The Adjusters (13 page)

One story in particular caught his eye. It was a recent interview with John Mallory that had been grabbed from the
Financial Times
website. In it he spoke about an education revolution he
believed was going to occur during the 21st century. The reference was brief but something about Mallory’s fervent tone stuck in Henry’s mind.

He looked at Fox. “So Mallory’s interested in education?”

“
Very
interested,” Fox replied. “I started at Malcorp High when I was twelve, back when it was just a normal school. Then something began happening. Kids from Newton
were offered a part in an accelerated learning course that promised to turn them into geniuses over a few weeks or something. They signed up and were taken out for special classes. And guess
what?”

“It worked?”

“Only too well,” Fox said bitterly. “Pretty soon everyone was signing up. Getting taken out. And when they came back they were all little Einsteins. After that the classes
changed too. If you hadn’t been in the programme, you couldn’t keep up. No way.”

“So more kids signed up?”

“Or were signed up by their parents,” Fox added. “I mean, who wouldn’t want a genius for a son or daughter?” She paused, remembering. “But when they came back
they weren’t just smart… They were different. I’ve seen kids who’d been friends since kindergarten hardly speak to one another any more. It wasn’t that they’d
fallen out – had an argument or something. They’d just gone cold. Like they didn’t have any connection any more, nothing to say. There was something missing.”

Henry thought back to some of the strange behaviour he’d seen over the past week and understood what she meant. He remembered how the coach had described the students at Malcorp high. That
same word.
Cold.

“When new kids come to town they’re given a week or so to realize they’re not going to fit in,” Fox continued, “then they’re handed the sign-up sheet for the
special programme
. A few, like Christian, hold out, even though their parents soon start begging them to sign. Others try to run away. They’re never seen again…or they come back
changed
. Gabrielle and me and some others formed a group against the special programme. One by one, we’d watched our friends change since Malcorp arrived. They were still there in the
same classes as us, but they may as well have been different people. That wasn’t going to happen to us. We weren’t going to lose each other…or ourselves. So we signed a pact that
we wouldn’t sign up, no matter how bad things got at school or how much pressure we were put under.” She sighed. “I’m the only one left.”

She reached over and produced a photograph from the back of the book. It showed Fox and Gabrielle on the very sofa they were sitting on now. There were two other kids he didn’t recognize,
but another he did. It was Blake…and he had his arm around Gabrielle’s shoulder.

“Blake was Gabrielle’s boyfriend?” Henry asked incredulously. “The one who broke her heart?”

“You know him?”

“Mallory’s grandson? Yeah, I’ve met him. I bet the head of Malcorp just loved his grandson hanging out with your little anti-capitalist brigade.”

“We’re not anti-capitalists,” Fox said, shaking her head. “Blake was a cool guy… Before.”

“
Cool guy
.” Henry thought of the kid’s submissive behaviour around his grandfather and his complete loyalty to Malcorp. Now he had heard everything.

Henry closed the book on his lap and tried to process it all. A few days before, he could have dismissed everything that Fox had told him as crazy. But not after what he’d seen around
Malcorp High that week. And if kids like Blake were anything to go by, there was certainly something weird going on. He didn’t know if they were giving them drugs or hypnosis sessions, but
Malcorp was doing something to the kids at the high school.

And Henry was becoming certain of one thing: if he just sat back and did nothing, he’d be next in line for the
special education programme
. And then what would happen? Would he
become excellent at everything he did? Would he be able to swim as fast as Steve…but be cold and detached and lacking in joy?

“So, what do we do?” he asked.

“We need to get the story out there,” Fox said. “I’ve made contact with a reporter from the city. A guy called Richardson. He’s coming here to meet with me on
Monday morning. I’m going to tell him everything.”

Henry wondered how that conversation would go – telling a seasoned journalist about a supposed Malcorp plot with nothing more than a scrapbook and a few old photos. “We have no real
evidence they’re doing anything strange to these kids…”

“That’s why we need to get to Gabrielle,” Fox said. Her eyes sparkled with animation and Henry could see the passionate determination behind her cool exterior.
“They’re still holding her in that medical centre, I’m sure of it. She’d never sign up for the programme of her own free will. It must have been her parents forcing her into
it. If you and Christian can just get in to see her… Get her to talk about what’s been going on—”

“Wait a minute,” Henry interrupted. “What do you mean
me and Christian
? You’re not coming with us?”

Fox gave an embarrassed look. “I’m…uh…kind of banned from setting foot inside the Malcorp complex.” When Henry looked at her questioningly, she continued,
“I staged a little protest outside the main gates a few months ago.”

“About the medical centre?”

She shook her head. “Malcorp has been buying up businesses all over Newton for years. Every shop on the high street is owned by them. We’re just about the only independent left and
every month they send their suits along, trying to pressure us into selling.” She coughed. “And I might have thrown a balloon filled with red paint at Mallory’s
Rolls-Royce.”

Henry couldn’t stop himself from laughing, imagining the look on Mallory’s face as the paint bomb hit his expensive car.

“So I’m not exactly welcome in Malcorp any more,” Fox went on. “In fact, I think that fat security guard on the gate has orders to shoot me on sight.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about him,” Henry said. “Hank looks like he spends more time in the doughnut shop than he does at the range.”

Fox laughed at this and said, “You’re okay, Ward. I formally forgive you for acting like an ass before.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. So, you’ll do it? Christian’s got the key card, but he can’t go by himself.”

“Why not?”

Fox shrugged. “He’s scared. Wouldn’t you be?”

