthy dieting and finding the right clothes for your shape and how to survive a first date. I was just starting on the problem page at the end when Mel poked her head round the door.

  ‘He’s here.’

  I didn’t have to ask who she meant.

  Theo’s dad.

  I scrambled off the bed and raced to the window. It was getting dark outside. A large, four-wheel drive car bumped up the uneven track and stopped outside the cottage. Two men got out either side of the back. They each made three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turns, scanning the horizon. They looked like bodyguards. I was sure neither of them was Theo’s dad. Then the driver emerged. Smaller than the other men. He held open the second back passenger door. Someone else must still be in the car. Him.

  ‘Come on, babe.’ Mel sounded apprehensive. ‘Downstairs.’

  I followed her down to the living room. Theo was in there already, standing beside the sofa.

  The atmosphere in the room was taut. I could feel Mel all jumpy beside me. Lewis was nearest the front door, reaching out to pull back the bolts. Were his hands actually shaking? My own heart was beating fast. God. If it was this big a deal for the rest of us, imagine what it must be like for Theo. Meeting his dad for what was, really, the first time.

  I took a step over to him. He was staring at the door. I badly wanted to put my arm round him. But, frankly, I would have found it easier to have cartwheeled across the floor.

  I looked up as the door opened.

  37

  Theo

  This was it. This was really it. My mouth felt dry. I was going to meet my dad.

  I could feel, rather than see, Rachel right beside me. She seemed almost as tense as I was. My eyes were fixed on Lewis, pulling back the door. It was dark outside. I could only see a silhouette of a man. Tall
. Well built.

  He stepped into the light and smiled at me.

  It wasn’t my dad.

  James Lawson had been in his early twenties when I was born. That’s how he looked in my photograph. Which meant he would now be in his late thirties.

  The man in front of me had to be way older than forty – his tanned, leathery face was heavily lined. Plus James Lawson had blue eyes and a long, oval face with a dimple in his chin, whereas the man in front of me was dark-eyed and square-jawed. No dimple.

  We stared at each other.

  I could feel the tension in the room building. Everyone was looking at him, waiting for him to move or speak. You couldn’t help it. There was this aura about him – of power or confidence or something. And he took his time. He kept on looking at my face, poring over it like a map, then his serious, brown eyes flickered over my whole body.

  I shuffled, feeling self-conscious. He ran his hand through his slicked-back hair. Rachel gasped beside me. He glanced at her briefly, smiled, then looked back at me.

  ‘Theodore,’ he said. His voice was deep and strong. American, with the trace of a Spanish accent. He smiled – a warm, charming smile. ‘It is the great happiness of my life to see you here. Now. Today. Safe.’

  But you’re not my dad.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  The man raised his hand and made a light, flicking gesture with his little finger. ‘Leave us,’ he said.

  Lewis melted away towards the kitchen. I could hear Mel and Rachel crossing the room behind me. The kitchen door shut. We were alone.

  The man waved me towards the sofa. As I sat down, he took off his coat. He was wearing a dark suit underneath – it looked expensive – and a crisp, open-necked white shirt. He strode over to the nearest armchair and eased himself into it.

  ‘Theodore. Theodore,’ he said, still staring at me.

  ‘Theo.’ I looked down.

  Several long seconds passed in silence.

  ‘My name is Elijah Lazio,’ the man said.

  The Gene Genie. The man who owned the clinic where my dad worked. Except . . .