Under Cover (Agent 21) Read Online Free Page A

just a few metres from Ricky’s position. ‘You’d better pass us any money you’ve got, if you don’t want us to be waiting for you in the morning.’
    – Stay still!
    The witch gave a harsh laugh and retreated.
    The darkness deepened. The only light came from the vehicles circling Bloomsbury Square. Ricky started to shiver.
    – Put some more clothes on.
    He pulled a threadbare jumper out of his bag. It helped a bit. He peered towards the railings again. They were about two metres high, with sharp points on the top. Nobody was getting in here tonight. He was safe, until morning.
    Ricky lay on the cold ground and used his bag as a pillow. The earth leached the warmth from his body and he started to shiver and ache. His swollen, painful face felt twice its usual size. He tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. He soon grew hungry again, and wished he’d saved one of his chocolate bars.
    He sat up and removed the letter from his sister from his rucksack. His hands always trembled slightly when he removed the single piece of paper from the envelope. Before he unfolded it, he sniffed the paper. He sometimes thought he could smell Madeleine’s perfume, but maybe that was his mind playing tricks. He opened it up and started to read, only just able to pick out the letters in the gloom:

    Ricky closed his eyes and folded the paper again. He couldn’t bear to read on tonight. He tucked the letter carefully back into his rucksack, and tried to sleep again.
    The hours passed slowly. In the small hours of the morning he sat up and once more peered through the foliage towards the railings. The traffic had died down now and there were only a few late-night passers-by. He tried to pick out their faces, to see if any of them was the witch. But it was too dark to tell.
    – Maybe she’s wandered off to find someone else to steal from.
    – Yeah. Maybe.
    Or maybe not.
    Thoughts rebounded in his head as he tried to plan his next move. He couldn’t pick pockets with a face like this. Could the remains of his twenty pounds last until his bruises healed? It would have to . . .
    Ricky had once heard someone say that the darkest hour came just before dawn. He didn’t know if that was true, but it was certainly the coldest. His body had given up shivering, like it didn’t have the energy. He was numb and could barely feel his own limbs. He forced himself to stand up in an attempt to get his blood moving.
    And that was when he saw them. Three silhouettes.
    Like dangerous animals in a zoo, they prowled along the railings on either side of the gate. Occasionally they stopped, held the railings and looked in. From a distance, Ricky recognized the witch’s face. It was drawn and lean, and there was a nasty hunger in her eyes – like a predator that knew there was an easy meal within reach. He looked at the other silhouettes in turn. One of them was female, the other male. All thin. All with the same desperate look in their eyes.
    – They’ve probably got knives. You should hand over your money now. Save yourself getting cut.
    – No way. That’ll leave me with nothing. I’ll starve . . .
    – Maybe I should stash what I’ve got left in my shoe again . . .
    But he only had coins now, and if he stuffed those in his shoe they would hinder him if he had to run. Not that he thought he’d be able to run, he was so cold. This was going to end ugly.
    The grey light of dawn arrived. As the traffic started to build up again, the vultures continued to loiter around the square. And when, an hour after first light, the park-keeper returned to open up the gate, they thronged around it. Feeding time.
    The witch was the first to enter, along with one of her companions, a man with tombstone teeth and tattoos over his neck. The others loitered by the gate, obviously ready to catch Ricky if he made a run for it.
    – She’s coming your way.
    – Thanks. I noticed.
    – What are you going to do?
    Ricky picked up his bag, then stepped out