Darkside by Tom Becker

distance between himself and that strange woman as possible. Jonathan flew past the coffee shop on the first floor, ignoring the stares of the people sitting there. He headed up another staircase, taking two steps at a time. From somewhere there was a shout, whether from a librarian or Marianne he wasn’t sure. He didn’t look behind him to check.
    His head felt better now. It felt like Marianne had put some sort of spell on him, but Jonathan knew that wasn’t possible. One thing was clear, though: she had mentioned a place called Darkside. His dad had been on to something, and now Jonathan could pick up the trail.
    He carried on up the staircase until it came out on to the top floor. Though the bustle and chatter from the main hall carried up here, there was no one to be seen. Slowing down to a walk, Jonathan went over to the front edge of the walkway and looked down. From up here, everything in the main hall seemed normal. Knots of schoolchildren and students talked and laughed together, while others sat down in the comfy seats scribbling into notepads or typing on laptops. Jonathan strained to catch a glimpse of Marianne. She was standing casually by the entrance, playing absent-mindedly with a strand of her hair. The two men were nowhere to be seen. Suddenly she looked up in Jonathan’s direction, and he pulled away from the ledge.
    There was no guarantee that he was still safe. For all he knew, the two goons could be heading up towards him. And there was only one exit from the library that he knew about, and currently Marianne was standing right in front of it. Jonathan supposed that he could ask one of the librarians for help, but he didn’t fancy his chances of explaining his problem. Adults tended not to trust him, and he doubted that the kidnapping story would be swallowed that easily: “You see, there’s this woman who puts some kind of spell on you . . . ” No, that wasn’t going to work. There didn’t even seem to be a fire alarm he could press.
    On the far corner of the walkway, Jonathan caught sight of the smaller henchman reaching the top floor. He sniffed the air eagerly with his long nose, his jittery movements turning in Jonathan’s direction. Well, that settled it. He was going to have to do something. Moving quickly again, he rushed past the toilets and towards the bright shelter of a reading room, with the inscription “Maps” lit up above the doorway. As he moved towards it, the other henchman reached the top of the staircase on Jonathan’s side in a calm, regular stride.
    By the side of the entrance, a sign informed readers that neither pencils nor bags were allowed in the Map Room. A hint of a smile appeared on Jonathan’s lips.
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    In the foyer, Marianne anxiously scanned the top floor for any sight of a commotion. It had looked like things were going as smoothly as they had in Trafalgar Square . . . and then that fool had knocked into her. She swore under her breath. Now she had to trust that Humble and Skeet could flush the boy out without alerting the authorities. It was a miracle that they hadn’t been noticed yet. Marianne knew that her special perfume could deflect attention for a certain amount of time, but not with all this running around. Even now, she noticed a frown on the face of one of the library staff, as if he was trying to remember something he had forgotten.
    Then she saw Jonathan moving down the escalator, with a librarian holding him firmly by the arm. He was grinning triumphantly. Humble and Skeet followed several paces behind him, helpless onlookers. At the sight of this procession a security guard moved towards them, but the librarian shook her head.
    â€œI don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she said wearily.
    â€œAll this because of a pencil?” Jonathan protested. “I can’t believe you’re throwing me out just because I was carrying a stupid pencil!”
    â€œYou were