Chapters (88)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dear Reader …
- Also by Robert Muchamore
- PART ONE
- Walter J Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- PART TWO
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART THREE
- Walter J. Freeman Adolescent Mental Health Unit – East Grinstead, UK
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- PART FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- EPILOGUE
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- Have you read KILLER T?
- 1 SLASHED RUBBER
- 2 NOT HARRY POTTER
‘Thank you for coming on,’ Kirkwood told her. ‘The protest at Parliament tomorrow is trending in a big way. My daughter is in year twelve and all her friends are going.’
‘Really?’ Georgia said, finding it ridiculous that she’d become a spokesperson for a political campaign she barely understood. ‘My nan absolutely loves you. Would it be cheeky if I asked you to do her an autograph?’
Kirkwood seemed flattered and quickly scribbled on a yellow script note:
To Georgia’s nan,
Keep an eye on that headstrong granddaughter!
Kirkwood Rowley
Wendy was waiting outside the studio’s soundproof door as Kirkwood began reading the headlines.
‘It’s like you’ve been doing that your whole life!’ Wendy said brightly, giving Georgia a kiss and hug before an assistant led them out of the building. ‘I love the angle about Sophie! It makes you seem so authentic. Now we’re off to Sky, and I’ve set you up a Twitter account …’
TWENTY-NINE
Tuesday third period was maths. Julius raised his hand, blurting that he’d eaten something bad and desperately needed the toilet. The teacher tutted, but Julius clutched his sides.
‘Sir, I know the rules, but I really must go!’
Classmates divided between those jeering and saying he was faking, while others yelled diarrhoea and begged the teacher to ship him out before he sprayed the floor.
‘Go,’ the teacher snapped. ‘But do not make a habit of this.’
‘Sorry, sir,’ Julius said, leaving his bag, because taking it would be suspicious.
He raced to his locker and grabbed another bag from inside. Then he cut into a stinking toilet block, where a slender janitor in camel-coloured overalls stood mopping. When he saw Julius, he backed into the large disabled cubicle and they spoke quietly.
‘Show me the thirty thousand.’
Julius had the stack of notes folded in his school trousers. Teachers at St Gilda’s earned respectable salaries, but unskilled staff were recruited from the slums behind the girls’ school and thirty thousand was two weeks’ wages.
The janitor gauged the amount of money by eye, before dipping into his trouser pocket and taking out a freshly cut brass key.
‘I will lose my job,’ the janitor warned as he waggled the key. ‘You must behave decently if you are caught?’
‘I’ll just say I found it,’ Julius said. ‘You had no problem with the shed key you got for my cousin, did you? And you know my family is powerful. There was no investigation.’
Julius then walked swiftly across soggy playing fields towards the girls’ school and cut left. His exit was down a puddled path to a gate the groundskeepers used for deliveries.