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Chapter 15

At 3.35 p.m. exactly, Kirsty met Dawn and Ben at the council building. Kirsty, taking no chances, had wrapped her head round and round with the longest scarf she could find. She could hardly see out of it.

‘Why are you dressed like an Egyptian mummy?’ Dawn asked.

‘It’s complicated. Well, not complicated, exactly –’

‘If they recognise us, we’re in trouble. The fire alarm, see,’ Ben butted in, pulling his own hood down over his forehead.

Dawn rolled her eyes. ‘You two are impossible,’ she said and led the way inside.

Kirsty kept her head down and let Dawn do the talking.

‘Help you?’ the man at the reception desk said, without looking up.

‘I’ve got an appointment with Mr Thomas,’ Dawn said.

‘Mr Thomas gardens or Mr Thomas school dinners?’

‘Er . . . Mr Thomas gardens,’ said Dawn, thinking quickly.

‘Lift. Third floor. Three doors down.’

Inside the lift, Kirsty pushed the button marked ‘3’. She knew she was too old to be bothered about pushing the buttons in lifts, but somehow today she felt quite young. It was something to do with the queasy feeling in her stomach. My first proper crime, she thought; setting off the alarm had just been an accident.

‘We’ll not get caught, will we?’ Kirsty asked.

Dawn shrugged. ‘Well, if we do, you’re too young to go to prison. Me and Ben might have to face justice, I suppose.’

‘Really?’ Ben’s voice sounded squeaky.

‘No, dummy. All we’re doing is adding a made-up name to a list. We’re not stealing the Mona Lisa.’

‘Then why am I so frightened?’ Ben whispered.

Dawn snorted. ‘You’re always frightened.’

The lift doors opened. The corridor stretched out for miles in front of them. The square ceiling tiles and the square carpet tiles seemed to come together at some far point in the distance. Kirsty thought it was like looking down a well.

Dawn went ahead, walking with her head up and her back straight. She looked so brave, Kirsty felt better just being with her. They could hear the muffled sounds of phone calls and typing coming from behind most of the doors. Nameplates told them who was working behind each one. The third door on the right had a small metal plaque with ‘Mr Thomas’ engraved on it. Below, someone had added a Post-it note with ‘gardens’ written on it.

‘There’s nowhere to hide,’ Kirsty whispered.

‘I can see that,’ Dawn said.

‘We have to hide.’

‘Thanks again for stating the obvious.’

‘Dawn, don’t be mean.’ Ben said.

‘Sorry.’

Ben moved past Mr Thomas’s office to the next door. There was no nameplate on it, just a lighter patch of wood where a plaque had been. He pressed his ear to the door and stood still. Then he turned back and waved. ‘In here.’

Ben tried the handle and the door swung open. The room was empty. The light was dim. Kirsty and Dawn followed Ben inside.

‘This is good,’ Dawn whispered. ‘You’ll hear when you can come in and get to the computer.’

‘How will we know?’ Kirsty said.

‘Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan. You’ll know.’

Dawn slipped out and closed the door behind her. Ben and Kirsty crouched down to wait.

The office was small. There was just enough room for a desk and a chair and Kirsty and Ben. The wall which divided it from Mr Thomas’s office had a map of the city on it, dotted with drawing-pins, as though it had measles. The walls were thin enough for them to hear Dawn knock on Mr Thomas’s door. They heard his gruff reply. It was difficult to make out what was being said – it was too muffled – but they could hear the rumble of the conversation through the walls.

‘What if she can’t get him to leave?’ Ben whispered.

‘She will. Just wait.’

They sat crouched up against the wall for what seemed like an age. They could hear a kettle boil and the sound of Mr Thomas stirring a drink. He gave short answers to Dawn’s questions. The moments passed.

‘She’s not going to do it,’ Ben said.

‘Shh.’

Suddenly a shriek sliced the air. They heard a chair fall and then a frightened whimper.

‘It’s Dawn,’ Ben gasped. ‘She’s hurt.’

‘Did he hurt her? Does he know?’

‘Dunno.’

Mr Thomas’s door opened; they could hear him clearly now. ‘Come on, we’ll get cold water on that. There’s a first-aid station, a first aider. This way.’ Then the sound of Dawn sobbing moving off down the corridor.

‘He’s out of the office!’ Kirsty grinned. ‘Come on. Now!’

The coast was clear. They slipped into Mr Thomas’s empty office. Ben rushed straight to his desk. His PC glowed blue.

‘Look at that,’ Kirsty said. She was pointing at a postcard that was Blu-tacked to the monitor – it was a picture of the city museum from the street. ‘He must really love it there.’

‘There’s no time for nosing about,’ Ben said. He took the mouse and started clicking open folders. He was breathing fast. Click, click, click. ‘I can’t find it!’ he said. ‘It’s not here!’

‘Look harder. Quick. He’ll be back any second.’ Kirsty ran back to the door and strained hard to hear any noise in the corridor outside.

Ben’s hand flicked rapidly from side to side, opening windows, following leads through folders and files, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

‘Here!’ he said. ‘I’ve got it! I just need to add a new line for you. Well, for Katy Jennings, actually.’

Footsteps approached. Kirsty held in a squeak, feeling prickles of fear spreading all over. She eased open the door, just far enough to see. Mr Thomas was walking back towards his office. Dawn followed behind him, clutching her arm.

‘Oh no,’ Kirsty said. ‘Ben, you better have finished. He’s back!’

‘Two seconds.’

‘We haven’t got two seconds!’

Kirsty dropped down low and peered around the door; she didn’t dare stick her head out too far. He was ten metres away, eight metres, six metres. He was going to catch them! Dawn struggled to see past Mr Thomas’s bulk. She moved left and right, trying to see the office door. Then she saw Kirsty peeping out at her. Dawn’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes saucered wide. She hurled herself to the floor, landing heavy and hard. Mr Thomas whipped around at the noise. He had his back to the office door!

‘Ben! Now!’ Kirsty hissed.

‘Done!’

‘Move. The lift!’ Kirsty said. Kirsty pulled the door open just enough for the two of them to slip out of the office and pelt down to the lift. Dawn groaned louder and doubled up in pain. Ben bashed the call button again and again. Mr Thomas was bound to turn any second and they were right in view.

‘Stairs!’ Kirsty whispered and ploughed through the doorway just next to the lift. They were in a stairwell; grey steps led down to the floor below. Kirsty leaned against the door, holding it closed. She fought down the giggles. She could still hear Dawn moaning in the corridor behind her, and Mr Thomas starting to panic.

‘Do you need a doctor? An ambulance? Are you hurt?’

Abruptly the moaning stopped. ‘Oh no, I’m fine. Just fell over. I can’t believe what a klutz I’m being today. Thanks very much for meeting me. Bye!’

Kirsty stepped away from the door just as Dawn burst through. Her face was red and blotchy – had she been crying? No, Kirsty realised. She was laughing – killing herself laughing, but straining to be quiet.

‘We’d best get out of here,’ Kirsty whispered. ‘Before Dawn has a heart attack.’

‘Are you OK? Did you burn yourself?’ Ben sounded anxious.

Dawn rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not. I’m not an idiot. I was pretending, you doofus. Though I think I bruised my bum when I threw myself on the floor.’

Kirsty grinned at Dawn. ‘You’re brilliant,’ she said. ‘And I’m top of the list!’