The Bully Chip Page 8

  Cain looked horrified. He shook his head. “None of it. But I wouldn’t have done that. You have to believe me.”

  Callum took a deep breath. “We do. It’s not your fault.” He tried one last question. “I don’t suppose you can tell us the name of the school you were at before Thanxton High?”

  Cain’s brow furrowed. He suddenly beamed. “I can do better than that. I can take you there.”

  Callum, Sophie and Jinx arranged to meet Cain outside the bus station at eight am the next day. Cain told them he had some long overdue homework to sort out first, and then offered to organise a car and driver to take them to their destination.

  Callum visited his gran that evening. There was no change in her condition and the doctors were preparing her for the heart holter monitor test. He didn’t stay long as Rose was tired, and it upset him to see her so vulnerable. He also felt bad about keeping his current problems from his grandmother. They’d always had an open and honest relationship and he hated deceiving her. Callum knew he was doing the right thing by stopping Rose from worrying, but it still felt wrong. He returned to Sophie’s house, feeling down. Callum did his best to cheer up and waited for Sophie to take his wheelchair away.

  She had requested some time with the Thunderkit. There were some “improvements” she wanted to make, and Callum knew better than to argue with her.

  Jinx came over while Sophie was in her workshop. He helped Callum assemble everything they would need for the following day’s mission. So far they had collected binoculars, an iPad, energy bars, sun hats, a Swiss Army knife, slingshots, a camera, Sophie’s homemade listening devices and a kazoo. (Jinx’s suggestion. He thought it would be brilliant if they needed to distract someone. Callum was sceptical.)

  They laid everything on the bed, and Jinx declared them ready for anything.

  As they were admiring their equipment, Sophie brought back the Thunderkit. At first glance her changes weren’t obvious; although Callum noticed that the chair felt heavier. All he could see was a new blue button on the side of the left armrest.

  “What’s this?” said Callum as his finger hovered over the button.

  Sophie grabbed his hand. “You’re not allowed to push it yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I ran out of time and haven’t had a chance to test it,” she said grumpily. “Anything could happen.”

  Callum was intrigued. “What’s it do?”

  “I’m not telling you until it’s working properly. So, no fiddling.”

  Callum held up his hands. “Okay, I get it. No button pushing permitted. Jeez, Soph. You sound like my gran.”

  “Thanks, that’s lovely,” muttered Sophie. She looked over the gear Callum and Jinx had prepared and nodded. “Good job, boys. Just one question.” She picked up the kazoo. “Whose stupid idea was this?”

  The next morning Callum, Jinx and Sophie stood waiting outside the train station, the early morning sun shining in their eyes. Sophie wore the backpack they’d prepared the previous evening.

  She took out her phone and pointed to a text. “I got that before bed last night.”

  It was from Lucy. The text said Lucy had a new phone, gave her new number and told Sophie that she’d arrived home safely. Callum smiled; it was good news to start the day with.

  At ten past eight a long black limousine, with heavily tinted windows, pulled up beside them. Jinx and Sophie helped Callum into the back seat, then collapsed his wheelchair and put it in the boot.

  “This is a bit fancy, isn’t it?” said Callum when the others joined him.

  The plush seating was divided into three. The first seat ran behind the driver’s screen, a second long seat spanned the right-hand length of the car and the last seat was against the rear window. Callum and Jinx spread out on the lengthways seat and Sophie took the rear.

  Cain had a seat to himself behind the driver’s window, where he could see them all. He gave a reassuring smile. “I wanted to make up for the way I treated you guys. Besides, my parents can afford it.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Cain. The chip made you act the way you did,” Sophie said as she settled into the soft leather.

  “True,” replied the boy. “But I still feel bad about it.”

  Cain tapped a smoked glass partition that separated the driver from the rest of the vehicle and the car pulled smoothly away from the kerb. All Callum could see of the chauffeur was a blurry smudge.

  Jinx pushed a button on his armrest and a video screen lowered from the car roof. “Sweet,” he said. “This car is well cool. Your parents must be loaded.”

