She was wearing a strange collection of garments layered one over another, but her legs were bare, and her feet and hands were much darker than the rest of her skin. She looked terrified.
Robert nudged him out of the way, edging in so that he could see as well. But as he put his head through the opening, Emma’s voice came through from the hall, very loud and clear.
“I’m really sorry to have been such a nuisance. I do apologize for my dog.”
That was a signal. It meant that she couldn’t spin it out any longer. She was standing in the doorway, with her foot on the threshold—and they had to get out of the conservatory as fast as they could.
There was no time to think. Nothing else they could do. Tom grabbed Robert’s shoulder and pulled, expecting him to resist. But he didn’t. He was on his feet instantly, reaching for the lid. The two of them dropped it back into place and Robert knelt down to fasten the catches. In less than ten seconds, everything was just as it had been before they came, with the rug spread neatly over the opening and the television standing on top of it.
The moment it was done, Tom darted through the door and ran for the hedge. He assumed that Robert would be right behind him, but when he looked around, he saw him still at the conservatory door, fumbling at the lock. Leaning out of the hedge, Tom beckoned frantically.
Robert turned around and flew, crossing the narrow strip of grass at top speed and throwing himself into the hedge. He didn’t stop to say anything to Tom. He went up the nearest tree and over the fence in almost a single movement.
Tom looked back nervously. As he did so, Emma’s voice floated over from the front of the house.
“Good-bye, then. Thanks for the chat.”
Helga barked, the front door banged shut—and Tom hauled himself up the tree and over the fence, as fast as he could. He came down on Robert’s back and rolled clear, landing in an ungainly sprawl.
Robert was on all fours, with his head bent, shaking and retching. His face was white, and he’d just been sick in a patch of brambles. Tom sat up and looked at him.
“Is it her?” he said.
Robert nodded and sat back, wiping his mouth. “But she‘s—” He shook his head and stopped, turning his face away.
Tom didn’t know what to say. He was trembling, too, and his head was full of desperate, urgent questions. But it wasn’t the right time to ask them. He crawled back to the fence and put his eye to a crack in the wood, looking back at the house.
The woman was just walking through the French windows, into the conservatory. Tom tensed, trying to see if there was anything wrong, anything to show that he and Robert had been there. But the woman didn’t even glance around. She went down on her hands and knees beside the television, with her head close to the floor. He was too far away to hear what she was saying, but he could see her lips moving and her head bobbing about. After a couple of minutes, she stood up and brushed off her skirt. Then she went out through the sitting room, pulling the French windows almost shut behind her.
Tom turned around, to describe what he’d seen—but Robert had gone. He was already moving up the embankment, squirming forward on his stomach. For a second, Tom wanted to yell after him. We can’t just go! What are we going to do? But Robert didn’t look back. He wriggled behind a clump of bushes, and Tom had to scramble to catch up before he lost sight of him.
Robert didn’t stop until he was back on the piece of waste ground beyond the houses, pulling his bike out of the bushes.
“What are we going to do?” Tom said, panting up behind him.
“Not yet,” Robert said grimly. He was already on his bike. “Let’s get home first.”
He didn’t speak again until they reached his house. And then it was only, “Around the back!” as he headed for the side gate. Tom went patiently after him, propping his bike against the side wall of the house and following him into the kitchen.
Helga came bombing through from the front of the house and flung herself at his ankles, barking hysterically. He went down on his knees and let her lick his face all over. It was a relief to have something familiar and safe and normal.
“Yes, yes,” he said. “Good dog. You’re a heroine.”
“I’m a heroine,” Emma said from the doorway. “Have you got any idea how hard it was to go on talking to that woman?”
“Did you find out anything new?” Robert said. He was quite different now. Cool and controlled. Totally focused on Emma’s answer.
She shrugged. “All pretty negative. No, she doesn’t like dogs. No, they don’t do barbecues. No, she hasn’t got a daughter—she was very sharp about that one. Told me right off the bat, the moment I mentioned the word. How about you? Did you manage to open up that place under the floor?”
