The Adjusters (18 page)

Henry burst out laughing. The teacher’s head swivelled to look at him.

“Something funny, Mr. Ward?”

“Well, Hamlet’s uncle was a murderer,” Henry said, aware of heads turning in his direction. “He killed his father. Right?”

“There was no evidence of that,” Stacy snapped at him.

“The ghost told him,” Henry said.

“Don’t you think that sounds a bit delusional?” she countered, turning back to the teacher. “Hamlet needed to accept the authority figures in his life. Then there might
have been a happy ending.”

Heads nodded all round. On the other side of the class, Steve said, “It’s like kids who run around breaking into places they shouldn’t.”

There were sniggers around the room. Henry reddened.
Had everyone in the school received Mallory’s memo?

The teacher smiled at Stacy and Steve. “Well done, both of you. You’ve clearly understood the morals of the play very well. It has a clear message that we’re happier when we
accept the given rules of the place where we live.” He was looking directly at Henry as he said this. “Some people try their best not to fit in – like Hamlet. If only he’d
worked with his uncle rather than against him.”

“He shouldn’t have gone poking around in business that didn’t concern him,” Stacy added.

“That’s right,” the teacher agreed. “Because what happens at the end of the play?”

“Everyone dies,” Steve said, and looked round at Henry with a grin.

The teacher turned to face him also. “Henry Ward. Do you agree?”

“Uh,” said Henry, well aware that every single student in the class was looking at him now. Their faces were expressionless, but their eyes were all the same: judgemental, almost
predatory, waiting for him to say the wrong thing. The room felt suddenly suffocating. He had to get out. Henry reached down and grabbed his bag from under his seat. “I have to go…to
the toilet…”

The teacher began to protest, but Henry was already through the door and running along the deserted corridor towards the nearest exit. And he almost made it…

“Henry!” a familiar voice called out as he reached the door. He looked round to see Blake approaching down the corridor with the quarterback and several others from his crowd.

“Hey,” Henry said, trying to sound casual. There was a hardness to Blake’s features that he hadn’t seen before. “What is this? Uniform patrol?”

“I heard about your break-in at my grandfather’s medical centre Saturday night,” he said. “I guess you think you’re pretty smart, huh?”

Henry shook his head. “No, it’s—”

Without warning, Blake struck out with his fist, catching Henry across the jaw. There was enough force behind the blow to send him staggering back against the door. He hit the frame and lost his
footing, landing clumsily on his backside. Behind Blake, the members of the football team laughed and high-fived one another.

“That’s for the kid whose operation you interrupted,” Blake spat, fists still clenched. “Johnny’s a friend of ours!”

Henry struggled to his feet. “Blake, I—

Blake shook his head in disgust and held open the door. “You haven’t got many friends left around here, Ward. Maybe you ought to think about cleaning up your act.”

Henry wiped a hand across his mouth. His fingers came away bloody. Shouldering his bag, he started towards the exit.

“There’s nowhere to run,” Blake called after him. “Your friend’s been fixed and you will be too!”

Henry stopped and turned round slowly. “What was that?”

Some of the confidence drained from Blake’s face, as if he knew that he’d spoken out of turn. “Just get out of my school until you’ve sorted out
your…attitude.” He started backing away. The other boys did the same.

“What’s happened to Christian?” Henry demanded. “Where is he?”

Rather than respond, Blake merely turned and walked off around the corner, closely followed by his gang.

“Answer me!” Henry demanded, his voice echoing through the deserted halls of the school. There was no response. Henry kicked the wall in frustration. “Crazy sons of
bitches!” he cried aloud, before taking a breath and composing himself. Getting mad wasn’t going to solve anything.

Mallory was a liar after all. And Christian was being held…somewhere.

He ran to the main door and pushed through into the daylight outside, headed for Newton.

Like the coach had said, it was time to start listening to his gut.

The house stood alone at the end of a track that was easy to miss from the main road. Few of the residents of Newton, even those who had lived there since long before the
arrival of Malcorp, knew of the place. And newcomers to the town were sure to miss the track, which meant that Trooper Dan’s residence was practically hidden from the
world…silent…forgotten…

And that was exactly how he liked it.

Except on that morning, the giant cop wasn’t enjoying the peace and seclusion so much. He was suffering one of the splitting headaches that plagued him from time to time and with
increasing frequency. The bottle of pills prescribed to control the brain aches was empty, as he’d found out when he shuffled to the bathroom following yet another sleepless night.

He’d managed to get into his uniform in a haze, and then staggered downstairs to the kitchen to start preparing his usual breakfast of bacon, sausage and three eggs. He didn’t get
any further than the kitchen table, where he slumped with his head in his hands for what seemed like a very long time.

The headache was so bad, in fact, that he didn’t even hear the car pull up out front until its door slammed as someone emerged. Rising from the seat at the table, Trooper Dan removed his
Magnum from the holster on his belt and moved to the hall, taking aim at the door as it opened…

Dr. Chancellor stepped through. Being confronted by a man aiming a gun directly at them would startle most people, but the doctor barely reacted. She gave Trooper Dan one of her stern looks.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He lowered the weapon and stumbled back through to the kitchen as she followed him down the hall. “I have a headache,” he said as he retook his seat.

Chancellor placed an old-fashioned leather doctor’s bag on the table in front of him and removed a pencil light from her pocket. “Is that a reason to shoot anyone who walks through
the front door?”

“You didn’t knock.”

Dr. Chancellor shone the light in his eyes – first the left, then the right. “Have you been feeling dizzy again?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been the taking pills?”

