by Tom Palmer
Lily instinctively stepped back out of the cell. ‘Who do you put in here?’
‘People who steal. People who drink too much and are … vi–’ The Norwegian fought to pronounce the word correctly.
‘Violent?’ Kester suggested.
‘Yes. Violent. Now, can you hear this?’ Kester and Lily listened.
‘What?’
Marie-Ann opened a door and led them along another corridor towards a loud cacophony of noise.
‘This is the way to the engine room.’ Marie-Ann raised her voice above the grinding, hammering racket. She handed them two pairs of small yellow foam plugs, pointing at their heads. ‘For your ears.’ Then she put a pair in her ears too.
None of them spoke as they walked through a strange landscape of huge metal pipes and dials and rattling pistons, some silver and pumping, some painted yellow and white. It was like an alien landscape, the engine room taking up the same space as a large house, set on three floors. Looking up, they could see a forest of tubes and wires. All the noise and machinery made it hard to think and they were relieved to emerge out of the engine room into another large space filled with screens and computers.
Marie-Ann took her earplugs out. ‘This is where the engines are controlled.’
The tour went on and – for the time it took place – Kester forgot he was a spy and that the tour was just a diversion to stop them getting into trouble. He was so amazed by what he was seeing: the insides of a massive ship that most people never got the chance to see.
He followed Marie-Ann and Lily through more corridors and up extremely steep metal stairways. Kester tried to piece together where they had been and how it related to the rest of the ship, the places the public were allowed to go. This was like a different world, like a parallel universe that you could duck in and out of, corridors running alongside each other, completely hidden from the public, like secret passageways in an old house.
Then another door opened and they found themselves in the public area of the boat again, out of the cold white corridors that the crew had to put up with every day and into the warm, carpeted, comfortable public areas, face to face with the two American men they had been searching for.
Frank Hawk recognized them immediately.
The American
‘Hey! It’s the English kids from Tromsø. The soccer players, right?’
The American had his arms open, like Kester and Lily were lifelong friends he’d not seen for years. He was wearing a patterned shirt and holding a yellow jumper over his arm.
Lily grinned at him, but said nothing. She would leave the talking to Kester.
‘Hello. It’s nice to see you again,’ Kester said, sounding calm. ‘What are you doing onboard? I thought you were involved in the conference.’
Frank Hawk glanced briefly at his colleague, who was also wearing a shirt under a colourful jumper. They were dressed as if they were about to go and play a round of golf.
‘Well, we wanted to see something of the area,’ Hawk explained. ‘And, you know, the next day of the conference is about paperwork, so here we are. We thought we’d take in some views. Are you heading out there too? What brings you aboard? Don’t you have a soccer game coming up? Training?’
Kester shook his head. ‘Iris wanted to see the Northern Lights,’ he said, knowing that Hawk had never heard Lily’s real name. ‘We were told we had a better chance if we headed further north.’
‘It’s a dream of mine,’ Lily added seamlessly.
‘Wonderful.’ The American rubbed his hands together. ‘For me too. It’d be good to talk to you kids some more. Hear about your lives in England. You know, I’m having dinner with the captain tonight. How about you two join us? We need some kids around to stop the conversation getting too boring. What do you say?’
Lily expected Kester to find a convincing reason to say no. Why would they want to have dinner with a suspect? It was true they needed to observe him, but that would be getting a bit too close.
She was surprised by his answer.
‘Yes, please,’ Kester said, sounding excited. ‘Do you think the captain will mind?’
‘He’ll love it,’ the American replied. ‘Who wouldn’t?’
‘Thank you,’ Kester finished. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘Why?’
Lily was marching along the length of one of the ship’s corridors, Kester trying to keep up with her. The two Americans had gone the other way to have breakfast.
‘What?’
‘Why are we having dinner with that man? We have no idea what he’s up to.’
