‘Hello?’ She held it quickly to Max’s ear.
‘Hello?’ said Max. ‘Is that Alan Raven?’
‘Speaking,’ said her dad.
‘This is Derek, Sarah’s dad,’ continued Max.
‘Oh, hello.’
‘I was calling to see if Millie can come over on Wednesday night.’
‘Sure, of course she can. I just wanted to talk to you to check it was OK,’ said Alan.
‘We’re looking forward to having her,’ said Max, pulling a face at Millie to say this acting natural thing was not coming easily. Millie smirked back.
‘Well, we’d love to have Sarah round some time, too.’ Millie’s dad was polite to a fault.
‘She’d love that. Ah, is that the doorbell?’
Millie began shaking with silent laughter, her nervousness about this stage of the plan making her giggly.
‘Excuse me,’ Max said, with as much dignity as he could muster, ‘I’m afraid there’s someone at my door.’
‘Oh, sure,’ said Millie’s dad. ‘Well, nice to talk to you. Bye.’
‘Bye,’ said Max, and Millie pressed the ‘End Call’ button before collapsing into laughter.
‘Was that the best you could come up with? “There’s someone at the door”?’ She was prostrate on the ground.
‘It was difficult,’ Max said, now sounding injured. ‘I don’t like lying to your dad – I like him.’
‘You haven’t even met him.’
‘I’ve heard him. That’s the same thing.’
‘OK, international super spy, it’s the same thing.’
‘There’s no need to be quite so rude.’
‘Sorry.’ Millie was chastened by his hurt face. ‘I’m not really laughing because it’s funny. I think I’m slightly hysterical because that’s the first part of our plan in place.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ said Max.
Millie nodded. Max rubbed his head hard against her leg. She scritched his ears. They had begun.
On the other side of the wood, Arthur Shepard sat at his desk, wondering. He had spoken to the window cleaner, his colleague, and his daughter, and all had professed to know nothing. He didn’t know which man had been lying to him, but he was sure one of them had. It obviously wasn’t the girl – Mickey and Ray had checked her bedroom and her computer out the day before, and she was just a child. But someone had been trying to get information from the protesters – his protesters. The messages had come through to him, of course, and he had approved the reply, telling whichever thieving crook it was who had seen his cat, maybe even stolen his cat, to sit tight and wait for further information. Which would come in a few weeks, when everything was finished. Still, whoever it was had been looking him up on the internet – he had set up an expensive alarm system some months ago, which alerted him when anyone tried to find out anything about him through electoral registers and the like. And the alarm had been triggered the previous day. He tracked down the service provider and the telephone number and cursed with rage when it led him only to the local library. It must have been one of the window cleaners – no one else could know anything, he had been too careful. But whoever it was was being cautious, covering their tracks. And yet, there had been no demand for money, no tabloids ringing up with their exposé, nothing. He couldn’t work it out. If one of them knew what was going on – worse, if one of them had the damned cat as evidence – why weren’t they selling what they knew, either to him or to the press?
He had spent twenty-four hours weighing up the pros and cons of his decision, and he had come to a conclusion. The cats would be transferred to another lab, as soon as possible. Next week at the latest. He would need to make some calls.
Chapter Seventeen
Millie and Max were already fidgeting with nerves by Wednesday morning. Millie had woken up every hour of every night, and grey circles smudged under her eyes. Max liked to think he was hiding it a little better, but he too looked nervous and edgy. They had arranged to meet the protesters at eleven o’clock that evening. At first, Millie had been worried that it would be too early, and maybe the security guards would be less enthusiastic later in the night. But her dad thought she was going over to Sarah’s at eight, and now the day had finally arrived, Millie realised that by the time they had biked over there, they would still have to wait for about two hours in the woods, which was more than long enough.
