by Jack Higgins
Dad and Rich were waiting for her in the main reception area downstairs outside the school hall. Rich had been at computer club and was talking excitedly to Dad about it.
“Glad someone’s enjoyed himself,” said Jade. She slumped down on one of the chairs for visitors.
“You’d enjoy things more if you didn’t get into so much trouble,” Dad told her.
Jade tightened her lips. “I do enjoy being here,” she said. “There are places I’d rather be, but I’ve been in worse dumps. It’s OK.”
“Height of praise,” Dad said.
“And I do try. I want to learn. They just don’t realise it.”
“Maybe you don’t make it easy for them to realise it.” Dad held his hands up before she could reply. “We’ll talk about it later, all right. But I know what you mean, OK? It’s difficult fitting in and settling down, and if you don’t feel you’re being appreciated, that makes it even harder. I’m not going to tell you off or get upset. Let’s talk about how to make it work. Let me tell you something,” he went on in a low voice, “something that the teachers and staff here probably don’t realise themselves.”
“What’s that?” Jade folded her arms, but she was intrigued. Rich stepped closer as he listened too.
“You don’t work for them. You don’t do lessons and homework and everything else for their benefit. It took me a long time to work that out when I was at school, then one day it occurred to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“They work for you. All these people, they’re here to help you. We pay them. Well, actually, Ardman pays them right now, but it’s the same at every school whether it’s fees or taxes or whatever. We pay these people to think of ways to help you learn, to look at your work and tell you how you can improve. To get you through exams that will equip you for whatever you want to do when you’re older. But – and it’s a big but – they need your help too.” He stood up and offered a hand to Jade.
“Thanks.” She let him pull her up from the chair.
“Lecture over. But think about it. Right, time we were on our way.” He turned to go and suddenly froze.
“What is it?” Jade asked.
Dad was looking past her, back down the main corridor. His face was etched with concern.
Rich laughed. “It’s just Mr Argent.”
The little maths teacher had finished his marking and was walking slowly towards reception.
“That’s Mr Argent?” Dad said, still staring.
“Yeah,” said Jade. “Problem?”
Dad shook his head. “No. No problem at all.” He shrugged. “Just doesn’t look much like a maths teacher, that’s all.”
“What do maths teachers usually look like?” asked Rich.
“I don’t know. He isn’t what I expected. It’s no big deal.”
“I think he’s French,” Jade said. “Maybe French maths teachers look different.”
Mr Argent looked from Jade and Rich to their father. He opened his mouth to say something, but Dad got in first.
“Good to meet you, Mr Argent. I hear you’re new here. I’m Jade and Rich’s dad, but maybe you knew that?”
They shook hands. ‘No, I didn’t know that,” Argent said. “But now you mention it, I can tell.”
“So, how are they doing?”
Mr Argent nodded, looking from Rich to Jade. “Very well, I think. They both have ability. Rich is very applied. A little steady and safe in his work perhaps.”
“And Jade?” Dad asked. She folded her arms waiting for the criticism and the could-try-harder.
“Volatile,” Mr Argent said. “Obviously, we’re only a few days into term, but I think with a bit of commitment and interest she’ll do very well. When she pays attention and decides she wants to work at it, she has flashes of brilliance, if that’s not too strong a word.” He smiled and the light caught his glasses as he leaned forwards. “Yes, slow and steady might win the race, but it can be a little boring. You know, Rich could learn a lot from his sister.”
Jade’s mouth dropped open.
Dad seemed pensive and quiet on the walk home. He’d asked to have a few words with Mr Argent in private and sent Rich and Jade on ahead. As they made their way down the drive, Rich wondered if Dad was thinking about how to get Jade interested in school.
“Do you think Mr Argent is right?” he asked.
“What about?” asked Jade.
“About you,” Rich said.
“Course he’s right, I’m brilliant. You can learn a lot from me. That a problem?”
