Itchcraft

by Simon Mayo

  ‘My job to get the tanks to the RIB,’ she said as they approached. Looking down, Itch saw that it had eased away from the Strontian, but on seeing Itch and Sade, Tobi brought it in close again.

  ‘We’ll take it from here,’ said Dada. ‘But I’ll be straight back.’

  ‘Itch, get to the bridge.’ This was Aisha’s voice again, and he looked at Sade, who waved him away.

  He jogged back along the deck, weaving left at the lab door and up the steps. As he climbed, the lightening sky revealed other ships on the horizon. Would they realize that the Strontian had stopped? Would they come and rescue them? As he turned at the top of the steps to enter the bridge, he realized that he had no idea what the divers wanted to do next.

  The door from the bridge opened and Aisha appeared. ‘Follow me,’ she said, and they carried on climbing.

  The helipad? thought Itch. Why are we going up here? ‘Aisha, I don’t understand. What are we—?’

  ‘Give yourself another ten seconds,’ she said. The huge circular platform above them was only metres away, and they climbed the tightly winding steps in silence. The small hole at the top was just wide enough for Aisha and her backpack to squeeze through. Itch followed her.

  He barely noticed the sweeping panoramic view of an Atlantic dawn that greeted him from the helipad. Instead he stared at the large letter H painted in yellow on the black platform; at the figure of Nathaniel Flowerdew who knelt there; and at Leila, who was holding a gun to his head.

  And he said nothing.

  He felt nothing.

  He did nothing.

  Instead it was Flowerdew who reacted. His head pulled sideways by Leila, he peered at the boy who had climbed onto the platform. His mouth fell open. His whole body seemed to sag. And then he howled with rage.

  ‘But you’re dead! All of you are dead! I saw you . . . You couldn’t have survived . . . Not unless . . .’

  At that moment Chika climbed through onto the helipad and Flowerdew stared in horror from her face to Aisha’s.

  ‘Unless,’ said Leila in his ear, ‘unless someone killed your radar, followed your ship, then saved their lives. Then it would be possible.’ She walked in front of Flowerdew, pistol aimed straight at his forehead. ‘We came for medical supplies, but we all have unfinished business with you too.’

  Chika walked to the edge of the H. ‘You killed our friend. You killed so many people back in Nigeria. You tried to kill these kids. You’re a monster.’

  Flowerdew’s good eye narrowed and he spat at Chika. ‘This is about her? Shivvi? Really? Oh, please. She was the monster. I did the world a favour there.’

  Leila swung the gun and it cracked against Flowerdew’s head. He slumped to the deck. ‘You haven’t worked it out yet, have you?’ she shouted. ‘You’re not in control any more. You’ve lost. It’s over. The crew are locked in their quarters – those steel doors are sealed pretty tight – and none of them actually seemed that keen to fight for you anyway. The ship is adrift. Someone will notice eventually, and when they arrive they can rescue them. But it will be too late for you. Now kneel!’

  Flowerdew didn’t move and received a kick in the ribs. Slowly he hauled himself up, his face bleeding where he had hit the deck.

  Leila stepped back and raised the gun. ‘It’s decision time. Tobi and Sade?’ she said into her hood mic.

  ‘Agreed,’ said two voices from the RIB.

  ‘Chika?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Dada? You hearing this?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dada from somewhere on the Strontian. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Aisha?’

  She nodded. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘The motion is carried,’ said Leila.

  ‘No!’ shouted Flowerdew. ‘Wait!’

  Leila removed the safety catch and Itch suddenly woke up. ‘Stop! No – not agreed!’ He ran from the edge of the platform where he had stayed, paralysed. Like a computer that had frozen running a new program, seeing Flowerdew again – and with a gun at his head – had rooted Itch to the tarmac. He heard the roll call of divers calling for Flowerdew’s death, but somehow he hadn’t understood. The metallic snap of the safety being released broke the spell. ‘I have a vote too! So does Jack. And Chloe. And Lucy. You can’t just shoot him – that’ll make us the same as him!’

  Itch walked over to the man who, just a few months ago, had been marking his science homework. He waited till Flowerdew looked him in the eye. ‘And being the same as you would be terrifying.’

  Flowerdew sneered. ‘You couldn’t be the same as me . . .’

  Itch dropped to the ground and shoved his hand hard against Flowerdew’s jaw, shutting his mouth. ‘I’m saving your stupid life, you imbecile. Why don’t you just shut – up.’

