Generation Next (23 page)

It's funny; Ella is virtually echoing what my mum said earlier that day. She's right, of course, and I'm so very happy to hear her say “we.” Does this mean she's really back with the team? Back with GenNext? My mind is racing. I totally get what she's saying, but maybe there's still a way to stop the video going online without signing the deal. A way to defy the bullies
and
beat them. OK, so it's not going to be easy. It's not like I even have any kind of tangible proof that Hunter and Callum are behind the blackmail. They've been very careful—anything
threatening has come from blocked numbers, and I'm pretty sure that if I tried to trace it back to Herald Media—or to Callum—there'd be no evidence. These guys are too smooth, too clever, not to have covered their tracks. Still, there has to be another way, doesn't there? Think, Jack. There must be something we can do—some sort of advantage we have over them, some knowledge we have that they don't . . .

Suddenly the seed of an idea pops into my head. There
is
something I can do—something I've always been good at. It's risky, but if Callum and Herald Media are as seriously dodgy as I think they are, it might just work in our favor. Whatever happens, I now know one thing for sure: with the promise of Ella coming back to the team, holding on to GenNext is more vital to me than ever, despite the Harriet Rushworth debacle.

I give Ella a quick kiss, surprising her.

“OK. I've got an idea, but we need Austin, Ava and Sai to help,” I say secretively. “We need our friends.”

Ella squints at me, confused but smiling, and now I'm smiling too. If we can pull this off, there just might be a tiny glimmer of light at the end of a very long tunnel.

It takes a few long, convoluted phone calls and a tangled mess of explanations about what's been happening over the past few days, but that night Ella and I are standing outside Austin's house, ready to reunite with the team. I have to say, I'm feeling pretty emotionally raw. After we left the park, I told Ella everything: about my mum's diagnosis, the upcoming operation, the whole story. She was amazing about it, like I knew she would be. She even cried as I was telling her, and it was all I could do to stop myself from joining in. But it felt good to say it all out loud—a relief, to be honest. Then Ella suggested that I should tell the others about it too, assuring me that whatever had gone down, they were my mates and they'd want to help. I knew she was right. I owed them an explanation about acting like a basket case in LA, so I bit the bullet and sent a long message to the GenNext WhatsApp group telling them everything. Within minutes, Sai, Ava
and Austin had all fired back messages of support, and I immediately felt like a huge weight had been lifted. Sure, telling them about Mum was hard, but I'm glad that I've got it all out in the open. It's made me feel stronger, ready for what's to come—whatever that might be.

Miles greets us at the front door, tearing down the basement stairs and yelling, “It's Jack and Ella—and they're holding hands!”

It's true. As brave as Ella has been, she's still pretty scared about the prospect of the video being leaked, so she's been gripping my hand tightly on the journey over to Austin's.

As soon as we head down the stairs to HQ, a sense of relief washes over me and I realize how much I've missed being in a room with these people, with Sai, Ava, Ella and Austin. It's become such a massive part of my life over the past few months, and one I'm not ready to give up or let go of. Ava is the first to rush over, hugging Ella tightly and unleashing a torrent of girly gushing about how psyched she is to have her back, before throwing her arms around me.

“I can't believe you kept all this to yourself, Jack,” she says sternly. “You should have let us know; we could have helped, you know?”

Austin gives Ella a friendly kiss and then hugs me warmly.

“I wish you'd told me all this in LA, Jack,” he says. “I feel like I've let you down. I feel like—”

“I know, Austin, I should have told you, but there was so much going on in my head, I just wasn't thinking straight,” I say. “You haven't let me down, mate. We're all here now, all back together, and that's what counts.”

Austin breaks into a smile, then whacks the hell out of my arm.

“You always think you can handle everything yourself, J, that's your trouble.”

“He thinks he's Daniel bloody Craig,” Sai adds for good measure, which goes down well in the room, making them all laugh as Ava puts her arm around my neck.

“I can't believe that all this nightmare stuff has been happening—your mum being ill, the insane blackmail situation—and you've been dealing with it all by yourself.” She turns to Ella. “And Hunter—I mean, what the hell? It's just so awful for you, Ella—how could he do that?”

