“This is a rather remote place to locate the headquarters of your business, Mr. Mallory,” Jennifer said. “Do you mind if I ask why you chose Newton?”
“Precisely because it is remote,” he replied. “We could have set up in one of the big cities, or even a medium-sized town, but that was never the idea. Quality of life is what we offer our employees.”
“That’s very noble.”
“Not noble,” Mallory said, “sensible. It’s good business to have happy employees. Happy families. Successful kids.” He leaned forward to speak to Henry. “Someone told me you were quite the star in the pool at your last school.”
Henry shrugged. “I was in the swim team. I don’t know about star…”
“Oh, don’t be so modest! We’ve got an Olympic-sized pool that you’re going to love. I’ll arrange an introduction with Coach Tyler.” Mallory pointed to a large building in the distance. “That’s the education complex. Kindergarten right through to high school. Three hundred students, small classes. Everyone gets their own laptop – staff and students.”
“Laptop!” Jennifer said in the back. “Sounds cool, huh, Henry?”
“Yeah,” Henry replied uncertainly. In his experience, school laptop meant a machine the weight of a sink loaded with software from the turn of the century…though something told him it might be a different story here.
“Lecture hall, computer suites, orchestra room,” Mallory continued, like he was checking items off a list. “Art studio.”
Henry looked round and saw Mallory’s eyes glinting with a kind of mischief.
“Do you like art, Henry?”
“Yeah,” he replied cautiously. Something told him that Mallory knew everything about his previous run-in with the cops. “When I get the chance.”
“Well, you’ll find plenty of chances here. Within the studio.”
Jennifer hurriedly changed the subject. “When does school start again, Mr. Mallory?”
“On Monday,” he said, all the intensity gone from his voice as he sat back. “That gives Henry a couple of days to get settled in. Make new friends. And, please, call me John.”
She gave an uncharacteristic giggle. “Okay…John.”
Henry looked round at her and the wheels of the buggy scraped a low wall bordering the roadway.
“Woah, eyes on the road, chief!” Mallory said with a laugh as Henry turned his attention back to the steering wheel.
“Sorry.”
“And here we are,” Mallory said, indicating a group of a dozen two-storey houses built on a slight incline. They were made of blue-painted wood and glass and their roofs sloped all the way down to the ground on either side. They looked as if they’d been plucked straight from the side of some Swedish lake. “We call these the blue lodges, for obvious reasons. You’re number six.” He pulled a key card from his pocket and passed it to Henry. “I’ll let you explore by yourself, while I show your mom where she’ll be working. How does that sound?”
Henry looked round at Jennifer, who nodded to him. A dark-haired kid dressed in black jeans and a band T-shirt emerged from behind one of the lodges. He started walking across the grass, squinting at the sun as if it hurt his eyes. Mallory stood up in the back and waved him over.
“Christian!”
The kid’s dark expression immediately brightened and he ran over to the buggy.
“Henry, this is Christian,” Mallory said by way of introduction. “His family arrived here just a couple of months ago, so he’s a newcomer too. Isn’t that right?”
“That’s right, sir,” Christian replied.
“Perhaps you’d like to show Henry around. Take him to the cool places to hang out in the complex. How does that sound to you?”
Christian’s perky expression didn’t waver. “Swell!”
Mallory smiled approvingly. “Off you go then.”
Henry climbed out of the buggy. Mallory took over the driver’s seat and Jennifer joined him in the front.
“You boys behave yourselves now,” Mallory said, sending the buggy speeding off across the grass away from the residential area. “Don’t do anything us olds wouldn’t do!”
“Sure thing, Mr. Mallory!” Christian called after him. The buggy disappeared over an incline and the boy looked at Henry for the first time. The fixed grin on his face had melted away. “Got any smokes?”
“Uh, no.”
Christian shrugged and reached into his pocket to produce a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “Let’s go to your place. My dad’s on to me.”
