Knife Edge (Work In Progress)

(O) one. Jude

"Oh, come on, Jude my feet are killing me," Morgan moaned.
"Tough!" I said from one if the two single beds in our hotel room. "And keep watching out the window. We don't want any surprises."
"I've been watching the traffic for the last three hours."
"And you've got an hour to go, so shut up complaining." I ordered. He was getting on my nerves and no mistake.
Morgan sighed and moved the dark-brown curtain slightly so he could continue to look past it to the street below. He took another swig of his can of larger, which had to be lewkwarm by now - he'd been holding it for the last hours at least. I scowled at his back before turning my attention to the remote control in my hand and the telly in front of me. Five minutes of flicking later, I hadn't found a single thing worth watching. So much for that then. There was bigger all of any use on, so I plumped for some insane soap which required minimum brain power to follow. Which was just as well, because my mind, as always, was on other things.
Like Andrew Corn
He was my immediate priority now. He was the General's second-in-command, but if the information we'd been given was correct - and each passing hour convinced me that it was - he was also a traitor. It was  thanks to him that our kidnap of Sephy Hadley had gone so spectacularly wrong. Thanks to his betrayal of us. every member of my assigned Liberation Militia cell had been killed or captured - all except Morgan and me. The General didn't know it but Andrew Dorn was working hand-in-hand with the Cross authorities, particularly  with Kamal hadley, the Cross MP who loathed us noughts and everything we stood for. That's why we'd decided to kid-nap his daughter, Sephy. Not just as a political statement, but to hit Kamal Hadley where it'd really hurt. But the whole operation had gone pear-shaped.

Thanks to Andrew Dorn.

And I had no idea where he was or how to get to him. The thought of a man like that so high up on the Liberation Militia ladder - well, it made my stomach turn over. How many others had he betrayed? How many other men and women had worn a tie of rope all thanks to him? How I yearned to get a hold of him. I wouldn't need long. Three seconds with Mr Dorn would be more than enough for what I had in mind. We in the L.M. needed to do something, anything to put the heart back into our organization. Since my brother Callum's death nothing had gone right. The police had cracked down on us hard and offered huge cash rewards to anyone  giving them information witch would lead to the capture and conviction of any one of us. The media called us ruthless terrorists. We're not. We're just fighting for what's right. Being born a nought shouldn't automatically slam shut myraid doors before you've even drawn your first breath