Storm and Stone (29 page)

‘I completely agree with you, Miss Stone. I’ll apologize to my boys when I’ve got them back safe and sound—and after Kieran explains why he disobeyed his orders concerning you.’

‘What orders?’

‘You’re not supposed to be part of this. He’s in deep trouble for that. I hope we will find him OK so I can haul him before a disciplinary board and tell him that.’

‘Good luck telling Kieran anything he doesn’t want to hear. He’s got a wide streak of stubborn.’

‘Noticed, have you? Here we are.’ Isaac stopped by the wall topped with barbed wire. ‘I’ll go first then pull you up.’

She watched as he scaled the wall and snipped the wire with cutters. He was scarily prepared, which made her question just what kind of organization he represented. Government? Military? He had to be one of the good guys, didn’t he?

‘Ready?’ Isaac held out his hand.

She took a run and leapt, catching him around the wrist. He used her momentum to pull her up. They both then jumped down, landing catlike on the woodland floor below.

‘Very good,’ he murmured. ‘Now keep low and follow me. No sound sensors but nearer the building, no talking. If you need to stop, just tug the back of my jacket. Ready?’

Raven found it odd how easily she fell into his plan. He had a manner to him that instilled confidence, like a good platoon leader. You didn’t have to like him; you just had to follow. ‘Lead the way.’

Kieran woke with a start in a completely dark space. Where was he? The memory trickled back—he had finally been allowed back to his bedroom at the manor, despite not giving an inch on any of the demands they had made of him. There were blackout curtains at the window and they had been pulled ever since he had been brought back to his bed. Deprived of sunlight, he had no way of telling how much time had passed. Groggily, he stumbled to his feet and groped his way to the bathroom. His personal effects had been taken, so he couldn’t even brush his teeth. He settled for splashing water on his face.

The door opened and Namrata came in with the two enforcers. There had to be an infrared camera somewhere in the room, or a motion sensor. He never got more than a few seconds to himself.

‘Feeling better, Kieran?’

He rubbed his face in the towel, saying nothing.

‘If you are feeling more alert, perhaps you’d like to explain this?’ She held up the drug testing kit that had been in his wash bag.

He ignored her, pulling on a clean T-shirt, the same one he had lent Raven and was now his favourite. He liked to think the fabric still kept a little of her scent, a kind of force field against the bad guys. He could guess where the questions were leading—to another round of personality reform.

‘You see, finding this made us wonder if you came here in good faith. Frankly, we have been very disappointed with you so far. You’ve not shown any sign of improvement or willingness to listen to what we have to offer. Instead, you have been suspicious from the start. Why did you feel the need to test what we were giving you?’

A good question. Where to start? Because they were a bunch of sadists? Yeah, that’s what he’d start with if he was going to reply, which he wasn’t.

‘Everything we are giving you is there to help you. With your stubbornness, you are showing no loyalty to your friends, your school or even the wishes of your guardian.’

But Isaac would be proud of him. Encouraged by that thought, Kieran walked towards the window. They were on the third floor but he might be able to pull the blackout curtains down at least and see what time of day it was.

‘Please keep away from the window, Kieran. You have not earned the right to look out.’

He turned. ‘And when since did looking out of a window constitute a privilege?’

‘Since I said.’

Heath entered the room. ‘How’s he doing?’

‘Intractable,’ she said succinctly.

‘Did he explain the kit?’

‘Not yet.’

‘I like chemistry. Never go anywhere without it.’ Kieran glanced round the room for a weapon. His head was clearing. They hadn’t given him an injection for a while. He might not get a better chance.

‘What’s your recommendation, Namrata?’ asked Heath.

‘You know, I really don’t think we’re going to make any headway with this one. I fear we’re wasting our time.’

Kieran decided the bedside light had a fairly hefty base. It could take out one of the enforcers if his throwing arm wasn’t out. The other might be blinded by the potpourri—it looked gritty and dusty.

‘Shall we put him with the other two?’

Kieran’s hand stopped moving towards the lamp. This might be a chance to find the missing students. He had begun to fear the two kids might have been taken out of the country, or worse, but it sounded like they were here somewhere.

‘Yes, I think so. Let us see if together they can make the right decision.’

