The exchange calmed her down a little – at least they were still communicating.
She’d been up for hours last night thinking about what Sylvain had said and how badly she’d behaved towards him. The way he’d left her the perfect opportunity to say she chose him over Carter and she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Why couldn’t she just say it? He’d taken her by surprise but… still. Why couldn’t she just tell anyone how she felt?
Zelazny stood by his desk at parade rest, his pale eyes surveying the class shrewdly.
Pulling her notebook from her bag, Allie tried to act normal. What if Zelazny knew they’d been in his room? And God – what if he knew they’d accused him of being the spy?
The thought made her shudder. She waited, so nervous her hand trembled when she picked up her pen and drew shaky prison bars and a gigantic lock on the paper in front of her.
But then Zelazny just… taught the class. They were studying the battle of Austerlitz and he picked up precisely where the replacement teacher had left off without a word of explanation or apology for his absence.
At first, Allie waited for the axe to fall, and for Zelazny to call her out. Accuse her of looking through his bedside table, the box under his bed. But as time went by, she realised that wasn’t going to happen.
Slumping down low in her seat, she prepared to take sparse notes and bide her time until she could talk with the others about this development.
But the lesson was surprisingly interesting. As Zelazny explained the battle between Napoleon and an overwhelming coalition of British, Russian and Austrian troops, she found herself absorbed.
‘Napoleon was a master strategist,’ Zelazny explained, drawing a quick map on the whiteboard. ‘He knew he couldn’t win by sheer force because he was outnumbered and outgunned. So he decided to create a trap.’
He wiped out part of his design on the right side and tapped it with his fingertip. ‘He intentionally weakened his right flank to draw the coalition forces in. His hope was they’d throw everything they had at it, thus confusing their troops and weakening their own defences. Once they were in place, Napoleon’s hidden forces would rush out and attack them.’
The history teacher drew a violent series of arrows swinging on to the board. When he turned back to face the class, he looked positively gleeful.
‘They never saw him coming.’
As Zelazny described the battle in gory detail, Allie pictured Nathaniel’s letter, stabbed to the wall of the chapel with a knife. What if that was something like Napoleon’s ploy? Make them so paranoid they begin to suspect each other. Wait until they’re confused and distracted. Then attack from the flank.
Zelazny was drawing more lines on the board. ‘With the coalition forces weakened, Napoleon prepared his troops to deliver the coup de grâce. Famously this is what he told his generals then.’ He wrote a sentence at the top of the board with such force the pen squeaked in protest. Then he stood back and looked out over the room.
The sentence read: ‘One sharp blow and the war is over.’
As she stared at those ruthless words, a sudden chill made Allie shiver.
What if that’s us?
After class, Allie met Carter and Sylvain in the corridor. It was lunchtime, and hordes of students rushed by them on their way to the dining hall.
‘What in the actual hell is going on?’ she asked.
Carter looked at Sylvain as if he would have the answer. ‘Raj Patel?’
Sylvain shrugged. ‘I guess so. He works fast.’
‘If Zelazny’s back do you think that means…’ Allie stopped as the realisation took shape.
‘What?’ Sylvain asked, a slight frown creasing his brow.
She shook her head. ‘Nothing. Don’t worry about it. There’s just something I have to do.’
Turning on her heel she started walking away but Carter called after her: ‘Aren’t you coming to lunch?’
Without stopping, she threw her answer back over her shoulder. ‘I’ll meet you down there later.’
Running against the tide of students, she took the stairs at speed and jogged down the long hallway. She was moving too fast to stop when she reached the English classroom and skidded around the corner, fairly flying through the doorway until a voice stopped her in her tracks.
‘Hello, Allie.’
Isabelle stood just inside the door, and she did not look happy.
‘Where have you been?’ Allie could hear the hurt in her own voice.
One part of her wanted to cry. Another – needier – part of her wanted to hug the headmistress. But she did neither. Instead she stood alone, arms at her sides.
‘As I understand it,’ Isabelle said, drawing out each word, ‘you know perfectly well where I’ve been. And I would like to ask the questions right now, if you don’t mind.’
‘Actually I do mind.’ Allie lifted her chin stubbornly. ‘How could you just go away and leave us alone? How could you do that? We’ve had to deal with all this on our own. And now you show up again and you want explanations? What? Was this all some kind of test?’
If Isabelle was surprised by Allie’s anger she didn’t show it; her leonine gaze was steady, cold. ‘You went into Mr Zelazny’s private rooms —’
Allie wouldn’t let her finish. ‘And found what you were looking for, yes. You’re welcome.’ She rested her hands on her hips in a defiant posture. ‘Anything else you want to thank us for? Warning the students their parents were on Nathaniel’s side? Giving them a chance to make their own decisions? Thinking on our feet? Being innovative? Doing your jobs?’
‘Enough.’ Isabelle’s powerful voice rang out in the empty room. ‘You’ve made your point. Now sit down. I have a lunchtime workshop scheduled and the students will arrive in a few minutes.’
Allie hesitated a second – she could, after all, just storm out in protest – but she really wanted to hear what Isabelle had to say.
With reluctant slowness, she lowered herself on to a nearby seat.
Placing her hands flat on Allie’s desk, Isabelle lowered her gaze to hers. ‘What you did – invading Mr Zelazny’s private space – was in complete violation of The Rules. You had no right to take it upon yourself to do that. If he ever found out what you did I don’t like to think what his reaction would be. If Lucinda found out you’d be lucky to still be at this school.’
Allie exhaled a long, relieved breath – Zelazny didn’t know. They hadn’t told him.
The rest – Isabelle’s lecture – didn’t really matter. She’d known all that when she walked through Zelazny’s door.
‘What was he doing with the key?’ Allie asked, searching Isabelle’s fine-boned face for clues. ‘Have you asked him? Is he the one?’
The headmistress closed her eyes for a second as if summoning strength. ‘Allie, you must let us handle this – this is what we do.’
Her voice fairly crackled with frustration but Allie refused to back down.
‘You didn’t even know he had the key —’
‘We did know.’ Isabelle’s voice rose. ‘And the key is now back in the book again. Please, for the love of God, leave it there.’
TWENTY-SEVEN
Disbelief made it impossible for Allie to speak for a moment. She couldn’t seem to get her brain to function.
‘You… you… what?’ Allie stuttered in shock. ‘I… I don’t…’
‘Understand? No, I don’t suppose you do.’ Isabelle smoothed the dark blonde hair which had begun escaping from her hairclip; as if her rage had been transmitted to her hair follicles. When she spoke again, her voice was more controlled. ‘Allie, Raj and I are investigating all the people who could be Nathaniel’s spy. All of them. And we have been for months now. We know everything in everyone’s rooms down to the tiniest speck of dust. Down to the fingerprints on their books. And the earplugs in their bedside tables.’