Free London Escape by Cacey Hopper Page A

sudden memory floods my mind, Jason trying to teach me to change the tire on my car one afternoon. Instantly I see an image of him removing the spare tire from a hatch in the trunk. I feel around the inside of the trunk with my fingers until I find the edges of the carpeting and give it a tug. Underneath, in the empty space where a spare tire would normally be kept, I spot a small, rectangular object. Feeling triumphant, I pull out the package and stuff it into my backpack without a second thought. I replace the carpet, the tools and lock the car back, pocketing the keys. I hurry off without a backward glance.
    Seconds later I’m climbing onto the hood, then the roof of a car by the fence. This time I barely hesitate as I jump, my fingers grasp the edge of the fence and it’s a little more work to haul myself over this time. Peter is waiting on the other side to help me down. When my shoes are back on the concrete I allow myself a huge sigh of relief.
    When I look up at Peter he’s observing me calmly. “Success?”
    I nod, because I’m too breathless to speak, and follow him out of the alleyway. He begins to amble down the sidewalk, casually blending in with the other people. It takes six blocks before my pulse returns to a normal rate and even when it does I’m still having a hard time processing the events of the past few hours. I’m amazed that I’ve somehow found an ally in a complete stranger, basically broken into an impound lot and managed to get my hands on something that Jason had hidden pretty well. I feel more than a little proud of what I have already accomplished since arriving in London. I don’t even pause to wonder what might be in the package. Right now I know without a doubt it is exactly what I was meant to find.
    “Will you be staying at your friend’s place tonight?” Peter asks suddenly. We’re now in a very busy downtown area I don’t recognize.
    I think of Jason’s apartment, probably not the safest place to be tonight. Considering V’s men had been there once, they could be back. “No, I can’t stay there.”
    He looks at me curiously, but nods. “Right.”
    He doesn’t speak again until we’ve traveled several more blocks. My legs are beginning to feel weak and I’ve once again lost all track of time, but I think it’s somewhere around eight or nine o’ clock. When he stops I look up and realize we’re standing outside a hotel. Unsure of what to say or do I just stand there.
    “Well, good night Kit, and good luck.” He nods and is gone.
    Two minutes later I’m still standing there wondering who he was and why he was wishing me good luck.

5. PROXIMA
     
    U sing my dad’s credit card I get a room for the night. The hotel is nice, nothing too fancy.  Besides, all I want right now is a bed and a shower, and to hopefully keep the charges on my dad’s card as low as possible. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, and possibly not ground me for a decade. Although once he finds out what I’ve done—and I’m sure he will—the chances of him going easy on me are pretty slim. But that’s the last thing on my mind tonight.
     There are so many questions racing through my head right now I can hardly think straight. All I want to do is get to my room and try to figure this all out. The first thing I do once I’m inside is deadbolt the door behind me and slide the useless little chain thing in, just for peace of mind. Throwing my backpack onto the bed I rummage through the contents until I find the package from the car. I find I’m holding my breath now, hoping and praying it’s something that will make sense. Possibly something that could tell me where Jason is.
    My initial reaction to the contents of the package is not favorable. The first item is a small, red, hardbound book. The second item is a little more interesting, though hardly helpful. It is the framed photograph I had given Jason the night he left. I stare at both items for a long time wondering what they mean. I pick