Exiled (TalentBorn Book 2) Read online

  Dammit, I’m going to drive myself mad. I’m pretty sure I’ve already driven Iain mad. Or at least away: he’s gone for a walk outside. I should have gone with him – being cooped up down here isn’t doing me any favours. I spent too much time with him here. Every little thing is a reminder. We sat together on that sofa. He kissed me in that corridor. He– Well, he’s everywhere here. And nowhere.

  I need some air. I head up to the surface, ignoring the curious looks and hushed whispers that follow me, and emerge into the fading daylight. I’m the only one out here, aside from a lone figure in the distance: Iain, I’d be willing to bet. He’s walking slowly, with a phone pressed to his ear. I hope that means his contact has managed to narrow the area down a little. Andrew – the guy from the meeting who can trace a phone signal – has already headed out to the junction the van was spotted leaving the motorway. It could be that he’s already within thirty miles of Pearce, but we can’t afford to take chances. The tighter we can narrow our search grid, the better our chances of success. I refuse to consider the alternative.

  As I get closer, Iain waves once and ends his call.

  “Anna, how are you holding up?”

  I shrug. That’s not something I want to delve into too deeply.

  “Sorry, stupid question.” He thrusts his hands deep into his pockets. “That was Gareth. He managed to pick up the van on CCTV heading through Broughall. He loses it going through some back roads, and so far he hasn’t picked it up on any cameras leaving the area.”

  “So that’s it then? Broughall?”

  “As far as we can tell.”

  I nod, and glance back at the barn. So much for my air. I don’t much have a taste for it anyway: I’ve got a call to make.

  We’re still early when we reach Ephraim’s office. I’m only mildly surprised to see Ephraim, Mika and Rohan already gathered there. I guess none of them are stomaching the wait any better than I am. They’ve got a lot invested in this too – I’m asking them to put a lot on the line for us.

  “Rohan,” Ephraim says, as we walk through the door. “If you intend to be part of the decoy group, you should go to Alistair. He will wish to brief you on your role.”

  Rohan looks to Mika and she gives him an encouraging smile.

  “Go. I will see you tonight.”

  Their hands entwine briefly and then he leaves. I’m grateful. It’s not that I don’t like – or even trust – Rohan, but I’m anxious enough about making this call, and the fewer people here, the better.

  “You have the location?” Ephraim asks Iain.

  “The van was last seen heading through Broughall.”

  “Andrew is only a few miles away. I’ll have him head over there.”

  “How does it work, exactly?” I ask. “His, um, gift.”

  My sudden onset of diplomacy doesn’t go unnoticed, though it does go unremarked. Except by me, of course: I can’t stand the terminology, and if the slight tightening around Iain’s eyes is anything to go by, his internal monologue is remarking on it plenty too.

  “Each electronic signal is unique, not unlike a fingerprint. Andrew possesses the ability to detect and differentiate the signals. He will be able to trace the phone to its location even after the call has terminated, no matter what countermeasures may be engaged. I will liaise with him.”

  I nod. That sounds a lot more effective than trying to latch onto a mast to trace the signal.

  “Let’s do this, then.”

  Ephraim hands me a bulky black mobile phone that looks like something from the dark ages.

  “He won’t be able to trace this phone.”

  I take it from him. Pearce’s number was on the phone I threw out of our car window, but he wouldn’t have been lax enough to leave it turned on anyway. I dial AbGen and cut straight to the chase.

  “It’s me. Tell Pearce to call me on this number. Five minutes.”

  I end the call. Iain’s hand closes over mine and I realise I must have been drumming my fingers on the desk again.

  “You can do this.”

  I nod, and swallow the lump in my throat. One way or another, I will do this, and by this time tomorrow, it will be over. I close my eyes and let Scott’s image swim in front of my eyes. His scent fill my nostrils. The warmth of his hands trace the hollow of my cheek. I invite it all in, until there is no room for anything else. Only him. Only us. Only hope.