He slammed his fist on the table so suddenly that the doctor actually jumped this time. “Yes, I’ve been taking them, dammit! And I ran out two days ago. If you’d brought my
prescription on time I wouldn’t have this headache…”

“Shhh,” Chancellor stroked a hand through his hair. “So much going on in Dan’s poor little skull.”

He looked away from her. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“I was very busy at the clinic. You forgive me?”

“Do you have my pills?”

Chancellor smiled and reached into her bag. “Yes. And something else. A special treat because you’ve been such a good boy.”

Trooper Dan looked round at her. “What is it?”

Chancellor removed a syringe and a glass bottle filled with a clear liquid. “Something to make you feel big and strong again. And very little pain. The effects should last for a few days.
Roll up your sleeve.”

He did as he was told as she poked the needle through the top of the bottle and filled the syringe. The doctor wiped his arm with an antiseptic swab and positioned the needle over the vein.
“There’s something we need you to do for us.”

“What?” the trooper asked, eyes locked on the syringe.

“A kid has been causing trouble around the complex. We think he is linked to the girl from the coffee shop. You know who I am talking about?”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

“We need you to keep an eye on them. Find out what they are up to. You understand?”

Trooper Dan clenched and unclenched his fist. “Yes, goddammit. Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot.”

“And if the girl is poking her nose into Malcorp business…”

Dr. Chancellor slid the needle into his arm and depressed the plunger. Trooper Dan’s eyes seemed to go completely black and his fist slowly unclenched.

“…Mr. Mallory wants you to talk with her.”

“Talk with her,” the cop repeated, his voice distant as a numbing sensation overtook the pain coursing through his skull. For the first time in hours he felt relief. Then he felt a
sudden surge of energy – his old power returning. He grinned.

Chancellor removed the syringe, wiped the broken skin clean with the swab and stroked his skull once more. “That’s a good boy. Do as you are told and I will bring all the medication
you could ever need.”

“I could ever need,” Trooper Dan repeated.

Chancellor took a bottle of pills from the bag and placed them on the edge of the table. From beneath the floor there came a thudding sound.

“What is that?” the doctor asked as she picked up her bag.

“Huh?” Trooper Dan asked distractedly as the sound came again. Then his eyes snapped back into their usual focus as the drug kicked in, sharpening his senses. “Oh, just some
reporter I caught snooping around. He actually stopped on the road to ask me for directions to Newton. That was a real bad decision on his part, don’t you think?”

“What are you going to do to him?”

Trooper Dan’s face became deathly serious. “Take a wild guess.”

“Mr. Mallory wants a report on the girl before you take action,” Chancellor said. “Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good. See you soon, Dan. If the headaches get worse, give me a call.”

Dr. Chancellor walked from the kitchen. Trooper Dan sat motionless, listening to the slam of the front door, then to the sound of her car as she drove away. Then the thudding from the basement
distracted him again.

“Okay, okay,” he said, rising from his chair. “I’m coming.”

He walked across the kitchen and opened a door. Stone steps led down into the basement, which was in darkness until he flicked the light switch on the wall.

The reporter was where Trooper Dan had left him at the bottom of the stairs – tied to a chair with a piece of tape over his mouth. He was a middle-aged guy who was just fat enough to be
called overweight. His cheap grey suit was covered with dust and flecked with blood here and there. He’d managed to topple the chair to one side and was now lying on the floor, squirming
around in an effort to get free.

“What are you doin’ on the floor?” Trooper Dan asked. “Didn’t I tell you to sit still?”

The reporter made muffled sounds as the cop walked into the centre of the basement, grabbed the back of the chair and hauled it upright with one hand. The reporter looked at him with wide,
desperate eyes. Trooper Dan leaned forward.

“I’m gonna ask you some questions, mister,” he said in an altogether different tone from the one he’d used with Dr. Chancellor. His accent was thick once more – the
epitome of a small-town sheriff. “And you’re gonna give me the answers or we’re gonna have a fallin’ out. You hear me?”

The reporter nodded his head frantically.

“Now the first word I want to hear out of your smart city mouth when I take off this tape is the name of your contact in Newton. Understand?”

Another nod. Trooper Dan reached to tear the tape off, but stopped as something buzzed in the inside pocket of the man’s jacket. The cop reached inside and removed a cell phone. He flipped
the front and a text message opened up.

Where r u? Waiting at coffee shop – Fox

“Hmmm,” Trooper Dan said and snapped the phone shut. He smiled broadly at the reporter. “Well, looks like I don’t need you after all.” He reached behind his back
and removed a hunting knife from a sheath concealed on his belt.

The reporter’s eyes widened even further as he saw the blade. From beneath the tape he gave a muffled scream.

“Ouch,” Henry said as Fox dabbed his split lip with a wad of cotton wool soaked in antiseptic. She looked at him like he was being a baby and continued to clean the
cut.

“You have a real way with people, Ward,” she said. “Is there anyone at Malcorp who doesn’t want to punch you out?”

Henry clenched his jaw and said nothing. He might have reminded the girl that it was because of her and Christian that everyone wanted to punch him out in the first place. He was sitting in the
room above the cafe, having run all the way from Malcorp High. To his surprise, Hank the guard hadn’t given him any trouble when he had passed through the main gate in the middle of a Monday
morning, but that didn’t mean his movements wouldn’t be reported back.

As Fox continued to clean the cut, his gaze fell upon an easel in the corner. An oil painting was in progress – it was of Newton’s main street. Shoppers with thin, distorted bodies
were walking along it. The odd thing was they all seemed to be peering directly out of the picture. Somehow, it reminded Henry of the way all the kids had stared at him in the playground.

“I just started it the other day,” Fox said. For once there was a note of shyness in her voice. “I probably won’t finish it…”