I felt my tail droop, knew the baboons would notice, would register the tell-tale sign of worry. This was all wrong. Thuto was supposed to help the Professor, but now he was out there, talking to that man Jempson. I had to get to Thuto, make sure he stayed on our side.
I clawed at the handle, but couldn’t get it open. In frustration, I clawed at the doors, trying to dig my way through, even though I knew it couldn’t be done.
Thuto shouted at me from the other side. He opened the door a crack, shouted in my face, but I took my chance and slithered through, just as he slammed it shut behind me. Now I was stuck out here. That was stupid. Stupid.
I blinked in the bright sunlight, my eyes searching for the Professor. There was no sign of him, but the black cars were still there on the drive, surrounded by Jempson’s men. They were all dressed the same, all in black, looking mean.
Down the drive, beyond the gates, a crowd of people chanted, placards in the air, while a line of police held them back. From the roof, the sound of singing and drumming tumbled down the walls of the old building.
Jempson stood with his arms folded, his weight balanced on legs spread wide, and braced ready to move. His head was back, lifted high, his shoulders broad. He was calm, confident, ready for action if needed. “So you’re Wainwright’s little pet project, are you?” Jempson said. His voice was a sneer, insinuating he was top of the pack, and not to be questioned. But I wasn’t afraid of him. He wanted to impress Thuto, so he would have to talk, not try to seize hold of me. And there were all those people over there, police and protestors. I was gambling he wouldn’t dare use his gun, not in front of all those people.
“What have you done with the Professor? We want to see him, don’t we Thuto?” I looked at the monkey, staring hard at him. He was supposed to agree, but he looked the other way, said nothing.
“The Professor is no longer in charge of this project. I’m taking over,” Jempson said. “We’re taking you all to a new home.”
“Where?” Thuto said.
“Why?” I asked, “and where’s the Professor.”
“We’re training you,” Jempson said, looking at Thuto. “You’ve been doing nothing here. We’ll teach you to fight. Turn you into soldiers. Make warriors out of you.”
“You give us guns?” Thuto asked. His face had perked up, and he stood taller, more alert, more excited.
“Thuto, don’t listen to him,” I said. “We’re fine here.”
“You’re locked up here,” Jempson said. “I’ll let you out, give you work to do. You’ll follow orders, my orders, but we’ll make proper soldiers out of you.”
“Orders?” Thuto said. He rolled the word around in his mouth, tumbling it in his mind. He didn’t take orders. He gave them.
“You’ll get guns,” Jempson said, a sly smile on his face. “You’ll be in charge, Thuto. Working for me. But you’ll be charge.”
“What’ll you have them doing?” I said.
Jempson ignored me. Thuto looked lost in thought. Dreaming about guns.
“Well, what do you say?” Jempson said.
“We’ll consider it,” Thuto said.
“Don’t trust him,” I said, then turned to Jempson. “Where’s the Professor?”
“Come and see,” he said. “We won’t hurt you.” His voice seemed to hold the words at arm’s length, as though that would make the lie less obvious.
