A LOOPHOLE IN THE LAW

The following morning Danny and Dixie were summoned to Miss Duddy’s room. Duddy taught Camouflage, Concealment and Deception, and she was breathless with excitement at the idea of preparing them for the Upper World.

“I have consulted widely with my colleagues as to what might be appropriate,” she said, “and I have selected some classic disguises for you. Now, Danny, please try this on.”

She produced a long blond wig, a caftan, a pair of bellbottoms and a string of beads.

“I believe this look is known as the ‘hippy,’ ” Duddy said, looking pleased with herself. Danny groaned inwardly.

“You will be almost invisible,” Duddy went on. “You’ll blend into any crowd.”

Duddy handed Dixie a long Afghan coat, a flowery skirt and a headband. Dixie slipped on the coat and did a twirl.

“Vandra isn’t here,” Duddy said, “but I think I’ve picked out a look that will make her totally inconspicuous.” Danny shook his head as Duddy took out a pink Mohawk wig, a torn T-shirt and a leather motorcycle jacket.

“This is the ‘punk’ look I believe is common in the Upper World,” Duddy said. “I have some makeup to go with it. Her teeth will be part of the look.”

Dixie grabbed the pink wig and stuck it on her head.

“Yes …,” Duddy said, “I do believe you can mix the two looks.”

Danny shook his head. How would they stay undercover in the Upper World?

“These are only samples of the garments I have prepared,” Duddy said. “You can look at the others later.”

“We’ll look at them now,” Danny said firmly, picking out jeans and T-shirts for them all.

To be fair to Duddy, Danny thought afterward, she had provided useful aids for their mission. She gave them a selection of voice dyes—sprays that changed your voice to make it unrecognizable. She gave them a small packet of fake warts and boils. Dixie turned up her nose at them, but Duddy looked serious.

“A wart or a boil on your face draws attention away from the other features,” she said. “Often a witness can only remember the gross feature.”

There were hair dyes and artificial eyebrows and various items of makeup for the girls.

“Now, Danny,” Duddy said when they were almost finished, “there is one important thing remaining—or rather two. Your eyes. Everyone will recognize and remember you unless we do something about them.”

“I could wear dark glasses,” Danny said.

“Not at night,” Duddy said. “No, that is not satisfactory. There are semipermanent eyeball inks. They involve first removing the eyeball and rolling it in the ink …”

Danny gasped. “Er, maybe not.”

“No,” Duddy said, “it takes a good deal of time for the inflammation and swelling to go down. No, we’ll have to go with a simple membrane.”

“You mean like a contact lens,” Danny said, relieved.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if it’s anything like a simple colored organic membrane placed over the lens of the eye, then you are right.”

Duddy brought them into an empty classroom and sat them down. Her face was serious.

“This is a deadly mission you are embarking on,” she said, “and I wish I could go with you to share my skills. But obviously I can’t. So you must remember the important principles: Don’t draw attention to yourself. Remember that things or people hidden in plain view are often the last to be discovered. Think stealth. Think concealment. The greatest of spies did not need disguises. They knew how to direct attention away from themselves. The great Steff Pilkington could move undiscovered among a group of his closest colleagues, avoiding their attention by studying how they reacted to others. Keep it simple, keep it safe is my motto. Good luck!” Duddy shot to her feet, saluted smartly, then turned away, took a large handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose loudly.

Dixie and Danny looked at each other. Dixie made a face but Danny was touched.

“Steady on, Miss,” Dixie said. “We won’t be setting out for a while.”

“You never know,” Duddy murmured. “Things happen quickly in the spy business.”

Things did indeed happen quickly in the spy business. Ten miles away, on the road leading to Wilsons, a small black car took a bend at top speed, the rear end sliding out before the driver regained control. Behind it came a black jeep, swaying as it rounded the same corner, its powerful engine roaring as it gained on the smaller car.

The jeep was full of men, roughnecks and renegades from the nearby port of Tarnstone. They’d been sent to intercept the driver of the car at the docks as she disembarked from a ship from Grist, the great fortress of the Cherbs. She had given them the slip there, but they were gaining on her. She was taking risks with the small underpowered car and had almost crashed several times. But she had news that would not wait. She knew she must get through.