  Flowerdew glowered at Itch through his one open eye; he looked totally mad.

  Itch turned to Leila. ‘If you shoot him, then you’ll probably get done for the Van Den Hauwe and Revere killings too. You’ll have every police force out looking for you. For ever.’

  ‘He deserves to die,’ said Chika, still holding the gun to Flowerdew’s head. ‘If you’d been in Lagos when he was terrorizing the Delta . . . If you’d seen his victims . . .’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Itch, ‘but Shivvi was in his team too. They worked it together.’

  ‘He had got to her by then. We’d lost her.’

  ‘I say prison,’ said Itch, ‘and maybe that Nigerian prison Shivvi escaped from.’

  The effect was immediate. Flowerdew recoiled in horror, and Sade and Aisha smiled. From the RIB, Tobi’s voice crackled, ‘Neat idea.’

  ‘The Ikoyi prison in Lagos?’ said Sade. ‘The worst in the world! They’d really enjoy having such a local celebrity in their midst. That even sounds like justice.’

  ‘And Roshanna Wing should go there too,’ said Itch, remembering that the Greencorps CEO was on board too. ‘Where is she anyway?’

  ‘She’s here with me,’ came Dada’s voice over his headset. ‘She’s out cold. She had a collision with the wall. She’s tied up but easy to transport. I’ll bring her up.’

  ‘No,’ said Itch. ‘Leave her there – I—’

  ‘OK, people,’ broke in Leila, ‘I get the prison thing. But it’s messy! We can’t take him there; we can’t even hand him over to anyone – we need to be off this ship soon. But if we shoot him, we leave and it’s all neat and tidy.’

  ‘And you’re a murderer,’ said Itch. ‘We’re all murderers. Listen, I’ve got an idea. I need to check the labs to see if I can do it, but if it works . . . well, I think you’ll like it.’

  ‘Does it involve Flowerdew dying?’ asked Leila.

  ‘It’s a possibility,’ said Itch. ‘Depends.’

  ‘What happens to the crew?’ said Sade.

  ‘They are secure behind locked cabin doors.’ That was Aisha. ‘Cabin doors made of steel. They’ll be released once we’re gone. We’ll radio details to the nearest ships. But we tell the Moroccans that Flowerdew’s here. I’m sure they’d like him.’

  ‘Can we leave the ship in forty minutes?’ Dada’s voice again. ‘I’ve got the radar unjammed. There’s a ship heading towards us. Reckon we have forty minutes before they see who’s here and what’s going on. What about it, Itch?’

  He considered his answer. ‘Just about. Yes. And you’ll have time to film a confession while you’re waiting. Get him to confess to everything. Wing too. We could leave it for the Moroccans to find.’

  ‘Do it,’ she said. ‘But if your plan isn’t working and we have to leave, Flowerdew dies.’

  Running from the platform, he jumped onto the steps. ‘Don’t let him move,’ he shouted, and disappeared from view.

  Leila called after him, ‘If he moves, I’m pulling the trigger anyway!’

  Itch took the steps two at a time, then sprinted for the lab. When Sade said it was amazing what divers could do, thought Itch, what she really meant was, it’s amazing what divers could do with a gun.

  ‘Tobi, how is Jack?’ h
e shouted into his mic.

  ‘She’s got the new oxygen. Doing fine.’

  ‘Can you spare Chloe or Lucy? Need more hands here. If they’re up for it . . .’ He headed for the sealed cupboard while Tobi shouted his request. He crouched down in front of the brown jars and read the label of the largest one out loud. ‘AgNO3. Silver nitrate.’

  ‘What’s that, Itch? Missed that . . .’

  ‘Oh, nothing, Tobi. Forgot everyone can hear what I’m saying.’

  ‘No worries. Chloe’s coming up . . . Chika, can you help her?’

  ‘On it,’ came Chika’s voice.

  Itch was back with the jars. He knew he needed to piece together his silver knowledge from Madrid and his explosive knowledge from The Golden Book of Chemistry Experiments. He was looking at three large vessels of silver nitrate, and rows of sulphates and oxides. A jar marked ALCOHOL ABSOLUTE caught his attention, and he gently eased it off its shelf.

  ‘You’ll do nicely,’ he muttered. Small samples of europium oxide were piled neatly on top of each other. Next to them were jars of picric acid, filter papers, and piles of what Itch assumed were fake euros. ‘Someone’s been practising . . .’

