Part Two, Chapter Sixteen

"No way," says Lynch flatly. "You can't. It's too dangerous."

"Listen," I insist. "Hear me out at least."

"No." Lynch shakes her head. "You listen. I'm grateful for everything you've done, but you have to understand that this . . . this isn't a game. This is real. If you came with me you'd be putting yourself in the worst danger you could possibly put yourself in. I mean, there are men out there who want to kill me, maybe torture me first. Do you understand that? Really?" She's talking quickly, and from the breaking note in her voice I can tell she's close to tears. I reach out and take her hands.

"I know there's danger. But . . ." I try and marshal my thoughts, try to pull some sense from the mess of feelings in my heart. "But I have to. I'm involved now. For you. And for Darren. I . . . I have to see this through."

"I'm on the run, Laura," says Lynch despairingly. "Wherever I'm going it's not going to be pleasant. Why would you do that to yourself? You have a life here. You're safe. You have family. Why . . . I don't . . ."

And then she is crying, the sounds of her sobs small and muffled in the large space of the empty library.

"Listen," I say. "That's not all. I have an idea, something I think we should do. Something I think we have to do. If we want to help Darren and all the others. If we want to stop Ingleman."

At Ingleman's name Lynch twitches tightly. She wipes quickly at her face and makes a visible effort to stop her tears. "What?" she asks.

"We have to tell people," I say. "We have to write it down. All of it. Everything you know. And we have to make sure it gets out. Ingleman's powerful, right? But he's not above the law. Nobody is. All we have to do is draw attention to him. This Academy of his, it's such a big operation. He won't be able to keep it hidden if people are looking for it. But nobody's looking. Nobody suspects him. Nobody questions his cover story, his version of events. Not yet, anyway. We have to make it public. We have to."

Once I've finished talking Lynch just sits there for a minute looking at me in astonishment. "Well," I say. "What do you think?"

She frowns for a minute, looking uncertain, then nods. "All right," she says grudgingly.

"All right," I say, and my heart does a flip and I swallow dry. "Let's get to work."

Part Two, Chapter Fifteen

Just as she said, Mari runs up a pretty convincing Student ID on the library card printer. By the time she's finished it looks exactly like mine. With a quiet but genuine "thanks" Lynch slips the ID into the side pocket of a small canvas purse Mari found for her in the Lost Property box. Closing time has gone by now, and we can finally come out of the back room and stretch our legs. It's just us and Mari in the library. It feels so surreal. It feels as if I've stepped right outside of everything I've ever known.

"Right," says Mari. "I'm going to go get your ticket now. It'll look suspicious if I come back to the library after hours, so I'll order it and have it ready to pick up at the machine at the station. You'll just need the reference number, which I'll text to you, Laura. You can leave out of the fire exit when morning comes; I've switched off the alarm."

"Right," I say, trying to sound casual. "No problem."

Mari turns to Lynch. We're in the lobby of the library, behind the desk. It's dark, but I can still see that Mari's expression is intent. She reaches into her purse and presses a fold of notes into Lynch's hand. "You'll need money," she says, and when Lynch immediately starts to protest at the amount, she adds forcefully, "Just take it. You'll be grateful of it later on."

"Thank you," says Lynch, sounding abashed. She adds the notes to the side pocket of her bag.

"Well," says Mari, and lets out a long breath. "You must call me when you get home Laura, just to let me know it all went okay."

"I will. Promise." Mari hugs me again and then, more tentatively, Lynch as well. The girl looks a little uncomfortable, but pleased, as if she isn't used to human touch. Then Mari heads for the door to the library. Just before she goes she turns one last time and waves. The expression on her face is carefully set, and in that moment I feel a powerful rush of gratitude for her, for everything she's done to help us, to save us. It's not something there's time for now, but I make a promise to myself to tell her someday just how much it has meant.

"Good luck," says Mari. "Be careful." And then she's gone. We hear the doors lock behind her.

Me and Lynch are alone in the vacant library. Outside, it is just beginning to get dark, the streetlights flickering on one by one. Lynch takes a few steps to one of the swivel chairs behind the desk and slumps down into it.

"I hope we can trust her," she says. She sounds tired.

"We can," I assure her. "I'd trust her with my life."

Lynch nods, biting her lip as if in thought. "She was  . . . kind," she says eventually.

