Storm and Stone

by Joss Stirling

  ‘Call yourself my friend?’ Kieran threw his sweaty sports kit at Joe’s head.

  Joe sat up from his computer on the desk in their shared room and brushed the trackies to the floor. ‘How’s your plié?’

  Kieran told him succinctly what he could do with himself.

  ‘I’ll take that under advisement.’

  ‘Not a complete waste of time though.’ Kieran dropped his art folder on his bed and went to his plant research on the window sill. They needed more space. He pushed Joe’s books off the shelf and onto the floor.

  ‘Do you have to do that?’ Joe groaned as Kieran began distributing the pitcher plants, lobster-pot, snap and flypaper traps around the room, chucking things out of his way.

  ‘This is important.’

  Joe went to move a flowerpot off his bedside table.

  ‘Don’t touch!’ Kieran said with a snap in his own voice.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s in a carefully calibrated position. I’m going to release the bluebottles.’ He got the container out of the cupboard where he had been storing the flies bought from a pet shop. Intended for lizards, they would do just as well for his purposes.

  ‘You are not letting them out while I’m in here—that’s gross.’ Joe picked up some oranges from the bowl beside his computer and began to juggle—he liked to keep his skill sharpened.

  ‘Not gross. It is scientific. I want to see which plant is most successful predator and how long it takes to digest the flies.’

  ‘Can’t you read about that in a book?’ Joe let the fruit fall back into the bowl, throwing the last from behind his back.

  Kieran gave Joe a ‘do-I-look-like-someone-who-relies-on-second-hand-information?’ stare.

  Joe cast his eyes to the ceiling, seeking patience. ‘Are you going to explain why exactly you are turning our bedroom into a haven for flesh-eating plants?’

  ‘It is important in an old case I was reviewing.’ He tapped the flies awake.

  Joe snatched them from him. ‘You can do that later. Think about this case for the moment. Tell me why Dance was not a complete waste of time.’

  ‘I was paired with Raven Stone.’

  Joe sat back in his chair, wheels rolling him away from the desk, removing the flies from Kieran’s reach. ‘You should be thanking me, man!’

  ‘I’ll grant you one thing: I repent of every bad word I ever said about leotards. But, Joe, I’m trying to tell you something. Her roommate hasn’t come back from the spring holiday. Raven went on to say that other students have also gone missing for odd periods and the names all correlated with the parents we are investigating: Hedda, Johnny—I’m guessing his surname is Minter as there’s only two Johnnys in the school; Siobhan Green, and others I didn’t get her to list.’

  ‘What’s the name of her friend?’

  ‘Gina Carr.’

  Joe entered the information into their mission files. ‘Daughter of American diplomat currently posted to London. Military attaché.’

  ‘Another high flyer.’

  ‘Parents of most of these students are, but it does fit the pattern. We’ve nothing on him yet.’

  ‘Then maybe we’re in at the start of the process for Carr. We should check if there’s any hint of ransoms being demanded or blackmail—they could be extorting favours from the parents in return for the safety of the children.’

  ‘I guess. But why leave the children in the school when they are released? Hedda is strutting around the place, no sign she was the victim of some ransom plot. You would’ve thought the first thing a parent would do is take the kid and run a mile in the opposite direction once they were free.’

  Kieran had to agree with Joe: it didn’t make sense and strayed beyond the bounds of the original mission they had been given. A concerned government official, very senior in her field, had called in YDA to investigate. She told Isaac, chief of their agency, that she thought something serious was going on. Strange decisions were being made. A Siberian gas pipeline had been rerouted against all expectations. A senior government official of a Middle Eastern country had been made president of the national bank with no previous hints that he was up for the position. Telecoms contracts had been sold at below the market price. The only link she could find was that all the people who had the final say on the decisions had children who were students in the Union of International Schools. He and Joe had enrolled expecting to find some networking happening via school events and friendship circles, deals done in backrooms on Sports Day, not this more sinister turn of events involving the kids themselves.

  ‘Let me look again at the list of pupils and see if I can identify from school records those that have gone missing. I’ll keep in the ones who’ve come back but highlight their names.’