She packed her bag carefully, taking a navy jumper with a hood, the map they had drawn of the building, a torch and spare batteries, a fully charged phone she had already set to silent, so there would be no nasty shocks if it suddenly started ringing, her bike lights, because it would be dark when they came home, and chocolate, in case either of them needed a sugar rush later on. She wore dark jeans, black trainers, and a navy T-shirt, and hoped that in the dark she would be pretty hard to see.
Max wore his usual dark grey fur, and looked on smugly at Millie’s complex preparations. They left the house at eight o’clock, and by half past eight they were on the edge of the woods. Millie picked an unusually large oak tree and hid her bike underneath it. There were plenty of dead leaves and bracken, and soon she had concealed the bike from view. She made a large scratch in the tree at eye-level, feeling guilty as she scarred the huge trunk and subverted everything her dad had told her about environmental responsibility. But she couldn’t afford to lose time later trying to remember which tree it had been, and it was mostly moss that she had removed. She and Max sat and talked, distracting each other in whispers, about Ixelles, Max’s home, and his family – smart, practical Sofie, whom he had picked when she came to a cat breeder’s several years before, with her son, Stef. Stef was now thirteen, and Max had largely forgiven, if not entirely forgotten, his early tail-pulling years. Sofie was a kind woman who had patiently helped Stef with his English and Dutch homework, little realising that Max was picking up trilingual skills as well.
Stef would like Millie, Max thought, and she him – although he was quite a dreamy boy, which Millie might find a bit irritating at first. She would get over it, though. He hoped he would have the chance to introduce them.
It was quarter to ten. They padded silently through the woods, following the compass set into the bottom of Millie’s torch, but keeping the light off – the plan was to use it only after the escape, when speed was absolutely necessary. Max could see easily in the dark, and could guide Millie around trees that suddenly leapt out of total blackness, or troughs that would suddenly fall away beneath her feet. They had arranged to meet the protesters on the far side of the wood, about fifty feet inside it, where the security men shouldn’t be able to see them. They were a few minutes early, and they waited behind a tree for the sound of more people arriving. At five to eleven, Millie was getting worried.
‘What if they’re not coming?’ she hissed.
‘I don’t know. It’s still early. They will come.’ Max tried to sound more confident than he felt, which was not at all. They waited a few more minutes. At two minutes past the hour, Millie began to despair.
‘We’ll have to go home. We can’t do it on our own. They aren’t coming.’
‘Shh,’ he said. ‘I hear something.’
They stood behind their tree, peering round into the darkness.
‘I can’t hear anything,’ she said.
‘Shhh. Wait.’ And Max was right, Millie heard it too. In just a few moments, their knights in shining armour would appear. The trained, experienced laboratory-breakers, who were going to make everything all right. The noise drew closer. Millie and Max stared.
‘Who is that?’ whispered Max.
‘I don’t know,’ Millie mumbled back.
‘Hello?’ said a voice softly. ‘Are you there?’
Millie came out from behind the tree to meet the people who were going to divert the guards’ attention, control the building’s electricity, and generally enable the escape plan to be a success. Or rather, the man. Or, technically, the boy. She was finally face to face with the brai
ns behind the direct-action website, and he appeared to be no more than fifteen years old.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Who are you?’ she asked quietly.
‘I’m Jake. Who are you?’
‘I’m Millie.’
‘Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m supposed to be meeting some people here in secret, and it’s quite important, so would you mind leaving?’
‘You’re meant to be meeting me.’ Millie sounded grim.
‘What do you mean? I’m here to . . . Oh. That was you, emailing?’
‘Yep. That was me, emailing.’
‘But you’re just a little girl.’
‘That must get so boring,’ Max sympathised. Millie really was very clever and good at things, and yet people patronised her all the time, just because she was young, and looked even younger. He had nearly jumped to the same conclusions himself when he had first met her, and would doubtless have tried to find someone else to rescue him, if there had been anyone else. Luckily for him, there hadn’t been.
‘Who’s that?’ said Jake, peering into the darkness.
