by C. C. Monö
It was a horrible feeling, knowing she would fall but being unable to do anything about it. That’s when another pair of arms caught Sarah around her waist.
“Let me help,” came a familiar voice from behind.
“Lo,” Sarah slurred, and a wave of thankfulness washed over her. Lorena knew she hadn’t been drinking. She would help.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Mr Garner said as he opened the door.
“I know,” Lorena spat back. “But you clearly need my help.”
Unable to object, Sarah was steered towards the nearest elevator. Her eyelids felt heavier than concrete and her legs tumbled beneath her as if they had a life of their own. At one point she became aware of Lorena who was whispering some kind of nonsense; “I’m a fighter, not a bleeder, I’m the one you call the leader.” She repeated this over and over again, so quietly it was barely audible.
“That’s enough, Ms De Paz,” Mr Garner hissed as they pulled Sarah into the elevator. Lorena didn’t reply. “You must return to the others. I’ll make it from here.”
Sarah sat in the corner of the elevator, her head against the wall, watching Lorena dry a tear from her eye. They watched each other as the winged doors closed, and, deep within, Sarah felt a sting of fear but it was so brief and so distant that it was lost to her.
Next thing she knew, a pair of hands grabbed her by the arms. These were strong hands. A soldier’s hands, and they dragged her out of the elevator.
“There’s no need for that,” Mr Garner growled somewhere nearby. “We treat her with respect.”
“A little late for that, isn’t it?” a voice muttered, before hauling her away through a set of corridors.
Then she was outside again. A gentle breeze caressed her face, carrying with it the sounds and smells of the ongoing party.
“Do you hear me, Ms Wangai?” Mr Garner’s soft voice made her pry her eyes open. She was on the roof balcony, her favourite spot behind the helipad. Beneath her, hundreds of lanterns shone among the trees. It was beautiful. Magical even.
Someone was holding her up.
“Do you hear me?” Mr Garner repeated. She stared at him, thankful that he was with her; it made her feel safe. Yet, something was wrong. There was sorrow in his eyes. Sarah had never seen him so sad and when she tried to nod, she couldn’t move. “I want you to know…” Mr Garner swallowed and leaned in so that his mouth was just by her ear. She smelt his aftershave and felt his hand tremble as he held her. “Your orphanage will be taken care of,” he whispered and gave her arm a light squeeze. “You are a very brave young woman, and I’m very, very sorry.”
He pulled back. Sarah’s legs began to buckle but a rough push forced her forward. She stumbled, let out a cry and fell over the balustrade.
Shocked faces saw her tumble towards the stone patio.
Just before she hit the ground, two words formed in her mind: my orphanage.
CHAPTER 92
PRESENT MOMENT
Axel did as he was told. He kept walking. He should be scared senseless, but he wasn’t. The memory of Black Sunday remained vivid in his mind, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was another test. Regardless, it was important to remain calm and focused.
“What do you want?” he whispered.
“Have you heard of Sarah Wangai?”
Axel hesitated. All right, so the question ruled out a regular robbery.
“No,” he lied, feeling a little more apprehensive.
“Now, now, Mr Hallman,” the man snickered and gave Axel a push. “You disappoint me. Didn’t your mother teach you not to lie?”
Axel stumbled forward. Son of a bitch! This was no way to treat an E.K.A. student.
“Who are you?” he snapped.
“A friend.”
“You don’t act like a friend!”
“And you don’t act like a man who’s got a knife against his back.” Axel felt something hard and sharp press against his spine. “Just be a good boy and keep walking, will you?”
“What do you want?”
The man kept his hand on Axel’s shoulder, pushing him forward.
“I want to give you some information. You see, there’s something you ought to know about Sarah Wangai,” he replied. “Her death was no accident.”
“I’m not following.”
“The Academy killed her.”
Had it not been for the knife against his back and the firm hand on his shoulder, Axel would have stopped dead in his tracks.
“Killed?” he hissed. “Why would the Academy kill her?”
“Simple; she did not conform.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you need to think about it,” the voice mocked. “But if I were you, I’d make damn sure I’d pass my F.F.T.”
“Are you from the Academy?”
Behind him, the stranger laughed.
“If I was, you’d be in a whole lot of shit right now for tricking the Academy into thinking you wanted to become a leader in the first place. Oh yes, I know your little secret.” The knife pressed harder against Axel’s back. “Now my friend, you’re going to continue down this path and keep your eyes on the ground. When you get back, you’ll tell no one about our meeting. Not a single soul. If you do, you’re as good as dead.” The hand on Axel’s shoulder released its grip. “We’ll meet again.”
CHAPTER 93
Professor Jackson stood with his hands in his pockets, staring out through the two-way mirror that made up the entire wall. Below, lounged around a table near the bar, sat Izabella, Paul and Thabo. They sat absorbed in their own work, all with their laptops, books and their cappuccinos close at hand. Where Axel was, he had no idea.
“So what’s his excuse?” the assistant principal asked.
“He has no excuse.” Mr Nakata came up and positioned himself next to the professor. “Axel blames no one but himself.”