Rich shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter if he’s right,” Dad said, catching them up. “Though I expect he is.”
“How do you mean?” Jade asked.
“Just by saying what he did, he’s got you interested, hasn’t he? Might be a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“I like maths,” Jade said. “Maths is good.”
“I didn’t really rate Mr Argent as a teacher,” Rich said.
“Maybe not,” Dad told him. “But he understands people. Oh, and for your information, Jade, he isn’t French. He’s Swiss. Now, tomorrow I have to go to London.”
“What for?” Jade asked.
“I need to see Ardman about something. He’s not expecting me, so I might have to wait around. I could be quite late getting back. You be OK?”
“We’ll be fine,” Jade said. “Just so long as you’re not getting involved in anything dodgy.”
“Yes, well, that’s why I want to see Ardman – to make sure I’m not.”
“That’s OK,” Rich said. “We’re both busy after school tomorrow.”
“Really? What are you up to?”
“Drama club,” Rich told him. “I went last week. It was pretty good. Didn’t finish till late, remember?”
They were almost at the cottage now. “Good to see you getting into things a bit too, Jade,” Dad said. “These after school activities are important. It’s good to get involved.”
Rich coughed. “Nearly home,” he said. Jade said nothing.
“So what is it you’re signed up for after school tomorrow?” Dad asked.
“More detention,” said Jade.
8
Drama club ran from six till eight in the main school hall. Detention also finished at eight, and Jade had agreed to meet Rich in school reception as soon as they were both free so they could walk back home together. Tonight there were three of them in detention – Jade, Mike Alten and a boy called Rupam from the year below.
Once in the sixth form you didn’t get detention, Jade had learned. You were put on ‘jankers’ which meant you got an evening clearing out a ditch or cutting the grass or repainting the corridor. It sounded a lot more use than the maths exercises Mr Argent had set her, but she knew better than to complain – she’d learned that at least.
“Has your wallpaper really got bullet holes in it?” Mike Alten asked Jade quietly as they chose their places in the big classroom.
“Better believe it.”
“Wicked. Designer stuff, I suppose.”
Jade didn’t answer.
Mr Argent was talking quietly and urgently into his mobile. He ended the call, placed his phone carefully on the desk beside a pile of exercise books, and clapped his hands together for quiet. “Right, we’ll have silence now, please.” He sat down at his desk and started on the pile of exercise books, pausing only to tell Rupam not to tap his pen on the table.
Rich was enjoying himself. There were only eight students doing drama this week, all from Rich’s year and below as the sixth form had their own separate drama group. Most of them were girls – including Gemma Stroud who was in the same set as Rich for most things. They got on well and it was good to have someone there that he knew.
Miss Whitfield ran the group. She was young and enthusiastic and had started by getting them all to pretend to be clowns and mime putting on make-up in front of an imaginary mirror. Now, a boy from the year below was pretending to be a zookeeper washing a larg
e elephant inside a small cage. The rest of them watched from the front of the stage as he performed in the main area of the hall – which seemed a bit backwards to Rich. But with all the chairs put away, there was a lot more space.
At the back of the hall there was a gallery, like a wide balcony right across the width of the hall. The teachers sat up there for school assemblies, and there was a door at the back that led into a storeroom at the end of the maths corridor.
A long, low rumble of thunder came from outside. It was getting dark, Rich saw. Along both sides of the hall long windows reached almost to the ground. It was cloudy outside and he could definitely hear thunder. Summer was over and autumn was rolling in.
“Right, now we’re going to split up into pairs and take it in turns to wash elephants,” Miss Whitfield said.
“Gemma?” Rich asked at once.
“Why not. Got your elephant?”
“Never go anywhere without it,” Rich told her. “Keep it in my trunk.”
“Oh, ho ho.”
They jumped off the stage. The thunder was louder now. It sounded very close.
“Storm coming,” Gemma said as the sound rumbled on.
