Free Captive by A. J. Grainger Page B

kidnappers are willing to make a deal with you. They will release me when you release Marble. Please, Dad, release Marble so I can come home . . .”’ I stumble to
a halt. I am shaking with fear. I can’t remember the rest of the speech. An image of Addy being dragged screaming from her bed in the middle of the night or snatched on the street flashes
through my mind and I beg Feather to give me a minute to sort myself out before I finish the recording.
    I suck in the stale air of my cell and force the vision of Addy out of my head. At the moment she is at home with Dad and Mum, playing with her toys, stroke-slapping my poor cat and probably
bossing everyone around as usual. She’s safe. Now it’s up to me to make sure she stays that way.
    I don’t want Kyle Jefferies released from prison. He is a terrorist. He deserves to be locked up, so that he can never hurt anyone again. But right at this second, it isn’t his
freedom I’m asking for. It’s mine. Dad will know I don’t mean what I’m saying, and if he doesn’t, because he is too panicked at the thought of what these arseholes
might be doing to me, then his team of advisors will tell him. The Special Ops police force and MI5 will already be looking for me. It won’t take them long to find me. I just need to hang on
and to stop these people going after my sister until then. Dad often says that the end justifies the means.
Sometimes, Bobs, you’ve got to do whatever it takes to get something done. Use
any weapons available to you.
And the weapons at my disposal right now are my kidnappers’ own words. I will use them to set myself free and keep my sister safe.
    And I make a pact with myself. I am going to survive this. One day I am going to walk free from here and I am going to see my sister and my parents again. I will do whatever it takes.
    The camera light is still flashing. I look deep into its eye and I speak for Addy and for Mum and for Dad. This time my words are clear and I don’t falter. I am speaking Feather’s
sentences but with my eyes, my lips, my tears, I am saying,
I love you, Addy. I love you, Dad and Mum. I am alive and I am coming home.
    I do the whole speech in one take and when I look down, I realise that my hands are no longer shaking. I finish with, ‘“The date is the thirteenth of April and actor Maria Cartwright
died today, aged eighty-three.”’
    Feather tells me that the last sentence is to authenticate the tape. It is to mark the date and prove that I’m still alive.
    ‘Good,’ Feather says when I’m done. ‘The tears are a nice touch. Now I believe you want to go home. Now I believe you want to save your sister.’
    Scar dismantles the video equipment. I watch him from my crouched position on the bed. Have I done enough? Is Addy safe?
    By the door, Talon and Feather talk in low whispers. Talon says something about there being no mention of Jez. Feather doesn’t answer immediately. Instead she scoops up a cable at her
feet, unplugs it from the wall and begins looping it around her forearm. ‘Marble is our priority for the moment,’ she says.
    ‘But Jez is dead.’
    ‘Exactly! Nothing can hurt him right now, but Marble is in prison! How the hell do you think he’s coping with that? You know how fragile he is. As soon as we know that he’s
going to be released without charge, we’ll shift focus to Jez. You’ll get your revenge, don’t worry.’
    ‘I don’t care about revenge. I care about the truth,’ he snaps. After a pause, he says, ‘Robyn must be thirsty. I’ll get her a drink.’
    ‘Enjoying his role as nursery maid, that one,’ Scar snarls when he’s gone.
    Something about Scar’s comment must register with Feather, because she looks at me, a calculating expression on her face.
    I shift uneasily. ‘Will . . . is Addy going to be okay?’
    ‘We’ll just have to wait for the critics’ verdict on your little performance, won’t we?’ Feather replies, but she is only half listening and