  The lab doors burst open and Chloe ran in. ‘Itch! What are you doing? You said you’d come straight back!’

  ‘I’ll explain later. Now I need some nitric acid – might say HNO3 on the bottle. And something to mix it in. And heat. And matches. And gloves. And if we don’t get this done in time, Leila kills Flowerdew.’

  ‘Is that bad?’

  ‘Probably.’

  Chloe scanned the shelves and reached for a bottle with a handwritten label. ‘Nitric acid. Got it.’

  ‘Now the largest glass container you can find. I’ll look for some heat.’ Brother and sister ransacked the Strontian’s lab for what they needed; cupboards, drawers and shelves were pulled apart.

  Matches and thick heatproof gloves appeared, then, from under a sink, Chloe called, ‘Is this big enough?’

  Itch saw that she was holding a ten-litre flat-bottomed flask. ‘It’s huge – doubt there’s anything bigger. Let’s try.’

  ‘Itch, is this safe?’ said Chloe.

  ‘No, Chloe, it isn’t. And do you think anything “safe” will actually help anyone? If we keep the windows and door open, I reckon it’ll be safe enough.’

  Chloe held her breath as she watched her brother work. From the acid and alcohol mix came wisps of steam and brown fumes, and a fierce, sharp, chlorine-like smell filled the lab. Itch’s eyes watered and he looked away. ‘Need safety glasses and a fume cupboard,’ he said, and coughed as his throat started to burn. ‘Pass the brown jar, Chlo.’

  She handed him the silver nitrate. He unscrewed the top and poured in another colourless liquid mixed with a sediment of silver crystals.

  ‘Itch, what are we doing?’ said Chloe, agitated now. ‘You’re not being fair!’

  ‘Have you seen a thermometer?’ he said.

  ‘Yes – in that drawer next to you. What are we doing?’

  Itch swirled the mixture round and placed the flask on a stand. He slid a burner under the mixture, turned on the gas and lit it. ‘How long have we got, Chloe?’

  It was Leila who answered. ‘Thirty minutes max. That ship is getting closer.’

  Itch grabbed another gas burner and lit that too. He placed it next to the first and the mixture started to react: bubbles formed, steam rose and the crystals started to dissolve. ‘OK, this part takes a bit of time,’ he said. ‘Did you get the thermometer?’

  ‘Like I told you, it’s in that drawer. But if you won’t tell me what we’re doing, I’ll go back to the RIB. I thought you needed help.’

  ‘What?’ said Itch, turning to look at his sister. ‘Of course I need you. You should have said. We’re making silver fulminate. We need to heat and cool; but it mustn’t boil or it won’t work.’

  ‘Itch!’ shouted Chloe. ‘I don’t understand! What does silver fulminate do? Why are we making it? How is it an alternative to shooting Flowerdew?’ Itch stared at her, at last realizing his mistake. ‘Sorry, Chlo. Silver fulminate . . . It’s an explosive. When this mixture is ready, we can paint it on – it’s safer while it’s wet. As soon as it dries it becomes dangerous. Any movement can set it off. If I paint it on too thickly, it could detonate under its own weight. If I get it right, it’s a paint-on prison for Flowerdew and Wing. They’ll be trapped. If they keep still, they’ll live; if they move, they’ll set off the explosive.’

  Before Chloe could respond, Itch’s headset buzzed with reactions from the divers:

  ‘That’s cool!’

  ‘Yeah, that’s a plan!’

  ‘Go, Itch!’

  He smiled. ‘That’s the theory anyway.’

  ‘Where do you do the painting?’ It was Leila with the practicalities.

  ‘Up there,’ he said. ‘That way it’s well away from the crew. Can we get Wing up there?’

  ‘I’ll haul her sorry ass there now,’ said Dada.

  ‘But why don’t we just lock Flowerdew up in a room or something?’ said Chloe. ‘Wouldn’t that be easier?’

  ‘Because this’ – Itch waved at the flask – ‘will be beating him with science. Beating him with chemistry. Beating him at his own game . . . and that will be the ultimate humiliation. He will hate it. That’s why.’

  ‘OK’ – Chloe smiled – ‘understood. Let’s do it.’

  Itch checked the thermometer and removed the heat.