  I don’t know if the five minutes glided painlessly past while I’m lost in my self-induced hallucination, or if Pearce has been waiting for my call, but it feels like just a few seconds later that a shrill ringtone shatters my bliss and brings me back to Ephraim’s office, and the three faces staring at me. Ephraim speaks into his phone in hushed tones: updating Andrew, no doubt.

  The phone shakes in my hand as I pick it up and answer it, immediately putting it onto loudspeaker so Mika can hear Pearce’s responses.

  “Yes?” I aim for imperious, but it comes out as more of a croak. I want to clear my throat but I know he’d take that as a sign of weakness, and if this is going to work, I need to keep him on the back foot.

  “Anna, my dear. I was starting to think you weren’t going to call.”

  “I had to find a nice, public place for us to make the trade. Just in case your men get any ideas.”

  “I’m hurt. Nothing could be further from my mind.”

  Mika shakes her head – a lie – but I don’t need to be a lie detector to see through that one. Pearce would do it in a heartbeat if he thought he could get away with it. Alistair will have to be on his guard.

  “Cut the crap, Pearce,” I say, with as much venom as I can inject into my voice. “Let me speak to Scott.” Pearce simply chuckles.

  “Such poor manners. Those will be the first to go, I believe.”

  A shudder runs through me and I push it aside irritably. If he wants a reaction from me, he’s going to be disappointed.

  “Very well,” he concedes. “I will give you a chance to say your goodbyes – you won’t be seeing him for a long time.”

  “Anna, don’t do it!”

  I hear a wet thud that some part of me instinctively knows is flesh striking flesh. Scott grunts in pain.

  “Leave him alone!”

  “It’s… okay, Anna. I’m okay.”

  But he’s not. Pearce is hurting him. And I want to hurt Pearce.

  “I’m going to kill you, Pearce.”

  “No, you’re not, Anna,” he says, far too calmly for my liking. “You’re going to do exactly as I say.”

  “I’m not yours yet,” I remind him. “If you want me to walk into that cage, you know what you have to do.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I have every intention of upholding my end of the deal.” If I look at Mika I know she’ll be shaking her auburn locks again, but I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the phone lying on the desk.

  “As do I,” I lie as smoothly as him.

  “Really, Miss Mason? And I suppose that is why your phone is on loudspeaker?”

  My blood runs cold, but I don’t let it freeze my voice.

  “I already told you I won’t be coming alone. My friends will make sure Scott gets home safely.”

  “Ah yes, so thoughtful. Please do say hello to my good friend Ephraim for me.”

  I shoot a look at Ephraim but bite my tongue. Pearce wants to freeze me with indecision, to make me doubt the Ishmaelians and divide us. But Scott is all that matters now.

  “And perhaps you’ll say hello to Joe’s family for me – I assume they’re still at Langford House?”

  “You’ll be able to say hello to them yourself soon enough.”

  Mika shrugs. Dammit. If he keeps side-stepping the question then we’ll never be able to get a read on him. And if I ask him directly it’ll tip him off.

  “Adjacent cells in Langford’s basement, is that the plan?”

  “Quite. I’m sure you’ll all enjoy the company. And I have no doubt you would do nothing to jeopardise their good health, hmm?”

 
Mika’s hair is bouncing up and down. He’s telling the truth. They’re at AbGen. That’s all I need.

  “I’m giving you what you want, Pearce. No-one needs to get hurt.”

  “Your actions over the coming days will determine that, Miss Mason.”

  “I’ll be in Ryebridge Park at ten a.m. tomorrow.”

  “Oh? And here I was thinking you’d want to get the lovely Scott safe sooner.”

  His name punches a hole in my gut and it’s all I can do not to collapse around it. The implied threat isn’t lost on me. I can’t rise to the bait. Pearce needs to think he holds all the cards – his arrogance is our best weapon.

  “I’ve got some loose ends to tie up. Just make sure you’re there with Scott.”

  I reach over and end the call and try to prise the battery out but the stupid thing won’t budge. Dammit! Piece of junk. A hand touches my arm and I turn to give its owner a feral glare. It’s Iain. The anger drains from me, and he takes the phone gently from my shaking hands, then slides the battery out and places the two separate pieces back on the desk. I entwine my empty hands in my lap, then separate them and pick some dirt from under one of the gnawed nails. I don’t know when I started chewing them. Sometime in the last couple of days, I guess.

