The Black Room

“WE CAN’T DO IT,” EMMA SAID. “WE CAN’T JUST TAKE things into our own hands.”

“You don’t understand!” Robert said fiercely. “Nor do you, Tosh. You’ve always had someone around to bail you out: Mom and Dad, doctors, experts—people like that. You don’t know what it’s like to face real danger. When there’s no one except you to take responsibility.”

“There are people,” Tom said. “All we’ve got to do is make a phone call.”

“That might save the girl under the floor. But it won’t help Lorn.” Robert was leaning forward urgently now, with his elbows on the table. “And Lorn’s the one who needs help first. Because if we don’t rescue her—she’ll die.”

But he didn’t feel so certain anymore. The pale girl in the black room seemed just as remote and fantastic as the little people living under the ground. If one thing was true, why not the other?

“Look,” Robert said desperately, “give me twenty-four hours. That’s all I need. After that you can go to the police—if you still want to.” He watched Tom’s and Emma’s faces, turning the conservatory key over and over in his long, strong fingers. “Just help me get that girl out of there first, so I can take her to the woods. We could do it tonight.”

“You think so?” Emma said impatiently. “Just because you’ve got that key? That’s not the answer to everything. What about the security light? And burglar alarms? I bet they’ve got one of those.”

“There must be a way to deal with things like that.” Robert’s face was stubborn. “We’ve just got to think.”

But Emma hadn’t finished. “And suppose you succeed and Lorn—comes back together. What happens then? Does she have to go home to that hole in the ground?”

“Oh yes?” Emma raised her eyebrows. “So will you be wanting Mom and Dad to adopt her?”

“How should I know?” Robert was starting to look annoyed now. “We can’t worry about details like that—”

Tom wanted to shake her and make her be quiet. Same old hag, he thought. Still trying to take charge. But then he saw her expression—and a switch flipped in his head. She wasn’t putting Robert down because she liked to. She was trying to take charge because she was afraid.

“Look, Robbo,” he said. “We’ve got to be practical. Emma’s right about the burglar alarm. They’re bound to have one of those. And they’re bound to be on their guard when they find that the key’s disappeared.”

At last something seemed to register with Robert. He sat back on his heels, looking thoughtful. “If they’re really worried, they might get the lock changed. I need to get the key copied, don’t I? And try and sneak the original one back before anyone notices.”

Emma gave a short, harsh bark of laughter. “So who are you now? The Invisible Man? Stop daydreaming, Rob. None of it’s going to work. Not unless you’ve got a double agent on the inside?”

“Not a double agent,” he said slowly. “But there’s someone on the inside who might be ... persuaded to help us. If we have a little talk with him.”

IT WAS EASY TO HANG AROUND BY THE BUS STOP WHEN THE school buses came through. Robert went ahead, to stand at the corner of the street, and Tom and Emma watched the buses come past.

Warren was on the third one. He got off with a crowd of other boys, but Tom could see he was really on his own, just tagging along at the back. The others went up the road in little groups, chatting and fooling around, and Warren trailed along behind them, laughing self-consciously whenever he overheard a joke.

“The others aren’t a problem,” Tom muttered to Emma. “They’ll shake him off in a minute, when they start going different ways. We just need to wait for the right moment.”

They strolled along behind Warren, watching the other boys pull away from him. Gradually a gap opened up. By the time Warren reached his street, he was three or four steps behind the others.

Robert was standing on the corner, pretending to make a phone call. He let the others go past and then stepped out, immediately in front of Warren, so close that their noses were almost touching—or they would have been if Robert hadn’t been a good six inches taller.

It was meant to be threatening, and it was. And Warren reacted just as Tom thought he would. He stopped dead for a moment, looking down at the pavement. Then he took a step backward and tried to walk around Robert, with his face turned away.

It was the instinctive defense of someone who expected to be a victim. And it didn’t work. Robert simply stepped sideways to block his path, and Tom came up behind and tapped him on the shoulder.

Warren stopped dead. Then he turned around, slowly and warily, and looked at Tom’s face. As the message traveled from his eyes to his brain, his hand went up to his bag and the fingers clamped tightly around the strap.

“That’s right,” Tom said cheerfully. “I’m the one who stole your bag. But it was very disappointing. I was hoping for something much better inside.”

Warren’s eyes flicked nervously left and right. Not too fast, Tom told himself. If he gets really scared, he’ll bolt. They had to do things quietly, without attracting attention. He took the key out of his pocket, producing it with a flourish, to make sure that Warren was really looking.

