Lone Wolf - Robert Muchamore Page 0,6
her elbow. Somehow she got running again. The shopping street was rammed, so she set off across a pedestrianised square with a Christmas tree at its centre.
There was no sign of the cop, but Fay was still in a strange town with no idea where she was and no idea whether her aunt had been busted. After a final sprint, she found herself on the far side of the square and reckoned she’d stand out less if she slowed to a brisk stroll.
Once she was walking again, Fay reached into her bag and checked her phone, but there hadn’t been any more messages from her aunt. She cut into a dingy-looking alleyway filled with barber shops, kebab houses and places that unlocked mobile phones. Her hand was still in the bag when a uniformed female cop appeared at the opposite end of the alleyway. She spun around, only to see that the original guy who’d been following her was closing in from behind.
‘Stay still and I won’t hurt you,’ the woman shouted, as she pulled out a baton.
Fay’s left hand rummaged inside her bag until she felt the handle of a small pocket knife. She figured that her best chance was to charge the smaller female cop, so she unfolded the blade and made a run.
Seeing nothing but a slim thirteen-year-old, the female officer made herself broad and took a clumsy swing with her extendable baton. Fay used her kickboxing training and spun away from the blow, then launched a backwards kick.
The policewoman’s body armour made this blow less effective than Fay had hoped, but it was enough to knock the officer off balance and send her slamming backwards into the aluminium shutters of a balti house.
The male officer had now caught up and he swung the baton at Fay’s arm in an attempt to knock the knife out of her hand. But Fay saw the move coming. She stepped back, then lunged with the knife as the officer overbalanced.
The tip of the blade caught the officer’s throat, before making a sweeping cut up his right cheek. Fay jumped back as the cop stumbled forwards coughing blood. If he died, she was screwed. If her aunt had been arrested, she was screwed. It was almost as bad as when they’d found her mum, tied up and tortured by one of the dealers they’d ripped off.
But at least I’m a good runner.
4. HIDE
Fay kept seeing the knife and the blood. She’d been running for ages, half expecting a helicopter overhead or squad cars to come and scoop her up. But she’d made it a couple of kilometres out of the town centre, to an area dominated by shabby low-rise housing.
Fay ducked between a side wall and an overgrown hedge. Her trainers squelched over frosty bin bags until she settled on a short row of steps leading to a boarded-up front door.
She checked her Samsung for messages, and there was nothing since the text from Aunt Kirsten: Turn your phone off. Cops might use it to track you.
She’d left the phone on, hoping for more information, but now she held the power off button until the screen went black. There was a lot to think about. How had they been set up? Had Kirsten got away? Was the cop dead? Where to go now?
Fay realised there was no point losing her head thinking about the big picture. Right now she had to focus on getting as much distance as possible between herself and the scene of the crime. She started forming a plan, which began by taking a tissue out of her jacket, moistening it on a frosty handrail and using it to wipe her bloody knife.
After dumping the stained tissue and shaking off frozen fingers, she pulled a Velcro wallet from the back of her jeans. She had twenty-five pounds, plus a cash card which the police would trace in seconds if she dared to use it.
Fay reckoned the best strategy would be to go back to her home turf in north London. The police might know about the apartment in St John’s Wood, but Kirsten had a flat and a couple of lock-ups in less salubrious neighbourhoods and it was also where Kirsten would head if she’d got away.
The problem was, the police would have CCTV from the hotel showing what Fay looked like and what she was wearing, and they’d doubtless have people on lookout at the train stations. If it had been summer Fay would have considered spending