“So you guys don't think badly of me about the video?” Ella says, looking at the floor.

“Are you kidding?” Ava says. “How were you to know that bloody creep was filming you?”

“I can't get my head around the fact he actually did it,” Austin says, pulling a disgusted face.

Sai is nodding in agreement. “You've got absolutely nothing to feel ashamed of, Ella; the whole thing is sickening. And Jack, all that stuff that happened in LA is in the past. Right now, we're behind you all the way.”

“Thanks, Sai,” I say, feeling better. “It's good to be home.”

“So what about this idea of yours, Jack?” Ava jumps in. “It all sounded very mysterious on the phone. What do you need us to do?”

I glance around the room, taking in the eager faces, all waiting for me to do what I should have done days ago—take the lead.

“Look, there's no way we can just hand GenNext over to Herald. We need to play them at their own game and get creative, even if that means tearing up the rule book.”

Ava looks unconvinced. “OK, Jack, but we're talking about a multi-million-pound global corporation here. What are five teenagers—with some decent techy skills between them—realistically going to do against a company as big as that?”

I grin. “You've hit the nail on the head, Ava. That's exactly what I've been thinking . . . that we need to go right back to basics and focus on what we're good at—what's made GenNext so successful so fast. Technology. Accessing information that's difficult to find. Finding loopholes and exploiting them, if you know what I mean.”

“OK, Jack,” says Sai, crossing his arms like an X-Factor finalist. “What do you want us to do?”

I look at all four of them in turn. “Right,” I say. “Here's the plan . . .”

For the next few hours, HQ is a frenzy of activity, with Sai, Ava, Austin and Ella—and yes, even Miles—beavering away on their computers and laptops, searching for every word, every mention, every tiny morsel of Herald Media and Callum Connor they can find, anywhere on the internet. There has to be something that can help us out; give us some leverage. One thing I can be pretty certain of: this isn't the first time he's tried to screw someone over like this—it can't be. While the others continue their search, I'm on a different tack: going back to my hacking roots and hoping to God there's a way I can get into Herald Media's system. OK, it might be a long shot, but I've got to give it a go. This whole idea, this entire plan rests on me finding . . . well, finding something. Trouble is, I'm not even sure what I'm looking for.

Before any of us know it, it's after midnight and the room is still alive with the sound of tapping. But there's nothing; in fact, there's worse than nothing. Suddenly Sai jumps up out of his chair and slap his forehead.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Check this out!”

“What is it, mate?” Austin says, sliding across into Sai's chair and glaring at the screen of his laptop. “Bloody hell.”

“Spit it out, Sherlock,” Ava sighs. “What have you found?”

“A kids' charity,” Sai says, disbelieving. “Herald Media are involved in this, like, foundation that funds scholarships for young people.”

“Seriously?” I say, looking up from my own laptop, which by now is a mess of links, code and open windows.

“He's right,” Austin says. “It's called The Skyward Trust. It's been going quite a few years and it helps young people from disadvantaged backgrounds who want a career in TV or media or the arts. Not only in America, either; it's a worldwide thing.”

I'm horrified. “So instead of finding dirt, we've actually found something that makes Callum look like a bloody knight in shining armor?”

“It looks that way,” Austin says miserably.

“Anything else?” I ask, but I'm looking at a sea of shaking heads.

“I can't find anything, and I'm really good at this,” Miles says.

“Callum doesn't have much of an online presence at all,” Ella says, frowning. “All the stuff I've found about Herald is just about their naff TV shows, their awards and the company itself.”

“Not a lawsuit or an injunction in sight,” Ava says, getting up for another cup of coffee. “I'm telling you, Jack, if you can't get into their files and find something we can use, it looks like we'll have to come up with a Plan B.”

“What Plan B?” I say, trying not to sound too hopeless. “What else is there?” My brain feels tired and my
eyes are starting to sting, I've been staring at the screen for so long.

