The Castle (21 page)

FORTY-FIVE

W
e'd reached a large, airy kitchen with a wall of windows overlooking the gardens. There was a big but homely cooking area at one end and a long trestle table at the other, where some of the people from the Foundation were starting to gather. Not a chef was in sight: in this house, people made their own breakfast.

There was lots of banter, teasing and good-natured swearing as the early birds grabbed food and chose somewhere to sit. But all of that stopped when Henry and I walked inside.

‘How are you doing, Peta?' a woman with tattoos from shoulder to wrist asked me politely. ‘Can I get you something?'

‘No, I can do it,' I said.

There was no sign of Dad yet. I hoped he was still catching up on sleep. Meanwhile, I set about choosing the biggest, fattest yellowy-golden croissant from a pile on a nearby counter, and pouring myself a big tumbler of orange juice. As I sat down, I waited for the conversation to return to its original energy level, but that didn't happen; they chatted in muted voices now. My presence seemed to put them off, and that hurt.

‘I've been telling Peta about Mike's mission,' Henry said, making himself an espresso from a high-tech coffee machine. ‘I thought she should know.'

Again, I expected them to relax, knowing I was in on the secret. But again, I was disappointed. Instead, there were lots of surprised faces around the table, and a couple of furrowed brows. This was so annoying! I'd personally been shot at on that mission, which is more than any of them had. I at least deserved to know what it was.

‘Not exactly our biggest success,' Henry went on. ‘But at least we learnt lessons.'

‘You got him out alive, boss,' François said.

Er,
hello
?

Henry came to sit next to me.

‘We need to talk,' the bald-headed man on my other side muttered to him, leaning across me to get his attention. ‘About the intel Mike gave us last night. Those other prisoners . . . Shall we go outside?'

Henry turned to me. ‘You don't mind if we talk here, do you, Peta? I need this coffee.' I shook my head, scattering croissant crumbs. ‘Go on, Steve.'

The bald-headed man looked uncomfortable. ‘Er, right. OK. So if Wahool's really planning to kill them the day of the coup—'

‘WHAT?'

Steve glared at me. I shut up.

‘—we need to get them out fast. He'll want to use them as battle trophies. It'll be messy.'

Henry nodded, considering the problem. I was thinking,
What are battle trophies?
It sounded nasty, but I didn't say anything. Steve disliked me enough already.

‘I've been wondering about a rescue,' Henry said. ‘I'd love to do it, but we don't have the manpower. We're set up for covert ops, not snatches.'

‘We could do it,' François insisted from the other end of the table. ‘Just. There's a blind spot on the island, up the cliffs. We know exactly where to locate the prisoners. Only two guards outside the cells. In and out. Fast and clean.'

The others agreed. They were all obviously up for the job, glad to do something to save the mission from being a failure. Quickly, the idea became a plan. This was fantastic!

‘There's another boy there,' I said excitedly. ‘Karim. Amina's brother. He got us out, but he stayed behind to try and protect Sammy and Parissa. You've got to get him too.'

‘Mike told us about him last night,' Steve said. He turned to me with an unexpectedly kind, pitying expression that made me nervous. ‘Look, I'm really sorry, sweets, but this has to be a lightning-fast operation. Otherwise we'll get into a firefight, and that won't be pretty for anyone.' He put a hand on my shoulder. ‘We can only rescue people we know how to find, and according to Mike, that boy could be anywhere. I know he was kind of your friend, and Mike's too, but—'

‘He was more than our friend! He saved our lives!'

Steve sighed. ‘We'll do what we can, OK? But I have to be realistic. And we need to get planning.' He patted me on the shoulder. ‘You've been through a lot, kid. I know Mike wants to talk to you about what happened at the castle and on the
yacht and everything. Why don't you go upstairs and have a bit of a rest till he comes down? And don't worry – every-thing's under control.'

I looked down at my shoulder, where he'd
patted me
. It was like Sergeant McCrae telling me to rustle up sandwiches all over again.

They were going to the castle, but they weren't going to find Karim. They weren't even going to try.

Everything so absolutely wasn't under control.

I went to find Dad. I didn't even know where his room was, until I found Maria, the housekeeper, to ask her. She explained that Dad was with the nurse in the medical suite. Because naturally, this villa had a medical suite. I mean, don't they all?

She showed me to a little pavilion next to the main house, where Dad was sitting on what looked like a massage table, having his foot strapped up by a smart-looking woman in a shirt and suit skirt.

