LEITH AND THE LURKING EVIL
Chapter 11: The Photograph

“SMILE FOR AUNTIE MUT!”

Flash.

Mavis blinked, recovering from the flashburst as a grinning Mut went merrily on her way.

The mess hall was crowded and rowdy. I’d slept like the dead after escaping from Headless Henry last night. If I dreamt, I can’t remember about what. But probably the subject was sabotage.

I knew now that Adam had been right. There were things going on here, not just secretive and strange, but dangerous ... and, by the look of it, turning deadly.

I felt a tight ball of anger in my belly. What if Jane died?

What if it had been Pippa on that rope?

I felt sick. No way would I be able to eat breakfast. But I had to talk to Mavis. She was the only adult I could trust. Unlike Dr Grieg and the counsellors, she didn’t stay here overnight. At the end of the day, Mavis went home. Mavis escaped. She could get the word out.

I thought about asking her to sneak me out in her car. But I doubted Pippa would agree to something so underhanded, even if she did believe my tale, and there was no way I’d leave her behind.

While I waited in line, I checked out the place: Mut had gone; no sign of Ant - good. The puny kid who’d rearranged Ray’s face was sitting at a table with the pigtailed girl who’d been photographed yesterday by Mut. They were both silent and expressionless, chewing their food like it was so much mush.

It seemed to take forever for the line to move. I would tell Mavis about Adam and Jane and Dr Grieg’s mysterious trip to the Black Bungalow. I would get her to tell the police. I hoped she’d believe me. She had to - I’d make her believe me.

“Hi, sweet cheeks - what can I get for you today?”

“The police.” My voice was a husky whisper.

Mavis looked at me like I’d just told her Elvis was standing behind her. Then, very slowly, she smiled. “Wait just a minute there, sugar-pie - my cooking may not be great, but it’s not that bad!” Planting plump fists on ample hips, she threw back her head and laughed.

“Mavis, I’m serious - please.”

“Please? Well, it’s nice to hear a young person using some manners these days - but I thought you said police---”

“Shhh! They’ll hear.”

“They?” She looked around.

“Last night, I went to the Black Bungalow in the forest to meet a guy who reckons there’s all kinds of bad stuff going on here - and Dr Grieg turned up, holding the biggest needle you’ve ever seen - and then I was chased by Headless Henry - and the guy I’d gone to meet was Adam Python---”

Mavis squeezed my hand. “Take care, sweet cheeks. Watch your back. I’ll see what I can do.” Then, in a big bluff voice, she continued: “A double helping? Well, you must have done a lot of running in your dreams last night! All growing boys need lots of good home cookin’!”

“Morning, Mavis.” I heard Ant’s flat, mechanical greeting.

“Hi, Ant,” I said, turning around to face him.

“Something the matter?” he asked. His eyes darted back and forth between Mavis and me.

“Maybe out there,” she said, “but not here in MavisWorld!” She made a funny face.

I smiled.

Ant nodded. “Good.”

“Still,” I said, feeling uncomfortable as he continued to stare at me, “maybe we should come up with a few problems around here - you know what they say, it’s the squeaky wheel that gets the grease!”

Ant smiled. “Dr Grieg’s an inventor, remember. Around here, breakfast-buddy, it’s the squeaky wheel that gets replaced.”

I didn’t taste a thing as I sat there waiting for the right moment.

Until I realised that there wasn’t going to be a right moment, so I just got up and did it anyway. That is, headed for a pay phone (as unobtrusively as possible), hearing the change in my jeans jangling like a thousand alarms as I ambled out into daylight, checked once more to make sure that I was unobserved, and reached for the receiver.

“Help! I’m at Camp Damble - where a girl was nearly killed yesterday, swinging on a rope that had been cut---”

That’s what I would have said, if the line, when I put the receiver to my ear, hadn’t been dead.

The phone next to it was dead too. There were a couple of others scattered about the grounds. But I knew it would be useless. All the pay phones had been gotten to. Just as most of the people had.

And letters disappeared. Ropes were sliced. Welcome to Camp Damble!

Adam knew what he was talking about. Getting away from here was not just a matter of leaving - you escaped. And very few, it seemed, ever got the chance.

Well, I was going to. I knew there had to be at least one phone that worked around here - the one in Dr Grieg’s office ... and I was going to use it.

I listened outside for a minute and, hearing nothing, knocked twice to make sure he hadn’t returned from breakfast. For a little man, he knew how to strap on the feedbag, so I figured I had plenty of time to make the call and get out safely. But with men like Dr Grieg, you could never be sure.

Once inside his office, I pushed that funny remote-control (which seemed to consist of dials and buttons with references to circuits, chips, currents, conductors, microwaves, all kinds of stuff that made me think it must be for the world’s biggest and coolest TV) out of the way and sat on the corner of his desk, picking up the telephone. I sat facing the door.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a line.

I was halfway through dialling when the doorknob started to turn.

It was the man himself - Dr Grieg, along with Mut and Ant.

I scrunched myself up in a ball under his desk and hoped none of the three seated sets of legs that surrounded me would feel the need to stretch or kick. If they did, it was game over.

Dr Grieg wore highly polished boots complete with “lifts” to make him look taller; Mut and Ant had on standard athletic shoes which looked so white, they might have been brand new. That was the thing with those two - they never showed signs of wear or tear. They never seemed to sweat or strain or get tired; maybe that wasn’t the way they wanted to go at Camp Damble - let’s hear it for perfection!

“Things,” said Dr Grieg, “aren’t going badly, now that the ... situation has been ... contained.”

“Uh huh,” mumbled Mut.

“Let’s hear it for containment!” enthused Ant.

I rolled my eyes. This guy was the ultimate suck-up. Just what the egocentric Dr Grieg wanted. Let’s hear it for yes-men!

“Yesterday’s hiking skirmish was nicely handled. Well done, both of you. I don’t think young Jane will be so critical of our policies and procedures when she resurfaces.”

Mut chuckled. She sounded like a small dog choking on a bone.

“Thanks, boss,” said Ant.

“The enemy is under wraps. We are winning.” Dr Grieg’s little feet went back and his legs stood up. Mut and Ant followed suit. They moved toward the door.

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” asked Dr Grieg in a slightly chiding voice.

“Oh,” smiled Mut. “The photograph.”

“Mavis,” chimed in Ant.

“Our rogues’ gallery will soon be overflowing, though alas it may never be complete - just like poor Headless Henry.”

“Let’s hear it for completion!”

“Don’t blow a gasket, Ant,” said Dr Grieg. “Now that my former partner is back in the fold ...”

“Soon your work here will be finished,” said Mut, her voice rasping with what I took to be an attempt at emotion.

“As soon as my work is finished here ... it will simply begin somewhere else. Then somewhere else. And so on. Over and over. Until ... well, you know what they say - no rest for the wicked.”

“Let’s hear it for wickedness!”

Dr Grieg guffawed, and as the three of them filed out into the hall, I felt a chill rise up my back.