“Stop it, you dodo. You’ll give me away,” objected Scott.
“Scott, I love you, mate. You always make me laugh. You don’t have to dress up like a spy. Your cover is that you are just a regular boy my age.” He continued to laugh.
“Yes…I know. I was just trying to cheer you up and it worked,” Scott said looking hurt and removing his hat. He then took Jason’s hands and looked at his cut and bruised knuckles.
“I see you’ve been busy. Does Cho trust you yet?”
“Yeah, I had to make an entrance. Andrew and I get on okay. We actually have a lot in common. He’s quite good at karate and knows tons about Bruce Lee films.”
“Oh, so it’s Andrew now. Remember why he’s here.”
“I know. This place is horrible. The food sucks. The bed sucks. The whole place smells, and every other word the boys use is a curse word.”
“Well, they’re not the type to go to our school, are they? Can you imagine ‘Taffy’ Griffiths at St. Joseph dealing with these boys?”
“No, he’d have a heart attack. How is school anyway? Anyone miss me?”
“No, just me. Catherine called me and said to say hi. Mum and Dad said hello. Actually, some of the teachers and others in our class have started to call you the ‘wonder child.’”
“Really?” Jason said, smiling, pleased with his new nickname.
“Yeah, they ‘wonder’ if you’re ever going to learn anything.”
“Hey, that’s not funny. I know I’m missing school, but I’ll be back soon. How are your parents?”
“Fine. Well, actually, Mum has been on my case. One minute, I’m wrong for not eating breakfast, and now I’m wrong for eating too many Coco-Bites. Yeah, I’ll admit I can finish a whole box in two days, but it’s so good! Maybe I’m going through a growth spurt. Do I look taller?”
“A whole box in two days? You’ll look like a Coco-Bite at that rate,” Jason laughed.
After an hour, a buzzer sounded and the visitors started to get up and go. Scott stood up to leave, and Jason grabbed his hand. Jason’s eyes welled up as he tried to smile. Scott bent down and hugged him.
“I’ll see you next week, mate. Stay safe.” It was hurtful for Scott to see his friend getting upset. He wondered if his father had been right when he had suggested Jason was too young to cope with it emotionally.
“Who’s your friend? A cousin?” Andrew asked Jason as he climbed onto his bunk and kicked off his shoes. Jason didn’t want to answer. Scott was his best friend—everything that Andrew was not. Jason now realized how much he missed being home with Mrs. Beeton, his school, Scott making him laugh—and, of course, he missed Princess Catherine.
“He’s just a good friend.”
“He speaks posh like you. Do you go to the same school?”
“We have. Was that your parents?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.
“Yeah, my parents were born in China, but I was born here.”
“What does your father do?” Jason asked, not knowing if it was too early to start asking questions.
“I don’t know if I can say.”
“Be like that. I thought we were friends. But if it’s a state secret—”
“No, we are friends. Let’s just say he’s works in gray areas.”
“So he’s a thief? Nothing wrong with that. Although, look at us. We all get caught in the end.”
Andrew jumped down from his bunk and glared at Jason. “He’s not a thief. You have no idea, do you?” Andrew snapped. “He is head of the Triads in London. About two hundred people work for him.”
“Triads. That’s what? Chinese mafia?” Jason muttered, trying to act dumb.
Andrew sat next to Jason on his bunk and explained how the Triads worked. His father was number one in the whole of London. There was also a group in Manchester and Glasgow. The head of all of them was Boudica.
“Bodia whata?” Jason asked with a grin.
“It doesn’t matter. Never repeat her name.”
The next few days went by with no problems. Jason and Andrew started to spar and practice karate together, and Andrew was constantly surprised by Jason’s speed and the different moves he could perform. One afternoon while they were walking back to their cell, Watson stood in front of them on the walkway. As they approached, he tried to move away.
“I’ve not forgotten you, Watson. I hope you’ve made a will,” Andrew hissed.
Watson retreated, saying nothing.
