Chapter 7 Vague Threats
Vague Threats
The mist, now thickened to fog, slowed traffic to a syrupy crawl.
It matched the atmosphere inside the car, the brief grunts Nico offered to each question until Gareth stopped checking their preparedness for the day ahead.
They’d done their homework, and the world wouldn’t end if they’d forgotten to pack a workbook or pencil case.
He followed the line of cars down the hill, mentally revising his schedule and formulating questions for his meeting with Fenton. Jack was right. Letting problems fester wasn’t his way, and the sooner they settled this, the sooner they got Nico and Daniel back on an even keel.
“We’ll always keep you safe. You know that, right?” he asked ten minutes later as he checked the boot for stray bags and locked the car.
“You can’t promise that. Nobody can.”
Gareth hated Daniel knew that. He wanted to wrap his arms around the boy and quell his fears, but knew better than to hug Daniel on school grounds. “I’ll be there when you need me. I can promise that much. Now go enjoy your classes.”
“Look who thinks he’s funny.”
Nico shot him a grin and then they were gone, swallowed by the milling throng. Gareth watched them mingle, hoping the company of their friends would improve Nico and Daniel’s mood, give them perspective to temper the dread of their breakfast conversation.
Gareth followed the string of students towards the school’s main building.
He didn’t have a high opinion of the head teacher after the man had ignored reports of bullying until Nico had ended up in the hospital, nor did he expect a better outcome this time around.
Nevertheless, he’d meant what he’d told Jack.
Before they started digging, he wanted to establish how big a problem they were facing.
“Mr Flynn, good morning. Please come in.”
Frank Henry Fenton waited beside his open office door.
He was tall and skinny like a distance runner, and every time they met, Gareth wanted to tell him to stand up straight.
How a man with so little charisma and presence headed a large, busy secondary school was a mystery to him.
Maybe Jack was right, and his colleagues had bullied him into taking a job none of them had wanted.
“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice.” Gareth followed Fenton into his office and took the seat before the desk. “I wanted to talk to you about Nico and Daniel’s exclusion from the dance class.”
“Yes. That was… regrettable. An overreaction on Mr Manville’s part, I think. He’s an excellent dancer, very experienced, but his didactic skills are rather old-fashioned.”
“How so?”
“He expects his students to do exactly as they’re told. If they don’t, he becomes a little abrupt.”
Abrupt. Right. Gareth swallowed a sarcastic comment. Then an unwise one. “What happened, exactly?”
Fenton hunched over his desk and didn’t meet Gareth’s eyes. “Mr Manville reported to me that Daniel refused to follow instructions, and then Nico jumped in and defended his disobedience.”
“And you believed him?”
“Nico has his moments. Especially when he’s defending Daniel.”
“True enough. But Nico came into it after the fact, so you said. And Daniel doesn’t provoke strife.” Daniel gritted his teeth and endured.
“He’s a teenager, Mr Flynn. They’re all prone to overreaction. Even Daniel.”
“So that’s all it was? An overreaction?” Gareth said in his blandest voice, the one that used to make new recruits dive for cover.
Predictably, Fenton flinched. “Given the way Nico escalated a simple disagreement, I thought you’d prefer it if we dealt with this matter quietly.”
“What, precisely, are you accusing Nico of? They left the classroom when told without making a scene.”
“They did, but they didn’t do so alone. Nico enticed Carol and Jess to leave the class with them. That is not acceptable behaviour.”
And calling a boy who didn’t want to be groped disobedient is appropriate?
Gareth swallowed the words. “Nico has the makings of a good leader. I always thought so. But as for leading Jess and Carol astray? I can’t see it.
The girls can think for themselves. I find it far more interesting that Jess and Carol thought it necessary to go with Daniel and Nico. Have you considered why they did that?”
“Team loyalty, Mr Flynn. We see it every single day. I know you’re protective of Nico and Daniel—”
“Yes.” Gareth was done with this conversation. “Since you say it was nothing more than a bunch of overreactions on a Friday afternoon, I assume all four can continue with their dance lessons?”
Fenton sighed and leaned back into his chair. “Of course they can. And I’ll have a word with Mr Manville.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Gareth left Fenton’s office as disappointed with the conversation as he’d expected to be. As soon as he was on the road, he called Jess’s mother.
“Overreaction my foot,” Pauline huffed. “I’ve spoken to Tara. Both our girls agree that Manville’s a creep. And Daniel shouldn’t have the book thrown at him for refusing to be groped.”
