‘I have no doubt. But right now, I am unsure how Tim Chittlock is involved in this mystery. It may explain his present condition.’
‘What do mean?’ says Will.
‘Tim is dead. Murdered.’
Will feels his nerves coiling. What hope is there now?
‘Will you excuse us for a moment?’ says Eoin. He walks with the Major to the bay window where they talk in whispers together. Moments later they return.
The Major speaks, ‘Mr Starling, Eoin has made a request which I am in full agreement with. It is clear you are in danger. The men searching for you are known to us. As it happens, Eoin was on the trail of three of the men you spotted at the dockside. Do you know who they are?’
Will shakes his head.
‘They are known as the agents of VIPER.’
Will shifts in his chair. The file implicating him as an agent of VIPER was on the desk in the Baker Street office. Does this mean that Eoin knows who he is? He can’t tell and decides to keep quiet about it.
‘Who or what is VIPER?’ he asks.
‘The Vendetta for International Power Estrangement and Repression are a criminal organisation with military links to almost every country in the war…’
The Major stands and, with her hands behind her back, begins pacing up and down as if deep in thought.
Will feels cold. He is part of this organisation. He is a criminal. And, if the Major and Eoin have seen the file they keep on him, they know it too, or soon will. But if he is part of VIPER, why were the men in the Austin after him?
The Major is still talking. ‘…They are wealthy, powerful and dangerous puppet masters whose purpose is to acquire as much power and wealth as possible though we do not know what their ultimate aims might be. They have weapons of advanced technology and most recently they have been investing their time in ancient mystical weapons related to the occult…’
Will’s head begins to swim; a memory is returning. In his mind he sees a man dressed in a lab coat talking to a room full of other men. Their faces seem similar but he does not know why. There are pictures on the walls: a cluster of stones glowing blue, paintings depicting fires through the ages, the great fires of Rome and London and many more. His head begins to throb. He closes his eyes and massages his temples.
A hand grips his shoulder.
‘Will, are you feeling alright? You do not look well.’
He opens his eyes and the Irishman hands him a glass of water. He drinks it and feels better immediately.
Troubled, Will pushes the memory from his mind for now. He needs to find out as much as he can.
‘…That sort of mumbo-jumbo does not hold any water with me, but Eoin seems to think otherwise, and quite frankly that is good enough for me. There are many lives at stake and we need as much intelligence as we can gather to put a stop to these devils.’
‘Will?’ says Eoin.
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
‘Now,’ says the Major, ‘Eoin has requested you stay here until we can at least find out who you are. Hopefully we can locate your family. Are you in agreement?’
They clearly do not know who he is. Will is glad that he had the sense to remove his details from the VIPER file in Timothy Chittlock’s Baker Street office. He’d be under lock and key had the Irishman got wind of where he had come from.
‘Yes, thank you,’ he says, relieved that he will have shelter for the time being and confused about how much the Major and Eoin know, and what they might want from him. ‘What is this place?’
‘It’s a school.’
‘What sort of school?’
‘A school for spies,’ says the Major, matter-of-factly.
‘But the students here are young people. Some are children.’
‘Spies come in all shapes, sizes and ages.’
Eoin speaks, ‘Our students are a rag-tag bunch, many are orphans, with a few notable exceptions. They are all carefully selected, chosen for their intelligence, or for a particular set of talents. We shape them into unique individuals who can fit into any society, in any country, and work as part of His Majesty’s Secret Service. We are the young person’s branch of the Service who work alongside MI5, MI6 and the Special Operations Executive. The Prime Minister calls us the Baker Street Irregulars.’
‘You will be safe here,’ says the Major.
‘Not to arouse suspicion,’ says Eoin, ‘we will enroll you as a new recruit. You will join the school and become one of us, until I find your family and understand more why VIPER and the Pastor are looking for you. How does that sound?’
The Pastor. The name sends a chill through Will’s body as another piece slots into the jigsaw of his memories. It rings true to him just as his own name did when he saw it in the file. But the Pastor’s name brings him no comfort at all.
