Sleeper

by J. D. Fennell

  Horne is out of the tunnel. Seconds later Will emerges and sees him disappear into a copse of trees. The rain lashes down, washing the mud from his tired body.

  Eoin is ahead, calling to Will. ‘Well done, lad. Faster. You are almost there!’

  Will runs through the copse, zigzagging around trees and jumping over rocks. Through the woods, he sees Horne and beyond him, Beaulieu House. He dashes forward and clears the copse. It is open land now all the way to Beaulieu. He sprints downhill. In seconds he is level with Horne. He can see a stream approaching and launches himself at it. The water is deeper than expected. Horne is beside him now, his expression grim and determined. Will pulls himself to the other side, ignoring the pain in his bare foot from the scraps of wood and gravel.

  He can see some of pupils outside the school watching and cheering them on. The Major and Morrow are there too, looking on with interest.

  Will pushes on. Horne is beside him again, inching his body forward to get ahead but Will calls on his last reserves of energy and forces himself in front. Will skids to a stop close to Morrow and drops to his knees on the grass, gasping for breath. There is an almighty cheer.

  ‘Bravo, Starling,’ says the Major.

  ‘Good work, Will!’ says Eoin.

  ‘Thank you,’ says a breathless Will. Horne manages to look both furious and confused. Will smiles, happy to have beaten him, but still he cannot help wonder what the boy’s problem is.

  ‘Impressive, Starling,’ says a tinny voice.

  Morrow is watching him through narrowed eyes. ‘I will be keeping a watchful eye on you.’

  There is something about Morrow that sets Will on edge. He cannot quite put his finger on it.

  Violet and Anna arrive. They congratulate him and Violet gives him a warm hug, much to Anna’s apparent surprise. She still keeps her distance, although twice he catches her looking furtively at his muddy, bare torso.

  Chapter 17

  Spy School

  Will showers and very soon feels like a different person. To his satisfaction, Horne and Sneddon leave the changing room without any fuss. They can see he is clearly not the soft target they had anticipated.

  Using Eoin’s map of Beaulieu house, Will navigates the corridors, looking for his first class: Radio Operations. According to the map it should be on the first floor. He crosses the Great Hall, hurries up the staircase, turns right and stops outside the second door on the left. He places his ear to it and hears Mr Singh talking.

  He knocks twice and steps inside.

  ‘Ah, William. I’ve been expecting you. Please join us,’ says Mr Singh.

  Will closes the door and glances around the room. There are six tables in rows of two. Each table has a suitcase on top. Seated around each one are three students. Will can see familiar faces including Violet, Anna and Horne with his two idiot friends. There is one table with a single student, sporting a large back shiner on his left eye.

  ‘Please, sit with Edward,’ says Mr Singh.

  Will hesitates, but heads toward the table. He can see Edward go rigid.

  ‘Relax, Edward,’ he says, glancing at Horne whose eyes dart from Edward to Will. Something in Horne’s frown tells Will that the plan to get him into trouble has backfired. Will winks at him and Horne scowls.

  ‘Open up your communications devices, please,’ says an enthusiastic Mr Singh.

  Edward unfastens the clasps and opens the lid of the case. The smell of fresh wood polish fills Will’s nostrils. Inside is a gleaming new radio communications set built neatly into the suitcase. There is a compartment containing the headphones, a large rectangular power pack and a panel with dials and buttons that operates the transmitter and the receiver.

  ‘It’s a Whaddon Mark VII,’ says Will.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ says Edward.

  He can feel Edward looking at him.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  Will shifts uneasily. ‘Erm… a lucky guess.’

  The radio has an unsettling familiarity to it, as if he has seen or used one before. Will listens attentively to Mr Singh, ignoring Edward’s curious gaze.

  By the end of the class, Edward has warmed up and they have even managed to exchange a few more words. He feels the beginnings of a bond, although it is still fragile.

  The following morning, Will attends the Deadly Gadgets class taught by Eoin. The Irishman demonstrates a range of weird devices such as time pencils for detonating explosives, nitrate paper that explodes on contact with flames and bombs disguised as clockwork rats.

