All in the Faculty

Chapter 25: The Code

If Tom's Monday was a roller coaster, then Tuesday was an uphill trek. Staying motivated and awake was an all-consuming task in spite of what felt like a really nasty hangover. Apparently sleep deprivation, anxiety and heartbreak aren't the ingredients for an engaged and inspired history teacher. Sitting at his desk, Tom pulled open one of the drawers and withdrew a bottle of pills, shaking a couple out into his palm. He swallowed them dry with a look of grim resignation on his face.

"Where's Mr. Beckett today?" called Katie Healy.

"He's–"

"Sick," Bridget and Olivia chimed in mockingly. Talking in tandem appeared to be their latest game. Next to them, Liam was hunched over a piece of paper with a pencil in hand, determinedly ignoring them. At five minutes past, Isaac Smith was the last student to arrive. He started in the direction of the empty seat next to Katie with only a split-second's hesitation. Katie was looking at him the way a cat might look at a bath.

"Don't sit there," she hissed.

"Why not? Seat's empty," he shot back, collapsing into the chair and throwing an arm over the back.

"Mr. Harris! Isaac's sitting in Liam's spot."

Tom was adjusting his fake-reading glasses. "Isaac…"

"Oh, what," the boy complained, dragging his things out of his backpack and splaying them over the surface of the desk. "Bloody Townsend gets to change spots without anyone saying anything, but when I do it it's a crime? There's no justice in this school! There's no fairness!"

Tom didn't have the energy to argue. He threw his hands up in the air and barked,

"You can stay where you are as long as you promise to pipe down. I mean it – I am not in the mood. Now… let's get on with today's lesson…"

Between third and fourth period, Tom's brief moment of solitude was interrupted by a light knock. "C'min," he called unenthusiastically, praying that it wouldn't be Alison. To his relief, Jane Beatrix opened the door. She was carrying her bag, leading Tom to speculate that her final period was empty for the day. With a click, the door shut and locked behind her.

"Tom," she greeted, glancing around. "I haven't seen Alex. Is he absent again?"

"I don't know where the bastard's gone off to," Tom grumbled. He put down his pen to rub his face. "Is there something you need to ask him?"

"You don't know where he is?"

She sounded concerned. Tom stole a second look at her. While he recognized the alarm in her face, he couldn't wrap his head around it. Was there a reason she should be worried about Alex missing a day of school?

"I'm sure he's fine…" Tom said slowly, scrutinizing her. "I mean, it is Alex."

Jane sat down in the chair across from him, dropping her bag with a clunk. "What do you mean by that?"

Tom leaned away from the interrogating tone. Crap. "Um… I just mean, he can take care of himself. Have you met the guy? Nothing scares him. Anyway, what's the problem? Are you looking for him?"

Jane reached up to fumble with the unruly bun on her head. Loose strands fanned out from her face in the front and back. It was even messier than usual. Tom wondered if she'd been fumbling with it all day.

"Yes. I need to talk to him about something. It's important."

With that, the tables turned. Tom stared at her, wide-eyed with interest. "Is it now? I might be able to help."

She gave up on her hair and allowed her hands to fall into her lap with a sigh of exasperation. It was quite the sight. Tom couldn't remember a single time that the woman wasn't perfectly composed. In fact, until Alex joined the class, he'd never known her to be anything but cool as a glass of white.

"Sorry, Tom. It's between him and me. I'm not supposed to talk about it."

Tom scratched at the stubble on his face. "Oh, come on. I won't tell him you told me."

"That's not really the point…"

"Maybe I already know, and you just don't know that I know. Alex and I tell each other everything, you know?"

Her lips quirked up in an involuntary smile. "Somehow I don't believe that."

"Huh. Maybe it's just me that tells him everything, then…"

At that, she laughed, though it didn't last. With her mind elsewhere, Jane's gaze trailed over to the window. She looked almost as strung out as him. Tom's sympathy gave way to an idea.

"If you want to find Alex, I could give you his address. He only lives ten minutes from here."

"I wouldn't want to drop by unannounced," said Jane, fiddling with her hair again.

