Nightmare Academy (27 page)

“But . . . what's supposed to happen?” Elijah asked. “I mean, do I get to talk to someone, or explain things, or what?”

They didn't answer him. They went out the door, locked it, and left him alone.

All around him—in the walls, in the air, in the floor—was a low, steady rumbling
life,
much like being aboard a ship or an airliner.
This building isn't just sitting, it's running like a big
machine. It is alive.

If this mansion's a monster,
he thought,
then I'm in the stomach.

Nate and Sarah landed in Coeur d'Alene, in the northern panhandle of Idaho, and parked the airplane in front of Resort Aviation, an aviation service center providing fuel, aircraft rental, scenic tours, and generally anything having to do with aviation or traveling aviators. Inside the office, a young gal with curly blond locks was working behind the counter. Rental rates for Cessnas and Pipers were posted on the wall; navigational charts, airport directories, and tourist brochures were on display. Occasionally, the chatter of pilots would squawk from a radio at the far end of the counter, tuned to monitor the airport frequency.

This building isn't just sitting, its
running like a big machine. It is alive.

“Hi,” said Nate. “We'd like to tie our plane down for a few days.”

“Are you the Springfields?” she asked.

That scared them. For secrecy's sake, they hadn't called ahead. How did she know their names?

“Is someone expecting us?” Sarah asked.

“Your ride's here now.”

She pointed out the window toward the parking lot. A black car was waiting. The man behind the wheel gave them a subtle wave.

It was Morgan.

They acted pleased to see him to hide the fact that they were alarmed. They hurried out the door and climbed into the car.

“What is it?” Sarah demanded. “What's happened?”

“Easy,” said Morgan. “No bad news yet. But it's time for a face-to-face. Go ahead and bring your luggage. I got us some rooms.”

The motel was small, one-story built thirty years ago. The rooms were simple: one bed, two chairs by the window, a small television, a bathroom with a stained sink and a drippy shower.

For secrecy's sake, they hadn't
called ahead. How did she
know their names?

Sarah took the bed, aching and tired. Nate and Morgan sat by the window after closing the blinds.

“Okay,” said Nate, “what've you got?”

“It's a government project,” said Morgan. “And then again, it isn't.”

Sarah sat up straight. “Morgan! Our children are missing! We've been hopscotching across the country chasing an academy that's never there. We don't need: don't know, might know, can't know! Give us some facts we can work with or let us get some sleep!”

Morgan took her lashing in stride, and pulled out a document. “This might help explain it. It's last year's budget report from the Department of Education.”

Nate took a look at it. Sarah flopped back down on the bed and waited to be impressed.

Morgan guided Nate to the third page of columns and figures and pointed to a small, obscure item:
Educational Research Grant
"Here's a tidy little expense that's been slipping through unquestioned for the past five years. The president was never told about it, and neither was the current secretary of education.”

Nate was impressed, and spoke out loud for Sarah's benefit. “Twenty million dollars.”

“Per year.”

Sarah raised her head. “That's government money?”

“Our money” said Morgan. “Your taxes, my taxes.”

“Wow!” said Nate, actually happy tapping the paper. “A fact! A real fact!”

Morgan explained, “Five years ago, the previous president—and several of his cronies in Congress—allotted these funds for research in global education, and part of the program was to set up special laboratories to test their theories with volunteer students.”

Now Sarah was sitting up, almost impressed. “The campuses that aren't there anymore.”

Morgan nodded. “Exactly. It all looked very legitimate.”

Nate asked, “So why aren't the campuses there anymore?”

“Why isn't the Light of Day Youth Shelter there anymore?” Morgan asked rhetorically.

“Why was Alvin Rogers murdered?” Sarah asked.

“Why is the mysterious redhead, Margaret Jones, going by so many different names?”

“And why were our kids taken away without warning, without a trace?” Sarah said with an obvious bitterness.

“Somebody's up to no good and hiding it well,” said Nate.

“Even from the president,” said Morgan. “Whatever this project was supposed to be, it's turning out to be something else. He and the secretary of education had their suspicions, but with no solid facts, he couldn't order an investigation without looking foolish and drawing vicious attacks from his enemies in Congress, not to mention the media.”

“And so the facts are all buried,” said Sarah. “Cleared and reforested, plowed under a farmer's field . . .”

“Imploded.”

Nate and Sarah looked at him strangely.

“Haven't you heard? The Dartmoor Hotel was imploded just yesterday. It's gone. Demolished.”

By now, Nate and Sarah were getting used to such information—almost. They needed a moment to digest that.

Morgan continued, “But if we can find an actual, operating campus and find out what it's really being used for, then maybe we'll get that investigation authorized and stop this monster in its tracks.”

“Hmm,” Nate mused. “A monster.”

“Excuse me?”

“You'll have to read my daughter's English paper.”

“Anyway,” Morgan continued, “this whole thing
is
a government project in that it's receiving government money, but I would say it's
not
a government project because it's a renegade, carrying out a secret agenda that could be entirely illegal, to put it mildly.”

“But we'd have to prove that before anything can be done about it, so we're investigating, but not officially.”

“That is where things stand, yes.”

“I'm
sort of
impressed,” said Sarah.

“Morgan,” said Nate, “we're here, but we don't know where to look. Margaret Jones told the kids the academy's up in the mountains, but there are a
lot
of mountains around here.”

“Haven't you heard? The Dartmoor
Hotel was imploded just yesterday.
It's gone. Demolished”

“Oh, yes! About Margaret Jones! Your information was very helpful. I haven't been able to go through official channels, at least officially but some friends in the right places have filled in some blanks. She might be in this area.”

That did impress Sarah. “I want her, Morgan.”

Morgan nodded with understanding. “You'll be the first to know.”

“In the meantime . . .” Nate unfolded a U.S. Forestry map of the Idaho panhandle. “We've got a few zillion acres of national forest to comb through. . . .”