Gotta B

by Claire Carmichael

  Petra, apparently oblivious to Rick’s distress, said, ‘So what’s the safest way to turn Rick in? We don’t want to get shot doing it.’

  ‘Involve our parents?’ said David. ‘Well, certainly not mine, but how about your mum, Tal? With Farront behind her, she’s got influence.’

  ‘Yes, but Farront is funding the youth clinic, and people seem awfully keen to lock Rick away in there.’ He considered for a moment, then said, ‘Rob Anderson. He’d be perfect.’

  ‘Your mother’s boyfriend?’ said Petra. ‘I thought you couldn’t stand him.’

  ‘He’s okay … sort of. Besides, Rob works for FinagleAlert.’

  ‘Great idea,’ Jennie enthused. ‘The police won’t dare do anything stupid if FinagleAlert is involved.’

  ‘Uh-oh.’ David looked up from his iZod. ‘Tal, you’d better get to Rob Anderson in a hurry. The police are blocking off streets in this part of Braidworth to conduct a house-to-house search.’

  As if on cue, they heard the beat of helicopter blades and the yowl of sirens.

  ‘Since I don’t have my iZod,’ Petra declared, ‘they don’t have any idea I’m here.’ She added with satisfaction, ‘And neither do my parents. It’ll drive them mad not to know where I am.’

  ‘Jeez!’ David exclaimed. ‘It’s not all about you, Petra. Get used to it. Besides, Rosa would have told the cops you left with us.’

  Tal made an urgent gesture for them to shut up. ‘Rob?’ he said into his iZod. ‘It’s Tal. Thank God I got you. We need your help. Desperately.’

  Rick muttered, ‘This is a nightmare. A total nightmare. I can’t believe it’s really happening.’

  ‘Oh, it’s happening,’ said Petra, excited and apprehensive all at once. ‘The trick is to survive it.’

  TWENTY

  They decided that the best thing was for Rick to surrender from the house, rather than have him clamber down from the treehouse when the police arrived in force. At the end of the call, Rob had told Tal that a news blackout was about to be imposed, along with electronic cloaking of all communication devices in the area. As he was saying this, they were cut off, and SERVICES SUSPENDED FOR YOUR PROTECTION appeared on the iZod’s screen.

  They waded through the high grass to the back of the house, while helicopters hovered overhead like malevolent dragonflies.

  ‘It’s a bit of a mess inside,’ said David, unlocking the door with a handprint reader.

  Rob Anderson had told Tal he’d make direct contact with the authorities at the highest level and explain that Rick was surrendering unarmed. At the same time Rob would use FinagleAlert’s secure communication channel to send an urgent-item signal to all news outlets on TV and the web, giving the exact location of David’s house. The media blackout would mean there’d be no real-time reporting of Rick’s surrender, but images shot at the time could be used once the blackout had been lifted, which would probably be after Rick was in custody.

  ‘I’m heading for the FinagleAlert chopper,’ Rob had said to Tal. ‘The pilot won’t get permission to touch down near you, but we’ll do it anyway and worry about the consequences later. So hang on – the cavalry’s on the way.’

  Tal devoutly hoped the cavalry would arrive in time, as the scream of sirens was now so loud they had to be just outside.

  They crowded around the window in the front room, which was once used as an office by David’s father and had been untouched since he’d left. A thick layer of dust covered everything and Rick immediately had a sneezing fit. ‘Allergies,’ he said thickly as he searched his pockets for a tissue.

  Jennie handed him a small packet of tissues. ‘This will cost you, kiddo.’ Her tone was light, but Tal could hear the tremor in her voice.

  ‘It could be a movie set,’ said Petra, peering through the dusty slats of the plantation shutters. ‘A whole bunch of squad cars have arrived and people are running around, and …’ She squinted through the dirty glass. ‘What’s that? The thing like a little tank.’

  ‘It’s a robot ram,’ said David, looking over Petra’s shoulder. ‘They’ll use it to break down the door if we don’t come out.’

  ‘Then I’d better go,’ said Rick without conviction. He smiled weakly. ‘At least I’ll get away from the dust.’

