Authors: Helen Douglas
I sighed. Now we were here, a rescue attempt seemed such a long shot. ‘It’s a boundary fence,’ I said. ‘Obviously designed to keep people out. We’re not going to find a break in it.’
‘Come on. Let’s follow the fence towards the back of the Institute,’ said Peg, striding ahead.
We continued north-west, heading towards the back where the lake and the service entrance was.
‘It makes sense that the service entrance will be easier to escape from than the heavily guarded main entrance,’ said Peg. ‘Maybe we could bring in a laundry truck or something as our cover. Get Ryan out through the service entrance and into the truck.’
‘There must be a particular company they use,’ I said. ‘For laundry. If we knew who they were, one of us could get a job as a driver with them and . . . damn! We need more time.’
‘We have to work with what we’ve got,’ said Peg. ‘Let’s see if we can get a bit closer to that service entrance.’
Silently, we made our way through the trees towards the building. The closer we were to the edge of the forest, the harder my heart knocked in my chest.
‘This is close enough,’ whispered Peg, when we were about ten trees’ depth from the edge of the forest. Beyond the trees here was not lawn, but a yard. A lorry pulled up outside a loading bay and we watched as two men began unloading sacks of rice and crates of carrots.
‘Looks like we’ve found the kitchen,’ said Peg in a low voice.
‘Maybe we could smuggle him out in a food delivery truck,’ I said. ‘What’s the name of the company? I can’t quite read it from here.’
Peg stepped forward a few paces, squinting into the distance. ‘Norberry Foods,’ he said.
‘Can’t we bribe a driver to let us make the delivery or something?’
‘Maybe.’
He didn’t sound convinced. I knew why. Even if we left through the service entrance, we’d have to drive through the security gate, possible roadblocks, not to mention a delivery driver who knew too much.
‘What do we do now?’ I asked.
‘Back to mine to see what Antoine and Belle have managed to find out.’
Antoine and Belle arrived five minutes after we did.
‘You find out anything useful?’ I asked.
Antoine unfolded a map. ‘Belle and I have studied the area. There’s a Forest Service road that runs along here.’ He pointed to a section of the map. ‘It’s about a mile away from the Institute. If we can get Ryan out of the building, through the forest to this track, one of us can be here waiting for him.’
‘There’s one slight obstacle,’ I said. ‘It’s a two-metre high electrified metal fence.’
‘Is it definitely electrified?’ asked Antoine.
‘
’Fraid so,’ said Peg.
‘Did you check to see if there are any gaps in the fence?’ asked Belle. ‘Or gates?’
‘The only gap in the fence is where the forest meets the lake,’ I said. ‘So unless we want to escape using a pedal boat, or by swimming, we’re all out of luck.’
‘It’s going to have to be the main gate then,’ said Antoine.
‘It’s looking that way,’ said Peg. ‘I’m going to look into the companies that deliver to the Institute and see if we can borrow a truck.’
‘And then what?’ I asked.
‘If we get Ryan to the shipyard, and on to one of the little space hoppers, we can take him far away. Outside of the Federation even. He could fly the ship himself.’
‘And go where?’ asked Belle.
Peg shrugged. ‘Anywhere. I’d say that’s the least of our worries right now.’
‘OK, so we have a sort-of plan to get him off the Institute grounds and out of the Federation,’ I said, ‘but first we have to break him out of the Institute. Did you manage to get a map, Antoine?’
He closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Eden. I tried. We both did.’
Belle held out her arms. She had a plaster around her left thumb, a bandage around her right wrist and another plaster on her elbow. ‘I managed to burn myself twice and cut myself with a knife,’ she said.
‘Three times Mum left the office to see to Belle. Every time she locked her computer,’ said Antoine. ‘I tried to hack my way in. But I couldn’t. I guess she’s more careful than I thought.’
‘We have to find a way to get a map of the inside,’ said Peg. ‘Or something. Even a rough sketch would be something to go on.’
