“I let Aisha win because I didn’t want her to cry again. Sorry.”
“You need to toughen up.” Dad drops the folder back on the desk. “I hoped my disappearance would help with that.”
I squash the urge to pick up the folder and bash Dad over the head with it.
“I thought your disappearance was about making the world a better place,” I tell him. “Now it’s about torturing me into becoming a tougher person?”
Dad moves the folder out of reach. “This may be hard to understand now, but when you’re older you’ll realise this has been a valuable life lesson. I never had to explain myself to you before. You’ve been spending too much time with your aunt and your sister.”
“Again. Whose fault is that?”
Dad shakes his head sorrowfully. “So much negativity.”
“Me? What about the negative things you and ‘Mallory’ have done? Let’s start with using my calculations to blow up a portaloo and fake your death.”
“I apologise. I should have trusted my own equations.”
“The equations aren’t the part I have a problem with, Dad! But if we’re focusing on calculations, you didn’t mention the portaloo had air vents. Without them, the explosion would have been far worse.”
“I pointed that out to Mallory.” Dad shuffles things around in his drawer. “She said it was ironic, people being saved by the smell of their own—”
“It’s not ironic,” I interrupt. “It’s horrible. Someone could have been killed.”
“But they weren’t – unless you count the old me.”
“Where did all that blood come from, Dad? It had to be yours – the police tested it – but that much blood can’t have come from a small cut on your foot.”
“I took it with me.”
The glass on the portaloo floor.
“Test tubes!” I realise. “You got one of your laboratory minions to take test tubes of your blood and then you left them in the toilet with the explosives to make the blood splatter everywhere.”
“Good girl! See? You can work things out if you try.”
I shake my head. “All this planning, all this risk. Why?”
“All great scientists take risks for their discoveries,” Dad says. “Marie Curie died as a result of her long-term exposure to radiation during her research.”
“Hardly the same thing, Dad. Marie Curie risked her own life. You’re risking other people’s.”
“No one’s life is as important as the opportunities the brain ray has to offer. I’ll do whatever it takes to develop my invention.”
“It’s not YOUR invention though, is it? It’s OURS.”
“We had taken it as far as we could. Mallory offered me space to work, opportunities for testing and access to great thinkers. All I had to do was cut all ties with my old life. She promised you would be
looked after.”
“The ‘cut all ties’ part didn’t bother you?”
Dad says nothing, just rubs the half-open desk drawer he’s been fiddling with since he sat down.
I reach across and yank the drawer open, annoyed by Dad’s constant fidgeting. Open-mouthed, I gaze at the contents – hundreds of photos of me. They’re not what I expected to see. I look at Dad.
“Mallory told me to get rid of them,” he says. “I couldn’t.”
I remember Ms Grimm’s fluttering eyelashes when she discussed the Great Leader. I remember her voice on Gemma’s iPod declaring, “You will forget my son . . .”
Her son.
Her Great Leader.
“She wants you for herself. That’s what the ‘cut all ties’ was about. That’s why she hurt Mum and put Holly under house arrest.”
“Don’t be silly,” Dad protests. “She was happy to bring you here. She said I could leave clues as long as she approved them first, and she promised that if you were smart enough to crack the clues then she’d consider you worthy to join LOSERS.”
“And if I wasn’t?”
“I’d have found a way,” Dad says, gathering the photos together. “I got you here, didn’t I?”
“What about Mum? What about Holly?”
“Mallory needs to be convinced of their worthiness. But I have plans. That’s why I liked this place. It’s next to your mother’s favourite shoe shop. The one with the Jimmy Shoes.”
“Mum doesn’t shop any more.”
“Your mother doesn’t do anything any more. I don’t understand what’s happened to her. She’s supposed to be getting cleverer— Ah.” Dad catches himself but it’s too late.
So he knows about the mobile brain ray. But not about the positive/negative dial. Does that make things better? Is trying to make Mum cleverer without asking her permission any better than stupidifying her without her consent?
“I don’t get it,” Dad says. “Why has she let herself go?”