‘You could just wash your hands of us. Let us go.’ Kieran straightened up. ‘Their parents and my godfather will want to see us. You can’t keep us hidden permanently.’

‘We have no intention of doing that.’ Heath gestured to the enforcers. ‘Take this boy to join our guests in the basement.’

‘Why don’t you just call it a cell?’

Heath ignored his comment. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t help you, Kieran. Our methods rarely fail and I apologize that we let you down.’

Kieran would have found Heath’s version of what was happening here fascinating if he had the luxury to reflect on it in safety. Taking careful note of escape routes, he let the two men escort him downstairs.

Isaac led Raven without any hesitation through the woodland, across the nine-hole golf course, right up to the windows of one wing of the manor. She fell into step with him, learning to duck when he did, step around hazards, or slide under fences. They approached the house itself by going down on their stomachs and wriggling through the shrubbery. The last time she had seen this kind of manoeuvre it had been army recruits under cargo netting, so she was veering towards thinking his organization was military. They took people at seventeen, didn’t they, so that made sense. The jarring note was that she didn’t see Kieran attracted to a life in khaki. At the edge of the flower bed, Isaac motioned her to come up alongside him. The curtains were open and they could see a cleaner vacuuming the library while a woman placed flower arrangements on the tables between the sofas and armchairs. No sign of panic. No hint that anything out of the ordinary was happening inside.

Raven tapped Isaac on the shoulder, eager to move on. He held up a hand, a ‘just wait’ signal. His patience was rewarded when two dark-suited men walked in and took seats in the chairs either side of the fire. A waiter came in and put two beers on the side tables and left, beckoning the cleaner to follow him. The men kicked back and relaxed, taking swigs straight from the bottles. Who were they? They looked like club bouncers, not participants in a training course. Then one took off his jacket, revealing a shoulder holster for a gun. So that answered that question. They were looking at the security detail. But weren’t there all sorts of permits needed for that kind of thing in England? Since leaving America, Raven had rarely seen an armed man, so why here in the middle of the countryside where the only threatening things were the occasional bull in a field or an over-enthusiastic farm dog?

Having seen enough from this angle, Isaac beckoned her to follow him. He slipped back deeper into the bushes and headed for the far end of the manor to the kitchen entrance. Once on the other side of the shrubs, he got back on his feet and started running. Raven had to work hard, her shorter legs making it difficult to keep up, but she had the feeling he would leave her behind if he felt she were a weak link. His next stopping place was between two huge bins. The cloying smell of rotten food hit. Raven put her hand over her nose, breathing through her mouth.

Isaac leant to her ear. ‘OK, here’s the plan. I’m going to slip in through the door there and signal if it’s an all-clear. Wait here until I give the sign.’

‘What’s the signal?’

‘I’ll come to the entrance. As soon as you see me, run across this courtyard as quickly as possible. This part is on the CCTV so it’s vital you do it fast. You’ll only be in sight of the camera for a second so unless you’re really unlucky, no one is likely to notice. Don’t be surprised when the lights come on—they’re motion activated—but I imagine these bins are a favourite with the local foxes so that won’t be seen as unusual. Know what you have to do?’

‘Wait here then act like a fox.’

Isaac smiled. ‘Exactly.’

‘And if you don’t come back?’

‘Run—and call this number. I’ll put it in your phone now.’ He took her handset and quickly entered the details. ‘It’s under Yoda.’

‘OK. Run and ring, my young apprentice. I’ve got that.’

He watched to see she put the phone away. ‘Good. You are doing well. Just one question.’

‘Hmm?’

‘Did you know you have roses in your hair?’ He gave her a wink and slid out of their hiding spot.

Raven touched the back of her head and realized she had forgotten about her prom hairdo and make-up. He must have thought her strangely overdressed for a break-in.

Even though Raven was watching him, she still found it hard to track his movements. Isaac had a way of blending into the background, using every shadow to his advantage. He was inside, door closed, before she had taken six breaths.

OK, Raven: that’s how you do it when your turn comes.
She just wished he had picked a less stomach churning place to wait. Inspiration struck. She plucked one of the scented roses from her hair and put it to her nose: an unexpected bonus of an otherwise wasted prom outfit.

