“Powers could be the only chance I have of getting to the Fence. I told you I have to find him.”
“And I told you—no!” I sighed. “You could have found someone else to do it for you.”
Snape shook his head. “There was nobody else. It had to be you, laddie. You’re thirteen, and you’re smart. And the trouble is, we don’t have much time.”
“Time?” I almost laughed. “Well, I’ve got plenty of time. Eighteen months . . .”
Snape shook his head again. “I’m afraid not. You see I’ve just got the latest psychiatric reports on Powers.”
“And what do the psychiatrists say?”
“They don’t say anything. They’re too frightened to be in the same room as him. They won’t go anywhere near him. He’s violent. Homicidal—”
“I noticed.”
“—and he’s getting worse. Any day he could crack up altogether. After that he’ll be useless to me. A vegetable . . .”
“I don’t get the problem,” I said. “It’s never stopped you working with Boyle.”
At least that finally wiped the smile off Boyle’s face. He lumbered toward me, his hands outstretched.
“No, Boyle,” Snape sighed.
“I’ll kill him . . .”
“No!”
“I’ll say it was an accident,” Boyle pleaded. “I’ll say he was resisting arrest.”
“How can he be resisting arrest when he’s already in prison?” Snape demanded.
Boyle had no answer to that. He went off to sulk in the corner.
“What was that you were saying about violent and homicidal?” I asked.
Snape glanced at his deputy then turned back to me. “You have to get the name out of Powers while he can still talk,” he said. “One name. That’s all we want.”
“And what if I refuse?”
He shrugged. “Then you’re here for another seventeen months and thirty days.”
“Wait a minute . . . !”
“No. You wait a minute, laddie.” Snape leaned across the table. “Only two people in the world know that you didn’t really steal the Woburn Carbuncle. Boyle and me.”
“What about the security guards?”
“You’ll never find them. We got you in here. Only we can get you out. But if you refuse to cooperate . . .” He left the sentence hanging in the air. Right then I’d have liked to have seen him hanging in the air beside it.
I stood up.
“The Fence,” I said.
“Get close to Powers . . .”
“Close?” I cried. “If I got any closer we’d be sharing the same bed.” I took a deep breath. Snape had beaten me and he knew it. “All right,” I said. “You win. I’ll find out what you want to know. But if you don’t get me out of here . . .”
“Relax.” Suddenly Snape was all smiles again. He dug a hand into his pocket and pulled something out. He threw it down on the table. “Have a bar of chocolate on us, laddie,” he said. “Boyle bought it for you. Thick and nutty.”
“Yeah.” I gazed at the two of them and sighed. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
Powers was waiting for me when I got back to the cell. He was rolling a cigarette. A chocolate one.
“So who was it?” he asked.
“The police,” I said. I’d been practicing my answer on the way. “They just wanted to ask me more questions.”
It was the first time I’d lied to Johnny Powers and he almost seemed to sense it like a dog scenting blood. He looked at me curiously, the skin under his eyes tightening. But he didn’t say anything. Not yet. Sometime later the lights went out. There were no good-nights. Nobody came to tuck me in. The darkness just cut in without argument. And that was all.
My first night in Strangeday Hall. I undressed and climbed onto the top bunk, pulling the rough blankets and even rougher sheet over me. The pillow was as soft as cardboard. There was a full moon that night, spilling in through the window. A perfect square of light perched on the wall, cut into sections by the black shadows of the bars. In the distance, a plane screamed through the sky.
I lay there for an hour. I couldn’t sleep. There was only one way out of this mess, and the sooner it started, the better. Cursing Snape, I opened my eyes.
“Powers?” I said.
“Yeah?” He sounded wide-awake, too.
“I just want you to know . . . I really admire you. I read about you in all the papers. I always hoped I could join up with you.”
“Is that so?” I couldn’t tell if he believed me. His voice was cold, empty.
I swallowed and went on. “When I stole that jewel . . . I had a slingshot in my pocket. Like your gang—the Slingshot Kids.”
“We never had no slingshots.”
“Sure, Powers. But I couldn’t afford a shotgun. That’s why I was stealing the jewel.” There was no answer. “I’d have gotten away if you’d been there. And then we could have sold the jewel. It was worth thousands. The only thing is, I didn’t know who to sell it to. What would you have done, Powers?”
There was a long silence. I didn’t even hear him get out of bed. But a second later he was standing up with his head close to mine, the moon dancing in his eyes.
“Listen, Diamond,” he said. “I don’t know ya and what I don’t know I don’t trust. Maybe you’re on the level. If not, ya’ll end buried underneath it. Know what I mean?”
He stared at me. There was still something of the choirboy in his face. But it was a choirboy who would burn down the church sooner than sing in it.
“Ya want some advice?” he said. “Act like a shirt.”
“Like a shirt?”
“Yeah. Button it.”
Then he was gone. I turned over and shut my eyes. But the sun was already rising before I got any sleep.
INSIDE
Three weeks after I’d arrived at Strangeday Hall, Tim sent me a cake. He’d made it himself with eggs, flour, sugar, a hint of ginger, and a Black & Decker electric drill. The drill was buried in the middle. I guess it was his idea of the Great Escape. He needn’t have bothered. Hiding a drill in a cake wasn’t such a bad thought, but he could have put it in there after he’d baked it. By the time it came out of the oven there was as much cake in the drill as there was drill in the cake. And he forgot to enclose a bit.
Mind you, it was about the only good joke in the first month. There I was, surrounded by some of the toughest thugs and heavies in the country—people who would break your arms as soon as look at you. And that was just the guards. Most of the inmates were okay, although I did have an unfortunate run-in with a pickpocket. I didn’t have any money, of course. But he stole my pockets.
What can I say about life on the inside? Perhaps you’ve heard that phrase “a short, sharp shock.” Well, Strangeday Hall was more of a long-drawn-out surprise. It was the only juvenile prison in England like it. And I can tell you now, I didn’t like it at all.
Up at six in the morning. Lukewarm showers—or stone-cold if Luke had forgotten to turn them on. Breakfast: a mug of tea, two slices of bread, and one slice of porridge. Then work until lunchtime—in the library, in the laundry, or in the classroom.
