Mutation by Chris Morphew Read Free Book Online Page B

funeral, was walking toward us, arguing with a small, skinny man with glasses: Arthur van Pelt.
    I dragged Luke sideways into a nearby booth, hoping they’d pass by without noticing us, wishing I’d been more careful. But what choice did we have? Speak in public and risk being overheard. Speak in private and risk Shackleton guessing what we were doing.
    â€˜Sir,’ said Barnett behind me, struggling to keep his voice under control, ‘we’re talking about a few groceries. It’s not as though –’
    â€˜We’re talking about four separate breaches of this building’s security,’ snapped van Pelt.
    They strode past our booth and I saw Barnett’s fingers clenching in frustration.
    â€˜Yes sir,’ he seethed. ‘We’re working on it.’
    â€˜I’m not asking you to work on it. I’m asking you –’ van Pelt kept arguing, but by now they were slipping back out of earshot.
    I looked down and realised I was sitting on Luke’s hand.
    â€˜Sorry,’ I said, shifting further into the booth.
    But Luke was staring off in the opposite direction. Peter and the others were sitting around a table, twentyish metres away. The three boys were demolishing a giant plate of nachos. Cathryn sat back, looking intently at Peter.
    â€˜Try to get closer?’ said Luke.
    I shook my head. They were in the middle of the food court, right out in the open. Didn’t matter which direction we came in from, one of them would see us coming.
    Which was probably exactly how Mike had planned it.
    No point charging in there and ruining Peter’s chances of getting anything out of them. I slumped back in my seat. We’d just have to wait for him to fill us in.
    â€˜So who do you reckon that guy was that Barnett was arguing with?’ asked Luke, watching him head off in the direction of the supermarket.
    â€˜You’re kidding, right?’
    I took it from his blank stare that he wasn’t.
    â€˜The guy in charge of the mall,’ I said incredulously. ‘Arthur van Pelt. From Pryor’s phone, remember? I looked him up in the town directory as soon as we found out he was one of Shackleton’s people.’
    â€˜Oh,’ said Luke. ‘Good thinking.’
    â€˜You didn’t?’
    â€˜Sorry,’ said Luke, ‘been kind of busy lately. You know, this apocalypse we’re having.’
    I looked past him at Peter and the others. Mike was waving his arms around in front of him, telling a story or something. Peter burst out laughing. You could see just by looking at him how much he’d missed hanging out with these guys.
    Just don’t forget you’ve got a job to do, I thought.
    â€˜So what do you want to do now?’ asked Luke, reaching under the table for his bag. ‘Not much point – Uh-oh.’
    I tensed, expecting to see Calvin or Pryor or a security officer closing in. But it wasn’t any of Shackleton’s people.
    It was Peter’s dad, pushing towards us in his wheelchair. He had a dangerous look in his eyes, the same one Peter always gets a split second before he flies off the handle.
    I hadn’t spoken to Mr Weir since before the night at the Shackleton Building. I guess I’d kind of been avoiding him. But I’d seen him, struggling around town, a constant reminder of the grip Shackleton had on us.
    Luke moved to get up, but Mr Weir rolled to a stop next to him, blocking our way out of the booth.
    â€˜Uh-uh. No,’ he said. ‘No more screwing around.’
    â€˜Mr Weir –’
    â€˜I know there’s something going on in this place,’ Peter’s dad hissed, leaning across the table towards us. ‘And I know you two know something about it. And neither of you is going anywhere until you tell me exactly what the Shackleton Co-operative wants with my son.’

Chapter 7

    M ONDAY, J UNE 15
59 DAYS
    I scanned the food court. There were at least three security