"Actually, I think something's happened to his phone." Tom pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed her the six missed calls from last night. She frowned.

"Is that normal? For him to just drop off the map like that?"

Well. Eight years ago it was normal. Since then, not so much, but Tom was trying really hard not to think about that. Where the hell was Alex? It was the very question he'd been dodging all day. An entire morning spent trying to rationalize his disappearance had gotten him out of the house and into the classroom, and a dedicated approach to avoiding all thoughts around worse-case scenarios had kept up appearances in front of the children. Here and now, with Jane waiting for an answer from him, all bets were off.

It wasn't normal. Alex didn't play jokes like this. Was Tom a terrible person for not going looking for him, or calling the police? Was he a horrible friend? What if Alex needed his help?

If something… if something's happened to Alex…

Tom's breath caught in his throat. He could feel it creeping up on him, twisting its way around his limbs like the measured embrace of a boa constrictor. Tom told himself to stay still, very still, in hopes that the feeling would pass.

No sudden movements. Stop thinking. Was he going to start getting panic attacks in public? The cold grip of fear tightened its hold, making his ribcage contract. Noticing the change, Jane's eyes widened.

"Alright, Tom?"

"I-I…"

It wasn't yet safe to breath. If he did, he might unravel. Jane, too, was looking rapidly less sure of herself by the second. With his body frozen and his skin losing colour, Tom appeared almost statuesque. At the point of bursting, his lungs finally gave in and heaved, launching him into a fit of coughing. Tom pressed his hands up against the edge of his desk and ducked his head so she couldn't see him. A gentle hand landed on his back, rubbing circles into the fabric of his shirt. When the wheezing died off, Tom was left shivering and exhausted. Worse still, he felt utterly humiliated. Nobody other than Alex had ever witnessed him have a panic attack before. She may as well have walked in on him naked.

"Ugh..." Tom blinked down at his lap. He was already dreading having to face her. "I'm sorry for that."

"Are you okay now?" asked Jane hesitantly.

He nodded. It took him another ten seconds to gather the courage to lift his head, though he had to go back and forth between looking at her and looking at the wall behind her. Jane stepped back to give him some space.

"Sorry," he repeated, washing his hands over his face once more. "Maybe it's just because I'm tired. Sometimes that happens to me, but not normally in front of people. I'm really sorry you had to–"

"Tom," she broke in, "stop apologizing. We can just forget about it, if you want."

"Please," he replied breathlessly, sending her a grateful look. It was inexpressible how much he appreciated her complete lack of fuss on the matter. Jane moved to pick her bag up off the ground.

"Maybe I will go by Alex's place. If he's there, I'll let you know, okay?"

Tom snatched up the nearest sticky-note and wrote down Alex's address for her. When Jane opened the door, two dozen students started pouring in. He'd almost forgotten about fourth period.

"Oh, God," Tom groaned. "When is this day going to be over?"

0o0o0o

This is a nice part of town, thought Jane, admiring the shady, umbrella-like trees and clean white pavement. Nice… if a little boring. Made-to-order condos occupied most of the streets she passed through. They reminded her of the glossy printed canvasses she saw in the windows of Homesense; fake paintings that only revealed their pixels upon closer inspection.

Alex's building was a smaller apartment block tucked between two commercial buildings. It was pure luck that Jane reached the entrance as another resident was leaving. The older man held the door open for her without a word, ushering her inside. Once upstairs, Jane knocked and waited. A few seconds later, the door eased inward and Alex peeked out.

"Jane!" he exclaimed, glancing behind her to make sure she was alone. "What are –" He lowered his voice. "What are you doing here?"

He was dressed in less than she'd ever seen him – a loose-fitting tank and tracksuit bottoms. Certainly not the outfit of someone with plans to leave the house, and yet, Jane wasn't sure if he'd ever looked better. Her eyes trailed first down his neck to his chest and along his shoulders until she reached his arms. Toned muscle greeted her everywhere she looked. Jane's eyebrows rose.

Then, of course, she noticed the bandages. "What happened to you?"

"I–" Alex instinctively reached up to touch his head. He'd swapped out the one from the night previous for a square patch taped over his ear. "… was attacked by a dog."