  Joe knew better than to refuse Kieran when he was in puzzle-solving mode. ‘Coming right up.’

  ‘I’ll cross-reference them with the parents involved in corrupt practices—I’m sure the answer must lie between the two. And I’ll text Isaac to tell him to put eyes on Carr—see if he reveals anything.’

  ‘Here you go.’ Joe dropped the printout of names on his desk. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Got Biology next.’

  ‘Rub it in, why don’t you.’ Kieran shot him a look from under his brows. ‘You don’t happen to know any good sources on dance—a handbook or something?’

  ‘Just so happens I’m an expert, though street dance is more my thing.’ So why wasn’t Joe doing the AS? Oh yeah, because this was about humiliating him. ‘What kind of dance, Key?’

  ‘The teacher called it “Modern”.’ Kieran tapped at his keyboard, starting to run a trace on Gina’s phone. Having so many tasks to do made his brain purr with pleasure: finally a challenge worthy of him.

  ‘We thought you might need help so I put a few DVDs in my suitcase.’ Joe threw him some recent dance movies which Kieran plucked out of the air without looking up. ‘Watch and learn, my friend.’

  Today was tanking. It had started with another envelope under the door—same picture but this time with her head in a noose. Being paired with Kieran had been the cherry on the already very stale iced bun of a morning, torn as she was between attraction and irritation when dealing with him. Wanting to offload her angst on some friendly ears, Raven checked in at the school office to see if they’d heard from Gina or her parents. She found her grandfather chatting to the secretary.

  ‘Hey, granddad, how’s your day so far?’ She adored him so much; every time she saw him shuffling about the school in his baggy blue boiler suit, she felt a little surge of warmth. She didn’t care what the others thought of his job. She could just imagine Mr Arrogant Storm looking down his nose at her granddad. So what? Granddad was her only close family left and she was determined to appreciate every second of his company. He, however, was stuck in the notion that she preferred her school friends and made sure he kept out of her way no matter how many times she told him different.

  ‘I’m fine, love. How about you? Settled into your routine?’

  Raven shrugged. She didn’t want to burden him with the foul atmosphere between her and the other girls in her year and the stupid notes; he already worried enough about her and his health was touch-and-go at the best of times.

  He bent a little closer, noticing her attempts to hide her bruise with make-up. ‘How did you hurt your eye, Raven?’

  ‘Accident. S’OK. Gina’s not back yet though. I was wondering if Mrs Marshall has had a message.’

  ‘You must be missing your partner in crime.’ At least Granddad understood.

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  The secretary leafed through her phone calls. ‘Nothing, dear. Don’t worry; she’ll turn up soon.’

  ‘Has the school contacted her parents?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t share that information with you.’ Her smile was brittle, setting off alarm bells.

  ‘Do you mean they have and that something’s wrong at home?’ Unlike other students, Raven knew to expect bad news. The phon
e call at two in the morning. The car returning from the hospital with only one occupant.

  Mrs Marshall turned away, moving the late register to a different table. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Raven.’

  ‘I’m her best friend, Mrs Marshall. She wouldn’t mind me knowing.’ Desperation made her voice catch.

  ‘School policy. Haven’t you got a lesson you should be in?’

  Her grandfather put his hand on her arm. ‘Raven.’ His calming tone was enough. She knew she had a tendency to fly off the handle; he was skilled at reeling her back in.

  ‘Sorry.’ Deep breath. ‘Yes, I’ve French next. See you later.’

  Raven hurried to class. She couldn’t get past the niggling worry that something had happened to Gina.

  Entering French last, Raven took the seat next to Kieran’s friend.

  ‘Hi, Joe, how’re you doing?’ She brushed away a bluebottle that had landed on the desk.

  ‘Much better now you’re here.’ He winked, but Raven sensed his flirty manner was reflex rather than personal; something a wise girl enjoyed and didn’t take too seriously.

  ‘Why thank you.’ She got out her folder.

  ‘Heard you were paired with Kieran this morning.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘How’d he do?’

