Cat's Paw (21 page)

At floor seventeen Kevin called a halt. Jeep and Antonia unfolded their sheets of paper and Ben did the same. He saw sketches like an architect’s blueprints, roughly drawn in biro without
a ruler and yet with an artist’s hand. They showed a floor plan and a side-on view (elevation, that was the word) of a tall building.

‘Can’t make it out,’ Jeep grumbled. Kevin lent him the glow of a phone.

‘Are these drawings of this tower?’ Ben whispered.

‘No, it’s Buckingham Palace, innit,’ said Antonia.

Jeep snorted. ‘So much for bringing him along.’

‘He’s useful,’ said Kevin. ‘See how he didn’t need the light?’

‘Yeah. Doesn’t that worry you?’

‘The Ferret said to bring him, so we bring him.’

Kevin told them what to do. It sounded simple enough. Simple and baffling.

‘Me and Jeep’ll do the top half. Toni, you’re with Ben. Start on the tenth floor.’

‘Why her?’ said Jeep. ‘I want to keep an eye on him.’

‘Relax. Martin already is.’

Ben hid his unease behind a cool cat’s blink.

‘Meet us in the lobby at four a.m. sharp,’ said Kevin. ‘You’ve got forty-eight minutes.’

Descending the stairs with Antonia, Ben noticed more interesting details. Shreds of gaffer tape, a toolbox on one of the landings, a tea mug with dregs still wet inside. Workmen had been here
recently.

‘I think they’re going to knock this building down,’ he whispered.

‘Says who?’

‘Says the sign outside, for one.’

‘Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t.’

He didn’t press the point. Their task was puzzling him.

‘Remind me what we’re doing?’

‘You
are
a bit dumb.’ Antonia rustled her sheet of paper. ‘We look for little round holes in the walls, count them, and mark where they are on these building
plans.’

‘And?’

Antonia shrugged.

‘He wants us to count mouse holes?’ said Ben.

‘You can argue with the Ferret. Me, I’m gonna start looking.’

She crept across the tenth floor landing to a doorless doorway. With no better ideas, Ben followed. He fingered the crater where a light switch had been and suddenly his mind teemed with images:
cosy flats, burbling tellies, cheap sofas, children’s toys on the floor. Noisy neighbours, nosey ones. Friends saying hi on the stairs that vandals had spray-painted. Twenty storeys, eighty
little worlds, each one called Home by somebody. Now the carpeted floors had been flayed to raw concrete and the wind gusted through the tower’s bones.

A search of all four flats revealed no obvious holes at all, but on the floor below they found lots. It was as if sections of wall had been nibbled by giant woodworm, their jaws an inch wide.
These woodworm could count, too, for nearly all the holes came in sets of three. They seemed to prefer the taste of the outside walls and the stout columns near the stairwell, for the thinner
partitions between the rooms had few holes or none. Antonia took her pencil and circled zones on the building plans.

‘Two hundred and thirty-three holes on this floor,’ she said.

The eighth floor was another barren one. Ben grew restless.

‘We’ve got twenty minutes left. We should take a floor each.’

Antonia stiffened. ‘Dunno about that.’

‘You’ll be all right,’ said Ben. ‘This place is empty.’

‘I ain’t scared, idiot!’ When the echo had died she whispered, ‘Go on, then. You do six. But if I shout you better come running.’

Ben took off down the stairs. All he really wanted was space to think. A quick survey of the sixth floor revealed no holes here either. The fourth, however, was riddled with them. Why? Were they
to weaken the building so that cranes could bash it to bits? Now he thought of it, Thomas had mentioned drilling holes. But in a tunnel, not a tower block…

A faint sound needled him. Like a rat squeaking, only regular, insistent. It was coming from the farthest flat on this floor. He stalked across the landing and peeped through the doorway. Two
eyes in a dark face widened in fright.

‘Antonia? You made me jump –’ Wait. That wasn’t Antonia. This person was shorter. And a boy. Ben gasped.

‘
Daniel?
’

‘Ben! In here.’

Ben bit his tongue before he swore the place down. He followed Daniel through a stripped hallway and noticed something silver in his fist.

‘You were blowing Tiffany’s dog whistle!’

‘Cat whistle,’ Daniel grinned. ‘Come on. We know you haven’t got much time.’