  “Suppose so,” replied Cain.

  “What do they do?” asked Callum.

  Cain shrugged his shoulders. “Something to do with international banking. I don’t really know. They’re never around to ask.”

  The car fell silent. Jinx pushed the TV button again and the screen withdrew into the roof. He pushed another button and music blared into the car. He jabbed the button once more, but only succeeded in increasing the volume. After several more random pokes Jinx finally found the off switch and silence returned.

  “Jinx?” said Callum. “Will you please stop mucking about?”

  The red-headed boy muttered a quick “sorry” and folded his hands in his lap.

  Sophie suppressed a grin. It was great to have Jinx back.

  Callum spoke to Cain. “What was the name of this school again?”

  “Sethel Stymer.”

  Sophie took the iPad out of her backpack. “Can you spell that?”

  “It’s S E T H E L then S T Y M E R. Weird, eh! I guess it was named after the school founder.”

  Callum slid to the end where Sophie sat and watched as she typed the words on her tablet. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Sophie started shifting the letters around. “Nothing really, just playing. There’s something about the name that’s familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Send our new friend a text. It might jog her memory.”

  Sophie nodded, took out her phone and did as Callum suggested. Callum slid back to his seat and the rest of the trip passed pleasantly with everyone contributing good-natured banter about some of their least-favourite teachers. Cain provided them all with soft drinks from a fridge under his seat. Jinx continued fiddling with the buttons in the back of limo until he found a game to play on the television screen. Callum watched the countryside roll by outside his window and Sophie worked on her tablet.

  After a while they turned off the main road and drove down a long, winding driveway. Farmed paddocks separated by low stone walls were on either side of the road to the school. A smattering of cows grazed in the pasture but livestock was all Callum could see; there were no houses.

  Callum wondered why the school was so remote. He glanced over at his friends. Sophie tapped away on her iPad and Jinx had fallen asleep. Callum returned his attention to the window. He could make out the school buildings just ahead. The school and the walls that surrounded it were made of stone. It looked like a converted country mansion, a curious mixture of grandeur and neglect. Parts of the facade had been redone in shiny new limestone blocks, but Callum could see that several of the outlying buildings lay in a state of disrepair. The grounds reflected the appearance of the school. Several well-mown sports pitches were flanked by overgrown hedgerows and uncared-for fields.

  This was perfect. Callum and Jinx would be able to observe the school from cover and Sophie could creep up close to the office building and set up her listening devices without discovery.

  As they neared the gate, Callum saw several groups of students moving between the buildings. They were dressed in black uniforms with the school insignia – two blood red letter Ss – etched into the jackets.

  A flash of sunlight caught Callum’s eye. He looked closely and realised the walls bordering the school were topped with razor wire.

  Security’s a bit over the top, he thought. He suddenly had a bad feeling about their mission.


  He spoke urgently to Cain. “Tell the driver to drop us off on this side of the gates.”

  Cain gave him an odd smile. “Oh, don’t worry, the driver can hear every word you’re saying.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A gasp from Sophie distracted him. “I think I know,” she said, a tremor in her voice.

  Her tone alarmed Callum. “What’s wrong, Soph?”

  Before she could answer, the partition that separated the driver’s compartment from the rear of the car fell away.

  “Oh, I think that irritatingly smart girl has just worked out who the founder of Sethel Stymer Preparatory School is,” said the driver in a chilling voice. He turned to them. His odd-coloured eyes flashed and his lips curled to reveal his sharp teeth.

  It was Lester Smythe, the brain sucker.

  The driver’s partition shot back up, the car doors locked with a loud clank, and the car accelerated past the gates, heading directly to the school offices.

  Callum felt his stomach churn.

  Lester was the evil genius who had been hell-bent on stealing the world’s goodness until Callum, Jinx and Sophie had stopped him.

  Last time they met, the man had tried to destroy Sophie’s brain and had attempted to kill all of them. Callum had left him adrift in shark-infested waters just off the coast of the city. That had been more than a year ago, and he hadn’t been heard of since. All three kids assumed he was dead.