A man of honour, Professor Jackson thought with growing frustration. He turned and walked back to one of the black leather armchairs at the other end of the room.
They were in what was known as the Lounge; a cosy area nestled along the top, western wall of the restaurant. This was a place for teachers, a place where they could come to relax, drink, play some billiards or darts. There was a small but exclusive bar, tended to by staff members around the clock. There were massage chairs, large TV screens, a poker table, and even an old jukebox.
Professor Jackson seldom came here unless there was a game of soccer he’d gambled on, or, in rare cases, a student that he wanted to observe in the restaurant. On this morning, he’d woken with a peculiar desire to hold a few of his meetings here. He had no idea why, but he’d booked the room, dimmed the lights and now enjoyed a nice scotch to the tunes of the Beatles playing in the background.
“You know, I can’t help but feel that Mr Hallman could make a fine leader if he just got his bloody act together,” he muttered and picked up his glass where he’d left it. “There’s potential in that boy. A bloody shame he’s throwing it away with his bullshit questions, naïve ideologies and fear.”
“Reminds me of Ms Wangai,” Mr Nakata observed.
Professor Jackson winced and sipped his drink. Then, without thinking, he placed his right hand on his left forearm. Under the exclusive fabric, the scar began to itch.
“One week,” he declared. “After that, if he hasn’t completed his F.F.T., we’ll inform Principal Cunningham.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Crivvens. The mess we have to endure, huh?”
Mr Nakata didn’t answer. He remained by the two-way mirror, staring out into the restaurant. A moment later, there was a knock on the door and Nicole entered.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said with a smile. “I’m not too early, I hope.”
“No. We’re just done.” Professor Jackson pointed at a chair next to his. “Have a seat.” Nicole sat down on the edge of her chair, her back straight and her endless legs held slightly to the right. He looked at them for a moment,
imagining what it would be like to run his hand up those thighs. He re-focused. “How was Sydney?”
“Cold, sir. As you know, they’re heading for winter.”
Mr Nakata turned away from the mirror and joined the others.
“What about Mr Toby Harris?”
Nicole’s smile faded. “I talked to him as requested, sir. He wasn’t pleased. We’ve warned him twice already, but he seemed unable to comprehend the seriousness of the matter. Of course, he’s eighteen years old and full of testosterone. Add to that a drinking problem, a loud mouth, and a desire to party; it’s a terrible combination.”
“Aye,” Professor Jackson said, “but tell me something I don’t know. I didn’t send you to Australia to state the obvious.”
Nicole bowed her head.
“Sorry, sir. Well, I decided to show Mr Harris the gravity of his behaviour by having him removed from the shabby apartment he’s borrowing at the moment. I then took him to a luxurious beach house where he spent three days enjoying all the extravagance he could imagine.”
Professor Jackson frowned.
“I didn’t give you permission to do that, did I?”
“No, sir, but threatening the boy is obviously not working. I thought that if he got a taste of what might be if he keeps his mouth shut and lets his brother graduate, then that might motivate him to keep his silence.”
“Good plan,” Mr Nakata complimented. “He listen?”
“I think so,” Nicole replied, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. “We went through the agreement he’s signed, I mentioned the money he’ll get and he seemed eager to comply.”
“I have little faith in that boy’s promises,” Professor Jackson snorted. “Mr Nakata, let’s keep the twenty-four-hour watch on the boy. If he so much as breathes the slightest hint of what his brother is up to, let me know.” He picked up his glass and nodded towards the door. “You may both leave now.”
Nicole stood up.
“Yes, sir. I should let you know that Mr Milton wants to see you as soon as possible. He had something he wanted to discuss.”
“Right, send him here.”
CHAPTER 94
It was half past seven in the evening and Axel had been staring at Steve the Shark for more than an hour. He was trying to sort out his thoughts. The news about Sarah Wangai bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Would the world’s greatest Academy kill people? No way. Absolutely not! Axel pulled at the tight skin beneath his chin. So why would the stranger lie about such a thing?
He let out a depressed, self-pitying sigh. First the events in the Chamber, then the F.F.T., and now this. Not to mention the damn mid-term exams. Life was just getting better and better.
At that point, the doorbell rang and Axel was surprised to find Professor Jackson fuming in front of him.
“Have you lost your bloody mind,” the assistant principal roared. “You told a receptionist about your case?” He pushed Axel out of the way, nearly throwing him to the ground. He stepped in uninvited, then slammed the door behind him. “Jesus, man! The girl is a farmer’s daughter, a brainless little twit who’s here because her father is a friend with our dear principal! It’s her first year here, and that means she’s still considered a high-risk personnel.”
“I didn’t say anything specific, sir. I just said I was working on a case. That’s it.”
“It doesn’t matter, you bampot! You discussed your case outside these walls. Do I have to remind you that you’ve signed numerous documents regarding confidentiality?”
Axel raised his hands in a defensive gesture, suddenly appreciating what it must feel like to be run over by a steamroller.