"Oh, I bet you were…"

She stepped closer to examine the bandage on his arm, brushing her fingers along the skin around it and taking secret pleasure in the shiver that her touch elicited. When she started peeling back the gauze, he intervened.

"Hey, what are you trying to do?"

"Let me see!"

Alex batted her hands away. "No! That's weird!"

"So tell me the truth and I won't have to–"

"Jane," he cut her off, "why are you here?" Then, a thought occurred to him. "Wait…" His eyes widened. "Did you…?"

Jane matched his expression and silently nodded. Alex seized her shoulders, grinning ear-to-ear. "That's fantastic! I knew you could do it! So – wait – uh, is it fantastic?"

"It's a little bit fantastic," she assured him. "Could I come in?"

"I – um…" Alex hesitated, stumbling over his words and turning to peer back into his apartment. As soon as Jane made the connection, she started back-peddling.

"Or, um, I could come back…"

"Alex?" a soft voice sounded from inside. Alex stepped out and tried to shut the door behind him.

"It's not what it–" He broke off when a hand landed on his forearm, pulling it back. Sabina's curious face hovered next to his shoulder.

"Hello," she said.

"Hi," said Jane.

She was easily the shortest out of the three of them, with narrow shoulders and smooth white skin. A big white T-shirt was draped over her thin figure, slipping down her collar and exposing a lavish amount of skin. There was something immediately appealing about her – a kind of delicate elegance, like fine china. Jane wondered if the T-shirt was Alex's.

Her inner-dialogue was quick to set that one straight. Of course it's his. Who else would it belong to?

Alex glanced between them in growing mortification. "This, um, it really isn't…"

"Are you a friend of Alex's?" Sabina extended a hand out into the hallway. "I'm Sabina."

Jane took her hand. With their fingers clasped around one another's, the contrast in appearance became that much more apparent. Jane's high cheekbones and sharp features gave way to generous curves the lower one's eyes traveled. She had an undeniably seductive quality to her, even when she was scowling. Sabina was feather-like in comparison, all blue veins and pale skin, dappled with freckles. While Sabina's tame nature was a carefully-constructed façade, Jane made no effort to pretend at all. Perhaps that was why she'd had such little luck making friends in London.

"I also teach at Brookland," Jane clarified. "Jane Beatrix."

"Please, allow me to explain," said Alex.

Both women turned their eyes onto him. He floundered.

"Well – so – um – where to begin, really?"

"Why don't we start by going inside?" Sabina chimed in, amused. She turned around and disappeared, leaving Alex and Jane to share a look before following.

The kitchen was stained with Alex's unholy attempts at making breakfast. Pancake batter… everywhere. It looked like a fight had broken out in the kitchen. A fight between Alex and the pancake batter, perhaps. On the table, a plate of plain buttermilk pancakes sat untouched next to a bottle of unopened maple syrup and two empty plates. Alex gestured at the pancakes.

"Feel free to partake."

"Did you make these yourself?"

"Not exactly…" Jane looked first at Sabina, but Sabina shook her head. Alex pointed at the discarded box of instant pancakes by her feet. Aunt Jemima's cheery face was smiling up at them from the floor. Alex scratched the back of his head.

"It took me a couple tries but I think I've just about figured it out."

"How have you kept yourself alive all these years?"

Jane's comment drew a laugh from Sabina, who had her lips pressed together in a secret smile.

"It's harder than it looks," Alex defended. "You can have as many as you like. Sabina…" He looked over at the woman and sighed. "Sabina's allergic to dairy, so…"

"To be honest, I'm not terribly hungry…"

Alex reached forward to pull one out from the middle of the pile. "Not even for this mickey-mouse- shaped one?"

Jane looked long and hard at the flimsy pancake. It reminded her of the ones she used to make for her baby brother back when they were kids. Instant pancake mix was a family favorite for her growing up. As far as her mother was concerned, the less time it took to cook a meal, the better. More time for her to spend painting her eyelids blue.

Alex reluctantly returned the pancake to the plate.

"Sorry," said Jane, shaking her head free of clouds.

