Public Enemy Number Two

“I wanna ask ya something,” Powers said suddenly.

“What is it?” White said.

“Who put ya up to this?” Powers demanded. “Who sent ya the gun? I’d just like to know.”

“Who do you think?” White asked. There was a pause. “Big Ed.”

“Big Ed?”

“Yeah. He figured it’s time you kinda left the scene. Permanently. Know what I mean?”

“Well, whaddya know?” Powers muttered. “Big Ed . . .” But then he stopped. I could hear another sound now, even louder than the pipes. It was a distant whine getting louder and closer by the second.

A plane was coming in to land. And time had just run out for Johnny Powers.

“Here it comes,” White said. “Say your prayers, Johnny.”

I reached for the towel, picked it up, slapped it against the hot tap. Even with the wet material, I could feel the metal burning underneath. The showers might have been lukewarm for us, but right now they were white- hot.

I glanced at the pressure gauge. The needle had passed right through the red section and was trying to find a way out on the other side. The whine of the plane had become a roar. Clutching the tap through the towel, I turned it as fast as I could.

Then everything happened at once.

There was a great hiss as the water rushed through the taps. All the showers sprang into life at once, boiling water spraying out in all directions. The pipes rattled and shook like they were trying to tear themselves out of the wall. Steam filled the room, a sudden impenetrable fog.

“What the . . . ?” White began.

Then one of the showers exploded, the head shooting across the room like a bullet. Steam and water bellowed out in a jet.

The plane was right overhead now. The whole building was vibrating. There was a gunshot. Even at that close range I hardly heard it. Then a second shower blew itself apart, unable to bear the pressure. Blondie screamed, his face disappearing in a blast of white heat.

I’d wrapped the towel around my face and I was on my knees, crawling underneath the swirling clouds. I couldn’t see anything. I could hardly hear anything. The pipes were slamming against the wall in a frenzy. Three more showers exploded. Burning water cascaded onto my back.

“Johnny!” I called out. My voice was muffled by the towel. Then there was a splat of fist against flesh and a figure flew through the mist, crashed into a cubicle, and slumped beside me. It was White. He was out cold—about the only thing in the building that was cold. He no longer had the gun.

Then somebody else lurched out of the steam on all fours. This time it was Powers. Miraculously, he didn’t seem to have been burned.

“Good work, kid,” he said. There was a glimmer in his eyes and he was smiling. I couldn’t think of anything to say. He was actually enjoying all this.

It was over as quickly as it had begun.

The plane flew past. The pipes buckled, broke, then fell silent as the pressure went down. Water, suddenly cold, splashed down on the concrete floor. Somewhere in all the steam, McNeil groaned. White and Blondie lay still, their bodies vague outlines in the haze. Powers and I crawled back to the door and stood up. Somehow I found the presence of mind to pick up the mop and bucket. I gave Powers the mop. Together we walked back across the yard. The guards didn’t try to stop us.

That night, back in the cell, Powers asked me why I’d saved him.

“I told you.” I shrugged, trying to make nothing of it. “I admire you. I wasn’t going to let those creeps put a bullet in you.”

Powers stood up, holding out a hand. I shook it. “Ya’re all right, kid,” he said. “Ya’re okay.”

That was as close as he could get to saying thank you. But I was satisfied as I went to sleep. I’d become his friend, just the way Snape wanted. Surely it could only be a matter of time before I was out of Strangeday Hall.

It was only a matter of time—although things didn’t happen quite the way I’d expected. But then, when did they ever?

OUT!

The day after the attack in the shower room, Powers got a letter. We received letters twice a week, but only after the prison warden had censored them. If he didn’t like a sentence, he simply took a pair of scissors and cut it out. I got one letter from Tim that more or less fell apart in my hands. It began Dear Nick, and ended Your big brother, Tim. The rest was just holes apart from the single word “peacock,” which I found screwed up at the bottom of the envelope. Well, at least that told me he was still looking for the lost Ming vase. Unless, of course, by some miracle he’d already found it.

The letter Powers got had come through uncut. He read it three times, concentrating on every word. Then he paced up and down the cell for an hour. By now I knew enough not to ask any questions. If Powers wanted me to know something, he would tell me. At last he turned around and walked over to the table. “I’m getting outta here,” he said.

“Out, Johnny?” I didn’t know what to say. “How come?”

“Read this.” He pushed the letter into my hands. I read it.

Johnny,

Bad news, I’m afraid. Grandpa’s in emergency care, dear. They’re talking of another operation. Kingston Hospital is ready now, but Grandpa’s last operation wasn’t very successful. Everyone is really upset.

Caroline and Oliver got married in Edinburgh yesterday. He’s an optician, and marvelous with eyes. We’ll all miss them.

No other important news.

Take care.

Yours ever, Ma

I finished the letter and glanced up. Powers was staring at me, waiting for me to speak. “That’s bad,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“I mean you must be worried about your granddad, but I don’t see—”

“My granddad died ten years ago.” He snatched the letter back and spread it out on the table. “Ya don’t understand,” he went on. “Ma and me have this secret code.”

I read the letter again, but still couldn’t see it.

Powers jerked a thumb toward the page. “Ya take the first letter of every other word. That way ya get the real message.”

I read the letter for a third time, starting with the B of “bad.” And at last it made sense.

BIG ED TAKING OVER.

COME HOME AT ONCE.

“Big Ed,” I muttered. I’d heard that name only the day before. He’d been the one who’d sent White and the others to deal with Powers.

“Ya can cut London into four slices,” Powers explained. “North, south, east, and west. There’s a gang for each slice . . . like, ya know, we got a gentleman’s agreement. The east was my territory until I got slammed up