Will is not convinced this place is as safe as the Major and Eoin seemed to think it is. For now, though, he needs to trust someone. He nods his head.
‘Yes, I will become a recruit.’
Chapter 14
The First Night
Will follows Eoin from the Major’s office to somewhere in the east wing of the house, where processing for his recruitment will begin. They stop at a door with the Irishman’s name on it: Eoin Heaney.
The interior is sparse with wood-panelled walls and a small window. There is a desk with a row of filing cabinets behind it. These people like their files, thinks Will.
‘Have a seat,’ says Eoin.
Will sits at the desk and watches as Eoin begins pulling sheets of paper from one of the cabinets. He sits down opposite Will and begins writing.
‘Where is my notebook?’ Will says, at last.
Eoin focuses on the paperwork without looking up, ‘It’s safe, so it is.’
‘Why did you steal it?’
‘Correction: I borrowed it to protect you and the people of this school.’
‘But no one knows I have it.’
‘The Pastor knows you have it. VIPER know you have it. It is only a matter of time before they discover you are here. You have put us all in great danger, Mr Starling.’
Eoin’s words bring home the enormity of the trouble he is in. Part of him resents the Irishman for blaming him, but the other part feels guilty. He does not want to see anyone else get hurt.
‘Why did you not mention you “borrowed” the notebook to the Major?’
‘As safe as Beaulieu is, these walls have ears. When the time is right, I will tell her. For now, it must remain our secret. Understood?’
Will holds his gaze but knows he has little choice in the matter. Even if he changes his mind and leaves Beaulieu with the notebook, it would only be a matter of time before the police, VIPER or the Pastor caught up with him. It would mean prison or death. Neither option would achieve anything.
Eoin passes a sheet of paper across the table. It is the Beaulieu timetable. Subjects include Espionage, Self Defence, Physical Education, Weapons, Bombs, Radio Operations, Aircraft Today, Tanks Today, Code Breaking, French, German, Latin, English, Mathematics and Honeytraps.
‘There are a lot of subjects,’ says Will.
‘You won’t need to take them all. It is more important we get you primed and ready as quickly as possible. There is little time.’
‘Primed and ready?’
‘We can protect you, Will. But there may come a time when you need to protect yourself. We can teach you.’
Eoin reaches into his drawer, takes out a camera and points it at him, ‘Look at me,’ he says. A flash of light blinds him. He blinks as Eoin concentrates on scribbling notes. Then Eoin passes across a pen and a sheet of paper with several paragraphs of printed text, ‘Sign this, please.’
‘What is it?’
‘The Official Secrets Act. It is a requirement for all employees of His Majesty. It is to protect you and the state.’
Will signs the paper and pushes it back across the desk.
After a brief check-up with the school doctor, Will is pronounced fit f
or training. He follows Eoin through the great hall and down a narrow stone corridor leading to the west turret. They climb two flights of stairs and go down another corridor. Eventually Eoin stops outside a door, knocks, then steps inside. He speaks to someone for a moment then turns to Will and beckons him inside.
Will finds himself standing in a bedroom with a dresser and a wardrobe separating two bunks. Standing opposite Eoin with a terrified expression is one of Horne’s friends. It is the round boy with the spectacles. On the wall, above one of the bunks, are pages of paper with illegible handwriting.
‘This is your new home, Will,’ says Eoin.
‘But…’
Eoin turns to the round boy, ‘Edward, please make our new student welcome.’
The boy called Edward does not respond, he just stares at Eoin.
‘Will, this is Edward Simms, who you may remember from this afternoon.’
Will remains tight lipped, shifting awkwardly at the thought of sharing a room with one of Horne’s friends.
Eoin gestures to the other bunk, ‘This is yours. I will have some clothes sent up. The bathroom is across the hall. I will leave you to get to know one another. Supper is at six. Edward, be sure to show Will where the mess hall is. I think you two will become great friends.’
