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of his mum’s head. She was sitting on the sofa in her dressing gown. But she wasn’t alone. To Jimmy’s surprise, Christopher Viggo was in the corner of the room, gripping the neck of an open champagne bottle in his fist.

      “I told you,” said Jimmy’s mum, the frustration in her voice obvious, “you don’t need to wait with me.”

      “I saw the light was on and I was worried,” Viggo replied. “That’s all.” His voice was deep, but slightly hoarse.

      “You’ve been making too many speeches,” replied Helen Coates. She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, and Jimmy could see her head subtly following the movement of the champagne bottle. “You should rest your voice.”

      “Don’t worry. It’s nearly over.” Viggo ran a hand across his stubbled chin and pushed some stray strands of hair behind his ear. “Or it’s just beginning, depending on how you look at it.” There was a glint in his eye, a brown twinkle in the soft lighting. He stood fully upright, a tall man dominating the small space. The lack of any furniture apart from the sofa made him seem even more imposing. His lips were set in a flat smile.

      “You need some sleep,” said Helen, pulling her dressing gown around her against the cool of the air-conditioning. “No point working through the night when you need to look fresh for tomorrow.”

      “You need sleep too,” he said softly. “Is Saffron in bed?” His eyes flicked across the room, sending a shiver through Jimmy, but he was confident he couldn’t be seen.

      Jimmy quickly glanced up the corridor towards the room that Viggo shared with Saffron Walden, his girlfriend. The door was closed, with no light coming through the cracks.

      “What are they saying?” Felix whispered suddenly. “I can’t hear them.”

      Jimmy reluctantly shuffled over slightly to give his friend a view through the door crack. Meanwhile, Georgie was less and less interested.

      “This is stupid,” she whispered. “I’m going to bed. Tell me what happened in the morning.”

      Just as she turned towards her bedroom, Jimmy reached out and caught her arm, then pulled her towards him until his mouth was right by her ear.

      “Thanks for coming after me,” he said softly.

      Georgie simply nodded and threw a smile back up the corridor as she walked away. The voice of Jimmy’s mother pulled him back to the crack in the living-room door.

      “Either get back to work or go to bed,” Helen said to Viggo. “The kids will be here soon.”

      “How do you know?” Viggo was confused. “Where have they been? It’s the small hours of the morning!”

      “Do you care?” Helen snapped, suddenly fixing Viggo with a stare. All Viggo could do was hold up his hands in defence, letting the champagne bottle swing from his fingertips. “I checked with the guards,” Helen went on. “The three of them left a couple of hours ago. There was nobody with them. Now put that bottle down. You look ridiculous.”

      “Celebrate with me,” Viggo said, almost pleading.

      “You haven’t won the election yet.”

      “But I will.” He smiled and every tooth seemed to gleam as brightly as his eyes.

      “So what is there to celebrate tonight?” Helen stood up slowly and stepped towards Viggo. “The fact that we hardly speak to each other any more?”

      “Stop this.” Viggo changed his tone, sounding more gentle than triumphant. He put the bottle on the floor and took Jimmy’s mother by her wrists. “We’re making history. I’m going to change the way this country is run. I know you want the same thing! So all this…” He hesitated and brought Helen’s hands together in his. “…it’s all going to be worth it.”

      Helen Coates turned away and for the first time Jimmy could see the emotion weighing heavy on her face. Her short brown hair cast a net of shadows that seemed to accentuate the worry lines round her eyes.

      “It seems like you’re worth quite a lot,” she whispered. “To somebody.”

      “What do you mean?” Viggo asked, letting her go and stepping back.

      “This building,” Helen explained. “All the staff downstairs. Your whole campaign. How much has it all cost? Even that.” She flicked a hand at the champagne bottle as if she wanted it to topple over. “How did you get hold of real French champagne? That’s almost impossible the way things are. Who’s providing all of this? Where’s the money coming from, Chris?”

      Viggo turned his back on her and stared out of the window.

      “It doesn’t matter how many times you ask me,” he grumbled, “I’m keeping my promise. I’ll tell you – of course I will. But not until I’ve won the election.”

      “Why?” Helen raised her voice. “You’re driving everybody crazy! You have to trust us!”

      “I do trust you.” Viggo’s voice was so low Jimmy could barely make out the words. “But it’s…”

      “What? What is it? Dangerous?” Helen sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “Are you ashamed of it? Money that you’re ashamed of isn’t worth having, Chris.”

      “Even if it means I can make the changes we’ve all hoped for? If I don’t win this election tomorrow, NJ7 will be more powerful than ever. The Government will never let anybody vote again. They’ll lock up or kill anybody that speaks out against them and the whole of Britain will be like one giant prison! Tomorrow is everything, Helen.” He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes, desperate to get his message across. “We might never have a second chance to bring down this Government peacefully. And if that takes money then I don’t care where the money comes from, I’m going to use it.”

      Jimmy pressed his face closer against the crack in the door. Felix was crouching below him doing the same. In the last few months they’d talked many times about where all the money had come from to fund Viggo’s campaign. Jimmy had even tried to ask Viggo about it, but Viggo always seemed distracted at just the wrong moment. Jimmy and Viggo had hardly had a proper conversation for months. It didn’t sound like his mum was having any more luck.

      “I didn’t come up here to argue,” Viggo said gently. He started towards the door, so Jimmy jumped to one side, dragging Felix with him.

      “We’re finished now, Jimmy,” Helen called out. “You can come in. You too, Felix.”

      Jimmy and Felix looked at each other, the deep shadows not enough to hide the shock on their faces. That moment, Viggo charged out into the corridor. He turned towards the lifts without even glancing at Jimmy and Felix.

      “She’s waiting for you,” he grunted, before disappearing into the lift.

      Jimmy and Felix edged into the living room.

      “How did you…?” Jimmy gasped.

      “Don’t be surprised,” his mother replied. “I was trained by NJ7 once too. And even though you were so quiet out there…”

      Jimmy dropped his head, embarrassed at the obvious sarcasm in his mum’s voice.

      “Sorry, Mum, we…” Jimmy’s voice trailed off.

      “We’ll talk about it in the morning,” said his mum.

      Jimmy felt so stupid, and wished his programming could give him some way of dealing with the situation. His hands automatically went deep into his pockets. So far, his fingers were the most obvious sign of his poisoning, and he’d grown used to hiding them. This time, however, he was more aware of them than usual. His friends had found out his secret and there was a part of him that felt relieved. Was this the moment to explain everything to his mum? He wasn’t sure how he could do it. He wasn’t even sure of the facts himself – at times he felt fine, but at times he was convinced he was getting worse and it terrified

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