  ‘You said it mustn’t boil . . . What would happen if it did?’ Chloe saw the glance he gave her. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I get it. I’ll watch the thermometer for you.’

  ‘Sea lanes getting busy,’ said Chika. ‘Radar showing quite a few ships coming our way. Any way you can speed that magic potion along a bit, Itch?’

  He stared at the contents of the flask. The silver crystals had dissolved, the temperature was steady, but the cooling process took time.

  ‘No, sorry . . . Wait, yes,’ he said. ‘Ice would be good. Anyone seen any?’

  ‘Sade here . . . I’ll check the galley. They’ve got a freezer.’

  ‘Leila here. We need to be gone in fifteen. I shoot Flowerdew if you’re not done.’

  Itch pulled a face and checked the flask again. ‘OK, Leila, it’s show time. Tie him up. Tie them both up. Tie them up together.’

  ‘Is it ready?’ asked Chloe. ‘Just going above sixty.’

  ‘And that is what we’ve been waiting for!’ He pointed at the liquid: small white crystals were now suspended in it.

  Chloe stared too. ‘Silver fulminate?’

  Itch nodded. ‘Gas off,’ he said. ‘We need it at room temperature.’

  Sade appeared with a bucket of ice. ‘Where . . .?’

  ‘Here!’ She set it down on the bench, and with gloved hands Itch put the flask in the bucket. They all stared at the changing mixture.

  ‘More crystals appearing, Itch,’ called Chloe, pointing to clumps of white in the solution.

  ‘They’re precipitating, not appearing,’ said Itch absentmindedly, and missed her look of exasperation.

  ‘Flowerdew and Wing strapped up and ready . . .’ Leila again. ‘You better get painting soon. We need to be gone! Your plan’s artistic and everything, but it’s not worth getting arrested for.’ He heard the click as she removed the safety catch on her gun.

  ‘We’re coming, Leila!’ he shouted. ‘Just let me try this, OK?’ He turned to Chloe and Sade. ‘This next bit will need to be done quickly. The crystals are settling, and the solution will clear. We’ll need to drain the acid, wash what’s left, and then we can go. It gets more dangerous as it dries. Ready?’ They both nodded.

  Grabbing filter papers and another glass beaker, Itch stood next to the ice bucket and flask, pushed his hair out of his eyes and balanced himself. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the flask with both hands and with all the care he could muster, tipped most of the liquid into a sink.

  ‘Itch, where are you?’

&nbs
p; He mouthed, ‘Shut up, Leila.’ Then, nodding in Chloe’s direction, said, ‘Fold the filter paper and make a cone and shove it in that beaker. Quickly.’

  When it was in place, Itch poured the wet sand-like sludge into the paper. It folded slowly into the improvised funnel.

  ‘Need you here!’

  ‘Leila, he’s handling high explosive,’ barked Sade. ‘He’s going as fast as he can.’

  ‘It’s getting busy. Someone is going to get very suspicious of a ship that isn’t moving. If we’re approached, I’m pulling the trigger.’

  Tobi’s voice next. ‘I’m going off the starboard side. Less traffic. You’ll all be jumping.’ It wasn’t a question, just a statement, but Chloe looked horrified.

  ‘I’d thought I could climb back . . . Not sure I’m ready . . .’

  Sade took her hand. ‘We’ll jump together. Of all the things you’ve done today, trust me, this’ll be the easiest.’

  ‘Can we just concentrate here!’ Itch was rinsing the white mixture under the tap. ‘Three more of these and we’ll be done. I’ll finish this one and you can take the first batch up to the helipad.’

  ‘Me?’ said Chloe. ‘I thought you’d—’

  ‘Both of you. I’ll bring the second batch.’ Itch poured and rinsed again, then offered the first beaker to Sade. ‘This is a quarter of a kilo. It’s stable at the moment. Don’t drop it.’

  Sade took the still warm container and shot them both a nervous glance.

  ‘And hurry,’ said Itch.

  ‘Carefully,’ added Chloe.

  Sade picked up a large spatula, hooked it onto her belt and strode out of the lab cradling the silver fulminate.

  ‘Sade’s on the way with batch number one!’ Itch called.

  Someone whistled though the comms system. ‘Go, Sade!’ whispered Tobi.

  Itch handed the next beaker to Chloe. ‘Before you ask, I’m not going without you,’ she said quietly. ‘We do this last bit together.’ Her tone brooked no argument.