  ‘Wind them up and watch them scurry toward their target,’ says Eoin.

  Will can not resist winding up a fake rat bomb and sending it toward Horne and his henchmen. He has never seen anyone move so fast. The class roars with laughter.

  Later, Will attends Self-Defence, which is taught by the tall, athletic Miss Davenport. Her class is held in the gymnasium, a vast ornate room on the first floor that looks like it had once been a ballroom. It is the place where Will first saw Anna. Across the room he sees her standing comfortably in her loose-fitting black karategi. He watches her for a moment, transfixed, before Miss Davenport speaks.

  ‘Righto, everyone. Today is Will’s first self-defence lesson. As you know, self-defence is key to survival. Therefore, no kid gloves in this class,’ she gives a guffawing laugh.

  Will notices some students rolling their eyes.

  Miss Davenport continues, ‘Will, pretend I am a ruthless Nazi killer stalking her prey. You are an undercover agent in possession of secret information that is key to saving hundreds of lives. We will fight to the death,’ she says. ‘I will be gentle,’ she adds, but Will swears her eyes have taken on a canine quality.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Will sees someone entering the room. It is Eoin, who stands out of the way watching.

  Miss Davenport turns to face Will, her fists raised in attacking mode, ‘Schweinhund!’ she bellows in a mock German accent. Will ignores the giggles from the class and watches as Miss Davenport’s fist flies toward him. He leans to the left, the fist narrowly missing his ear. Miss Davenport throws several more punches, swipes and kicks but he dodges every single one.

  Will watches her, determining what she will do next. It isn’t that she is a terrible fighter; she is fast and skilled, but he seems to be able to anticipate her every move by reading her body language. How on earth can he know this? The answer makes him feel cold. But deep down he has known since he saw the file in Baker Street.

  I’m one of them. I’m an agent of VIPER.

  Miss Davenport tries her best but cannot quite hit her target. Minutes later, puffed out and red-faced, Miss Davenport relents, ‘Very good, Will. Clearly you have done this before.’

  ‘No, Miss, this is my first time.’ What else could he say?

  The class giggle again.

  He glances at Eoin who is still watching him.

  Miss Davenport looks despondent. ‘Oh… Maybe I’m losing my touch,’ she says.

  ‘No… you were very good,’ says Will.

  ‘Really?’ she says, smiling.

  ‘Really.’

  Miss Davenport turns and looks across the gym, her expression clouding over. ‘Good Lord, what is that?’ she says.

  Will tenses and looks, but before he can see what it is his legs are kicked from under him. He falls to the mat, his arm in a vice-like grip and Miss Davenport’s knees pinning down his chest.

  ‘Ha!’ she cries. ‘Never let your guard down in front a murderous Nazi, Will.’

  The class erupts in laughter and, despite his shock, Will laughs too, which injects in him a sudden surge of hope.

  Perhaps I’m not one of them. Perhaps I’m a good person.

  Miss Davenport addresses the class. ‘Break into twos and press on!’ She stands up, takes Will’s arm and helps him up. ‘Sorry, old boy,’ she says.

  Will shakes his head. He can’t help liking Miss Davenport and her passion. ‘I let my guard down. You win.’

  �
��I’m impressed, Will. Your non-contact avoidance of my attack was highly skilled. I find it hard to believe you have not had lessons before this.’

  Will looks away and says nothing more, relieved that she doesn’t press him further. He looks to Eoin and sees him leave quietly, shutting the door behind him.

  Chapter 18

  Shooting Class

  Thursday, 8th May 1941

  Will wakes with a sense of urgency. His muscles are tight and the throb in his temple has returned like a visceral warning for him to get moving. More than twenty-four hours have passed since he saw Eoin leave Miss Davenport’s Self-Defence class. He senses that the Irishman has left Beaulieu. Could this be an opportunity to search for the notebook? It must be hidden somewhere in the school. As soon as he has the idea, he dismisses it. Beaulieu is vast and it could take him weeks, if not months.

  He feels that he has very little time, though where this thought has come from he can’t say. What he does know is that he must find the notebook.