  ‘Hold on.’ Tal put a restraining hand on Rick’s shoulder. ‘Rob said to wait, if we can. He needs time to get here himself, but he also wants the media in position. If the cops know that they’re being closely watched, they won’t be tempted to start blazing away.’

  Tal said this quite calmly, but his skin prickled as he imagined a volley of shots penetrating the wall and mowing them down.

  ‘Occupants of the house,’ boomed a loud, authoritarian voice, ‘exit now, in single file with your hands clasped behind your necks.’

  ‘Omigod! What do we do now?’

  ‘Nothing, Petra,’ said Tal. ‘We stall for time.’

  The amplified voice commanded, ‘Refer immediately to your personal communicators.’

  On Tal’s iZod appeared: YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED. IF YOU ARE ABLE, IMMEDIATELY EXIT THE BUILDING SINGLE FILE WITH YOUR HANDS CLASPED BEHIND YOUR NECKS.

  ‘If we’re able?’ said David. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Jennie grimaced. ‘I’d say they think it’s possible that Rick is holding a shotgun on us.’

  Rick, his face white, said, ‘They’re going to kill me, aren’t they?’

  Tal peered through the half-open slats of the grimy shutters. He let out his breath in a relieved sigh. ‘Rob Anderson has just arrived.’

  Rob walked unhurriedly down the overgrown front path, arms held out from his sides to indicate he was unarmed. A little pack of air cams hovered behind him, proof that at least some representatives of the media were in place. The cameras stopped five metres from the front door, obviously a perimeter set by the police, then they fanned out to shoot different angles of the house.

  Once Rob was inside, Tal found himself shaking his hand. ‘Thank God you’re here.’

  ‘Like the cop with the big voice told you, I’m all set to negotiate.’

  ‘How come you’ve suddenly become a negotiator? Don’t the police know you’re with FinagleAlert?’

  Rob grinned. ‘Sure do, but now they believe I’m an expert siege negotiator too. It only took a word from the commissioner – I know him well – to convince them I was the man who’d persuade you all to surrender.’

  ‘We’re ready,’ said Tal, leading him into the dusty front room.

  Rob looked around. ‘No shotgun?’

  ‘Never was one,’ said David.

  ‘Where’s our junior terrorist?’ Rob asked. ‘Hello, Rick, I guess you know you’re famous. Your face is all over the web.’

  Rick nodded miserably. ‘No one is going to believe it, but I didn’t make those threats.’ He swallowed. ‘What are they going to do to me?’

  ‘You’ll be taken into custody, at least temporarily, but first we have to get you safely out of the house.’

  ‘How?’ demanded Petra. ‘What’s to stop them shooting Rick as soon as he comes out the front door?’

  ‘It’s not going to happen. Follow directions and you’ll be fine.’

  Rick took a deep breath. ‘Okay. What do I do?’

  ‘You’ll walk out of the house, your fingers laced behind your head. I’ll be right behind you with a hand on your shoulder. Once outside, we stop until ordered to advance. When you reach the cops, they’ll handcuff you.’

  He bent his lanky frame so he could look directly into Rick’s face. ‘Now this is important. Don’t make any statements, don’t explain anything, don’t answer any questions at all. Simply say you’re waiting for your lawyer to arrive.’

  ‘I don’t have a lawyer.’

  ‘You do now. FinagleAlert is arranging legal representation. We believe your case is an excellent example of police harassment. You were accused of terrorism on the flimsiest of unsubstantiated evidence and pursued as if you were a dangerous criminal.’


  ‘You could sue for damages,’ said Petra cheerfully. ‘Like, zillions.’

  ‘That’s a long way in the future,’ said Rob. ‘First we get Rick safely surrendered.’

  Rick straightened his shoulders. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘What about us?’ asked Jennie. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘As soon as Rick is handcuffed, you’ll be given instructions. You’ll be told to exit the house one at a time, hands behind your heads. Be prepared to be searched and maybe even handcuffed, until they’re sure you present no danger. Then they’ll search the house.’

  ‘Search the house?’ said David, bristling. ‘Why?’

  ‘To make sure no co-conspirator is hiding and to locate any weapons.’

