‘Nope. The Vigilants came and threw me out of receipts and I’ve been here ever since. I should’ve clocked off hours ago.’
She stared glumly at the floor, elbows on knees, chin resting on her fists.
‘Why did they call me back?’ I said.
‘They recalled more than half the staff,’ Sukie said. ‘It’s outrageous. There are souls in limbo out there and we’re sitting on our hands.’
I remembered a remark she’d made earlier, before our rounds. ‘You usually know what goes on here, don’t you.’
‘Yeah. Usually. Just not now.’
‘What did you mean, about being screened?’
She looked at me, or past me. The cast in her eye made it hard to tell which. ‘It’s like when the magic goes. When the gift disappears. Y’know?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘It’s happened to me before, mostly in crowded places, sometimes on duty and sometimes not, but it’s never been this extreme or lasted so long. It’s been on and off since I came in today.’
‘So you’re not hearing anything . . . other people’s thoughts.’
‘That’s right. The signals are scrambled.’
Leaning closer, I said, ‘Can’t you read mine from here?’
She shrugged and stared across the waiting room, chewing her lip.
‘Just try,’ I said. ‘Concentrate. What am I seeing?’
To help her along, I formed a clear and simple picture in my thoughts: Dad’s bench in London Fields with the brass name plaque and dry autumn leaves blustering around it, deep red and golden-yellow.
‘It won’t work,’ she said.
‘But you can try.’
She did try, closing her eyes and concentrating.
‘Nah, it doesn’t work,’ she said, ‘because it never does when you think too hard. You know how it is.’
‘Not really.’
‘That’s because you’re still learning. It’s like anything, like cycling or swimming or painting. Once you know how, you just do it. And once you start analysing what you’re doing and how you’re doing it, you lose it.’ She sighed and looked at the door. ‘Funny, all those other thoughts sometimes drive me nuts and I wish they’d stop . . . but I miss them when they’re not there.’
The door opened. At the threshold stood Mr October in mid-transformation, part city slicker, part pirate, holding a parcel of dog-eared papers under his arm. After a moment his features calmed and he adjusted the brim of his gunslinger’s hat, looking in with a straight face, no silver-toothed smile in sight.
‘Looks bad,’ said Sukie.
‘Come with me, both of you,’ Mr October said. ‘The meeting was brief but illuminating. Someone around here has some explaining to do.’
The hallway was clearing, field teams drifting towards the stairs and clerical staff back to their offices. Some glanced my way and shook their heads disapprovingly, causing a nervous sweat to crawl over me. The stubborn Vigilant guarding the receipts office door now stepped smartly away without being asked.
The office looked like a hurricane had stormed through it. Security had torn it apart in the raid, leaving only the typewriter and the telegraph machine untouched. Papers were scattered far and wide, books had been dumped from shelves to the floor and more papers and books were heaped on the desk. The telegraph was quiet now, but the list it had produced earlier looked long.
‘Deal with that, Sukie, while we discuss,’ Mr October said. ‘There’s no time to process these names before the field teams move out. We’ll relay everything through dispatch.’
‘Will do.’
Sukie cleared a mess of paperwork from the desk and settled down while I moved to the window. The Vigilant peered in from the doorway with eyes as cold and dead as a shark’s.
‘So here’s the situation,’ Mr October said, untucking the parcel from under his arm. ‘During a thorough search of the premises, our security people came into possession of this. . .’
‘And what’s that?’ Sukie said, not looking up from her prodding, two-fingered typing.
‘A manuscript found concealed behind volumes of the Apocalypti Phrase Book, Unexpurgated. Ben, would you care to explain?’
My stomach clenched when he showed me the typescript, on the cover page of which I’d typed A Dispatch From The Ministry. I couldn’t deny it was mine, but I didn’t say anything.
‘It doesn’t bear your name, but it’s clearly yours,’ Mr October said, ‘and it’s obvious that you typed it right there on that machine. Note the slightly raised lowercase “i” and the clogged aperture of the uppercase “Q”. . . They’re like fingerprints. I know that machine’s quirks well.’