‘We?’

‘He means me,’ said a familiar voice. Ben rushed into the largest room.

‘Evening, Mr Gallagher.’ Geoff was squatting in the Sitting Cat pose, smiling beneath his white war-paint.

With an effort Ben managed not to hug him. His voice quavered. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘And you.’

Cecile, huddled beneath the empty window, waved.

‘How did you know I’d be here?’ asked Ben.

‘Did you think you were on your own?’ said Geoff. ‘You were never alone. Ever since you got yourself captured, I’ve been making sure you were safe.’

‘You followed me?’

‘Not exactly. I tracked you. With the Oshtian Compass.’

‘I– I thought you couldn’t use that on me.’

‘I couldn’t before.’ Geoff beckoned him to sit at his side. ‘Relax. You’ve earned it. Yes, my Oshtian Compass can lock on to you now. I’ve known you long
enough and, well. I like you. You’re a great kid. Sort of remind me of me, when I was young. And I’m not such a bad bloke, am I?’

‘Course not.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Geoff. ‘It doesn’t mean we’re engaged or anything.’

Ben laughed through his nose to stay quiet. ‘So you didn’t need Tiffany’s help this time.’

‘No. Luckily.’

Ben heard the arch note in his voice.

‘She’s gone somewhere, hasn’t she?’

‘Mm-hm.’ Geoff nodded. ‘And taken Yusuf and Susie with her. Don’t suppose she told you where?’

‘She might be trying to find Mrs Powell.’

‘Thought so. All that badgering me about the Compass. I should have put my foot down.’

‘Because we need her here?’

‘Yes. And because she’s wasting her time,’ said Geoff. ‘To reach someone across great distance, you need to be close to them. Really close. If I couldn’t find
Felicity – me, her lifelong friend – how could Tiffany expect to? She knew her, what, six months? Arrogant kid.’

‘She only wanted to get help,’ ventured Cecile.

‘No doubt,’ said Geoff. ‘She thinks I’m not up to the job. Well, I know a man who is.’

Ben felt the weight of Geoff’s hand on his shoulder. It was suddenly hard to speak.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Geoff.

‘You came to ask me what I’ve found out.’

‘And to check you’re okay,’ said Cecile.

‘I haven’t found out anything.’ Ben stared at the floor. ‘I can’t. I’ve tried.’

‘You’re scared,’ said Geoff. ‘I know. You’ve done more than I had any right to ask. Please forgive me. I made you my cat’s paw.’

‘Cat’s paw?’

‘Tool, it means,’ said Geoff. ‘Agent. Someone who does my dirty work for me. Etcetera. I never really thought you’d go through with it. You’ve done me
proud.’

‘Even though I can’t tell you anything useful?’

‘Oh, you’ve told me quite a bit by leading me here.’

‘I wish I knew what.’

‘They’re going to blow this tower up. Not tonight,’ Geoff added, seeing Daniel’s expression. ‘This coming Sunday. Crowds will gather to watch it fall down. Now you
tell me. Why does a mad ferret-man visit a place like this?’

‘He told us to find the holes in the walls.’

Geoff nodded. ‘Those holes are where the demolition crew will pack the explosives. Someone wants to know where they are in advance.’

‘Fisher’s going to steal the dynamite–!’ A hand clamped over Daniel’s mouth.

‘I think the folks down in Chelsea didn’t hear that.’ Geoff cautiously let Daniel go. ‘Yeah. Sherlock here is right. Soon each of those holes will have a small charge
inside it. If you dug out all those little bits and put them together,’ he paused, ‘you’d have one big bomb.’

Ben’s flesh crawled. ‘Why would Fisher need a bomb?’

‘Good point,’ said Geoff. ‘He’s mad, and a killer, but a terrorist? Hardly. We’re missing something.’

‘The police can find that out,’ said Cecile. ‘Or whoever it is we report terrorists to.’

‘Send the plods after Fisher?’ said Geoff. ‘That’s like trying to swat a flea with a cricket bat. He’d disappear before they got near him, and I’d lose him
all over again. No, we bide our time, keep watching, and stay under his radar.’

‘We ain’t letting him build a bomb, Geoff!’

‘No, Cecile, we ain’t.’ Geoff made a calm-down gesture. ‘Keep your fur on. If he is coming back for the dynamite, he’ll have to wait till it’s in place. Which
won’t be till Saturday at the earliest.’