Kieran was marched past the wine racks then pushed inside an underground room lit by a weak bulb. From the lingering smell of carbolic soap, he deduced it had once been a laundry, now converted to a dormitory for the manor’s less pliable guests. The two people already inside stood up as he entered, backing together against a wall. They only relaxed when the door closed, leaving just Kieran.

The boy glanced up at the light, his scalp shining through his shaved dark hair. When the bulb remained lit, he gave his companion a brief smile. ‘Good. I thought for sure they’d turn it out to piss us off.’ He waved sardonically to Kieran. ‘Hi, I’m Johnny Minter. I can guess why you’re here. Your mini-break taken a turn for the worse?’

‘You could say that. Kieran Storm. And you must be Siobhan?’

The girl, a nervous-looking brunette, nodded and moved closer to Johnny. ‘See,’ she whispered, ‘our absence has been noticed. I told you it was only a matter of time.’

Johnny waved to the bunk beds set up around the room. ‘Take your pick. That one’s mine and Siobhan’s is over there. Best find it before lights out. Our luxurious en suite is through that door there.’

Kieran chose the one nearest the door, best placed to protect the other two but also affording the greatest chance of escape. He sat down on it, studying the walls for signs of cameras or listening devices.

‘Yeah, the room’s wired,’ said Johnny. He slid to the floor, putting his arm around Siobhan’s shoulders as she sat beside him.

‘How long you been here?’

‘Weeks. First it was just me, and then they added Siobhan. Now you.’

‘Do you get out?’

‘Oh yeah. We get taken out for exercise and re-education sessions but we’re not allowed to see anyone else. Not sure why they let us stay together.’

‘They want one of us to crack and persuade the other to follow,’ Siobhan said softly.

‘But I’m a West Ham supporter—can’t get more bloody minded than one of those suffering the torment of relegation and promotion every effing season. And Siobhan here is Irish—need I say more.’ He gave her an approving grin. ‘Up the Rebels, yeah? What about you?’

Kieran shrugged. ‘There was just something about me that rubbed Namrata up the wrong way. They gave up on me after about a week.’

Johnny whistled. ‘Cool. You get the record. It took at least a month before they decided I wasn’t going to break. She’s a cow, isn’t she? But I think Heath is worse as he still pretends to be our friend.’

The light flicked out.

‘Thanks, Heath. We love you too!’ shouted Johnny.

‘I think they’re just tired of us now—wish we’d crumble so they could get on with business.’ Siobhan sounded resigned.

‘Don’t put it like that—like we owe them anything. We are beating their system—the more fed up with us they are, the better. Eventually they’ll just wash their hands of us and let us go.’

Looking at these two dropouts and comparing them to the ones who had returned to Westron, the last element of the mystery fell into place. ‘They’re forming disciples, aren’t they?’ This wasn’t just about straightening out bad behaviour; it was crafting future members of the network, more finely tuned to the needs of the trustees and the others in the network. The parents were useful in their own way but a new cadre of supporters, well trained, loyal only to other UIS graduates, was being propagated for planting in international business and government. That’s why no one was acting like they were being forced: they were all too happy join the gang, being part of the ‘in’ and not the ‘out’ crowd.

‘That makes us heretics in their cult of the beautiful people,’ said Johnny happily.

As Kieran’s eyes adjusted he realized there was a faint light in the bathroom. ‘What’s that?’

‘Old laundry chute. Connects to the linen room above but it’s barred. This place is a health and safety nightmare.’

Siobhan snorted. ‘Like that’s their first consideration. Hi, Mr Inspector, we’re worried about the fire escapes in our torture chambers.’

‘So how do you pass the time?’ Kieran tested the bed frame. It was bolted to the floor.

‘Talking mostly. I think I’ve bored Siobhan with every memory of my fairly depressing childhood.’

‘You aren’t boring, Johnny.’

‘She knows lots of songs, so that’s been good.’

‘Do they drug you?’ asked Kieran. It was odd to have a clear head again after a week of fog.

‘Nah, gave up on that after the first two weeks. I think they don’t quite know what to do with us. The others changed really quickly—like they were ready to see the error of their ways and hurry into the fold of being good little boys and girls. You should’ve seen them in their confession sessions, all crying to be let into the clique of perfect people. But I didn’t. I blew through the first week in a rage—the drug just made me really foul mouthed. I cursed my father every way I could imagine for not thinking me good enough.’