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Authors: Natalie Haynes
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pointing out that paper can be extremely heavy if you have enough of it, and nodded. Maybe this was her chance to get a look at some of the scientists’ work. Riffling through bins
wasn’t terribly glamorous, but needs must. They had now reached the stairwell which she had come up earlier, and she turned as if to go back down. The woman reached out and stopped her.
‘Good,’ she said, and pointed up to the third floor. ‘I’ve had the staff put the bags at the top of the stairs – just up there. I think they’re technically a
fire hazard until you’ve moved them, so the sooner the better, really. The rubbish room is at the bottom of these stairs – ground floor, first door on the left. Just dump them all in
there.’
‘OK,’ said Millie.
The woman turned around and stalked back towards Arthur Shepard’s office. Millie ran up the stairs – finally, this was her chance to see what was going on. There must have been
twenty black bin liners full of rubbish. She was just about to open one of the bags when a tiny noise caught her attention. She followed the sound and saw the little CCTV camera winking at her
across the stairwell. She couldn’t assume that she would be lucky twice. She sighed and picked up the rubbish bag, and began to carry it downstairs. The woman might have been rude, but she
had also been right – it wasn’t heavy at all. She manoeuvred open the doors downstairs, banging one elbow painfully as she went, and put the bag in a large empty room, with bolted doors
that presumably led outside for the rubbish to be picked up by lorry. She looked around quickly. There were no cameras in here. This was her chance. She carefully, carefully untied the top, so she
could retie it when she was finished and leave it looking just the same. She opened it, looked inside, and gasped in disappointment. No wonder the bag was light. The small amount of paper inside
had been shredded into tiny pieces – there was no hope of reading even a single word. She bit her lip in annoyance, retied the bag, and went back upstairs. Surely one of them would have
something in that wasn’t less than half an inch square? Or maybe someone used a very small font, so she could at least find out something off one fragment.
Seventeen bags later, she realised that the scientists were obviously more thorough than she had thought. Each bag had been filled with shreds and nothing else. Millie felt like crying, she was
so frustrated. Here was possibly all the information she could wish for, handed to her like a Christmas present, only one that was missing its batteries, and had additionally been stamped on by a
weighty and malevolent sibling. She had four more bags to go, but she was still going to check them all, just in case.
When she went back up to get the next one, she found that the bags had been hiding a door. Maybe she could sneak through it and explore the third floor – this was where Max had been kept,
after all. Millie felt her heart begin to pound for maybe the fifth time that day. She leaned gently on the door, and it moved slightly. She leaned a little harder, and it opened a few inches.
She was just about to try and look round, when a voice said, ‘Hello? Can I help you?’ A man opened the door slightly further and peered round the side of it. He was wearing a white
lab coat and holding onto the door suspiciously, like a dressing-gowned homeowner with his door on a security chain.
‘Sorry,’ said Millie, thinking that at least after today she knew her heart contained no defects or weaknesses, because if it had, she would have died several times over. ‘I
fell into the door,’ she said, rubbing her elbow to give some conviction to the story. Luckily, she had smacked it so many times on the doors downstairs, it was already quite red.
‘Easily done,’ said the man. ‘Take more care of yourself, won’t you?’ He shut the door firmly in her face, and she picked up another bag and carried it grimly
wasn’t terribly glamorous, but needs must. They had now reached the stairwell which she had come up earlier, and she turned as if to go back down. The woman reached out and stopped her.
‘Good,’ she said, and pointed up to the third floor. ‘I’ve had the staff put the bags at the top of the stairs – just up there. I think they’re technically a
fire hazard until you’ve moved them, so the sooner the better, really. The rubbish room is at the bottom of these stairs – ground floor, first door on the left. Just dump them all in
there.’
‘OK,’ said Millie.
The woman turned around and stalked back towards Arthur Shepard’s office. Millie ran up the stairs – finally, this was her chance to see what was going on. There must have been
twenty black bin liners full of rubbish. She was just about to open one of the bags when a tiny noise caught her attention. She followed the sound and saw the little CCTV camera winking at her
across the stairwell. She couldn’t assume that she would be lucky twice. She sighed and picked up the rubbish bag, and began to carry it downstairs. The woman might have been rude, but she
had also been right – it wasn’t heavy at all. She manoeuvred open the doors downstairs, banging one elbow painfully as she went, and put the bag in a large empty room, with bolted doors
that presumably led outside for the rubbish to be picked up by lorry. She looked around quickly. There were no cameras in here. This was her chance. She carefully, carefully untied the top, so she
could retie it when she was finished and leave it looking just the same. She opened it, looked inside, and gasped in disappointment. No wonder the bag was light. The small amount of paper inside
had been shredded into tiny pieces – there was no hope of reading even a single word. She bit her lip in annoyance, retied the bag, and went back upstairs. Surely one of them would have
something in that wasn’t less than half an inch square? Or maybe someone used a very small font, so she could at least find out something off one fragment.
Seventeen bags later, she realised that the scientists were obviously more thorough than she had thought. Each bag had been filled with shreds and nothing else. Millie felt like crying, she was
so frustrated. Here was possibly all the information she could wish for, handed to her like a Christmas present, only one that was missing its batteries, and had additionally been stamped on by a
weighty and malevolent sibling. She had four more bags to go, but she was still going to check them all, just in case.
When she went back up to get the next one, she found that the bags had been hiding a door. Maybe she could sneak through it and explore the third floor – this was where Max had been kept,
after all. Millie felt her heart begin to pound for maybe the fifth time that day. She leaned gently on the door, and it moved slightly. She leaned a little harder, and it opened a few inches.
She was just about to try and look round, when a voice said, ‘Hello? Can I help you?’ A man opened the door slightly further and peered round the side of it. He was wearing a white
lab coat and holding onto the door suspiciously, like a dressing-gowned homeowner with his door on a security chain.
‘Sorry,’ said Millie, thinking that at least after today she knew her heart contained no defects or weaknesses, because if it had, she would have died several times over. ‘I
fell into the door,’ she said, rubbing her elbow to give some conviction to the story. Luckily, she had smacked it so many times on the doors downstairs, it was already quite red.
‘Easily done,’ said the man. ‘Take more care of yourself, won’t you?’ He shut the door firmly in her face, and she picked up another bag and carried it grimly
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