The Ability (Ability, The) (25 page)

Sebastian, Daisy, Philip, and Lexi nodded.

“Good. So I imagine they must also have told you that the prime minister, Edward Banks, was a pupil here at the same time, which makes this an extremely sensitive and urgent investigation. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir Bentley,” they all replied.

“Now, I have been working day and night to try to anticipate where the next attack could happen. We have tight security in place for myself and the prime minister, and even Clarissa Teller has agreed to have some men stationed on her small island—just in case. So far we haven’t come across anything suspicious, but we’re certain now that another attack is imminent, and the only opportunity that we can think of where an attacker would be able to get near to any of us—in fact, all of us—is at the Antarctic Ball in a couple of weeks.”

“The Antarctic Ball?” said Daisy. “In Hyde Park?”

“Yes, Daisy, that’s right,” replied Sir Bentley, “the most famous children’s ball in the world. More than five hundred children will be there, as well as myself, Clarissa Teller, the prime minister, and over twenty heads of state. It is enormous, spectacular, and the perfect opportunity for a child to mill about unnoticed in close proximity to the prime minister. I could be wrong, but my instinct and years of experience tell me that this is where the attacks are most likely to take place. Clarissa Teller leaves her island only once a year—specifically to attend the ball. As you may know, she donates all the proceeds from the sales of her books to a number of children’s charities, so she will be attending, along with a number of other very
generous patrons of similar organizations. I am always there; as head of security I am in charge of making sure that everybody—particularly royalty, the prime minister, and other visiting dignitaries—are kept safe. That leaves the prime minister himself, who as everybody knows, starts off the proceedings each year. He will—”

“Is there really a palace made of ice?” interrupted Daisy.

“Of course, and it’s rather wonderful; I’m sure you’ll be very impressed,” said Sir Bentley. “But as I was saying—”

“And that they freeze the lake so you can skate on it?” asked Lexi.

“Yes, that’s also true. Now, if I can—”

“What about flying monkeys—are there any flying monkeys?”

“No, Rex, no flying monkeys. Now, I’m happy to answer any questions about the Antarctic Ball in just a moment, but first I need to finish what I was saying. Understood?”

They all nodded their heads.

“Good. So, we have decided to continue with the ball—it’s too late to cancel it now—and I am going to make sure that if the boy who attacked Cecil Humphries, Lady Magenta, and probably Richard Baxter turns up, he will be caught and we can find out who is behind all of this.”

“What are his physical characteristics?” asked Sebastian.

“He’s asking what the boy looks like,” explained Philip.

Sebastian turned to Philip, annoyed. “I peruse the dictionary so that I no require the translation furthermore,” he said.

“I’d give up if I were you, Shakespeare—stick to Spanish,” said Rex.

“
Lárgate, idiota.”

“Get lost yourself, Pedro—or did you forget that we all took our Spanish A level?”

Sir Bentley sighed. “Boys, stop. This is important, and I need you all to be serious. We’ll have stationed more than two hundred guards at the palace for the evening—that’s not including all the people watching the security cameras we’re having hidden around the place. But—and this is where you all come in—we need to make sure that if anybody does use their Ability in there, they can be stopped. So—”

“We’re going to the ball?” asked Daisy, thrilled.

“Yes, Daisy, you’re all going to the Antarctic Ball.”

“Yay!” cheered the children, turning to one another in excited chatter.

“But!” interrupted Sir Bentley. “You’ll be working.”

“But we’ll be eating dinner there?”

“Yes—”

“Yay!” cheered the children once more. Sir Bentley looked exhausted.

“Children, please. Calm down. You’ll be attending, but you will also be working. I know you’re all excited, but this is a very serious thing we’re asking you to do. If—and I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to it—that boy or anybody else comes in trying to use the Ability, you are going to have to stop it. There are lives in danger, and I don’t want any of you to come to any harm, but I can’t lie—it could be dangerous.”

“How dangerous?” asked Chris.

“Well, hopefully not very. We’re going to spend the next
three weeks training you intensively. You will still do your exercise with Mr. Green, but after that we’re going to stop all your normal studies with Miss Sonata and focus entirely on using your Ability, so Ms. Lamb will be taking all your lessons outside of your think tanks. I’m afraid there’ll also be some lessons on the weekends to make sure we remain on schedule.”