‘How do you know all this cool stuff?’ asked Daniel.

‘I was a soldier of misfortune,’ said Geoff.

‘Huh?’

‘Spent a year in the army,’ Geoff explained. ‘One of those daft things. I was pretty messed up in my head after I lost touch with Felicity. Still, I learned a fair
bit–’ He broke off. ‘Hear that?’

Silence set in, till Geoff broke it again.

‘Maybe nothing.’

Daniel hugged himself. ‘I ought to get home. Before my mum finds out the lump in my bed isn’t me.’ Cecile nodded fervently. Ben felt a thought creeping up on him, half-formed.
Maybe his spying hadn’t been a total waste.

‘Geoff,’ he murmured. ‘You said we might be missing something? Well, there are these two kids at the Hermitage. They were doing a job for Fisher. Using a drill. They mentioned
Embankment station –’

‘Hush.’ Geoff turned his head so sharply it blurred. ‘Ben?’

‘Yes?’

‘How many polecats came in with you?’

‘Three. But I don’t know where–’

‘Keep still, all of you. Do not move.’

Two gleams vanished as Geoff’s eyes closed.

‘Four sets of footsteps,’ he whispered. ‘He’s here.’ The smell that Ben had been trying to ignore came to choke him. A musty reek.

‘Who?’ mouthed Cecile.

Ben was gagging. ‘Can’t you smell it?’

‘No,’ said Daniel.

‘That’s him,’ said Geoff. ‘He’s close. Below us.’

Seeming to float on all fours he stole into the apartment’s hallway. Ben followed just as stealthily, wincing at the noise his friends made behind him. Nearing the threshold that would
have been the front door, Geoff made a fierce gesture: zipping his mouth shut. Ben sank to his belly on the dusty concrete to peer through the crook of Geoff’s arm. At the stairwell’s
elbow a wiry spectre paused, then spidered into the apartment across the landing.

Daniel poked him in the back. He wanted a better view. Ben gave him a glare to curdle milk.

Fisher was hunting them. The knowledge settled on Ben like six feet of earth. He could smell Fisher, so Fisher would certainly smell him. Geoff had said that the young Martin Fisher could sniff
out a coin in a dark room. Nor was that the worst of it. If he had tracked Ben to this floor, he might detect another familiar scent.

Geoff must have shared his fears.

‘On my signal, go for the stairs.’ His whisper barely stirred the air. ‘So long as he’s looking in the other flats–’ He clammed up as the tall shape
reappeared in a doorway.

They were trapped. What now? Would they have to fight their way out? It was four against one. One of their four was Geoff White. Then Ben remembered the other polecats. If they appeared it would
be four on four. In his mind he squared up Daniel against the likes of Jeep. That was not happening.

Fisher roved the landing, sniffing the air. Ben felt a nudge and saw Geoff drawing in the dust with his thumb. Letters and symbols appeared like an equation:

IF I
MF = U RUN

Ben solved it and his stomach clenched.
If I attack Martin Fisher then you run.
He watched as Geoff traced beside it: OK?

Geoff would cover their escape. He would battle Fisher so that they could get away. Well, Daniel and Cecile could. Ben wasn’t clear what he was meant to do. Return to Kevin and hope to
maintain his cover? Slink away and go back home to Dad or Mum? Both these options boiled down to one thing: leaving Geoff, deserting him, abandoning him here.

Fisher made a strangled whining noise. Geoff tapped the floor-marks impatiently.
OK?

Ben nodded, sick inside. This could end only one way. Fisher had learned mustel-id at Geoff’s own hands. He was younger, bigger, stronger than Geoff. He burned inside with murderous hate,
and he hated the White Cat worst of all. Ben stole a glance at his teacher’s face, shiny with sweat, wondering if he would see it again.

I’m not such a bad bloke, am I?

No. Not at all.

You’re a great kid. You remind me of me, when I was young.

Except that Geoff would have stayed to fight by his master’s side. Ben was convinced of that. Part of him wished for the courage to stay, while a darker part, the scaredy-cat, whispered
that it would do no good, that he would only get in the way and die for nothing. Any moment now Fisher would be upon them. He would see Geoff and Geoff would have to attack. But what if–?