Toys - James Patterson [49]
As I spun, I caught a glimpse of Lucy bravely leaping over the Tower’s outside wall. A second later came the splash of her hitting the river far below.
Thank God—underwater was the safest place she could be right now.
The warders were still following us and shooting, their ridiculous hats sailing off in the breeze as they jumped out onto the roof. I leaped forward and landed on a turret wall, then I scuttled around to its far side.
Next, I threw myself backward off the turret in another long, twisting flip and landed on top of the Tower’s outside wall, now facing the majestic Thames. I ran along the wall, sucking in air, straining to reach maximum speed.
The afternoon fog had turned to drizzle, and the surface of the huge bridge cable where I landed next was slippery with moisture. The awful sound of laser fire still hissed with menace in my ears.
But this was an acrobatic act that even the Elite assassins couldn’t follow. If I succeeded.
I dashed across the bridge’s top span and slid on my feet down the cable on the other side. I was like a kid on a snowboard—being shot at!
I finally saw Lucy again, dripping wet and running across the lower bridge past astonished motorists and a few stiff-upper-lipped Brit pedestrians.
“Don’t even slow down,” she shouted up to me.
“Couldn’t if I wanted to!” I called back. Then I dropped thirty feet or so to the pavement and continued to follow her lead. I had no idea yet why she was so important to the resistance, but she had certainly been a lifesaver for me.
So far.
Chapter 67
SOMEHOW WE MANAGED to get to shelter at a high-priority safe house run by MI7, right there in London. I had wanted to see the House of Lords, Westminster Abbey, the Tate—maybe even take a train to Paris—but I was stuck in an apartment under armed guard.
“What’s going on with you?” Lucy finally asked, clinking her fork onto her dinner plate. “You’ve got to be starving. But you’re picking at your food like a weight-conscious canary. And you’re looking at me like I’m the cat.”
It was our second day in the safe house, an apartment somewhere near Hyde Park that had an anonymous facade in a block-long building row that looked just like dozens of others around it. But were we actually safe here?
I had no idea, but I doubted it. The Elites were definitely on our trail now, and they were very good at this kind of skunkhunt.
The inside of the apartment was spacious and nicely furnished, complete with a servant android—who reminded me of Metallico, except female, much more polite, and armed. The gun-toting robot had set out a curious spread of roast beef, mutton, vegetables, mashed potatoes, scones, and jelly. Plus, a stiff drink for each of us.
But my appetite simply wouldn’t kick in, and I decided to speak my mind, even though it might create a breach between Lucy and me.
“Did you know about Lizbeth being in on 7-4 Day?” I asked. “You did, didn’t you, Lucy? You knew all this time, but never told me?”
She kept looking at me steadily. “Yes, I’m afraid I did, Hays.”
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew Sir Nigel would want to handle it himself. He told me as much.”
I set down my fork. Actually, I threw it at my plate.
“I’m sick to death of being jerked around,” I said. “And you seem to be doing a lot of the jerking, sister.”
“I’m sorry, Hays, I truly am. But that’s just the way things have gone so far. This is a crisis situation, no? It’s not me who wants to deceive you.”
“Got any more little secrets to share? I’d like to know all of them now.”
“Secrets?” she said scornfully. “If you want to talk about trust, we have a lot more reason not to trust you than the other way around. You were an Elite bastard until very recently. You were, you are, married to Lizbeth.”
Lucy stood up abruptly and stalked out of the room.
Well, that hadn’t gotten me very far, had it? In fact, it had been a disaster. I wanted to make a bond with Lucy, but I kept messing up. We both did.
By now I’d had some time to think about Lizbeth. Part of me kept insisting that what I’d heard so far was impossible. To start