“Good evening, boys. Welcome to the Antarctic Ball,” said the footman as the boys jumped down.
“Hi!” said Chris and Rex, waving to their carriage driver and hurrying past the footman to catch up with Sir Bentley. Behind them the other children jumped out of their carriage and ran over to them, but before they had a chance to say anything to one another, Sir Bentley stopped them.
“I know you are all terribly excited, but I have a lot to discuss with you before the other guests arrive. I don’t suppose you’ll listen to a word I say until you’ve had a chance to look around, so I’m going to give you five minutes—and I mean five—and then I want you to meet me back here and we can get started.”
Sir Bentley had barely finished his sentence before the children ran off through the archway and into the great hall of the palace.
“Wow!” said Lexi as they all stopped dead in their tracks.
Chris, standing next to her, looked up, awestruck. For a moment nobody said a word. Directly in front of them, in the center of the vast room, was a circular wall of ice from which rose a life-size ice whale, which spouted water high up into the vaulted ceiling of the palace and back down into the black rippling waters contained below.
“I can’t work out how it doesn’t fall over,” said Philip, walking up to the fountain and looking up for wires. “It just doesn’t make sense,” he said.
“It’s magic,” said Daisy.
“No such thing as magic,” said Philip, now peering intently into the water.
“Of course there is,” said Daisy, and while Philip didn’t look satisfied with this answer, he let her lead him away to join the rest of them, who were standing at one end of a table of ice that ran far into the distance, along the back wall, and back round the other side. Each setting was laid with crystal plates, glasses, silver cutlery, and a carefully folded white cloth napkin on which lay a place card with the name of the guest handwritten in gold ink.
“I wonder where we’re sitting,” said Lexi, reading the names as she walked along the table.
“We don’t have time,” said Chris. “We have to be back in three minutes—it’ll take forever to find our names in here. Let’s look around more.”
They all nodded in agreement and spent the next few minutes running around and trying to take in everything—the ice statues of the animals of the Antarctic; the carved replica of James Cook’s ship, the Endeavour, atop an ice plinth behind the top table; the tunnel onto the iced lake outside, lined with ice skates for the children to help themselves to; and their favorite—through an archway toward the back of the palace—the ice cream room, filled with iced vats of every flavor ice cream surrounded by hundreds of glass bowls filled with toppings.
Out of time and having explored only half of the palace, the children rushed back to Sir Bentley, who was surrounded by guards in white uniforms and police officers.
“Ah, here they are,” said Sir Bentley, motioning for the children to join him next to Ron and John and a group of other guards that Chris didn’t recognize.
“This is Christopher, Rex, Lexi, Philip, Sebastian, and Daisy,” said Sir Bentley. “They will be stationed at the entrance until the people they are escorting arrive—except for Christopher, who will be accompanying me, and Sebastian and Rex, who will stay with security at the entrance for the entire evening with Ron and John.”
Ron and John both nodded their heads in unison.
“I’m not going to go into any more detail, but these six children have been briefed to look out for the boy in the photograph that you have all been given. They have full security clearance, and if they report anything suspicious to you, I expect you all to act immediately, without question. Is everybody clear on that?”
All the guards except Ron and John nodded, though Chris could see from the way they were looking at him that some of them were skeptical about following instructions from a group of twelve-year-olds.
“Good,” said Sir Bentley. “The carriages will begin arriving in five minutes. The VIP guests, including the prime minister and other heads of state, will arrive at the same time as the invited children, so you must all keep your wits about you at all times. Right—everybody to their posts, and let’s make sure that everything runs smoothly tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” they all said, dispersing in every direction.
Chris and the other pupils followed Ron and John over to the security desk at the entrance and waited. As the minutes ticked by, a growing sense of unease came over them all, as they were suddenly aware that, at any time, all their training could be called into use.
From behind them the sound of the orchestra started to play, filling the room with classical music, and up ahead, from beyond the lake, Chris saw the procession of glass carriages come into view.
“I’m scared,” whispered Daisy.
“It’s all right; I’m sure nothing’s going to happen,” said Chris, though he felt just as nervous as Daisy looked.
The nerves eased off as the guests began to arrive and the room started to fill with excited chatter. The orchestra played as the waiting staff walked round with silver trays of colorful hors d’oeuvres and drinks. Excited children ran around the palace, cones filled with scoop upon scoop of every flavor ice cream, stopping only to stare in wonder at the fantastic statues of ice, while the pupils of Myers Holt could only watch in envy.
Clarissa Teller was the first familiar face that came through the entrance. She greeted Chris and Rex warmly, hugging them both, and was introduced to Lexi, who led her off to give her a tour of the palace. Soon after, to great excitement from the guests that had already arrived, the prime minister and his wife walked in. He smiled as he walked past security and straight over to Sir Bentley.
“How are you, sir?” asked the prime minister.
“Very well, Edward, very well.”
“Any developments?” asked the prime minister.
“None. But we have everything well taken care of. Just enjoy your evening—we’ll do the rest.”