I take the swivel chair opposite Lynch and draw myself up close to her. For a few hours now the germ of an idea has been burning in my brain, but I had to wait for Mari to go before I could discuss it with Lynch. Now the moment is here I feel a tiny grain of doubt. For a second, just a second, I actually want to go home. But then I remember that home without Darren is no longer the place it used to be.

I take a deep breath. "Listen, Lynch," I say. "I'm coming with you."

Part Two, Chapter Fourteen

Ten minutes later we're sat in one of the backrooms drinking cups of coffee. I've just finished telling Mari what I need, and there's a tense silence draped over the room. Lynch looks deeply uncomfortably, and is eyeing the door as though she plans to leap to her feet and run at any moment .

Mari takes a long drink of her coffee. "So you need a place to stay tonight?" she says carefully. I nod. Of course, I've only told her what she needs to know. That Lynch is running away from some bad people who mean her harm, and that she needs somewhere to stay for a night before she gets the first train out in the morning. And that we have to steer clear of the police.

"I promise, Mari, I wouldn't ask unless it was really important."

Mari looks searchingly at me, and then at Lynch. For the first time she addresses her directly. "You're that one the police are all out in force looking for, aren't you? The 'terrorist'?"

Lynch nods cautiously. "That's me."

Mari looks back at me. "And you're telling me that the police have got it wrong, yes? That Lynch is innocent?"

"Yes," I say. "But if they find her they won't even give her a chance. These people who she's running from, they're . . . well, they're powerful. They have a lot of influence."

Mari nods thoughtfully and then sits back in her chair. "This is a lot to take in for a Monday."

I start to apologise again, but Mari waves it away. She looks to Lynch again.

"Tell me," she says. "Is this true? Are you in danger? And the people you're running from; are they the bad guys in all this?"

Lynch looks directly at her with serious, sleepless eyes. "It's true," she says. "All of it."

For a moment Mari's expression is unreadable, and I feel my first real twinge of worry. What if she decides to call in the police anyway? But a second later Mari nods and gets to her feet.

"You can stay," she says. "But you'll need a ticket if you're getting the first train of the day. Some ID would help as well, and some decent clothes."

I'm elated that Mari's going to help us, but I control myself. One thing at a time, I tell myself. Don't let your guard down until it's over. "I can lend Lynch some of my clothes," I say, "But I don't know where to get ID from. Maybe . . . maybe she'll be okay without."

"It's okay," says Mari with a smile. "I'll whip you up a student card using the library card printer. That should get you on the train okay. Let me just grab my camera."

She moves to leave, but just as she's going I call out, "Mari," and she turns. I stand up. "Thank you for this. Thank you for helping."

The next thing I know Mari is hugging me tight against her shoulder. It's been a long time since anyone hugged me like this, like a mother, and for a moment I tight little ball in my throat and I'm tired and I want to go home and Mari whispers into my ear, "You're a good girl, Laura. This'll all turn out okay," and we just stand there holding each other for a long, long time.

Part Two, Chapter Thirteen

Lynch is at one of the computer terminals, frowning intently as she peruses what looks like a news site. As I sit down in the seat beside her she twitches and kills the monitor, then lets out a relieved breath when she sees it's only me. She's used the money I gave her to purchase a pair of cheap blue jeans and a woolly cap. Dressed in those along with my coat she looks almost normal.

"Oh, Laura." She frowns. "I thought you were at school."

"I was," I say. "Something's happened." And I tell her everything. As I speak her face slowly grows harder, more distant. I can tell it's the kind of news she's been dreading.

Once I've finished she gets abruptly to her feet. "I've got to go," she says.

"Go?" I stand up too. "Go where? And how?"

Lynch shrugs. "I'll get a train. Go north, as far as I can. Get away from here, away from the search." She squeezes her eyes tight shut and rubs at them tiredly. "I should have gone as soon as I got ashore. Shouldn't have hung around. Ugh. Can you show me the way to the train station?"

"Of course," I say, but then I'm struck by an idea. "But not yet. There's too many police officers out there looking for you at the moment. You'd be seen."

Lynch regards me for a second, then nods and slumps back down to the seat. "When then?"

"Tomorrow morning," I say. "We'll get the first train of the day. Six AM. There won't be anyone out at that hour."

