Payback
Authors: Graham Marks
Also by Graham Marks:
Radio Radio
How it Works
Zoo
Tokyo
Snatched!
Omega Place
Kai-ro
Takedown
Faultline
Strange Hiding Place
I Spy: The Constantinople Caper
Mean Streets: The Chicago Caper
Playing with Phyre
Bad Day
This ebook edition published in 2012
Franklin Watts
338 Euston Road
London NW1 3BH
Franklin Watts Australia
Level 17/207 Kent Street
Sydney, NSW 2000
The author has asserted his right in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved
A CIP catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library.
donatas1205/Shutterstock: front cover bg.
Olivier Lantzendörffer/istockphoto: front cover t
pne/Shutterstock: front cover c.
vectomart/Shutterstock: front cover b.
ISBN: 978 1 4451 1443 9
Franklin Watts is a division of
Hachette Children’s Books,
an Hachette UK company.
“When you get something for nothing,
you just haven’t been billed for it yet.”
Franklin P. Jones
If you liked this, you’ll love…
When Greg finally got himself up, everyone was out — his mum’s scrawled note on the fridge said they’d “GONE 2 TESCO”. That was odd because his mum usually did the shop on a Friday, and his dad liked to read his paper on a Saturday morning. And they must have taken his little sister with them. Also odd, as she only liked going clothes shopping.
A quick check showed there was nothing much to eat in the kitchen. A more thorough search of the house came up with enough spare change for a fry-up at the cafe. Result!
Greg was on the bus before he realised he’d left his phone at home. It was up in his bedroom and still on charge.
Then the bus broke down, so he had to walk the rest of the way into town. And as these things always came in threes, he saw Barry Telford on the prowl and had to take a major detour. Bazz was someone even the plague would try to avoid.
The safer route to town was via various scuzzy backstreets and a passageway, which was more of a dog toilet. It took ages. So when Greg finally got back on track, his stomach was grumbling like crazy and his mouth watering at the thought of egg, bacon and chips.
He was about to cross the road when it felt like someone tapped him on the shoulder with a brick.
“Oi…Greg, innit?”
Greg looked round to see Bazz standing behind him, chewing gum with his mouth open, and lost his appetite.
“Gotta fag?”
“I don’t smoke, Bazz.”
“Lend us the money for one, then.” Bazz put his hand out and wiggled fingers that were like sausages. It was his way of saying “Or else”.
Greg had never heard of anyone saying no to Bazz and getting away with it. Which is why, without any money, Greg was now in the park — on his own and hungrier than ever. If he didn’t think of somewhere to go where his friends might be, he’d end up wasting the whole morning.
He was hurrying down the path that led to the park gate, on his way to try his luck in town, when he saw a glint of light flash off something on one of the benches. Slowing down, Greg walked over and stared down at what looked to be a brand new, very expensive mobile phone.
Greg looked round, trying to find the person who’d left the phone on the bench, but there was no one in sight. He was completely on his own, and right at that moment he realised that he couldn’t hear a sound. There was absolute silence. No cars. No birds. It was like everything had just stopped.
A shiver ran down Greg’s spine.
For some reason he remembered a movie he’d seen about the last man left alive, and it made him feel totally spooked. Then he looked back at the bench, half expecting to see the phone had gone, or that it was actually something entirely different. But it was still there, if anything even shinier than it had been.
Checking all around again, and once again seeing nobody, Greg sat down on the bench. The phone was easily within arm’s reach.
It
had
to be a set-up. As soon as he touched the phone someone would burst out of a nearby bush and accuse him of stealing it. Or reveal that he was being filmed for some rubbish TV show. But then what if someone
had
just left it behind by accident?
Greg leant sideways and peered down at the phone, looking at it closely for the first time. It was, he now realised, actually just a thin oblong of mobile-sized black plastic, or maybe glass. It probably wasn’t a phone at all. He shook his head, reached out and picked it up.
Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t made of plastic. The thing felt heavy for its size, and quite cold. Greg turned it over in his hands. He examined it from every angle to see if there was anything on the surface that would give him a clue as to what it was.
Nothing.
Not a mark. No brand name, no “on” button or headphone socket, nothing that looked like a way to open it up to change the battery or the SIM card.
He was about to put the object back on the bench and get on his way, when he felt something. It was as if what he was holding had…well, there was only one way to describe it: it was as though the object had woken up.
Greg stared at the black glass oblong in his hand, noticing for the first time that there were no finger marks anywhere on it…and that it should’ve been reflecting his face, but wasn’t.