I stared at the floor, avoiding the Vigilant’s look.
‘We haven’t read it thoroughly,’ Mr October said. ‘Presently, we will. But how and where it was written isn’t the issue.’
‘It’s only for me,’ I said. ‘No one else was meant to see it. I only wanted to record things . . . to try to make sense of everything I’ve seen since I’ve been here. It doesn’t give any secrets away, honest.’ I added quietly, ‘No one would believe it, anyway.’
‘Sukie, were you aware of this?’ he said.
‘Well, I know it’s been on his mind,’ she said, removing one typed card and rolling in a new blank. ‘It does name names, and it does tell our location, and it says a few things about how our operation works.’
‘You’ve seen it?’ I said, embarrassed. It was as if she’d read my private diary, which, in a way, the typescript was.
‘I’ve read your thoughts, so of course I knew where you hid it,’ she said. ‘But, Mr October, I believe Ben did mean it to be private, which is why he kept it here to make sure no outsiders would see it. He hasn’t even told Becky. He wouldn’t have shown it to anyone, anyway, without your permission, and not until—’
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Mr October said. ‘That’s all well and good and I’m sure, Ben, you meant no harm. What’s of greater concern is the list of names our Infernal Enquiries team found tucked between these pages. I’m talking about the Bad Saturday list.’
My mouth fell open. Sukie looked up from the typewriter, stunned.
‘Well, I didn’t know about that,’ she gasped.
Mr October frowned. ‘And why not? You’re supposed to know everything that happens here, every stray thought, every daydream.’
‘Usually I do. Mostly I do. Just not today.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Care to explain?’
Sukie fingered her temple as if she could feel my headache. ‘It’s like I told Ben. The other thoughts aren’t there, or at best they’re sort of woolly and scrambled. Could be there’s a screener in the area.’
‘Someone blocking you,’ Mr October said.
‘Yeah, like someone shutting off the signals, tuning them out.’
‘And why would anyone do that?’ I asked. I must have been punch-drunk from that last disorientating journey between the walls, because none of this was making sense.
Mr October said, ‘To enable someone to plant evidence without Sukie’s knowledge. Someone with a grudge against you. Someone in the department but not of the department.’
‘Which they couldn’t have done without screening me first,’ Sukie agreed.
A terrific noise from the alley rattled the window. A convoy of field teams were leaving, their vehicles speeding to the wall with engines revving and headlights ablaze. One by one they vanished into the gap, a crack fine enough to be invisible from here.
Sukie gave a little gasp and turned so pale I thought she was fainting. She sucked air and waved a hand as if to say, ‘It’s all right, it’s OK,’ before she began to breathe more easily.
‘It’s over,’ she said. ‘It’s coming back, I just wasn’t ready for it all to come at once. Give me a minute. The screener must have gone, or stopped or something.’
‘Everyone’s gone,’ I said, checking the now deserted alley. ‘It could’ve been any of them.’
‘Anot
her turncoat in our midst,’ Mr October said. ‘You see, Ben, I’ve told you how devious the enemy can be. If they’re not whispering in your ear they’re stifling thoughts and stealing them. Sukie, are you able to continue? Dispatch are waiting.’
‘I’ll do it,’ I said. ‘She finished her shift ages ago. I’ll take over now.’
‘I’m afraid you can’t.’ Something in Mr October’s posture, a slight lowering of his head, told me there was worse news to come. ‘It’s procedure.’
‘But I’m here now, and Sukie – look at her, she’s all worn out. What procedure?’
He spoke as if a great weight were pressing down on him. ‘It’s the Ministry’s way, Ben. The elders think only in terms of evidence, what can and cannot be scientifically proven. There’s no room in their philosophy for hope, faith, love and luck. They only believe in what they can see. In fact, without proof, without evidence, they believe in nothing at all. Which is why, it grieves me to say, they’ve called for your immediate suspension from duty, effective until this matter is resolved.’