"Tomorrow?" says Lynch. Her voice is low but urgent. "Tomorrow's no good, Laura. They're out there looking for me right now. They're out there looking for me and when they find me they're going to take me back and Ingleman's going to kill me. You understand? I've been wandering around town for two days now. People are going to remember seeing a girl in coveralls with shaved head. I've got to go. Now."

"Wait," I say. "Please." I look around. At this time of day the library's pretty quiet, and we're alone at the computer terminals. "I think we're safe here. And I have an idea. I think I might . . . I think I know someone who might be able to help you."

At that moment there's a sound from the stacks off to the left. We both turn, and to my immense relief we see Mari standing there clutching an armful of books. She looks at me and Lynch and smiles in a puzzled way.

"Laura?" she says. "What are you doing here? Haven't you got school?"

"Mari," I say, and even I can hear the hope in my voice. I bite my lip, wondering how I can possibly ask what I am about to ask "It's good to see you. I . . . I was wondering if I could ask a favour of you?"

Part Two, Chapter Twelve

I duck into the girl's bathroom and splash some water over my face. It makes me feel a little better. I lock myself in a cubicle and try hard to think.

Lynch is out in the middle of town right now. Hopefully she will have found somewhere to lie low, but she's still out there, and still unaware that the police are mounting a full-scale search for her. I could wait until the end of the school day, but by then it might be too late. She has to be warned. Which means I have to get out of school.

I wait in the toilets for an hour, until the bell rings for lunch. Then I head out to the front of the school. Students in the final year are allowed to leave the campus for lunch hour, and my plan is to blend in with them and hope that nobody notices.

As I approach the gate, my heart does a flip. The police cars are still there, and I recognise Miller standing by the gate along with a couple of other officers, talking casually. It takes all my willpower to keep walking and pretend that everything is normal. I pass through the gate along with a small stream of older students, and set off quickly down the road.

I make myself wait until I'm at the end of the road before I relax. Once I'm certain that I'm out of sight of the school gates I start to move at a rapid jog.

It takes me twenty minutes to get into town. I head for the spot where I left Lynch this morning, but unsurprisingly she isn't still waiting there. Breathless from the jog I turn around in circles, searching the scattering of midday shoppers. If I was left alone in a strange high street for a day, where would I go to get away from the crowds?

I try the food court of the mall. It's crowded with people, but none of them are Lynch. I try some of the quieter coffee shops along the high street, but they're similarly empty. As I leave the last one I catch sight of a couple of police officers in fluorescent jackets wandering down the middle of the thoroughfare. They're stopping people at random and talking to them, showing them what looks like a picture. My heart starts thudding again and I duck back inside the coffee shop and head for the toilets. I lock myself in a cubicle and set about removing my school blazer and tie and stuffing them in my bag. I allow myself five minutes to calm down, then head back out.

The two police officers I saw aren't the only ones. They're everywhere;  I see a couple of them attaching posters to lampposts, and I don't even have to go close enough to read to know the gist of what those posters say.

"Where are you, Lynch?" I whisper under my breath. I'm starting to panic now, slow burn. Desperate I start heading for the shopping mall again, wondering if I might have missed her. I'm halfway there when it hits me. Of course; if she was looking for somewhere quiet to spend the day then she could hardly do better than the city library. How could I not have thought of it before? I've spent long enough hiding out there myself that it should have been obvious.

I change course and start towards the library, praying that I won't be too late.

Part Two, Chapter Eleven

There's a policewoman waiting for us in homeroom. She's dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, but just from the way she stands at the front of the class it's obvious she's here on official business. As I make my way to my desk I feel sure that she's looking right at me. Already I can feel myself blushing under her imagined gaze. I sit down and try to remember what I look like at my most normal.

Once everyone is settled at their desks our homeroom tutor steps forward and holds up her hands for quiet. Almost at once, silence falls, people dropping their conversations mid-sentence. The tutor looks almost surprised, but I can sense the tension. Everyone's waiting to see what our visitor is here for, what she has to say. And I have a dreadful sense that I already know.

The policewoman steps forward and clears her throat. She surveys the classroom, her eyes sweeping over me like a searchlight.