“My thoughts exactly. For the moment, I’ve got them reinstated to the class, but I’m planning to stick my head in and watch.”
“Yeah, we’ve been meaning to do that, but Friday afternoons are insane here.”
“Of course. Damn it!”
Pauline chuckled. “You forgot it’s the Friday afternoon, didn’t you?”
“You said it. Never mind. Jack’s keen to do the honours. And he’s far less lenient than I am.”
“Lenient, you. Right. But while I have you, did Carol and Jess tell you about their dresses?”
“Dresses?”
“For the ball. They both have theirs already, and it’s important that your two match.”
Gareth sighed. “Match what? Gods, I can’t remember that far back. Send me pictures or colours or something and I’ll take the two shopping. I’m sure the tailor can figure something out.” Or maybe he’d call Skylar. He’d have to endure the snark, but Nico and Daniel would end up looking like royalty.
“Right you are. I’ll let Tara know what’s going on. We’ve thought about sending them to a private dance class, you know?”
“We did, too, but that would only mask the problem.”
“So we’re taking the rap for the rest of the class, is that it?”
“More or less. Can you make sure your girls are okay with that?”
“I’m sure they will be. They’ve been watching Nico, and he does it a lot.”
“He does what a lot?” Gareth asked with a sense of foreboding.
“Points out problems when he sees them. Whether that’s Mr Miller mumbling so nobody can understand what he says, or Mrs Tween enforcing the girls’ dress code more strictly than the boys’. I’m surprised you haven’t heard that one. I’m told it was a riot.”
Gareth hadn’t heard a whisper of anything amiss. He pushed the worry aside. This time, he hadn’t been buried in work and missed things, or Jack would have told him. They had an agreement, after all. “What did he do?”
“Wore pyjamas to class.”
“Oh, my god. No wonder they kept that one quiet.”
“He’s resourceful, your Nico. He likes to solve problems by himself.”
“He does that, yes.” But he told us about Manville. Gareth was now even more determined to find out what kind of man the dance teacher was, never mind that Fenton hadn’t ever mentioned inappropriate behaviour.
When he made it to his office, Gareth’s desk wasn’t the pristine, empty surface he’d walked away from on Friday evening. Someone—Julian’s PA, if he had to guess—had placed a stack of colourful folders next to the weekend reports from his team.
Gareth enjoyed the challenges that came with heading corporate security at Nancarrow Mining.
The job stretched his skills in all directions, from managing people to managing threats to keeping buildings and employees safe.
His mental flexibility served him well in a crisis, but on days where demands battered him from all sides, he wished for the comfort of routine.
Maybe this was a holdover from his military days, where routine was the scaffolding supporting emergency responses. Or maybe he was just getting old.
Discontent had gnawed at him all through his commute.
He hated to disappoint anyone, his family most of all.
While he’d achieved his objective of getting the kids back into the dance class, he didn’t feel good about it.
Especially after hearing that even Carol, who was nowhere near as high-strung as Jess, had called Manville a creep.
The sounding board he craved sat only a few steps away, but Gareth didn’t call out. Nobody was in imminent danger, so talking to Jack could wait.
Gareth set down his briefcase, checked on his herbs, and made tea. Soothed by bergamot-scented steam, he carried the teapot and cup to his desk and settled down to work. He’d read the team reports and drunk his tea when his desk phone rang.
“Morning, Gareth. Can you join me upstairs? There’s an oddity I need you to look at,” Julian said.
“I’ll be right there.” Gareth reached for pen and notebook. He wasn’t done with his stack of folders, but he was grateful for the call. Julian’s oddities often bloomed into headache-sized problems, and Gareth preferred to know about them sooner rather than later.
Jack’s desk was empty, and Gareth raised a questioning eyebrow as he passed. Frazer pointed downwards and Gareth nodded, aware that Jack and Frazer spent as much time in the server room as they did at their desks. He’d ask later what had needed Jack’s attention. For now, he had a problem to solve.
On a normal day, Julian was a neat freak who could moonlight as a fashion model. Today, his shirt was half untucked, his hair had come loose from its tie, and the messy office, the map-strewn conference table, and the desk an inch deep in loose paper more than hinted at trouble.
“What’s on fire?” Gareth asked.
Julian’s sigh came from the bottom of his boots. “I devoutly hope that you can tell me that.” He pointed at the map covered in red and black markers.