Dark Tomorrow (Bo Blackman Book 6) by Helen Harper Page A

quiet. ‘Do you have a key?’ I whisper.
    Rogu3 nods. We steal back to the front door and, with the merest clank as it turns in the lock, he opens up. Before he can step into the porch, I bar his way with my arm. ‘Bo,’ he hisses. ‘It’s fine. No one’s here. No one’s after me.’
    I don’t remind him that the last time I was here it was because X himself was hanging around in the street outside. Or that there might be any number of surviving Tov V’ra members who realise Rogu3 double-crossed them and have come looking for vengeance. I just wait, cocking my ear and listening. There’s the faint rumble of a snore from upstairs. I exhale silently and pad forward, gesturing to Maria and Rogu3 to follow.
    The interior of the house is as I remember it. I’ve never been up to Rogu3’s room before but I have a good idea where it is. I place a foot on the first step, then the second. A heartbeat later, Rogu3 grabs my arm and squeezes it hard. I glance back at him in alarm. He points down at the third step and I understand: squeaky floorboards. I nod and skip up to the fourth step. The snoring continues.
    At the top of the staircase, it’s obvious which way to turn. To the right, there’s a closed door emblazoned with a huge sign written in binary. Underneath are the words: ‘This means keep out!!!’ I throw Rogu3 a look and he shrugs, the tips of his ears turning pink.
    Maria is enchanted. She beams at him. ‘Very cute,’ she mouths.
    His eyebrows snap together in a glower. He sniffs and pushes past, opening the door and beckoning us inside.
    If I expect the room to smell like teenage boy, I’m sorely mistaken. Rogu3’s mum obviously takes cleaning seriously. There’s been a considerable amount of air freshener dispensed within these four walls. There’s a bunk bed, with neatly laundered sheets, a desk stacked high with computer manuals, school books and a few photos, and a large wardrobe. There’s also a life-size poster of some Z-list celebrity wearing very little clothing. Rogu3’s ears go from pink to flaming red.
    ‘She very cold,’ Maria remarks, with a raised eyebrow. ‘Her … nipples? They…’
    Rogu3 coughs. I press my lips together hard.
    ‘Let’s just get what we came here for,’ he says furiously.
    He opens the wardrobe, heaving out a pile of clothing to reveal an expensive-looking safe. Even Dire Straits didn’t boast a model as up-to-date as this one. I knew that Rogu3 made a lot of money out of his hacking ventures, but enough to need this security? Maria and I watch as he bends down and presses the pad of his thumb to open it. It’s not quite as secure as the MI7 warehouse but it’s not far off; no wonder MI7 offered him a damn job. He reaches inside, pulls out some manila envelopes and stuffs them into an empty bag. Then he carefully closes the safe and stands up.
    ‘Done?’ I ask. He nods. ‘Do you want to see your parents?’ It’s a serious question. Now that he’s with me and my world has exploded into the mess it’s in, there’s no telling when he’ll get a chance to see them again. We could wake them up. Quietly.
    ‘My mum will only freak and try to get me to stay. And my dad…’ His voice trails off. Yeah, his dad will probably try to punch my nose for landing his son in such shit yet again. ‘I’ll leave them a note.’
    He opens a drawer and scrabbles for a pen and a scrap of paper. As he starts to scribble a few words, Maria gasps. I turn to her. Her face is almost pure white and her eyes are fixed on one of Rogu3’s photos.
    ‘Maria?’ I ask.
    She doesn’t answer. I follow her frozen gaze to an old photo in a small wooden frame. I scoop it up, my blood chilling as I examine it. ‘This?’ I ask.
    Maria doesn’t move. Her eyes dart to Rogu3 who, sensing that something is amiss, slowly turns. He looks from her to the photo and back again. I can hear my heart thudding against my ribcage. Rogu3’s a lot younger in this photo. I know for a fact that it