‘It’ll be interesting, Lily. We need to get close to him. To find out more. He knows something about that warhead. That may even be why he’s here. This is the perfect way to do that.’
‘Hmmm,’ Lily said. ‘We’re going to have to be really careful.’
They stopped when they reached room 247.
‘This is his room,’ Kester whispered, looking both ways. ‘Quickly now.’
Lily nodded and held her SpyPhone up to the door. Immediately, the lock lit up and beeped. Kester pushed the door open and they both disappeared inside, quietly easing the door shut. Without speaking, Lily passed Kester three small pin-sized bugging devices. Two cameras and one microphone. Kester carefully chose the best angles and placed them above the door, in the corner of the bathroom mirror and on the rim of the room’s large square window. The room was at least four times as big as theirs. Lots of space. A nice desk and a bar filled with bottles. There was even a sofa.
‘It’s funny,’ Kester said to Lily. ‘One minute we’re being all friendly with him, accepting his dinner invitation: the next we’re rifling through his room.’
Lily shrugged. It was true. She had that same thought every day.
They lied.
They deceived.
They cheated.
They were spies.
Fifteen seconds after they’d entered the room, ready to leave, Kester glanced out of the window, just to compare the American’s view to theirs. He saw early morning light coming off the sea and one of the two enormous lifeboats suspended on the side of the ship.
‘Ready?’ he asked Lily.
‘Ready.’
Time to leave. But, as Lily reached for the door, turned the handle and pulled it open, Kester’s mind jumped back.
To the light coming off the water.
To the lifeboat.
‘Shut the door,’ he whispered.
Lily shut it and watched Kester drop to the red-and-white carpet, roll underneath the square window and stand again, concealed by the dark blue curtain hanging on the other side. She knew not to ask questions. If Kester wanted her to do anything, he’d say so. She understood he’d have a very good reason for doing what he was doing.
Kester slowly moved the edge of the curtain away from the window so that he was concealed from anyone who might be looking in from outside. He looked out and waited. Kester’s dad used to take him birdwatching when he was a boy. When you’re watching for something, his dad had said, you may not see it straight away. You might have to wait.
So Kester waited, aware that Lily was watching him, wondering what he was doing, her back to the door of the American’s cabin. And he knew that she would be thinking the same as him. What if the American comes back? What are the chances he’ll return? It’d happened once before. They’d never get away with it twice.
This part of spying was a bit like a game. A game of chance. It was most likely that the two Americans were still downstairs eating their breakfast and that they’d be there for another ten minutes at least. But there was also a chance they were about to head down the corridor and come into this cabin, catching Lily and Kester, who had absolutely no means of escape.
That was Kester’s gamble.
But for Kester these were just minor worries. He concentrated on the very front of the nearest lifeboat. He’d seen a fleck of light coming from there. Just like the ones coming off the sea. But there was not
hing on the boat for the light to reflect off. That was what had stopped him. That was what had made him turn back.
Kester was always asking himself questions and this was one he needed an answer for. It was time to take another risk.
‘Lily?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Walk across the room so you can be seen from the window.’
Lily edged round a table and two chairs, moved slowly in front of the window, then back to the door and Kester saw what he was looking for immediately.
The edge of the tarpaulin that covered the lifeboat lifted and two hands emerged, pointing a camera at the window, a flash of light coming off its lens.
‘Open the door,’ Kester said, crawling towards it to join his friend.
‘What is it?’
‘Someone was filming us from the lifeboat.’
Lily pulled the door open. ‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘Let’s get out there. Now.’
Family
The lifeboat surprised them now that they were standing next to it on the deck. When they’d looked at the row of bright orange lifeboats from the harbourside in Tromsø, the boats had been dwarfed by the massive ship. But up close, this one was very big, capable of carrying at least fifty people. It was held in place by a large iron winch that would allow it – if needed – to be dropped down the side of the ship and into the sea. Its dark canopy was tied down loosely with rope.