Warren looked blank. Oh come on, you lunkhead. You must know what it is. But Tom spelled it out, to make sure it was crystal clear.

“It’s a key to your house, Warren. And do you know what it unlocks?” He waggled it again. “It’s the key of the conservatory.”

Warren’s eyes widened suddenly. His hand flashed out, and he grabbed at the key, trying to twist it out of Tom’s hand. But he wasn’t quick enough. Tom threw it over his head, and Robert snatched it out of the air and put it in his pocket.

“Don’t be mean,” Emma cooed. She stepped into the gutter, moving up beside Warren so that he was completely boxed in. “Let him have it back.” She gave Warren a big, artificial smile. “You don’t want us poking around in the conservatory, do you?”

Warren’s mouth began to tremble, and Tom wondered for a second what would happen if they just told him the truth. We know about the girl under the floor. We’re going to rescue her. Will you help us?

He looked kindly at Warren and gave him a smile like Emma’s. “Of course you can have the key back,” he crooned. “We’re not interested in that cruddy old television in your conservatory. I’m sure you’ve got much better things inside the house. Haven’t you?”

Warren shook his head furiously. And then nodded, as if he didn’t know what answer to give.

Tom raised his voice slightly, giving it a threatening edge. “I hope you’re going to help us. Otherwise... we might have to talk to your sister.” Warren’s face went white. For a second, Tom thought he’d overdone it and ruined the whole thing.

Then Warren said, “I haven’t got a sister.” His voice sounded tight, as if someone was choking him.

“There’s a girl around somewhere,” Emma said gaily. She reached out toward his bag and flicked at the braid on the zipper toggle. “If you won’t help us, we’ll have to track her down and see if she’s more cooperative.”

He knew the answer already. It was obvious from the way Warren was standing and from his sullen, hopeless expression. They’d gotten him exactly where they wanted him, and all he needed now was a bit more hassling to make him admit it.

“That’s better,” Tom said. “That’s much better. Now you’re being sensible—and we can talk about the key.”

He clicked his fingers and Robert tossed it to him. He caught it and held it high in the air, dangling it just out of Warren’s reach.

“I’m going to give this to you,” he said. “And I want you to put it back in the door, very quietly. So that no one knows it’s been missing. Can you do that?”

“Not so fast.” Tom lifted it higher. “There’s another thing as well. We’d like a little bit of help tonight.”

Warren’s eyes flickered up and down, left and right. He looked everywhere except into Tom’s face. “I can’t do anything,” he whispered. “My dad would kill me.”

“We want you to turn off the burglar alarm,” said Tom. “And the security light. Just for tonight. We’d like them off by midnight.”

“No, no, not midnight. I can‘t—” Warren shook his head. “They’re not always asleep—”

“Don’t forget,” Robert said from behind him. “And don’t even think about telling anyone.” It was the first time he’d spoken. Warren glanced fearfully over his shoulder, and Robert drew a finger slowly across his throat.

“Look at me!” Tom said sharply. Warren’s head snapped back. Tom pushed the key into his hand and closed the fingers around it. “Here you are, then. Put it back as soon as you get home—without being noticed. And make sure you don’t fall asleep tonight. If the burglar alarm goes off”—he smiled wolfishly—“we’ll have to call the police and tell them about all the suspicious things we’ve seen.”

He meant to sound vague and terrifying, and he could see that he’d succeeded. He stared straight into Warren’s eyes, not letting him look away, and Warren stared back, beyond thinking or speaking or moving. Paralyzed with fear.

For one, long moment, Tom knew exactly what it felt like. He could have been staring right through Warren’s pudgy face into his wretched, shivering mind. It was like being in a tight, closed space, with no air and no room to move.

“All right,” he said abruptly. Ending it sooner than he meant to because he couldn’t bear the feeling anymore. “You can go now. Just do what you’re told and keep quiet about it. Then you won’t get into trouble.”

Warren bobbed his head obediently, and looked around for a way out. Emma gave him another one of her smiles.

“I know we can rely on you, Warren,” she said. Then she stepped back and let him dodge past her, into his street.

They heard him scuttle down toward his house, getting slower as he reached the end of the road.

“Yes, he will.” Emma grinned at Tom. “You played that just right. He’d have done anything he was told. You had him in the palm of your hand.”

Tom felt sick. He’d made Warren do what he wanted. Instinctively, he’d known the right things to say and the right tone of voice to use, to tap into the fear that dominated everything Warren did. He’d understood him.