“I’m sorry, I…”
“Sorry? A child caught lying is sorry. An employee who fails an assignment is sorry, but a leader can’t be sorry! A leader acts and faces the consequences of his actions.”
“I understand, sir.”
“I doubt it, Mr Hallman. I truly doubt it!” Professor Jackson took a deep breath. “Why do you think I want you to solve your cases on your own?”
“Because as leaders we must make decisions on our own,” Axel mumbled.
“Correct! Leaders are surrounded by followers who’ll say and do anything to please their leaders. That’s why they’re followers and not leaders. You need to guide them, and if you don’t know what to do, then everyone is lost. You’re on your own, Mr Hallman and you can’t trust anyone. I mean anyone! Not even me.”
“Okay, but what do leaders do when they are lost?”
Professor Jackson gawped with an expression of clear confusion.
“What are you blathering about?”
“I’ve gone through my case and I can’t find the source of my client’s problem. Out of the blue, the disengagement and conflict surfaced. I’ve done everything you’ve taught us and I still can’t figure out what the problem is.”
“Argh! The problem is always inadequate leadership. If you can’t see that, then you’re not looking close enough. It’s a matter of finding out which leader is the problem and in what way.”
“Is it always that simple, sir?”
“Who said it was simple?”
“All right, let’s say the global economy crumbles and people stop buying a specific product; is that still a matter of inadequate leadership?”
“What else would it be? How the company handles a faltering market is a matter of leadership, just as leadership determines how the company markets its product. Hell, whose fault is it that the economy crumbled to begin with? Everything comes down to leadership. I’m shocked you even doubt that, Mr Hallman.”
Then to Axel’s astonishment, Professor Jackson’s eyes softened a little.
“If you can’t figure out who among the managers is the problem, then find out who among them is the weakest link. Get rid of that person and give the client a few simple tips on how to motivate people. By firing a manager and giving some tips on motivation, you’ll give the client a sense of direction.”
“So you want me to pretend to know what the problem is?”
Professor Jackson sneered.
“But you do know what the problem is. It is failed leadership.” The professor’s initial anger had subsided and he now seemed more troubled than angry. “You’re not a fool, Mr Hallman, so why are you determined to act like one? It doesn’t matter if you’re smart or have great potential. Unless we’re certain you’ll make our school and our sponsors proud, we’ll never let you graduate.” He wagged his finger in the air. “You need to stop mucking around. Our patience is running dangerously low. You need to think well and hard about the situation you’re in. The Academy never fails! Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Axel nodded. He knew a threat when he heard one, and even if he had no idea what the potential punishment would be, he knew better than to ask questions about it. Yet, when the assistant principal turned to leave, he dared one last question.
“Sir, how did you know I spoke to Miss Davis?”
The professor grinned.
“She’s not very bright but at least she’s honest. She told Mr Milton.”
“And Mr Milton told you?”
“Aye, just as he told me you’re asking questions about the death of Sarah Wangai.” Jackson’s eyes narrowed, and when he spoke again, he did so in a cold whisper. “And that’s what I mean about ‘mucking around’. Ms Wangai’s death was a tragic accident, one we’re all trying to forget. You don’t want to waste your time on it, Mr Hallman. You have more important things to focus on.”
CHAPTER 95
In the days that followed, Axel’s mood deteriorated to a new low. He was a failure and an embarrassment to the Academy. The other students pestered him with sarcastic remarks about his failed F.F.T. The teachers probably made fun of him behind his back, and he could have sworn one of the guards snickered at him the other day. He even avoided places where he might meet Nicole, terrified of what she must think of him.
It was Friday evening and soft rain fell
over Brussels. Axel had locked himself in his apartment. After ordering up a pizza, he sat in one of his armchairs, practising his skills in reading micro-expressions. According to Professor Evans, this was an important part of their communication training.
“What people tell you isn’t as important as what they’re not telling you,” she’d said to her class one day. “People can, and will, say anything to please you. The only thing they won’t tell you is what they don’t want you to know, which is why you’ll want to know it. But here’s the thing, people can’t hide their initial reactions. If you ask them a question that they dislike or that shocks them, they’ll tell you. Not with words of course, but through micro-expressions.”
Under normal circumstances, Axel was pretty good at reading these subtle expressions. He’d put a keen interest in the subject, mainly for personal reasons. He was hoping to learn enough to keep his growing number of secrets and lies protected from the E.K.A. management, yet since the beginning of his F.F.T., he was as skilled as a donkey riding a bicycle. He just couldn’t do it, so he was considering giving up for the day when Thabo knocked on his door.
“I’m going for a walk,” he declared. “Would you care to join me?”
Axel wasn’t in the mood but there was something in Thabo’s eyes that said his friend wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Sure, why not.”
It was getting dark outside. The light drizzle continued to fall as the two men strolled down Avenue Louise towards the city centre. Axel kept glancing over his shoulder. Ever since the incident in Bois de la Cambre, he felt a little jittery about being outside the premises.
At one point his heart almost stopped when a tall man in a long, black coat bumped into him from behind. The man shouted a brusque apology and continued down the street, making a right onto Rue Gachard where he disappeared.
