Read Online Stitch-Up by Sophie Hamilton - Free Book Online Page B

on down the road, the dark expanse of Battersea Park stretching out to our right. We’d only gone about fifty paces when Latif whispered, “You ready?”
    And before I could ask for what, he’d picked me up bythe waist, as if we were ballroom dancing partners, and had lifted me up over the railings. I landed in a heap on a muddy patch of ground. As I scrambled to my feet Latif took a short run-up, clasped hold of the black spikes at the top of the railings, and vaulted over in one seamless movement, smooth and easy as a free runner.
    â€œWe’ll jam here for now. Until the fed action simmers down.” He set off into the darkness at a lope.
    I scooted after him, heart thumping. We ran down through a wooded area, skirted the lake and then, keeping to the shady edges of moonlit lawns we headed toward the river. Daffodils starred the grass. All around shadows raced and shivered, whispered and rustled. I felt like they were ganging up on me. Suddenly Latif stopped and inclined his head; he appeared to be listening. After a few seconds, he said, “They’re sending in the helis.” A frown knitted his brow. “That’s hardcore. Believe it.”
    â€œAre they after you?” I pushed the pollution mask up onto my head so I could breathe more easily. But he was already on the move so I didn’t catch his answer.
    The darkness closed in around me – squeezed me. Running for my life now, scenes from lost-in-the-wood horror films came floating back to me, transforming every sound, every shadow into something else, something scary. Twigs snapped under foot like rifle fire. Shadows stalked me. Up ahead, a gold sphere gleamed. Momentarily confused, I wondered if the moon had fallen from the sky. I blinked and saw a great gold Buddha.
    The helicopter’s clatter was closer now.
    Latif shouted over his shoulder for me to run faster.
    But I couldn’t force my aching body to move up a gear, and the stiff overalls weren’t helping either.
    When we reached the Peace Pagoda, Latif raced up the steps towards the gleaming Buddha. From what I could remember from my rare visits to Battersea Park, there were four Buddhas in total, looking to the north, south, east and west. Thirteen steps later, I found myself standing on the pagoda’s walkway gasping for breath, watching Latif vault up onto the Buddha’s platform with ease.
    â€œCome now!” He was stretching his arms down towards me. Clasping hold of his hands, I walked my feet up the slippery white side. Seconds later, I was standing next to him – all exposed, as if on a stage.
    The Buddha was sitting cross-legged on a lotus flower, a golden leaf stretched up behind him. His face was kind and peaceful, and he was making a symbol with his fingers. I prayed it was a hopeful message, one that would keep us safe…
    Downriver, helicopter lights strafed the sky.
    A flock of frightened birds flew out of the park, silhouetted against the moon.
    â€œOver here, Dash!” Latif whispered, slotting himself into a hidden space behind the Buddha. The gleaming lotus leaf gave him good cover. Without wasting a second, I scrambled onto the platform, touching the Buddha’s arm for luck, before squeezing in beside Latif.
    There was barely room for two.
    â€œSqueezy, huh?” Latif whispered.
    I gave him a searching look. He appeared totally unfazed.
    A moment later, an engine’s roar eclipsed the helicopter’s metallic whir, and, peeping out, I saw a motorbike tearing along the river walkway. It was one of those low-slung bikes, which Hell’s Angels ride – a Harley.
    â€œWhat’s he doing here?” Latif muttered.
    But before I could ask who exactly ‘he’ was, the bike’s headlamp was shining straight at our Buddha. For a couple of moments the Buddha blazed gold. I shrank back into our hidden space, heart thumping. Five parakeets shot out from under the pagoda’s rafters, exploding