‘Hello, love,' he said, beaming at me. ‘Having a good day?'

His hair was now beautifully cut and his skin was shaved. He looked rested and slightly more like himself, but he sat stiffly on the table and winced when he moved. I could just make out a swathe of tight bandages under his T-shirt, and more around his arm and foot.

‘No.'

I didn't want to make things worse for him, given how much pain he was obviously in, but the business with the rescue was too important. I told him about the job the team were planning, and what they'd said about Karim. He nodded and winced. Even nodding hurt.

‘I'm sorry, love. Steve's right. You know I like Karim as
much as you do. The boy's fantastic. But he's not in danger like the others are, and the team can't get him out if they can't find him, and I can't tell them where to look.'

‘I could tell them where to try.'

‘Sure,' he said absently. ‘You do that, love.'

I knew my dad so well, and the way he said ‘You do that, love,' meant
You do the thing that we know won't work, and we'll listen politely and then get on with the real stuff.
I thought he'd be the answer, but he was just as bad as Steve.

‘Va bene così?'
The nurse straightened up and got Dad to see if he could walk on his strapped foot. Every step was obviously painful, but Dad pretended it wasn't. He nodded vigorously.

‘Fantastico, Allegra! Grazie.'
He looked at me. ‘Are the others still in the kitchen?'

‘Yes. Shall we—?'

‘Great. I'll join them. See you later, OK?'

I let it get to me. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I did. I sulked around in the gardens for half an hour, furious and frus trated, with Dad as much as anyone. Eventually, though, I went back to the kitchen too, because it was the only room with any life, and this time the noise level didn't drop when I walked in, because they ignored me completely. Dad gave me his polite
Hi, but not now, love
face. I'd forgotten he even had that face.

I listened while they discussed explosives, crampons and the castle layout. Maria arrived and started making soup for lunch. Amina came in too and offered to help her, glad of something to do. Maria got her stirring a pan of sizzling onions. Assuming I felt the same about helping out, she gave me two bowls of water, one scalding hot and one cold, and showed me how to peel tomatoes at the counter: scoring them
with a sharp knife and plunging them into hot water, then cold. It was about as much fun as it sounds. All the time, the Colombo team sat around drinking coffee and making plans.

‘So how close did you get?' one of the guys asked Dad, during a quieter moment.

‘To the money?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Close,' Dad sighed. ‘I got into the accounts, but most of the cash won't be there until just before the deal. It was a waiting game.'

‘Ha. You wouldn't have had to wait long,' Steve chipped in. ‘The boss heard the deal was close to happening.'

Oh yeah
, I thought.
That would be because I told him
.

Dad groaned. ‘If I'd managed to hand over to you, François, and if we just knew where the Grandfather was, we could've . . . Damn!' He thumped the table in frustration.

‘What about the Grandfather?' I asked, looking up from my half-peeled tomatoes.

Dad glanced round, surprised. I think he'd forgotten I was there.

‘It's just that they won't do the deal without him. When he gets together with Wahool, that's when it'll happen. But he dropped off the radar weeks ago. About ten agencies are searching for him.'

‘Oh, right.' I went back to peeling my tomatoes. ‘That's tricky.' They went back to their conversation. ‘By the way,' I added, ‘I know when they're meeting. And where. It's happening in five days. If that helps.'

Major swear word.

Steve had tipped hot coffee all over himself. Everyone was staring at me.

I forced myself not to smile.

FORTY-SIX

W
hat happened next was very satisfying. Everyone clustered round. They took the tomatoes away from me, sat me down at the table and took turns to ask me questions while I explained about being on the yacht, and hearing about Yasmin's birthday party, and how the Grand father was on his way.

‘We'd heard rumours,' François admitted.

‘But he's supposed to be in the Caribbean,' said Elena, the girl with the tattoos.

‘Or doing a deal in Moscow,' added a boffin-type called Syed from across the table.

‘Wahool's security people confirmed it,' I insisted. ‘He's
bringing his big yacht. And besides, Mr Wahool told Yasmin about this visit when he thought no one else was listening. I don't think he'd lie to her for no reason.'

Across the table, François spoke up. ‘Yes, it makes sense. The Grandfather was always fond of Yasmin. They say she was like the daughter he never had. And imagine: a big party, a castle full of important guests. Wahool could invite all his cronies and nobody would notice. It's the perfect cover to finalise the coup.'

