The Good-For-Nothing Society | Completed

Chapter Twenty-Two

(Elijah's POV)

Harrods is busy on a Friday afternoon. Stan, Grace and I, along with some of my other classmates, are stood on the roof of a building opposite. We're staring down, watching people go in and out.

I know that the footfall is roughly one-hundred-and-fifty people an hour. I know the quickest way in and out. I know that there are 11,540 lightbulbs attached to the outside. Yet, I don't know why we're still stood on top of this building four hours after arriving. I voice it.

"Surveillance," Stan says, "Is one of the most important parts of being a spy."

"So is actually rescuing someone," I mutter.

"You don't know she's there."

He's right. I don't. I don't care either. It's the closest I've been to her for weeks. Nothing else matters. I push off from where I've been sitting and open the comms box. I put one inside my ear. Then I turn to Stan and show him the passport I had made with Amelia's surname.

"Where..." He begins to ask, looking at it throughly. "Bexley?" He asks at the same time I say, "Bexley." We grin at each other.

Bexley is the son of one of dads old workmates. His dad used to make these kind of things for our dad. It's come full circle. It's a great passport. I also have a copy of Amelia's' dads death certificate, and my fake birth certificate citing me as his son. There's no reason for them not to let me in.

"It's time," I say. "We can't stay observing forever. Besides, I booked an appointment in half an hours time."

Stan looks like he wants to object but he doesn't. He nods and I start to make my way off the roof, down the derelict concrete stairwell and to the pavement. By the time I'm out and on the busy streets, the comms have come alive. This is my first real mission. I don't feel a single nerve or fear. My hands are steady, my pulse even. I'm ready.

I walk through the busy street slowly. I call upon all my training to allow me to blend in. I look just like everyone else. I look as if my Fridays are made for leisurely strolling. I enter Harrods. It's taken me six minutes to get here.

"You should buy stuff," Grace says through my comms. I can see her on the other side of the shop, fingering a scarf. It's no surprise she followed me straight here. "You need to sell that you're a rich mans brat, come to collect his stuff after his death."

"Just as well I swiped Stans credit card," I grin,  some of my classmates laugh in my ear. I stop and look at myself in the mirror. I've bulked up in the months since Amelia has been gone. I have funnelled all my frustrations into exercise. I barely look sixteen anymore.

"You dare use that card, Elijah." Stan growls. I chuckle.

There's a young female cashier eyeing me. I smile and her and wonder through the expensive clothes towards her. There's barely anyone in this part of the shop. I count fifteen. There's twenty security cameras and one security guard patrolling.

"Hi," The worker says as I reach her, giving me a wide smile.

"Hello," I say, smoothly. "I was wondering if you could tell me where I could retrieve a safety deposit box?"

Her eyes go a bit wide, not enough to offend someone but enough to show she's surprised. "Um,
lower ground."

"And how do I get there?" Of course, I know where they are. I know how to get there. But it would be suspicious if I barrelled through, straight towards them.