Itchcraft (26 page)

‘You know that’s not true. What are you doing?’

‘You have a lot of people interested in you, Itch. Around the world, it must be in the millions. And after those pictures from Madrid, there are more all the time. If you ask them for help—’

‘Lucy, it’s Facebook. I know the police were rubbish just then, but surely when it comes to—’

She looked at him fiercely, her eyes wide, eyebrows raised. They looked at each other for a few seconds and the penny dropped.

‘Don’t trust anyone,’ he said softly.

Lucy nodded and smiled.

‘OK. What should we put?’

‘Change your status. Say you’re looking for your sister and cousin. Kidnapped from Exeter hospital, maybe taken out via Bristol harbour. Put it in your own words, say what you want to say. Tell the truth.’

Itch took the laptop and typed. He showed Lucy and she smiled.

A knock at the door and Jude appeared. ‘You OK, Itch?’ She came in and stood awkwardly in front of them. ‘Dad says he’ll be back tomorrow. I know how much you want to talk to him.’

Itch didn’t notice the tone of hurt in his mother’s voice, though Lucy did.

‘Here – sit down,’ she said. ‘Have the police gone yet?’

‘Not yet. They’ve requested a media blackout till they know what’s happening. They asked me to tell you.’

‘Too late,’ said Itch. ‘Just posted.’ He showed her the status update.

Please help find my sister Chloe Lofte, 13, and cousin Jacqueline Lofte, 15. They are both tall and pretty. Kidnapped today from Exeter hospital by Greencorps agents. Possibly out of Bristol. Don’t believe what Greencorps tell you – they’ll come for me next.

Jude looked up from the laptop. ‘I have a feeling the police are going to go crazy,’ she said.

‘Maybe . . .’ Itch shrugged.

‘But we need them, Itch! We need them to be as desperate as we are, not really hacked off because you’re making them look stupid.’

‘It was my idea,’ said Lucy. ‘Sorry, Mrs Lofte – it just seemed the best way to tell everyone, that’s all.’

There was another knock at the door and DCI Abbott came in, flushed and clearly furious. ‘Mrs Lofte. Itch and Lucy. I said a media blackout was in place! We asked the news organizations to wait before reporting this incident and they agreed. But if you’re going to splash this about yourself, then I’m afraid we have lost control of the story already.’

Itch was up on his feet again. His room was small, the policewoman close. If he hadn’t been taller than her, they’d have been eyeball to eyeball. ‘OK . . . first, it’s not about “losing control of a story”, it’s about finding Jack and Chloe. You can’t control this anyway. And second, you didn’t tell me till it was too late. I had already posted before Mum told me.’

DCI Abbott, fighting to control herself, snapped back, ‘The purpose of controlling the story is to speed up the return of your sister and cousin. When we are ready, and we have all our stakeholders all working together, then we can get maximum impact and spread the net as wide—’

Now it was Jude’s turn to struggle. ‘
Stakeholders?
What in God’s name are you talking about? I’m sorry – I know we have to work together on this. I know you’ll do your best. You know we’re desperate to get our girls back, but please talk to us normally. And start by using words everyone understands.’

From outside came the sound of cars pulling up and doors slamming. Inside, the phone was ringing. Abbott held out her hands. ‘That’s the sound of a story
out of control
. There’ll be trucks here soon – things will move fast. From now on we need to work
together
. Maybe we can use your Facebook account to help Chloe and Jack – but tell us first, OK?’ She tried another one of her forced smiles, and Itch grimaced.

Later that evening, heralded by a barrage of flashes from the photographers, Gabriel returned from Exeter in an ambulance. He embraced his mother and brother and then broke down. Itch was shocked to see tears running down his bruised face; he had never seen his brother traumatized like this.

The words tumbled out. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum! I don’t know what happened. We were all in a waiting room, waiting for Chloe’s appointment. I went to move the car, and . . . then I was coming round and a nurse was telling me that Chloe and Jack had been taken!’ He was holding Jude’s hands – something else Itch had never seen before.

In the harsh light of the kitchen, Jude inspected his injuries. Gabriel winced. ‘One sharp blow to the temple,’ he said. ‘That’s all it took. How embarrassing. Small cut, big bruise.’ He looked at Itch. ‘They said we were followed to the hospital. Sorry, buddy, but I missed that.’

‘Hire van,’ said Itch. ‘Two Greencorps men. We met them before, at the mining school. Hacked them off by escaping with the 126.’

