Double-Cross (14 page)

Ketty rushed over to him. ‘It was brilliant,’ she said.

She hugged him. Jealousy wriggled through me like a snake. Cal put his arms round her, then looked up at me. He raised his eyebrows, triumphant.

I stared from him to Ketty, knowing that I’d been rude, but with no idea what to do to make things right . . . to make Ketty see I wasn’t mean and difficult, like she’d said.

‘Which way’s Sydney?’ Dylan asked, turning round from Ed.

Cal pointed through the trees. ‘Though it’s only the very outskirts,’ he said.

Ketty disentangled herself from his hug. She didn’t look at me.

‘Are you okay, Ed?’ she said, her voice filled with concern.

Ed nodded, his face still unnaturally pale and tinged with green.

‘I don’t think I’m going to be sick now,’ he said.

Dylan rolled her eyes. ‘Awesome,’ she said. ‘Did you hear him screaming? Right in my ear!’

We set off through the wood. Soon the spaces between the trees became so narrow we could only walk single file. Cal led the way, followed by Ketty. I was last.

After another twenty minutes we reached the street. A hundred metres or so along the road were a few shops and a bus stop where we were planning on getting a bus to the city centre. Cal told us the name of the place, but I barely heard him. Ketty still hadn’t looked at me . . . hadn’t come near me, in fact, since our flight had ended.

The sun was low in the sky now and a cool breeze whipped through the trees behind us, making me shiver.

‘What d’you wanna do now?’ Cal said.

‘Let’s head for that diner,’ I said, pointing to a café along the road just beside the bus stop.

This stage of the plan was critical. We had to wait and keep our eyes open for a bus so that when one came, we could make a speedy exit – hopping on the bus before Cal realised what was happening.

As we strolled down the street, Ketty hung back, waiting till I caught up with her. She wasn’t smiling.

‘Change of plan,’ she said. ‘We’re not leaving Cal behind. Dylan and Ed agree.’

‘No way.’ Anger rose up in me. ‘That’s stupid, Ketty. We don’t know if we can trust him. He’s Avery Jones’s son.’

‘Well, Harry is Jack Linden’s son and we trusted him.’

‘Only after Ed mind-read him.’

‘Ed’s mind-read Cal again, too.’

I stared at her. ‘When did that happen?’

‘Earlier. Dylan said we shouldn’t tell you yet, but I’m fed up of all of us having to work around your ego.’ She threw me a withering look. ‘Cal can be useful. He wants to help. Ed says we can trust him. He’s in.’

Ketty marched off. Furious, I sped up, trying to reach her, but as I passed Ed, he telepathically pushed his way into my head.

Er, Nico . . . ?

What?

I’m certain Cal doesn’t know if Avery is doing stuff behind our backs.

Get out of my head.

Ed vanished and I stomped along, head down.

We reached the diner. Everyone else went inside, but I stayed out on the pavement. My shadow cast a long oval across the road. For a moment, I considered going to the bank on my own. But even as the idea occurred to me, I knew that it was impossible. I’d seen the floor plans and the security protocols. No way could I get into the room with the safety deposit box on my own. I needed the others.

I kicked at the wall of the diner then went inside.

Ketty, Cal, Ed and Dylan were sipping milkshakes in one of the booths. They looked up as I walked over. I folded my arms and took a deep breath.

‘Okay, Cal can come,’ I said.

Ed smiled. Dylan rolled her eyes. Cal offered me a smug grin.

I glanced at Ketty. She was staring down at her lap. Irritation raced through me.

‘But you stick close to me, Cal, okay?’ I said.

Cal nodded. ‘Sure, boss,’ he said sarcastically.

I checked the road through the window. A bus marked
City Centre
was trundling along the street towards our stop.

‘Finish your drinks,’ I said. ‘We’re off.’

15: Bank Job

I sat on my own at the back of the bus. Dylan was in front of me, next to Cal. Ketty had positioned herself in the seat in front of them, next to Ed.

As the bus turned a corner onto a busier street, Cal turned round.

