Losing Lila Read Free

arm. In the darkness we could just about make out the tattoo of crossed swords, the words Semper Fi inked indelibly above. He ran his fingers over it. I followed suit.
    ‘Are you serious? You think they planted a tracking device on you? I mean, in you?’
    ‘Here, here, feel this.’ He grabbed my fingers and pressed them into the muscle. There was a tiny bump under the skin, almost imperceptible, like a raised scar. My eyes went wide.
    ‘I’ve seen this done,’ Alex whispered, tracing the tiny bump again with his fingertips. ‘Not on us, but when someone goes undercover. They plant a device just under the skin so they can track them. It’s almost undetectable. I just didn’t think for a second—’ He shook his head, pulling his T-shirt back on.
    ‘But if they’ve been able to track you this whole time, why didn’t they come after us from the start?’ I asked. ‘When they thought Demos had caught us, when we both disappeared, why didn’t they just follow the tracker then? Why wait until we were in a different country?’
    It didn’t make sense.
    ‘I don’t know.’ Alex shook his head, frowning at his arm.
    ‘What are you going to do?’ I asked, running my hand under his sleeve and over the minuscule bump.
    He didn’t answer. Instead he pulled a switchblade from his back pocket. I took a step backwards, my shoulders bumping the grille behind me. Alex rolled the sleeve of his T-shirt up and lifted the blade to his arm. And then the door flew open.
    A priest in black robes was standing there, his mouth gaping as he took in the scene before him – Alex holding a knife and me clutching a gun. He grabbed the rosary hanging around his neck and started squawking loudly in Spanish, his eyes rolling heavenwards. I glanced at the chapel behind him. Several people had turned to stare.
    ‘Sorry,’ I muttered to the priest as we barged past him out of the booth. The priest shouted something to our backs as we slipped out of the chapel and made our way towards the central aisle of the cathedral, which was now heaving with people. I clutched the gun against my thigh and tried to look inconspicuous, but I could feel the ripple of eyes and the swivel of heads as we passed.
    Alex skidded to a sudden stop in front of me, almost yanking my arm out of its socket. He spun us a hundred and eighty degrees and started heading back the way we’d just come, towards the angry priest. I glanced over my shoulder at the entrance. Six men in black combats had burst through the crowd gathered there. They stopped to let their eyes adjust to the gloom and we took the opportunity to hustle our way down a length of pew and disappear into a pack of tourists standing and admiring the altar. I risked another backwards glance over my shoulder. Two of the men from the Unit had headed off to the chapels on either side of the entrance, two more were heading to the other side of the church away from us, and the last two were moving down the central aisle straight towards us. One of them was holding a small palm-sized device which he kept glancing down at.
    With a final push, we shouldered our way through the crowd towards a little side door behind the altar. Alex reached for the handle and I took a final glance round the cathedral. I spied what I was looking for in a chapel on the far side, away from where the crowds were gathered. A statue of a saint stood in a little alcove high above the entrance. There was no one below it so I said a little prayer then tipped the statue off its plinth. It fell with a splintering crash that rocked through the muttering quiet of the church like a tidal wave. Instantly people started screaming, and running towards the exits and, in the blur of noise and chaos, Alex and I slipped silently through the little door.
    The room we came into was some kind of dressing room. A giant crucifix dominated one wall and choir robes hung from hooks on two other walls. Several candles were burning beneath the