Everyone had spread out in the hall, leaving him and Gemma closest to the stage, opposite the emergency exit. Rich looked out through the glass of the doors again as the sound got even closer. There was another sound mixed in with it too. It was like gunfire. He smiled to himself – what a stupid idea.
There was someone running – heading straight for the doors. Silhouetted against the darkening sky outside. A woman. She was almost at the doors, but she showed no sign of slowing down.
“Look out!” Gemma shouted, seeing her too.
It did no good. The woman hit the double doors at full tilt, bursting them open. One door flew right round and hit the wall behind so hard the glass shattered. Everyone turned to look.
The woman crashed to the floor, one hand stretched out – clenched in a fist. But Rich barely noticed. He was staring at her face where it was turned against the floor, at the long auburn hair spread out over her back.
The back of the pale grey coat she was wearing was spattered with blood.
“She’s been shot!”
The woman’s fingers relaxed and opened. Something dropped from them, falling and rolling across the hall. It bounced across the floor towards Rich, its facets catching the light like glass.
Nothing else would be shaped like that.
Nothing else would sparkle like that.
It could only be a huge diamond.
“Oh, good God,” Miss Whitfield shrieked. “Careful now, everyone. Let me see if I can get some help. First aid.”
“Who is she?” someone else asked.
Miss Whitfield shifted from one foot to the other. “I shall have to phone for an ambulance from the school office. This is terrible… how did this…” Panic seeped into the teacher’s voice.
“Maybe she’s got a mobile,” Rich said. “We can call for help.” He knelt beside the woman and was relieved to see she was still breathing. Rich reached into the pocket of her coat. There was no phone, at least not in that pocket. But he pulled out something else – something sharp and hard. A handful of much smaller diamonds that glittered and shone.
“What’s going on?” Rich wondered out loud.
He was aware of Gemma beside him holding the large diamond – the size and shape of a half-lemon. Miss Whitfield leaned over, her face white. The other children clustered behind her – not wanting to see, but unable to look away.
Rich’s mind was racing as he stood up. He took the diamond from Gemma and turned it over in his hand. “If she’s been shot, that was gunfire. Which means someone must…”
But he didn’t get any further. At that moment, all round the room, the windows exploded into sharp flying fragments of glass. Figures in black combat clothes leaped through and crashed into the hall, machine guns ready and aimed right at Rich and the others.
9
The sound of breaking glass was loud even up in the maths room. Jade leaped to her feet.
“What was that?” Mr Argent said.
“Someone dropped something,” Mike suggested.
“People doing drama, in the hall,” Rupam said. “They were mucking about with toy guns just now. I heard them.”
“That was thunder,” said Mike.
“I’ll go and see,” Jade decided.
“I really don’t think that’s necessary.”
Ignoring Mr Argent, Jade hurried from the room and ran down the maths corridor. There were several other rooms along the way, and a narrow flight of stairs down to the school’s main reception. But the corridor ended in a smaller room that was used for storage or working with small groups of children.
Jade made her way carefully past precarious piles of textbooks to the door at the back of the room. She opened it carefully, some instinct warning her to be as quiet as possible. The door opened on to the gallery at the back of the school hall. Jade could hear noises from below – a man speaking, Miss Whitfield’s nervous replies, someone crying… What was going on?
As she approached the front of the gallery, Jade could gradually see more and more of the hall below. She held her breath and slowed to a hesitant tiptoe as she saw the men with guns. The woman with her distinctive auburn hair sprawled on the floor. The group of frightened children with Miss Whitfield.
And finally – thankfully – Rich. He was standing slightly apart from everyone else, closer to the stage, with Gemma Stroud. Somehow Jade had to get him out of there. She didn’t know what was going on, but if it didn’t have something to do with their dad, then she’d be very surprised.
A tall, broad-shouldered hulk of a man seemed to be in charge. He had a fierce red beard. He was gesturing for Miss Whitfield and the children to move away from the unconscious – or dead? – woman. His men herded them back towards the stage, making them sit along the front with their hands on their knees.
