The Ability (Ability, The) (21 page)

Rex grinned. “Wow! Chris, we’ll be famous! This has got to get us a medal or something.”

“Now, now, let’s not get carried away,” said Sir Bentley. “You haven’t actually done anything yet, and let me remind you, all your work here must be carried out in the strictest confidence. Let’s go.”

Rex stood up and saluted. “Let’s save the world,” he said. Chris laughed, and Sir Bentley smiled.

“Come on, Superman, we have work to do.”

“Where are we going?” asked Chris, as they stood up.

“To a small island in the Outer Hebrides to meet Clarissa Teller,” said Sir Bentley, leading them out of the room.

“Aren’t they up near Scotland?” asked Chris, confused.

“That is correct, Christopher. We’ll be getting there by helicopter.”

“Helicopter?”
shouted Rex.

“Yes, helicopter,” confirmed Sir Bentley.

“Wow!” said Chris, as Rex gave him a high five.

“Do you think they’ll let me fly it for a bit?” asked Rex.

Sir Bentley was about to respond, but then something occurred to him, and he stopped dead.

“What’s wrong, sir?” asked Rex.

“Boys, I don’t want any . . . messing around on the flight.”

“Yes, sir,” said Chris and Rex, still smiling.

“I mean it. You don’t realize quite how powerful your Ability is yet, and you certainly haven’t learned to control it. If you start thinking about the helicopter doing stunts or crashing into the sea or anything like that, there’s a good chance that you might actually make it happen.”

Chris’s and Rex’s eyes widened in horror as they realized the full implication of what Sir Bentley was saying.

Sir Bentley saw the looks on the boys’ faces and smiled. “Don’t worry; I’m sure it will be fine,” he said, stepping into the elevator.

“Are you okay, Rex?” asked Chris, as the elevator began to rise.

Rex shook his head, looking a little pale. “I’m just thinking about something my dad once told me.”

“What?” asked Chris.

“He told me that if you want to make someone think about an elephant, then all you have to do is tell them
not
to think about an elephant.”

Chris thought about this for a second, confused, and then his eyes widened.

“Oh,” he said, and suddenly all that Chris could think about was helicopters crashing.

•  •  •

By the time the car pulled up at the heliport in Battersea, all thought of helicopters crashing was long forgotten, replaced with the excitement of the journey they were about to take.

“Stay right where you are,” instructed Ron, as John pulled into a parking space next to one of the three other unmarked cars that had escorted them. Ron, who was on a permanently heightened state of vigilance following recent events, jumped out and crouched down. Chris watched the top of Ron’s head move slowly around the car, and then the head disappeared. Seconds later Ron jumped up and ran across the tarmac, past a fleet of waiting helicopters to
the other side of the heliport, where he scanned his surroundings, his eyes darting about for any lurking dangers. Chris looked over at John, who, although completely still and staring straight ahead, seemed also to be on high alert.

The door next to Sir Bentley opened, and Chris and Rex jumped. They looked over to see Ron, who was motioning for them to step out of the car.

“Coast is clear,” he said, leading them quickly over to the first helicopter. John followed behind them, walking slowly, his head scanning the landscape from left to right and back again.

Chris climbed up the steps into the helicopter. He greeted the two waiting pilots and fastened his seat belt.

Ron closed the door and ran over to the helicopter next to them as the rotors started spinning. Chris looked out and watched as the helicopter began to rise slowly, then dip forward and suddenly speed up, soaring upward over the river and across London. Chris looked behind him and saw three helicopters following them—he jabbed Rex in the shoulder to show him.

“WE’RE INCREASING SECURITY,” explained Sir Bentley, shouting over the noise of the helicopter.

“WHAT DO YOU CALL A SHEEP WITH NO LEGS?” shouted Rex, looking terrified.

Chris and Sir Bentley both looked at him in surprise.

“I NEED TO STOP THINKING BAD THOUGHTS!” explained Rex, clearly panicking as he pointed up to the rotors above them. A look of alarm suddenly appeared on both Chris’s and Sir Bentley’s faces as they realized what Rex was talking about.

“WHAT DO YOU CALL A SHEEP WITH NO LEGS?” repeated Rex.

“I DON’T KNOW, WHAT DO YOU CA—” replied Chris.

“A CLOUD,” shouted Rex, without laughing. “WHAT DOES A TREE DO WHEN HE’S READY TO GO HOME? HE LEAVES. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH SANTA’S LITTLE HELPER? HE HAD LOW ELF-ESTEEM. . . .”

Chris watched Rex, more fascinated than concerned, as Rex proceeded to recite the entire contents of
The Definitive Joke Compendium
, which he had committed to memory the night before.

