Mr Hook's Big Black Box

Marco Schmidt: Closing In

Nigel wasn't in the room, that was a change. And for once the door was actually locked, so a minute after we'd arrived my classmates were starting to form a crowd in the corridor. The carpet down here was a deep navy blue, the super short pile stuff that has the texture of a scouring pad. There were a couple of sofas down the side of the corridor, strange things that felt more like upholstered blocks of packing foam. People could sit down while they were waiting for the seminar room to open, but each sofa was on its own, so there was nowhere convenient for a whole group of friends to sit together. In just a few minutes, half of the class was sitting on the window ledges or standing around in small knots of a dozen people, taking up just enough space to prevent other people from walking past down the corridor. As more students arrived, unless Nigel was here soon to open the door, people would be joining the smokers outside in the courtyard, ready to surge inside in a solid logjam when the room was open.

Then I glanced out of the window, and saw a face I recognised. And not a face that should have been in this group. I probably wouldn't have picked most people out of a crowd if I'd only seen them once before, but this guy stood out. Mainly because of a livid scar that went across his nose and right down across his mouth to his neck. I couldn't even begin to guess what might have caused it, but there was no way there were two skinheads with identical scars and ginger stubble in this town. He'd been part of the crowd of dumb muscle loitering in the yard at Spenser's depot, so he was allied with the fake CIA. An enemy.

I froze when I saw him. Then I grabbed Cassie's hand and started walking towards the next door along. I didn't want to pass the guy once I was outside, I didn't know how easily he'd recognise me.

"Come on, we've got another appointment." I didn't want to explain further, in front of my friends and classmates.

"Wait, what? I need to see Hawthorne, you said you could –"

"See that guy?" I pointed as quickly as I could, just hoping the guy wouldn't see.

"Redbeard?" she said, "He was at the meeting too. He was on the experiment committee, maybe we can ask him instead, then we won't–"

"No," I interrupted, "That guy and his friends tried to kill me earlier today. He's dangerous, and I don't want to be anywhere near him if I can help it. Some big organised crime thing, I think." I could probably have said more, but I didn't know for sure what Spenser's deal was. And I was quite aware that even the things I thought I knew could easily be wrong.

"That's crazy. I thought I was nuts for worrying about Mira, but this is even more..." She started speaking, but the constant babble slowed down and faded away. She'd probably realised that what I was telling her and what she'd already said to me were only on the same level of unbelievability, and that if she was really worried about her friend she should probably put more value on my instincts.

"Come on," I said, "I'm leaving now. I can always phone Nigel later, I've got his office number. That's probably better than trying to drag him aside during a seminar." She pouted, one hand on her hips in a transparent gesture clearly calculated to encourage weak-willed guys to do what she wanted. That kind of behaviour just made me hate her more, but still not enough to put her in the line of fire when we were facing Spenser and his black-clad soldiers.

"I don't know what to think," she mumbled, "Look, you can sort this out, right? If you got a time to meet Hawthorne, give me a text. I'll meet you then." She scrawled her number on a piece of paper and thrust it into my hand. I nodded, mumbled a vague promise, and continued heading for the door.

In a way I was glad to be rid of her. I was glad she was safe, too. This was our problem, however we'd got lumbered with it, and I didn't want anyone else to be in danger because of me. It wasn't until I was halfway across the courtyard that I realised she hadn't come out after me. Letting her do her own thing until I'd got in touch with Nigel, that made sense. Her being in the building when Redbeard was coming in, that made me worry. I almost headed back to tell her again not to wait around for Nigel.

Then I heard the shots.