‘Did you learn anything from inside the museum?’ asked Belle.
‘No,’ said Peg. ‘There were guidebooks, but they just had photographs of the public rooms. And you can’t access anywhere else from the museum.’
‘We need to find a way in,’ said Belle. ‘I wonder if we could get Lyra to interview a member of the kitchen staff? Maybe she could get a tour of the service level.’
The doorbell rang. Peg jumped off the couch to answer it. He came back a few seconds later with a parcel.
‘It’s for you, Eden.’
‘What? Who would send me a parcel?’
‘Delivery guy said he tried the Lakeview Hotel first, but they told him you’d moved here.’
‘I left a forwarding address,’ I said, taking the parcel.
I tore off the brown paper to reveal a white box with a lid. I lifted the lid. Inside was a long length of shimmering blue fabric, laid on a thick bed of white tissue paper.
‘It’s a dress,’ I said, lifting it out of the box.
‘God, it’s beautiful,’ said Belle, helping me hold it up.
It was pale blue silk with a beaded bodice.
‘Who the hell would send me a dress?’ I said, confused.
‘There are shoes in here too,’ said Belle, looking into the box. ‘Heels.’ The shoes were the same blue colour as the dress. ‘And a letter,’ said Belle, passing me a small blue envelope.
I ripped it open. Inside was a simple handwritten note.
Be my date for the Late Summer Ball? CW
I laughed. ‘I can get inside the Institute.’
Everyone looked at me.
‘If I go to the Late Summer Ball with Clarence Wolfe tomorrow.’
Peg opened the door.
‘Can I come in?’ I heard Clarence ask.
‘Sure.’ Peg turned and winked at me.
Clarence was dressed in a cream linen suit with a silk bow tie the exact same colour as my dress.
‘I knew that colour would suit you,’ he said, running his eyes slowly up my body, from the blue heels to the plunging neckline.
‘What time are you planning on bringing her home?’ asked Peg.
Clarence raised his eyebrows. ‘Pegasus, I know you’re now her legal guardian, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to act like her father.’
‘If you touch her . . .’
‘What?’
‘She’s sixteen.’
‘Peg, I’ll be fine,’ I said, glaring at him.
‘Last time I checked she was over a hundred years old,’ said Clarence with a smirk.
He took my arm and we walked – slowly, me tottering, despite an hour of practice in the living room – down the stairs and across the street to the waiting car. Someone must have tipped off the press because the number of photographers was ten times the usual number that loitered outside the entrance.
‘Just look down and let your hair fall in front of your face,’ said Clarence. ‘Don’t let them get a good shot.’
He held the door open and then climbed in the back of the car with me. A driver in a white uniform and hat checked that we were ready to leave and then pulled out into the traffic.
‘We’ll have to do the red carpet,’ said Clarence. ‘It’s just five minutes of posing for photographs and shaking hands. And then I’ll introduce you to my family, because they’ll expect to meet my date. But the rest of the evening will be fun, I promise.’
The car drove right up to the barricades around the red carpet. The driver opened the door for us, and Clarence – thankfully – lent me a hand so I could get out without revealing too much thigh. My shoes were pinching the skin of my foot, right where the ankle met the heel, so I walked slowly, clutching Clarence’s arm and trying not to limp, determined not to broadcast my high-heel inexperience to the whole world.
After shaking hands with a few people, he guided me to the middle of the carpet to pose for photographs. He put an arm loosely around my waist. Cameras flashed from every direction, but the questions were gentler than what I was used to.
‘Such a beautiful dress, Eden. Who is the designer?’
‘Did you pick it yourself?’
‘How long have you known Clarence?’
‘The designer is Miller,’ said Clarence. ‘Eden and I met through mutual friends. I knew her friend Orion Westland.’
The main entrance of the Institute had been transformed. A wooden arbour had been constructed in front of the white stone doorway; hundreds of red and pink roses were twined around it. The scent from the flowers was overpowering.
