Jackson still wanted to drive to the Hamburg airport. Jan insisted he must simply keep driving and avoid the airport. “I’m sure there’re several ways to get to England. I don’t know how serious the people are who are trying to get that document, but it’s unlikely they can cover all the ways we can get to London. Still, I think we’re safest if we stay in the car. At an airport or train station, it would be possible for just one man to watch for you. In the car, it would take a whole crowd to check all the places we could cross, all the roads we could be on.”
Jan shook his head. “We need to figure this out, to decide on the best way. Help me here. How should we do that?”
Jackson grinned. It felt like forever since the last time he’d done that. “I thought you were in charge.”
“Yeah, but I’m not against getting outside advice. Like from an old man like you.” He grinned as well, and some of the tension in the car was softened.
“Well,” Jackson said, “when I want to know something, I Google it. You don’t have a cellphone, do you?”
“I think people here call them mobiles, and no, I don’t. Where would I get the money to have one of those? But we need a computer, and in Europe, that’s easy. We have cybercafes. Often, they’re in coffee shops or diners. They have computers for the public to use for a small fee. We’re going to need lunch soon, and that’s where we should eat, in one of those places. We’re on the A1 now and the signs say Bremen’s ahead. We can eat in a cybercafe and you can research the best ways to get to London.”
They found a cybercafe when they reached the outskirts of Bremen, and Jackson sat down in front of an available computer. He was much more experienced with one than Jan, and he started researching how to get from Bremen to London. He was surprised at the number of choices he had.
“We can drive there using the Chunnel,” he said, “or fly from any of several airports, or take any one of many ferries. What do you think?”
Jan gave that some thought. “I think we’ll be better with a car than without one, so either the Chunnel or a ferry. Why don’t you check how long it takes for the ferry crossing and also how long it would take for us to get to the tunnel? I think it would be best if we got to London in the evening, found a place to stay, then started looking for your brother tomorrow. That sound okay to you?”
“Sounds good. And I can find all the times easily and even make reservations for the ferry if we decide to take one. Go order food for lunch, and I’ll do this.” He handed Jan some euros. He’d been given krones, euros, dollars and pounds by Tom Asher, his handler, and he was carrying the bulk of them in a money belt. He watched Jan get in line for food, then went to work on the computer.
When Jan brought a tray of food back to the computer, Jackson got up and they moved to an empty table. “I’ve reserved a spot on a ferry from The Hook of Holland to Harwich,” Jackson told Jan. “It’s a six-and-a-half-hour trip. The drive from Harwich to London takes another hour and a half. There are only two ferries, one leaving in the morning and one at 11 PM at night. I reserved a place on today’s late one. We can sleep on the boat and be in London in the morning, ready to tackle finding Tyler.”
Jan chewed and swallowed before replying. “Sounds good to me. Now, I want to learn more about London and the Prime Minister and anything that might be good to know that could help us. I think we can do that best in London. I know we can find things on the internet if we go to a cybercafe, but we’ll be in London early, and a good place to stop till later in the day might be at a library. That way we can both look up things. So, find out where there’s a library we can visit tomorrow morning. The rest of today we’ll spend getting to Hoek.”
> ( <
Jackson had time on the ferry to think. What he’d just gone through didn’t make sense. Jan’s reasoning did make sense, but why was this happening? Jan said there was a leak, and people were trying to stop him from delivering the document he was carrying or confiscating it. So, who knew he had it? He didn’t know. He knew his handler did, and his boss at State. But they were the ones sending him to deliver the document. If they didn’t want it delivered, why send him off with it? Just keep it in Washington.
He decided it was most likely that only one of them was dirty. Otherwise, it was a conspiracy, and a conspiracy involving people high in the federal government seemed more fanciful than if it were only one person. So, one of them didn’t want the document delivered but couldn’t let the other one know that; he’d compromise himself if he did. But that thought didn’t get Jackson anywhere; it didn’t help him know who the culprit was.
The killing on the boat seemed over the top, somehow. But it had happened. It was sheer luck that he hadn’t been killed.
He realized he simply didn’t have enough information to figure this out. Keeping on going, actually making delivery of the document, still seemed the best way out of this mess.
> ( <
They left the ferry in Harwich and drove to London. They found the morning traffic terrible, and it didn’t help that Jackson had never driven on the wrong side of the road before. Jackson was wondering if they’d have been better off ditching the car and using taxis. Jan said they had better flexibility by keeping the car and asked why Jackson felt so rushed, anyway. They were safe, no one knew where they were, and he should relax.