"It's fine. You didn't come here to eat. Let's get down to business. You cracked the code?!"

"Uh…"

Sabina was gazing across at her with mounting interest. "You?" she said. "A teacher?"

"Maths teacher," Alex corrected with pride. He sat down on the armrest of the couch and faced them with his arms folded over his chest. Jane remained silent, prompting him to finish his earlier introduction. "Oh – right, sorry Jane. Sabina should hear this, too. She's an investigative journalist working on exposing Concrete Massive. In fact, it was Sabina that gave us the photographs of Oxford St."

Why would someone investigating a crime syndicate agree to tell you all this?

"Your… informant," Jane concluded, thinking back to the conversation they'd had in Alex's car.

This person is… a friend of mine. We help each other out sometimes.

So this was what he'd meant by "helping each other out." Was it a complete coincidence that Alex's informant was a blue-eyed beauty that trounced around his flat wearing nothing but his T-shirt? Jane didn't quite know what to make of it all. Could Alex be manipulating Sabina for information by initiating a relationship with her?

"Before I tell you anything else, I want to know what actually happened to you last night," she said. A low growl cut in before Alex could say anything. It was Jane's stomach.

"You liar," Alex accused. "You are so hungry. Eat my pancakes!"

Jane pulled out one of the chairs at the table and pulled the plate toward her with a meaningful look in Alex's direction. The message was clear: truth for pancakes. Alex narrowed his eyes and nodded in satisfaction as Jane picked up a fork and knife and began cutting off a piece.

"Get some syrup in there," said Alex, leaning forward to snatch up the bottle of syrup and pour it over top of the cold pancakes. "Say when–"

"Stop," said Jane, pushing his hand away. "You're stalling. Tell the truth."

Alex retreated, chewing his lip. Sabina came to the rescue.

"It's my fault. I was in trouble and I called him for help."

"Not another exploding car, I hope?"

"No," said Alex, "not another car."

"Alex…"

"The rest is history, Bee. Why sweat the small stuff? I'm alive, aren't I?"

"What kind of consolation is that?"

"A pretty good one, I'd say. All things considered."

"All things being?"

"Sabina," he replied.

All things being Sabina. He was referring to the fact that both of them were alive, though the subtext filled in for everything Alex didn't say. There wasn't a scratch on her. That had clearly been his goal. Everything other than that was collateral, including his own sorry state.

Sabina moved closer to Alex, taking his hand and examining the patchwork on his arm. "Have you changed this bandage today?"

Alex shook his head. The way he was looking at her made Jane think he might've been holding his breath. That was when she realized her earlier mistake: Alex wasn't manipulating Sabina. He genuinely adored her. It was written all over his face.

And, she thought, allowing her eyes to roam up and down Sabina's soft presence, how could he not?

"Fine," said Jane, dropping the issue. "Next on the agenda – you need to text Tom now."

"Tom? … Tom! I completely forgot about Tom!"

While Alex leaped up to search around for his phone, Sabina took his place at the end of the couch, crossing her legs and folding her hands over her knees.

"It's unfortunate that my cover was comprised when it was, but there is good news… so to speak. I think I know who wants to kidnap Bridget Flowers."

Alex's eyes shot up from his phone screen. "Wait – seriously?"

Sabina smirked. "You really think I would've called you to get me out while I was still empty-handed?"

Sabina's suspect was an up-and-coming politician called Dan Swartz. Dan's money came from investments made with his inheritance at a young age. His father, Elmer Swartz, was one of London's leading political figures of his day. When a train derailment left Dan orphaned as a teenager, it made headlines for weeks. Years later, public sympathy turned to roaring support when a teenaged Dan made the decision to follow his father's footsteps. That was nearly twenty years back. Now, older but still young by many standards, Dan Swartz was widely regarded as an ambitious figure in the political arena.

What was surprising about Dan Swartz was that he wasn't a member of an opposing party, but, in fact, a colleague of Carol and James. What was less surprising was the fact that if Carol and James were to step down and retire from politics, there was a good chance that the person to succeed them would be the wildly popular Dan Swartz.

By the time Sabina was finished talking, Alex's expression had turned stony. "So how do we prove it?"

