Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (5 page)

“Hi, Mum. It's me … Johnny. I'm sorry it's been so long. I'm still living at Halader House—out in Essex. Mr. Wilkins—the cook—he's horrid as ever. Hate to think what he puts in the
food. Mrs. Irvine's still there too. And I've got a new social worker. She's American—really nice. She came on the train with me. Bentley's here too. I know he misses you. On the train, Mr. Wilkins was saying I should forget you. But I miss you, Mum … and Dad. I wish you'd get better so I didn't have to live there any more. You know I don't believe any of those things they said you and Dad did.”

He hadn't meant to say all that, but once he'd started it just poured out—he didn't have anyone else he could say this sort of stuff to. As he talked he half noticed the lines on the EEG spike, just for a second. He'd probably imagined it. He tried to compose himself and started again.

“I've built a cool computer there. It talks and I've called it Kovac. I'm getting really good at computers. Wish you could come to a parent's evening. You'd be dead proud—honest. And I'm in the football team. We're in the county final—we won the semi yesterday … three–one. And when I came back Kovac was saying there was a signal. I've got him set up doing a kind of special SETI thing. That's the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. You know—looking for aliens. They've got to be out there and I'm going to find them and make you really proud and I'll be famous, and maybe rich, and I'll be able to get you out of here and looked after by some proper doctors—not like Dr. Carrington—and they'll make you better … promise. So when I get back tonight I'll do some more work and try and find out what it was and where it came from. It seemed really close.”

There it was again. He was sure there'd been a spike this time. Maybe he should go and fetch Dr. Carrington? And then it was as though a wind was blowing around the room. Johnny felt his hand getting warmer and warmer, but he couldn't seem to let go of his mother's. It was like when he was dreaming he had to run away from something, but however quickly his legs moved he stayed rooted to the spot. He wasn't afraid—it didn't
feel like a bad dream. Now his hand was hot, or rather something hot was in his hand. But it wasn't burning him—it was as if the warmth was flowing up his arm and energizing his whole body. The EEG was now off the scale. His mother's eyes looked suddenly silvery bright, and it wasn't just her eyes. A light was emanating from her. Her body twitched and the light went out. The plastic jug flew off the trolley, scattering the gerberas across the floor, the window slammed shut and the room was suddenly still.

Johnny let go of his mother's hand and something fell to the floor. It was a sort of pendant on a chain. He picked it up but didn't have time to look at it. The door burst open, sending the wedged chair flying across the room and in came the man in the suit, followed by Dr. Carrington and Miss Harutunian. Instinctively, Johnny slipped the pendant into his trouser pocket.

“What's going on?” asked Stevens. “What happened? What was that noise?” As he spoke Bentley bared his teeth and growled.

“She moved,” said Johnny. “She moved and those lines starting going funny on the screen over there.” He was pointing at the EEG.

“Impossible,” said Dr. Carrington, coming over to the bedside. He looked at Johnny's mother and checked the machines, which by now had returned to normal.

“Oh, Johnny,” said Miss Harutunian. “And just look at your flowers.” She put a hand on his chin and took out a tissue to wipe his face. Johnny hadn't noticed he'd been crying.

“No. There's no record of anything here,” said Dr. Carrington. “Johnny must be imagining it. Either that or it was a reflex. A reflex … yes.” He looked at the machines and then to Miss Harutunian, as though for confirmation.

“Yeah—it's classic wish fulfillment,” the American replied.
“Of course nothing happened.”

“But she did …” said Johnny, annoyed at feeling invisible again. But then he caught sight of Stevens and stopped. He realized he didn't want to say any more.

“What's that
thing
doing in here?” Stevens was looking at Bentley. He moved toward the dog while taking out some sort of weapon from a holster inside his jacket. It was probably a taser gun—Johnny hadn't seen anything like it before. Bentley growled again.

Johnny got up. “Leave him alone,” he said.

Stevens looked at Johnny, who felt a chill pass through him for a moment. The man's eyes were ice cold.

“No dogs in the facility,” said Stevens. “If you don't get it out of here in ten seconds it'll never leave.” He pointed the weapon at Bentley.

“No!” said Johnny, stepping between the man and the dog.

“Nine, eight, seven …” Stevens counted down.

Bentley was facing Stevens as though about to pounce. Johnny had never seen him like this before.

“How dare you talk to Johnny like that,” said Miss Harutunian, also stepping between Stevens and the sheepdog. The man kept the gun where it was, now pointing directly at the social worker. Dr. Carrington looked frantically from one to the other.

“Four … three …”

Johnny took Bentley's lead and yanked it with all his strength, dragging the dog along the floor toward the door.

“Two … one …”

They were out of the door. Looking back he saw Stevens turn to Dr. Carrington. “Get them out of here now,” he said.

“Yes, of course, yes,” Dr. Carrington mumbled.

“Don't think you've heard the last of this,” Miss Harutunian shouted at Stevens, as Dr. Carrington shepherded her toward
the door. Johnny was fighting to stop Bentley from going back inside. He could see Stevens pointing the weapon at his mother and cautiously approaching the bed.

“Leave her alone,” Johnny shouted, as Dr. Carrington closed the door behind them.

“What's going on? Who was that man?” Miss Harutunian demanded.

Dr. Carrington shook his head. “You've got to leave … now,” he said, spreading his long arms and herding Johnny and Miss Harutunian down the corridor at speed. Bentley followed very reluctantly, looking back over his shoulder and whimpering every so often. In no time at all they were back at the main reception. Dr. Carrington's hands were shaking but he managed to enter a code number into a box on the wall and opened the clear glass exit door. “I don't think you should come and see your mother again, Jonathan.”