  Callum glanced at Sophie and saw panic in her eyes. “How did you know?” he hissed.

  “I’ve been playing around with the spelling of the school name, just to see if anything interesting came up. I discovered this.”

  Sophie turned the pad around so Callum could see it. Written in large letters on the screen was LESTER SMYTHE – an anagram of SETHEL STYMER.

  “What do we do now?” she said in a trembling voice.

  “We’ve got to get out of here.” Callum nudged the sleeping red-headed boy beside him. “Jinx! Wake up. We’re in trouble.” The boy didn’t stir.

  Cain spoke. “That won’t work. I drugged his drink. He’ll be out for hours. The boss didn’t want his bad luck ruining this little reunion.”

  Callum rounded on him. “What do you mean ‘the boss’?”

  The boy’s lips curled into a smug grin and he relaxed back into his seat.

  “Oh, I work for Lester. Always have.”

  Callum and Sophie looked at each other in amazement.

  “But we burned out your chip,” gasped Callum.

  Cain laughed. “I never had one.”

  “But you changed. When we poured water in your ear, you were different.”

  “It’s called acting.” Cain put on a fake voice. “What’s going on? I feel so strange.” His voice returned to normal. “When I realised you knew about the chips, I decided to go along with it, to see what you did. It’s been fun actually.”

  “So what happens now?” growled Callum.

  The car screeched to a halt. Cain’s smirk widened. “It looks like you just enrolled in bully school,” he said.

  Eleven

  As soon as the car stopped moving, two massive men stepped out of the administration block and hurried to the vehicle. Callum recognised them instantly. The man in the lead was Darryl Yarmouth, a huge bald thug. Callum could see the material of his shirt stretched tightly over muscles the size of small dogs.

  The second man was almost as big. His hair hung from his head in long, thin dreadlocks, like dark octopus tentacles. His name was Parson Richie.

  Both men were hired thugs and had been working for Lester when Callum, Sophie and Jinx destroyed his operation the year before. Callum knew their welcome wouldn’t be a friendly one.

  Lester departed the limousine first. He unlocked the car then strode into the office building without so much as a backwards glance.

  Darryl wrenched the door open and hauled Callum roughly from the limousine.

  “Come here, you,” he grumbled as he plucked the boy from his seat with the same ease as he would have picked an apple from a tree. He took Callum around to the rear of the car, retrieved his wheelchair from the boot and dumped him unceremoniously into it.

  Callum didn’t struggle. There was no point when you were up against a man the size of Darryl. Callum had learned that the best way to combat brawn was with brains, and he was already calculating his next move.

  Sophie took a different path. She bit Parson’s hand as soon as he reached for her. The big man howled in pain and withdrew for a second before plunging back into the limousine for another attempt. He grabbed Sophie under her arms and swiftly pulled her struggling form out of the car. As she was removed, Sophie’s flailing feet caught Cain a vicious blow to the side of his head. The boy recoiled in pain.

  “Get your filthy hands off me,” she screamed at Parson.

  “Keep still,” said the lanky man. He crushed her body against his chest with one arm and drew a wooden baton from his belt with the other.

  He growled at his captive. “If you don’t stop bitin’ and kickin’, I’ll use this.”

  Sophie calmed down. It was clear from the look in Parson’s eyes that he meant what he said.

  Parson put the baton back into his belt and withdrew a thin, double-looped plastic handcuff band. He slid one loop around Sophie’s wrist and pulled the tab tight. He dropped her on the ground, dragged her over to Callum’s wheelchair then secured the second loop around the tubing on the Thunderkit’s seat. Sophie pulled at the bonds. She was tightly bound to the wheelchair, with no obvious means of escape.

  Cain exited the limousine, glaring at Sophie and rubbing the side of his head. His ear glowed red and had started to swell. The boy snarled. “You’ll pay for that kick.”

  The glower Sophie gave him in return was equally fierce. “You deserved it. We trusted you and you betrayed us. I’d give you worse if I wasn’t in handcuffs.”