  ‘Oh, great,’ David muttered. It was bad enough that the neglected outside would be featured on newscasts everywhere – now the cluttered, untidy interior would be too. ‘Mum’s going to love this.’

  ‘Okay,’ Rob said to Rick. ‘Let’s go.’

  TWENTY-ONE

  Rob had explained how they would safely exit the house, Tal thought wryly, but he hadn’t mentioned that they’d be taken to the nearest police station to be interrogated, or that Rob himself would be arrested for an unauthorised helicopter landing in the nearby park.

  Tal’s iZod had been taken from him, so he had to make the one call he was allowed on a monitored police phone. His mother had said she was on her way, her voice half concerned and half aggravated.

  Then he was left alone in a windowless interview room. It was an unpleasant place – the air stale, the walls a grimy grey. The only furniture was a battered metal table, which still had traces of its original green paint, and four metal chairs. High up in one corner of the dingy room the lens of a camera stared down. Set into one wall was a long, rectangular mirror. From watching countless crime dramas, Tal assumed it was a two-way mirror. He had the uncomfortable feeling that someone on the other side was watching him.

  He waited with growing impatience. The sooner he set the cops straight about Rick, the sooner Rick could go home and Tal could too. It had been late afternoon when they’d all been brought to the police station. Without his iZod he didn’t know what time it was now. For something to do, he got up and walked slowly around the table. That used up, at the most, ten seconds. Tal walked around the table the opposite way, then tried the door. It was locked. He sat on one of the uncomfortable metal chairs and rested his elbows on the table. If he had his iZod, he could occupy himself, but left alone in this dreary place without it, the minutes dragged by with agonising slowness.

  His thoughts turned to the accusations Rick was facing. It was terrifying how easily people had been convinced that Rick was dangerous. What if he had been gunned down by a trigger-happy cop? It would have been too late then to discover that someone had deliberately set him up.

  Rick was probably being interrogated right now. Of course he’d be denying everything, but it didn’t matter how many times he declared his innocence, it meant nothing without proof that someone else had posted the threats to Braidworth High’s website using Rick’s name.

  George had said Maryann Dodd’s computer skills were excellent, but Tal wondered if she were good enough to break through the sophisticated firewalls the school’s site used to block student hackers. And if not Maryann, then who? And why? That was the big question. Why was Rick the victim?

  Tal was brooding over possible motives when the door was unlocked and two detectives entered the interview room. They introduced themselves as Detective Mentone and Detective Jetter. Mentone smiled cheerfully as he pointed out that Tal was not under arrest, but was merely there to help them understand what had happened. All through this Detective Jetter glowered at Tal. It was so obvious they were playing the good cop/bad cop script that he almost smiled.

  Jetter looked perfect for the bad-cop role, with his heavy build, mean eyes and shaved head. As soon as they were all seated at the grubby table, he began. ‘Where has Richard Lawrence hidden the shotgun and the ammunition?’

  ‘There isn’t a shotgun. There never was a shotgun. Look, you’re wrong about Rick. He –’

  ‘Just answer the questions, son, and you’ll get out of here a lot quicker.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on him, Fred,’ said good-cop Mentone. When Jetter grunted disagreeably, Mentone went on. ‘You can best help your friend by telling us everything you know.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Tal. ‘This is what I know for sure: Rick’s not a terrorist; he had nothing to do with the threats on the school website; he’s never had anything to do with a shotgun, or any –’

  ‘You forgot to mention Lawrence beats up girls,’ Jetter sneered.

  ‘Rick didn’t beat up Maryann. Rick was angry because she –’

  ‘He has a violent streak,’ said Jetter, interrupting again. ‘And to make things worse, the kid’s got mental problems. It’s obvious Lawrence is a time bomb, ready to explode.’

  ‘No way! Rick isn’t like that.’

  Mentone smiled pleasantly. ‘I get the feeling you’ve been friends for a long time.’

  ‘Rick’s been one of the Five from the beginning.’

  Jetter leaned forward, obviously intending to intimidate. ‘The Five? What’s that? A secret society?’

  ‘It’s not a secret society. We’re five friends. We have been since kindergarten. We’ve always been called the Five. It’s a bit of a joke, actually.’

  Mentone’s friendly attitude abruptly changed. ‘A joke? I’m not laughing.’