Once inside, a welcoming party of the Guardians and their spouses – all except the Westlands – awaited us.
‘It’s OK, they won’t bite,’ Clarence whispered.
Clarence introduced me to just one couple: his parents.
‘Mother, Father,’ said Clarence with exaggerated politeness, ‘may I introduce Eden Anfield.’
Clarence’s mother – a petite blonde with bright red lipstick and unnaturally white teeth – almost curtseyed. ‘How lovely to meet you in person.’
Admiral Wolfe shook my hand. ‘I’m pleased to see you’ve settled into life in Lakeborough,’ he said tonelessly.
I smiled at the man who had determined my life was nothing more than collateral damage. ‘I’ve found the locals to be exceptionally friendly.’
We walked into the room. It was a formal hall, the sort of thing I’d only ever seen in stately homes in England, though they probably existed in palaces and official buildings all over the world. The ceiling was as high as three floors and the dimensions of the room were as big as a football pitch. The walls were the same white stone as most of the Institute, but tonight they glowed a warm pink – the result of thousands of fairy lights strung around the walls.
There were hundreds of people in the hall, and the sound of their laughter and chattering bounced harshly off the cold floor and high ceilings. I was grateful to Clarence for quickly ushering me through the room – with just a few polite introductions – to the courtyard garden at the rear of the Institute. This, clearly, was where the real party was happening.
Under a gazebo at one end of the lawn an orchestra was noisily tuning up. We wandered across the grass to the other side where a lone harpist was plucking the strings of her instrument, creating a timeless, haunting melody. In between the two musical acts were dozens of food and drink stations, and ahead of us – on the lake – thousands of white candles floated and bobbed on the calm water.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I said.
Clarence smiled. ‘Isn’t it? And everyone who matters in the whole of the Federation is here tonight. The Guardians, admirals, judges, film stars, musicians, diplomats, fuel tycoons, the young, the rich and the beautiful. And you.’
I bit my lip and tried to think of something to say. It was a genuinely stunning spectacle. And Clarence seemed all right to me, despite Lyra’s warnings and Peg’s obvious dislike.
‘Is it true what you said about being Ryan’s friend?’ I asked.
Clarence smiled. ‘Of course. We were in school together. Sat next to one another in Advanced Maths for Portal Creation.’ He leant in and whispered in my ear. ‘I stole the fuel that sent him back to 2012.’
‘You did?’
‘My family’s filthy lucre comes from fuel,’ he said. ‘If anyone can get their hands on large quantities of it without attracting attention, it’s me.’
Peg and Lyra had never said anything about Clarence being one of the good guys, one of those who helped Ryan get back to me. Was it possible they didn’t know?
‘You were part of the whole plan?’
‘Yep. Now this is your first Late Summer Ball. What would you like to drink?’
‘Since it’s a special occasion, how about a glass of your finest champagne?’
‘We do have Canada’s finest champagne. However, if you want to really celebrate in style, we could share a magnum of Alaskan beer.’
‘Whatever you suggest.’
Clarence grabbed an enormous champagne-shaped bottle of beer and two tall champagne flutes from one of the drinks stations. He popped the stopper and poured us each a full glass with a frothy head that spilled over the top of the glass and all over our hands.
‘Here’s to the future,’ he said, knocking his glass against mine.
I sipped, but got only a mouthful of froth. That was fine; I had to remember – whatever Clarence said about having helped Ryan – I was here for a reason, and I needed a clear head.
‘Let me give you the low-down on some of these people,’ said Clarence. He topped up his glass. ‘That’s Claudette Legrand, the president’s daughter.’ He pointed to a beautiful young woman in a silver ballgown. ‘Terrible drug habit. Started on opium at fifteen. Lucky for her she’s exceedingly rich.’ He pointed at another young woman. ‘Juliette Bernard. Highest paid actress in Hollywood. And that’s Simon Pratt standing next to her. He’s dating her. He used to be her chauffeur.’