The Ability (Ability, The) (31 page)

“Invitation, please,” said the man. Chris handed him his invitation and in turn watched as the handheld machine scanned the small gold bar code printed on the bottom left of the card. The machine flashed green, and the man waved Chris through.

“Enjoy your evening,” he said, as Chris stepped out onto the ring road surrounding a spotlit Marble Arch. Chris looked around in awe. He felt as if he had traveled back in time—the only transport was a long line of at least a hundred ornate glass carriages, each led by a white horse and a driver in a white top hat and suit.

“Can you see the carriages ‘Vanguard’ and ‘Albemarle’?” asked Sir Bentley, looking at the ticket the security guard had given him.

“They are yonder!” said Sebastian, spotting the gold lettering on the side of the two carriages at the front of the line. They all ran toward them.

“Children, stop!” said Sir Bentley. He walked up to them. “You have to remember to stay with me until we get to the ball, and then you
must
stay in your assigned places. Please don’t forget that you are working tonight.”

The children all nodded obediently and walked alongside Sir Bentley.

“Chris and Rex, you can both accompany me in the first carriage. The rest of you can follow us in the other.”

Daisy, Lexi, Philip, and Sebastian ran off toward their carriage.

“Good evening,” said the driver, who was dressed all in white and holding the reins to a beautiful white mare, which stood still and majestic, waiting for his orders.

“And good evening to you,” said Sir Bentley. “We’re scheduled to be leaving a bit early—I hope that was explained.”

“Yes, sir,” said the driver. “We’re ready to go when you are.”

Sir Bentley thanked the man and walked over to the glass door of the carriage, turning the gold handle and opening it up to let Chris and Rex in. The boys clambered in and sat in the white and gold leather seat at the back, and Sir Bentley sat opposite them, closing the door behind him.

“And off we go,” said Sir Bentley, as the horses sprang to life and the two carriages, sparkling under the streetlights, set off down the road. Chris and Rex jumped up and down on the seat in excitement, not noticing the note of trepidation in Sir Bentley’s voice.

•  •  •

The carriages proceeded slowly down Park Lane, which had been cleared of traffic, and behind the barriers that had been erected at the side of the road a growing mass of curious people stopped and pointed in awe at their two-carriage procession, two crystal balls gliding along under the moonlight. A small part of Chris was aware that he
should be on the lookout for the boy in the photograph, but except for cursory glances amongst the gathering crowds, he spent the ride laughing and chatting with Rex, who for once had nothing but positive things to say.

“They think we’re famous!” said Rex, waving to the crowds and enjoying the celebrity.

The crowds cheered and cameras flashed as the children grinned.

“I think we’re here,” said Chris, as the carriages took a turn right and stopped at the Queen Elizabeth Gate, which was heavily guarded by what seemed like a hundred police officers. Beside them, less than ten feet from where the carriages stood as they waited for security clearance, the final group of bystanders was jostling forward, trying to get a look at their carriages and perhaps even a glimpse of the palace.

Rex leaned over to Chris’s side of the carriage and looked out of the window.

“They’re practically green with envy!” said Rex, holding up his invitation as a tease to a group of boys on the curb beside them.

“I can’t see the palace,” said Chris, as the carriages were waved through by the line of police.

“It’s just round the corner; you’ll see it in a moment,” said Sir Bentley.

Sure enough, a few minutes later the carriages made their way round the black wall of oak trees that had been blocking their view, and the Serpentine Lake appeared before them, a gleaming blanket of solid ice that had been lit from beneath, as if the moon had been laid down on
the ground at the foot of the ice palace standing behind it.

Both boys gasped.

Although they had spent the last few weeks discussing and imagining what the palace would look like, nothing had quite prepared them for the size or magnificence of the scene before them. The enormous palace, supported by crystal-clear carved columns, was made entirely of ice, which sparkled under the cool white light of a hundred spotlights; leading up to it was a path overlooked by two lines of trees carved out of ice, white lanterns hanging from their branches.

“It’s amazing!” said Chris, leaning forward out of his seat, his face pressed up against the side of the carriage.

“It must be as big as Big Ben,” said Rex.

“Almost,” said Sir Bentley, “and made of more than five thousand blocks of ice, each one taller than me. Look”—he pointed to the top of the palace wall—“up there you can see that the ice has been carved out—each section depicts a scene from the voyages of James Cook.”

The boys looked up and marveled at the scenes of ships, icebergs, and animals.

“And if you think that’s incredible, wait until you see inside,” said Sir Bentley as the carriage came to a stop.

“Good evening, Sir Bentley,” said the waiting footman, opening the door for them.

“Good evening,” said Sir Bentley, stepping out onto the red carpet that ran up to the arched entrance of the palace.

“Good evening, boys. Welcome to the Antarctic Ball,” said the footman as the boys jumped down.

“Hi!” said Chris and Rex, waving to their carriage driver
and hurrying past the footman to catch up with Sir Bentley. Behind them the other children jumped out of their carriage and ran over to them, but before they had a chance to say anything to one another, Sir Bentley stopped them.

“I know you are all terribly excited, but I have a lot to discuss with you before the other guests arrive. I don’t suppose you’ll listen to a word I say until you’ve had a chance to look around, so I’m going to give you five minutes—and I mean five—and then I want you to meet me back here and we can get started.”

Sir Bentley had barely finished his sentence before the children ran off through the archway and into the great hall of the palace.

“Wow!” said Lexi as they all stopped dead in their tracks.

Chris, standing next to her, looked up, awestruck. For a moment nobody said a word. Directly in front of them, in the center of the vast room, was a circular wall of ice from which rose a life-size ice whale, which spouted water high up into the vaulted ceiling of the palace and back down into the black rippling waters contained below.

