He waited five more minutes, then hid the note-pad under his mattress and left the room. He wished he could lock the door. There was no privacy at Point Blanc. Even the bathrooms had no locks. And Alex still couldn’t shake off the feeling that everything he did, even everything he thought, was somehow being monitored, noted down. Evidence to be used against him.
It was ten past one when he reached the dining-room and, sure enough, the other boys were already there, eating their lunch and talking quietly amongst themselves. Nicolas and Cassian were at one table. Hugo, Tom and Joe were at another. Nobody was flicking peas. Nobody even had their elbows on the table. Tom was talking about a visit he had made to some museum in Grenoble. Alex had only been in the room for a few seconds but already his appetite had gone.
James had arrived just ahead of him and was standing at the hatch, helping himself to food. Most of the food arrived pre-cooked and one of the guards heated it up. Today it was stew. Alex got his lunch and sat next to James. The two of them had their own table. They had become friends quite effortlessly. Everyone else ignored them.
“You want to go out after lunch?” James asked.
“Sure. Why not?”
“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Alex looked past James at the other boys. There was Tom, at the head of the table, reaching out for a jug of water. He was dressed in a polo jersey and jeans. Next to him was Joe Canterbury, the American. He was talking to Hugo now, waving a finger to emphasize a point. Where had Alex seen that movement before? Cassian was just behind them, round-faced, with fine, light brown hair, laughing at a joke.
Different but the same. Watching them closely, Alex tried to work out what that meant.
It was all in the details, the things you wouldn’t notice unless you saw them all together like they were now. The way they were all sitting with their backs straight and their elbows close to their sides. The way they held their knives and forks. Hugo laughed and Alex realized that for a moment he had become a mirror image of Cassian. It was the same laugh. He watched Joe eat a mouthful of food. Then he watched Nicolas. They were two different boys. There was no doubting that. But they ate in the same way, as if they were mimicking each other.
There was a movement at the door and suddenly Mrs Stellenbosch appeared. “Good afternoon, boys,” she said.
“Good afternoon, Mrs Stellenbosch.” Five people answered, but Alex heard only one voice. He and James remained silent.
“Lessons this afternoon will begin at three o’clock. The subjects will be Latin and French.”
The lessons would be taught by Dr Grief or Mrs Stellenbosch. There were no other teachers at the school. Alex hadn’t yet been taught anything. James dipped in and out of class, depending on his mood.
“There will be a discussion this evening in the library,” Mrs Stellenbosch went on. “The subject is ‘violence in television and film’. Mr McMorin will be opening the debate. Afterwards there will be hot chocolate and Dr Grief will be giving a lecture on the works of Mozart. Everyone is welcome to attend.”
James jabbed a finger into his open mouth and stuck out his tongue. Alex smiled. The other boys were listening quietly.
“Dr Grief would also like to congratulate Cassian James on winning the poetry competition. His poem is pinned to the notice-board in the main hall. That is all.”
She turned and left the room. James rolled his eyes. “Let’s go out and get some fresh air,” he said. “I’m feeling sick.”
The two of them went upstairs and put on their coats. James had the room next door to Alex and had done his best to make it more homely. There were posters of old sci-fi movies on the walls and a mobile of the solar system dangling above the bed. A lava lamp bubbled and swirled on the bedside table, casting an orange glow. There were clothes everywhere. James obviously didn’t believe in hanging them up. Somehow he managed to find a scarf and a single glove. He shoved one hand into a pocket. “Let’s go!” he said.
They went back down and along the corridor, passing the games room. Nicolas and Cassian were playing table tennis and Alex stopped at the door to watch them. The ball was bouncing back and forth and Alex found himself mesmerized. He stood there for about sixty seconds, watching. Kerplink, kerplunk, kerplink, kerplunk – neither of the boys were scoring. There it was again. Different but the same. Obviously there were two boys there. But the way they played, the style of their game, was identical. If it had been one boy, knocking a ball up against a mirror, the result would have looked much the same. Alex shivered. James was standing at his shoulder. The two of them moved away.
Hugo was sitting in the library. The boy who had been sent to Point Blanc for shoplifting was reading a Dutch edition of National Geographic magazine. They reached the hall and there was Cassian’s poem, prominently pinned to the notice-board. He had been sent to Point Blanc for smuggling drugs. Now he was writing about daffodils.
Alex pushed open the main door and felt the cold wind hit his face. He was grateful for it. He needed to be reminded that there was a real world outside.
It had begun to snow again. The two boys walked slowly round the building. A couple of guards walked towards them, speaking softly in German. Alex had counted thirty guards at Point Blanc, all of them young German men, dressed in uniform black roll-neck sweaters and black padded waistcoats. The guards never spoke to the boys. They had pale, unhealthy faces and close-cropped hair. Dr Grief had said they were there for his protection, but Alex still wondered. Were they there to keep intruders out – or the boys in?
“This way,” James said.
James walked ahead, his feet sinking into the thick snow. Alex followed, looking back at the windows on the second and third floors. It was maddening. Half of the castle – perhaps more – was closed off to him and he still couldn’t think of a way of getting up there. He couldn’t climb. The brickwork was too smooth and there was no convenient ivy to provide handholds. The drainpipes looked too fragile to take his weight.