Kester and Lily approached it from the back, slow and silent footsteps on the empty deck. Kester squeezed between the rail on the edge of the ship and the lifeboat. There was just enough room for him to edge close to the spot he’d seen the hands and the camera appear. Lily crept up the other side, looking out for other passengers. They closed in, hoping their quarry hadn’t seen them coming, wondering who it was they were stalking, knowing it wasn’t Hawk who they’d seen inside the ship earlier. But it had. Suddenly a figure burst out of the front of the lifeboat, leaping on to the main deck, landing to accelerate towards the rear of the ship. But Lily was already closing in before the figure had even hit the deck. She took two long strides, then rugby-tackled it down on to the wet wooden surface of the deck, as one of the figure’s shoes spun off.
‘OK. OK,’ a voice said as Lily twisted the figure on to its back, her fist raised, ready to strike.
A girl’s voice. And one Lily knew.
‘You!’ Lily shouted. ‘The Canadian girl!’ as Kester came crashing down beside her, to hold the girl’s arms. ‘The one from the hotel and the match. Katiyana?’
Both Lily and Kester could feel the wet and coldness of the deck seeping into their clothes as they kept the girl pinned down.
‘Yes. It’s me!’ the girl screamed. ‘Let me go.’
Lily was furious. But there was no time to give in to the anger. Lily forced her hand over the protesting girl’s mouth. Someone was coming. Another passenger. A man in a waterproof jacket with a woolly hat on, walking round the outside of the ship, aiming a camera at the mountains, then the water, not seeing or hearing these three children grappling on the deck.
Lily let the girl go and eyed her aggressively. ‘Follow us and don’t say a word,’ she said. ‘Or we’ll come after you.’
‘I’ll come,’ the girl said. ‘I’ll come.’
Before the other passenger reached them, Lily picked up Katiyana’s shoe – a fur-lined boot – and handed it to the girl, making sure she was following. Katiyana’s hood had come down, revealing her shiny dark hair. Kester walked behind.
‘Good morning,’ Lily said to the passenger, smiling. But on the inside she was not smiling. Her mind was sparking with questions. Was this girl a threat? Why was she spying on them? Would she try to escape? Would she say something in front of this other person? Did she know about the Squad? Was she involved with the warhead? What would they do with her if the answer to any of those questions was yes?
The girl walked calmly with them, making no attempt to escape. The three children went to the very rear of the ship where you could stand and watch the churning of the massive propeller. It seemed like the propeller, powered by that massive engine room down below, was moving tonnes of water every second.
When Lily stopped, the girl stopped too, her hands out in front of her as if she was trying to show that she was not armed.
‘Why were you spying on us?’ Lily spat.
‘I wasn’t.’
Lily grabbed the girl by the collar. ‘Yes, you were. Don’t lie. You were taking pictures of us.’
‘Not of you,’ the girl pleaded.
Lily glanced at Kester, who was looking at her with a questioning face. Lily knew what that meant: go easy. She frowned and released the girl. ‘Explain,’ she said.
The girl breathed in, then spoke. ‘I was watching Frank Hawk. You were in his room. I was hoping to take pictures of him. Not you.’
‘Why?’ Lily pressed, suddenly a lot more interested in what Katiyana was trying to tell her.
‘I’ve told your friends why. And I’m sure they’ve told you. He’s killing the planet.’
‘They told me.’ Lily narrowed her eyes.’ But is that all it is? What’s your backstory?’
‘I’m from northern Canada,’ the girl gasped. ‘My family are Inuit. We live in the extreme north in a place called Nunavut. But his search for oil and gas is destroying our lands.’
Lily stepped back ever so slightly. She felt chastened. This girl was telling the truth. She was saying everything that Lily had read about on the plane to Tromsø. That the people who live in the Arctic are in danger, their way of life about to be obliterated. All because of the frantic search for oil and gas and the melting of the ice.
‘What do you hope to achieve just by taking photos of him?’ Kester cut in, noticing Lily had stalled.