They spent time in a library, Jackson looking things up about the Prime Minister in Who’s Who, Jan scanning the tabloids, especially The Sun and The Daily Mirror. He was shocked at what private things were aired in print.
They both found the same thing at the same time. Jan said, “Got it!” just as Jackson proclaimed, “He has a son.”
“Yeah, and not only does the Prime Minister have a son,” Jan said, “but he’s 15, and more importantly, he’s a Harrovian.”
Jackson asked, “What’s that?”
“Someone who goes to Harrow. Which is where Tyler goes. They might know each other! And the boy’s name is Edward. Edward Commoder. Son of Sir Malcolm Commoder, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. Why is it that it seems every third boy in this country is an Edward?”
“Really?”
“Well . . .” Jan laughed. “Probably not. Just that I’ve known maybe ten English boys, and three of them were Edwards.”
“That doesn’t prove anything. And what does it have to do with us?”
Jan laughed again. “You’re really tightly strung, aren’t you? Relax. This is going well. All we have to do now is find a way to talk to some boys who go to Harrow. They can help us get in touch with Tyler.”
“That might not be too difficult,” Jackson said. “When I was on the computer, I looked up Harrow. Didn’t see anything about the boys being Harrovians, but it did provide what they called a typical schedule for the boys’ days. They have an hour and a half off in the afternoons. Free time. And it said some of the boys use it for their own favorite activities, and some go into town. Shopping, eying the girls—you know, goofing off. I’ll bet if we show up in Harrow in the afternoon and find the sort of place boys would hang out, we can also find someone who’ll talk to us.”
> ( <
Late in the afternoon, Jackson and Jan were sitting at a table on a large patio in the town of Harrow. Many tables, many customers, many boys wearing blue jackets and grey trousers, white shirts and black ties. Each one was wearing a straw hat with a black band above the brim; Jackson thought the hats resembled the ones he’d seen in pictures of Amish men.
They’d seen boys dressed in their Harrow apparel walking in the town as they’d driven in, and then they’d spotted the restaurant with the outdoor seating. There were several groups of boys there, and Jan’s eyes lit up when he saw it. “That’s where we need to go,” he enthused. “It’s perfect.”
They found a table on the patio and studied the other tables where boys were sitting. They looked around, studying faces, looking for boys they thought were the right age. This was obviously a hangout Harrow boys frequented when they came into the town.
Jackson and Jan were particularly interested in a group sitting at a table across the way with three boys and an empty chair. They had chips and soft drinks in front of them and were talking loudly with some animated gestures. Overall, they were more boisterous than any of the other groups.
“They look like they’re 15 to me,” Jan remarked. “Not as worried- or uncertain- or repressed-looking as the younger boys, not as sedate and with the way-too-cool pretense of the older ones. Yeah, I’d swear they’re 15.”
“You’d have a better feel for that than I would.” Jackson shook his head. “They could be anything from 13 to 17 as far as I can tell.”
“Must be hell, getting old.”
“Hey! I’m 25! Far from old!”
“They’re my age,” Jan said adamantly. “At least I’m pretty sure. I’m going to go talk to them.”
“I should come, too. Tyler’s my brother.”
Jan frowned. “If an old man like you approaches those guys, even if I do all the talking, they’ll either blow us off or lie to us. They won’t tell us anything. Me, I’m young-looking, outgoing, and you said I’m cute. They’ll talk to me.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know yet. I operate best on the fly. It’ll depend on how they act when I walk over there. But I’ll try to find out if they know Tyler. I won’t ask about Edward. They’ve probably all been told not to discuss him with people from outside the school.”
Jackson had to consider this, but finally he nodded. “Okay. Good luck.”
There were probably twenty tables on the patio, some extending out onto the sidewalk. Fifteen were being used, and most of the patrons wore the distinctive blue and grey. Jan worked his way through the tables to the one they’d been observing, then pulled out the empty chair and sat down.
“Hey!” One of the boys took quick offense. “I’m sorry, but that seat is being saved.”
His tone of voice was that of an older boy speaking to a younger one, a voice that had the expectation of being obeyed.
“Hi,” Jan said, showing no intention of rising. “Sorry, but I won’t be here long. I need to talk to you guys. You’re all 15, right? Just like me. Kids our age have to support each other. Younger ones are useless, and older ones dismiss us. 15-year-olds against the world! And strength in numbers! Right?” He grinned at them. He was very good looking, and Jan had always seen how good looking kids got away with things less-appealing kids couldn’t.
