gloves. “It’ll be light in a few hours. If I hang around, I bet Mr. Jackson will have one of the masters keeping an eye on me, and they’ll find plenty of things to keep me busy until whoever’s planning to come and see me turns up.”
He zipped his fleece, then tightened the Velcro tab on his waterproof leggings. He’d be running part of the way, and the ground would be muddy despite the frost. He pulled his wool cap down over his head, but only to the top of his ears—he needed to hear clearly.
“Thanks for the extra cash,” Max said.
Sayid had raided his sock drawer and pulled out every note he’d stashed there from doing odd jobs on people’s computers. Max had his own small savings pot and the credit card his dad had set up for emergencies. But Max had wanted to avoid using that until the last minute.
“I’ll come downstairs with you,” Sayid said.
“No. Kill the lights and I’ll get going.”
Sayid knew Max was right. His friend could move more easily without having him to worry about. The two boys embraced.
“Take care, Max.”
“I will. Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch. I just have to sort this out.”
Sayid switched off the room’s light as Max settled his backpack onto his shoulders, left the room and walked quickly and silently toward the back door that would lead him to the yard.
Within minutes he had skirted the dark edge of the building, finding clear ground that would leave no footprints. He lifted Sayid’s mountain bike onto his shoulder, edged around the outbuildings and found an animal track etched through the gorse and heather. He ran, balancing the bike as best he could. Clouds were pushing in, hurried along by the northwind, its chill biting through his cargo pants. Tears from the cold filled his eyes.
For the next twenty minutes or so, it would be almost as bright as daylight, a chance to make fast time. A bomber’s moon, his gran had called a full moon on a clear night. As a child, she had endured saturation bombing in the Second World War, and whenever there was a beautiful, cloudless night, she would hastily close the curtains in her modest home. Well, he was glad of the moon. The sky’s glow helped Max see exactly where he needed to go. Within minutes he would drop out of sight from the school; then there was no chance of anyone who might still be awake seeing his shadow flit across the white-topped land.
Except that the threat did not lie in the school behind him.
Drew ran steadily on a bearing that would cut Max off. There was no need for night-vision goggles or binoculars: he saw the boy’s dark shape cut in and out of the folding ground. Somewhere behind him, and over to one side, Stanton would have the Range Rover ready to plunge through the night if for any reason Drew could not catch the boy.
Max was already more than a kilometer from school. Sweat ran down his back, his T-shirt clinging to his skin. As the track became a path, he climbed onto the mountain bike and kept his legs pumping. At this rate he would make good time.If his plan was going to succeed, he had to be in the city before the commuter rush hour started. He was so busy projecting his thoughts, following the plan in his mind, that he failed to see the rock in the path. The front wheel hit it awkwardly, the handlebars twisted and, because he was riding out of the saddle, using his body weight to power the bike along, he fell sideways into the gorse, rolling a couple of meters into the undergrowth.
Frozen snow and gorse needles scratched his face. He swore, picked up the bike and was immediately grateful for the accident. As he got to his feet, he looked back the way he had come. Across the low hill to his left, a shadow came on relentlessly. It was a big man, less than three hundred meters away. A determined energy powered the spectral figure forward, jumping and dodging any small obstacles like the inconsequential nuisances they were.
The shock of seeing the man momentarily stunned Max,
He zipped his fleece, then tightened the Velcro tab on his waterproof leggings. He’d be running part of the way, and the ground would be muddy despite the frost. He pulled his wool cap down over his head, but only to the top of his ears—he needed to hear clearly.
“Thanks for the extra cash,” Max said.
Sayid had raided his sock drawer and pulled out every note he’d stashed there from doing odd jobs on people’s computers. Max had his own small savings pot and the credit card his dad had set up for emergencies. But Max had wanted to avoid using that until the last minute.
“I’ll come downstairs with you,” Sayid said.
“No. Kill the lights and I’ll get going.”
Sayid knew Max was right. His friend could move more easily without having him to worry about. The two boys embraced.
“Take care, Max.”
“I will. Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch. I just have to sort this out.”
Sayid switched off the room’s light as Max settled his backpack onto his shoulders, left the room and walked quickly and silently toward the back door that would lead him to the yard.
Within minutes he had skirted the dark edge of the building, finding clear ground that would leave no footprints. He lifted Sayid’s mountain bike onto his shoulder, edged around the outbuildings and found an animal track etched through the gorse and heather. He ran, balancing the bike as best he could. Clouds were pushing in, hurried along by the northwind, its chill biting through his cargo pants. Tears from the cold filled his eyes.
For the next twenty minutes or so, it would be almost as bright as daylight, a chance to make fast time. A bomber’s moon, his gran had called a full moon on a clear night. As a child, she had endured saturation bombing in the Second World War, and whenever there was a beautiful, cloudless night, she would hastily close the curtains in her modest home. Well, he was glad of the moon. The sky’s glow helped Max see exactly where he needed to go. Within minutes he would drop out of sight from the school; then there was no chance of anyone who might still be awake seeing his shadow flit across the white-topped land.
Except that the threat did not lie in the school behind him.
Drew ran steadily on a bearing that would cut Max off. There was no need for night-vision goggles or binoculars: he saw the boy’s dark shape cut in and out of the folding ground. Somewhere behind him, and over to one side, Stanton would have the Range Rover ready to plunge through the night if for any reason Drew could not catch the boy.
Max was already more than a kilometer from school. Sweat ran down his back, his T-shirt clinging to his skin. As the track became a path, he climbed onto the mountain bike and kept his legs pumping. At this rate he would make good time.If his plan was going to succeed, he had to be in the city before the commuter rush hour started. He was so busy projecting his thoughts, following the plan in his mind, that he failed to see the rock in the path. The front wheel hit it awkwardly, the handlebars twisted and, because he was riding out of the saddle, using his body weight to power the bike along, he fell sideways into the gorse, rolling a couple of meters into the undergrowth.
Frozen snow and gorse needles scratched his face. He swore, picked up the bike and was immediately grateful for the accident. As he got to his feet, he looked back the way he had come. Across the low hill to his left, a shadow came on relentlessly. It was a big man, less than three hundred meters away. A determined energy powered the spectral figure forward, jumping and dodging any small obstacles like the inconsequential nuisances they were.
The shock of seeing the man momentarily stunned Max,
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