“I can’t work out how it doesn’t fall over,” said Philip, walking up to the fountain and looking up for wires. “It just doesn’t make sense,” he said.

“It’s magic,” said Daisy.

“No such thing as magic,” said Philip, now peering intently into the water.

“Of course there is,” said Daisy, and while Philip didn’t look satisfied with this answer, he let her lead him away to join the rest of them, who were standing at one end of a table of ice that ran far into the distance, along the back
wall, and back round the other side. Each setting was laid with crystal plates, glasses, silver cutlery, and a carefully folded white cloth napkin on which lay a place card with the name of the guest handwritten in gold ink.

“I wonder where we’re sitting,” said Lexi, reading the names as she walked along the table.

“We don’t have time,” said Chris. “We have to be back in three minutes—it’ll take forever to find our names in here. Let’s look around more.”

They all nodded in agreement and spent the next few minutes running around and trying to take in everything—the ice statues of the animals of the Antarctic; the carved replica of James Cook’s ship, the
Endeavour
, atop an ice plinth behind the top table; the tunnel onto the iced lake outside, lined with ice skates for the children to help themselves to; and their favorite—through an archway toward the back of the palace—the ice cream room, filled with iced vats of every flavor ice cream surrounded by hundreds of glass bowls filled with toppings.

Out of time and having explored only half of the palace, the children rushed back to Sir Bentley, who was surrounded by guards in white uniforms and police officers.

“Ah, here they are,” said Sir Bentley, motioning for the children to join him next to Ron and John and a group of other guards that Chris didn’t recognize.

“This is Christopher, Rex, Lexi, Philip, Sebastian, and Daisy,” said Sir Bentley. “They will be stationed at the entrance until the people they are escorting arrive—except for Christopher, who will be accompanying me,
and Sebastian and Rex, who will stay with security at the entrance for the entire evening with Ron and John.”

Ron and John both nodded their heads in unison.

“I’m not going to go into any more detail, but these six children have been briefed to look out for the boy in the photograph that you have all been given. They have full security clearance, and if they report anything suspicious to you, I expect you all to act immediately, without question. Is everybody clear on that?”

All the guards except Ron and John nodded, though Chris could see from the way they were looking at him that some of them were skeptical about following instructions from a group of twelve-year-olds.

“Good,” said Sir Bentley. “The carriages will begin arriving in five minutes. The VIP guests, including the prime minister and other heads of state, will arrive at the same time as the invited children, so you must all keep your wits about you at all times. Right—everybody to their posts, and let’s make sure that everything runs smoothly tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” they all said, dispersing in every direction.

Chris and the other pupils followed Ron and John over to the security desk at the entrance and waited. As the minutes ticked by, a growing sense of unease came over them all, as they were suddenly aware that, at any time, all their training could be called into use.

From behind them the sound of the orchestra started to play, filling the room with classical music, and up ahead, from beyond the lake, Chris saw the procession of glass carriages come into view.

“I’m scared,” whispered Daisy.

“It’s all right; I’m sure nothing’s going to happen,” said Chris, though he felt just as nervous as Daisy looked.

The nerves eased off as the guests began to arrive and the room started to fill with excited chatter. The orchestra played as the waiting staff walked round with silver trays of colorful hors d’oeuvres and drinks. Excited children ran around the palace, cones filled with scoop upon scoop of every flavor ice cream, stopping only to stare in wonder at the fantastic statues of ice, while the pupils of Myers Holt could only watch in envy.

Clarissa Teller was the first familiar face that came through the entrance. She greeted Chris and Rex warmly, hugging them both, and was introduced to Lexi, who led her off to give her a tour of the palace. Soon after, to great excitement from the guests that had already arrived, the prime minister and his wife walked in. He smiled as he walked past security and straight over to Sir Bentley.

“How are you, sir?” asked the prime minister.

“Very well, Edward, very well.”

“Any developments?” asked the prime minister.

“None. But we have everything well taken care of. Just enjoy your evening—we’ll do the rest.”

“Excellent. So where are my two chaperones, Philip and Daisy?” asked the prime minister.

Philip and Daisy stepped forward, looking starstruck and slightly nervous.

“Ah, wonderful! I’ve heard I’m in good hands with you two—is that right?”

“Yes, sir,” said Philip.

“Good. Well, come with me; we have lots of people to meet.”

Philip and Daisy waved to Chris, Rex, and Sebastian and hurried off behind the prime minister, who was already by the fountain, shaking hands with the prime minister of Canada.

After a while, and following a quick word with Rex and Sebastian about staying vigilant, Sir Bentley motioned for Chris to follow him away from the entrance. Chris did as told without a word and stood dutifully at Sir Bentley’s side as he walked around greeting guests. Every so often, Chris looked over at Rex and Sebastian, who were staring intently at each child standing in line at the entrance. He was keenly aware that at any moment they might need help.

Ernest stood in line, tugging at his bow tie uncomfortably, his nerves growing as he neared the wall of security blocking the entrance to the ball. Behind him, some fifty feet away, was his mother, standing alone, and following in a carriage behind was his brother, Mortimer. Ernest fought the urge not to look back at them for reassurance.

“We’ll do best if we split up,” his mother had said that morning, giving Ernest strict instructions to ignore them when they arrived at the ball. “It would be impossible to avoid notice if identical twin brothers walked in together.”

“Yes, Mother,” Ernest had said, and at the time he had felt thrilled that his mother had trusted him to work on his own.

The group of four girls in front of him skipped forward
and were waved through after having their invitations scanned, leaving Ernest to approach the desk on his own, head bowed low.