Raven's Gate

asked.
    Richard shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. After you left the office, I thought about some of the things you’d said. It all sounded pretty stupid, to tell the truth. But there were parts of your story… Well, I couldn’t get them out of my head. And I had nothing else to do.”
    “So you went to look at Omega One?”
    “Let’s just say I happened to be passing.”
    “You knew where it was?”
    Richard nodded. “The man who built it still lives in York. He was a scientific adviser to the government back in the sixties but he’s retired now. Name of Michael Marsh.”
    “Did you meet him?”
    “About six months ago. He got a knighthood from the Queen and I had to do a story about him. He’s an unbelievably boring man. Lives in a big house near the river. He collects matchbox labels. If the worst comes to the worst, I may give him a call and we can go and see him. He may be able to help.”
    “So you decided to visit Omega One in the middle of the night…”
    “It was on the way home from the pub. What’s the big deal? I was near by so I thought I’d drive past. And then I heard someone shouting for help and that was how I found you.”
    “That’s not possible.” Matt thought back. “I didn’t shout for help.”
    “I heard you.”
    “I may have yelled once. But I didn’t even hear your car. You were suddenly just there.”
    “Maybe you shouted without realizing it, Matt. I mean, you were panicking. You were probably out of your mind. I know I would have been.”
    “How fast were you driving?”
    “About fifty. I don’t know.”
    “Were the car windows open?”
    “No.”
    “Then even if I had shouted, how could you have heard my voice? It’s not possible.”
    “You have a point,” Richard admitted. “But then how do you explain that I swerved off the road in exactly the right place and came straight to you?”
    “I can’t,” Matt said, in a quiet voice.
    “Look, I heard someone. All right? I pulled over and there you were, up to your neck in—” He broke off. “You’re just lucky I hadn’t decided to stay for another pint. But now you’re here, maybe you should tell me a bit more about yourself.”
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t even know your full name. You say your parents are dead but you never told me how you ended up living with this woman … Mrs Deverill.” Matt looked away. “You might as well tell me now,” Richard went on. “It might help me work out what we’re going to do.”
    “Are you going to put me in the newspaper?”
    “That’s the general idea.”
    Matt shook his head. “You can forget it. I don’t want anyone writing about me. I don’t want anyone to know about my life.”
    “I think you’re forgetting something, Matt. You were the one who came to me. You told me you had a story…”
    “I needed your help.”
    “Well, maybe we need each other.”
    “I don’t want to be in the papers.”
    “Then you shouldn’t be in my flat.” Richard put down his can of beer. “All right,” he said. “That’s not fair. I’m not going to throw you out. Not tonight, anyway. But to be honest with you, I don’t really need a fourteen-year-old in my life. So I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Tell me your story and I promise I won’t publish it until you say. OK?”
    “That’ll never happen,” Matt replied. But he nodded. “All right.”
    Richard reached for a notebook and a pen, just as he had when they first met at the newspaper office. He sat, waiting.
    “I don’t really know where to start,” Matt said. “But since you asked, my full name is Matthew Freeman. I was sent to stay with Mrs Deverill because of something called the LEAF Project.”
    “The LEAF Project?” Richard had heard the name before. “Isn’t that one of the government’s big ideas? Some sort of crazy scheme for dealing with juvenile offenders?”
    “That’s right. That’s what I am. I was arrested for breaking into a warehouse. A man got stabbed.”
    “You stabbed him?”
    “No. But I was there when it happened. I was to blame.” Matt paused. “Maybe now you won’t be so keen to help me.”
    “Why not? I don’t give a damn what you’ve done. I just want to know why you did it.” Richard sighed. “Why don’t you try starting at the beginning? You may find it easier.”
    “All right.” Matt didn’t want to do this. His social worker, Jill Hughes, had always tried to make him talk about himself.
“You have to take responsibility for who you