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
She scrubbed off make-up she’d worn for the interviews and tried to de-stress in the bath. She made a cup of tea, deliberately not asking her dad if he wanted one, even though he was at the kitchen table pretending to read Drone Monthly. Then she took the mug up to her room and had it on her bed with the chicken sandwich.
Her phone buzzed as she squashed the triangular packet and uneaten crusts into a ball.
Gerard calling.
‘This is a rare honour,’ Georgia answered sarcastically.
‘You’re coming to the Red Parrot meet tonight, aren’t you?’ Gerard asked.
‘For sure,’ Georgia said. ‘What are you after?’
‘How do you know I’m after something?’
Georgia laughed. ‘Of all the people I’ve ever met, you’re the least likely to call and ask how my day went.’
‘How did your day go?’ Gerard asked.
‘What do you want?’ Georgia asked back.
Gerard cracked a supervillain laugh. ‘I’ve been tinkering with the drone I bought off your dad. Does he still have his workshop down the road?’
‘Dad signed a personal guarantee,’ Georgia sighed. ‘We’re stuck renting that workshop until someone buys the lease. And, so far, my dad has made zero effort to sell the lease, even though it’s costing a thousand a month …’
‘Serves him right for being a capitalist swine,’ Gerard said, with no irony. ‘I need more motors, a control board and some of the 3D-printed parts for his impeller kits.’
‘Message me a list,’ Georgia said. ‘It’s no biggie. I have a key and its five minutes from my house.’
‘I also need you to give me two hundred pounds,’ Gerard said.
Georgia scoffed. ‘You can shove that idea where the sun doesn’t shine …’
Gerard’s tone darkened. ‘I heard about the D’Anger deal you signed. You’re minted. I need to buy different props and things. The way the drone is now, it’s impossible to fly.’
Georgia found this unlikely. ‘It’s a survey drone, designed to potter around looking for corroded power lines or cracked roofing felt. Any idiot can fly them …’
‘Wrong,’ Gerard said bluntly. ‘Your father’s design is weak. It’s probably why he lost the Metro Powerlines contract …’
Georgia tutted. ‘If you bring it to the Red Parrot, I’ll look at it.’
Gerard felt this was absurd. ‘Why would you know anything I don’t?
‘You’re a biologist with a big brain, but no common sense,’ Georgia said wearily. ‘I’ve been flying drones since infant school.’
FORTY-ONE
After an hour’s study time and a splat of shepherd’s pie that left him craving Orisa’s pepper soup, Julius crossed the school grounds to an annex with art, drama and cookery rooms.