  Why the hell is it so cold in here? I can’t stop stupid shivering. I wrap my arms around myself and watch Ephraim silently. He’s still muttering into his phone. How long does it take Andrew to do his thing, anyway? And what sort of stupid talent takes so damned long to work? My foot starts tapping frantically and I make an effort to hold it still, leaving a tremor running up my entire leg. Oh, come on! What’s taking so long?

  “Good work, Andrew.”

  Ephraim ends the call.

  “He has the location.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I can’t sleep. I mean, not that it’s any surprise, right? My old quarters are still as I left them, and the Ishmaelians have set up a room for Iain too, but I can’t sleep here. Not in the same bed me and Scott shared for weeks. The photo of us is still hanging on the wall, his arm around my shoulder and my hair in total disarray. I can barely remember what it feels like to be that happy. What a difference a few weeks makes. I pace the room like a caged animal for maybe half an hour before I can’t stomach being in there anymore. Who needs sleep, anyway?

  After a couple of hours of prowling the barn aimlessly, I find myself in the dining hall. It’s deserted – because all the sane people are asleep – so I slump into a chair in the corner and pass the time staring at a wall and tormenting myself with all the things that are probably going to go wrong.

  When people start trickling into the room, I know it must be morning. They all give me a wide berth, which is fine by me. I don’t feel up to socialising right now: I just want to get this over with. The clock on the wall tells me it’s just gone six. Four more hours. Two hundred and forty minutes. I start counting them off in sixty seconds blocks. More people come and go.

  “Anna, are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” I answer automatically, without looking up. I hear Mika sink into the seat opposite me.

  “Rohan, go and find Iain.”

  “Geez, Anna, you look awful,” Iain says, dropping into the seat next to me. I frown at the table top. It didn’t take him long to get here.

  “She’s just been staring at the table. I’m not even sure she’s heard a word I’ve said in the last ten minutes.”

  Ten minutes? My frown deepens, but I don’t have the energy to think it through.

  “Have you even slept at all?” Iain. I shake my head.

  “Look at me.”

  I do – or at least I lift my head a look in the direction the voice came from.

  “You’re going to have Scott back in less than three hours. You need to keep it together. Say his name.”

  “Scott.” My tongue feels heavy in my mouth.

  A plate of food and a steaming mug appear on the table in front of me.

  “Eat.”

  “What’s the point? I’m not going to be able to keep anything down.”

  “Scott’s the point. You need to be at the top of your game. This–” he gestures me up and down, “is not going to cut it. Scott’s counting on you.”

  Scott’s counting on me. I nod and spoon a mouthful of the hot food into my mouth. I can’t taste it, but I feel my body start to react to the nourishment. I reach for the mug and gulp some of the contents down. I need to get my head together. Scott’s counting on me. I feel myself coming back to life.

  “How long do we have?” I ask between mouthfuls.

  “We’ll leave in an hour.”

  There’s a pause, and I look up from my plate to see three pairs of eyes watching me closely. No, two pairs: Rohan’s eyes never leave Mika.

  “I’m fine,” I tell them firmly. “Honestly.”

  And I am. Don’t get me wrong, I’m exhausted, and I’m one big bundle of anxiety, but I’m okay. The food and coffee are starting to work their magic, and I’m feeling halfway human again. We can do this. By mid-day, Scott and Joe’s family will be free. Helen, Nathan, Joe and Nora will have defected from AbGen, striking a serious blow against Pearce. With luck, they’ll sign on with the Ishmaelians, doubling that blow. With their help, AbGen will fall, and then we can finally be free. All of us. Two little shifts. That’s all I have to do. And sleep-deprived or not, I’m plenty capable.

  “You should get going,” Mika says to Rohan, drawing him towards her and planting a chaste kiss in his lips. I feel as pang of guilt for the danger – however small – Rohan and the rest of the decoy group are putting themselves in to make sure we pull this off.

