by Simon Mayo
“Lucy! What happened?” asked Itch. She ignored him, or maybe she hadn’t heard, and Itch followed the direction of her stare.
Dr. Dart had given Polly her certificate and voucher, and had turned to Mary. “Dr. Hampton tells me that this piece of work on acids and bases was quite wonderful.” Then, addressing the school, “Mary’s only been with us a few weeks, but Mr. Hampton is very impressed. He says Mary handed in an extraordinarily advanced piece of work. Well done, Mary—our final award for today.” She handed over the envelope and card. “And before you go to your next class, a big Cornwall Academy round of applause for this month’s winners.”
Itch clapped and cheered for Jack, but froze as he saw Lucy stand up, pull her hood back and climb onto her seat. The applause started to die away as everyone turned. The teachers who had started to file out stopped in their tracks.
“Stop!” shouted Lucy. “Stop now!”
Itch felt the seats tremble. Dr. Dart, who had been leading the applause and smiling at the winners, held up her hands. Mary took a step back, behind the principal. Everyone was now staring at Lucy—those who hadn’t noticed her earlier gasping in shock at her appearance. The hall went silent.
Lucy was swaying slightly, and Itch wondered if he should help her, but thought better of it. Mr. Watkins, who was the nearest member of staff, started to approach her but stopped as Dr. Dart spoke.
“Good heavens, Lucy, why are you here? You should be home recovering! Mr. Watkins, will you—”
But then Lucy spoke again. Wiping the blood from her mouth, she pointed her smeared finger at Mary Lee. “It … was … her!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “It … was … her!” The last word was more of a scream. “She’s the one who attacked me and did this!”Mr. Watkins was now at Lucy’s side and made to reach for her arm, but she brushed him away.
On the stage all the award winners were dividing their attention between the impassive Mary Lee and the demented Lucy Cavendish. Jack looked from Lucy to Itch, and then noticed Chloe in the front row with her hands over her mouth. A few students who had been taking photos of the award winners had swung their phones around and were now videoing Lucy. Their close-ups showed her bloodied and bruised face, her matted hair, and her wild, tear-filled eyes.
Dr. Dart found her voice again. “Lucy, stop that now—get down from the chair and we’ll discuss this in my office. If you—”
But Lucy hadn’t finished; Itch saw and heard her take a huge breath.
“And her name isn’t Mary!” The words rang around the old hall. Now Lucy held up the sandals so Mary could see them.
The only movement was from Kirsten, Moz, and Sam Singh, who had heard enough and were starting to edge their way closer to the front.
“Her name isn’t Mary Lee!” Lucy, her voice now higher and louder, pointed at the stage again. “Her name is Shivvi Tan Fook!”
The impact of the name on Itch, Jack, and Chloe was instantaneous. They each looked stunned, and then terrified.
Shivvi…
The woman who had gone to prison after the catastrophic oil leak in Nigeria.
Flowerdew’s colleague.
It was Shivvi.
Itch’s mind was a confused whirl and he looked around frantically for Moz; when their eyes met, he shouted, “Get Jack!”
The award winners on the stage looked confused and awkward. Dr. Dart spun around just in time to see Shivvi leap up the steps to the backstage area and disappear into the corridor.
Moz vaulted onto the stage and grabbed Jack. Itch helped Lucy down from the chair, and Mr. Watkins led her slowly out of the hall. Itch climbed over the seats to Chloe, at which point Sam pulled them both down onto the floor and held them there.
“Tina, get the car here now!” he called into his lapel mic. “Rachel, get Mary Lee—she’s probably coming your way.” Rachel Taylor was out patrolling the grounds but was far away on the playing fields.
Seeing the security team in action caused panic. Some pupils screamed and ran for the exits. Once the rush had begun, most of the others joined in. Dr. Dart called for calm, but no one was listening, and within seconds she was the only one left on the stage. When the main doors became jammed with students, some of the staff opened the emergency exits, triggering the fire alarms. Hundreds of students ran out of the hall and onto the playing fields; a hardy few lurked in the doorways, recording what they could. And then running.