The children all groaned.

“We will catch up on your academic studies after Christmas,” continued Sir Bentley, as if he hadn’t heard them. “It won’t take long, but in the meantime we need to make sure you’re ready to tackle anything that may happen at the ball. Before we do so, I just want to make sure that you all understand the seriousness of what I’m asking you to do.”

The children nodded.

“And I want you to know that you are under no obligation to come. If you would prefer to stay here, we will completely understand. So . . . is there anybody who would prefer not to attend?”

The children all shook their heads vigorously.

“You all want to come—bearing in mind that you will be working?”

“Yes!” said the children emphatically.

“Are we going to go in one of the glass carriages?” asked Daisy, wide-eyed.

Sir Bentley thought for a moment.

“Well . . . you have to get there early before the rest of the guests arrive, so we were going to take you in cars.”

“Ohhhh,” groaned the children.

“But maybe we can arrange for you to arrive there early
in one of the carriages—I’m sure it shouldn’t be too difficult to organize.”

“Yay!” they all cheered.

Sir Bentley smiled. “I’m glad you’re all so excited, but please remember, you will be
working
.”

The children all nodded solemnly.

“That’s better. Your invitations will arrive in the next few days, and we’ll get you fitted for your tuxedos and dresses soon.”

“Yay!”

“One more thing,” said Sir Bentley, looking like he couldn’t wait to leave, “you are all to stay here at Myers Holt until the day of the ball. I know that some of you had planned to go home on some weekends, but I’m afraid that will have to be cancelled—we just can’t risk letting you out of our sight. Understood?”

“But . . . ,” said Chris, suddenly serious, “I have to do something on Sunday the sixteenth.”

“I’m afraid you’ll just have to call and cancel, Christopher—reschedule it for January.”

“But—”

“No buts, Christopher; you have to stay here. I need to make sure you’re safe at all times. Understood?”

Chris nodded. He wondered how Frank would feel when he broke his promise and didn’t turn up at the pawnbroker’s.

•  •  •

“I’m off to bed; you staying up?” asked Philip, peering round Chris’s open cabin door. Chris looked up from his desk and nodded.

“I can’t find anything in the manual that says that we can move objects from far away.”

“You can’t,” said Philip. “Give up. You’ll just have to make it up to him in the New Year.”

“But I promised him,” said Chris, looking concerned. “I can’t let him down.”

“You heard what Sir Bentley said; you’ll just have to explain that you’re busy.”

“I can’t—he needs the shop tidied up before Christmas. Maybe I’ll just sneak out for a couple of hours that Sunday—I’m sure nobody will notice. Will you cover for me?”

“Okay, but for the record I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I know . . . but you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Chris, closing up the manual and putting it back on the shelf. “Guess I’ll go to bed too then.”

“All right, see you tomorrow. We’ve got Ms. Lamb first thing.”

“Urgh. Don’t remind me,” said Chris, climbing up the ladder to his bed. “I’ll have nightmares.”

•  •  •

The next morning Chris walked into the classroom to find Ms. Lamb standing by her desk with an enormous German shepherd at her side. As if this weren’t disconcerting enough, the moment the dog laid eyes on Chris, it began to growl softly. Chris sidestepped to his desk and took his seat.

Ms. Lamb turned to the dog. “Children, this is Hermes.”

Hermes sat back on his hind legs and lifted his front paw.

“Aaah, he’s so sweet,” said Daisy, cooing.

“No, he’s not; he could rip your head off in one bite,” said Rex darkly, from the back of the room.

Daisy’s eyes widened in fear, and she turned to Ms. Lamb for reassurance, but Ms. Lamb just nodded.

“The boy is right. And I won’t have anybody treating him like a plaything, understood?”

Hermes bared his fangs and growled, as if on cue. Suddenly he didn’t seem quite so adorable.

“Today’s lesson is in suggestion, though it’s a rather misleading name, given that you won’t be suggesting anything—you’re
commanding
somebody to do exactly what you want. By the end of the week I’ll expect all of you to be able to transmit messages to a human being quickly and efficiently. The Antarctic Ball is three weeks away, and there’s a possibility that one of you will have to do this—so I expect you to listen carefully.”