‘I don’t get it,’ he said. ‘I mean, I know that you’re planning on getting into the bank and I know why you want this safety deposit box, but why are we going now without a full briefing or back-up from Avery?’

Dylan raised her eyebrows. Ed and Ketty stopped talking and looked around too. I cleared my throat.

‘Ed and I have sorted everything we need to know – so no need for a briefing. And I’m sorry if you’d feel happier with back-up from Daddy, but we’re used to operating on our own.’

Cal’s face turned scarlet. Ketty’s angry glare burned my cheeks. Ed shook his head. I sat back in my seat and gazed out of the window. Who cared what they all thought.

After twenty minutes of awkward silence we reached the bank.

‘Any visions, Ketts?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

She shook her head, making eye contact with me for the first time since before the diner. ‘I’m too stressed to see anything,’ she snapped. ‘Which is totally your fault.’

Don’t blame me, they’re your powers.
I bit back the words.

‘We’ll be fine without the precog,’ Dylan said impatiently. ‘Let’s just get going.’

I nodded. ‘Wait here. I’m going inside to see how it looks.’

I put my sunglasses on and kept my head bowed as I opened the door into the bank.

It was large and intimidatingly smart, with an atmosphere of hushed formality. The foyer felt cold after the heat of the street. A blast of air con sent a shiver across the back of my neck.

The woman at the help desk just to the left of the entrance looked up at me suspiciously. I kept my head down. No way was I making the same mistake here that I had at the art gallery.

Beyond her the bank was quiet. Just a small knot of people around the paying-in machines and a couple standing with a teller. There was only one security guard, but unfortunately, he was standing close to the staff door that was our route through to the bank vault containing the safety deposit boxes. I left the bank.

‘There’s hardly anyone in there,’ I said, trotting down the steps to where the others waited outside on the pavement.

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Cal said.

‘Not really,’ I snapped. ‘It means fewer distractions for the bank workers so they’re more likely to spot us.’

‘No one’s gonna spot us,’ Dylan drawled. ‘Not if you take care of the security cameras.’

‘Ed has to take care of the security guard by the staff door first,’ I said, giving him a nudge. ‘Go on,’ I urged. ‘Inside.’

Ed gave a business-like nod, then vanished inside. We stood on the pavement, waiting. Our plan followed the same procedure that we’d used many times before. Ed would use his newly-honed hypnosis skills to ensure no one stopped us as we passed through the locked door that led along the corridor to the bank vault. The rest was up to me and, if we were attacked, to Dylan as well.

I glanced at Ketty. We all knew that, of the four of us standing outside, Ed was most likely to contact her telepathically when he was ready.

‘Not yet,’ she said.

Suddenly Cal jerked his head up. ‘Whoa!’ His eyes widened. ‘Ed’s inside my mind.’

I frowned. Why was Ed communicating with
Cal?

‘That’s nice,’ Dylan said with a sarky smile. ‘Ed’s trying to make you feel like you’re part of the group.’

‘What’s he saying?’ asked Ketty.

‘He’s saying he’s mind-read the security guy and planted the idea that its okay for us to walk through the staff door.’

I tugged my hood over my head. ‘Let’s go.’

As I entered the bank a second time, it occurred to me just how amazing Ed’s mind-reading talent was . . . and how far he had developed it in such a short time. From basic telepathy to an ability to manipulate other people’s thoughts was a massive achievement, not that Ed ever made a big deal of it.

He was waiting by the door. He glanced around the bank, waving his hand to indicate the security guard by the staff door across the lobby.

‘He’s expecting us to walk through that door in the next few minutes, then he’ll forget we were ever here,’ he said. ‘I haven’t hurt him or even looked beyond the surface layer of his thoughts.’

‘Thanks, Ed,’ I said. ‘That’s brilliant.’

Ed’s face reddened with pride.

‘Come on.’ Dylan pointed at a couple of customers now walking out of the bank. ‘Let’s go while it’s quiet.’