As the hall emptied, Itch, Jack, and Chloe remained crouched on the floor, with Moz and Sam standing over them, hands hovering near their holsters.
“Take charge out there, Dr. Dart, and we’ll take care of things in here!” Sam shouted above the clanging bells.
Itch, Jack, and Chloe all started talking and shouting at the same time:
“That was Shivvi! Oh my God, I can’t believe it,” said Jack.
“Shivvi? That can’t have been her!” Chloe still looked stunned.
Moz and Sam looked at each other.
“You guys know who she is, right? Shivvi Tan Fook. She worked for Greencorps and was Flowerdew’s pal,” said Itch. “She went to prison instead of him after they caused that oil spill in Lagos. We found her name when we were looking up stuff on Flowerdew.”
Sam whistled. “Are you sure you have the right person? She doesn’t look old enough to have been in prison.”
“Well, she ran away, didn’t she?” Itch pointed out. “If she really was Mary Lee, she wouldn’t have taken off like that.”
“But how did Lucy know?” asked Jack. “Where did she get Shivvi’s name from?”
Kirsten Jones ran into the hall. “Tina’s ready—let’s go!” She led the way past the deserted labs and classrooms to the main entrance, then bundled them into the waiting van.
As they roared away, Moz called Rachel. “Where is she, Rach? Need to know! Now!”
Rachel Taylor’s breathless voice crackled into his earpiece, “Never saw her. The car’s gone too. I was on the other side of the grounds. Sorry.”
A week of unceasing rain and plunging temperatures accompanied Itch, Jack, and Chloe’s “house arrest,” as they had taken to calling it. After the revelation of Shivvi’s infiltration of the school, serious questions were being asked about the entire security operation. And while that was happening, the academy was out of bounds. In fact, anywhere outside the two houses was out of bounds. And Colonel Fairnie had once again insisted that Jack move into her cousins’ house. The confinement was driving everybody crazy.
Itch and Chloe had their own rooms, and Jack had taken Gabriel’s. The three of them enjoyed each other’s company; it was just everything else that was getting rough. The security team was on edge, and Nicholas and Jude were doing lots of shouting—sometimes at the children, sometimes at the MI5 team, but most of the time at each other. One morning Itch and Chloe sat on the stairs for twenty minutes waiting for a particularly nasty argument to finish.
Jude’s “I see no reason why I should ever trust you again!” had distressed Chloe the most. Appalled, she looked at Itch and mouthed “Why is she saying that?” Itch had merely shrugged and studied the carpet. As a result, they spent lots of time in Gabriel’s—now Jack’s—room. Out of everybody’s way.
They texted everyone they knew to ask about Lucy. Dr. Dart had apparently called an ambulance and accompanied her to Stratton Hospital herself. Lucy now had twenty-four-hour police protection. The academy had opened as usual the following morning.
In the meantime the Loftes played every game they could find in the house and online. Itch was constantly changing the rules, which tried Jack’s and Chloe’s patience. They were quite happy to stick with the conventional way of playing, but Itch always liked to tinker. Games with seven cards now had to be tried with ten; chess had to be played without pawns, and Monopoly’s Chance cards all had to be rewritten.
Not content with this, Itch said he was going to design a Periodic Table version of Monopoly, which got him quite excited for a while. He had designed the board on his laptop,
with hydrogen and oxygen as the first two “properties,” and gold and platinum as the last two.
“Not sure about that,” he said as he studied the new board. “Californium is worth more per gram than gold, but there’s hardly any around. No one will want to collect that.”
They were lying on the floor in Jack’s room. It was the largest of the three, had less clutter, and the strongest Wi-Fi signal. As it was in the attic, it was also farthest away from the shouting.
“Itch, no one will want to collect any of it. I wouldn’t worry,” said Chloe.
But her brother hadn’t heard. “What if I put oxygen, sulfur, and selenium together? That’d be a cool set, wouldn’t it? And fluorine, chlorine, and bromine would go together…. Do you think the sets should be vertical or horizontal? C’mon, guys, what would look best? Help me out here.”