Two of the boys grinned back; at least they had the beginnings of grins. The boy who’d spoken didn’t and in fact glowered at Jan. Jan spoke to him before he could challenge him further.
“I’m sorry. Really. But this is very important. I need your help. I’m looking for a student at Harrow, and getting in touch with him, well, it sounds crazy, I know that, I really do, but it’s a matter of life and death. All I need is a phone number, or a way to meet him. He’s an American and his name is Tyler Broke. Do any of you know him? He’s our age so probably in your year.”
“Why do you want him?”
The glowering boy wasn’t the one who’d answered. Instead, the boy who’d spoken was standing behind Jan. Jan hadn’t realized anyone was there.
Jan quickly stood up and turned around. And he had to control himself, stop himself from gasping. The kid behind him was beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. The hair Jan saw creeping out from under the ubiquitous hat the boy was wearing was a light brown, lighter than Jackson’s. His face was handsome rather than cute, and his deep blue eyes sparkled with intelligence.
The boy was taller than Jan, but Jan expected that because most guys his age were. Like many 15-year-olds, this boy looked about half-formed. He had a questioning smile on his face, and the voice that posed the question was characteristically American.
“You’re American,” Jan said. Then, “Tyler?”
The boy smiled, though it was a wry grin. “At your service. Who’re you, and why are you asking about me?”
“I’m Jan. Pedersen. Jan Pedersen.” Jan realized he was stumbling over his words and blushed. He couldn’t ever remember being so nonplussed by just looking at or talking to another boy his age. He hurried on. “I’m with your brother. He needs to talk to you. He’s right over there,” Jan finished and pointed to the table where Jackson was sitting.
Seeing Tyler, Jackson stood. But he stayed at his table, just watching. It had been years since he’d actually seen Tyler, but he had no problem recognizing him.
Tyler, though, was shocked. “He’s here?” he asked, showing his bewilderment.
“Yeah. Can you come over so we can talk in private? What he has to say has to be kept secret.” He turned back to look at the other three boys, who were staring at them, uncertain what they should be doing or saying.
Tyler nodded to Jan. “Sure, I’ll come talk to him.”
The boy who’d first spoken to Jan said, “Tyler! You want me to come with you?”
“No, I’ll be fine. But thanks, Jeremy.”
“We only have ten more minutes.”
“Okay. Wait for me; I’ll walk back with you guys.” After saying that, Tyler turned back to Jan, nodded at him and started walking over to where Jackson was waiting. Jan walked with him.
Tyler arrived at the table and stopped when he was facing Jackson. It was obvious neither boy knew exactly what to do. Shaking hands was way too formal and unnatural for them, and Jackson couldn’t remember them ever hugging. Tyler had always felt disappointed in Jackson for being so acquiescent with their father; he’d have liked the support his older brother could have provided him. But Jackson had never jumped in on Tyler’s side when there’d been a battle being waged. Now, Tyler simply stared at his brother, and Jackson stared back.
Jan took charge. “Sit down. Both of you. Jackson, Tyler only has a few minutes. He has to get back to school. So make it quick.”
Tyler smiled and said to Jan, “I have no idea who you are, but one thing’s obvious. You do know my brother.” Then he sat down. Jackson had taken his seat as soon as Jan had told them to.
When all three were sitting, Jan spoke. “I’ll cut to the chase. Tyler, your brother works for the U.S. government as a courier. He’s on the job now, on his way to delivering a classified document to the Prime Minister. Someone—or some ones—are trying to stop that. We’ve been attacked, almost killed. The reason we wanted to meet you is that we need help in getting to see the Prime Minister. We found that the PM’s son goes to school here, is in your year, and we thought maybe you knew him and could get him to talk to us, and he could arrange with his father to meet with us.”
Jan stopped and took a deep breath and grinned at Tyler. “Whew!” he said. “That was a mouthful, but it had to be done quickly. Do you know the PM’s son? His name is Edward.”
Tyler looked back and forth between Jackson and Jan. After a moment of silence, he focused on Jackson. “Do you talk?” he asked.
Jackson didn’t smile. With a steady voice, he said, “Of course. This is just awkward, that’s all. You and I, I mean. It’s been so long, and . . .” Not knowing how to go on, he just stopped.
“Yeah, I know,” Tyler said. Then he turned to Jan. “Yes, I do know Ted. He’s my roommate.”