Sabina looked to Jane. "That would depend on Mrs. Beatrix."

Jane took that as her cue to open her bag and pull out the envelope of pictures. She also flipped open a folder, revealing pages of extensive notes and printed-off calculations.

"I have really good news," she said, licking her finger and flipping through the stack of documents. "The code – it's for anyone associated with the gang, and each one requires a slightly different key. You were right, Alex. The red and blue numbers do correspond. Only they're not words… they're dates and addresses."

The energy coursing through her was contagious. Alex moved closer to peek over her shoulder at the stack of papers in her hands.

"It's better than we could've imagined… each one was electronically encoded using a mathematical algorithm. Not a bad idea – their mistake was in using a logical sequence of numbers to create the individual keys rather than a random one. I found a program online that was able to generate enough probable values until…"

Sabina was blinking at her, utterly lost. Jane cleared her throat.

"Anyway. This part took a few weeks to happen, but when the program finally generated a key that converted the red code into a recognizable word, I looked at it and realized it was a street name next to some random letters. So I translated the letters back into numbers and alongside the street name, my first guess was that it was a complete address. Except when I followed it… there was nothing there. The numbers and the street name didn't go together. That's when I started thinking about the blue numbers, and Oxford St."

Talking at nearly a mile a minute, Jane had to pause to catch her breath. Alex's eyes lingered on hers as she continued.

"I thought about how the codes only ever appeared along Oxford St, so I took the numbers next to the street name and added Oxford St after them. Then I visited that address. And on the back of the building… there was a blue code!"

"Did anyone see you?" asked Alex.

"I don't think so. And even if they did, I – well… I borrowed someone's dog."

"What? Whose?"

"Some dog that was tied up outside one of the shops on the other side. I knew it would make me look less suspicious to be walking around aimlessly if it looked like I was walking a dog, so…"

She'd expected judgement. Instead, her audience looked impressed. A warm hand landed on her shoulder to give it a squeeze. "Brilliant!" Alex enthused. "You are a genius!"

Although Jane didn't acknowledge the complement, she also made no move to brush Alex's hand away before relaunching into her long-winded explanation.

"The blue numbers weren't encoded at all – they just didn't make sense unless you knew what you were looking for. After cross-referencing the codes with the information you gave me, I discovered that the street address revealed in the red code corresponded to the first few numbers of the blue code as an address – the address of where a heist took place a few weeks back. Even better… the last few numbers turned out to be a time. It's an anonymous communication network, Alex."

Sabina looked skeptical. "But why?"

"Think about it. The most popular forms of communication today are also the easiest to hack," Alex answered for her. "Phones, emails, even the post – it's all subject to surveillance and interference. This is… archaic."

"Archaic, yes, though not at all without nuance," Jane pointed out. "With the keys constantly changing, there's no single point of failure… theoretically."

"Right. Theoretically. Unless, of course, the resident maths teacher decides to get involved," said Alex with a wide grin.

"There's more," she continued. "I'm almost positive that the codes never appear sooner than two weeks in advance, and as far as I've been able to see, nothing is scheduled to happen anywhere within the vicinity of Brookland."

That was their other advantage: Brookland. It seemed to be the most logical choice for a kidnapping, being that on any given weekday a complete stranger could predict exactly where she would be between 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. So now that they knew what they were looking for, and where to look for it…

Sabina's calm voice brought the conversation to a close. "All we have to do is wait."

0o0o0o

A/N: Hello hello! So sorry for my sluggishness! I've moved into a new house (moving, cleaning, furnishing… ugh) and started studying at uni again. Plus I have a new job! But anyway, I'll try not to let it happen again. Thanks to everyone who reminded me that there are people out there who actually care if I dedicate time to writing this story. I really appreciate it!

Chapter 25… damn! That's like, a quarter way to a hundred! Speaking of which, this story just hit 100k words. WAT. I swear at the beginning of this year it was only maybe 30k! So in lieu of all these wonderful milestone numbers, you know what would be the raddest of the rad? … you guessed it. Let's hit 600 reviews! :')

Next chapter: "I've… wanted to do this for a very long time."