Every Second Counts
Read Every Second Counts Online
Authors: Sophie McKenzie
Also by Sophie McKenzie
Teen Novels
Girl, Missing
Sister, Missing
Missing Me
Blood Ties
Blood Ransom
THE MEDUSA PROJECT
The Set-Up
The Hostage
The Rescue
Hunted
Double-Cross
Hit Squad
LUKE AND EVE SERIES
Six Steps to a Girl
Three’s a Crowd
The One and Only
THE FLYNN SERIES
Falling Fast
Burning Bright
Casting Shadows
Defy the Stars
Crime Fiction
Close My Eyes
Trust in Me
First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Simon and Schuster UK Ltd
A CBS company
Copyright © Rosefire Limited 2014
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
All rights reserved.
The right of Sophie McKenzie to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents
Act, 1988.
Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
1st Floor, 222 Gray’s Inn Road
London
WC1X 8HB
Simon & Schuster Australia, Sydney
Simon & Schuster India, New Delhi
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
PB ISBN 978-1-47111-604-9
E-BOOK ISBN 978-1-47111-602-5
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Typeset by Hewer Text UK Ltd, Edinburgh
Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
www.simonandschuster.co.uk
www.sophiemckenziebooks.com
For my godchildren: Freddie, Cliona and Alex
England is in the grip of recession and extremist groups are on the rise. After a bomb last year devastated both their families, Charlie and Nat were recruited into
the secret English Freedom Army (EFA) as part of an active cell designed to take a stand against terrorism.
Since then they have learned that the EFA is a terrorist organisation itself. Secretly led by the charismatic politician, Roman Riley, the EFA’s real aim is to
commit acts of violence and blame others for causing them, thus encouraging the general public to believe the current government is not in control – and to turn to Riley’s Future
Party for a political solution to the chaos.
Riley – through cell leader, Taylor – has recently conned Nat and Charlie into taking part in kidnapping and terrorism and they are now on the run from
both the EFA and the police.
Excommunication
n.
rejection by means of act of banishing or denouncing someone
I held up my hand to show Charlie she needed to wait. She gave me a swift nod. I moved, silently, across the grass. The safe house we were heading for was a flat in an
abandoned building set apart from the rest of the road.
I crossed the wasteland, feeling exposed. It was early evening on a warm spring day and still light. Anyone looking out of the concrete apartment block would have seen me, but as far as I could
make out no one
was
looking. I reached the cover of a single tree and ducked behind it. I glanced over at where Charlie was waiting a few metres away, on the opposite side of the wasteland.
She was dressed, like I was, in jeans and a T-shirt. We’d left our large, bulky packs behind a nearby rubbish bin and probably looked like a couple of teenagers on their way to some meet-up
with their mates.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Charlie met my gaze. Even at this distance I could see the focus and intensity in her dark, slanting eyes. She had cropped her long, curly hair close to her skull, hoping to be less recognisable
on the run. It wasn’t the prettiest of styles but it made Charlie’s face more beautiful than ever.
At least I thought so.
There was nothing now between me, still hiding behind my tree, and the building over the road. I glanced up and down. Nobody was about. It was time to make our move. I pointed at the
ground-floor flat and Charlie gave another nod. She was ready. I ran, reaching the house in three long strides, and ducked down beside the wall. Charlie crouched low on the other side of the front
door. She signalled she was going to take a look inside. I nodded, then inched my way to the edge of my own window, ready to risk peering in.
This was the third safe house we’d attempted to access – both the others had been empty. It was also the last on our list. If we didn’t find people from the resistance inside,
I had no idea what we would do.
I crawled into position, steadying myself ready to stand up and look in through the window. I was about to move, when Charlie let out a muffled squeak. As I spun around, a hand grabbed my arm. I
opened my mouth to yell, but a cloth bag was shoved over my head, then pressed tight over my lips. I gasped for breath, trying to pull my arm free, lashing out at whoever was holding me.
A second later my legs were kicked from under me. I fell to the concrete, yelping with pain.
‘Charlie?’ I gasped. Fear consumed me. Over the past few weeks our focus had been on survival, not feelings. But mine were still as strong as ever.
‘I’m here.’ Charlie sounded strong. I straightened up. I couldn’t tell if she was able to see me or not but, if she was, I didn’t want her last memory of me to be
me cowering like a baby.
‘Keep still and shut up,’ a voice ordered.
The point of a knife pierced through my T-shirt, a sharp pain against my ribs.
I tried to punch and kick, but the hands holding me down were too strong. Fury boiled up inside me, I yelled but the cloth bag over my head was pressed tight against my mouth
and all that came out was a muffled squeak.
‘Calm down,’ snarled a male voice.
Where was Nat? Was he okay? How could this have happened? Nat and I were always so careful – after a month on the run we had learned how to slip in and out of the derelict houses where we
took shelter without drawing attention to ourselves. And yet we’d been captured approaching this safe house as if we were a couple of idiots with no combat or stealth training whatsoever.
Nat shouted out, a single pain-filled cry. Then silence.
Was he alright? The idea that he might be hurt – or worse – sent ice through my blood. Still pressing the cloth bag against my mouth, the man holding me propelled me inside the
house. Our footsteps pattered across the tiled floor. I couldn’t hear anyone else. Where was Nat?
Through another door. The air was cooler here. I was shoved into a chair. I tried to get up, but rough hands pushed me down.
‘Stay still or I’ll cut you,’ the man hissed.
I froze. A second later my hands were forced together in my lap and bound with tape. I kept very still, trying to conserve my energy and listening hard for signs that Nat was nearby. I could
hear nothing. I forced myself to focus. I needed to channel all my efforts into getting Nat and myself free.
‘Right.’ The cloth bag was yanked off my head and a bright light shone in my eyes.
I blinked, turning my face away from the glare. I was in a small room with twin beds and a chest of drawers.
‘Look at me,’ the man demanded. The light lowered and I looked up. A young guy – not much older than I was – stood in front of me. He had fine, fair hair and delicate
features. Despite the hard edge to his voice I could see in his eyes that he was terrified. I remembered something Taylor, my old EFA trainer, had once said:
A big part of success in any fight
lies in the ability to use your opponent’s weaknesses against them. Assess, plan, act.
He might have lied to us and used us, but Taylor had been right about that. The knowledge that my captor was scared gave me a huge advantage. I stared into his eyes, my courage building.
‘What are you doing here?’ the man snapped, but now that I was watching him, I could hear the slight quaver in his voice. Suddenly, I was certain I could disarm him. I just needed to
get rid of the tape around my wrist. Keeping my eyes fixed on his, I felt for the edge of the tape.
There.
‘Answer me.’ The man held up the knife. But his hands were shaking.
‘No.’ I ripped the tape off my wrist and lunged for his arm. With a single blow I knocked the knife out of his hand. It clattered to the floor.
I raced over and snatched it up. Then I spun around and held the knife towards him.
The man stared at me, his mouth gaping. I met his gaze.
‘Where’s the boy I was with?’ I demanded. ‘Is he alright?’
The man held up his hands. I could see in his eyes he believed I would use the knife. ‘He’s fine, he’s with Julius.’
I pointed to the door. ‘Take me to him,’ I demanded. ‘
Now
.’
The bag was pulled off my head and I was pushed backwards into a chair. I sat down with a jolt. I was in a living room: sofas, TV, chipped wooden sideboard. The man who had
shoved me in here looked nothing like I’d expected. For a start, he was young – but bald and wearing a suit and glasses. His manner was meek, almost apologetic, as he sat down on the
couch opposite me, his weapon in his hand.