Felix grinned, which allowed a strand of pastrami to escape his lips and hang from the corner of his mouth.
“How come you’re not fat?” Georgie asked, chomping down on her own bagel. Felix shrugged and kept chewing. A businessman shoved past them to reach the front of the queue so Felix and Georgie hurried out of the way and back on to the main concourse of London Bridge Station.
“What is it about Chris and stations?” Felix asked, once his mouth was at last free of bagel. “We’re going to spend the rest of our lives hiding in underground passages.”
“They’re good places to hide, I guess,” replied Georgie. “We don’t exactly want Miss Bennett to be able to drop in any time she likes. Chris is the Government’s biggest enemy.”
“Apart from Jimmy,” added Felix, with a hint of pride.
“Maybe.”
Georgie’s eyes were constantly scanning the faces of everybody else in the station. Any of the security staff could be looking for them, acting on instructions from NJ7. Any of the commuters could be plain-clothes security staff.
Meanwhile, Felix watched Georgie carefully. She was paying more attention to the surroundings than she was to her bagel. Every now and again Felix wondered whether she might have hidden inside her some of the same powers that Jimmy had. Perhaps she just hadn’t discovered them yet. Felix didn’t dare to ask, but he was amazed at how well Georgie adapted to this life of hiding, of constantly monitoring everybody around her, of surviving on station food when every journey in public was a potential death trap. He felt almost as reassured being with her as he would have with Jimmy. Plus, there was the chance that she wouldn’t finish her bagel and he’d get the leftovers.
“Come on,” said Georgie firmly, “we’d better get back. We’ve been in the open too long already.” They hurried across the station forecourt.
“It’s not my fault,” replied Felix. “They took ages to make my bagel.”
“Next time just have something normal. You know, from the shelf.”
“What’s wrong with pastrami and pineapple?” Felix polished off the last bite with a grin and took Georgie’s bottle of smoothie from her hand.
“Hey!” she protested.
“Just a sip.”
“OK, but drink with your head down.” Georgie flicked her eyes towards the security cameras. Felix struggled to drink from the bottle while keeping his face turned towards the floor.
“Do you think Jimmy can drink without moving his head?” he asked.
“Most people can drink without moving their…” Georgie turned to see that Felix had ended up with a dribble of smoothie down his chin. “OK,” she corrected herself. “Most sane people.”
Felix wiped his mouth and couldn’t help chuckling. He’d never imagined that he’d end up being such close friends with Georgie. Not only was she a girl, but she was two years older than him. Despite that, it didn’t feel weird. There was nobody else for him to spend time with. No school, no socialising…No family, he thought. He felt a chill run through his bones. The idea crept up on him without warning.
Felix’s parents had been seized in New York by men who looked like NJ7 agents. They hadn’t been seen since. But they were constantly on Felix’s mind, on the edge of every thought. He used to think he’d seen them every time he was in a crowd of people, but such illusions quickly faded. He couldn’t let the hope that he would see them again do the same.
“Hey,” he said brightly, trying to distract himself, “what do you think Jimmy feels like when he’s doing all that stuff?”
“What stuff?” Georgie asked. “You mean his…” She dropped her voice and whispered, “Powers?”
“Do you think it’s like an electric shock?” Felix wondered aloud. “Or like a hot shower?”
“Oh, I would so love a hot shower,” Georgie groaned.
“He could have so much fun,” Felix went on. “I mean, you know, if people weren’t trying to kill him and everything.”
“If you ask me, his powers are useless,” said Georgie quickly. “He could be the strongest boy on Earth, but he still wouldn’t be able to change the Government.”
“He probably is the strongest boy on Earth,” Felix pointed out. “Except for Mitchell maybe. But he’s not just strong. What about everything else? Can you imagine it? He could call a bank and make his voice sound like the bank manager and tell them to pay him millions of pounds. He’s probably living in luxury somewhere. He could—”
“I don’t think banks work like that,” Georgie pointed out. “And since when could Jimmy imitate voices?”
“He can,” Felix insisted. “He told me. I bet he can fly too.”
“How are you such an idiot?” Georgie sighed, unable to hide the smile on her face.
“Natural talent,” Felix beamed. “You finishing that bagel?”
Jimmy’s programming was in control, processing the world around him by breaking it down into millions of tiny pieces of information— including the scent of every chemical in the air. He picked them apart like flavours: diesel fuel, stale bread, rotting vegetables, sweat, cats…and hundreds of other things.
He had never been able to do this before. His programming was growing, developing all the time. The realisation made him shiver. He longed to shut off his senses, almost wishing his own skull could collapse in on itself to squeeze the thoughts out of his head.
The slamming of the van doors jerked Jimmy back to reality. By the time he had come to his senses, the van was pulling away. Jimmy wanted to feel relieved. Whatever was in those crates, it was gone now and nothing to do with him.
Yet all Jimmy could hear were the doubts circling in his head. They spiralled together and grew into a thumping determination that overpowered every other emotion. Once he’d caught the scent of nitroglycerin, the assassin in him couldn’t let it go. The odour brought with it snippets of information locked in his brain. He never realised he knew anything about explosives, but now he could feel it. And the feeling was telling him that nitroglycerin was bad news.
It wasn’t used in construction or ordinary demolition. Too unstable, Jimmy heard in his head. Hard to control. There had to be a very special reason why that van’s load included nitroglycerin, and Jimmy had a strong suspicion it wasn’t to throw a fireworks party. He had to follow that van.
Making sure the other men had gone back into the station, he reached down to the bottom of the pile of crates in front of him. Supporting them was the platform used to move them around—a small wooden square on metal wheels. With a sharp jerk, Jimmy snatched it out from under the crates, which came clattering down to the tarmac. Before the noise had even started, Jimmy was already hurtling away.
When he reached the road he jumped up and threw the platform under his feet to use it like a skateboard. He landed with a bang and the small metal wheels growled on the pavement. Jimmy could see the back of the van rounding the corner. He pushed off