“What about if we somehow secretly record the blackmail threat when you go to meet him?” Sai suggests. “I've got these little microphones that—”

“Wear a wire, you mean, like in the American cop shows?” Ella says. “Wouldn't Callum check that sort of thing? He's been very careful so far to cover his tracks.”

I suddenly have this moment when it dawns on me how ridiculous and unreal this all is. I mean, just think about some of the words and phrases that are being bandied around right now: blackmail, wearing a wire, hacking files. How did it even come to this?

“Callum probably would check for wires, and even if we did record him, it might not stop the video going out,” I say wearily. “Look, it's an idea for if we get desperate, but we're not there yet.” My mind starts whirring again. Who can help us—who'll believe us? Suddenly a name pops into my brain. It'd be taking a massive risk . . . but at this stage, I don't know if we've got much to lose.

“Hang on,” I say. “There's someone who
might
be able to help us out. I just need to make a quick call and hope they're not asleep.”

“Very mysterious!” Ava says as I grab my phone and head up the stairs. “Good luck, Jack.”

Outside in the warm night air, I scroll for the number on my phone and hit call. When the answer comes, the voice is chirpy and upbeat.

“Well hello! And what can I do for you at this late hour, Jack Penman?”

I swallow hard and gather my nerve. “I need your help. I really need your help . . . Fran.”

“What time is it?” Ella asks for the fourth or fifth time.

We're standing outside the gated driveway of Hunter's parents' house and I can hear her breathing rapidly. She's nervous, and I don't blame her. I wish I could be more of a comfort, but in fact I'm just as scared as she is. Can you blame us? We're about to try to pull off something so risky, so dangerous . . .

“It's two fifty-five,” I say. “Do you feel OK?”

“Is it possible to feel ridiculously tired and wide awake all at the same time?” she asks.

I know exactly what she means; it's the middle of the afternoon and none of the team slept a wink last night. Fueled by about ten cups of coffee each and the determination to find something concrete we could use as leverage against Callum, we just powered right through. Then at 8 a.m., hoping my gut feeling was on the money, I called Angela Linford on her private cell phone number,
my heart thumping like crazy. I'd gone over and over it with the others and we all agreed this was the best way to engineer a meeting on our terms. It was midnight in LA, and Angela's distracted “hello” told me that my call had taken her by surprise.

“Angela, it's Jack Penman from GenNext.”

Angela ramped up into her super-cool, super-phony robot speak within seconds.

“Jack, I'm so thrilled to hear your voice. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I think you'll be pleased with what I have to say,” I said, sounding as amenable as I could manage without actually throwing up. “We've decided to accept Herald Media's offer.”

“Well, well,” she said. “I'm so pleased you came to your senses, Jack. Turning down an opportunity like this wouldn't have been such a smart move.”

“I think we both know that we don't have much choice in the matter,” I said. “So we're agreeing to the deal on one condition: that you give us a guarantee that all traces of the video of Ella disappear, and nobody ever sees or hears about it again.”

There was silence on the line for a few seconds, and in the quiet I wondered how Angela Linford could sleep at night knowing how her boss operated; knowing that he would blackmail a bunch of teenagers and threaten a young woman's future just to get what he wanted.

When she spoke again, she feigned ignorance.

“I can't imagine which video you mean, Jack. But I really am so pleased to hear that you're accepting our offer. Of course, I'll need to touch base with Tyler and with Mr. Connor, the majority shareholder of Herald, to discuss getting the paperwork signed.”

I knew she wouldn't be stupid enough to say anything incriminating over the phone, but it still made me hate her and Herald even more.

“Well that's the thing,” I said. “I have a few conditions over signing the paperwork, too.”

“Oh yes? And what might they be, Jack?” she said. Her use of my name at the end of every sentence was really starting to grate.

“I'd like everything to happen here in the UK, and I'd prefer to wrap it up as quickly as possible. I'd like a representative of Herald Media to meet with me and give me a written, legally binding guarantee that the video will never be shown to anyone and that everything's going to be cool once the deal goes through.”

Angela sighed loudly. “Jack, I have absolutely no idea what video you're talking about—and this isn't how we'd normally do things. I'm not sure you're really in a position to set out the terms, are you?”