Then, right there in front of him, he saw a small part of the surface at the end nearest to him sink inwards to create a perfectly circular dip. It was about the size of a 5p coin, and it just cried out to be touched.
While Greg’s mind tried to work out what to do next, his hand had no doubts. He watched as it moved towards the device, as though his fingers were remote controlled. And it didn’t feel like his finger as it slowly, gently touched the dip in the polished black device.
“Hello,” said a voice. “Good to meet you, Gregory…”
Greg jumped up, like he’d been stung by a wasp, and glanced behind him. But there was no one there.
“Who?” he frowned. “Where?”
“You called,” said the voice.
Greg froze. The voice was coming from the-thing-that-wasn’t-a-phone, which he was still holding. He looked down at it to find that the black glass surface now looked like there was a drawing of an old-fashioned scythe etched into it.
“Not me…I didn’t call anyone,” Greg said. “Who are you — and how do you know my name?”
“I do apologise, how rude of me! I’m Michael, but as we are going to be working together, you can call me Mike.”
“Working together?” Greg looked round to see if there was anyone who might’ve heard him shouting. There wasn’t. “What do you mean? I don’t want a job – I’m at school!”
“Why don’t you have a sit down?”
Mike’s voice was very clear, making Greg feel like he was actually standing right next to him. Confused, he did as he’d been asked and sat back down on the bench.
“What’s going on?” Greg tried to put the phone down and realised he couldn’t. Because his arm wouldn’t move.
“You’ve been chosen,” said Mike.
“Who by? For what?”
“Questions, questions!” Mike’s voice sounded like he was smiling. “You have been chosen by Fate, or quite possibly it might be Chance, although it may very well have been Luck. One or the other of those, anyway. And you have been chosen to be a Watcher.”
“But I don’t want to be a Watcher, whatever that is!”
“I’m afraid it’s not your decision, Greg. The person who had the job before you came to the end of his contract, so to speak – by which I mean he died – and the device was left here to see who would pick it up. You did. And so congratulations! The job is yours – unless, of course, someone else chooses to take it from you.”
Greg opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say, so he closed it and slumped against the back of the bench. This was not how he’d planned to spend his Saturday afternoon, sitting on a park bench talking to someone who wasn’t there when he should be off with his mates having fun!
“Don’t you want to know what you have to do?”
“No!” Greg stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and glowered at the world. And then he sat up straight and slowly took his right hand out. It was no longer holding the phone!
In a split second Greg was on his feet, tearing at his jacket which would not come off – no matter how hard he tried. He was about to have another go when he saw a woman with a buggy. She’d stopped a few metres down the path and was staring at him like he was mad.
“I thought I felt something.” Greg made like he was brushing stuff off himself. “You know, like insects?”
The woman hurried past him without saying a word and disappeared out of the park.
“This is a job for life, Greg. Didn’t I say that?”
“Why me?” Greg kicked the bench, then he kicked an empty cola can, and finally he picked up a large stone and randomly hurled it. “What did I do?”
“You were curious,” said Mike. “And you were, like a jackdaw, attracted to the shiny and the bright.”
“And now I always have to have this…” Greg gestured at his jacket pocket, “…with me?”
“Forever. Yes. Yes, you do.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“That’s not an answer!” Although he couldn’t help feeling freaked out, Greg was also angry. He hated being told what to do, especially for no good reason. “Tell me what this is all about – now!”
“Very well.” Mike, it was obvious, was not smiling any more. His voice had turned cold and steely. “I am one of the Reapers, a Collector of Souls, here since the birth of Life itself. We have never been able to be everywhere and have always needed human Watchers. They are our eyes in every corner of the Earth. You, Gregory, are now a part of an ancient and noble family.”
“I’m already part of a family, I don’t need another one – especially not a noble and ancient one, thanks very much!” Greg hissed, aware that he could now see more people in the park, and was in danger of being found talking to himself. “And what are you on about? What’s a Reaper, and what does all that watching stuff actually mean? What do I have to do – and if this is a job, right, what do I get paid?”
“You are merely a conduit, a channel through which I see, that is all. You do not have to do anything. Through you I see who is ready to leave this life and move on, so I can be there. To help,” Mike said, sounding quite enthusiastic. “And the job is its own reward, young man.”
“I’ll see people who are about to die?”
“Well, they are everywhere you look.”
Greg was, once more, lost for words. Today – which had started as simply an odd day – had just got weirder and stranger and crazier by the minute. And now he was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t actually gone mad, because how could any of this be true?