I pound my fist on Dad’s desk, making myself jump. “BECAUSE YOU TOLD HER TO,” I yell. “On that stupid iPod. I can’t prove it was your voice on that machine, but they were your words. I know they were. You have no right to criticise the way she reacted to your death. Especially when YOU’RE NOT EVEN DEAD!”
I pull my copy of the map from my pocket and bang it down on the desk. “And how did you expect me to find you using this? Archimedes! No wonder Ms Grimm agreed to let you leave clues if they’re all as ridiculous as this one.”
“Everything you needed to know was in my painting,” Dad insists. “The oversized brain said I had a cunning plan. The finger on the lips told you this was our secret. The long nose suggested everything was a lie . . .”
“All stupid, confusing clues. I’d never have got here without Porter.”
“Yes, the boy was useful. Although it may have been a mistake to involve him. He was far more reliable when he did whatever his mother told him.”
Speak of the devil. The Grimm Reaper slams back into the room.
34
Disposable People
Ms Grimm stands me against Dad’s office wall, hands behind my back.
When the door opens, I half expect a firing squad, so it’s a relief when Mr Kumar walks in, followed by . . . Mr Kumar.
“Twins?”
Dad steps forward and introduces Mr Kumar (maths). “Know-All, you’ve met Mr Amrit Kumar – one of the most advanced thinkers of his generation. Spoke fluently at six months, a guest student of Oxford University at seven. At ten he was invited to America by NASA where he worked for five years. We met at a meeting of the honorary fellows of the Science Museum in London and exchanged ideas on brain science. I was delighted when he agreed to join us here.”
Mr Kumar (Curry in a Hurry) steps forward, looking to Dad for a similar introduction.
“And this is Amrit’s brother.”
Mr Kumar (Curry in a Hurry) steps back sulkily.
I look from one Mr Kumar to the other. “And you’re both part of this crazy brain-ray plan?”
Mr Kumar (maths teacher/ubergenius) shrugs and looks at the floor.
Mr Kumar (Curry in a Hurry) puffs out his chest, clearly proud of his drugged hot chocolate and fake iPod loyalty schemes. “Oh yes, we most certainly are.”
“It’s not crazy,” Dad protests. “It’s perfect. The brain ray has the power to make the world a brighter place. Who wants to live in a world where phones are smarter than people?”
“Hear, hear!” Ms Grimm sashays towards Dad. “The Age of Intelligence will be my finest achievement.”
Dad backs away with an exaggerated cough.
“Our finest achievement.” Ms Grimm corrects herself.
A louder cough from Mr Kumar (Curry in a Hurry).
“And the Kumars’,” she adds quickly. “The Kumars’, the Great Leader’s and my finest achievement.”
I think I might be sick.
Dad sees my reaction and misunderstands it. “And Know-All’s,” Dad says with an encouraging smile.
“Ugh! No thanks,” I say. “I don’t want to be part of your finest achievement. I don
’t want there to be an achievement at all. I want—”
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” screams Ms Grimm, stamping her feet. “I don’t care what you want. You’re spoiling everything.”
“Me?” I squeak. “You’re the one who stupidified Mum. And Pythagoras knows what you’ve done to Dad. I don’t know why he’s calling himself the Great Leader. The Drippy Minion would be appropriate.”
“I hardly think that’s fair—”
“So where’s Gemma then, Dad? You were supposed to look after her and hand her to the police. Tell me you didn’t take her straight back to Mallory.”
“You have to see the bigger picture, Know-All.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Where is she, Dad? What have you done with her?”
Dad waves his hand dismissively. “She’s fine. Perfectly safe. Stop worrying about the little things, Know-All, and start focusing on what we can do here. We can help people achieve their full potential. We can increase the world’s intelligence, city by city.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Dad. You haven’t proved the brain ray increases intelligence yet. Lots of other things might be making the Remarkable Students perform better – the fish, the chess, the hideous turquoise walls, the absence of classmates flushing their heads down the toilet. Anything. Maybe they’re just working harder because they’re terrified.” I stare pointedly at the Grimm Reaper. “Even if the brain ray works the way you think it does, then what about the nosebleeds and the headaches? And what about the positive/negative dial?”