‘Suspension. . .’ I could barely repeat it. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Sukie stopped typing long enough to curse under her breath, then went back to work.
‘Procedure,’ Mr October said. ‘As soon as the elders have proof of your innocence and the guilty party is found, you’ll be reinstated. As things stand, they simply won’t allow you to continue. Rule 39b, subsection C of the operations manual states, “Any member of staff under investigation or linked in any way to an ongoing investigation shall be considered exempt from duty. . .” And so on. A lot of hot air, in my opinion, but there it is.’
‘So what happens now?’
‘Now you must leave.’ Mr October looked down at the floor, remorseful.
‘The Ministry needs me,’ I said. ‘And I need the Ministry. . .’
‘I know. But their decision is final.’
As I started across the littered floor, past the desk, Sukie grabbed my hand.
‘It’ll work out, you’ll see,’ she said. ‘We believe in you.’
Mr October fussed my hair and tucked the confiscated typescript back under his arm. ‘They’ll have their evidence and choke on it,’ he said. ‘In the meantime, be on your guard, young man. This may be a part of a larger plan.’
I nodded and kept walking, just about holding myself together, but my throat felt likely to burst. I didn’t look back when I left the office, so the last thing I saw was the face of the guard at the door. It was the first time I’d ever seen a Vigilant smile.
15
STILL LIFE
hey did what?’ Becky said when I broke the news the next morning. ‘That’s bang out of order! They can’t suspend you.’
‘They already have.’
‘But the Ministry needs you.’
‘That’s what I said. They didn’t agree.’
There were delays on the icy roads this morning, no school buses yet, and we were among the first to arrive on Mercy Road. The school yard was empty with a chill wind blowing across it, but we kept our voices low as we turned in at the gates, stepping carefully on the frosty ground.
‘So this Vigilant,’ Becky said, ‘you say he’s one of the team who arrested you that night?’
‘Yeah. Do you know him?’
‘Not really. Vigilants are kind of unknowable, aren’t they, but I think he’s called McManaman. I’ll keep an eye on him, try to find out what he’s up to.’
‘Don’t,’ I said quickly. ‘Leave it to security.’
‘He is security.’
‘Then leave it to Mr October. Don’t get involved.’
‘I am involved, Ben. You should see where I’m living.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. Would you like to talk about it?’
‘I don’t mind. Could be worse,’ she said. ‘Mum isn’t sleeping, but she’s in much better spirits now. She’s stronger than she looks. Everything we lost, she said, it’s just stuff, material stuff, and who cares as long as we’re all here and safe? And Dad’s had the bit between his teeth ever since he had a run-in with the insurers. Would you believe they tried to make out the tornado was an act of God?’
‘They never.’
‘Honest they did, but Dad wasn’t having it – there’s no act of God exclusion on our cover, he reckons, so they have to pay up. They’ll also pay our accommodation costs while the repairs are done if we leave Aunt Meg’s for a bigger place. Mum’s not sure – she doesn’t want to move again – but you’d never believe how cramped it is. If we’d had anything left to bring from the house there wouldn’t be room for it. The only things we saved were some books and clothes and that portrait you did of me.’
We were lingering outside the main entrance. It would be our last chance to speak openly for a while.
‘One more thing,’ Becky said. ‘About your journal, Ben. Why didn’t you tell me? It wouldn’t have gone any further.’
‘I never meant to show it around. Besides, it doesn’t matter now they’ve confiscated it. I’ll probably never see it again.’
‘I’ll put in a word for you. And suspension doesn’t mean forever. Just lie low for a while and try not to worry. It’ll blow over.’
We started indoors. The school felt as vacant as it looked from outside, and the stale-smelling interiors sounded hollow as we walked through. Close to where the two corridors met at the heart of the building, Becky stopped dead in front of a message board.
‘They must be kidding,’ she said. ‘If it’s not one thing it’s another. Unbelievable.’
