Hours until we leave for London: One.
Where the safety deposit box is located; Harrods, Kensington.
How long I need to break into it: Five hours.
How many I will actually have: Two.
Team: Grace.
Number of Questions Stan has asked me since he accosted me at breakfast: 14.
Number I've answered: 5.
Stan is unusually skittish with me. He's watching my every move. He's nervous about something and doesn't want me to catch wind of it. Which can only mean he knows something about Amelia and doesn't want to tell me. My worst fear is that she's dead. The best outcome is they've found her, but she's not in a good way. He keeps telling me to focus on the mission. That I need to ignore everything else that has been going on. He says it like it's simple. But It's very hard to do when every waking thought is consumed with a girl I haven't seen for almost three months.
Seventy-Eight days they've had her. 1872 hours. Have you ever have something horrific happen to you, and it feels like it's been going on for an endless amount of time, but when you look at a clock, it's only been fifteen minutes? Imagine what happens when that fifteen minutes becomes over one thousand hours. Who knows what they will have done to her by now.
The fact she hasn't come back leads me to believe she's not alive. All my training tells me that. I think that once today's mission is over, Stan is going to tell me they've found her corpse. Which means they will have gotten whatever they need from her. Three British spies will have died. Yet somehow only I, the teenager in training, seems to really give a shit. If she is dead, I will never forgive my brother or this school.
My entire year is sat in the entrance hall waiting for instruction. Everyone is chatting excitedly, but not Grace and I. We're sat, shoulders pressed together, silence beating between us. She's been as torn apart as I have. She looks worn, tired. There is a belief that if we are taken, backup will be coming. But Grace and I have been left to feel as though we're crazy for wanting to provide backup for Amelia. It really is proof that once you're out of here, you're on your own; trust no one. Not even your own brother.
"What's that noise?" Lily asks, looking at me.
There's a pulsating, rhythmic noise filling the air outside. I shrug my shoulders. They all do this. They all expect me to know everything all the time. I don't know if it's because I'm top of the class or my brother, but no matter how many times I tell them; Stan doesn't tell me anything; they still ask. Lily makes her way out of the hall first, and we all follow. We look up at the three black shadows in the sky.
"It's a helicopter," I say, half as a joke.
"No shit," Alvin snaps, draping his arm over Lily's shoulders.
They're a thing now. They think everybody cares and talks about them. They don't. The most interesting thing Lily has ever done is get kicked in the head by Amelia. That's her legacy. I don't bite back. I watch as Miss Gateshead, Stan and Mr Hawkness emerge from the building.
"There will be three groups," Stan wastes no time in starting. "One with me. One with Gateshead. One with Hawkness."
I'm praying for Hawkness, but I know I'll have Stan. They're keeping an eye on me, and what better way to do that then put me with a trained spy who knows everything about me. He's been there since I was born, was literally in the room when I came into the world. There is no one else who can figure out what I'm up to quicker. Which is why I had Grace hide the contents of Fluffy's grave. I have to work extra hard to keep my mask up around him. I can do it, but it's easier not having to.
As predicted, Stan calls my name. Along with Grace and a bunch of others. He instructs us board the first helicopter. We do the thing we know best and follow instructions. Grace takes a seat next to me. There are headphones to put on, but I decide not to. I want to drown out my brothers voice for as long as possible today.
I watch him clamber aboard. He throws a glance at me. Something about this whole trip is off. I turn my head and look out the window, the chopper blades picking up speed above us. We'll be there in an hour, two maximum. London is a big place and depending where we end up might mean I have even less time then I've planned for.
I watch the greenery below fly by. I wonder about Amelia, weird glances from Stan. I count the length of time that has passed since she was taken. I wonder if she will have been able to hold out this long. If she can hold out longer. I'm coming for you, Amelia. I promise.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Grace and Stan talking through their headsets. She's shaking her head, denying something and he looks angry. I don't want to get involved. I don't care to. I've got bigger things to worry about. But after twenty minutes of their back-and-forth, Grace nudges me, pointing to the headset. I stare at her for a second, resisting the urge to defiantly look past her. Her eyes are pleading with me, so despite myself, I slam them on my head.