  Was Joe smirking? Raven wasn’t so keen on anyone who made fun of Dance; it was her hardest AS level by far. ‘He did OK.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Surely you know he’s a good dancer? He did it at your old school.’ Hang on: Joe had said they were expelled for blowing up the lab. If Kieran was doing arts subjects, why was he playing with chemicals? ‘He did do Dance, right? You’re not trying something on here?’

  Joe frowned. ‘What, us? No! Why would we? Yeah, he’s a good dancer—good at everything.’

  ‘You see I wouldn’t be exactly thrilled to find I’m caught up in some joke.’

  ‘No joke—trust me.’ Joe swivelled to Adewale on his other side. ‘Hey, nice to meet you: I’m Joe.’

  Ignore me, why don’t you, but I’m on to your game. Raven decided it was worth pushing Kieran a little harder on his dance credentials. If school was going to be in the sucks-out-loud zone socially, then at least her work shouldn’t suffer.

  She eavesdropped on Joe’s conversation with his neighbour. ‘What do your parents do, Adewale?’

  ‘My father works in the City. Banking. Yours?’

  ‘Mom’s in rehab; Dad’s in prison.’ Joe drew a cat’s face in the margin of his empty pad.

  Adewale laughed. ‘You’re kidding me?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Adewale swallowed his chuckles. ‘Hey, I’m sorry, man.’

  ‘No problem. Gotta laugh or I’d cry. My godfather swooped in and rescued me, which is why I’m here.’

  ‘And who’s your godfather?’

  ‘He’s a colonel in the British Ministry of Defence.’ Joe revved up his smile another gear. ‘And at least good old dad’s not a banker. Talk about unpopular.’

  The Nigerian grinned back, put at ease by Joe’s joke. ‘I find it hard to live that down, I can tell you. My mother’s a nurse—how’s that?’

  ‘Now you can hold your head up with pride.’ Joe turned to Raven. ‘See, he’s a good guy really.’

  ‘I knew that already. Hey, Adewale—did you have a good holiday?’ asked Raven.

  ‘Not bad, thanks. I don’t suppose my watch turned up over the break, did it? Your granddad said he’d look.’

  ‘He didn’t mention it so I guess not. Sorry.’

  ‘I’ll have to tell Dad then and get him to contact the insurers. He won’t be pleased. It was a Cartier. Looks like it was stolen rather than just lost.’

  ‘That’s rough.’ Joe grimaced in sympathy. ‘I’d better keep my Rolex locked up if there’s a thief here.’

  The teacher called their attention to the white board where she was running through a movie version of their set text, Le Malade Imaginaire. Raven began to take notes but she couldn’t forget the conversation she had overheard. Joe’s dad in prison? Really? And how did he end up with a British godfather paying for his education? And what about Kieran’s parents? Were they also in trouble? Was that what brought the boys together? She could hardly ask as Joe hadn’t been talking to her. That’d be rude.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Joe said in a low voice.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He put a body and tail on his cat, and then started on an owl. ‘I know you heard what I said. I’ve not got a problem with it. What my parents have done is nothing to me now. And my godfather’s really great.’

  ‘When does he get out?’

  ‘Dad?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Never, I hope.’

  That meant he’d done something very bad. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It was good that he was caught. I owe NYPD my life.’

  New York Police Department. ‘I’m still sorry—has to be tough.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And your godfather—does he make a point of helping boys with no parents to support them?’

  Joe gave the owl a miserable expression. Was that a beatbox he was perching on? ‘Sometimes, yeah. That’s how he found me. But he’s also a good friend of Kieran’s family.’

  ‘Kieran’s family?’

  ‘Oh yeah. I’ve met them. Grand house, classy ancestors– they’ve got the full English upper crust vibe going on. Kieran can’t bear it. He thinks you should get by on brain power and refuses to use his background to get ahead.’

  ‘Wow, does he have a title?’

  ‘Let’s just say, his parents are welcome in the Ascot Royal Enclosure any time, but if you mention it, he’d hit you with one of his demolition jobs on the class system of this country and freeze you out of his life for all eternity.’

  Raven didn’t quite get Kieran’s attitude as she thought that, if she had a posh family, she’d be tempted to make the most of it. ‘OK, got it.’