  “Rohan,” I say, and pause. “Thank you.”

  He ducks his head, cheeks colouring, and disappears from the room. Mika immediately starts to fidget.

  “It’s going to be fine,” I tell her, and place my hand over hers. “Pearce won’t try anything in a public place. He can’t risk the exposure.”

  She nods, but I know she won’t believe it until he’s back in her arms. And I know how she feels.

  “We should go, too,” Iain says, rising from the table and then pausing. “Wait here.”

  I glance at the clock, but no, I haven’t lost another hour. We’re still early. Iain disappears into the kitchen before I can question him, and reappears a few moments later with a thermos in hand.

  “Coffee,” he says, no further explanation necessary. I can already feel the lack of sleep creeping up on me again.

  We say our goodbyes and head off to the car. Ephraim has provided us with a new EM shielded phone, so we can check back in with him as soon as we have Scott, without having to sit around waiting for it to reboot.

  “Why are we leaving so early?” I ask. Not that I’m complaining – anything is better than sitting around waiting. Even sitting around while Iain drives to Broughall.

  “You’ve got trust issues.”

  “Yeah, with good reason.” I’m not in the mood for character assassination, although I have to admit it’s one way to pass the time. I slide into the car and shut the door. Iain gets in the other side and pulls his seatbelt on.

  “What I meant was, I thought you might be happier if we stopped on the way and picked up a fresh phone. Just in case you don’t feel like going back to our hosts.”

  “Much happier,” I agree. “But I’m not planning on betraying them.”

  He says nothing, and that’s when I realise he’s not talking about us betraying them. There’s a comforting thought.

  “And you say I have trust issues,” I mutter as he puts the car in gear. And with those happy thoughts pulsing in the front of my mind, we set off.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “According to Ephraim, it’s somewhere round here.”

  We’ve been driving for a little under two hours, and we’re deep in the heart of Cheshire, crawling through a myriad of narrow country lanes. Fields sprawl on either side of us, uneven and unkempt, and I look around the e
xpansive horizon.

  “It could be anywhere. Did he give you directions?”

  Iain shakes his head.

  “We’ve got a grid reference, but it’s only four figures. It could be anywhere within a quarter mile of here.”

  “I can’t shift somewhere if I don’t know where it is,” I say, my voice shrill, even to my own ears. I take a breath and let it out slowly. Now is not the time to panic.

  “We’ll call him. Maybe he’s got a more precise grid reference or something.”

  “The phone Ephraim gave us is in the glove compartment.”

  I reach down to release the catch, and catch a glimpse of the wing mirror. There’s a speck in it, growing larger by the second. I sit bolt upright.

  “Do you see that?” I ask Iain, twisting round to look back over my shoulder.

  “It’s probably nothing. Just someone else passing through this way.”

  We haven’t seen a single vehicle in twenty minutes, and now there’s one tearing towards us at high speed. Neither of us needs to say it. The odds of it being a commuter are slim. I twist round again – it’s definitely gaining on us. I can make out the motorbike and its rider clearly now. One of Pearce’s men, patrolling the area?

  We’ve got two choices: pull over and hope he passes us by, taking us for lost tourists, or floor it and hope we can lose him. The bike is faster than us, but its rider might not be willing to risk the tight turns at speed. We, on the other hand, have nothing to lose. Iain glances down at my securely locked seatbelt, and sets his jaw. A second later, the car screams as he jams the accelerator down, flipping through the gears rapidly. I alternate between gripping my seat until my knuckles turn white, and spinning round to check on the bike’s progress. It’s right on our tail now, and the biker flicks his lights on and off. Iain throws the car through a tight bend, and the biker falls behind, but a few seconds later he’s back on us, looming in the mirrors.

  Suddenly it starts to drop back. We’re not going any faster, he’s just easing off. Deciding we’re not worth it, perhaps? Or maybe he’s pushed us away from Pearce’s hideout. It doesn’t matter, we can’t afford to slow – we need to lose him completely, so we can double back. And now we’re against the clock.