Night School

‘No,’ she said sarcastically. ‘He would never do something like that.’


He held his hands up in surrender.

‘So,’ she continued, ‘after chess, it’s like … what? Wa r games? Is that what you’re doing out in the woods at night?’

He nodded. ‘More or less. Combat training, techniques in subterfuge. That kind of thing.’

‘Crazy. Why are they teaching you that? You’re just kids.’

‘War is a strategy for life and for business. And some of us will end up running militaries. And governments.’ He shrugged as casually as if he were talking about a maths test. ‘Look, this is what Cimmeria is about, to an extent. And everybody at this school is connected to it in some way.’

He gave her a direct look. ‘Except, apparently, you.’

‘Except me,’ she said.

‘So,’ he said, ‘what are you doing here?’

Allie sat still, staring at him for a long moment. Then she slid to the edge of the bed, poised to bounce off of it.

‘I don’t know. But I’m ready to find out. Are you with me?’

‘In theory …’ he said cautiously, ‘yes. What do you have in mind?’

Her face was animated with a mixture of excitement and determination. ‘You know how yesterday in the library we decided I should pretend nothing was going on and nobody was talking about me, while you tried to find out what was happening?’

He nodded.

‘Well, bollocks to that. Whatever is going on here, the place to find out is Isabelle’s office. Let’s go there. Now.’

‘No way!’ He looked shocked. ‘That’s insane, Allie. If we got caught in Isabelle’s office they’d kick us out. No question. We’d never get into a good university. It would ruin everything.’

‘But I know how we can avoid all of that,’ Allie said, jumping to her feet.

‘How?’

‘By not getting caught.’

She headed for the door.

‘Allie …’ She ignored his warning tone and opened the door, but he reached past her to close it again. ‘Hang on a minute.’

He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘What exactly are you looking for? What do you think you’ll find?’

‘Two things,’ she said. ‘Why Ruth died. And why I’m here.’

When he didn’t appear convinced, she raised her chin defiantly. ‘I’m going Carter. I’m doing this now. I’m not waiting for later, or for someone to maybe someday decide to tell me this information out of simple human kindness. That’s not going to happen. OK? So are you coming with me? Or is being the future president of Cimmeria Incorporated really that important to you?’

He stared into her eyes for a long minute, then seemed to make up his mind.

He opened the door.





TWENTY-THREE


‘Is that your foot? Or somebody else’s?’ Allie’s whisper was so quiet it seemed to fade into the inky darkness around her.

‘Of course it’s mine,’ Carter whispered. ‘Who else’s foot could it be?’

They were tiptoeing down the grand hallway from the staircase towards Isabelle’s office. Around them the old building was unnaturally quiet – it didn’t creak or settle. It was as if it held its breath.

Carter had explained that, as part of their training, Night School students patrolled the hallways of the school at night, but not constantly. So on the way down, they’d hidden in an alcove on the first floor and waited until a pair of shadows walked by, silent as death.

After that, Carter figured they had more than an hour before the patrol would be back again. So they’d slipped down the stairs, skipping the creaky step near the bottom.

Now they stood outside Isabelle’s nearly invisible office door, waiting until they could be certain that the headmistress wasn’t inside.

‘Why would she be in there?’ Allie whispered. ‘It’s one o’clock in the morning.’

Carter shrugged, but the look on his face told Allie it was possible.

After hearing nothing through the door, he finally decided it was OK to go in. With his hand on the door handle, he held her eyes.

‘Three,’ he whispered, ‘two … one …’ He turned the handle.

The door was locked.

Carter swore under his breath and Allie stifled a giggle. ‘Plan B?’

Reaching in his pocket he pulled out a twisted wire. ‘Two minutes,’ he said. ‘Time me.’

Leaning down he pushed the wire into a lock Allie couldn’t see, and moved it gently with his fingertips until without warning, the door gave way.

‘Whoa. Less than two,’ she said admiringly. ‘Where did you learn to do that?’

He gave her a look. ‘Where do you think?’

‘Church?’

He smiled and pushed the door. It swung open with a sound like a sigh. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘So,’ Allie whispered walking into the office, ‘how does burglary make you a better future prime minister?’