  He makes his way to the Major’s office to find out if she knows where Eoin is.

  ‘You’ll find him at the shooting range, where I believe you have your next lesson, Mr Starling,’ she says, quickly peering up at him through half-moon spectacles.

  The distraction of the notebook had made him forget his lessons. ‘Erm… I apologise for disturbing you, Major. I’ll go there immediately.’

  ‘Righto. Hurry along then. You are already a trifle late.’

  Will hurries through the grounds and hears the sound of a gunshot. The class has already begun. He runs through a copse and sees Eoin standing next to a table with a holdall on top of it. In his hand is a pistol. He is talking to a group of students. Among them he sees Anna, Violet, Horne and his crew. Eoin looks up as Will approaches and then all eyes turn in Will’s direction.

  ‘You’re late, Starling.’

  ‘Sorry, sir.’

  Horne and his friends huddle together and giggle. Will ignores them and looks toward the targets, which are a row of six faceless scarecrows stuffed with straw and dressed in patched-up suits and hats.

  ‘For the benefit of Starling, a quick recap,’ says Eoin. He holds up a pistol. ‘This is the Webley Mark IV, British made and standard issue. It is a revolver. Can anyone tell me what makes it a revolver?’

  Will opens his mouth to answer, but Horne speaks up first.

  ‘It’s…’ starts Horne but is interrupted by Eoin.

  ‘Hand please, Horne.’

  Horne’s neck reddens and he slowly raises his hand, ‘Sir?’

  ‘Yes, Horne.’

  ‘A revolver is a repeating firearm that has a revolving cylinder containing multiple chambers and one barrel for firing. The term “revolver” refers to a handgun, but other weapons may also have a revolving chamber. These include some models of …’

  Eoin cuts Horne short. ‘Thank you, Horne, we get the idea.’ He opens the holdall. Inside are several more Webley revolvers. ‘Partner up and take one pistol between two of you.’

  Will looks around. There are several boys including Horne hovering around Violet and Anna, hoping to partner and show off with them. He notices Violet looking his way. She glances wickedly at Anna. ‘Anna and Will are shooting together!’ she calls to Eoin.

  ‘Very good,’ says Eoin. ‘Anna, please help Will.’

  Will sees Anna’s face burning red. Violet winks at Will and he frowns.

  What is Violet playing at?

  Anna makes her way through the crowd and stands next to Will without looking at him.

  ‘Have you used a gun before,’ she asks, haughtily.

  Will glances at the bag of guns and says nothing. Part of him is repelled at these tools of death, but part of him is also excited about the opportunity to know what it is like to hold and shoot a gun. But there is something else. Something at the edge of his memory.

  Anna puffs and shakes her head.

  Will suspects she thinks he is a little afraid. He frowns, his patience with this stuck-up girl is fading fast. He wants to say something clever when he notices Horne. He is gripping his Webley and glaring in Will’s direction. Will wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to put a bullet in him and claim it as an accident.

  Eoin walks through the crowd handing out boxes the size of a small fist. They contain bullets.

  ‘Load the bullets and take aim at your target,’ demands Eoin. ‘Point your gun at the scarecrows and get ready for my signal.’

  ‘Watch what I do,’ says Anna. ‘Point the barrel away from you toward the ground.’

  Will watches as Anna flicks a switch at the side the gun. ‘It’s a top-break revolver. This switch unlocks the gun.’ She pushes the barrel down, revealing the chamber.

  Will takes six bullets from the box and hands them across. Although still irritated by her, he watches with admiration as Anna’s slender hands skilfully load the bullets and lock the gun back into place.

  Six students including Anna, Violet and Horne stand at the frontline.

  ‘Aim!’ bellows Eoin. He walks behind each one of them, checking their positions. He stops beside Violet. ‘Steady your aim, Violet.’

  ‘It’s too heavy,’ she says.

  ‘Then support your gun hand with your other arm.’ Eoin takes the gun from her and points it toward the targets. He cups his free hand under his gun hand and looks back at her. ‘Like so.’

  He walks to the top of the line, gives one final check and shouts, ‘Fire!’

