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As it turned out, the headmaster’s schedule was as predictable as the menu in the dining hall. He paid no attention to the students as he walked back and forth from his office. But Meed had certainly been paying attention to him.
An hour after Gunich left the classroom, all footsteps in the corridor had stopped. The last doors had been closed. The only sound was the rattle and hiss from the metal radiators.
Meed slipped through the classroom door and tiptoed down the paneled hallway. The walls were white plaster with dark oak wainscoting. The floor was covered with lush Persian rugs. The rest of the school buildings were stark and utilitarian, but this was a showpiece, built to impress. The hallway was dark except for the dim security lights along the corridor. There was a large antique clock hanging on the wall at the far end of the hall. Thirty minutes until bed check. More than enough time.
The security camera at the end of the hall was static. An easy target, especially with the low ceiling. Meed pulled a laser from her pocket, stolen during a morning lab. It was a Class 3B model, not strong enough to blind the camera, just enough to cause a little distortion. Two or three seconds was all she needed.
The sensor was right below the lens, similar to a device she’d dissected that morning. Meed gave the sensor a quick blast with the laser, then moved along the edge of its coverage field. If anybody in the security office was paying attention to that specific feed, it would have looked like a minor glitch. Nothing to get alarmed about.
The heavy oak door to Kamenev’s office was set into an alcove, out of sight of the camera, but secured with an electronic lock. This part was easy. Meed had watched Kamenev open the door three times and memorized his finger positions on the keypad. One. Zero. Four. Six. Child’s play.
Meed turned the knob and pushed the door open. The air inside smelled of stale smoke and wood polish. The office was spacious, lined with heavy bookshelves. With her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Meed could make out the shape of a large sofa, a massive desk, and a wall filled with photographs. She recognized the faces, including her own.
In a corner near the desk sat a huge safe. It was a model she hadn’t seen before, but no matter. Her senses were tuned, and her confidence level was high. She rested her fingers lightly on the lock dial and pressed her ear against the cold metal door. She heard a rustle from the darkest corner of the room. Then a voice.
“I can save you the trouble.”
CHAPTER 20
MEED FROZE. SHE let her hand drop slowly from the safe dial, then turned her head to face the corner. A lamp clicked on. Lyudmila Garin sat slumped in a leather chair, her hands clawed tight around the wooden armrests. She was thin and wasted. Almost a ghost. In her lap was a thick manila folder.
“I knew it was just a matter of time,” she said. “I thought this might be the night.”
Meed thought carefully about what to say. Or not say. Obviously, she’d been caught in the act. No denying it. But if there was anyone she could trust not to turn her in, it was her devoted piano teacher.
Meed stood and stepped forward into the lamplight. “I’m sorry,” she said. “All I want…”
“I know what you want,” said Garin. “I have it right here.”
With a shaking hand, she lifted the folder from her lap and held it out. Meed took it. The spine of the folder was soft from handling, and the edges were frayed. The label tab contained what looked like a random combination of numbers and letters.
“What’s this?” Meed asked, pointing at the code.
“It’s you,” replied Garin.
Meed opened the folder and rifled through the contents. The records went back fourteen years. It was her entire history at the school, starting at the age of six months. In meticulous detail. Height and weight charts. Academic grades and reports. Records and transcripts. Athletic ratings. Intelligence and aptitude tests. At the very back of the folder was a page labeled “Entrance Assessment.” Attached to it was a small color photo of a baby in an institutional bassinet. A baby with bright copper curls. Meed felt the breath go out of her. She unclipped the picture and turned it to the light. She stared at it for a long time.
“You were distinctive from the start,” said Garin, managing a thin smile.
Clipped to the inside cover of the folder was another photo—a picture of a young man. The image was yellowed, like a picture from a history lecture. The man was posing proudly in front of a building under construction, with stones and lumber all around. Meed recognized the building. It was the one they were in right now. But she had never seen the man before.
“Who is this?” she asked. She held the photo out toward Garin.
“Your great-grandfather,” said Garin, her voice thin and hoarse. “A genius, in his own dark way. The school’s cofounder.”
Meed looked up, stunned and confused. The whole idea of relatives was foreign to her. The subject was never discussed, or even mentioned. None of the students knew anything about their families. And they had learned not to ask. “Wrong question,” was the rote response. Meed stared at the picture again, straining to make sense of the connection.
“The founder?” she asked, bewildered. “I don’t understand…”
“That’s why you’re here,” said Garin. “That’s why you were chosen. Your parents were not considered worthy of his heritage. You are.Youare the legacy.”
“What kind of legacy is that?” Meed asked. She didn’t know how much Garin knew. Or how much she would say. But she had years of questions boiling up in her brain, and she realized that she might not get another chance to ask them. Trembling, Meed closed the folder and clutched it tight with both hands.
“Tellme!” she said. “What’s all this all about? What are we doing here? What are we being trained for? When students leave, where do they go?”
Garin took in a raspy breath. “They go wherever they’re needed,” she replied. “They go to help others gain power, steal power, stay in power. Eventually, the graduates of this school will control everything, everywhere in the world.” She jabbed a thin finger at Meed. “And you could be the best ever. You have the gift. It’s in your blood.”
Garin straightened herself in the chair. The shift made her wince. Meed reached out, but Garin waved her hand away. “You have only one weakness,” she said softly.