“You all do as you’re told, and no one need get hurt.” He was a big man with a Scottish accent. “Just sit there, good as gold, while we get what we came for. I’ll probably have some questions for you in a minute. And don’t get any ideas about calling for help. We’ve got this place locked down. No phones in or out. Mobiles are jammed too. There are police at the gates to tell any of your parents who might turn up for you to wait a bit and not to worry. Same goes for the living block over the way. So far as they know there’s a dangerous criminal got into the school and everyone’s to stay put till the police sort it out.” He grinned suddenly, teeth appearing in the middle of the red beard. “And what do you know – there is a dangerous criminal lose in the school. Whole lot of them in fact.”
Several of the gunmen laughed as the bearded man guffawed at his own joke. Jade moved slowly back towards the door into the storeroom. If Rich had any hope of getting away, she needed to create a diversion. A diversion that didn’t involve getting shot.
Jade found what she wanted just inside the storeroom – a particularly heavy textbook. She eased back towards the front of the gallery. Fortunately all the gunmen were watching their leader and the captives sitting along the front of the stage. Jade risked a wave, trying to attract Rich’s attention. But of course he was watching the gunmen.
As she got more desperate, Jade was afraid she would not get anyone’s attention. But eventually, Gemma noticed her. Even from the other end of the hall, Jade saw her tense slightly. Gemma nudged Rich and he followed the direction of her stare. As he saw Jade, he smiled. He gave the smallest nod.
The next problem was how to tell Rich what she was going to do. Jade held up the book and Rich frowned. Did he think she was wanting help with her Maths detention? She brandished the book like it was her dearest possession. Then she mimed throwing it. Again Rich nodded – so far so good. But even with a distraction, what could he do?
Rich glanced round, wondering what he could do when Jade threw the book. If the gunmen were looking for the big diam
ond, he would rather they didn’t find it in his pocket. Should he chuck it away? Best would be to escape himself. But how?
They’d started the first drama session last week with a tour of the little backstage area of the hall. Miss Whitfield had pointed out the wheel you turned to open and close the curtains, the way the backdrops could be slotted in and out, the lighting controls in a booth at the front of the hall and something else too that Rich thought might be useful. If only he had time.
He nudged Gemma. “Stay here,” he whispered. “Look after everyone. You’ll be safest if you stay put and do as they tell you.”
She stared at him, eyes wide.
On the gallery at the far end of the hall, Jade was holding up three fingers. She’d count to three. She held the book up in one hand – ready. With the other hand she showed thumbs up. Then finger and thumb: two. Thumb and two fingers: three.
She threw the book, tossing it just far enough for it to arc over the end of the gallery. Already Jade was backing away, ready to escape.
The book landed with a loud thwack. The gunmen all turned towards the sound. Rich scrambled back across the stage, Gemma shifting along slightly to disguise the gap where he had been.
“Come on, come on,” he breathed urgently to himself, scrabbling at the small metal ring in the stage floor. The trapdoor was heavy, but he managed to swing it open and dropped into the space below, lowering the door quickly behind him. He held it slightly open, making sure there was no sound as he gently closed it.
Rich crouched in the darkness. He could hear shouting from the hall, people moving. Then gunfire. He hardly dared to breathe, knowing that if he moved at all he might knock into something. And he had no idea how to get out from beneath the stage.
Jade heard the book land, saw Rich moving quickly to the trapdoor – good idea! Almost immediately, there were shouts from below. The red-bearded man was turning full circle, gun raised as he looked for where the book had come from.
She was almost back at the storeroom when he caught sight of her. The man’s gun came up. Fire spat from the end of it and Jade hurled herself backwards. She tripped on the step up to the door and fell heavily. A line of bullet holes erupted from the door frame level with where her head had been. She scrambled backwards and pulled the door shut.
