Night School: Resistance (Night School 4)

‘Rachel?’ Allie couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

Glancing up from her computer screen, Rachel gave a wave that seemed almost jaunty. ‘Helping!’

She was purposeful and in her element, and Allie felt a rush of gratitude to Dom for choosing her, making her part of the team.

Across the room, Raj and Isabelle were deep in conversation in front of a table spread with maps and papers.

Noticing them, Isabelle straightened. ‘Let’s get started,’ she said. ‘Are you ready, Dom?’

From behind a laptop Dom gave a terse nod. ‘Ready when you are.’

‘Carter.’ Leaving Isabelle, Raj walked over to them. ‘We’re going to run through the plan from start to finish. It’s a lot to take in but I have no doubt you can do this.’ Including Allie in his gaze he said, ‘Seeing the way the two of you worked together tonight reassured me. But we only have twenty-four hours to prepare. We’re going to need everything you’ve got. Both of you.’ Without waiting for their response, he turned to Dom. ‘Map one.’

Behind Dom and Rachel a map of Hampstead Heath appeared, projected on to the wall in vivid green detail. As Raj explained the route Allie had already memorised with Sylvain, she stared at the cartographer’s drawing. It had been coloured emerald green to illustrate its vibrancy but that only made it seem cartoonish.

She tried to remember what she knew of Hampstead but all she could recall was steep hills, big, expensive houses and tourists.

Not for the first time, a litany of all the things that could go wrong went through her mind. The places Nathaniel and Gabe could hide. The weapons they might carry.

Apprehension tightened its noose around her throat.

Taking slow breaths, she made herself focus on what Raj was saying as he pointed to the road where they’d be dropped and traced out their path into the park with steady hands, talking in a low, calm voice that proclaimed his faith in them. His belief they could get through this.

And they would get through this, she told herself.

They had to.





35





Thirty-five





The next morning, Allie fought to stay awake in class. They’d worked on plans for the parley until three in the morning. Carter absorbed information quickly but Raj insisted he have it all down perfectly, so they’d gone through it all over and over again.

She couldn’t even remember climbing into bed.

By the time Zelazny walked into the history classroom, his arms filled with stacks of books, she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Even through a haze of exhaustion, though, his demeanour caught her attention. He didn’t shout at them to be quiet in his usual way or fix them with a glare. He’d been subdued ever since Jerry’s exposure as Nathaniel’s man. As if he’d believed they’d all failed.

Allie had never expected to miss his bluster, but she did.

‘All this term,’ the history teacher said, as the students fell silent, ‘we’ve been talking about the years of the British Empire. But today is an unusual day.’ Setting the books down on his desk, he studied the students sombrely. ‘There’s no point in pretending. You all know about the parley with Nathaniel.’

Allie’s breath caught. Outside of Night School, none of the instructors were talking openly about it. She glanced over to where Carter sat next to her, but his gaze was fixed on Zelazny; a small frown line creased his forehead.

The other students seemed similarly surprised. Two Night School students murmured disapprovingly in the back. The non-Night School students looked fascinated. Hopeful they’d learn more.

At the front of the room, the history teacher was still talking. ‘Most of your teachers will act as if nothing is happening. They want to distract you. Keep you calm. I intend to do something different.’ He began walking around the room, placing a book with a black cover on each desk. When he reached Allie he paused, holding her gaze. ‘I want to talk to you about surviving.’

The room filled with the whisper of pages against desks as the students hurriedly picked up the books to see what they were.

The volume was slim and light in Allie’s hand, almost insubstantial. The elaborate gold letters on the front, almost gaudy against the black, read: Sun Tzu: The Art of War.

Zelazny had returned to the front of the class now, where he held up his own copy.

‘Sun Tzu was a general in China in the sixth century,’ the teacher explained. ‘His theories are still taught in military schools, studied by generals, used in combat. I think they could be useful to us, too.’ He leaned back against his desk. ‘Carter, read from page ten, please.’

The other two Night School students at the back of the room exchanged a glance as, still frowning, Carter flipped the pages in his book. For a second he scanned the words silently.