“I’m going to kill him,” Andrew told Jason as they entered the cell. Jason ignored the remark. Later, as they undressed and climbed into their bunks and the guards shouted, “Lights out,” Andrew repeated it: “Tomorrow, he will die.”
“What will you do? Give him another kicking and break his other leg?”
“I’m going to kill him. No one does that to a Cho and lives.”
“Come on, Andrew. You can’t really kill him,” Jason said, concerned.
“This time tomorrow, he will be a corpse.”
Jason couldn’t sleep. He wondered if he should warn Watson—maybe speak to Governor Brown and get Watson moved, although that could blow his cover. He hated it here. He hated the food and the guards that looked down on him and treated him like a criminal. He did not want this all to be for nothing. He had to continue with the mission and get the information for SYUI.
Jason woke early in the morning. He was doing push-ups on the floor of the cell when Andrew finally woke. Andrew watched him.
“Andrew, you’re not going to really kill him, are you?” Jason puffed.
“Why, have you gone soft? Do you have any idea what Watson had in store for you when they attacked us in the bathroom?”
“No, I thought maybe a good kicking.”
“Jason, you’re so naïve. Some younger boys get burned in here. An older boy will brand a younger boy with his initials just like cattle. That’s what he had in store for you.”
Jason went quiet; he was shocked by Andrew’s remark. What had he got himself in for? What sort of place had George sent him to? The sooner this was over, the better. He thought it best to say nothing about Andrew’s threat to Watson and let whatever happened just happen.
After lunch, Jason was mopping the main bathrooms. He hated mopping the floors, but at least he could switch off and think he was somewhere else—think about Catherine, his father, and being home.
Andrew had garden duty. Some of the boys had to plant vegetables, mostly potatoes. Watson also worked out there with another four boys. Watson sat down on a sack of potatoes behind the potting shed. From a secret compartment behind a loose brick, he pulled out a metal tobacco tin, took out a cigarette and matches, and sat back smoking. His eyes closed as he dreamed of being in a far-off place—a place away from guards, locked doors, and windows with bars.
At first, he didn’t felt the pain—just the thud against his chest. Then his eyes opened, and pain like he had never felt before burned across his chest. He focused his eyes.
Andrew was standing over him and smiling, with blood on his hands. He leaned forward and took the cigarette from Watson’s mouth and placed it between his own smirking lips.
Watson gazed down at his body. A garden fork was sticking out of his chest. His heart was punctured. He coughed a mouthful of blood onto his lap. He collapsed onto the ground, pushing the fork deeper into his body, which had now gone into spasms. He felt cold, light-headed. The pain finally went away.
Someone entered the bathroom, leaving a trail of dirty footprints. Jason looked up and saw the black shoe prints across the floor he had just cleaned. It woke him from his daydream.
“Hey, I just cleaned that,” he said angrily. Then he stopped himself from saying any more.
What do I care? This whole place stinks anyway.
“Jason, cle
an it back up and wash this sink down,” Andrew said, stripping his clothes off. He was splattered with blood. He collected clean clothes from the trash can. Once he washed his hands, he picked up the blood-stained clothes and took off with them. Jason cleaned the floor and sink as he was ordered.
An hour later, everyone was locked in their cells. The police had arrived and started a search. The juvenile center was in lockdown.
“They’ll find the bloody clothes in Paul Jenkins’s cell. When they interrogate you, just say he came into the bathroom and washed blood off his hands,” Andrew ordered. Jason looked in disbelief.
“Is this why we have a lockdown? You killed Watson?”
“I told you he would be a corpse by tonight.”
Jason felt cold, and he sat heavily on his bunk. If only he had told Governor Brown to move Watson, the boy would still be alive. A few hours passed before Andrew and Jason were taken to be interviewed in separate rooms.
• • •
“Jason Steed, I am Detective Spencer. Are you aware why you are here?”
“Shoplifting, sir.”