They thought about it. The more they thought about it, the more they agreed. The more they agreed, the more impressed they were with my eavesdropping skills. They were even more impressed when I went upstairs and got the torn and dirty invitation from the last of my belongings, to prove the date of the party. Steve didn't look remotely tempted to call me ‘sweets', or pat me, or tell me to ‘go and have a rest'.

Then a bad thing happened.

Dad said, ‘It's not too late. We can combine operations and I can finish this. It's my set-up. I know the systems. I'm going back in.'

No. No! NO. This was
not
what I had in mind.

For months, Dad had been a prisoner. They were bringing someone in specifically to torture him and I'd only just got him out of there. (
Karim
and I had only just got him out of there.) He was finally safe and he was NOT going back. No way. No way ever. Not Dad.

‘But you said . . . Couldn't François do it?'

I looked across to the Frenchman. I didn't want
anyone
going inside the castle unless they absolutely had to, but surely François was better than Dad?

‘I never did hand over,' Dad said dismissively. ‘François
hasn't seen the layout, doesn't know the systems. If this gets done, it has to be done fast. By me.'

Henry Phillips walked in two minutes later, looking exasperated, with Steve hot on his tail. Steve must have told him about the whole stupid idea.

‘Mike – we need to talk,' Henry said.

Dad stared at him levelly. ‘You're right. We do.'

‘I know you want to finish the job, but come on. You're Wahool's Most Wanted. Everyone in the place will be looking for you.'

Keep it up, Henry. Liking your angle so far
.

‘They won't,' Dad said, sticking his chin out. ‘They'll think exactly what you think – that I'd never go back. All I need is thirty minutes with Wahool's laptop. I know exactly where to find it . . .'

‘Thirty minutes? That's a lifetime. Who's going to give you thirty minutes?'

‘At a party? Everyone. They'll all be busy saying happy birthday to Yasmin and watching the fireworks. You know it makes sense, Henry. I worked on that banking program for months. I installed the virus, I know how to activate it. If anything goes wrong, I'm the only one who can fix it.'

The trouble was, when Dad looked at you a certain way, it was hard to resist. He was super-confident and totally convincing. Around the table, I sensed the others starting to waver.

But not the boss, thank goodness. ‘Can we step outside, please?' he asked.

‘Sure,' Dad said.

They went out into the garden and everyone left them to it. Everyone except me. I took my bowls of tomatoes to a spot near the open window and listened as hard as I could.

‘You can't do it, Mike,' Henry insisted in a lowered voice.

‘The virus is installed. All I need is—'

‘I don't mean the IT. I mean, look at you. You're a wreck. We're talking swimming in, scaling a cliff-face, taking on the guards. Even at peak fitness it's hardly a walk in the park, but you're held together with tape right now.'

‘I'm fine,' Dad insisted. ‘I got out of there, didn't I? I got the girls out.'

With help
, I shouted in my head.
With a little bit of help, Dad.

‘You need time to heal . . .'

‘I don't have it. Trust me, Henry, this is our only chance.'

‘And even if you go, I don't have the people to support you. We'll be at our limit as it is, getting the prisoners out. You'd be on your own in there.'

They wandered off towards the olive grove, too far for me to hear any more. But by the time they came back, Dad had worked his magic. Even Henry was on board. Dad was part of the operation again.

Now the kitchen was full of
Way to go, Mike
s and high-fiving. What had happened to being held together with tape, or ‘Wahool's Most Wanted'? Only I still thought of his ban dages and broken toes. Only I had seen Karim's face when he talked about ‘the room where they do these things'. The whole idea was insane.

‘You can't do this!' I shouted.

‘Look, Peta,' Dad snapped at me, losing it completely. He was as angry as I'd ever seen him. ‘If I don't stop the deal, the coup goes ahead. Maybe we save Sammy and Parissa, but six million Marvalians get the Grandfather back, and – think about it – he'll take his revenge. He'll put the Jongleur in
charge. Do you really want that to happen?
Do
you? And even if we somehow stop the coup, the people will still starve. Everything they had has been taken from them. In thirty minutes, I could change that.'

So basically, I was back where I'd started. To save my dad, I'd have to sacrifice the lives of six million people. Or to try and save them, I'd have to sacrifice my dad. Whatever happened, it was my fault.

I stood there shaking for a moment, too overwhelmed to think straight. In the silence that followed, François coughed uncomfortably. He knew who would win this fight, and so did I. As usual, I had tried to do something good, and ended up making everything worse.