  Parson chuckled. “I’d like to see that.”

  Cain flushed with anger and embarrassment. He approached Sophie, his hand raised to strike her.

  Parson grabbed his wrist and shook his head. “Boss wants ’em undamaged. For now.”

  Cain wrenched his hand from Parson’s grip. “Another time,” he spat at Sophie.

  He rounded on Callum. “Where’s Lucy?” he demanded.

  Callum said nothing.

  Cain called to Darryl. “Any sign of her?”

  The big man shook his head. “Nope, she wasn’t there when I got home and I haven’t seen her since. Enough yapping, the boss is waitin’.”

  Darryl walked to the limousine, reached inside and pulled out Jinx. He threw the unconscious boy over his shoulder and headed up the ramp to the school offices. Parson took control of the Thunderkit and shoved Callum and Sophie after Darryl. Cain closed the car door and strode along behind them.

  Lester waited alone in his office. It was a gloomy room. The wood panelling on the walls was dark and the blinds on the windows were half-closed. He found that too much light hurt the mismatched irises of his eyes, the right one blue, the left brown.

  He rubbed his hands together with glee. He had waited for this moment for a long time and he was going to enjoy every second. It had been a massive blow to his ego to have had his brain-sucking plans foiled by a bunch of kids, and he was going to make them pay.

  Lester positioned himself behind his desk, adopted what he was sure was a threatening sneer, and waited for his captives to be brought before him.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes Cain and his henchmen arrived with Callum, Sophie and Jinx.

  He watched as Parson parked Callum and Sophie against the wall.

  “Cut the girl free,” he commanded. He wanted there to be no doubt who was in charge.

  Parson did as he was told. He withdrew a large serrated hunting knife from a pouch on his belt, sliced through the plastic handcuff on Sophie’s wrist then dumped her on a chair next to the Thunderkit.

  Darryl laid Jinx’s comatose b
ody on the ground beside his friends.

  Once their tasks were completed, the two thugs stood on either side of the doorway, ensuring that the only way out of the room was directly past them. Cain stood next to the men.

  Lester surveyed his hostages with a superior smile on his lips. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you,” he said.

  “The feeling isn’t mutual,” replied Callum.

  Lester revealed his sharp teeth. “No, I’m sure it’s not. I imagine you’re quite surprised to see me alive.”

  “I am,” acknowledged Callum. “Last time I saw you, you were about to be eaten by a great white shark.”

  “It tried, as you can see,” Lester stroked the ugly semicircular scar on his face. “Fortunately for me, I didn’t taste very good. Nor did the smoke bomb I stuck in its mouth. I managed to get away while the other sharks fed on their brother.” He paused to allow for a response. When nothing was forthcoming, he continued. “I imagine you’re wondering why I brought you here.”

  “Not really,” said Callum, with more calm than he felt. “I assume you’re going to try to suck the goodness out of our heads again.”

  Lester laughed. “Good heavens, no! Brain sucking is so last year. I don’t try to remove people’s goodness any more. I’ve moved on. Now I enhance their badness.”

  Lester opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a small jet-black microchip. It was as thin as camera memory card and about half the size. Lester’s double-S school logo was burned on the face. The opposite side contained hundreds of minute electronic dots and code lines. He held it aloft for Sophie and Callum to see.

  “Introducing the world’s first bully chip,” said Lester with a flourish. “Naturally, you’ll be dying to know how it works, so I’ll tell you.”

  He looked at Sophie and was pleased to see that the girl was hanging on his every word, though she was trying not to show it. He wanted her to be impressed. It would make the next part of his plan so much easier.

  Lester continued, revelling in his own twisted genius. “The operation is really quite simple. The chip is attached to a thin fibre-optic surgical cable. It slides through the aural cavity and is then joined to the frontal lobe of the brain. That’s the section that controls behaviour, emotion, physical reactions and personality. The chip is partially organic so it will cling onto the exterior of the lobe like a limpet.”