We looked at each other, speechless, then back at the notice tacked to the board, which said:
Due to the inclement and hazardous weather conditions, pupils are required to remain on school premises during breaks and at all other times. This is to ensure the safety and well-being of all. This notice will be strictly enforced. – A.M. Hatcher, Principal.
‘I used to think Mr Hatcher was OK,’ Becky said. ‘You could have a laugh with him and all that, but not lately, and if he wrote this he’s been brainwashed like all the rest. If we can’t go out to the crypt, we can’t talk about you know what, so we can’t talk about anything that matters all day.’
‘You’re kind of talking about it now,’ I said. ‘To hell with it, I’m going.’
‘Do that and you’re in deep trouble,’ a voice boomed at my shoulder.
I turned slowly, cautiously around. A tall, raw-boned man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a permanent frown, Mr Hatcher was looking at me as if I were something he’d scraped off his shoe.
‘If I hear one word, just one word to that effect,’ he said, ‘you’ll be in my office faster than a speeding bullet, lad. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, sir,’ I said, wondering how one word could tell him so much. ‘It’s just. . . I mean. . .’
‘Speak up.’
‘It’s just that we never go any further than the tea rooms over there. It’s only twenty steps away, probably, and there’s never much traffic outside the rush hour.’
‘That’s as maybe, but there are other dangers you’ll be aware of if you follow the news.’ He was talking about the bombing, the growing fear there may be more to follow, and a police siren raced past outside to prove his point. ‘In any case, I didn’t spend my precious time composing this notice just to have students ignore it. You’ll disregard it at your peril, Mr Harvester.’
‘Yes, sir. But I only—’
‘End of.’
He moved along. I looked around for Decker, but Decker was nowhere in sight.
‘It’s getting so you daren’t even think,’ Becky said. ‘It’s like the whole world’s against us.’
‘I know.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘I’ll go anyway. What’s there to miss? I’m sick of this stinking place.’
‘Calm down.’
‘Why?’
‘Just be quiet,’ she said.
‘Why should I?’
&
nbsp; ‘Because there’s a ghost over there near the cold spot. Look.’
The shadows she was pointing to were somehow deeper than elsewhere, and I noticed a kind of streaky half-light that didn’t seem to come from any particular room, but I wasn’t altogether sure what else Becky was seeing.
‘Could be it needs our help,’ she said. ‘I get the impression it’s scrabbling around all fours, like it’s looking for something.’
‘Hold on. Someone’s coming.’
We moved to the cold patch and waited. The office receptionist strode by, nose in the air, giving us a wide berth as she passed.
‘Now do you see?’ Becky whispered.
A trace of movement near my feet could have been my own shadow for all I knew. ‘Not really.’
‘That’s odd. But the others who came here, your dad and the fire children, were as clear as day to you. So why not this one?’
‘Maybe it wants something from you, not me.’
She shivered at the thought, or perhaps because of the chilly air. ‘It’s moving again. . .’
‘What can you tell me about it? Can you describe it?’
Becky half-closed her eyes. ‘It could be either a man or a woman. Hard to say because it’s so old and withered and scrawny . . . malnourished, like it’s been locked away for ages without food or light. And its fingernails are all cracked and bloody. I think it’s been trying to dig its way out . . . or in.’
‘What does it want?’
She hushed me, checking around to ensure no one was within earshot before she spoke.
‘Who are you? And what can we do? Is there something you’d like to say?’
But then the bell went off, loud as a fire alarm, and the first school bus party came stampeding indoors, their shouts and footsteps ringing off the walls.
Becky sighed. ‘Great timing. They scared it away. Did you hear what it said? I couldn’t make out a word, and it seemed. . . I’m not sure. . . I think it burrowed straight down through the floor.’
The new school rule amounted to a lockdown – lockdowns were following me everywhere this week – so we didn’t have another chance to discuss what she’d seen. No one spoke, anyway, in Miss Neal’s class, and at first break I sat with Becky in the school canteen, sipping tasteless tea and feeling watched. The other kids wouldn’t sit near us but their critical eyes never left us.
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