“I’ve got an idea,” said Jack. “How about if you land on arsenic, you go directly to jail?”
Chloe snorted. “Nice one, Jack!” It had been Itch’s sample of arsenic that had once been responsible for making most of his class sick.
Itch looked up. “Oh well, thanks a lot. If you’re not going to take it seriously …”
“Itch,” said Jack. “An element hunter’s Monopoly set is a great idea. Really it is. If you’re an element hunter. But I only know one, and he’s quite enough for anybody.” She got up to take a look at the screen. “Anyway, shouldn’t the most valuable square be you-know-what?”
“Quite right,” said Chloe. “Who wants boring, reliable gold and platinum when there’s much more exciting lofteium to collect?”
Fairnie had told Itch that element 126 might well end up being called this, if they ever found any more. Again, the memories of the Woodingdean Well flooded Itch’s mind and he shivered.
“I’ll be very happy if I never see any more 126 in my life.”
“Same here,” agreed Jack. “It can all stay exactly where it is. Forever.”
“I know you can’t tell us, but I still wonder where it ended up. I assume you threw it down a mine somewhere,” said Chloe. “I know you’re protecting Jack and me, but sometimes I’d love to be able to talk to you about it. There’s no one else …” She caught the look that passed between Itch and Jack. “Wait. What did that mean? Jack?”
There was a silence. Jack and Itch glanced at each other. Itch closed the laptop.
“Jack knows,” he said.
Chloe gasped.
“Look, it’s complicated, Chloe.”
“Try me,” she said, arms folded.
What can I say? thought Itch. She would be in so much more danger if she knew the location of the 126. And I can’t tell her about Dad not working on the rigs. Telling Jack was one thing, but Dad would freak if Chloe knew, too.
“She kinda guessed, really. She worked it out … and you really are better off not knowing. Trust me.”
“Really?” said Chloe. “You worked it out, Jack? Anyone else know, or am I the only one who’s in the dark?”
Itch had alarm bells going off in his head now. That’s what I said when Jack told me she knew what had happened, but if I mention Dad or Mr. Watkins she might start to piece the story together. And I’ve put her in enough danger already. I’m not going to make it worse. Even if it makes her mad.
“Chloe, I’d tell you if I could. Really. It would be great to sit here and chat about it all, but I don’t think—”
She went over to the door. “It’s fine. You just talk to Jack about it. Maybe tell me when I’m older,” she muttered as she left the room.
“When did she get to be so sarcastic?” said Itch.
“She’s got a point,” said Jack uncomfortably. “But she has protection and doesn’t know anything. Mr. Watkins knows everything and hasn’t got anyone looking after him.”
“I know. You’re right; maybe we should talk to Fairnie. Maybe he can persuade him.”
There was a silence. Itch had been waiting for Jack’s question.
“Do you think you’d have told Shivvi anything? You know, if she’d brought in that cesium you wanted to see, for example?”
“I’ve asked myself that, Jack. I was certainly amazed by that element collection …”
“Which she’d so obviously just bought.”
Itch nodded. “Which it looks like she bought. There was certainly no father around, that’s for sure.”
“And you liked her.”
“Jack, she’s twenty-five! She might look eighteen, but come on….”
“Well, you know she’s twenty-five now. But you didn’t know that when she was flashing her titanium and arsenic around, did you?”
They both grinned. They had the same smile and the family resemblance became—briefly—striking.
“OK, OK,” said Itch. “But listen, we have to work out whether Shivvi was operating on her own or not. Who would she work with? Greencorps?”
“Possibly,” said Jack. “In which case she might have had access to Flowerdew. Wherever he is.” She rubbed her hands together. “Maybe she’s locked him up instead. Or cast him adrift. I don’t care where he is as long as he’s miserable.”
There was a knock at the door and Sam looked in. “Kitchen in five please. The colonel wants a chat.” He smiled and disappeared.
“Hmm,” said Jack. “That’s never good news.”