Ah, there it was. The veiled hint of a threat.

“Look, this is the only way a deal is going to happen,” I said, “and that comes direct from Ella herself; she's with me right now.” There was silence again, and for a moment I was scared that I'd gone in too hard and Angela
wasn't going to agree to our terms. I decided to switch tactics. “Look—we're desperate, you know that, but we can't do this unless I speak to someone face to face and get a guarantee, in writing, that will protect Ella.”

There was another pause—this one seemed to go on forever—and then . . . bingo.

“OK, Jack, I can coordinate a meeting with Callum for later today. He'll bring the requisite paperwork with him and he'll expect to leave with the contracts fully signed.” Her fake bright-and-breezy tone had been replaced with something more steely, as if there was no longer any need for pretense now that we were discussing logistics and she knew the deal was in the bag. “I'll need a few hours before I can confirm the exact time. I'll get back to you on this number and let you know when I have something in place, OK?”

“OK.”

“You know, this partnership is going to be very interesting,” she said. “You could go a long way if you stay smart, Jack.”

“I'll look forward to it,” I said, almost choking on the words. And that was it; it was done. We were on.

And now here we are, outside Hunter's parents' house, Ella's finger hovering over the intercom button on the wall by the gates.

“OK,” she says. “And we're ready, right?”

I shake my head. “Not really, no.”

“That's what I thought,” she says, nodding frantically. “Are you sure we shouldn't have called AJ?”

“No way,” I say. “It would have just complicated things. He might have tried to talk us out of it, and we don't need that sort of distraction. We can worry about AJ afterward—when it's all done and dusted.”

The two of us are standing as close together as we can get as she rings the bell. When Angela called me back earlier telling me that this would be the location of the meeting with Callum, both Ella and I had to grit our teeth. Meeting Callum at the scene of Ella and Hunter's video feels like one more “screw you” from Herald, a final twist of the knife.

Still, we've come alone, which is another one of the conditions I gave Angela. The other three wanted to come with us—safety in numbers, right? But this whole thing was my idea, and if it blows up in our faces then I'm going to hold my hands up and take the blame—I don't want the others getting into grief too. Callum's a shark, not to be trusted, so it's damage control as far as I'm concerned. Ella didn't give me a choice, however, insisting she come with me. I didn't really want her here, but there was no way she was going to stay behind and let me go it alone; then when Angela said that Callum would need a minimum of two signatures from us to seal the deal, it was decided. It's me and Ella, going in to save GenNext.

By now, the adrenalin-fueled confidence of earlier feels dim and distant. We're tired and both pretty much nervous wrecks. I've chewed my thumbnail down to a stub. A voice over the intercom almost finishes me off; it's Hunter's voice, to my surprise, clipped and nervous.

“I'll open the gate; just come straight through.”

Ella and I glance at one another, then make our way through the gate as it slowly swings open and head down the drive toward the house. Before we reach the front door, I stop and turn to her.

“It's going to be all right,” I say softly. “I'm going to make it all right.”

“I know you are,” she says. She takes my hand and squeezes it.

When the front door opens, Callum is behind it, his face as unruffled as his immaculate blue suit.

“How are you, Jack?”

My knees buckle under me slightly and my mouth goes desert dry.

“I'm all right,” I say, flatly.

“Well, thank you for coming. And Ella, we haven't had the pleasure.” Callum's voice is smug and mocking, his thin lips curled into a corrupt smile. “I just happened to be back in town today; isn't that fortunate?”

He gestures for us to enter the house, where we find Hunter waiting anxiously in the hall. The minute I set eyes on him, my stomach turns over and I feel Ella freeze beside me.

“And of course you already know my nephew, Hunter,” Callum says. The nerve of this guy is off the scale.

I nod helplessly as Callum grips my shoulder like an old friend.

“Well, Jack and Ella, shall we get on with the business at hand?”

“Yeah, let's get this over and done with,” Hunter adds, fidgeting on the spot.

At that moment, Fran appears from the doorway of the lounge, smiling innocently and smoking a cigarette. Both Callum and Hunter turn to her with narrowed eyes; I can practically feel Hunter sending “get lost” vibes her way.