“There’s a girl down there,” Robert said baldly. “Shut in, so she can’t get out.”
Emma stared at him for a moment without speaking. Then she pulled out a chair and sat down, very slowly. “Is it Lorn?”
“I think so.” Robert nodded. “She’s certainly like Lorn. And her hair’s full of weird braids.”
“I didn’t really think—” Emma took a long breath. “Are you sure she’s shut in? She wasn’t just playing some kind of game?”
“No,” Robert said shortly. He looked across at Tom. “Tell her, Tosh.”
Tom stood up, keeping hold of Helga’s collar. He wanted to explain to Emma what the hole in the ground was like. He wanted to make her smell the air and imagine the way the girl had crouched against the far wall, looking strange and terrified. He wanted her to feel the shock of it. But he didn’t know how to communicate that.
So he just said, “Robbo’s right. They’re keeping her a prisoner.”
Emma shook her head slowly, as though she couldn’t believe it. “Who is she? How did she get there?”
Tom shrugged. “How should we know? But we’ll find out, won’t we? When the police get her out.”
“No!” Robert was almost shouting. “We’re not going to tell the police.”
Tom couldn’t believe it. “We can’t just leave her there.”
“We’ve got to get her out.” That was Emma.
“Of course we’re going to get her out,” Robert said impatiently. “But we don’t want the police involved. They’ll whisk her off and put her in foster care or in a hospital or something like that.”
“Isn’t that where she ought to be?” said Tom, remembering the girl’s pale face and stick-thin arms and legs. “She needs people to look after her.”
“We’ll look after her,” Robert said. “We’ll get her out of there and take her to the woods. Nothing will do her any good until she’s back together.”
“How are you going to do that?” Emma said. “The trick with Helga won’t get you into the house again.”
“We don’t need that.” Robert put a hand into his pocket. “We can get in whenever we like.” He held out his hand, balled up like a fist, and opened the fingers slowly, one by one.
Lying in his palm was the key to the Armstrongs’ conservatory.
21
“WE CAN’T DO IT,” EMMA SAID. “WE CAN’T JUST TAKE things into our own hands.”
“You don’t understand!” Robert said fiercely. “Nor do you, Tosh. You’ve always had someone around to bail you out: Mom and Dad, doctors, experts—people like that. You don’t know what it’s like to face real danger. When there’s no one except you to take responsibility.”
“There are people,” Tom said. “All we’ve got to do is make a phone call.”
“That might save the girl under the floor. But it won’t help Lorn.” Robert was leaning forward urgently now, with his elbows on the table. “And Lorn’s the one who needs help first. Because if we don’t rescue her—she’ll die.”
Lorn’s not real, Tom wanted to say. Not the way that other girl is real.
But he didn’t feel so certain anymore. The pale girl in the black room seemed just as remote and fantastic as the little people living under the ground.
If one thing was true, why not the other?
“Look,” Robert said desperately, “give me twenty-four hours. That’s all I need. After that you can go to the police—if you still want to.” He watched Tom’s and Emma’s faces, turning the conservatory key over and over in his long, strong fingers. “Just help me get that girl out of there first, so I can take her to the woods. We could do it tonight.”
“You think so?” Emma said impatiently. “Just because you’ve got that key? That’s not the answer to everything. What about the security light? And burglar alarms? I bet they’ve got one of those.”
“There must be a way to deal with things like that.” Robert’s face was stubborn. “We’ve just got to think.”
But Emma hadn’t finished. “And suppose you succeed and Lorn—comes back together. What happens then? Does she have to go home to that hole in the ground?”
“Of course not. I’ll look after her.”
“Oh yes?” Emma raised her eyebrows. “So will you be wanting Mom and Dad to adopt her?”