Eoin leaves and Edward sits gingerly on his bunk and rubs his knees. They say nothing to each other. Will ignores his new roommate and lies on the other bunk. He pushes everything from his mind, closes his eyes and breathes slowly. Tiredness overcomes him. Within minutes, he is asleep.
In his dream Will is walking blind through a mist, following the sound of a voice, a voice that is singing some sort of nursery rhyme. The mist thins and in the air before him he sees letters and numbers, some sort of code, glistening, pulsating in time to the rhyme. He tries to recognise the tune but suddenly a vast explosion melts the world around him and he hears a hundred thousand voices screaming in terror. He cries out and wakes, shivering, his face hot and clammy. Unsettled, he wonders what the meaning of the dream, but he cannot for the life of him figure it out what it might be.
The room is gloomy and he is alone. Pushing the dream from his mind, he gets out of bed and crosses to the bathroom where he splashes cold water on his face. Feeling revived, he heads downstairs in search of the mess hall.
He reaches the Great Hall, then follows the chatter and the clink of cutlery on china, which hushes to a silence when he enters the room. All eyes look his way. He stiffens and scans the room. There are four long tables with people seated randomly. Large French doors open to the gardens where adults, presumably the teachers, are chatting and smoking.
At one long table, a cook is serving up the evening meal. Will puts his head down and walks towards him. Thankfully, interest in him wanes and the chatting and clinking resumes.
Dinner turns out to be an unappealing watery grey stew. As the cook serves up, Will locks eyes with Horne who is sitting at a table in between Edward and the pinched-faced girl called Felicia. Her adoring gaze at Horne makes Will feel a little ill. Horne leans across and says something to her and she laughs. Will ignores them, grabs a spoon and napkin and sits at an empty table far away from them. As he tucks into the watery meal he feels another set of eyes watching him. He looks up to see the fighting girl from the balcony. She turns away with a haughty expression. Sitting beside her is a girl with hair the colour of butter and lips painted pillar-box red. She glances at the fighting girl and then back at Will. Then she smiles and winks. Will smiles back. She giggles and whispers something to her friend.
Instinctively, Will combs his hair with his fingers and thinks he might introduce himself later.
An Irish accent interrupts Will’s thoughts, ‘Not exactly the Ritz but it’s the best we can do during war time,’ says Eoin, pulling up a chair.
‘How long do you think I have to be here?’
‘That depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On you.’
‘But…’
‘Be patient, Will. There is much to be done. For now, I need you to be as fit as a soldier, never mind a spy. Training begins tomorrow.’
‘What sort of training?’
‘You will see.’ Eoin passes him a sheet of paper.
It is a detailed floor plan of Beaulieu House.
‘The rooms circled in red are where they teach the classes I want you to take. We are midway through the school year, and the others will be ahead of you. Do not concern yourself with that. I have briefed the teachers and allowances will be made. You will need to work hard to catch up.’
Will looks closely at the map. There are rooms labelled: Weapons, Espionage, Radio Operations, Physical Training and Self Defence.
As if reading his mind Eoin says, ‘You’ll get used to it, so you will.’
Will’s thoughts turn to the dream about codes and the rhyme, ‘I had a dream – there were clues. I’d like to see the notebook. I think I might be able to interpret what some of the text means.’
Eoin regards him curiously. ‘Let’s concentrate on your training first,’ he says, standing up. ‘That is your priority. I will see you in the morning, Will. Goodnight.’
Back in his room, Will lies back on his bunk, curiosity about the notebook clawing away at his mind.
Why is it coded? What is it concealing? Why are dangerous people prepared to kill anyone to get it?
In the dream he had heard hundreds of thousands of voices screaming in terror. It has left him feeling cold inside.
There’s a movement outside. The doorknob turns once, then stops. Will swings out of bed, his eyes flit around the room looking for something he can use as a weapon, but whoever was there has walked on by.