“Oh hey, Ella,” she says lazily. “Haven't seen you around here for a while.” She turns to me. “And I know you, don't I? You work with Ella on all that Generation Next stuff.”

“This is Jack Penman,” Hunter says irritably. “We've got some business to sort, so we're going upstairs to the private room.” He stresses the word “private.”

“OK, cool,” Fran says, holding on to the innocent look. “Just give me a shout if you need anything.”

“We'll be fine, I'm sure,” Callum says.

“Yeah, this won't take long,” Hunter adds coldly.

Clearly impatient, Callum turns on his heel and heads away from Fran, up the stairs.

“Leave any bags downstairs and hand your phones over to Hunter, please,” he snaps.

Hunter takes our phones and gestures for us to follow him, his eyes darting around uneasily as Ella and I tread up the stairs and along the hall toward the private room—that same room where my drinks were spiked and I made a fool of myself all those weeks ago. As soon as the doors have closed behind us, Ella steps toward Hunter like she's going to lunge at him—teeth gritted, eyes fiery.

“How dare you treat me like this, Hunter? How
dare
you?”

Hunter backs away from her. She's pretty scary, it has to be said. I grab her before she can do any damage.

“Let's get on with this. We just want to sign the papers and get out of here.”

“Very sensible, Jack, let's keep this civilized,” Callum says, sparking up a cigarette and blowing a satisfied stream of smoke into my face.

But Ella wasn't done.

“What kind of sicko are you, filming me like that? We've known one another since we were kids; what would your mum and dad think if they knew?”

Hunter shrugs, still staring at the floor, his mouth tightening as Ella takes it up a notch.

“Aren't you going to answer me, Hunter?” she demands. “You can't even look at me, can you?”

I'm worried she's really going to lose it any second. Crap! This wasn't part of my plan at all.

“I believe we're here for a reason,” Callum says sharply, cutting Ella off and stepping between her and
Hunter. “I'm a busy man; I haven't got time for your teenage tantrums.”

By now my hands are sweating and my breathing is shallow, but I've got to keep it together, just for a short time. I've got to hold my nerve.

Callum takes a last long drag on his cigarette, blows smoke into the air and then tosses the half-smoked butt on to the carpet, crushing it under his foot. Hunter opens his mouth to say something but clearly thinks better of it and shuts up.

“Shall we?” Callum says, before dropping the small brown briefcase he's been carrying on to the desk in front of him, flipping it open and pulling out what I assume are the contracts—emailed from LA and freshly printed. “It was smart of you to change your mind about teaming up with me, Jack. You'll be amazed at how we'll turn your little project into something global.”

“Yeah, something global that we won't own anymore,” I say, my temper simmering. “Still, we don't exactly have a choice in that, do we, Callum? We're screwed either way.”

Ella opens her mouth to lay into Hunter again, but I shoot her a stern look. We need to keep this on track or it'll all be for nothing.

“Oh come on, Jack, it's not that bad,” Callum says. “You and your little GenNext mates are all going to make a bit of money out of this; stop being so noble, before I throw up.” He takes a pen out of his top pocket and hands me a sheet of paper, already signed. “Now
here's the
assurance
you asked for. Read that first, and then sign the contract.”

I look at the piece of paper—the “assurance”—which, of course, doesn't specifically state what the content of the video actually is, just refers to it as “the contentious matter under discussion.” Callum's covering his back until the very end, of course. I might not understand all the fancy legal jargon, but this document looks well dodgy to me. It's not exactly watertight. He must think we're completely stupid. He's still talking, gesturing to the contract.

“Of course, there'll be more detailed paperwork to follow, but this preliminary agreement confirms the sum of money we agreed and my controlling interest in the GenNext website, channel and brand. Is that understood?”

Ella and I nod slowly in unison and Callum hands me the pen and one of the contracts.

“So, you two are signing on behalf of the entire team for now.”

“That's right,” I say, sitting down at the desk and flicking through the contract to the spot where I'm supposed to sign my name.