“How should I know?” Robert was starting to look annoyed now. “We can’t worry about details like that—”
“Yes, we can, Rob.” Emma shook her head at him. “You’ve got to think.”
Tom wanted to shake her and make her be quiet. Same old hag, he thought. Still trying to take charge. But then he saw her expression—and a switch flipped in his head. She wasn’t putting Robert down because she liked to. She was trying to take charge because she was afraid.
He could understand that. He was afraid, too.
“Look, Robbo,” he said. “We’ve got to be practical. Emma’s right about the burglar alarm. They’re bound to have one of those. And they’re bound to be on their guard when they find that the key’s disappeared.”
“They’ll think I stole it,” Emma said grimly.
At last something seemed to register with Robert. He sat back on his heels, looking thoughtful. “If they’re really worried, they might get the lock changed. I need to get the key copied, don’t I? And try and sneak the original one back before anyone notices.”
Emma gave a short, harsh bark of laughter. “So who are you now? The Invisible Man? Stop daydreaming, Rob. None of it’s going to work. Not unless you’ve got a double agent on the inside?”
Robert had no answer for that. But it sparked off something in Tom’s mind.
“Not a double agent,” he said slowly. “But there’s someone on the inside who might be ... persuaded to help us. If we have a little talk with him.”
IT WAS EASY TO HANG AROUND BY THE BUS STOP WHEN THE school buses came through. Robert went ahead, to stand at the corner of the street, and Tom and Emma watched the buses come past.
Warren was on the third one. He got off with a crowd of other boys, but Tom could see he was really on his own, just tagging along at the back. The others went up the road in little groups, chatting and fooling around, and Warren trailed along behind them, laughing self-consciously whenever he overheard a joke.
“The others aren’t a problem,” Tom muttered to Emma. “They’ll shake him off in a minute, when they start going different ways. We just need to wait for the right moment.”
They strolled along behind Warren, watching the other boys pull away from him. Gradually a gap opened up. By the time Warren reached his street, he was three or four steps behind the others.
Robert was standing on the corner, pretending to make a phone call. He let the others go past and then stepped out, immediately in front of Warren, so close that their noses were almost touching—or they would have been if Robert hadn’t been a good six inches taller.
It was meant to be threatening, and it was. And Warren reacted just as Tom thought he would. He stopped dead for a moment, looking down at the pavement. Then he took a step backward and tried to walk around Robert, with his face turned away.
It was the instinctive defense of someone who expected to be a victim. And it didn’t work. Robert simply stepped sideways to block his path, and Tom came up behind and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Hi, Warren,” he said. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Warren stopped dead. Then he turned around, slowly and warily, and looked at Tom’s face. As the message traveled from his eyes to his brain, his hand went up to his bag and the fingers clamped tightly around the strap.
“That’s right,” Tom said cheerfully. “I’m the one who stole your bag. But it was very disappointing. I was hoping for something much better inside.”
Warren’s eyes flicked nervously left and right. Not too fast, Tom told himself. If he gets really scared, he’ll bolt. They had to do things quietly, without attracting attention. He took the key out of his pocket, producing it with a flourish, to make sure that Warren was really looking.
“Recognize this?” he said, waggling it in the air.
Warren looked blank. Oh come on, you lunkhead. You must know what it is. But Tom spelled it out, to make sure it was crystal clear.
“It’s a key to your house, Warren. And do you know what it unlocks?” He waggled it again. “It’s the key of the conservatory.”
Warren’s eyes widened suddenly. His hand flashed out, and he grabbed at the key, trying to twist it out of Tom’s hand. But he wasn’t quick enough. Tom threw it over his head, and Robert snatched it out of the air and put it in his pocket.
“Don’t be mean,” Emma cooed. She stepped into the gutter, moving up beside Warren so that he was completely boxed in. “Let him have it back.” She gave Warren a big, artificial smile. “You don’t want us poking around in the conservatory, do you?”