Something moved. Alex stopped in his tracks.
“What is it?” James asked.
“There!” Alex pointed at the third floor. He thought he’d seen a figure watching them from a window two floors above his room. It was only there for a moment. The face seemed to be covered – a white mask with narrow slits for the eyes. But even as he pointed, the figure stepped back, out of sight.
“I don’t see anything,” James said.
“It’s gone.”
They walked on, heading for the abandoned ski-jump. According to James, the jump had been built just before Grief had bought the academy. There had been plans to turn the building into a winter sports training centre. The jump had never been used. They reached the wooden barriers that lay across the entrance and stopped.
“Let me ask you something,” James said. His breath was misting in the cold air. “What do you think of this place?”
“Why do we have to talk out here?” Alex asked. Despite his coat, he was beginning to shiver.
“Because when I’m inside the building, I get the feeling that someone is listening to every word I say.”
Alex nodded. “I know what you mean.” He considered the question James had put to him. “I think you were right the first day we met,” he said. “This place is creepy.”
“So how would you feel about getting out of here?”
“You know how to fly the helicopter?”
“No. But I’m going.” James paused and looked around. The two guards had gone into the school. There was nobody else in sight. “I can trust you, Alex, because you’ve only just got here. He hasn’t got to you yet.” He was Dr Grief. James didn’t need to say the name. “But believe me,” he went on, “it won’t be long. If you stay here, you’re going to end up like the others. Model students – that’s exactly the term for them. It’s like they’re all made out of Plasticine! Well, I’ve had enough. I’m not going to let him do that to me!”
“Are you going to run away?” Alex asked.
“Who needs to run?” James looked down the slope. “I’m going to ski.”
Alex looked at the slope. It plunged steeply down, stretching on for ever. “Is that possible?” he asked. “I thought—”
“I know Grief says it’s too dangerous. But he would, wouldn’t he. It’s true it’s black runs all the way down and there’ll be tons of moguls—”
“Won’t the snow have melted?”
“Only further down.” James pointed. “I’ve been right down to the bottom,” he said. “I did it the first week I was here. All the slopes run into a single valley. It’s called La Vallée de Fer. You can’t actually make it as far as the town because there’s a train track that cuts across. But if I can get to the track, I reckon I can walk the rest of the way.”
“And then?”
“A train back to Düsseldorf. If my dad tries to send me back here, I’ll go to my mum in England. If she doesn’t want me, I’ll disappear. I’ve got friends in Paris and Berlin. I don’t care. All I know is, I’ve got to split and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll come too.”
Alex considered. He was tempted to join the other boy, if only to help him on his way. But he had a job to do. “I don’t have any skis,” he said.
“Nor do I.” James spat into the snow. “Grief took all the skis when the season ended. He’s got them locked up somewhere.”
“On the third floor?”
“Maybe. But I’ll find them. And then I’m out of here.” He reached out to Alex with his ungloved hand. “Come with me.”
Alex shook his head. “I’m sorry, James. You go, and good luck to you. But I’ll stick it out a bit longer. I don’t want to break my neck.”
“OK. That’s your lookout. I’ll send you a postcard.”
The two of them walked back towards the school. Alex gestured at the window where he had seen the masked face. “Have you ever wondered what goes on up there?” he asked.
“No.” James shrugged. “I suppose that’s where the guards live.”
“Two whole floors?”
“There’s a basement as well. And Dr Grief’s rooms. Do you think he sleeps with Miss Stomach-bag?” James made a face. “That’s a pretty gross thought, the two of them together. Darth Vader and King Kong. Well, I’m going to find my skis and get out of here, Alex. And if you’ve got any sense, you’ll come too.”
Alex and James were skiing together down the slope, the blades cutting smoothly through the surface snow. It was a perfect night. Everything frozen and still. They had left the academy behind them. But then Alex saw a figure ahead of them. Dr Grief was there! He was standing motionless, wearing his dark suit, his eyes quite hidden by his red-lensed spectacles. Alex veered away from him. He lost control. He was moving faster and faster down the slope, his poles flailing at the air, his skis refusing to turn. He could see the ski-jump ahead of him. Someone had removed the barriers. He felt his skis leave the snow and shoot forward onto solid ice. And then it was a screaming drop down, tearing ever further into the night, knowing there was no way back. Dr Grief laughed and at the same moment there was a click and Alex shot into space, spinning a mile above the ground and then falling, falling, falling…
He woke up.
He was lying in bed, the moonlight spilling onto the covers. He looked at his watch. Two-fifteen. He played back the dream he had just had. Trying to escape with James. Dr Grief waiting for them. He had to admit, the academy was beginning to get to him. He didn’t usually have bad dreams. But the school and the people in it were slipping under his skin, working their way into his mind.
He thought about what he had heard. Dr Grief laughing – and something else … a clicking sound. That was strange. What had gone “click”? Had it actually been part of the dream? Suddenly Alex was completely awake. He got out of bed, went to the door and turned the handle. He was right. He hadn’t imagined the sound. While he was asleep, the door had been locked from outside.