Chris sat up straight and tried to focus on Ms. Lamb instead of the dog, which was difficult, as it seemed to be eyeing him up personally for its lunch.

“Implanting thoughts is the most difficult thing to do with the Ability—unlike telepathy, where you’re effectively visiting somebody else’s mind and having a look around, suggestion involves changing the mind’s environment with whatever you want that person to think or do.”

The image of Ms. Lamb disco-dancing suddenly popped into Chris’s head, and he smiled to himself.

“To start you off,” continued Ms. Lamb, “we’ll be practicing on Hermes. Dogs are particularly sensitive to the Ability and won’t fight it in the same way that humans will.
We’ll begin by getting Hermes to sit. So, exactly like you do with telepathy, I want you to enter his Reception area, where current thoughts are. When you’re there, I want you to shout, ‘Sit!’—not out loud, obviously, but in your mind. Concentrate on making it a strong enough command that it replaces any sounds and images that are already in the dog’s current thoughts. Right, let’s not waste any time. You—begin.”

Ms. Lamb looked over at Chris, who was not at all surprised to be picked first. He leaned forward nervously in the direction of Hermes and tried to ignore the menacing look that the dog was giving him. He stared the dog in the eyes and tried to clear his mind. A moment later he was standing in a vast room, surrounded by images of himself and the other pupils sitting at their desks. All he could hear was the loud pounding of the dog’s heartbeat. Chris looked around and shuddered—in the corner of the dog’s Reception he could make out the image of himself on the floor of the classroom, being attacked by Hermes. He tried to focus on the word “sit,” but all he could seem to think about was how difficult that was to do with Ms. Lamb staring at him. A minute passed, and Hermes hadn’t so much as flinched.

“Are you even trying, boy?” asked Ms. Lamb, finally.

Chris’s concentration was broken, and he was suddenly back in the room.

“Yes,” said Chris, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s useless—not that I’m surprised. What did you do?”

Chris shrugged nervously. “Umm, I went into his Reception and thought of the word ‘sit.’ ”

“That’s not an answer. What exactly did you think of?”

“I . . . um . . . thought of the word ‘sit’ in black letters.”

Ms. Lamb gave a scornful snort. “The last time I checked, dogs weren’t able to read. Pathetic. You have to fill Reception with an image of the dog doing what you want him to do—that’s the only way that he’ll understand. Try again.”

Chris tried to shake off his nerves and stared at the dog once more. This time when he entered the dog’s Reception, he imagined Hermes sitting. He heard a low growl but tried to ignore it and instead focused on the image even harder. He looked around the large space, and the image of the dog sitting appeared, faintly at first, then clearer, and eventually large enough that all the other sounds and images around him disappeared. He heard a soft whimper. Chris quickly blinked and looked to see that Hermes was sitting dutifully, though the expression on his face still suggested he’d quite like to rip Chris to pieces.

Ms. Lamb made no comment. Instead she turned to Daisy. “Your turn.”

Daisy looked terrified, as she always did when she was asked to do anything by Ms. Lamb. She stood up slowly and focused on Hermes. Hermes lowered his head, and his eyes narrowed. He growled.

Daisy’s bottom lip wobbled, and she looked as if she was about to burst into tears. She stood up and faced the dog. Hermes growled louder.

“Any second now he’s going to attack her,” said Rex,
sounding like he would rather enjoy the spectacle.

Daisy heard him and paused. She turned to look at Rex, and he grinned. “What?” he said, the picture of innocence. She turned to face Ms. Lamb.

“Can I go last?” she asked nervously.

“Of course not,” barked Ms. Lamb. “Get on with it.”

Daisy turned, trembling, and stared at the dog. Finally, after a few minutes of silence, the dog let out a long, low moan and sat back on his hind legs.

Over the course of the next hour, the children took it in turns to make Hermes sit, play dead, walk around the room, and hide under the table. Finally Ms. Lamb called Hermes back to her side.

“Not terribly impressive, but we’ll move on nonetheless,” she said. She handed the dog a biscuit, which he wolfed down in one gulp, and instructed the children to follow her out to the Dome where Mr. Green had set up an obstacle course for Hermes made up of ramps, hoops, and cones.