Lady Vyner looked down at the scene with disgust.
There was a crane, two flatbeds, and too many support vehicles to count. It was a military assault, and the world was rolling in diesel smoke. They’d laid heavy ramps, and one truck was reversing round the fountain; a high-pitched alarm was wailing over the park. There were two articulated lorries carrying giant triangles, and orphans capered about, their cries floating upward as they leaped on and off the trucks.
“Pray for an accident,” she muttered. “Fall under a wheel, someone.”
Every ornament on Lady Vyner’s sideboard was dancing as the crane moved through. When the old woman went to the other side of the room and peered down, there it was in the center of the courtyard. Seconds later its long arm was extending higher and higher, the greased steel flashing in the floodlights.
“Who is that?” she shouted. “There’s a child on the crane!”
Caspar looked up in time to see a boy level with the window, waving.
“Anjoli,” said Caspar. “He’s a show-off, Gran.”
The boy wore a bright yellow hard hat, and his gray shirt flapped in the breeze. He seemed to skip up the metalwork and then he jumped down to a giant hook that was now swinging over the walls. It lifted him higher.
Lord Caspar had no interest in the construction project. The only reason he wasn’t in bed was that a very special parcel had arrived the previous day and he’d been working on his own obsession all through the night. He’d ordered a length of high-tension cord from an archery specialist in London and it had finally arrived. There it was, on the table in front of him, long and rubbery. Next to it were the components of an ancient crossbow. He’d been restoring it for eleven weeks, ever since he’d lost his flintlock pistol to Millie. Bolts, pins, washers, timber sections, and metal rings: he’d cleaned and greased them all. He’d assembled and disassembled them; he’d rebored holes and regrooved channels. He’d fashioned a new trigger from an old coffeepot, and he’d sharpened three beautiful arrows that he’d found his gran using as backscratchers. He trimmed the cord with a razor and now he stretched it across the arms of the bow. He didn’t notice the walls and floor shaking around him, not even when glasses smashed in the kitchen.
Caspar was ready for Millie; round two was approaching.
*
It took fifteen minutes to get the trusses in, then an hour to move the pallets of slate. With sixteen willing helpers, every piece of kit was in position by breakfast time. The drivers got their papers signed and piled into their trucks. They’d never seen a team like it; the children had terrified them and they were pleased to speed off out of the park. As day broke, the line of children worked, singing. Arc lights went up. A storage hut was hauled onto an earth platform and hooked up to power. Henry dragged in a cart laden with scaffolding boards, and soon the flat earth was duckboarded and a couple of narrow towers were tied into the walls. Everyone was hard-hatted and overalled, and all wore boots.
“Clarissa, are you down there?”
The children looked up and saw the headmaster at his study window. “We need to get the first truss up right away, so we need everyone on scaffolding. Routon suggests bracing it from about where you’re standing. I’ve got to have a little chat with Miss Hazlitt about this briefcase business, so I wonder if you could supervise the block-and-tackle. Millie? Can you and Sanjay sink a tent peg, just where you’re standing? Then we’ll throw a line down to you and use that as a cantilever. The first truss is the hardest!”
The tent peg he had in mind turned out to be a five-foot iron stanchion. It was so heavy the two children could hardly lift it. If it really was a tent peg it would have also anchored a boat. Several orphans assisted and Israel got to work with the sledgehammer. He sat up on Sanjay’s shoulders as he swung it, smashing the top of the peg with such force sparks were struck from the metal. When it was in, Henry attached a rope and the end was flung up to little Anjoli who was still on the crane hook. He wore a headset and gave instructions to Professor Worthington, who was back at the controls.
Around her, the scaffolding was going up. This was bamboo, and the orphans had had enormous fun practicing their pole-vaulting skills. Several bundles had been lying ready for days, and the long poles were so bendy they could send a child up as high as the headmaster’s study window. Under Asilah’s supervision, the poles were now lashed together into quadrilaterals. Captain Routon took a ten-minute geometry class, making various observations about angles, and there was a short delay because one of the smallest orphans had trouble understanding the concept of congruence. After that, the scaffolding rose quickly.
“Sanchez, we need to talk,” said Millie.
“I know,” said Sanchez. “But I don’t know what to say. I’m thinking and thinking, and the plain fact is I don’t know what to do. We didn’t get any evidence.”
“I know.”
“We need to go down again, don’t we? We need to photograph the place, or film them in action.”
“We need to look for Tomaz!”
“I know, and we need a meeting. We need to tell everyone what we’ve seen. If we get everyone together, tonight—”
There was an enormous cheer as she spoke and a howl of engine noise. Both children swung round and saw the crane juddering into life, its wheels spinning. The air seemed to go hot in waves, and then the gearbox burst in a series of gunshots. Professor Worthington was at the controls, reversing into position.
“Sanchez, I’ve just had an idea!” shouted Millie. The great hook swayed over them all and Israel directed it down. “Why don’t we find out who rents that place? Surely we can find out who’s in charge.”
“How?” yelled Sanchez.
“Lady Vyner!” cried Millie. She put her mouth close to Sanchez’s ear. “I should have thought of it before. She must know her own tenants, so she must know who Jarman is! We’ll find out the background!”
“Okay,” shouted Sanchez. It was his turn to yell into Millie’s ear. “But she’s not going to tell us anything. She might be in on the whole thing.”
“Send Sam,” cried Millie.
“What?”
“Send. Sam. I’m serious! It’s a brilliant idea. He looks harmless. Send him in with a bottle of booze. Get her drunk. Get him to ask a load of questions. We’ll talk later, my voice is hurting!”
They stepped back out of the fumes in time to see Anjoli lean down from the crane’s hook. Smaller boys were passing him a canvas sling on bamboos, which he attached and pushed on to Henry, who supported the first roof truss. Knots were tied and Anjoli put his thumbs up. Asilah radioed Professor Worthington and suddenly the gigantic triangle was floating upward, rising to the mansion walls.
To see the great beam bridging what had been, for so long, an open, burnt-out space was an emotional moment for all. The timber peak soared upward like a spire and traced the line the roof would take. The headmaster found his eyes were blurred with tears. He saw Anjoli run up to the top, like a barechested angel. He received the bracing rod, tied it off quickly with a black-and-gold tie, and saluted again. Israel lit good-luck crackers and there was a volley of triumphant explosions.
So the trusses rose; timbers braced and connected them and before lunchtime all eighteen were in position. The carpentry team started work on windows. The masonry squad, under the personal supervision of Captain Routon, were sealing the beams in place. Four hip rafters were slotted in, fitting perfectly, and there was the rib cage of the roof ready for batons and slates. The cathedral was rising.