"What?" I say to the both of them.
"You're the only two with headsets turned on," Stan tells me, straight away. He's got that no nonsense look on his face. "Do you know the number if the security lockbox you're going to take today?"
When you find out your parents are like James Bond at the age of five, there really isn't much that can shock you. But let me tell you, hearing those words come out of his mouth really threw me. I turn, accusation in my eyes, and glare at Grace.
"It wasn't me!" She shrieks. "They didn't get it from me!"
"We didn't." Stan says and my eyes swivel back to him. "Three days ago this advert was posted in the local news paper." He hands me a battered page that has been torn from a newspaper: "It was for you."
I snatch the piece of paper from him. It's covered in tiny ads. There's one in the top right corner that catches my eye.
ACTOR WANTED - Synopsis of story; boy who goes to prestigious private school is on the hunt for a girl. He's to meet her on a Tuesday, two weeks before her birthday, in Harrods. They are to retrieve a lockbox and solve a mystery! Very exciting opportunity. Day rate: £150. Please contact us on elijahsproductions@IamAWarbur.com.
A pang shoots through my chest. Amelia. I don't know if this is the stupidest or smartest thing I've ever seen. I read it over and over. If you knew it was for me, you can clearly see it's for me. But if you didn't, if you weren't looking, you'd have no idea.
"She's asking for backup." I say, looking at Stan.
"We don't know it's her," He warns. "It could be a trap."
"But what if it's not?" I say.
"Then she's asking for backup." Stan nods. "It's the first lead we've had since she went."
"Oh, bullshit." I snap. "You haven't even been looking."
Stan looks so offended it would be funny, any other time and it would be hilarious. Not now. Not when it's about Amelia.
He's furious with me. "Who do you think turned her house upside down? Where do you think I've been every Thursday and Friday? Why do you think CM had a sudden change of schedule? I have been searching everywhere. She was no where to be found. Not until that," He jabs his finger in the direction of the newspaper, "Three days ago."
I stare at him, "I don't believe you."
"You think I'm the kind of guy who leaves a teenage girl, not just any teenage girl, but one of us; in the hands of someone who can shoot dead her mother? I might come across cold and calculated Elijah, but I can promise you that is not the case."
Admittedly, I feel a bit guilty for my assumptions. "You could have included me in the investigation."
"And have my brother shot too?" He snaps. "We can't go through official channels with this. Someone, somewhere, is leaking things about the school. I can't give you full protection."
"I don't care about that!" I hiss, "They've had her
for nearly three months."
"Which is exactly why that, might be a trap. Maybe Amelia never knew about it. Maybe she was working with them all along. Who knows, but something doesn't feel right."
I know I'm pretty hard on Stan. I know it's because of our differences and our parents. But in all my life I have never doubted that he's very good at the job that was chosen for us. I sit back in my chair, and assess this new information.
Amelia had said she never found a will. She can't have known about the safety deposit box, if she had, she would have gone there long ago. Which means maybe they knew her dad had one. I'm willing to guess they don't know what number. Maybe they went to the house, took her with them, and when she saw Fluffy's grave disturbed, she knew it could only be me. Stan is right. This is probably a trap. But a trap that might lead me to Amelia? I'm taking the risk.
"What's the number of the lockbox?" Stan asks again.
"I'm not telling you." I say, my voice calm and clear. "Because you're sending me in, so you don't need to know."
"Elijah," Grace says, it's the first time she's spoken. "You should tell him. I want her back too, but he's years older than us, has experience in the field and we don't know who we're working against."
I take in her words, sit back in my chair and fold my arms to my chest. "I'm the only one getting Amelia out of there."