Read Under Cover (Agent 21) for Free Online Page B

pretended to be eighteen and were getting actual tattoos – identical roses – on their shoulders.
    Her father thought differently.
    She hated him.
Hated
him. She knew it made her sound spoiled. She knew she lived in a posh house and went to a posh school and never really went without anything. But it was all a lie. She hated seeing her father on TV, smiling for the cameras – the Right Honourable Jacob Cole, MP, who always sounded so reasonable and who was so popular with
everyone
.
    But they didn’t know what he was really like. They didn’t see the real him.
    Izzy took a tissue from the box by her bed. She blew her nose, then winced. She lowered the tissue and looked at it. Blood. She walked across the room to her dressing table, where she looked at her face in the mirror.
    Even Izzy was surprised by what she saw. There was a cut on her upper lip where her dad had hit her. The left eye was swollen with a fat purple bruise. She stared in the mirror for a full minute before the cut started to ooze again and she had to grab another tissue to mop it up.
    When the bleeding finally stopped she moved over to the window and looked outside. Her room overlooked the front garden. There was a high wall between the garden and the street itself, but from the first floor she could see the opposite pavement. There was an elegant street lamp there, bathing the pavement in the yellow glow of its light. And leaning against the lamp post itself, a figure. He was broad-shouldered, with a heavy overcoat, a bald head with black skin. In one hand he carried a walking stick. Izzy stared at him.
    Suddenly he looked up. Izzy felt a chill as their eyes met. The man quickly averted his gaze, then looked down at the pavement and started to walk away. Izzy noticed that he had a slight limp . . .
    A moment later he was out of sight. Izzy forgot about him just as quickly. Rebellious thoughts went through her head. She would tell someone about her dad. Make everyone realize what he was really like. This wasn’t the first time he’d hit her, she would explain. He was brutal, and violent, and . . .
    Her moment of courage quickly vanished. Tell
everyone
? She couldn’t even tell her mum, who always took her dad’s side because she was even more scared of him than Izzy was. Nobody would ever believe a silly fifteen-year-old girl against the important Jacob Cole, MP. She’d be laughed at, and accused of lying.
    All she could do was clean herself up as best she could. Think up some story to explain away the marks on her face. And stay in her bedroom in case the sight of her made her dad even angrier.
    It was a nice bedroom. Tastefully decorated with comfortable furniture. But to Izzy, it sometimes felt like a prison.
    Ricky awoke suddenly. A harsh-sounding doorbell was buzzing repeatedly, and the morning sun was streaming through the windows. He looked at his watch: 9:06 a.m. Saturday morning. He’d slept right through.
    The doorbell buzzed for perhaps the sixth or seventh time.
    ‘Bet it’s Felix,’ Ricky said under his breath. He jumped off the bed, hurried to the door and, with a quick yank, pulled it open. Felix was there, his usual white paper bag of sweets in his hand and a rucksack over his shoulder.
    ‘Jelly baby?’ Felix offered, holding out the bag.
    ‘Er, bit early, actually.’
    ‘Rubbish. It’s never too early for a jelly baby. Especially the blackcurrant ones.’ He selected a purple jelly baby and popped it in his mouth. ‘Have you found it?’ he asked.
    Ricky blinked. His head was stuffy, his mouth dry. His clothes were rumpled and none too fresh. He shook his head to shake off the sleepiness. ‘Found what?’ he asked stubbornly.
    Felix smiled, then stepped over the threshold as though he owned the place.
    – Maybe he
does
own the place
.
    – He must be very rich if he does.
    Felix was a metre past the door when he stopped as if he’d hit an invisible brick wall. He screwed his face up.
    ‘What’s the matter?’