“The what?”
“Ms Grimm hasn’t told you about it, has she? You call yourself the Great Leader but you have no idea what’s going on because you’re too scared to leave this room. There has been a negative brain ray outside our house, on and off, for months. It’s on its way back there now. That’s why Mum ‘let herself go’ as you so nicely put it.”
Dad chews his lip and shoots a sideways glance at Ms Grimm.
“So what are you going to do about it, Dad? Let your wonderful Mallory continue stupidifying Mum? Who knows what effect it’s having on her, or on anyone else close by? What about the neighbours?”
“Never liked the neighbours,” Dad mutters.
“We’re helping those who matter,” Ms Grimm says, pushing me away from Dad and back towards the wall. “The others are irrelevant.”
“So who’s going to look after all these ‘irrelevant’ people after you’ve stupidified them? There can’t be that many LOSERS to call on for babysitting duty.”
“This is not our only programme,” Ms Grimm protests. “We have similar courses running in several major cities. The Peterborough branch is particularly strong.”
“POSERS?”
Dad gives a half-snigger and covers his mouth with his hand. Maybe he’s not completely lost.
Ms Grimm flaps her arms. “These acronyms have become a distraction. Henceforth, we shall be known as The Elite.”
“Not by me,” I murmur.
Ms Grimm falls into a glary silence. Dad and the Kumars fall into a fingernail-chewing silence. I fall into a wondering-where-Fake-Insurance-Man-has-taken-Holly-and-Porter silence.
I don’t have to wonder for long. The answer arrives with a waft of stinky blanket and a kerfuffle in the doorway. Fake Insurance Man marches Holly and Porter into the room, flanked by Ug and Thu—
No, not Thug. Thug trails behind, hands in his pants. The chillies are clearly still causing him problems.
“Dad?” Holly runs towards him. “You’re alive!”
“Yes, yes,” Dad brushes her off. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
Holly stiffens and she glares at Dad as if she’s imagining him spontaneously combusting, one cell at a time.
“I’m here because your evil henchmen kidnapped me and dragged me here,” she answers. “How about you?”
“Come and sit with me, Holly,” I tug her arm, trying to distract her.
“Sit with you?” Ms Grimm screeches, blocking our path. “Sit with you? What do you think this is? A flaming coffee morning? No one’s sitting with anyone.” She pushes Holly on to the sofa. “You stay there and don’t move. Porter, you sit here where I can see you, and keep that ankle up. Ewww. What is that smell?”
Porter holds out the blanket and ducks behind it so only I can see him. He mouths, “Gemma?”
I glare pointedly at Dad.
Ms Grimm takes one sniff of the blanket and flings it out of the window. She takes a step towards me and I wonder if she’s planning to throw me out too.
“As for you, Hawkins . . .” she begins.
Dad steps forwards. “Know-All will stand by me.”
I back away.
Porter and Holly fix me with identical stares. I know what they’re thinking: we’ll have more chance of stopping this if Dad thinks I’m on his side. I stop retreating. But my legs feel like they’re encased in concrete that grows thicker and heavier the closer I get to Not-So-Great Leader (and Even-Worse Dad).
Ms Grimm signals for Ug to switch on the large plasma screen. “Flick to the news. I told our local reporter to be outside Kazinsky Electronics from eight forty-five a.m. for the great iPod giveaway.”
“Your news reporter?” I ask.
“LOSERS has many friends.” Ms Grimm beckons to Dad. “Come, Brian. Watch as our invention is introduced to the world.”
Dad rubs his hands together like a child preparing to play with a shiny new toy.
35
Newsflash
08:55. The Breakfast News crew cut straight to their roving reporter outside Kazinsky Electronics. In the background, large crowds are grabbing for their free iPods, while police and store security push them back.
