Necropolis

those words. With a sense of frustration, I felt myself being sucked away. There was someone leaning over me. A member of the cabin crew.
    "I'm sorry I've had to wake you up," she said. "The captain has put on the seat belt sign."
    I looked at my watch. We still had four more hours in the air. Richard and Jamie were asleep, but I knew I wouldn't be able to join them. I took out my notepad and started writing again.
    Four hours until London.
    Soon we will be home.
    THIRTEEN
    Crossing Paths
    Scarlett thought she'd be safe, back at school. She'd slip back into the crowd, and nobody would notice her. After all, nothing exciting ever happened at school. Wasn't that the whole point? So, for the first time in her life, she found herself looking forward to the next Monday morning. There would be no bombs, no strange men in cars, no cryptic messages. She would be swallowed up by math and history and physics, and everything would be all right.
    But it didn't happen that way.

    Shortly before lunch, she was called into the headmistress's office. There was no explanation, just a brief: "Mrs. Ridgewell would like to see you at twelve fifteen." Scarlett was nervous as she climbed the stairs. In a way, she'd been expecting trouble ever since the trip to St. Meredith's. She had been the center of attention for far too long and for all the wrong reasons. Her work had gone rapidly downhill.
    She'd been told off twice for daydreaming in class. And then there had been that terrible math test. The teachers had already decided that all the publicity had gone to her head, and Scarlett fully expected Mrs.
    Ridgewell to read her the riot act. Get your head down. Pull your socks up. That sort of thing.
    But what the headmistress said came right out of the blue.
    "Scarlett, I'm afraid you're going to be leaving us for a few weeks. I've just had a phone call from your father. It seems that some sort of crisis has arisen…"
    "What crisis?" Scarlett asked.
    "He didn't say. He was very mysterious, if you want to know the truth. But he wants you to join him immediately in Hong Kong. In fact, he's already arranged the flight."
    There was a moment's silence while Scarlett took this in. There were all sorts of questions that she wanted to ask, but she began with the most obvious. "Has this got something to do with what happened to me?"
    "I don't think so."
    "Then what?"
    "He didn't say." Mrs. Ridgewell sighed. She had been at St. Genevieve's for more than twenty years and it showed. Her office was cluttered and a little shabby, with antique furniture and books everywhere. A Siamese cat — it was named Chaucer — lay asleep in a basket in a corner. 'You haven't had a very good term, have you, Scarlett?"
    "No." Scarlett shook her head miserably. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ridgewell. I don't know what's going on, really. Everything seems to have gone wrong."
    "Well, maybe we should look on the bright side. A complete break for a few weeks might do you good.
    I'll ask your teachers to prepare some work for while you're out there —and, of course, we're going to have to recast the Christmas play. I have to say that it is all very inconvenient."
    "Didn't he say anything?"
    "I've told you everything I know, I'm afraid. I thought he would have discussed it with you."

    "No. I haven't heard from him."
    "Well, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. He told me he'd call you tonight. So you've just got time to say good-bye to your friends."
    "When am I leaving?"
    "Your flight is tomorrow."
    Tomorrow! Scarlett couldn't believe what she was hearing. Tomorrow was only a few hours away. How could her dad have done this to her? He hadn't mentioned anything when they were in the Italian restaurant. What crisis could possibly have arisen so quickly?
    Scarlett spent the rest of the day in a complete daze. Her friends were equally surprised, although the truth was that she was beginning to get a bit of a reputation. She was weird. First the church and now this. She didn't even get to see Aidan. She looked for him on the way home and tried texting him, but he didn't reply. Mrs. Murdoch had already heard the news. She had started packing by the time Scarlett got home. And she didn't seem pleased.
    "Not a word of warning," she muttered. "And no explanation. What do you suppose I'm meant to do, sitting here on my own?"
    Paul Adams called that night as he had promised, but he didn't tell Scarlett anything she wanted to know.
    "I'm really sorry, Scarly." His voice on the line was