As the jeep neared behind her, she cursed her luck. For many years she had posed as a man and used the identity of John Cheryl, a trader, to get in and out of Grist. That identity had been compromised, but she had decided to use it one last time. Unfortunately, one of the agents of the Ring had recognized her on the ship. It had been a close thing to get out of Tarnstone, and now … Would she reach Wilsons?

Behind her the front of the jeep loomed over the rear of the small car. The jeep engine roared. It was going to ram! The woman spun the steering wheel to the left. The front of the jeep dealt a blow to the rear of her car and she fought to stay on the road. A piece of bodywork fell off and clattered on the pavement. At the same time there was a bang and she heard a thud as a bullet embedded itself somewhere in the car. Frantically she scanned the way ahead for help. There was nothing … except a small figure making its way nonchalantly along the side of the road. She recognized Vicky the siren, who was gazing with interest at the pursuit. Cheryl Orr leaned out the open window as she drew level.

“Vicky,” she shouted, “anything you want if you get rid of them!”

“Anything?” Vicky shouted back.

“Anything!”

Bullets churned up the pavement beside her as a machine gun chattered. Steam poured from the car engine. Then another sound crept in, a voice almost unbearably sweet and sad, speaking, it seemed, of a heart broken by terrible sorrow yet capable of infinite love. Cheryl shredded some tissue and rammed it in her ears. She knew a siren’s song when she heard it, its endlessly seductive tones, and she had already lifted her foot from the accelerator, the song drawing her back toward Vicky.

The jeep slowed before coming to rest with both front wheels in a ditch. The men got out, moving as if in a dream, smiles on their ugly faces as they turned toward the song of the little siren who stood in the middle of the road. She was beckoning to them with her hands, but her eyes were on Cheryl, reminding her that a promise made to a siren was not easily broken.

Cheryl shrugged. There would be time to deal with Vicky later. Right now she had to get her intelligence to Wilsons.

Two hours later she stood in Devoy’s study, watching the master digest what she had told him.

“You are absolutely sure,” Devoy said, “it’s not some information that has been fed to you to further their own purposes?”

“I have been spying on the enemy for many years,” Cheryl said stiffly. “I am aware of their ruses.” She did not have to say that she had put her life on the line many times; Devoy acknowledged this with a graceful nod. There was the sound of feet on the stairs outside and Brunholm burst in.

“I have to presume you have heard of the disgraceful attempt on my life …,” he burst out before seeing Cheryl.

“Ah yes, the Crossbow of Exquisite Sensitivity,” Devoy said. “I am glad to see you hale and hearty, Marcus.”

“We really need to devise a strategy to protect key staff members from attack,” he said, flinging himself down in an armchair, adding churlishly, “What’s she doing here?”

“She has traveled in great peril from the fortress of Grist,” Devoy said, “to bring us some alarming news.”

“What?” Brunholm said, eyes narrowing.

“I’m afraid the Ring of Five has happened on the loophole in the treaty.”

“They have picked a team of cadets, under-sixteens, to travel to the kingdom of Morne,” Cheryl said. “Ostensibly to study, but of course their real aim is to steal and break the Treaty Stone.”

“According to Cheryl,” Devoy said, “the team has already departed. There isn’t a moment to lose.”

“Do we know who these agents are?” Brunholm asked.

“No,” Cheryl said wearily, “I barely escaped with the information that I got.”

“And grateful for that they are, aren’t you, gentlemen?” A quiet voice spoke in the doorway. It was the detective McGuinness. He strode forward and took hold of Cheryl’s arm, for the detective and the spy were husband and wife.

“She will come with me now,” McGuinness said, pulling her to himself. “She’s exhausted.”

“And has earned whatever poor reward we can give her,” Devoy said. “The information she has brought is priceless, and we are indeed grateful.” Devoy bowed graciously as McGuinness and Cheryl withdrew. But the moment the door had closed behind them, Brunholm whirled round in a fury.

“How did they know that under-sixteens were exempt from the death sentence?”

“Longford is clever, cleverer and more ruthless than I,” Devoy said. “There is a logic to it. In the bitterest of times there was always a door left open for education, that the young might learn from the mistakes of the past and make a better future.”

“He seems to know everything that goes on in Wilsons,” Brunholm snarled.