Something had to be happening – and Alex was determined to see what it was. He got dressed as quickly as possible, then knelt down and examined the lock. He could make out two bolts, at least a centimetre in diameter, one at the top and one at the bottom. They must have been activated automatically. One thing was sure. He wasn’t going to get out through the door.
That left the window. All the bedroom windows were fastened with a steel rod that allowed them to open ten centimetres but no more. Alex picked up his Discman, put in the Beethoven CD and turned it on. The CD spun round – moving at a fantastic speed – then slowly edged forward, still spinning, until it protruded from the casing. Alex pressed the edge of the CD against the steel rod. It took just a few seconds. The CD cut through the steel like scissors through paper. The rod fell away, allowing the window to swing fully open.
It was snowing. Alex turned the CD player off and threw it back on his bed. Then he put on his coat and climbed out of the window. He was one floor up. Normally a fall from that height would have broken an ankle or a leg. But it had been snowing for the best part of ten hours and a white bank had built up against the wall right beneath him. Alex lowered himself as far as he could, then let go. He fell through the air and hit the snow, disappearing as far as his waist. He was freezing and damp before he had even started. But he was unhurt.
He climbed out of the snow and began to move round the side of the building, making for the front. He would just have to hope that the main entrance wasn’t locked too. But somehow he was sure it wouldn’t be. His door had been locked automatically. Presumably a switch had been thrown and all the others had been locked too. Most of the boys would be asleep. Even the ones who were awake wouldn’t be going anywhere, leaving Dr Grief free to do whatever he wanted, coming and going as he pleased.
Alex had just made it to the side of the building when he heard the guards approach, boots crunching. There was nowhere to hide so he threw himself face-down into the snow, hugging the shadows. There were two of them. He could hear them talking softly in German but he didn’t dare look up. If he made any movement, they would see him. If they came too close, they would probably see him anyway. He held his breath, his heart pounding.
The guards walked past and round the corner. Their path would take them under his room. Would they see the open window? Alex had left the light off. Hopefully there would be no reason for them to look up. But he was still aware that he might not have much time. He had to move – now.
He lifted himself up and ran forward. His clothes were covered in snow and more flakes were falling, drifting into his eyes. It was the coldest part of the night and Alex was shivering by the time he reached the main door. What would he do if it was locked after all? He certainly wouldn’t be able to stay out in the open until morning.
But the door was unlocked. Alex pushed it open and slipped into the warmth and darkness of the main hall. The dragon fireplace was in front of him. There had been a fire earlier in the evening and the burnt-out logs were still smouldering in the hearth. Alex held his hands against the glow, trying to draw a little warmth into himself. Everything was silent. The empty corridors stretched into the distance, illuminated by a few low-watt bulbs that had been left on at intervals. Only now did it occur to Alex that he could have been mistaken from the start. Perhaps the doors were locked every night as part of the security. Perhaps he had jumped too quickly to the wrong conclusion and there was nothing going on after all.
“No…!”
It was a boy’s voice. A long, quavering shout that echoed through the school. A moment later, Alex heard feet stamping along a wooden corridor somewhere above. He looked for somewhere to hide and found it inside the fireplace, right next to the logs. The actual fire was contained in a metal basket. There was a wide space on each side between the basket and the brickwork that swept up to become the chimney. Alex crouched low, feeling the heat on the side of his face and legs. He looked out, past the two dragons, waiting to see what would happen.
Three people were coming down the stairs. M
rs Stellenbosch was the first. She was followed by two of the guards, dragging something between them. It was a boy! He was face-down, dressed only in his pyjamas, his bare feet sliding down the stone steps. Mrs Stellenbosch opened the library door and went in. The two guards followed. The door crashed shut. The silence returned.
It had all happened very quickly. Alex had been unable to see the boy’s face. But he was sure he knew who it was. He had known just from the sound of his voice.
James Sprintz.
Alex eased himself out of the fireplace and crossed the hall, making for the library door. There was no sound coming from the other side. He knelt down and looked through the keyhole. No lights were on inside the room. He could see nothing. What should he do? If he went back upstairs, he could make it back to his room without being seen. He could wait until the doors were unlocked and then slip into bed. Nobody would know he had been out.
But the only person in the school who had shown him any kindness was on the other side of the library door. He had been dragged down here. Perhaps he was being brainwashed … beaten, even. Alex couldn’t just turn round and leave him.
Alex had made his decision. He threw open the door and walked in.
The library was empty.
He stood in the doorway, blinking. The library only had one door. All the windows were closed. There was no sign that anyone had been there. The suit of armour stood in its alcove at the end, watching him as he moved forward. Could he have been mistaken? Could Mrs Stellenbosch and the guards have gone into a different room?
Alex went over to the alcove and looked behind the armour, wondering if it might conceal a second exit. There was nothing. He tapped a knuckle against the wall. Curiously, it seemed to be made of metal, but unlike the wall across the stairs there was no handle, nothing to suggest a way through.
Point Blanc Page 10
