by Amy Cross
“Our man will want to do the work himself,” the man says. “I'll see about getting him in tomorrow.”
“And then we can conclude our business?”
“If this thing is what you say it is, and what it looks like...”
His voice trails off for a moment.
“I don't get it,” he adds finally. “I don't get how these things could have existed for all this time, yet nobody actually caught one or had any proof until now. Mr. Flemyng apparently had suspicions, he's been searching all this time, but he never had any luck.”
“I was aware of that,” Mr. Randall says. “That's why you were the first person I called when this opportunity arose.”
“I appreciate that. As soon as I spoke to Mr. Flemyng, I heard the interest in his voice. This is a very, very big deal to him.”
“The history of this species is fascinating,” Mr. Randall replies. “I only know the basics, but Catherine Sykes spent a lot of money chasing them down. Their natural habitats are under threat, which seems to be the main reason why they've become a little more visible in recent years.”
“And you're sure this is the last one left in the world?”
“As sure as we can be, but obviously I can't guarantee that. Mr. Flemyng is obviously welcome to go and hunt for some others, if he prefers.”
“Oh, I think he'll be happy to just buy this one off you. And frankly, I don't think he'll balk at the price you've suggested at all.”
They're selling the mermaid!
Horrified, I watch her in the center of the tank. I don't know why she's so willing to let them see her. A moment later I lean forward slightly, and the hairs on the back of my neck start ruffling.
Suddenly Mr. Randall starts to turn, and I let the door swing shut. I don't think he would have seen me, but I can't be certain. A moment later I hear the two of them talking, and I realize they're coming this way, so I look around before hurrying through one of the open doors. Finding myself in what seems like a store-room, I step out of view just as Mr. Randall and the man emerge into the corridor, and then I hold my breath as they walk past.
“He has no interest in exhibiting the thing,” the man is saying. “This will be for his private collection. I think so, anyway. He hasn't really talked about his motivations. As I'm sure you've heard, he's a very private man. He's become increasingly reclusive in recent years.”
I wait as they disappear into one of the other rooms. Mr. Randall seems not to have noticed that I'm down here, and finally I let out a sigh of relief. I'd have been in trouble if I'd been caught, but then again, part of me wants to get caught so that I can tell them I know what's happening. They haven't told me anything about selling the mermaid, so they must have deliberately kept all of that a secret. For a moment I feel myself starting to get angry, but then I realize that getting angry won't help.
I need to do something to save the mermaid.
“I thought I heard something in here.”
Startled, I turn to find Doctor Collier watching me from an open doorway.
“You're not supposed to be down here,” he continues, sounding exhausted. “Relax, Ms. Sykes, I'm not going to rat you out. You should make sure that Randall doesn't spot you, though. He's playing things close to his chest and he won't like anything that risks screwing up his big deal.”
Taking a step back, I start wondering whether I should run for the elevator.
“You're so lucky,” he adds. “Your mother's company is worth, what, ten billion? More, even? You're going to inherit all of that, which means you'll never be short of money.” He pauses, before taking a step toward me. “Do you know the best thing about having money?” he continues. “Not that I have much myself, but I've been around the block a few times. The best thing about having money is that you don't have to compromise your beliefs. You don't have to get your hands dirty just so you can find enough money to continue your work.”
“I should go upstairs,” I tell him, not really understanding what he means.
“It's blood money,” he says, holding his hands up for me to see. “I've got blood all over my hands.”
“I don't see any blood,” I tell him nervously.
Maybe it's invisible blood.
Maybe mermaid blood is invisible.
“It's a metaphor,” he says with a chuckle. “Never mind, kid.”
“Who are they selling her to?” I ask. “What does that man want with her?”
“I've got no idea,” Doctor Collier replies, “but I can hazard a good guess. I reckon he's going to put her in some fancy private collection, and he's going to go and look at her every day and feel huge satisfaction from the knowledge that he's the only one with a real, live mermaid. It's the same reason people collect great artworks and stick them out of sight. The problem is, she's not a piece of art. She's a living, breathing creature, and she's intelligent. She shouldn't be traded to the highest bidder.”
He pauses.
“And the medical, scientific side of this will be lost. The opportunities...”
His voice trails off.
I step toward the door, getting ready to run.
“All I can promise you,” he continues, “is that I'll be using my cut for good work. For the kind of work that really matters to me. I'll always know that I compromised my morals to get the money, but I'll try to work off that burden some day. My third of the sale money is going to go to marine conservation work. Maybe that'll never be enough to take the stain off my character, but at least some good will come of it.” He looks down at his hands. “If I can ever manage to live with myself, that is.”
“I have to go now,” I tell him, backing out into the corridor.
“I won't tell anyone you were here,” he replies. “I promise. I'm not a snitch, Ms. Sykes. I'm just a man who has to hold his nose and do the wrong thing for twenty-four more hours. Your mother was a good woman, and while I didn't approve of her methods, I understood why she did what she did. She wanted a cure for cancer, and she thought this approach might help. I even respect her for that. But she's not here now, so I just have to take the money and run.”