“He is a spy,” Devoy said, “that’s his job. In the meantime we must send our team straightaway. Tonight, if possible.”

“They’re not ready!” Brunholm cried. “Besides, the physick is still recovering.”

“Then Danny and the girl must go,” Devoy said. “Longford’s team has a head start. Have you sent messages to Morne to expect our team?”

“Yes, of course,” Brunholm said, “but what about Fairman—can he take them across?”

“Certainly,” Devoy said. “Do you not think I know about your smuggling runs, and how you pay Fairman to do your dirty work? At this very moment he is waiting at the back of the building ready to embark on some mission that I am not supposed to know about!”

Brunholm looked abashed. Fairman’s taxi was the only vehicle allowed to cross the border according to the terms of the treaty. Brunholm had his spies in the Upper World, and he often used the taxi to carry messages for him.

“Now that we have the transport,” Devoy said, “we should assemble our team.”

Danny and Dixie were awakened by Blackpitt. “Cadet Caulfield! Cadet Cole! Library of the third landing in five minutes!”

Danny rolled out of bed and looked over the top of the partition that divided his sleeping quarters from Les’s. The young Messenger was still asleep. Danny pulled on trousers, a sweater and his battered overcoat, then guiltily crept toward the door. He knew his friend would be wounded when he found that Danny had not woken him to tell him about the midnight call. Danny groaned inwardly. Would the impulse to betray never leave him?

He needn’t have worried. Les had merely pretended to be asleep while Danny had crept out. He slid out of bed, shoving his pillows under his blankets in case Exspectre or one of the others was to look in his bed. Only one event would have led Devoy to summon Danny and Dixie in the middle of the night. The mission was on.

Thirty minutes later a very sleepy Danny and an overexcited Dixie were standing in the library of the third landing while Devoy briefed them on Cheryl’s information. Danny shivered. For some reason it was less frightening to take on adults than it was to take on people his own age.

“Can you tell us anything about the enemy team?” he asked Devoy.

“Nothing,” Devoy said, “except that if they were chosen by Longford, they will be resourceful and dangerous.”

“That’s nice to know,” Dixie said.

“Hurry,” Brunholm broke in. “Fairman tells me that he brought students across the border from Grist twenty-four hours ago. A girl and a boy.”

A flustered-looking Duddy burst into the room. She was wearing pink flannel pajamas and fluffy slippers.

“This is most unusual,” she said, “most unusual!”

“You must work on Danny’s eyes at once,” Devoy said.

“But my lovely disguises!” Duddy cried.

“No time.” Devoy’s voice was like a pistol shot. “The fate of Wilsons hangs in the balance.”

The detective McGuinness made a meal for Cheryl and waited until she had gone to bed before he left. She had told him what she had learned, and he knew that there would be activity until late at night in Wilsons. He crossed the gardens quietly and found a favorite vantage point in the shrubbery from which he could watch the building.

It was cold, but he hadn’t long to wait before a figure crept stealthily across the lawn. McGuinness reached into his pocket for a long-barreled revolver and set out in pursuit.

Five minutes later he found himself behind the school, outside a disused kitchen annex. There were half-collapsed wooden huts with old crates and scaffolding piled around them. Hidden in the debris stood a black taxi, the engine rumbling. The stealthy form made straight for the taxi and McGuinness set a course to head it off. There was a flash of tools; then the trunk of the cab opened silently. McGuinness, who had approached silently, put the gun to the side of the figure’s head.

“Move a muscle and you won’t see tomorrow,” he said. A frightened face turned toward him. It was Les.

“Do you have any idea what Fairman would have done to you, if and when he found a stowaway?” McGuinness said. They were sitting on two old oil drums at a safe distance from the taxi.

“I want to go on the mission,” Les said sulkily. “I pretended I don’t care, but I do.”

“Stop that,” McGuinness said sharply. “You’re not a child, and the fate of Wilsons, if not the Two Worlds, hangs in the balance.”

“But I could help!” Les said.

“You can help more in Wilsons,” McGuinness said. “Do you know that your friend Toxique is in danger? His father thinks that it was he who tried to kill the Messenger Daisy and failed. Who will help clear him if you do not? And Vandra—would you leave her alone at Wilsons in a time of deadly peril? You are needed, Les. Let the others go to the Upper World. There will be enough danger here.”