Robin Jarvis-Jax 02 Freax And Rejex (12 page)

“Yes,” she said, collecting herself and working with the traces of Kate that remained. “The report, what I need – what
it
needs – is to see some ‘afters’. These dumb kids are the ‘befores’. This piece won’t pack any punch unless we get to see them after the sacred text has opened their eyes. That’s the pay-off, that’s what’ll resonate and make Americans sit up and realise the awesome benefits of your great work. They’re suckers for happy endings. If they can see these kids get turned around from surly aberrants to overjoyed at discovering who they really are, that’d clinch it.”

The Ismus listened attentively. She was right and he needed to stall the US, to keep them from taking action for a little while longer.

“I agree,” he said. “I promise you shall have your ‘afters’. But not tomorrow. Spend that day up in London. Film in the hospitals, nursing homes, the day centres with the disabled. I can arrange for you to visit a prison to see how reformed the inmates have become. Return here on Sunday and you shall have a whole merry bunch of children anxious to tell the world of their newfound joy.”

She thanked him profusely and hurried out to join Sam in the car. Jangler came over to join his master.

“Can you really turn those children?” he asked. “I thought it was impossible. That was never the reason they were gathered here – or why the other centres around the world will be needed.”

“Oh, yes,” the Ismus said. “It’s possible. But it isn’t a simple matter. I shall have to call on aid, as I did back in 1936. The night I ‘disappeared’.”

“That is most dangerous!” the old man cried.

“As I said, I do not baulk at risks. It will be uncomfortable certainly, but necessary. We are so close to achieving our goal. I cannot turn back now. Whatever Miss Kryzewski asks for, she gets. That is why I invited her. She
is the key to America. Her report will unlock it for me.”

“How many children will you give?”

“That is impossible to answer. The power I call upon is… very difficult to control. It will be like using a battering ram to gain entry to their minds. I must be careful not to cause too much damage within. Their young heads exploding would not make good footage, especially in high definition.”

Jangler chuckled at the prospect then became serious.

“As long as you do not place yourself in danger, my Lord,” he said.

“If I had never placed myself in danger, I would never have heard the voice of the Dawn Prince Himself, uttering my name.”

“I cannot even dare hope I shall one day hear Him – or look upon His great Majesty.”

The Ismus smiled. “What we do here, Jangler,” he said, “will bring that glorious day ever closer.”

The old man puffed out his chest proudly. “And the Lady Labella?” he asked. “Might I enquire after her health?”

“She is blooming, Jangler, blooming!”

“Most highly favoured Lady! That is gratifying news, my Lord.”

The Ismus held up his hand. “But we run ahead of ourselves!” he told him. “Tonight our little aberrant rabbits must earn their carrots. That is the primary reason they are here.”

Outside in the compound, a chorus of car doors and engines started. The Jacks and Jills each had a black or red BMW waiting and were driven off to the nearest five-star country hotel. The vehicles outside the camp followed them up the forest road.

Jody sat on the step outside her chalet and watched the headlights sweep over the trees and disappear in the distance. The kids inside were waiting to brush their teeth before bed, but Charm was hogging the bathroom. Most of them, including Christina, were fast asleep long before she emerged. It had been a long, exhausting and stressful day.

In Alasdair’s cabin the boys had crowded round the sink together and were already under the crinkly linen of the brand-new duvets. The Scottish lad strummed his guitar in the semi-darkness for a time, lulling them to sleep with gentle tunes.

It was different and more rowdy in Lee and Marcus’s hut. The boys there were older and, though tired, no one was going to be the first to admit he wanted to go to sleep. Jim was lying on his bed, rereading one of his favourite issues of
X-Men
, admiring the artistry and imagination all over again.

Spencer was engrossed in his portable media player, watching a Western. He was heavily into cowboy movies; they were as removed from the world of Mooncaster and his own unhappy, timid life as he could imagine.