Turning, I hurry along the corridor. I don't know how long I've been down here, but it must be at least ten minutes and I'm worried that Ms. Harper might have gone back to the kitchen and found that I'm missing. When I get to the elevator, I'm relieved to find that the chamber is still waiting for me, and when I get back up into the apartment I step out into the hallway and listen for any sign that I'm in trouble.
Suddenly the bathroom door unlocks and opens, and Ms. Harper steps out.
“Sylvia?” she says, clearly shocked to see me. “Why aren't you in the kitchen?”
She glances past me, toward the elevator.
She knows.
“Were you about to sneak down there?” she asks.
I hesitate, before realizing that I only have one way to cover my tracks.
“Yes,” I lie. “I was about to. I'm sorry, that was wrong of me.”
“Yeah, it would have been really wrong,” she says, coming over and taking hold of my hand before leading me back toward the kitchen. “How many times have I told you? You're not allowed down there just yet.”
“Sorry,” I reply, lying because I know I have to. “I won't do it again.”
But as she leads me into the kitchen, I'm already trying to think of some way I can save the mermaid. At first I start thinking that I'll have to sneak down and find some way to get her out of here, but then as we reach the kitchen I glance out the window and spot something moving in a window of a nearby building. I stop and watch for a moment, and when I squint I'm just about able to see a woman working at a desk. I hesitate for a moment, until the woman steps out of view, and then all of a sudden I realize that I've got a plan.
I know how to save the mermaid.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It's five minutes past midnight and I'm wide awake.
Next to me in the bed, Ms. Harper is mumbling in her sleep. For the past fe
w nights, she's taken to sleeping in here with me. She says it's because she's worried about me, but I'm starting to think that she actually wants to keep an eye on what I'm doing. I've been waiting for her to fall asleep, and I think it's finally time for me to start on my plan.
Very carefully, I start climbing out of the bed, while making sure that I don't make any noise. It takes me a couple of minutes to get all the way over to the door, but by that point Ms. Harper is still mumbling as she sleeps, so I open the door and slip out into the brightly-lit corridor, and then I very gently pull the door shut.
I made it.
My heart is racing and I'm terrified, but I can see the elevator ahead and I know what I have to do. I start walking along the corridor, while running over the plan in my mind. Ever since I spotted that woman in another building, I've come to understand that I'm not the only person who can help the mermaid. Mr. Randall and the others might be planning to sell her, but I can stop all of that if I get out of the building and fetch help. I can ask the police to come, and then the mermaid will be taken back to where she belongs.
She'll be released back into the sea.
I grab my coat and shoes from the rack and slip them on. Then, reaching the elevator, I press the button to bring the chamber up. As I wait, I glance over my shoulder to make sure that no-one has heard me, and then I turn just as the elevator door slides open.
“Good evening, Sylvia,” Mr. Randall says with a smile.
Startled, I step back and trip, falling down onto my bottom.
“Were you planning to go somewhere?” he asks. “I couldn't help but notice that you seemed very quiet at dinner, and that you were keen to get to bed. That struck me as odd, and I started wondering if you were planning something. I didn't want to believe that could be true, Sylvia. I didn't want to believe that you'd tell a lie or keep a secret, but I thought I should wait just in case.”
He steps forward.
“Besides,” he adds, “you already lied to me once today.”
Trying not to panic, I shake my head.
“Yes you did,” he continues. “I could see it in your eyes. Children are never good liars, Sylvia. At dinner, I asked what you'd done today, and you only told me about your work with Ms. Harper. You didn't tell me about when you snuck down earlier and eavesdropped on my conversation with the visitor. Or did you seriously believe that I didn't spot you peering through a crack in the open door?”
“I didn't mean to!” I stammer. “I just wanted to see the mermaid!”
“And is that where you're going now?” he asks. “To see the mermaid?” He looks down at my coat, then at my shoes, and then he looks at my face again. “The funny thing is, you seem to be dressed for a trip outside, but why would you do such a thing in the middle of the night? You must have been outside less than half a dozen times in your entire life, Sylvia. So where could you be going at this late hour?”
“I'll go back to bed,” I reply, getting to my feet. “It doesn't matter. I'll just go back to bed.”
“So you can try to sneak out again later?”
I shake my head.
“Give it a rest,” he says with a sigh. “You've become sneaky, Sylvia, but there's really no need. I think there's been a terrible misunderstanding, which I'll set right in the lounge. Come on, let's go and talk. Like adults.”
“I don't want to,” I reply.
“You don't have a choice. This is important. Now come to the lounge.”
He steps past me and heads along the corridor, before stopping and glancing back at me.
“Don't try to go to the elevator again, Sylvia,” he says firmly. “Come with me. Right now.”
With that, he turns and walks through the door that leads into the lounge, leaving me standing all alone in the corridor. I turn and look at the elevator, and for a moment I imagine what would happen if I got into the chamber and tried to go all the way to the ground floor, but then I realize that Mr. Randall would probably find a way to stop me. My heart is beating faster than ever, and I try to work out what Mother would want me to do. She always trusted Mr. Randall, and she was always right about things, but this time I think maybe even she would know that's something's wrong.