We crossed the lobby. As we neared the security guard, I looked around for the security camera I knew would be trained on the staff door behind him.

There
. It was positioned on the opposite wall, just below the ceiling. I twisted my wrist, intending to turn the camera so that the lens pointed away from the door.

The camera didn’t budge. I stopped . . . tried again . . . nothing.

My heart raced. I could feel the others watching me. I raised my hand higher this time, focusing harder on the arm of the camera that protruded from the wall. Why wouldn’t it move?

‘What’s wrong?’ Dylan hissed in my ear.

‘The camera’s stuck,’ I said.

‘We have to move it,’ said Ed, his voice rising with anxiety. ‘We can’t risk anyone seeing us going inside.’

I tried again. The camera refused to move.

‘What are we going to do?’ Ketty asked.

The blood throbbed in my temples. If the camera wouldn’t move, I had to think of another way to prevent it from filming us.

‘I’m going to cover the lens,’ I said.

I glanced around the room. My eyes fell on a pile of papers on the front desk. If I could get the street door to fly open at the right moment, I could make it look as if a gust of wind blew into the bank and sent the papers flying into the air. As soon as I thought this, I acted.

In one flowing movement, I opened the door telekinetically and teleported the papers into the air. People turned around, their mouths agape at the disturbance.

I kept my focus on a single sheet of paper, lifting it higher and higher until it was positioned over the camera lens.

‘Come on!’ I breathed.

The five of us raced over to the staff door. We needn’t have worried about the security guard; he was transfixed by the papers still swirling in the air.

I focused on the lock. A swift flick of my hand and the security bar sprang open.

Dylan and Cal raced through the door. Ed and Ketty stopped. Our plan was for them to wait in the lobby for us to return, ready to send a warning telepathically if need be.

As I passed Ketty, we looked into each other’s eyes. I wanted to say something . . . to put our earlier row behind us . . . but I had no idea what. Anyway, there was no time.

‘Go,’ she whispered.

And, with a final twist of my hand to release all the papers still soaring about the bank lobby, I followed Cal and Dylan through the door. It shut behind me with a snap.

We were in a long corridor. Doors led off on either side, but from the plans we’d seen earlier, the vault with the safety deposit box we were looking for was right at the end.

We flew along the carpet, round a corner to the left. I spotted another security camera up ahead. This one turned easily when I focused on it.

We ran, silently, past an open office. Neither of the workers inside the small room noticed us. Seconds later we reached a sturdy locked door. I opened it using telekinesis. No problem. Behind it stood the vault. The opening was arched and made from metal. It was a harder lock for me to get past, but I was confident I could do it.

I stood facing the vault, both arms outstretched, visualising how it would look from the inside. I’d learned some time back that you don’t need to be able to see the lock in precise detail in order to open it . . . but you do have to see it as a whole.

Seconds ticked by. Dylan paced backwards and forwards, the flick of her red ponytail just in my eyeline.

‘What’s holding us up?’ Cal said desperately.

‘Shut up,’ I snapped.

I could hear him muttering to himself. Then Dylan’s whispered drawl. She was presumably telling him that I needed time to get the vault door open.

I redoubled my efforts. At last the four vault locks released as one and the three of us ran inside the vault. It was a small room, one wall of which was lined with tiny cubicles.

‘Look for safety deposit box 1763,’ I reminded the others.

We raced up and down the lines. My heart thudded. We hadn’t heard from Ed yet – which had to mean the coast was still clear. But every second we spent in here, we were taking a terrible risk.

‘Here it is!’ Cal pointed at one of the cubicles. He turned to me expectantly. ‘It’s locked.’

Another flick of my wrist and the cubicle popped open. Cal drew the handle back. Six boxes were stacked inside. He pulled them out.

‘Here,’ he said.

He handed safety deposit box 1763 to Dylan who set it on the table in the middle of the room. It was made of chrome and about the size of a shoebox.

I bent over the electronic keyholes and punched in the entry code Ed had mind-read from McMurdo, trying to shut out the hushed tension of the room and the sound of my own frantic heartbeat.