Living in Southport, he had taken to roaming the seemingly endless tracts of beach and sand dunes there, pretending he was thousands of miles away, in the Nevada Desert. With classic cowboy soundtracks playing in his earphones, he would mosey on down the trail, tracking coyotes or outlaws, and practise sharpshooting with his two-finger Colt 45. Jackrabbits fled at the jingle of his spurs and the towering cacti of his mindscape were riddled with his quick-draw lead. Immersing himself in the fantasy of a lone, silent lawman, as the world around him went haywire, was the only way he had kept sane. He had even bought a Stetson off eBay and, when he was sure no one was around, would wear it on those solitary walks. Everyone had their own way of coping. That was his. He had brought his hat along this weekend as a reassuring talisman. He wasn’t going to unpack it. As long as it was with him, in the bag, that was enough.

The three other boys, Mason, Drew and Nicholas, wanted to play on the cabin’s games console, but Marcus had possession of the TV remote and was flicking through the Freeview channels.

“Nothing but crap on nowadays,” he grumbled, hopping from station to station. “
DJ
gets everywhere. They’ve tarted up the Rover’s Return to be an old inn and the street is pretending to be that village – they’ve thatched all the houses! Ken Barlow looks a right knob in tights. You can’t even
get
Friends
any more – you think Joey looks like me? Girls have said… Hey, we made the news! This place is on the TV. That’s today, when we first got here – and there’s that Charm bird all over the Ismus bloke. Talk about sucking up! Look at her! I’m still going to get in her pants though. More blah de blah from him, what else is on? How about this –
Celebrity Minchetchef
? There’s no way anyone can make that vomit taste good, no matter how many chunky chips you stack next to it like Jenga.
My Big Fat Jaxy Wedding
, nope. Home shopping – get your cloaks, leather tunics and pointy shoes here,
Have I Got Jax For You
?… Oh, look, here’s the black and white Nazi channel. At least that never changes. All they ever show on there is ancient stuff about Hitler. Who watches that?”

“You should, Ladies’ Man,” Lee said as he walked by. “You really got no idea what’s going down here.”

“What is it with you?” Marcus demanded, infuriated by the lad’s attitude. “You’ve been on my case since we got here. Just what is your problem?”

“We all got the same problem,” Lee told him. “But some of us is too blind or too dumb to see it yet. You think we’re here to get our caps twisted? No way.” He put a cigarette in his mouth and pushed against the door. “I’ll take this one outside,” he said as he left. “Wouldn’t want you to choke in the night, Lily-lungs.”

“Jerk,” Marcus muttered when he was gone.

He glanced up at the mezzanine and took the opportunity to dash up and open the small window to let in some fresh air. Then he picked up his carefully folded clothes, sniffed them for smoke and checked for burns. Downstairs three boys leaped on the games console and were soon hunting flesh-eating zombies and blasting heads and legs off with sub-machine guns. They were glad that games based on
Dancing Jax
were still only at the development stage. This was what they wanted.

With the unlit cigarette still hanging on his lip, Lee strolled in front of the cabins.

“Hi,” Jody greeted him, looking up from the step. “How’s it going
with…?” But he ignored her and continued walking.

The girl shrugged with indifference and put her chin on her knees. She had grown to accept being as noticeable as wallpaper and it only proved her earlier decision with Christina had been the right one.

“No point trying to make friends here,” she told herself. “Other people only ever let you down.”

Lee sauntered round the corner out of sight. The main block was before him. When he was certain no one was about, he ran across to it, veering sideways when he heard voices approaching, and crouched in the shadows.

The Ismus came striding out, followed by his bodyguards and Jangler. The men crossed to where the SUV was parked and Jangler waved them off with a flourish of his hand.

“Till the morrow, my Lord!” he called, bowing as low as his portly figure allowed.

The SUV drove through the gates and rumbled up the forest road. Jangler returned to the main block, took a hoop of keys from his belt and locked the doors.

Concealed in the darkness, Lee waited till the old man had finished, then watched him head towards the cabins.

Jody was still huddled on the step when Jangler came ambling by. He touched the brim of his floppy hat in salutation and wished her a good night.

“Are you staying here?” she asked in surprise.

He paused and a strange, unpleasant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Where else should the Lockpick be but on guard?” he replied. “You young people need someone to watch over you.”

“You make us sound like prisoners.”

