The Set Up Read Free Page A

find out.
    I checked the suggested meeting place again. I knew where Trafalgar Square was, but getting to central London on Saturday wouldn’t be easy. Fergus would never give me permission to go so far on my own.
    Fox Academy is based north of the city, right at the end of the underground’s Northern Line. If you want to go into town at the weekend, one of your parents has to sign a special permission slip. Fergus only let me go once, and that was on pain of a million detentions if I wasn’t back by 5 p.m. I got back just before six. He hit the roof and I was grounded for three weeks.
    Still, I’d sneaked out often enough since then.
    I asked Tom if he’d cover for me if Fergus asked where I was on Saturday.
    ‘No worries,’ he said. ‘What’re you doing?’
    I shrugged, doing my best to look casual. ‘Just a date.’
    Tom grinned. ‘Fit?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Cool.’
    Sorted.
    The sun was shining in a bright blue sky and Trafalgar Square was heaving with tourists.
    I’d got away from school without anyone seeing, then made it down to Charing Cross tube station in plenty of time. I was now standing by one of the lions at the base of the stone column in the centre of Trafalgar Square, waiting.
    Almost fifteen minutes had passed and I was starting to think whoever had texted me wasn’t coming, when I spotted a girl on the other side of the square.
    Now, obviously, being male and not dead, I tend to notice pretty girls, but this one really stood out. For a start, there was her hair. It was red and very long – almost to her waist. And then there was the way she walked – swaying slightly, like a model on a catwalk. She was dressed in boots and denim shorts and every head turned as she crossed the square.
    I watched her too. After a few seconds I realised she was looking right back. In fact, she was walking towards me.
    A few seconds later and she was standing in front of me – all long legs, creamy skin and slanting, pale green eyes.
    ‘Are you Nico?’An American accent.
    ‘Yes,’ I said, trying to look as if unbelievably fit strangers approached me all the time. ‘Er . . . how do you know my name?’
    The girl smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. The smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘I’m Dylan,’ she said, rather coolly. ‘Jack sent me.’
    ‘Oh.’ I stood there, feeling stupid. I wasn’t prepared for this . . . some beautiful girl coming out of nowhere, talking in riddles. ‘Who’s Jack?’
    ‘The guy who sent you the text about this meeting,’ Dylan said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘He’s my godfather . . . Jack Linden. Come on, he wants to meet you.’
    She glided away. I followed, feeling completely bewildered. As we reached the edge of the square I stopped.
    ‘Wait,’ I said.
    Dylan twisted her long hair in her hand. She raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes?’
    ‘How does this Jack Linden know me? How . . . where did he get my number?’
    ‘He’s kind of like a database expert . . . he can get hold of any telephone number he wants. He would have met you himself but he was worried you might have been followed.’
    ‘Followed?’ I stared at her. ‘By who?’
    ‘Fergus, of course.’
    ‘Why would he follow me?’ I remembered the text had specifically mentioned him. ‘How do you know Fergus, anyway?’ This was getting weirder and weirder.
    ‘Jack’ll explain everything.’ And she glided off again.
    Head spinning, I had no choice but to follow. Without speaking, Dylan led me up St Martin’s Lane and along a very busy Long Acre. As we stopped at some traffic lights, I studied her face. She was undeniably beautiful – like a doll or a painting. But there was something cold and aloof about her I didn’t like at all.
    I suddenly missed Ketty.
    We turned off the main road about halfway down. The bustle and noise of shoppers and traffic immediately calmed. Dylan took me along a series of short, increasingly deserted roads. We turned into a little