He peeks through the door and up the hallway. The bathroom light is on and he can hear water running. He slides across the hall and peers inside. Edward is bent over a washbasin, shaking. His broken spectacles are resting on the side of the basin. There is blood splashed over the sink’s white enamel. Will goes in and looks at him side on. His top lip is split and his left eye is red and swollen. There are dried tears on his cheeks.
‘Leave me alone,’ he croaks.
‘Who did this?’ demands Will.
Edward does not respond, but he doesn’t need to. Will is sure it was Horne.
‘Let me help you,’ he says, picking up a towel. He runs cold water on it, folds it over and places it against Edward’s swollen eye, ‘Hold this.’
Edward does not protest. He turns and sits on the edge of one of the bathtubs, his hand pressing down on the wet towel, ‘I’m going to get into so much trouble,’ he says.
‘Why?’
But Edward gazes at the floor and does not respond.
‘I can take you to the medical room, if you like.’
Edward shakes his head.
‘Horne did this, didn’t he?’
Edward looks away without saying yes or no.
‘You should tell Eoin or the Major.’
Edward shakes his head. Will does not push it. He knows there is an unwritten rule in every school that you do not snitch. Snitching usually results in more beatings and sometimes a lot worse.
‘He can’t get away with this.’
‘He gets away with a lot worse. His family are wealthy and have influence.’
‘But I thought everyone here was an orphan.’
‘Not everyone. Did the Major not tell you about the “few notable exceptions”?’
‘Yes, I remember. But I wasn’t quite sure what it meant.’
‘Now you know.’
Edward peels the towel from his eye. Will takes it from him and rings it through with more cold water before handing it back.
‘Thank you,’ says Edward.
Will shrugs. ‘You should get some sleep.’
Will turns to leave.
‘He wants me to spy on you. He wants to know why you are here and being treated with such importance.’
Will feels his hackles rising and snorts. Importance
? He almost wants to tell Edward about the attempts on his life and the two men who were killed because of him, but he holds his tongue. The less people know the better. For the time being at least.
‘He says I am to blame this on you. But I won’t. I hate him.’
‘Tell people you fell over, and stay as far away from Horne as you can. I can handle him and his friends.’
Edward manages a half smile.
‘Let’s get you back to the room.’ Will helps him up, ‘You’ll have a proper shiner in the morning. You wait.’
Chapter 15
Assembly
Tuesday, 6th May 1941
Will wakes the next morning to someone calling his name. Wiping the sleep from his eyes he looks up to see Eoin standing at the foot of his bunk. In one arm he is holding clothes, in the other is a battered leather satchel.
‘I did knock but there was no answer.’
‘What time is it?’
‘7 am. There is an assembly at 8 am, in the Great Hall. Make sure you are there.’
Eoin drops the clothes onto the bed. ‘Your uniform, and training kit. There are textbooks and everything else you need for lessons in the bag. Bring it and your training kit with you.’ And with that, Eoin leaves the room.
Will heaves himself out of bed and hears Edward just beginning to stir beneath the covers.
The pile of clothes includes a red and blue striped tie, a navy blazer with the bronze criss-crossed pistol and dagger crest, a blue shirt, a grey jumper and dark tweed trousers; the standard issue uniform for Beaulieu, it seems. There is also a pair of shorts, a vest and plimsoles.
He picks up the blazer and slides his hand along the lining of the sleeves and wonders if they have any hidden tools like his other blazer. There are none. He wonders again why he would have such a blazer. Who would have tailored something like that to house those kinds of tools? He thinks about the photographs at the Baker Street office. Was he really an enemy agent for the Agents of VIPER?
I can’t be. I would never betray my country.
Or would he? Did he have reason to? The thought makes him go cold. He has no memories, nothing concrete to cling to. All he knows is the Agents of VIPER and some mad pastor are trying to kill him, and he has something they both want. He peers out the window – the gardens are misty and damp and look cold for the time of year. He rubs his arms and gets dressed.
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