Mumbersons and The Blood Secret, The (4 page)

Billy and Olivia ran along Fivefold St towards the steps, then raced down them two at a time. Stevedore panted along behind. Below them some shops were already shutting up for the night. As they came into The Broadway, Billy’s ear stung at the memory of what had happened at Mr Frizzer’s barbershop yesterday. The shop now had different sign on the door:
Closed for a Fortnight
. Puzzled, Billy stopped for a moment, and Olivia, who was texting and not looking where she was going, banged into him.

‘Watch out!’

‘Sorry. Just making some background notes. It’s what reporters do.’

Billy shook his head and carried on running past the shops towards the hill that led up to the Factory, Olivia keeping up and texting at the same time. Billy wasn’t sure what he was going to say to his Dad about Olivia coming, though he had a good idea what his Dad’s reaction would be when he saw her. ‘I see you brought your shadow again,’ he’d mutter.

They slowed down when they reached the bottom of Habitation Hill. It was the steepest street in Skittleton, and cable cars shuttled up and down the middle of it from early morning till late at night. Olivia was about to jump on the car that was ready to leave when Billy asked, ‘Have you got any money for the fare?’

‘No. You keep moving around the outside of the car so the ticket collector doesn’t catch up with you.’

‘That’s dishonest. I’ll pay.’ They sat on the outside seat. Stevedore, after a bit of noisy whimpering at being left behind, decided it was time to go home, and headed in that direction.

As always there were skateboarders zipping back and forth in front of the cable car. They weren’t known as the Ninja Chickens for nothing. Olivia waved at one. ‘Hi, Liam!’ The boy, who was three or four years older than Billy, and more solidly built, grinned and waved back as he bounced his board over the tram tracks, missing the front of the car by inches.

The car reached the top of the street in three minutes. Billy and Olivia jumped off before it stopped, earning them a telling off from the ticket collector.

There were lights on in the Factory’s Extension building, because the evening shift had started work. Mr Khafoops would already be overseeing his staff. Like Billy’s Dad, he was in charge of about twenty men and women in the Innovation Unit. They dealt with special requests, jobs that weren’t routinely done in the main Factory. Each of these jobs had to be worked out in detail before they could start; sometimes they had to get the machine shops to make up new parts. Billy’s Dad was proud of the work they did. ‘It requires a lot of creative thinking,’ Jerry said. ‘We get orders from all over the country.’

Billy and Olivia reached the Factory’s main gate, but there was no sign of Jerry. Strangely, there was no security guard on duty either. And more strangely still, the gate, with its Triple W Sisters logo - three Ws interwoven with an S - was wide open.

Billy read the text again.
Meet me at the Factory gates
, it said. ‘Maybe he’s inside, in his car.’ They ran through the gate, which closed behind them, as though it had been waiting for them to come in. ‘Weird,’ said Olivia.

Billy looked around the car park for his Dad’s blue Fiesta. Jerry, like Mr Khafoops, usually parked his car in the large area to the right, between the old building and the high brick wall that wound around the entire property. There were two or three dozen other cars there, but Billy couldn’t see his father’s anywhere.

The Factory’s main building had originally been an extravagant three-storey mansion, a private house with dozens of rooms. It had been the talk of the town, because of the huge parties that were held there. But all good things come to an end. When the last remaining family member died, the mansion was sold, and eventually converted into the Factory. Most of the trees and bushes in the magnificent garden were uprooted, and the flower beds concreted over, to make way for car parks. Now the only flower beds were at the front steps of the old building. They contained ugly brown plants with long pointed leaves that looked after themselves, and didn’t need gardeners to keep them tidy.

Olivia had gone out of sight behind a green Holden when Billy bumped into a security guard. The guard, who seemed to have come out of nowhere, was more than six foot tall, with muscles that made his grey Triple W Sisters uniform look as if it was going to burst. He held a walkie talkie in his left hand. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I’m meeting my Dad. Jerry Mumberson. He parks his car here.’

‘He’s not here. Hasn’t been here all day. I checked the list this morning.’