‘I remember the story.’ Gabriel felt his bruise and shook his head slowly. ‘This is all my fault! If I could have protected them somehow . . . if I’d stayed with them, none of this would have happened . . . They must be so scared . . .’ He trailed off.

‘Yes,’ said Itch, ‘but they’re tougher than you think, Gabe. And they’ve got each other.’

Gabriel closed his eyes together as if in prayer, but there were more tears running down his cheeks. ‘I know that, you guys have been through a lot. But what do we do now?’ said Gabriel. ‘We have to do something. Do we all hold a press conference? Can we help the search somehow?’

Itch went to rummage for some snacks – and to hide his feelings. Gabriel was asking him what to do next! It had never, ever been like this. Growing up, he had always deferred to his older brother, and always assumed he would know what the right course of action would be. Now Gabe was as lost as everyone else.

Lucy and her mother stayed the night. Once the media had set up camp outside Itch’s house, neither of them fancied battling their way through. Jon and Zoe had faced a barrage of cameras and lights when they left, and Nicola was horrified.

‘We’ve got lots of room,’ said Jude. ‘Please do stay. It would be nice to have some company. With Nicholas away, there’s strength in numbers. It’ll be no trouble, really.’ She smiled sadly.

‘Lucy can have my room,’ offered Itch. ‘I’ll sleep on Gabe’s floor.’

‘If you’re sure that’s OK,’ said Lucy.

‘I might need to tidy a few things,’ he said, ‘but that’d be great.’

‘I’ll make up the spare bed,’ said Jude, and she disappeared upstairs.

Itch was clearing the table, but he suddenly stopped and listened to the creaking of the floorboards. He could tell that his mother had crossed the landing to Chloe’s room. He waited for her to move on. He imagined her looking around at the posters, the make-up, her still packed bag from Spain. It was quite some time before the boards creaked again and Itch resumed putting the plates away. The house had plenty of people in it, and many more outside, but it was the missing Chloe who seemed to fill the house with silence.

While Jude and Nicola talked late into the night, Itch and Lucy moved bedding and elements around.

‘I’m not bothered about your collection, Itch, really,’ said Lucy. ‘It’s just for one night, and if there’s some iodine or sulphur knocking about with your pyjamas, I can live with that.’

‘Thanks,’ said Itch, ‘but they’re better put away.’

While he worked, they listened to the muffled voices of their mothers talking downstairs. Itch froze each time he heard Jude sobbing.

‘I’m glad we could stay,’ said Lucy.

‘Me too.’ Itch stuffed some jeans into a drawer, then sighed and leaned his forehead against the wall. ‘I can’t stop thinking about what might be happening to Jack and Chlo.’ He banged his head a few times. ‘I didn’t want to mention it to Mum, but I’m really scared for them, Lucy.’

She came and stood next to him. After a moment she put her hand on his shoulder. ‘OK, stop. This is not helping. We’re all thinking the same stuff, but here’s the thing – we don’t know anything. Not for certain, anyway. So it’s laptop time again.’

Itch handed it over and Lucy looked at Itch’s Facebook page.

‘Two hundred thousand notifications. Roughly. Still five thousand friend requests.’ She clicked and read, clicked and read. ‘Support from all over the world, Itch. Tons from Spain – literally tons. All after Madrid, I suppose. Loads apologizing for their burning money and the riots. They’re saying they’ll watch out for Jack and Chlo. You should accept all these requests, Itch. Who knows who might be able to help? Oh, and a message from Mary Lee again. Or Leila, as she says she’s called.’

‘Saying what?’ said Itch, looking up.

‘
Sympathies Itchingham
,’ read Lucy. ‘
We tell everyone about Greencorps. We hope your family is reunited soon
.’

‘They haven’t been caught, then,’ he said. ‘Still evading the Nigerian cops.’

‘Corrupt as hell, you said. Must help a bit.’

‘Guess so.’

‘And loads from school. Chloe’s friends; Jack’s friends. And that vicar from Mr Watkins’s funeral says she’s praying for them.’

‘I think we’ll take help from anywhere,’ said Itch, yawning. ‘Whether it’s the vicar or Facebook. So yes to the friend requests.’

‘All of them?’

‘All of them.’

‘OK, I’ll sort it. Now you need to sleep,’ Lucy insisted.

‘I don’t want to, I really don’t. Feels like I should stay awake. Just in case something happens.’