‘Anything. If I can find anything about him that makes him look bad, we might be able to break him.’
‘Like what?’
‘Whatever we can find out about what he likes to do. Anything that will reveal how truly bad he is.’
‘But you have no idea of anything he might be doing?’
‘Apart from destroying the planet,’ Katiyana said. ‘But the world seems to think that it’s OK, so we’re looking for something else, and that’s why I’m here. Other members of my organization are in the USA or working undercover in oil and gas fields, trying to find out information.’
‘Who sent you? White Fear?’ Lily asked.
‘They are my family,’ Katiyana replied. ‘My people.’
Lily leaned against the barriers at the ship’s stern that stopped her falling into the sea. Listening to this girl talking about her family, her people and that she did what she did because of them, made Lily envy her. Katiyana had family. Lily longed for her parents at that moment. Her mum. Her dad. The way she used to love them and how they loved her.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lily said. ‘I wasn’t sure about you.’
‘Please,’ Katiyana said. ‘You had a right to be unsure. I don’t want to know who you are or what you’re doing here. But maybe we can help each other. You were in Hawk’s room looking for something. Or planting bugs. If you know something, it could help me. I’ll tell you everything that I know. Perhaps we can stop him.’
‘We’re not sure about anything yet,’ Kester said. ‘Katiyana, I need to speak with Lily. About you. About this. Can we meet later and talk some more? Maybe after the ship goes quiet tonight.’
‘Yes,’ Katiyana said. ‘After everyone’s gone to bed?’
‘Yes,’ Kester agreed. ‘We …’ He glanced at Lily to check he should mention the dinner tonight with the captain and Hawk. Lily nodded.
‘We’re eating with the ship’s captain and Hawk tonight. Hawk invited us. We’ll talk to him, press him about Canada. Perhaps there’s information that we’ve both gathered that could help all of us.’
‘Yes. That sounds fair. But, please, be careful. Look after yourselves. Frank Hawk is not a good man.’
Orders from Above
; Back in Tromsø – and back in front of the Prime Minister – the children had no time to feel nervous. Even without Kester being there, they had a job to do and were determined to do it. Here they were, reporting to the most powerful man in the UK, giving him information that might help him make some of the most serious decisions that a person had to make.
This time Adnan and Hatty, standing by Lesh’s side, had not come in via the roof. They’d come in a staff lift, one used to deliver room-service food.
The Prime Minister stared hard at Lesh as he spoke.
‘We have evidence that Sergei Esenin is involved in moving a 1960s nuclear warhead,’ Lesh said. ‘Evidence both in paperwork and things we’ve heard the American, Frank Hawk, say when we were bugging him.’
‘Go on,’ he said in a measured voice. But the children could tell, by the look of thunder on his face, that the mention of Frank Hawk’s name again had not impressed him.
Lesh tried not to be distracted by the wind wuthering off the top of the building. He sensed that the weather was changing.
‘Esenin was in Greenland in 1992, on an expedition with his father, who was a scientist.’
‘Or who may have been pretending to be a scientist,’ Hatty interrupted.
‘Meaning?’ the PM asked.
Lesh explained. ‘The evidence could be telling us that they weren’t on a scientific mission. It’s possible they were there to recover a missing warhead that the Americans lost in 1968.’
‘And we also found charts for the channels around Tromsø,’ Adnan added. ‘One way to look at it is that Esenin is bringing the warhead here. To attack the conference.’
‘But that’s unconfirmed,’ Lesh said, glancing at Adnan and wishing he’d keep his mouth shut. ‘We need to find out more to see if there’s any truth in that.’
‘No, I disagree,’ the Prime Minister said, gesturing to Adnan, raising his voice. ‘We need to stop him. Now.’
Lesh shook his head before he could stop himself. Hatty noticed the Prime Minister looking almost angrily at Lesh. As if he couldn’t believe this boy was telling him what to do.