‘He was supposed to go and meet my mother. Out of town. But then he texted me half an hour ago. Look.’ He showed the man the text.

The man clipped his walkie talkie to his sleeve, and took the phone. ‘He doesn’t say meet him
inside
the gates. He says meet him at the gates. Can’t you read?’ He thrust the mobile back at Billy. Then, without warning, he grabbed him by the shoulders and said, ‘You’re trespassing. I’m taking you inside. We’ll see what the boss says.’

‘I’m not trespassing. My Dad’ll tell you.’

The man bent down into Billy’s face and sneered. ‘He’s not here to tell anyone anything, is he?’ He swivelled Billy around, and holding him firmly with both hands, pushed him between the parked cars towards the main building. ‘The boss’ll sort you out.’

Billy stumbled along in front of the man, unable to get away from his grip on his jacket. He slipped the cellphone back in his pocket, and tried to see where Olivia was, but the man forced his head forward. He hoped she’d run back to his house and tell his grandparents. They’d come and sort things out if he was in trouble. He hoped.

The guard hustled him up the three broad stone steps at the front of the building. When Billy stumbled on one, the guard hauled him up again and propelled him through the large glass revolving door towards a woman standing in the foyer. ‘I found him, Ms Nordal,’ he said to her.

The woman wore a smart dark trouser suit with the Triple W Sisters logo embroidered on the left lapel. Her hair was long and black, held in place by a large hairpin that twinkled in the light from the candelabra above her
.
But the ring on her finger sparkled even more. It had an enormous cluster of white stones. She stared coldly at Billy, without any surprise, as if she was expecting him.

‘Hold him tight, Lavitch,’ she said. ‘I don’t want him escaping.’ She strolled around Billy, inspecting him. ‘Who’d have thought?’ she said. ‘A lanky eleven-year-old: the solution to all our problems. Not much of a specimen. I wonder if there’s even enough blood in him.’ She poked Billy in the arm, and then nodded at the guard. ‘Take him through. Don’t let him get away.’

Billy didn’t like that mention of the word
blood
at all. He wriggled, trying to free himself. ‘What are you doing? I came to meet my Dad!’ The guard, holding him tight, as ordered, launched him forward. Neither he nor the woman said anything more. They moved quickly along a corridor between darkened offices. Neon lights above them buzzed and hummed. They pushed through a door marked
Staff Only
, into an area that hadn’t been modernised. Billy kept protesting as they headed down a flight of polished wooden steps, but the two adults ignored him.

There was no one else in this part of the building, because the evening shift worked in the Extension, behind the old mansion. All the old doors down here were heavily padlocked. It was warm, almost too warm, and Billy felt sticky.

The woman pushed open a door at the end of the corridor, marked
Sick Bay.
The room was brightly lit. A narrow hospital bed with wheels stood in the centre. A sheet was folded over it, and tucked in, and a flat pillow lay at one end. Two monitors on one wall both ran the same lazy screensaver, and opposite them a dozen squat cupboards, some of them open, revealed bottles, and pads, and other medical things Billy didn’t recognise.

A man in a loose-fitting white coat was standing at a basin in one corner, washing his hands. He had his back to Billy. Above the basin a large skylight that was divided into three sections revealed the late afternoon sky. Next to the basin a door with a glass panel in it opened out onto rough stone steps leading to the ground above. There was a key with a green tag in the lock.

Billy shivered, in spite of being so warm. He didn’t like this at all.

The man at the basin turned around, and Billy recognised him as the barber who’d cut his hair yesterday. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, more puzzled than ever. The man said nothing. Ms Nordal snarled at him, ‘Get on with it, Slaggard.’

Slaggard pushed a trolley towards the bed. On it was a metal kidney-shaped bowl containing a syringe with a large needle, a plastic bag and two tubes.

‘Get the boy up on the bed,’ said the woman. The guard tossed Billy on the bed as though he weighed nothing at all.

‘What are you doing?’ Billy shouted. ‘Where’s my Dad?’ The guard clamped one hand over his mouth, so that Billy could only make muffled noises, and held him down with the other. Billy kept on trying to shout and wriggle because he didn’t want to give in to whatever it was they were planning.