“The first thing you’ve got to learn about Malcorp,” Christian said, “is that it’s easier to go with the flow than against it.” He was sitting on the marble kitchen counter in Henry’s new home. Periodically he would take a drag on the cigarette and then blow the smoke at the extractor fan in the ceiling, which he’d turned on full. “Know what I mean?”
“I guess so,” Henry said. “Do you want to smoke that outside?” He knew that if his mom came back and smelled smoke in the kitchen he’d be explaining himself all evening.
Christian shook his head. “Security cameras catch you every time. Whole place is full of them. Sure you don’t want one?”
“No. Those things’ll kill you.”
Christian blew more smoke at the fan and began a coughing fit. “You’re probably right,” he said with effort. “But I find it’s important to hang on to some vices.”
He jumped off the counter and tossed the cigarette butt into the drain before hitting a button on the wall. A garbage crusher whirred furiously for a few seconds. Christian slapped his hands together and grinned at Henry. “And the evidence is gone.”
“Right,” Henry said looking around the kitchen. Every appliance, every surface appeared brand new, never used.
“You’re from the city?” Christian asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, you can forget that life. You have to make your own entertainment here.”
“What about Newton?” Henry asked.
Christian pulled a strangulated face. “You’ve seen Newton, right? Oh, it’s a party town, as long as your idea of a party is shopping for socks followed by a trip to the garden centre.”
Henry laughed and walked through to the lounge. It was about as big as their entire apartment had been back in the city and was decked out with a huge TV, Blu-ray surround sound and even a games machine. Large windows set high in the wall caught the afternoon sunlight, bathing the room in a golden glow that matched the wooden walls and warm colours of the furniture. It looked like something from a better homes feature in a magazine.
“Yeah, there are some perks,” Christian admitted, coming to his side. “But believe me, after a couple of weeks here, you’ll be going crazy.”
“Yeah? My mom has been saying I’d go crazy when I saw this place,” Henry said with a smile.
Christian flopped into an armchair. “You know what my dad’s been saying to me?” He put on a gruff, enraged voice. “Show some appreciation for what you’ve been given, you little punk. Have a little respect for your elders.”
Henry raised an eyebrow at him. “You obviously get on well.”
“Oh, yeah. He’s one of those follow the rules, respect for authority guys. We’ve got a lot in common.”
Henry frowned. “That’s the second time today I’ve heard that.”
“What?”
“Follow the rules, respect for authority.”
“From who? Mr. Big-shot Mallory?”
“No. Some small-town cop who gave me a hard time on the way here.”
“He wouldn’t happen to be about three metres tall and have aviator shades for eyes, would he?”
“That sounds like him.”
“Trooper Dan.”
“You’ve run into him?”
“Not up close, thank god,” Christian replied. “He swaggers around Newton, enforcin’ the laaaw.” He said these last words in an exaggerated drawl that was a pretty good impersonation of the cop’s accent. “Got something
going on with Mallory.”
“What’s Mallory got to do with the cops?”
Christian looked at him as if he was being dense. “Malcorp owns Newton. So what Mr. Mallory says goes and Trooper Dan makes sure that it happens. Drop a piece of litter on the high street and old Dan will make you pick it up with your butt cheeks, boy.”
Henry laughed. “So that’s what all the yes, Mr. Mallory…no, Mr. Mallory was about out there, huh? You worried Trooper Dan is going to make you pick up one of your cigarette butts while it’s still alight?”
“Being a teen rebel comes with certain risks,” Christian replied, spreading his hands. “Just don’t underestimate Trooper Dan. From time to time reporters show up in Newton uninvited. You know, trying to get the inside scoop on what goes on in Malcorp’s toy town? I’ve heard they tend to wake up the next day on the county line with seven bells of crap beaten out of them.”
“Right.”
Christian shrugged. “Don’t believe me if you don’t want to, just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He pushed himself out of the chair with a grunt of effort. “Come on, I said I’d introduce you to the robots…I mean, the locals.”