‘My friend, Max,’ Millie shot back. ‘Where’s everyone else?’
‘I’m it.’
‘What do you mean, you’re “it”?’ she asked.
‘I mean, I’m the one who’s coming to help. But this must be some sort of mistake. You can’t be planning to break into a secure building. What are you, ten?’
‘I’m twelve,’ she said through tightly clenched teeth.
‘And there are only three of us?’ Jake asked, disbelieving.
‘I thought you were bringing the other protesters. You said you would.’
‘Well, I couldn’t. They’re not real,’ said Jake, looking shifty.
‘Of course they’re real. I’ve seen them,’ Millie snapped before she realised that wasn’t actually true. She had never seen the protesters, nor had Max. They only had her dad’s word that they existed at all.
‘No, I mean, they are real people,’ Jake corrected himself. ‘Just not real protesters.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Max, and Jake looked around, trying to find a face to attach to the voice.
‘They’re just stooges. Moles, if you like,’ Jake said.
Millie heard Max sigh.
‘He means that they’re just pretending to be protesters,’ she explained, realising that ‘mole’ wouldn’t mean very much to Max, apart from as a concise description of a dinner with poor eyesight and low ground speed. ‘Why would anyone do that?’ she demanded.
‘They’re paid by Vakkson to protest outside. They can spy on other people who come and join the protest, and keep Vakkson informed about what’s going on. All the animal testers do it now.’
‘Oh no,’ said Millie. ‘We mailed them, too.’
‘What did you say?’ asked Jake quickly. ‘Whatever you told them, they told the people inside the laboratory.’
Millie racked her brains, and recreated the emails she had sent.
‘We didn’t say anything about a break-out,’ she said, hugely relieved.
‘Then you’re probably all right,’ said Jake. ‘Anyway, you weren’t serious about breaking in, were you?’
‘I was and I am,’ Millie said simply.
‘You’re kidding?’ Jake was astonished. He assumed she would have reconsidered her plan, now she knew how many co-conspirators she really had.
‘Are you going to help or not?’ she said testily.
‘I thought you said you had insider knowledge. You seemed to know what you were talking about.’
‘I do. I’ve cleaned every window and every door on the ground floor of that building and I know it pretty well. Max has been inside the building, right up in the labs on the top floor, where the cats are. Now – are you in or out?’
Jake stood for a moment, trying to work out how his first attempt at a daring and illegal activity was being dictated by a kid and some bloke he couldn’t even see. It was stupid. He should just leave them to it. But he really wanted to go home having achieved something in the real world, not just having sent out salvoes from a computer. Most of all, he really wanted those smug, vicious losers to pay for tormenting harmless creatures. Suddenly, he had an unpleasant thought.
‘Hold on. How did Max get into the laboratory, if he’s not one of them?’
‘He isn’t one of them.’
‘How can I trust you? You didn’t even tell me you were twelve.’
‘It didn’t come up. Besides, we’re trusting you,’ Millie said sharply.
Jake looked a little abashed. ‘You could have said you were just a kid,’ he said, trying to regain the moral high ground.
Millie would have none of it. ‘So could you. If I prove to you that Max isn’t one of them, are you in?’
‘Yes.’
‘Come on, then.’ Millie scooped Max up from the ground and said,’Jake, meet Max. Max, meet Jake.’
‘Hello,’ said Max coolly.
Jake jumped backwards.
‘How are you doing—?’ he asked Millie, eyes wide.
‘You think I am some kind of . . .’ Max looked at Millie for the word.
‘Ventriloquist,’ she guessed.
‘Thank you,’ he said with perfect politeness. Then he turned to Jake and, in a far less polite tone, said, ‘You think I am some kind of ventriloquist’s dummy?’
Jake looked so shocked that Millie took pity on him.
‘Max escaped from the laboratory. This is what they’re doing in there – making cats talk. This is why we’ve got to rescue the rest.’
‘Why would they . . .?’
