Night School: Resistance (Night School 4)

With clear reluctance, he nodded. ‘I think so.’


A frond of grief uncurled inside her, taking up its familiar territory near her heart.

She’d hardly known her grandmother. But she was family. And she had, from the very first meeting, seemed to believe in Allie. To have faith in her.

Now there was no one left in her family who felt that way.



It took them nearly an hour of walking to reach the address Raj had made them memorise.

Number 38 Carlton Lane was a nondescript three-storey terrace building with a dingy sign hanging out front that said ‘The Drop Inn B&B’.

‘Bit dodgy,’ Carter said, as they looked up at the front door. ‘I wonder why they chose this place?’

‘No idea.’ Allie looked around as if the answer could be found elsewhere on this insalubrious street. Even at this hour, the bar on the corner had customers. And they seemed to be getting in a fight. ‘This is Kilburn. It’s all dodgy.’

‘What’s Kilburn?’ Carter asked.

‘Where we are,’ she said. Then, not wanting to explain north London neighbourhoods right now, she changed the subject. ‘Want to go first? I’ll keep the door open in case we have to leg it.’

She was certain this was the right address but Raj had said nothing about a B&B. He hadn’t mentioned that the street was scary nor told them who would be inside. Maybe he’d never really thought they’d need to use it.

As Carter walked up the stairs and pressed the buzzer, she stayed a step behind him, keeping an eye on the street.

Nothing happened.

Carter shot her a look over his shoulder and she shrugged.

He pressed it again.

This time they both heard the heavy footsteps on the stairs inside. Then the metallic clunk of three locks being opened. The door was yanked open to the extent a protective chain would allow.

A dark face glared out at them. ‘It’s one o’clock in the bleeding morning.’

The accent was classic north London. The man looked cross. He sounded cross. And he was big.

When Carter hesitated, Allie stepped up beside him.

‘We’re guests of Raj Patel.’ This was what Raj had told them to say. But she added apologetically, ‘We’re sorry to bother you so late.’

The man slammed the door in their face.

Allie and Carter exchanged puzzled looks. Maybe this was the wrong place after all.

Then the chain slid loose inside and the door opened wide enough to reveal the tall man in a blue dressing gown.

‘You better come in.’





40





Forty





Carter and Allie stepped inside cautiously. The man let them pass, then closed the door, flipped the three locks shut again and braced the door with a metal bar.

Allie watched this elaborate procedure with interest. One thing was certain, this place was secure.

The entrance hall had once been grand. It had a beautiful old tiled floor, stained-glass windows and carved wood. But it was run down . The paint needed touching up and two lights had burned out on the stairs behind them.

The man turned and looked them both up and down.

‘I’m Sharif,’ he said after a thorough inspection. ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘Uh … I’m Carter,’ Carter said.

Allie kept her hands in her pockets. Her eyes darted to the door now so very comprehensively locked.

Trust Raj, she told herself. But it wasn’t easy.

‘Allie,’ she said tersely.

‘That’s all you need to tell me.’ The man headed down the hallway, motioning for them to follow. His slippers made a scuffing sound on the tile floor. ‘If you’re here, something went wrong. I’m sorry to hear it.’

There was kindness in his voice. Allie relaxed a little.

He stepped into a windowless kitchen, and turned on the switch. Harsh fluorescent lights came on with an industrial buzz. It reminded Allie of a hospital: white walls, white cupboards, white floors. Everything was spotless.

Opening a drawer, he located a black key on a silver ring and held it out to them. After a brief hesitation, Carter accepted it.

‘Go to room eleven,’ Sharif instructed. ‘It’s at the top of the stairs. Lock the door behind you. Don’t come out for anyone you don’t know. And I mean anyone. Including me. Go now.’

They hurried to the long steep staircase that ascended into darkness. Behind them, Sharif was turning out the lights.

Halfway up the stairs, Allie turned back. ‘Thank you, Sharif.’

His hand on the light switch, the man looked up at her.

‘No need for that,’ he said. ‘I owe Raj Patel my life. I imagine you do, too.’



Room eleven was in a converted attic, three flights up. It was pitch dark at the top of the stairs, and Carter fumbled with the key for some time, trying to get it into a lock he couldn’t see.

When he did get it unlocked, the door was so heavy he had to put his shoulder against it to open it.