Henry checked his cell phone as they walked across the grass towards the leisure centre. He’d had no reception since about half an hour before they’d got to Newton.
“Forget it,” Christian said. “You can barely get a bar, even in town.”
Henry held up the cell and waved it around. “Is there a law against cell towers round here?”
“Funny, huh? This place has every modern convenience except phone reception. They say it’s the trees, but I think they don’t want us communicating with the outside world.”
Henry gave him a look as he pocketed the phone. “That sounds kinda paranoid.”
Christian shrugged. “And we haven’t even started talking about how they read your emails.”
“Right,” Henry said with a laugh. Then he noticed that the other kid wasn’t smiling. “Wait a minute. You’re not kidding?”
“About the emails? No. And that’s not to mention the censorship of certain websites from the facility internet connection. If Malcorp doesn’t like a site, you don’t get access.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Don’t take my word for it. Ask Mallory or one of his suits. They’ll give you ten good reasons why the web should be censored. Number one is how it’s for the safety of our children, as I remember.”
“What is this, North Korea?”
Christian snorted. “Yeah. With jocks.” He indicated a tall, blond kid approaching from the leisure centre.
“Hey there,” the newcomer said pleasantly. “You must be Henry Ward. Coach Tyler told me to head over and show you the pool.”
“That’s where we were headed, Blake,” Christian said with a real edge to his voice.
The big kid looked at him without any sign of malice. “It’s just you were late, so…”
“Late?” Christian snapped. “This isn’t a town meeting. We’re not on a schedule.”
“It’s okay,” Henry said, trying to work out what the problem was. Perhaps Christian didn’t like jocks – and Blake was just about the most stereotypical jock he’d ever seen. “We were going there right now.”
Christian shrugged. “Well, Winklevoss is here, so I’ll skip the rest of the tour. I’ve got better things to do.” With that, he stuffed his bony hands in his pockets and trudged away in the other direction.
“Hey, come on, dude!” Blake called after him. “Don’t be like that!”
Christian flipped a finger in their direction without looking round.
Blake shook his head. “Sheesh, that kid’s got a real attitude problem. Anyone would think he’s got something against us sporty guys.”
Blake spoke with such innocence that Henry wondered for a moment if the boy was joking, but his face was deadpan. Despite Blake’s size, there was a childish quality to his manner.
“Well, his loss if he doesn’t want to join the swim team,” Blake said as they carried on towards the leisure centre. “Or any team for that matter. Goodness knows, me and the other fellas have tried hard enough to make him feel welcome, but I guess there’s just no helping some people.”
“I guess not,” said Henry, trying to decide what he found stranger, Christian’s affected rebel act or Blake’s way of talking like a kid from a 1950s sitcom.
Blake led Henry through into the sports centre, pointing out the track and field areas, the football and baseball pitches, and finally the gym and pool. Mallory hadn’t been lying – the pool was Olympic-sized, housed in a spectacular glass building. Most of the twelve lanes were occupied with swimmers powering through the water. Over to one side was a dive pool. As Henry and Blake walked towards the middle of the room, a teenage boy leaped from the high board, executed a perfect triple and hit the water like an arrow.
“Woah!” Blake said, pumping his fist in the air as the kid broke the surface. “Way to go, Steve! Nice dive!”
The kid in the water grinned and waved.
“We’ve got a pretty solid programme,” Blake said to Henry as they walked on. “I’m not on the swim team myself – I’m all about football – but I’ve heard Coach Tyler is the best.”
Henry nodded. The facilities were impressive. “So what competitions has the team entered?”
“Well, we have a sports day at the end of every school year. And the coach is always throwing races into the mix—”
“No,” Henry interrupted. “I mean, what trophies has the team won?”
Blake looked at him blankly.
“You compete against other schools, right?”