“Prisoners?” he repeated, making a staccato noise like a cross between a cough and a laugh. “Here, in these luxury holiday chalets, with all this beautiful scenery and invigorating fresh air around you? Tut tut, what an overactive imagination.”

“Shame I can’t apply it to
Dancing Jax
though, huh?”

“Oho,” he said. The old man inclined his head and touched his hat once more. “Sweet dreams,” he added.

Jody jerked her head aside. “Fat chance,” she huffed. “Been nothing but bad ones since this started.”

Jangler’s eyebrows lifted and the moustache jiggled on his lip. “How… distressing,” he murmured. “We must see what we can do about that, mustn’t we?”

Then he clicked his heels together, an action he immediately regretted because his feet were still suffering in those shoes, and continued on his way.

Something about the way he spoke those last words made Jody’s skin creep. Her eyes followed him till he reached the cabin at the other end. She wondered who, if anyone, was going to occupy the empty one next to it.

Jangler hesitated before entering. He turned his gaze towards the night-shrouded forest that surrounded the camp and chuckled to himself, knowing what was lurking out there. He gave another chuckle when he anticipated what would happen later, when everyone was asleep, and let himself in.

Lee circled the main block, testing each window he came across. Finally he found one that had been left open. He climbed inside and took a slim torch from the pocket of his trackie bottoms. He was in the lecture room, where the press conference had been held earlier that day, and where Sam, the cameraman, had later been lured by the Ismus, so the Black Face Dames could hold him down and force minchet into his mouth.

Lee shone the torchlight around; there was nothing in here, nothing he could use. As silently as possible, he made his way into the next room. It was the dining hall. The tables had been cleared, but the model of the castle still dominated the centre.

The boy curled his lip at it then made his way to the kitchen.

In there the torchlight bounced over the brushed steel surfaces and sparkled in the utensils hanging on the wall. Lee wasted no time. He pulled open every cupboard, searched in every drawer. Then he rushed to another door and yanked it open. Behind was a well-stocked storeroom, crammed
from floor to ceiling with catering-sized tins and packets of dry goods. None of it was Mooncaster fare.

“Sweet!” he whispered as the torch beam revealed the treasures on the shelves.

He frowned when he realised he should have brought his holdall. He couldn’t carry more than two of those great tins at a time without it. Looking around, he saw, tucked under the lowest shelf, a collection of empty Tupperware containers.

“Hallelujah!” he muttered, smiling.

Taking the biggest, he put a bag of pasta and two bags of rice inside. Then he filled up the remaining space with packets of dried fruit and one of sugar. Sealing the lid back on and pocketing the torch, he carried the box through to the kitchen.

“I’ll be back for the rest of you foxy bitches,” he addressed the darkness of the storeroom.

It wasn’t long before he was climbing back out of the window. Kneeling on the ground outside, he waited till he was sure the coast was clear. Then, lugging the container, he darted over the lawn behind the main block – towards the forbidding expanse of night-smothered trees.

Lee wasn’t afraid of the deep gloom, but he almost choked at the rank smell that hit his nostrils as he pressed deeper into the wood. Was there a stagnant ditch close by? Hailing from an estate in South London, he wasn’t overly familiar with the countryside. Did it always stink like this? It was stronger than the drains in July.

Although he tried to move as silently as possible, the leaves of the previous autumn crunched as noisily as crisps and cornflakes under his trainers and twigs snapped even louder. When he had gone a short distance, he stopped and took out his torch again. He had to find something distinctive, something he would recognise again. Ahead he saw a fat tree. He had no idea what sort, but its bottommost branches spread out like two arms and the gnarled bark of the trunk suggested a face with puckered lips. It reminded him of a girl he had known in the days before the book. Yes, that would do.

He deposited the box at its base and hunted around for twigs and bracken to use as camouflage. As he collected it, the sensation he was being watched began to grow in his mind and the putrid smell of decay became stronger.

Unnerved, Lee looked around. It was too dark to see; the black shadows concealed everything and he hesitated to switch the torch on again.

“That you, pussy boy?” he murmured, thinking Marcus had followed him. “Don’t you try no tricks on me.”