“Unless he has news of how miserable Flowerdew is,” said Itch.
“Agreed. And if the answer is ‘very,’ this’ll be a good day.”
Everyone was crammed into the Lofte kitchen. Itch, Jack, Chloe, Nicholas, and Jude were sitting around the table, with the MI5 team standing. Colonel Fairnie had just come in, finishing a phone call as he did so.
“Oh hi—thanks, everyone. Here’s the latest for you. We’ve emptied the house Shivvi was staying in. Obviously she wasn’t expecting to leave as quickly as she did. Her laptop was useful, and her communications interesting. There weren’t too many photos, no videos—just a record of contacts here and in Nigeria. We think she escaped from prison in Lagos a few months ago, but the authorities there aren’t being helpful. Where she went after that isn’t known, but she came to the UK from Chile in August.” He looked at Tina, who checked her papers.
“Yes. The house here was rented online. The farmer says Lee paid monthly, up front, for a long-term rental. No cleaner.”
“There’s a surprise,” said Jack.
Jude Lofte had been tapping a pen against a magazine on the table, waiting for her moment.
“So,” she said, “a criminal who had just busted herself out of prison flew to England and got herself enrolled at our local school. My son and daughter and niece, the most heavily protected children of all time, were sharing a classroom with a murderer. Is that—roughly—right?”
Itch was familiar with this warm-up routine. Please let no one interrupt, he thought.
“That does appear to be—” the colonel began, but Jude hadn’t finished. She held up her hand to stop him.
“And this—forgive me—was just a few days after an armed gang of criminals from who-knows-where punched my daughter, then tried to kidnap my son, and would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for my husband.” Nicholas started to say something, but she stopped him. “You will forgive me, Colonel, if I don’t feel that this is going particularly well.”
There was an awkward silence before Itch, with a flushed face, said quietly, “They saved my life, Mum. Out there on the golf course and on the beach, they saved me. Dad was great, but if these guys hadn’t been there….” His voice trailed off, but then he added, “You’re being unfair.” He swallowed hard and Chloe smiled at him. He was expecting a volcano-size eruption from his mother, but this was headed off by his dad.
“Maybe you can assure us, colonel, that the school and MI5 will vet any future pupils better from now on? And of course, we are both grateful for the risks you’re all taking every day.” He smiled reassuringly while Jude stared straight ahead.
“Procedures are in place,”
said Fairnie, “and you are right to be angry about Shivvi Tan Fook. I’m angry too. We should have spotted her and we didn’t. We are sorry about that.”
“Do we know where she is now?” asked Jack.
“Unfortunately we have had no sightings. She escaped in her car. She’ll be holed up somewhere—Cornwall’s an easy place to hide yourself away in. Police, ports, and airports all have her details—she’s listed on Interpol now as an escaped prisoner—but my guess is she’s not going anywhere. Itch is who she wants, and she’ll be back.”
“Did she leave her whole element collection behind? It’s obviously not her father’s …” Itch ignored the groans from Chloe and Jack. “It’s just that she had some cool stuff.”
“She certainly did,” said Fairnie, “and we cataloged what’s been left behind. Some nice pieces. If no one claims them in three months, they’re yours.” Everyone laughed—even Jude. “Seriously, Itch, there’s nothing dangerous there, so once we’ve finished with fingerprints … if it’s all right with your parents….” The colonel was looking at Jude, but Itch was frowning and he put his hand up.
“Er, excuse me—well, there’s the cesium, of course. That counts as dangerous surely? Did you check that it’s OK?”
Fairnie looked at Sam, who had the inventory from Shivvi’s house; he started flicking through the pages.
“Element 55,” said Itch, trying to be helpful.
“Thank you,” said Sam irritably. “We didn’t catalog them in order of atomic weight”—he flicked over a few pages—“but no, there was no cesium in the house.”
“Are you sure she had some?” asked Fairnie.
“She showed me photos,” said Itch. “It’s in a glass tube—an old Russian one, according to Mr. Hampton. He told her she couldn’t bring it into school.”