So I step into the chamber.
“Sylvia?”
I turn just as Ms. Harper comes out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. As soon as she sees me, I panic and touch the button to send the elevator down, and the door starts sliding shut. At the very last moment, however, Ms. Harper races over and puts her foot in the way, before forcing the door open and then grabbing my arm.
“What the hell are you doing?” she shouts, pulling me out into the corridor. “Sylvia, you can't just get up in the middle of the night! Didn't you hear what Mr. Randall and I told you?”
“Bring her in here,” Mr. Randall calls out from the lounge. “She knows that we need to have a little talk.”
“Let go of me!” I hiss, trying to pull away from her. Finally I manage to slip free, but then I realize that there's no way I can sneak into the elevator now.
Maybe later, but definitely not now.
Even though I just want to go back to bed and try to come up with another plan, I turn and start walking toward the lounge. Every step feels heavy, and I can't help thinking that I'm a failure, and by the time I get to the doorway I just want to turn and run away. Instead, I stop as I see Mr. Randall standing at the large window, silhouetted against the lights of the skyscrapers. He's staring out at the world, watching all the lights as they twinkle and burns against the night sky.
“I'm glad you tried to leave,” he says after a moment, not turning to look at me. “It's a good sign, Sylvia. It shows that you're growing up, that you can think for yourself. Your mother would be proud.”
I swallow hard, and a moment later I hear footsteps behind me.
Turning, I see that Ms. Harper is watching me from the corridor. It's obvious that if I try to run, she'll stop me, so instead I turn back to look at Mr. Randall.
“Sometimes, Sylvia,” he continues, “you get an opportunity and you have to take it. There's not even enough time to think, not properly. You tried to take an opportunity just now, and it's really only bad luck that stopped you. I wasn't suspicious of you yesterday. If you'd tried to run yesterday, you'd have made it out of the building and then I can only imagine what you might have done. I'm sure it would have been a very big mistake.”
“I wasn't going to leave,” I lie, although I'm desperately trying to work out what Mother would have done in a situation like this.
“Please don't lie again,” Mr. Randall replies, before stepping over to a table and switching on one of the lamps. Turning to me, he looks so calm and collected. “What do you think would happen to that mermaid if we turned her over to the authorities? I already told you, Sylvia, she'd be butchered. The government would be sharing pieces of her with the Americans, the Russians, with anyone who wanted to take a look. She'd be considered a national security risk and she'd never be free again. She'd end up -”
“You're going to sell her!” I blurt out.
He hesitates.
“We're going to transfer her to another facility, yes.”
“And what'll happen to her then?”
“Then she'll be looked after.”
“She will be,” Ms. Harper says behind me, but when I turn to look at her I can see the doubt in her eyes. “She will be,” she says again, as if that'll make it more convincing, and then she looks at Mr. Randall. “You promised.”
“I did,” he replies.
I turn to him.
“We're doing the absolute best thing for her,” he continues, coming across the room and stopping just a few feet from me. “Your mother believed in me, Sylvia. You don't think your mother would get something like that wrong, do you? Your mother had every faith in me, and she knew that I'd take care of all her affairs once she was gone.” He reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder. “That includes you. And ignoring this little wobble for a moment, I'm su
re you'll understand that I have everybody's best interests at heart. You do understand that, Sylvia, don't you? You must surely trust your mother's faith in me.”
Staring up at him, I suddenly feel stupid, as if I've completely misunderstood everything. Maybe he's telling the truth, maybe he really is just trying to help the mermaid. Maybe I'm an idiot.
“I think so,” I say finally, even though the words feel wrong. “I mean... I think so.”
“Tell me you have faith in me, Sylvia.”
I open my mouth, but it takes a moment before I can actually say the words:
“I have faith in you.”
“Tell me you trust me to do the right thing.”
“I trust you.”
“Tell me you wouldn't dishonor your mother's memory by going against her wishes.”
“I wouldn't dishonor her memory.”
“That's good,” he replies with a smile, and now he seems relieved. “You're a wise little girl, Sylvia. Wise beyond your years. Now how about you and Ms. Harper have some ice cream, while I -”
Suddenly a beeping sound fills the air, and Mr. Randall turns to look out at the hallway.
“What's going on?” Ms. Harper asks, her voice immediately filled with concern.
“It's the alarm system,” Mr. Randall replies, and he also sounds tense. Pushing past me, he hurries out into the corridor and through to Mother's study.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“What does it mean?” Ms. Harper calls out, heading over to the doorway.
I follow and see that Mr. Randall is now at the elevator, jabbing at the buttons.
“The elevator isn't working,” he explains. “Something must have tripped the system into an emergency shutdown.”
“Maybe it's just a random thing,” Ms. Harper suggests. “Like... an error or something.”
Mr. Randall turns to us, and I can immediately see from the look on his face that he's worried. A moment later he turns and hurries back into the study, and I hear him tapping at Mother's computer.
“Something's definitely tripped the system,” he calls through to us. “There's one alert in the main lab and another at the roof-top exit. If I didn't know better, I'd say that somebody's trying to isolate the upper part of the building.”