  Joe drew a circle round the owl then made it into a moat. ‘Funny thing is, he’s more ashamed of his privilege than I am of my tough start in life.’

  ‘Are you two quite finished?’ asked Mrs Gordenstone, the teacher, flapping a copy of the play in front of them. ‘Or shall I put this class on pause while you get better acquainted?’

  ‘I apologize,’ Joe bathed the teacher in one of his smiles. Her prickly posture relaxed a little. ‘Raven was just helping me catch up.’

  ‘That’s all very well, Mr Masters, but now is the time to concentrate on today’s lesson.’

  ‘Bien sûr, madame.’

  Reprimand skilfully diverted, Joe settled back in his seat. He checked his watch.

  ‘Late for a hot date?’ teased Raven when he checked it again a minute later.

  ‘But, sugar, I ain’t asked you yet.’

  Raven laughed at his hickabilly tone.

  ‘I’m just expecting a phone call,’ Joe explained. ‘I’m gonna have to cut class early. Cover for me?’

  ‘And say what?’

  ‘I’ve come down with an imaginary illness?’

  ‘Yeah, like that’d work in this class seeing what we’re studying.’

  ‘Migraine. Migraine is a good one. Impossible to disprove.’

  ‘Expert at this, are you? OK, I’ll cover for you.’

  Joe slid his books back in his bag and left his seat, making his excuses to the teacher with a very convincing act. He was out of the class two minutes before twelve.

  For a couple of newcomers, supposedly good at all their subjects, Kieran and Joe weren’t that interested in taking their classes. Come to think of it, they were here because they had got themselves expelled from their last school. Looked like they might be on the same track.

  Isaac’s face came on screen in the Skype box. Brush cut blond hair and laser blue eyes, he had the look of a man who had been round the block a few times, but at a hundred miles an hour, tyres screaming, before taking down a few scumbags.

&n
bsp; ‘Hey, guys, how’s it going?’ Isaac was fiercely protective of his trainees. If they messed up, he would shout at them, then take the rap. There was not a hint of a politician about him: the buck stopped with him every time.

  ‘Good, thanks, Isaac.’ Joe took a seat in front of the monitor, first moving a Venus flytrap off the chair. Kieran quickly transferred it to a similar spot so the results wouldn’t be ruined. ‘Key’s turned up something weird—students here are disappearing during the school term with no explanation, and there’s a link to the parents we’re investigating.’

  ‘More than a link—the correlation is ninety-five per cent,’ added Kieran. ‘The one aberration was a case of meningitis so I think that’s a genuine exception.’

  ‘Latest is a girl called Gina Carr; dad is in the American embassy in London. Key’s done a report. We’d like you to put a tail on Carr—see if he starts acting against his country’s interests.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that and I look forward to reading the report. Good work. I guess you are exploring the obvious explanations for this—blackmail and the rest?’

  ‘Of course, but nothing is clicking just yet,’ admitted Joe.

  ‘Early days. You’ve made more progress than I expected.’ Isaac’s eyes lifted to the left of Joe to fix on Kieran standing behind his chair. ‘How’s it going?’ Isaac knew that, like most Owls, Kieran did not suffer fools gladly and was less adept at slotting in to a new environment than Joe.

  ‘I’m doing fine, sir.’ Kieran decided not to rat on his mate about the dance thing. ‘Got one more lead handed us—we were given Gina Carr’s number, the girl who has gone missing over Easter. I fed the details in to our tracking programme and the phone is reading as being pretty much on our doorstep, at that fancy annex owned by the Union of International Schools.’

  Isaac drummed his fingers on his desk. ‘You mean the manor?’

  ‘Yes. They call it a sport and leisure facility to house students who don’t want to go home during vacations when the school is closed.’

  ‘Interesting. That place needs a closer look.’

  ‘It’s supposed to be off-limits to us during term time as they use it for conferences, due to open again in the summer to run courses for the students. It’s about five miles from here—the other side of the farm that also belongs to the UIS. The website suggests it is more like an exclusive hotel spa than a school camp. I’ve looked at satellite imagery and it seems to be all leisure-related—pools, golf course, tennis courts—nothing to spark suspicion. Very luxurious.’