‘Do you ever finish sentences?’ Max asked irritably. He turned to Millie. ‘I have to say, you took it a lot better than this when we met.’
‘Why would they want to give voices to cats? We don’t know,’ Millie said, trying to answer the question she would have asked in Jake’s position. ‘That’s the other thing we need to find out. Now, are you going to keep your side of the bargain?’
‘Yes,’ Jake breathed. ‘So long as that cat stops being mean to me.’
‘Max . . .’ warned Millie.
‘OK,’ sighed the cat. ‘It was too easy, anyway. It’s funnier being mean to you.’
Chapter Nineteen
‘So, let’s go through the plan again, just to make sure we all know what we’re doing,’ said Millie, as they pored over the map she had brought. ‘Jake, you’re going to be the decoy. Get up close to the building, catch the attention of the security blokes, run off, and try not to get caught. If you do get caught, say you’re just mucking around, and do a bored teenager thing. OK?’
‘OK.’ Jake looked way too nervous to be bored, but Millie was hoping that the security men wouldn’t be picky.
‘Meanwhile, me and Max—’
‘Max and I,’ corrected the cat.
Millie gave him a hard stare, and then grinned.
‘Max and I,’ she repeated, ‘will run to the main doors. Ah. What’s going to happen with the power?’
‘My brother’s doing it.’
‘Your brother? Does he work for the electricity company?’
‘Not exactly. He’s doing it from home.’
‘How?’
‘He’s hacked into their grid. He’s really good at that sort of thing. You’d never know he was . . .’
‘He was what?’
‘Nothing. He’s hacked into their system, anyway. Call him when you need the power cut, let it ring three times, then hang up. Have you got a phone?’ he asked.
Millie waved her mobile at him.
‘Great. Here’s his number. It’s pay as you go, so it can’t be traced.’
‘Good.’ Millie keyed the number into her phone.
‘We should swap numbers as well,’ Jake added, and they did.
‘So, when you run off with the guards, we call your brother and hang up after three rings. That’s the signal to cut the power to the alarms and the cameras, but not the doors. Has he i
solated those?’
‘Of course.’
‘We go through the main doors. We get up to the third floor, and then the airlock doors will still open, because the power to them stays on.’ Millie felt she had to go over everything step by step, in case she’d forgotten something.
‘Once the cats are free, they run down three flights of stairs and into the woods, from which point, they’re on their own,’ said Millie rather sadly.
Jake frowned.
‘They wouldn’t want it any other way,’ Max assured them. ‘They will want to be alone after all this time cooped up in jail.’
‘Then we make a run for it, too. But if there’s any time at all, we’ll try to get some proof of what’s been going on from Arthur Shepard’s office, which is here.’ Millie shone a faint beam of light on the map and pointed at it.
‘But if we can’t get it, it doesn’t matter,’ said Max. ‘We’re not going to get caught doing it.’
‘Agreed,’ said Millie. But her eyes burned at the prospect of letting Shepard get away with it. ‘Is everyone ready?’ she asked.
‘Ready,’ said the other two.
‘Then let’s go to work,’ she said, flicking off the torch.
A few hundred yards away, Arthur Shepard’s ears should have been burning, were there any truth in the old wives’ tale. He was still in his office, even though it had gone eleven o’clock at night. He was waiting for a van to arrive at eleven fifteen, to ship the cats off to another laboratory in Lincolnshire where no one would find them – at least not for a while. Not until it didn’t matter, anyway. He had been at work since dawn finalising these arrangements and smoothing things over with his boss, another rich yet unpleasant men, and he was extremely tired and cross. He looked at the clock on the wall and felt his eyelids droop, simply too heavy to stay open much longer.
A few miles away, an unmarked white van turned merrily down a small road which the driver erroneously thought would lead him to the Haverham laboratory. He would drive several more miles before he realised his mistake, performed a U-turn, and drove back to the main road to try again.
The Great Escape Page 8
