Extolziby’s face filled the holo screen in the living room. Talura was jammed on the couch between Betsy and Joe. Magellan stood behind them. ‘Perhaps he’s not as bright as one had hoped after all,’ he sneered. ‘Never mind. It’s what inside that counts. Isn’t that right, Talura?’
For the past few hours, Talura had been locked into a different room with Betsy and Joe standing in silence outside. She had tried speaking to them. It was no use. Magellan had convinced them that she and the others at the college were the enemy. It was like talking to people who had been completely brainwashed. When they did speak to her, they had an explanation for everything. They couldn’t see that Magellan was simply using them. He was using her too. The difference was that she knew it. She was the bait. But bait could bite back.
‘I need the toilet,’ said Talura, as, on screen, Extolziby backed away from the gates.
‘Again?’ said Magellan.
‘I’ve only been once since I got here.’
Magellan was far too distracted to question her more.
‘If I don’t go, I’m going to wee myself right here on your expensive couch,’ Talura said, squeezing her knees together.
Magellan clicked his fingers. ‘Betsy, be a dear.’
Betsy sighed and shot Talura a spiteful look. She grabbed her arm so hard that it hurt and yanked her into a standing position. Then she shoved her towards the door. The toilet was out in the hallway.
‘If he climbs the fence and you zap him, make sure it’s recorded. I don’t want to miss that,’ said Betsy, as she swiped her hand across the security panel, allowed her fingerprint to be scanned, then dragged Talura from the living room into the hallway.
Please don’t try to climb the fence, X, thought Talura, as she lost sight of him.
Extolziby stood on the pavement across the road, the snowy park behind him. For the first time since he had climbed out of the window that morning, he was stumped. The security was too tight. There were cameras everywhere. He had already been caught looking at the delivery entrance by at least one. There was no way he was going to be able to sneak in to find Talura.
A young woman with a clipboard was coming towards him. She was young, maybe a student, and had olive skin and dark hair tied back in a ponytail.
‘Can I interest you in making a donation to the dogs’ home?’ she asked, holding up a picture of some canines that looked even sadder than Extolziby felt.
It took him a moment to realize that she was a chugger a charity mugger. They stopped members of the public to ask them for a donation. Most people avoided them like the plague but Extolziby always seemed to get sucked in, even though he was probably a charity case himself.
Without thinking, he dug his hand into his pocket before he remembered that he didn’t have a single penny. A beagle with big brown eyes stared back at him from the flyer attached to the clipboard.
Suddenly he had an idea. ‘I’m really sorry, I don’t have any money. But can I borrow your pen for second?’
The chugger looked a bit put out so Extolziby turned out his pocket, the white fabric flapping in the snowy breeze, so she could see that he wasn’t lying. ‘Go on, then.’
He reached over and took the pen. He scribbled out the name and address on the envelope and wrote above the scribbles Barnaby Magellan.
‘Thanks,’ he said, skipping round the confused girl and dodging through the traffic as he headed for the entrance. It wasn’t a great plan but it was the only one he had, and the longer he hung around, the more likely it was he would be caught. If not by the building’s security guards then by the police, who must still be scouring the area for him.
Across the busy road, he walked straight up to one of the black-jacketed men. He held up the envelope for a second. ‘Barnaby Magellan. Am I in the right place, guv’nor?’ he said, in his best London accent.
The black jacket looked at him. ‘Dunno. Don’t you have an address? And why are you talking like that?’ he said, with a broad Glasgow accent.
Extolziby blushed. ‘He has to sign for it. I looked round at the delivery entrance but I couldn’t see anyone so I walked back here. Can you help me or not?’
‘Stay there and don’t move,’ said the black jacket.
Every fibre in Extolziby’s being told him to run. But he couldn’t. If he did they would know he was trying to trick them. The black jacket had stepped away. Now he reached up and touched his collar before talking into his sleeve. Seconds passed. Then a minute. He walked back over.
‘On you go,’ he said. ‘Inside the foyer it’s the last lift on the right. It’s marked “Penthouse”. It’s all automated so the door will open. You don’t have to do anything. Mr Magellan’s waiting for you.’