“Excellent. So where are my two chaperones, Philip and Daisy?” asked the prime minister.
Philip and Daisy stepped forward, looking starstruck and slightly nervous.
“Ah, wonderful! I’ve heard I’m in good hands with you two—is that right?”
“Yes, sir,” said Philip.
“Good. Well, come with me; we have lots of people to meet.”
Philip and Daisy waved to Chris, Rex, and Sebastian and hurried off behind the prime minister, who was already by the fountain, shaking hands with the prime minister of Canada.
After a while, and following a quick word with Rex and Sebastian about staying vigilant, Sir Bentley motioned for Chris to follow him away from the entrance. Chris did as told without a word and stood dutifully at Sir Bentley’s side as he walked around greeting guests. Every so often, Chris looked over at Rex and Sebastian, who were staring intently at each child standing in line at the entrance. He was keenly aware that at any moment they might need help.
• CHAPTER NINETEEN •
Ernest stood in line, tugging at his bow tie uncomfortably, his nerves growing as he neared the wall of security blocking the entrance to the ball. Behind him, some fifty feet away, was his mother, standing alone, and following in a carriage behind was his brother, Mortimer. Ernest fought the urge not to look back at them for reassurance.
“We’ll do best if we split up,” his mother had said that morning, giving Ernest strict instructions to ignore them when they arrived at the ball. “It would be impossible to avoid notice if identical twin brothers walked in together.”
“Yes, Mother,” Ernest had said, and at the time he had felt thrilled that his mother had trusted him to work on his own.
The group of four girls in front of him skipped forward and were waved through after having their invitations scanned, leaving Ernest to approach the desk on his own, head bowed low.
“Welcome to the Antarctic Ball,” said the security guard, taking the invitation
from him without looking up. He scanned the bar code, and there was a loud beep. Ernest held his breath. The light went green.
“Enjoy your evening,” said the guard, holding out the invitation. Ernest reached out and took hold of it, but just as he was about to take it out of the guard’s hand, the man looked up and a look of recognition flashed across his face.
Ernest quickly looked the man in the eyes and tried to enter his Reception, but his heart was pounding, and he struggled to keep focused.
“You!” the man shouted before Ernest had a chance to pull himself together, and within seconds he was being flung down on the ground and his hands were being pulled back behind him and secured with handcuffs. Ernest looked up in horror as the biggest man he had ever seen walked over to him and lifted him up horizontally, placing him under his enormous arm as if he were just a rather large book.
Ernest heard gasps from onlookers as he struggled to get away, but the guard didn’t flinch, and his arm stayed firmly locked, pinning Ernest’s arms to his side. Though unable to move, Ernest did manage to twist his head round enough to see two boys, both dressed in white tuxedos and one of whom he recognized from their surveillance at Lady Magenta’s house, running over toward him. He looked behind him, out into the night, and saw his mother standing in line, watching him calmly. Panicking and realizing that there was no way he was going to be able to escape without help, Ernest tried to send her a message, but instead he heard her thoughts, as clearly as if she were whispering them into his ear.
“Good. He’s out of the way, as planned. Now the other can get on with his work; then I’ll be rid of both of them.”
Ernest felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. He suddenly realized that the last few years had meant nothing to his mother, and that he and Mortimer were no more than pawns in her plan, to be dispensed with like unwanted rubbish once she’d done what she had set out to do. He tried to scream to warn Mortimer, but no sound left his mouth as the familiar sound of ringing in his ears washed over him and rendered him speechless. He looked up at the boys and recognized their blank stares. At that moment he knew they were standing in his mind, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“I’ll bring him round,” said the gruff voice of the guard carrying him. Ernest looked up helplessly as he was lifted to his feet and dragged out toward a side exit, surrounded by policemen and guards. Guests stared at him as he passed them, and although he could see their mouths moving and the orchestra behind them, all Ernest could hear in his mind was the sound of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” being sung loudly by the voices of the two boys trailing behind him, blocking any chance he had of using his Ability to get away.
The giant guard carried Ernest out into the cold night air toward a waiting police van with its lights flashing blue. He heard the faint sound of the men talking and watched the police van doors open.
“Take him to the cell at Waterloo and don’t take your eyes off him for a moment,” said a skinny guard in sunglasses. “He may be a child, but he’s extremely dangerous.”
“We’ve got it all under control, Ron; this is a police matter now. You two go back to the others and we’ll take it from here,” said a policeman, climbing into the van. Ernest felt himself being lifted up into the van, and then the giant man laid him down on the metal floor. Turning his head, he saw the two boys taking a seat at the back of the van and watched as the doors closed. The floor of the van rumbled as the engine started up.
• • •
Fifteen minutes later the van doors opened, and Ernest was lifted back onto his feet and down into the police parking lot.
“You boys are all done here now,” said a faint voice that seemed to come from an older man in police uniform in front of him. “One of my men will take you back to the ball.”
Ernest saw that the two boys had heard what the man said, but they remained still and staring at him.