Slaggard pulled up Billy’s sleeve and tied a tourniquet tightly around his arm. He swabbed Billy’s inner elbow with a cleanser.

‘Matchstick arms,’ said the woman, with a sneer. She stood with her arms folded until her cellphone suddenly beeped. ‘
What
?’ she snapped into the phone, then listened briefly. ‘No, I’m right in the middle of it.’ The caller said something else before Ms Nordal thrust the phone back in her pocket. ‘I need to meet my sisters upstairs.’ She walked to the door. ‘As always, there’s some crisis they can’t handle without me. Make sure you do the job thoroughly,’ she said to the two men, before slamming the door behind her.

Slaggard told Lavitch to hold Billy’s arm down so that he could get the needle safely into the vein. ‘He’ll move too much otherwise,’ he said. Billy wriggled anyway. ‘Hold him still!’ he added to the guard, who growled that he
was
holding him still.

Billy felt as though he was being pressed deeper and deeper into the bed. Worse, he was beginning to feel sick at the thought of having blood taken. He didn’t know whether to try and fight them further - which was difficult - or let them get on with it. He hoped he wouldn’t pass out.

Slaggard pressed on Billy’s arm to check for the vein, prior to pushing the needle in. As he was doing it, Billy caught sight of a shadow flitting past the skylight. Neither of the adults noticed. The shadow moved again, then gave an ear-splitting scream.

Billy jumped in spite of all Lavitch’s efforts to hold him. The two men, surprised and distracted by the noise, looked round in confusion.

A brick came crashing through one of the panes of glass. Billy heard Olivia shout, ‘Run, Billy!’

The glass shattered everywhere. The men ducked to avoid it. Slaggard banged into the trolley, and the syringe and tubes went flying as the metal dish bounced onto the floor with a clang. Lavitch let go of Billy as shards of glass fell around him.

Billy leapt off the bed, the tourniquet still tight around his arm. He ran for the door, yanked it open, and raced towards the stairs. He didn’t have time to look behind him, but kept on sprinting along the corridor, up the steps and through the
Staff Only
exit. He sped towards the revolving doors, hoping he wouldn’t meet Ms Nordal. He could hear Lavitch’s boots stomping along behind him. Very fast.

It’s hard to run into the space in a revolving door, but if anyone can manage it, it’s a desperate boy. He leapt into the opening, gave the door a push, and leapt out again.

Lavitch was seconds behind him. The door continued revolving as he tried to enter it. What a skinny boy can do in the blink of an eye, a hulking great man can’t. Getting yourself stuck in a revolving door as it swishes past you is very uncomfortable. First Lavitch banged his head on the oak doorframe. Then his arm got stuck. The door jammed and he couldn’t move it one way or the other.

Billy raced down the drive towards the gates. A security guard who hadn’t been on duty when Billy arrived was supervising the automatic shutting of the gates after letting a car through. Billy put on his best burst of speed and managed to shoot through the gap before it closed. The guard shouted something rude at him.

Billy stopped outside the wall. He couldn’t see Olivia anywhere. Was she still inside, or had she got out before him? He had no idea what to do. He stood against the wall for a few moments, getting his breath back, then peeked through the grill in the gates.

Lavitch had managed to get himself unstuck, and was rubbing his bruised arm vigorously. He didn’t look like a happy person at the best of times; now he was exceedingly grumpy. He went back inside, presumably to report to the dark-haired woman.

Billy was still peering through the grill when Olivia appeared beside him. He jumped out of his skin and banged his head on the gate. ‘Where did you come from?’

‘You mean, thanks for saving your life, don’t you?’

‘Thanks very much. But how did you get out here?’

‘We need to move. I’ll tell you at home.’ They began to run. As he ran, Billy undid the clasp on the tourniquet and tore it off his arm. He dropped it in the street. Suddenly Olivia wasn’t running beside him. She’d stopped to pick it up.

‘What are you doing?’ he cried.

‘We don’t want to leave a trail for them, do we?’ She put it in her pocket. ‘Anyway, we need evidence for the police.’