"All right everyone," she says. "I'll cut right to the point. I'm officer Miller from the local constabulary, and I'm here to ask for your help." The tension in the room rises another notch, but Miller carries on regardless. "At the moment we're mounting a very serious investigation, in co-ordination with other constabularies up and down the coast. We're looking for a girl who's gone missing, and she'd be about the age most of you are now. I'm here to ask for your help." My throat has gone dry. I'm almost certain that I'm shaking. Desperately, I try to keep my body still and my face set. "Has someone moved in with a friend? Have you seen someone new in town? Even wandering the streets? If you have it's vitally important that you tell us. This girl is dangerous. She's been involved with some very nasty criminals, and has links to terrorist organisations. Your tutor is going to give out a card with her description and my number on it. If anyone of you see or hear anything suspicious, you can call me up anytime of the day or night to discuss it in the strictest of confidence." Miller gives one more sober, searching glance around the room, then steps back. "Thank you," she says, and shows herself out.

The moment she's gone I let out a breath that feels as if I've been holding since I walked into the room. As our tutor walks around handing out the cards I bury my face on my arms and try to cool the blush that's crept up my cheeks. I feel like I've just gone through an interrogation, but as far as I can tell I didn't give myself away. All the same there's this horrible paranoid feeling at the back of my brain. Part of me wants to go running back into town to find Lynch and warn her, and part of me is also wondering: Miller said that she had links to criminal organisations, even terrorists. Could it be true?

For a few minutes I'm torn. But then I think of her standing cold and bedraggled and lonely-looking on the beach and I know at once, of course, that she's no terrorist, no criminal. And at the same time it all suddenly seems really, deeply real for the first time. The Academy, Ingleman, Lynch; they're not part of some other world, some other person's problem. They're here, in my world, in my town, in my life. And for Lynch's sake, and Darren's, it's up to me to do something.

"Are you all right, Laura?" It's our tutor, looking down at me with a concerned frown. I do my best to sit up and smile like normal, but I know at once it's not going to work.

"Actually," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady, "I don't feel very well. Headache. I think . . . maybe I should go to the nurse's office."

The tutor buys it wholesale. Five minutes later I'm making my way down the corridor, hall pass in hand, wondering what on earth I'm supposed to do next.

Part Two, Chapter Ten

I don't sleep that night. Me and Lynch stay up talking until the dawn light is peeking in through the windows. At six AM I head home just long enough to change into uniform and grab some breakfast before I set off for school. Not that I want to go, but I know that if I skipped or called in sick the school would call home to check with my parents, and then there'd be questions and suspicion and trouble. Best to carry on as normal. I left Lynch in town with a handful of change and the promise that I'd come and find her right after the end of school.

As I walk across the park my head is spinning. Could it be true? In the rational light of day it sounds impossible, absurd. Who could believe a story like that? And yet there was no mistaking how earnest Lynch had been in the telling of it. By the end, when she told me how she escaped, and what happened to her friend Syra, she was crying freely. So was I. Back then in that empty house it all seemed so real.

And there were parts of it that rang true as well. That program she mentioned, run by some man called Ingleman. I remember when he came and gave a talk at my school about it. I even remember that Darren signed up to do the tests, although he dropped it later on when it clashed with his hockey games. Could it be possible? Or am I just believing her because I want so badly for there to be some hope that Darren's still alive.

I think of how she talked about her escape. The boy who helped her over the fence--the boy with the tattoos. She described him so well, right down to the scar on his forehead. The scar that I hadn't told her about, that she couldn't possibly have known of beforehand. Was that Darren? The thought fills me with fear and hope and sadness. Where is he now? Is he still alive? Was he punished for helping her escape?

Or is it all just a lie? A little story she concocted to win my sympathy, to keep me on her side? Maybe she's crazy. Maybe it's all happening in her head.

Even if it is all true, what can I do about it? I've never felt so powerless in my life. I have to act, have to do the right thing, rescue Lynch, rescue my brother, bring my family back together . . . but I have no idea how to start at something so big. Last night, Lynch almost laughed when I said we should go to the police.

"It's the police I'm running from, Laura," she told me. "Ingleman's powerful. He has influence. By now I'll be listed on half the wanted lists in the country as a deranged terrorist. They won't even listen to my story before they slap me in a cell and call Ingleman to come fetch."

I'm still turning this all over in my head as I approach the school gates, joining the stream of other pupils. What can I do? I've never felt so powerless. Like always, I end up thinking of Darren. Wondering about him. Hoping for him. It all comes back to my brother.

I'm so wrapped up that I'm at the gates before I notice the police cars parked up on the street outside.