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Authors: Chris Ryan
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of the cradle – but he couldn’t stop himself from looking further afield and seeing the awful vertical distance he’d fall if he missed his target . . .
Suddenly, with a great clatter, he hit the cradle. He bent his knees as his feet made contact, as though he were landing after a parachute drop, and let his body fall to the floor. The whole cradle juddered and rocked with the impact. Zak, sweating profusely, found he was still holding his breath, waiting to feel if the cradle was still safely descending.
It was.
Zak rolled over onto his back and looked up. There was a chance that the armed men in Ricky’s flat would check the window. If that happened, he needed to know, because it would mean a welcoming party when he reached the ground. But as the cradle descended, nobody appeared at the window.
It took five minutes to descend. Bizarrely, the nursery rhyme ‘Rock-a-bye Baby’ started whizzing around his head.
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
The wind
was
blowing, and the cradle
was
rocking. Zak lay very still, moving only to pull the lime-green baseball cap back onto his head. As the cradle touched the ground, Zak prepared himself for an argument. Whoever was operating the cradle would be less than pleased to see a teenager walking out of it. He pulled the peak of the baseball cap over his eyes, and stood up.
He was right to expect a commotion. Standing next to the cradle were two middle-aged men, one of them slightly balding. To the side, where the override controls for the cradle were situated, was a third man. They were all looking at Zak with expressions of outrage.
‘What’s your game, son?’ said the bald man. ‘This thing ain’t a toy, you know?’
Zak quickly looked from each man to the other. Which of them had the kindest face? He selected the guy next to the bald man. He looked like the oldest of the three. There was something about his eyes that told Zak he’d be sympathetic. Zak put on what he hoped was a scared face, and addressed this older man directly. ‘They were chasing me,’ he said. ‘These big guys – five of them. They beat my friend up and they were going to do the same to me, and steal my wallet, and . . .’
‘All right, lad, all right,’ said the man. ‘Now you just climb out of the cradle and tell us what these fellas looked like.’
Zak nimbly did as he was told. ‘Don’t make me grass them up,’ he said. ‘If they find out, they’ll come after me. I’m really sorry about the cradle, I know I shouldn’t have done it, I just couldn’t think of anything else . . .’
The three window cleaners exchanged a look.
‘Go on,’ said the balding guy. ‘Get out of here.’
Zak gave him a grateful look and immediately edged away from them. ‘And don’t do it again!’ the bald guy shouted after him.
He wanted to run. To sprint away from Ricky’s apartment block as quickly as possible. But he knew that would just attract attention to himself. So he set a steady pace, skirting round the edge of the plaza, his shoulders hunched and his head down.
Zak had practically forgotten the drama of jumping into the cradle. That was in the past, and his mind was firmly set on the future. He had less than four days to find Raf and Gabs. Four days, and almost nothing to go on. As he headed towards the nearest underground station, he repeated Cruz’s sinister words in his head.
I am taking them to a place between yesterday and tomorrow.
It didn’t make any sense.
Today
was between yesterday and tomorrow, but ‘today’ was a time, not a place.
He continued to struggle with the riddle as he bought himself a ticket and, checking around to see that nobody was watching him, headed through the barrier, down the escalator and then – almost as a reflex – back up it to check nobody was following. He hoped Ricky was dealing with the armed response unit OK. He seemed like a good guy. A bit undercooked, maybe – but he
had
just lost Felix in the middle of his
Suddenly, with a great clatter, he hit the cradle. He bent his knees as his feet made contact, as though he were landing after a parachute drop, and let his body fall to the floor. The whole cradle juddered and rocked with the impact. Zak, sweating profusely, found he was still holding his breath, waiting to feel if the cradle was still safely descending.
It was.
Zak rolled over onto his back and looked up. There was a chance that the armed men in Ricky’s flat would check the window. If that happened, he needed to know, because it would mean a welcoming party when he reached the ground. But as the cradle descended, nobody appeared at the window.
It took five minutes to descend. Bizarrely, the nursery rhyme ‘Rock-a-bye Baby’ started whizzing around his head.
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
The wind
was
blowing, and the cradle
was
rocking. Zak lay very still, moving only to pull the lime-green baseball cap back onto his head. As the cradle touched the ground, Zak prepared himself for an argument. Whoever was operating the cradle would be less than pleased to see a teenager walking out of it. He pulled the peak of the baseball cap over his eyes, and stood up.
He was right to expect a commotion. Standing next to the cradle were two middle-aged men, one of them slightly balding. To the side, where the override controls for the cradle were situated, was a third man. They were all looking at Zak with expressions of outrage.
‘What’s your game, son?’ said the bald man. ‘This thing ain’t a toy, you know?’
Zak quickly looked from each man to the other. Which of them had the kindest face? He selected the guy next to the bald man. He looked like the oldest of the three. There was something about his eyes that told Zak he’d be sympathetic. Zak put on what he hoped was a scared face, and addressed this older man directly. ‘They were chasing me,’ he said. ‘These big guys – five of them. They beat my friend up and they were going to do the same to me, and steal my wallet, and . . .’
‘All right, lad, all right,’ said the man. ‘Now you just climb out of the cradle and tell us what these fellas looked like.’
Zak nimbly did as he was told. ‘Don’t make me grass them up,’ he said. ‘If they find out, they’ll come after me. I’m really sorry about the cradle, I know I shouldn’t have done it, I just couldn’t think of anything else . . .’
The three window cleaners exchanged a look.
‘Go on,’ said the balding guy. ‘Get out of here.’
Zak gave him a grateful look and immediately edged away from them. ‘And don’t do it again!’ the bald guy shouted after him.
He wanted to run. To sprint away from Ricky’s apartment block as quickly as possible. But he knew that would just attract attention to himself. So he set a steady pace, skirting round the edge of the plaza, his shoulders hunched and his head down.
Zak had practically forgotten the drama of jumping into the cradle. That was in the past, and his mind was firmly set on the future. He had less than four days to find Raf and Gabs. Four days, and almost nothing to go on. As he headed towards the nearest underground station, he repeated Cruz’s sinister words in his head.
I am taking them to a place between yesterday and tomorrow.
It didn’t make any sense.
Today
was between yesterday and tomorrow, but ‘today’ was a time, not a place.
He continued to struggle with the riddle as he bought himself a ticket and, checking around to see that nobody was watching him, headed through the barrier, down the escalator and then – almost as a reflex – back up it to check nobody was following. He hoped Ricky was dealing with the armed response unit OK. He seemed like a good guy. A bit undercooked, maybe – but he
had
just lost Felix in the middle of his
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