  Will covers his ears. The air is filled with deafening blasts.

  Anna’s and Horne’s scarecrows shudder, their straw filled arms flap lifelessly in a sinister dance as their bullets hit their marks.

  ‘Good work, Miss Wilder and Horne. The rest of you need more practice. Pass the guns to your partner.’

  Anna hands the Webley to Will. It is heavy and warm to the touch. His fingers curl around it and hold it with an unsettling confidence. He trembles and feels a wave of dizziness pass over him.

  ‘Look at Starling’s face!’ laughs Horne. ‘Are you frightened?’

  A surge of anger rushes through Will.

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ says Anna. ‘Concentrate.’

  Will takes three deep breaths and focuses. He recalls Anna’s instruction but there is something else. He knows what he is doing. Pointing the barrel at the ground, he opens it and slowly inserts the bullets into the chamber. He takes up his position at the frontline.

  ‘Aim!’ says Eoin.

  Will’s gun is stiff and difficult to lock. He fiddles with it clumsily until it gives way and closes. He pushes the barrel up, locking it in place. He aims, the gun is heavy and wobbles for a moment before he steadies it.

  ‘Fire!’

  Will flinches as the gunshots ring out. He squeezes the trigger but nothing happens.

  ‘Starling?’ says Eoin.

  He hears sniggering from the other students but ignores it. The trigger is jammed. He slams the gun with the palm of his hand without really knowing why. Something clicks. Supporting the gun hand with his free hand, he aims the Webley at the scarecrow, one eye staring down the top of the barrel and over the sight. His stomach is in knots, but he breathes slowly.

  His arm is steady; the sight is aimed directly at the scarecrow’s heart.

  He squeezes the trigger firing off six rounds without flinching. Dust flies from the scarecrow, its arms flailing in a vain protest as the bullets thud one by one into its straw chest.

  Will swallows. He has hit the target with each bullet.

  There is silence; no one speaks.

  He hears a creaking sound and watches as the scarecrow flops forward and falls to the ground, a twisted and lifeless straw corpse.

  His mouth dries. For a moment he thinks he has been lucky, but he knows this is not the case. Moments back there was something he could not quite fathom. He understands now what that was – he knows how to fire a gun. Confused, he shudders and again wonders who he really is. He trembles and lowers the We
bley downwards.

  There is a cheer from the other students.

  He looks around to see them closing in around him, slapping his back and congratulating him.

  All except Horne and his crew.

  Will’s mood lifts instantly as he laps up the sudden praise. He glances at Eoin who is regarding him with an unreadable expression.

  ‘That’s all for today,’ says Eoin. ‘Place the guns in the bag on the table. I will be counting them.’

  ‘Nice work,’ says Violet.

  ‘Thanks,’ says Will and looks at Anna.

  ‘You are full of surprises, aren’t you?’ she says, folding her arms.

  He looks away. She is right to be curious.

  The class begins to disperse.

  ‘Will,’ says Eoin. ‘Come to my office. I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Eoin nods, hands him the bag containing the guns and together they walk back to the school.

  Chapter 19

  Languages

  Will is standing in Eoin’s office watching him lock the bag of pistols into a steel cabinet. The Irishman has said nothing since they left the firing range.

  ‘How many languages can you speak?’ he says at last.

  Confused by the question, Will frowns, ‘Just English.’

  Eoin nods. ‘You did well today,’ he says, changing the subject.

  ‘It was just luck,’ says Will, folding his arms.

  Eoin snorts, ‘Is that what it was?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘And you also got lucky during Self-Defence?’

  Will swallows and fails to answer.

  The Irishman looks at him with an inquisitive stare. ‘You’ve never fired a gun before? Not once?’

  ‘I was lucky, that’s all.’ But Will feels a nervous tingling in his stomach and knows Eoin is not convinced by his answers.

  ‘Perhaps you are right,’ says Eoin.

  But Will sees the doubt in his eyes. He frowns at the Irishman, ‘Why don’t you believe me?’ he snaps.

  ‘I did not say that I don’t believe you.’