“I said, you boys are dismissed. We’ll take the boy up to the cell.”
Ernest felt the sound of “Twinkle, Twinkle” fade as the boys turned to face the man.
“We have to stay here until he’s locked up,” said one of the boys, “just in case.”
“Just in case what?” said the man, clearly annoyed. “I think between five men we can handle a twelve-year-old boy. Arthur, take these boys back to Hyde Park.”
“Yes, sir. Come with me, lads.”
“No! We can’t—”
Ernest, his mind suddenly clear and his thoughts on his brother, realized that this might be his only opportunity. He looked over at two of the largest men and, focusing his mind, sent them flying back suddenly into the rest of the group. The two boys fell to the ground beneath the mass of bodies, and Ernest turned and ran over to the driver’s side of the van. He looked at the ignition and used his Ability to make it move forward. Spinning the van around, Ernest felt the change of gears in the van, and he sped off past the gates as the men struggled to their feet and tried to run after him.
• CHAPTER TWENTY •
Meanwhile, back at the ball, Sir Bentley was congratulating his security team.
“Absolutely fantastic news! I’ll leave after dinner to interview the boy. Christopher, I think it would be useful if you came along with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“In the meantime, you can all relax and enjoy yourselves. Dinner starts after the speeches in twenty minutes. I’m going to go and have a word with the prime minister and tell him that everything has been taken care of.”
Chris, Philip, Daisy, and Lexi ran off toward the tunnel to grab some skates and hurried out onto the lake of ice outside to join the hundreds of children gliding around, until the sound of a single trumpet called them to dinner and they joined the line to get back in.
“How do we know where to sit?” asked Daisy. “Do we have to check each place?”
“There’s a table plan next to the polar bear statue—on the wall—it’s carved into the ice. I saw it earlier,” said Philip, as they walked back into the main hall.
The guests were all seated in order of their carriage number, which made it easy for them to find their names, once they had managed to jostle their way past the crowds to the wall. Carriages two and three were sat at the right side of the room, with the exception of Sir Bentley, who sat at the top table alongside Clarissa Teller and another woman they didn’t recognize—a first-time attendee to the ball called Dulcia Genever, who had in the last year, for reasons unknown, matched Clarissa Teller’s substantial donations to various children’s charities around the country. Her generosity had earned her a coveted seat at the top table alongside other dignitaries and donors. It had also earned her the trust of the organizers of the ball, who were about to find out just how misplaced their trust had been.
• • •
Chris took his seat and poured himself a glass of water from the crystal jug in front of him. He looked around in wonder at his surroundings, taking everything in.
Finally the seven hundred plus guests were seated, and the orchestra stopped playing. Everybody hushed and watched as a man dressed in a white suit and elaborate white feathered hat walked over to the podium at the side of the room and rang a small gold bell three times. The sound, amplified through the microphone, bounced around the walls.
“Esteemed guests, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the Antarctic Ball. Without further ado, I would like to welcome to the podium your host for this evening, the prime minister of the United Kingdom, Edward Banks.”
The entire room applauded as the prime minister thanked the master of ceremonies and stepped up to the podium.
“Good evening to you all, and welcome. Two hundred seventeen years ago, this ball was established in order to give children from all walks of life and around the United Kingdom a chance to learn about the great achievements of the British explorer James Cook and find out more about the places he discovered. Nowadays, thanks to the power of radio, television, and other media, our knowledge of the
world is far greater, and while we still honor the achievements of James Cook every year, we also use this event as an opportunity to acknowledge the generosity of people who choose to donate . . .”
The prime minister stopped and raised his hands to his ears. Chris froze and watched, his heart in his mouth, as the prime minister looked up at Sir Bentley, his eyes wide with horror, and began to sing:
“Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he. Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he. Old King . . .”
All the guests turned to each other in confusion. Chris saw the paramedics at the other side of the hall scramble to grab their bags. They ran over to the prime minister, who was now shouting at the top of his voice.
“Someone’s using their Ability,” said Daisy, in a horrified whisper. “What should we do?”
Chris looked over at Daisy and saw the terror in her face.
“The block’s not working!” he said, as the prime minister’s voice began to fade.
“Do something, Chris!”
And then, with a jolt of clarity, Chris suddenly realized what he had to do. Any nerves or fear he had felt disappeared instantly, replaced with a complete sense of calm and focus. He looked around as the rest of the audience watched silently while the prime minister struggled to regain his composure.
Chris turned to Lexi.
“Put a block in the prime minister’s head! Do it now!” instructed Chris, as he pushed his chair back and stood up, scanning the face of each child seated in turn. Seeing nothing, he began to walk around the tables as quickly as he could without bringing any attention to himself. And then, suddenly, he spotted a lone figure in a dark alcove behind the orchestra. Chris stopped dead in his tracks and ducked. He squinted, and the figure started to come into focus. It was him—the boy from the photograph—standing completely still and staring in the direction of the prime minister, who was now clutching at his throat as he leaned on the podium for support.
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