“Why would we want to go to other schools to swim? We have the best facilities in the state right here!”
“You mean you don’t take part in any competitions outside Newton?”
“There’s more to being part of a team than just winning trophies, Henry,” Blake said.
The patronizing tone in the other kid’s voice annoyed Henry suddenly. “I know that, Blake. But healthy competition increases motivation.”
“Well, I think you’ll find we have all the motivation we need right here at Malcorp.”
Henry frowned. He’d never heard of a school team that didn’t get involved in local competitions. “What about the football team then? Who do they play?”
Blake laughed as if the answer was obvious. “Simple. We have two teams and they play one another every Friday night. I tell you, there’s been some pretty exciting games this year…”
“You must be Ward! I can spot a swimmer’s physique a mile off.”
Henry turned to see a stocky, middle-aged guy walking towards them. He wore a faded pair of track pants and a T-shirt that read Malcorp Swim.
“This is Coach Tyler,” Blake introduced them.
The coach reached out and gave Henry a predictably bone-crushing handshake. “I’m looking forward to getting you in the pool. How about a trial sometime this week?”
“Sounds good,” Henry said, and the coach gave him a wide grin, revealing a row of crooked teeth. It seemed to Henry that this man was the most normal person he’d met all day. He liked him immediately.
“Friday afternoon then,” the coach confirmed. Blake grinned at him too.
At least the locals are friendly, Henry thought, but then he remembered the girl from the gas station. What had she said?
No, not Newton.
“Hey, do you know a girl called Gabrielle Henson?” Henry asked impulsively.
The coach shook his head. “Don’t know the name. She a friend of yours?”
“Not really,” Henry said, suddenly feeling a bit stupid for asking. What was she to him? “Just someone I met. She gave me the impression she might be from Newton.”
“Well, she isn’t a swimmer. Might be in one of the compulsory classes, but I mostly only remember the kids with an interest.” He looked over at Blake. “Is there a girl called Gabrielle Henson at the high school?”
<
br /> Blake turned and Henry saw that the blood had drained from his face.
“Yoo-hoo, Blake!” the coach said, waving his hand at him. “Anybody home?”
“Huh?”
The kid called Steve had been listening to their conversation from the side of the pool. Now he pulled himself out, dripping water. “No, coach,” he said, wiping his eyes as he stood. “There’s no girl with that name here.” Something in the kid’s tone made Henry certain that he was lying.
Blake looked at Steve and then said unconvincingly, “That’s right, coach. Never heard of her.”
The coach shrugged at Henry. “Well, there you go. Perhaps she was talking about one of the other towns around here.”
“Perhaps, but—”
He was interrupted as a kid across the dive pool shouted to the coach that he had a telephone call. The man excused himself, reminding Henry to be at the pool on Friday afternoon after school. As he hurried away, Henry turned back to Blake, who was suddenly unable to meet his eyes.
“Tell me about Gabrielle Henson,” he said.
Blake kept looking at his feet, so it was Steve who answered. “Didn’t we make it clear? She doesn’t go to school here.” His manner was sharp and unfriendly.
“That’s funny,” Henry said, not backing down, “because I met her this afternoon in a gas station toilet. She was on the run and looked like she’d been living rough for about a week.”
“And you think she’s from Malcorp?” Steve said, as if the very idea was distasteful. “A girl who hangs around gas station toilets?”
“She seemed familiar with Newton,” Henry replied.
Steve sniggered loudly. “You’re new, so I’ll make this nice and simple for you. The hick kids from Newton get scholarships to the school here in the facility, but mostly they just sit at the back of class and look stupid. It makes everyone feel better, I guess. Maybe she was one of those. I wouldn’t remember.”
“Take it easy, Steve,” Blake said meekly.
“I’ll take it easy when I feel like it,” he snapped, before turning his attention back to Henry. “Any other stray skanks you ran into that you’d like to ask about?”
The Adjusters Page 3