“This is Chris Sims with Breaking News – Lindon Police have intercepted a sinister plot to interfere with the city’s brains by launching a series of electromagnetic waves from a machine in the building behind me . . .”
“Traitor,” Ms Grimm hisses as the reporter waves a piece of toilet paper (Is that my note?) at the camera.
“Police arrived at the site in the early hours of this morning, but they weren’t the first on the scene. This young man was already here, surrounding the building with metal bars and aluminium foil . . .”
Ms Grimm’s eyes narrow as she recognises Meccano Morris from maths class. She pushes her face into mine, showering me with spit. “Is. That. Child. Building. A. Faraday. Cage?”
“Relax, Mallory.” Dad puts a hand on her arm. “Look at the gaps. They’re too big.”
He’s right. I didn’t give Morris enough time. The cage might reduce the signal, but without a superhuman burst of energy, there’s no way Morris can stop the effects of the brain ray in time. I glance at my watch.
08:59.
It feels like the room is holding its breath.
Dad raises his hands to the sky. “Prepare for the Brain Wave!”
Ms Grimm raises her hands towards Dad.
Fake Insurance Man and Ug grip the nearest bit of furniture, while Thug roots around in his underpants for chopped chillies.
Holly, Porter and I stare at each other, our faces pale, as the Kumars begin a countdown:
“Five . . . Four . . . Three . . . Two . . . One . . .”
. . . ?
Nothing.
36
What Was Supposed To Happen?
Ug turns up the volume of the news
“The nine a.m. deadline has passed. I repeat, the nine a.m. deadline has passed. And no one here seems to be showing any ill effects. Scientists are on their way to assess the exact nature of the threat, but let me tell you—”
I never find out what he wanted to tell us because Ms Grimm chooses that moment to explode like a Christmas portaloo, destroying furniture, ripping curtains and savaging Kit Kats.
Wait . . . Kit Kats?! Where are the healthy herrings now? Ms Grimm doesn’t even break the Kit Kats into fingers. She just devours them in single blocks. I’ve never seen anyone do that before. It’s disturb
ing.
Dad drops into a chair that isn’t there, collapsing on the floor and muttering to himself, “All for nothing. It was all for nothing.”
Thug adds to the madness by unzipping his trousers and dashing into the corridor screaming “Fire! Fire! My pants are on fire!”
A siren wails outside. The emergency services are here. Thank Euclid!
“The police!” Holly high-fives Porter. “We did it.”
I’m confused for a moment, but then I remember Holly’s fake dive in the garden and Porter fiddling with his phone. “Porter filmed Ug kidnapping you, didn’t he?”
Holly nods. “And then we sent the footage to the police, along with LOSERS’ address.”
“Genius!” I murmur.
Holly smiles smugly. “Yes, I probably am.”
The adults are less impressed. The sirens snap Ms Grimm and Dad out of their mini-meltdowns. Dad reaches for the keys on his desk. But I get there first.
“What are these for?” I dangle the keys in front of him. “Some kind of movie-villain-style escape pod?”
“I wouldn’t describe Mallory’s Honda in precisely those terms. We’re . . . er . . . just nipping out for snacks and drinks. Give me the keys, Know-All.”
I refuse. “What if you don’t come back? You ran away before.”
Ms Grimm makes a move to snatch the keys.
Fake Insurance Man blocks her way. “The brat has a point.”
Ms Grimm gives him her best Kit-Kat killing stare, but Fake Insurance Man doesn’t budge. Instead, he orders Ug to join him.
The stand-off ends when a loud explosion shakes the room.
“What was that?” Porter hops forward and grabs Ms Grimm by the arms. “I want you to tell me where Gemma is. Now!”
“She’s back where she belongs,” Ms Grimm snaps. “Back where you meddling children should have left her. You’d think that girl was more important to you than your own mother.”
Porter grinds his teeth. “It’s bad enough to lock her up. But to abandon her when the building’s exploding around us? That’s just evil!”
Dad shuffles his feet.
The Case of the Exploding Loo Page 12