“WHAT DID THE ZERO SAY TO THE EIGHT? NICE BELT. WHY DID THE BABY STRAWBERRY CRY? BECAUSE ITS PARENTS WERE IN A JAM. DOCTOR, DOCTOR . . .”

Chris was about to punch Rex in the arm to shut him up, but then, realizing the alternative might be crashing into the fields below, decided to do his best to ignore him. Sir Bentley, obviously thinking the same thing, took out a newspaper and began to read. Chris pressed his face up against the window and, blocking out the sound of Rex’s voice, watched, amazed, as the helicopter took them on a journey past the countryside, villages, and towns.

Finally, after more than an hour of listening to Rex’s nonstop barrage of jokes, they began their descent toward a tiny island, with only a small white cottage on it.

“At last,” said Rex, breathing a huge sigh of relief as the helicopter touched down near the building. Moments later,
the three other helicopters that had followed them landed and from them emerged Ron and John and ten other bodyguards, all of them surly and alert. John motioned to Sir Bentley to wait as the rest of the team circled the cottage.

“All clear,” called John.

Sir Bentley turned to Chris and Rex. “Follow me,” he said, as the door opened and the cold air swept in.

Chris climbed down last and followed Sir Bentley and Rex toward the cottage, but before they could reach the front door, a woman in a cream woolen sweater, jeans, and Wellington boots emerged from the cottage.

“Sir!” she said, smiling. She kissed Sir Bentley on both cheeks.

“Thank you so much for agreeing to this,” said Sir Bentley.

“For my old teacher how could I refuse? I just can’t believe everything that’s happened recently—I’ll do anything I can to help,” she said, then looked over at the boys. “Hello! I’m Clarissa.”

“This is Rex and Christopher,” said Sir Bentley. “They’re our new Myers Holt pupils that I told you about, and great fans of yours.”

Chris and Rex both stared up at her, awestruck.

Clarissa laughed. “It’s always lovely to meet fans. And Myers Holt pupils too! It just doesn’t seem that long ago. . . . Was I really that young?” she asked, turning to Sir Bentley, and he nodded, smiling.

“It’s freezing out here,” she said. “Come inside and I’ll make us all a hot cup of cocoa.”

Chris was surprised to see that the cottage was even
smaller than it appeared from the outside, perhaps because all the walls and every surface were stacked high with books, one on top of the other. On the far end was a wood burner that was pumping heat into the room. A couple of worn sofas covered in thick blankets dominated the space, and in the corner was a tiny kitchen that consisted only of a fridge, an old stove, and a sink.

Sir Bentley sat down on one of the sofas, and Chris sat opposite him, sinking down into the soft cushions next to Rex.

“How are you, Clarissa?” asked Sir Bentley, as Clarissa walked over with a tray of steaming mugs.

“Really well, thank you. Working hard, keeping warm. I’m just finishing my next novel.”

“What’s it called?” asked Chris.

“Ahh, that’s a secret,” she said, smiling, then leaned over and whispered to them, “
The Rat Catcher’s Revenge
 . . . but don’t tell anyone.”

“What’s it about?” asked Chris.

“Well . . . that you’ll just have to wait and see,” she said, “though knowing what you boys are capable of, you could probably find out for yourselves!”

Chris and Rex considered this for a moment before Sir Bentley gave them a stern glance.

“Uh-hum, no you won’t,” said Sir Bentley. “We’re here on business only, please; no messing around.”

Chris and Rex looked disappointed but nodded.

“I just can’t believe about Cecil and Richard,” said Clarissa, taking a seat next to Sir Bentley, holding the mug of chocolate with both hands. “It’s just awful.”

“I know, I know,” said Sir Bentley sadly. “I think we all hoped we’d never hear anything of this again after . . . what happened.”

“You know, not a day goes by when I don’t think about Danny or Anna,” said Clarissa softly.

“And me, Clarissa, and me,” agreed Sir Bentley.

For a moment nobody spoke. Chris and Rex sat awkwardly, not knowing what to say, until Clarissa sat up suddenly, shaking herself from her thoughts.

“Right, well, you boys don’t need to see me getting all morose. Why don’t we get straight down to work?”

Chris and Rex nodded, relieved that the tension had been broken.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing at all,” said Sir Bentley. “The boys are going to use their Ability to see if there’s anything that could help us. I can’t imagine for a moment that you’d have anything to do with this whole mess, but we have to be thorough. I hope you understand.”

“Of course; I don’t mind at all. I have nothing to hide.”

“Boys? You know what to do,” said Sir Bentley, and Chris and Rex pushed themselves forward and sat up straight on the edge of the sofa. Chris suddenly felt very nervous.