Before Henry could answer, the door to the bedroom opened noisily and a middle-aged woman in a wheelchair appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a dressing gown that had seen better days and
her greying hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. She looked at Henry and smiled.

“I thought I heard company.”

“Mom!” Fox said, rising from the sofa and going to her. “I thought I told you to call if you needed anything.”

“I wanted to see the guest!” the woman said, pushing the wheels of her chair so she scooted quickly across the lounge, almost colliding with Henry. “I’m Mary
Layton,” she said, extending a hand.

As Henry took her hand in his, he noticed that her skin was incredibly white and there seemed to be no weight to her. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Layton.”

“And it’s nice to see Fox making some friends. She never has anyone round any more…”

“Thank you!” Fox muttered under her breath. Henry wondered if her mother always called her by her nickname.

“I know it doesn’t look like it, but this used to be the most popular place in town,” Mary Layton said, a melancholy tone to her voice. “The cafe used to be full every
evening. That was before Malcorp started buying everywhere up – people don’t seem to go out so much these days.” She looked down at her legs. “And before I had
my…problems.” She reached out and touched her daughter’s arm. “Now Fox has to keep things going until I’m better.”

Fox smiled and touched her mother’s hand. “It’s okay, Mom.” She looked round at Henry. “We’re going to sort everything out. Right?”

He nodded, surprised to find that he really believed it when he said, “Yes, we are.”

Five minutes later, Fox led Henry down the stairs again and through the cafe to the door. Mrs. Layton had just finished quizzing him about his mom, where he’d lived
before and how he’d met her daughter. She seemed like a nice lady, but Fox had clearly been eager to get him out of there. As she was about to open the door she gave a sharp intake of breath
and stepped back into the relative darkness of the shop. She grabbed Henry’s arm and pulled him back too.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Trooper Dan,” she replied. A second later the police cruiser passed by on the street outside, crawling along the high street. Behind the wheel, Henry made out the cop’s head
turning left and right as he passed, scanning the sleepy town for any sign of trouble.

“Malcorp’s eyes and ears in Newton,” Fox said quietly. “It’s best he doesn’t see us together.”

Henry nodded and looked round at her. She was still holding onto his arm and they were pressed close together in the shadow cast by the window frame. Although the cruiser had passed, neither of
them moved.

“What’s wrong with your mom?” Henry asked.

“Multiple sclerosis,” Fox replied. “It’s a brain disease that attacks the nervous system. Mom was diagnosed six years ago. It comes and goes…”

“Your dad—”

“Left us just after she was diagnosed. Can you believe that? He’s got a new family now. But he does send a card at Christmas.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry said again, not knowing how else to respond.

“Yeah, so am I,” she said, her voice becoming hard and businesslike again. “Just get to Gabrielle and get us something we can use to shut down whatever Malcorp is up
to.”

“Okay.”

“Tell Christian
Project Alcatraz
is a go.”

With that, she pulled open the door and pushed him out onto the street. As it slammed behind him, Henry started back down main street, blinking in the afternoon light.

“I’m here to see Christian.”

The man who had answered the door was wearing a grey suit that looked crumpled from a day’s work, even though it was Saturday. The tie around his neck was loosened and the top button of
his shirt was undone. In one hand he held a glass of Scotch loaded with ice.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, I guess,” said the man, who Henry assumed to be Christian’s dad. He stepped back and Henry entered the lodge, which was
identical in construction to his own, except it was located on the other side of the complex.

“Christian!” the man hollered after taking a sip of his drink. “You have uh…a…friend to see you.” He looked round at Henry. “You
are
a friend,
right?”

Henry nodded. There was no response from within the lodge and the man shouted again. This brought the sound of a door slamming and movement from one of the bedrooms.

Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, Henry cast his gaze over the lounge and was surprised to see that one wall was devoted to a display of sporting trophies. Running, football, swimming
awards, they were all there – along with photographs of a confident-looking kid posing with various teammates and coaches, or caught in action on the sports field. For a moment he thought it
was Christian, but on closer inspection he saw that it was a different kid, although they looked remarkably similar.

“My eldest, Simon,” Christian’s dad said upon seeing Henry look over the trophy collection. “He’s at Yale on a rowing scholarship. Quite the sportsman. That’s
him with his football team a few years back.” He looked at the picture wistfully. “A real all-rounder. Do you play…uh…?”

“Henry. I swim.”

“Outstanding!” the man said with a little too much excitement. “Outstanding! Maybe you could get Christian involved. It would be nice to see him do something other than lounge
around on the couch for once.”

There was an embarrassed cough from the kitchen doorway and Henry looked round to see Christian’s mother standing there. Her hair was tied back in a neat bun and she was wearing an apron
smeared with flour. She looked like something out of a black and white sitcom.

“Christian just hasn’t found his sport yet,” she said softly.

His dad snorted and took a hefty swig of Scotch. “Well, it’s about time he did. Too bad he doesn’t have more of his brother’s gumption…”

“Don’t embarrass Christian in front of his friend, dear!” she said, looking daggers at her husband.

He chose to ignore this and turned to Henry. “You’re a sportsman, Henry. You know what I’m talking about. A young man needs an outlet for his energies! Christian’s
problem is…”

He stopped in mid-sentence, realizing that his son had appeared in the doorway leading through to the bedrooms.

“Don’t let me stop you, Dad,” he said. “Why don’t you tell him all about what a disappointment I am compared to Simon the super-athlete? Henry may as well know.
Everyone else does.”

Christian’s dad looked as if he was about to snap back in response, but then he merely shrugged and walked to a bar in the corner to fix himself another drink. Christian turned his angry
gaze on Henry.