Warren’s mouth began to tremble, and Tom wondered for a second what would happen if they just told him the truth. We know about the girl under the floor. We’re going to rescue her. Will you help us?
That would be the clean, direct way. But they couldn’t take the risk.
He looked kindly at Warren and gave him a smile like Emma’s. “Of course you can have the key back,” he crooned. “We’re not interested in that cruddy old television in your conservatory. I’m sure you’ve got much better things inside the house. Haven’t you?”
Warren shook his head furiously. And then nodded, as if he didn’t know what answer to give.
Tom raised his voice slightly, giving it a threatening edge. “I hope you’re going to help us. Otherwise... we might have to talk to your sister.” Warren’s face went white. For a second, Tom thought he’d overdone it and ruined the whole thing.
Then Warren said, “I haven’t got a sister.” His voice sounded tight, as if someone was choking him.
“There’s a girl around somewhere,” Emma said gaily. She reached out toward his bag and flicked at the braid on the zipper toggle. “If you won’t help us, we’ll have to track her down and see if she’s more cooperative.”
Warren stayed dumb, looking down at his feet.
“Well?” Tom said. “Are you going to help us?”
He knew the answer already. It was obvious from the way Warren was standing and from his sullen, hopeless expression. They’d gotten him exactly where they wanted him, and all he needed now was a bit more hassling to make him admit it.
“What do you want?” Warren muttered without looking up.
“That’s better,” Tom said. “That’s much better. Now you’re being sensible—and we can talk about the key.”
He clicked his fingers and Robert tossed it to him. He caught it and held it high in the air, dangling it just out of Warren’s reach.
“I’m going to give this to you,” he said. “And I want you to put it back in the door, very quietly. So that no one knows it’s been missing. Can you do that?”
Warren gave a reluctant, sulky nod and held out his hand for the key.
“Not so fast.” Tom lifted it higher. “There’s another thing as well. We’d like a little bit of help tonight.”
Warren’s eyes flickered up and down, left and right. He looked everywhere except into Tom’s face. “I can’t do anything,”
he whispered. “My dad would kill me.”
“Then we’ll have to look for your sister after all,” Emma said sweetly.
Warren’s face went bright red. “What have I got to do?” he said.
“We want you to turn off the burglar alarm,” said Tom. “And the security light. Just for tonight. We’d like them off by midnight.”
“No, no, not midnight. I can‘t—” Warren shook his head. “They’re not always asleep—”
“Two o‘clock, then?” Tom looked at him sternly.
Warren nodded. Tom had the feeling that he would have agreed to anything.
“Don’t forget,” Robert said from behind him. “And don’t even think about telling anyone.” It was the first time he’d spoken. Warren glanced fearfully over his shoulder, and Robert drew a finger slowly across his throat.
“Look at me!” Tom said sharply. Warren’s head snapped back. Tom pushed the key into his hand and closed the fingers around it. “Here you are, then. Put it back as soon as you get home—without being noticed. And make sure you don’t fall asleep tonight. If the burglar alarm goes off”—he smiled wolfishly—“we’ll have to call the police and tell them about all the suspicious things we’ve seen.”
He meant to sound vague and terrifying, and he could see that he’d succeeded. He stared straight into Warren’s eyes, not letting him look away, and Warren stared back, beyond thinking or speaking or moving. Paralyzed with fear.
For one, long moment, Tom knew exactly what it felt like. He could have been staring right through Warren’s pudgy face into his wretched, shivering mind. It was like being in a tight, closed space, with no air and no room to move.
“All right,” he said abruptly. Ending it sooner than he meant to because he couldn’t bear the feeling anymore. “You can go now. Just do what you’re told and keep quiet about it. Then you won’t get into trouble.”
Warren bobbed his head obediently, and looked around for a way out. Emma gave him another one of her smiles.
“I know we can rely on you, Warren,” she said. Then she stepped back and let him dodge past her, into his street.
The Black Room Page 12