“Not see his mother?” The social worker looked apoplectic. “Johnny has every right …”

“Please, Miss Harutunian,” pleaded Dr. Carrington. “I'll sign you out. Trust me.” He took the social worker's hand and shook it goodbye. “Go.”

Miss Harutunian seemed to calm down. “Come on, Johnny. Let's go then,” she said. The American led Johnny and Bentley through the oak doors and out into a swirling wind. The incinerator tower was silhouetted against a dark sky, far angrier than when they'd set out that morning. Heads down, neither spoke as they crossed the hospital grounds and reached the little stone bridge that marked the path back to Wittonbury station. As they crossed it began to pour with rain and soon Johnny was soaked through. He hoped they wouldn't have to wait too long for a train.

The bedraggled figures of Johnny, Bentley and Miss
Harutunian trudged across the bleak carpark between Castle Dudbury railway station and the children's home, only to find the rear entrance locked. Fed up, they walked round the building and turned the corner into Barnard Way just in time to see the last of the other children being ushered through the main doors to Halader House by Mrs. Irvine. “Come along, you two,” she shouted, holding a door open for them. “You're both soaked.” Gratefully, they all went inside, where they were greeted by a blast of warm air from the heaters in the entrance hall. “Jonathan—go and get yourself cleaned up. Dinner's at seven tonight. Miss Harutunian—I want to hear all about your visit. We'll go to my office.”

Johnny took Bentley straight up the stairs before anyone could tell him not to and followed the corridor round till he reached the spiral staircase to his room. He climbed the stairs and collapsed on top of his bed. He couldn't believe he'd resisted looking at the pendant for the entire train journey home, but for some reason he hadn't wanted to show it to Miss Harutunian. Now he took it out of his pocket and turned it over in his hand. It was heavy—he guessed it might even be gold. He couldn't work out where it had come from. He was bound to have noticed something in his mum's hand before. Maybe a nurse had left it in the room by accident. An inscription reading simply “
for love
” had been engraved on the back. A line of five crystals ran down the front with a further one on either side, all surrounded by blue diamond-shaped markings. He ran his finger over one of the crystals and the pendant suddenly sprang open. Something fell out. Panicking he searched the duvet before finding a lock of black hair, even including the roots, all held together by a very fine blue ribbon on which the name “Nicholas” was written in beautiful, minute handwriting. It was a locket, not a pendant, and inside were two more locks of hair, both blond, one bound with a golden ribbon with the name “Jonathan” written on it and the
other, in a lilac ribbon, that read “Clara.”

The inside of the locket held two photos, one in each half. There was a dark-haired man, a blond woman and an Old English sheepdog in one side. He looked closer—the picture was small but it did look like Bentley. He'd seen photos of his father, Michael Mackintosh, once before in some old newspapers, and he recognized his mum. The couple were beaming huge smiles at the camera. Johnny's heart was beating off the scale—he didn't have any pictures of his parents. But what was even stranger were the three faces in the other half of the locket. The image made no sense. Johnny was sure he'd seen a magnifying glass somewhere. He rummaged around in the box underneath his bed until he found it—it must have belonged to his dad at some point. He picked up the locket and held it underneath the lampshade in the middle of the room, peering through the lens. There was no question. The middle face was him, Johnny, but it wasn't a picture of him as a baby. It was him now. He could clearly see the lapels of his suit jacket that he'd thrown onto the bed when he came in. But how? And was that his brother Nicky on one side of him? If it was, he was wearing weird clothes and looking as though he was nearly twenty when in fact he'd died eleven years earlier. It was hard to say as half the person's face was in shadow. And on the other side was a blond girl who looked two or three years younger than Johnny. Was this Clara?
Who
was Clara?

He changed out of his wet clothes, said goodbye to Bentley who was drying out underneath the bed by the radiator, and opened the trapdoor. Down two sets of stairs and back on the ground floor, he tiptoed past the dining room where the hubbub suggested everyone was already eating. He hurried along the corridor past the kitchens and soon came to the door of the computer room. This time Johnny was confident—he knew he could open it and, almost before he stretched out his hand, he heard the soft click of the electronic mechanism
unlocking. He turned the door handle, walked across to the table and switched the master computer on.

“Good evening, Johnny,” said Kovac.

“Kovac—scan images—maximum resolution,” Johnny replied. He walked over to the far wall where he placed the opened locket face down on top of a flatbed scanner.

“Scan complete,” Kovac said after a few seconds. “Displaying results.”

Johnny sat down in front of the computer. “Kovac—overlay grid—20 by 10 squares,” he said, studying the screen on which gridlines instantly appeared. Clara was on the far right.

“Kovac—enhance P to S, 4 to 9,” said Johnny and as he did so the girl's face was magnified while a new grid was superimposed across it.

“Kovac—copy and save as Clara one.”

Johnny leaned back in the chair and wondered how best to begin a search for this mysterious Clara. Looking for patterns was something he'd designed Kovac specifically for, but this was still a very complex problem. The web was the obvious choice so he asked the computer to compare his file with all internet images.

An hour later and Johnny was getting nowhere. He'd examined lots of Kovac's “possibles” but there were no matches he'd describe as “probables.” He wasn't too surprised. He needed another way.

“Kovac—print Clara one.”

The sound of the printer whirring into life was nearly drowned out by Johnny's stomach rumbling. He suddenly realized how hungry he was. “Kovac—shut down—maintain background functions,” he instructed. Then he got up, took the photo from the printer and the locket from the scanner and went out of the computer room door. He ran through the Halader House corridors till he was back in his bedroom, where
he put both the printout and the locket under his pillow. He turned to leave the room and was halfway to the trapdoor when he stopped. He walked back over to the bed, picked up the chain and slipped it over his head, tucking the locket inside his T-shirt. Then he headed out of the room and down his private staircase, desperately hoping he could sneak out for some chips without anyone noticing.