  He pushed back his chair with a screech and stalked around the table to stand behind Tal. Placing his hands on the back of the chair, he bent over Tal to say, ‘This group of yours – you have a cache of weapons? A secret meeting place?’

  It was so ridiculous Tal laughed. ‘Get real! We’re friends, that’s all.’

  Jetter folded his thick arms over his chest. ‘What if I were to tell you that when he was officially charged, your co-conspirator Richard Lawrence confessed to belonging to a terrorist cell.’

  ‘That’s impossible. I don’t believe it.’

  ‘You calling me a liar?’ Tal jumped as Jetter slammed his hand down on the metal table. ‘Level with us, son, or you’ll be charged as an accomplice.’

  There was a sharp knock at the door. A middle-aged, grey-haired woman with a commanding manner put her head into the room to say, ‘Detectives? Out here, please.’

  Tal decided he wouldn’t say another word. He hadn’t been arrested, so when his mother arrived, he’d leave with her. If that was a problem, she’d get him a lawyer.

  The door opened again and the middle-aged woman came into the room. ‘Thank you for your assistance.’ She handed Tal his iZod.

  He stood up. ‘I can go?’

  ‘Of course. Your mother’s waiting for you.’

  ‘What’s happened to Rick and the others?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss that.’

  ‘Rick had nothing to do with those threats. He’s been set up.’

  She didn’t reply, but held the door open for Tal. With a gesture, she indicated the way he should go.

  Walking down the grimy corridor, he checked his iZod was working then sent a quick text to Allyx to say he was okay and would see her tomorrow.

  His mother, grim-faced, was standing in the waiting area. Tal couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt quite so pleased and relieved to see her.

  ‘Mum, get me outta here!’ Tal glanced past her, and was astonished to find the other occupants of the waiting area were Joe Villabona and Carter Renfrew. ‘What are –’

  ‘Not now, Tal.’ She grabbed his arm and propelled him in the direction of the door.

  ‘Grace, we need to talk,’ said Villabona, stepping in front of them.

  ‘Later, Joe. I’ll call you.’

  He moved aside. ‘Make sure you do. It’s important – we both know that.’

  When Tal and his mother got to the sliding entrance doors, she said, ‘The media are here.
Keep walking. Don’t say anything.’

  Outside it was rapidly becoming dark. They were met by a crush of media and curious bystanders. Glaring lights dazzled, air cams swooped, and reporters rushed to pepper them with questions.

  ‘No comment,’ Tal’s mother kept saying in a monotone.

  ‘Talbot! Talbot Blair! Look this way. What can you tell us about your friend Rick Lawrence? When did you suspect he was losing control?’

  ‘Vultures,’ Grace murmured.

  Tal kept walking and eventually the members of the media returned to their stakeout of the station.

  ‘What’s the story with Villabona?’ Tal asked.

  ‘Just something to do with work. I don’t want to talk about it now.’

  Tal looked back over his shoulder at the brightly illuminated cop shop. ‘I was told Rick had been arrested, but what about the others?’

  ‘Petra, Jennie and David have already been picked up by their parents.’

  ‘And Rob?’

  ‘FinagleAlert’s legal eagle is working to get him out on bail.’

  Sitting in a no-parking zone was a black limousine with heavily tinted windows. In gold lettering along the side were the words: FARRONT-RENFREW-UNWIN YOUTH HEALTH & COUNSELLING CENTRE.

  Tal halted and turned to his mother. ‘Are Villabona and Renfrew here because of Rick?’

  She nodded. ‘His grandmother’s in the station now, signing the papers to have him committed to psychiatric care at The Farront Centre. Dr Renfrew is here to formally take custody of Rick.’

  ‘But how can he have custody, when Rick’s been arrested for terrorism?’

  She gave a short, unamused laugh. ‘Oh, the police have cut a deal at the highest level. FinagleAlert’s lawyer pointed out that there was embarrassingly little evidence to justify the full-scale manhunt and that Rick had an excellent case for harassment and wrongful arrest. Under those circumstances, the authorities are delighted to have him handed over to Renfrew and bundled away out of sight with the convenient label “mentally ill”.’