“No, we know that. You are either stupid or you’re testing me. Go ahead and test me if you want. Do you know why you are here in this office?”
“No, sir,” Jason said nervously as he gripped the chair to try to stop shaking. It reminded him of the time when the military police had caught him playing on the flight simulator back in Hong Kong.
“A boy has been killed. Russell Watson. Do you know him?”
“I have seen him around, sir.”
“Do you know who killed him?”
Jason had to make up his mind to either back Andrew or tell the truth. If he told the truth, he could go home and Andrew would stay locked up for years.
“Not sure, but I’ve got a good idea. I do all the mopping. I was in the bathroom and—” Jason paused.
“Go on, son. What happened?”
“I’m not a narc, sir. I can’t say,” Jason replied. He thought he had better play the part.
Detective Johnson stood up and walked around the table to Jason. He grabbed Jason by his overalls and got in his face. “Tell me, Steed, or it will get painful for you.”
“You can’t hurt me. You’re the police. I know my rights. You can’t touch me.”
Spencer slammed his fist down on the desk in front of Jason. The loud bang made Jason jump. “You are a dirty, little thief. A common shoplifter. You don’t have rights. What you do have is five seconds to tell me what you know.” He raised his hand to grab Jason’s neck.
Jason blocked it, jumped out of his seat, and stepped back ready to fight.
These are the police. Don’t hurt them or you’ll blow your cover.
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. Just please don’t hit me and don’t tell anyone I narked.” He raised his hands in surrender.
“Then sit,” Spencer snapped.
“I was mopping the floors. I’d nearly finished when Paul Jenkins came in and tracked dirt across the clean floor. He got undressed and washed blood off his face and hands. Then he got dressed in new clothes and told me to clean up the sink. I did as I was told. He’s a lot bigger than me, sir.”
Jason’s lies were believed. Paul Jenkins was arrested for killing Watson. The police also found the blood-stained clothes in his cell. Andrew was very pleased at the way it had turned out.
“They bought your story. Well done, Jason. You and I make a great team. I owe you,” Andrew said, patting Jason on the back.
Perfect. You owe me, but when this is over, I will tell the truth.
Chapter 6
Jason was excited the following Saturday, as it was time for visitors. He kept watching the clock. Scott was coming, and he needed to tell him about Watson’s death and how Andrew now owed him a favor. The inmates walked to the hall and stood in line.
“Your parents coming?” Jason asked Andrew.
Andrew nodded and smiled. It seemed strange to Jason that one minute Andrew was a cold-blooded killer and the next an excited schoolboy.
“Okay, boys, in you go. You know the rules,” a guard shouted.
Jason was pleased to see Scott was not dressed up this time. He sat smiling at a table in the center, waiting for his friend to join him. They gave each other a hug and sat down. Scott watched out of the corner of his eye as Jason told him about Watson’s murder and how he had lied to the police. He also told Scott about Boudica.
“You did the right thing, Jase. When this is over, you can tell the truth and they can have Cho on that too.”
“Any news from George Young?” Jason asked.
There was none. Instead, Scott went on and on about SYUI headquarters and how he was there every night after school.
“School. I forgot about St. Joseph’s. How is it?” Jason asked.
“I’ve been pushed around a bit now you’re not there, but it’ll be different when you’re back. They’ve been told that you’re sick.”
“How are your parents?” Jason asked.
“Same. Dad’s always working, and Mum, well, she seems happy. She asked about you.”
“Your parents are cool, Scott.”
“Your dad is pretty cool too, Jase. Although who knows what he will say when he finds out you did this against his wishes.”
“I had no choice. You know that. George Young wanted me to help, and he made it pretty clear he gets his way. With Dad away, I had to decide. He must know by now. Mrs. Beeton was going to write and tell him, and I’m sure my grandparents are in a total panic. I hope they’re not too upset.”
“I suppose you haven’t heard the news about Colin Wilkes at school?” Scott asked.