“It’s okay—remember, I did this myself when I was your age,” said Clarissa, reassuring them, “and I promise not to block you!”

Chris smiled awkwardly, suddenly very aware that he was about to enter the mind of his favorite writer, and looked at Rex, who nodded back at him.

Clarissa sat back on the sofa and took a sip from her mug. “Well, off you go.”

Chris stared at Clarissa’s face, and within seconds he was standing in a large room. He paused to get his bearings and saw images of himself and Rex floating around his head. He walked over to the double doors ahead of him, the sound of his footsteps echoing about him, and stepped out onto the empty road. Chris surveyed the landscape and saw rows and rows of colored buildings reaching out into the distance and, to his right, an enormous, deep-turquoise skyscraper that towered over him. He craned his head, looking up at the top of it, curious to work out what it could be, but it was in the opposite direction of where he was supposed to be going, and he thought better of it.

He turned left and sped forward, until he reached the turn that marked the beginning of Calendar Street. Chris ran straight through the open door of the first building on his left and stopped to look around. Unlike the room he had entered in Ms. Lamb’s mind, this room was bright and airy, and the filing cabinets looked brand-new, their gleaming white exteriors bouncing the sunlight that was streaming in from the windows about the place.

Directly in front of him was a small filing cabinet with a single drawer that was open. Suddenly he heard a whooshing sound, and a green folder flew in from outside, passed his shoulder, and landed inside the drawer, which then closed abruptly. He looked over at the cabinet and saw the fresh white sticker that had the word
TODAY
written on it and next to it a slightly larger cabinet, which, as Chris expected, was labeled
YESTERDAY
. He walked over to it and
leaned down to open the bottom drawer. Inside, the hanging files were labeled with times. Chris pulled out the file marked
MIDDAY
and opened it. A bright image floated up from between the green files and hovered in front of him as the sound of jazz music filled the space around him. Chris watched Clarissa standing next to her stove, spreading butter on a slice of toast. She leaned over, took an apple from a fruit bowl in front of her, placed it on the plate, then carried it over to the small desk he had seen earlier by the fireplace. She sat down, took a bite of the apple, picked up the pen that had been left on the yellow writing pad in front of her, and began to write. Leaning over the floating image, Chris looked down and watched the words form beneath him.

Jack looked up at Aurelia, his hand still resting on the dragon’s chest. “He’s dead,” he said gently.

Chris stepped back and watched as Clarissa put her pen down and picked up the piece of toast.

Wow
, thought Chris, realizing that he was the first person to read something from Clarissa Teller’s latest book. He wanted to stay and read more but reminded himself that he was here to work. He closed the folder, and with that the image of Clarissa Teller at her desk vanished. He placed the folder carefully back at the front of the drawer, closed it and stepped out on to Calendar Street. He turned and headed quickly in the direction of People Street toward a small cluster of buildings in the distance, each one a different shade of purple. He slowed down as he neared the front entrance to the first and looked up at the sign.

FAMILY

He walked on past the next one marked
BRIEF ENCOUNTERS
, and stopped at the door of the violet building next to it:
OLD ACQUAINTANCES
. The door opened in front of him, and he entered a dark and musty room, lined with rows of old filing cabinets covered in a thick layer of dust. He walked up to the first one and brushed the dust and cobwebs from the front of it to read the label.

AA-AD

Chris suddenly realized that he didn’t know if he should be searching under first or last names. He opened up the drawer and saw that the first folder was labeled
AARON BLESSING
.

First names, then,
thought Chris, walking along the filing cabinets and peering at the labels until he came to the one marked
RI-RO
. He opened it up and found the folder that he was looking for. He pulled out Richard Baxter’s file and let it fall open, but instead of a single image appearing as it had before, a group of scenes flew up in the air, each one behind the other, forming a line that led far down the corridor of cabinets. Chris looked confused and walked around the tunnel of moving colors, which swirled round in a blur. Chris raised his hand to touch it, and the tunnel suddenly broke into two. He walked into the space between them and looked at the one end, which was now a perfectly clear image of a young boy laughing hysterically as he helped a smiling girl Chris recognized as a young Clarissa to her feet. Chris stepped back, and the two tunnels came together again as one. Walking over to the end of the tunnel, he turned to see the final image in the line. This time Clarissa was a young adult, and she was walking
down a busy shopping street. The sound of traffic and people bustling to and fro filled the room. Chris watched Clarissa walking quickly and recognized the adult Richard Baxter immediately from the photograph Sir Bentley had shown them, emerging out of a crowd of people with a purposeful stride. He walked straight into Clarissa and knocked her backward.