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
Miles thought for a few seconds. ‘I’ll start making calls. I can have the paperwork ready by this evening. It’ll take five working days to lodge the power of attorney, and I can set up Julius’s bank accounts while we’re waiting. Once we have the power, we’ll need to move fast, in case your uncle gets tipped off by a bank letter or a bounced payment. If all goes well, you’ll have your uncle’s money in two weeks. Two and a half, tops.’
‘I was planning to fly home sooner than that,’ Julius said. ‘Immigration might be after me.’
‘I’ll fix you up,’ Miles said. ‘I know a golf resort that’s quiet out of season, and it’s the last place anyone would look.’
‘Makes sense,’ Julius said, smiling.
‘I like the idea of the hotel,’ Georgia said longingly. ‘Somewhere nobody will come looking.’
‘Come with,’ Julius grinned. ‘You’ve got all that book money coming.’
To Georgia’s surprise, her dad was nodding too. ‘It’s not a bad idea. At least until the press are off our backs …’
SIXTY-EIGHT
Georgia had spent thirteen nights in a room at Rushton Lodge, a luxurious golf resort and spa close to Cheltenham. She regularly played snooker with Julius in the hotel’s deserted lounge and currently led the all-time score twenty-eight frames to nine.
She’d eaten nice food, chilled in the infinity pool, baked in the sauna, developed a taste for hot-stone massage and done the first two interviews with the journalist who’d been picked to write her life story in time for the Christmas gift market. And when the pampering got too much, Georgia pushed herself on long, muddy runs through the surrounding countryside.
But Julius and Georgia knew their lives were only on pause.
Over a late breakfast in the dining room, Julius took a call from Miles to say he’d be visiting with final paperwork. When Georgia got back to her room, someone from the front desk had set a package on the bottom of the bed.
She sliced parcel tape with the resort-branded letter opener and got an overpowering whiff of plastic from the air that had been trapped inside. When she tipped the box, cellophane-wrapped packs slid across the bed and crushed her soul.
A striped tie, white school blouses, black skirts, black tights, a shiny PE shirt with a school logo. The nylon blazer and pleated tartan skirts were stuck in the bottom and needed a thump before they dropped out, speckled with packing peanuts held by static.
‘Ugh,’ Georgia moaned.