“What? ‘Wilky’? Our future football superstar? Yeah, he was gonna get signed up for Manchester United as an apprentice.”
“Not now. He failed a drug test, but I find it hard to believe.”
“What? Wilky doing drugs? No way. He’s a fitness freak and lives for football.”
“It’s true, Jase. Last weekend, he was arrested up in Manchester after a routine drug test. That’s his football career over before it started.”
“I still can’t believe it. He must be devastated. What an idiot.”
The hour visit was over in a flash. Again, Jason was depressed when he watched his friend leave—his only contact with his life away from this place.
After the visitors left, Andrew took Jason to one side.
“I told my dad about you. He said you may be able to work with us on the outside when we get out.” It was the break Jason was looking for. Finally, this stupid plan was starting to pay off.
• • •
A social services worker waited outside the detention center for Jason. Four long weeks had past. Ms. Pettyfier was going to be Jason’s social and probation officer. She wasn’t in on the secret—all she knew was that Jason was a troubled boy who went from foster home to foster home until he had gotten locked up for shoplifting.
Ms. Pettyfier was a widow. She was tall and skinny, and she had long, greasy brown hair. She wore black-rimmed glasses and a long dark dress that hung off her stick-thin figure.
“I’ll be in touch,” Jason said to Andrew as they were leaving. Andrew was also being released, and his parents had just arrived to pick him up. As Jason walked down the corridor to meet Ms. Pettyfier, he smiled at Lin Cho, but the man just looked away as if Jason didn’t exist. Jason followed Ms. Pettyfier to her car. She climbed in the driver’s seat while he opened the passenger door.
“Um…what do you think you’re doing?” she asked.
Is she joking or what?
“I thought you came to collect me, miss,” Jason replied, bewildered.
“Children sit in the back, not the front,” she snapped.
“Thanks for the big friend
ly welcome,” Jason grunted, slamming the door shut and then climbing in the back.
“I can see how you got in trouble. You have an attitude problem. I only hope you snap out of it or else you’ll be right back here.” Jason sat in the back and silently mimicked her.
She drove painfully slow to a large apartment complex. Jason pressed his head up against the window and looked out at row upon row of identical houses. She parked her car where some scruffy boys were kicking a football.
“Miss, we use that wall as a goal,” a small boy protested. His hair was messy. He had no front teeth, and he had holes in his vest.
“You will have to play elsewhere. I need to park my car,” she snapped back at the boy.
“I can see why you choose this job. You are just great with kids!” Jason sniggered.
She looked down at him through her glasses and shook her head disapprovingly. The children watched as she walked him to the elevator.
A dirty sign hung at an angle with the words “Out of Order.” So they climbed six flights of stairs that smelled like urine and walked along a balcony. She stopped at number 615, knocked on the door, and looked down at Jason.
“This is Mr. and Mrs. Bristow, a nice couple. They have looked after many children for us, and they are looking for a more permanent foster child. So if you behave and you all get along, I can’t see any reason why you could not stay here permanently. They have one daughter, Janice, who’s thirteen,” Ms. Pettyfier explained.
Jason was dreading meeting new people and having to tell more lies, but the Triads may check into his background. SYUI could not risk them finding out Jason was actually a private school boy from a wealthy family. The door opened, and a girl not much taller than Jason appeared. She had long light brown hair tied in a ponytail. She wore jeans and a football shirt. She smiled, revealing braces.
“Hello, Ms. Pettyfier. This must be Jamie,” she said happily.
“No, Janice, he’s called Jason,” she sniffed, walking through the doorway. Jason gave a weak smile to Janice and followed Ms. Pettyfier.
“Ah. M-M-M-Ms. Pettyfier. How are you? And this m-m-m-must be young Jason. Well, hello, young m-m-m-man. I’m Horace Bristow. It’s a pleasure to m-m-m-meet you,” he stuttered. “Veronica, dear, M-M-M-Ms. Pettyfier is here with Jason.”
Revenge Page 3