Lucy pushed him to the door. ‘Your dad’s back tomorrow, Itch. Go to sleep. I promise I won’t mess up your room.’

He hesitated a moment, then nodded and headed for Gabriel’s room.

Itch had always been an early riser, but when your family is the lead story on the news, you wake when the first Breakfast TV lights go on. An unusually fierce brightness was shining through the curtains of Gabriel’s room at 5.55 a.m. and, with a sinking, squirming stomach, Itch knew that his day had started.

Realizing that his brother was already up, he bounded down the stairs to find the kitchen already full. Jude and Gabriel were sitting with Jon and Zoe, neither of whom appeared to have slept a wink. DCI Underwood had returned, along with a policewoman he hadn’t seen before. Lucy was there too, wearing one of his old T-shirts; she smiled at him and gave a ‘flatten-your-hair’ gesture.

‘Any news?’ asked Itch. ‘What’s happening?’ He permitted himself a micro-second of anticipation, while at the same time knowing full well that if Chloe and Jack had been found, he would have been woken. And people wouldn’t be looking so tense.

Jude shook her head slowly. ‘Nothing, I’m afraid, Itch, no. This is PC Jade Greaves – she’s a family liaison officer or something. She’ll help with dealing with the press and—’

‘Tell us about the search,’ interrupted Itch. ‘Where are you looking? Two people can’t just disappear into thin air.’

PC Greaves had been about to speak, but now deferred to DCI Underwood. For a moment he looked uncomfortable at being questioned by a fifteen-year-old, but then produced a sheaf of notes.

‘Well, as I said yesterday, Interpol is aware of Jack and Chloe’s disappearance—’

‘Kidnap,’ said Itch and Gabriel together.

Underwood appeared to weigh the word for a moment, then accepted it. ‘“Kidnap” is the most likely scenario, yes. OK. But there have been no ransom demands to date. The CCTV at the hospital doesn’t appear to have been working in the corridors we checked. The van the two men used has been searched and tested. It’s covered in fingerprints, as you might expect, including those of your sister and cousin. There’s no doubt they were there, just no clues as to where they were taken afterwards. It’s been cleared of all papers, emptied of evidence. The hire company is accessing the documents this morning; we should have that information soon.’

Itch looked disappointed: the van had been the best chance of a clue.

Almost as an afterthought, Underwood added, ‘We did find two numbers scratched into the plastic seats, but we don’t even know how old they are. So they might mean nothing.’

‘What are they?’ said Itch.

Underwood accessed an email on his phone and found the attached photo. He passed it to Jude first. Everyone leaned in to see.

‘Is that a
41
and a
19
?’ she asked, passing it on to Jon and Zoe.

They squinted at the numbers. ‘Could be,’ said Zoe. ‘They’re a bit on top of each other.’ She handed it to Itch.

He looked at the numbers – a series of indentations made by what could have been a sharp fingernail. And Itch knew exactly what they were.

‘It’s not 41 and 19.’

‘What?’ said Lucy.

‘Excuse me?’ said Underwood.

‘It’s not 41 and 19,’ repeated Itch. And, to the bewilderment of everyone in the kitchen, he sprinted for the door.

Itch ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

‘So you
did
listen after all!’ he shouted when he reached his room. He grabbed his bag and hurtled back down the stairs, jumping the last six and almost crashing into his uncle Jon. ‘She
did
listen, Uncle Jon!’ and he pulled him into the kitchen. Sweeping away numerous cups and mugs, Itch spread the Periodic Table poster Hampton had given him out on the table. ‘They’re in Spain!’ he announced.

There was silence in the kitchen – looks of incredulity from the police and astonishment from the family.

‘How do you work that out, then?’ asked Gabriel. Jude and Zoe came over to get a closer look.

‘Before we left for Madrid, Mr Hampton explained that some elements have different names in Spanish. When we were in the science museum, Chloe found a T-shirt with the same design. I was showing her, but I thought she wasn’t paying attention.’ He pointed to two elements Hampton had circled on the poster. ‘Silver and gold. The elements I was telling her about. In Spanish, they’re
plata
and
oro
, but obviously still on top of each other on the table: numbers 47 and 79. That’s what she’s carved into the car. Chloe must have heard where they were going and written the only thing she could think of which wouldn’t alert the Greencorps men – it almost didn’t alert you guys, either.’

He noticed Lucy and Gabriel wince at his final comment, and wondered whether he’d overstepped the mark. Jude inspected the photo on DCI Underwood’s phone again.