Chapter 1

Kid stretched himself out as he reached the foot of the mobile stairway from Flight 107. The four hour flight to Palau had left him feeling cramped and irritable. Mrs. Carter, clipboard in hand, stood waiting for the boys as they deplaned. It was windy, and she stood holding her straw hat firmly onto her head. She smiled, but behind her sunglasses, her real feelings were anyone's guess.

"I hope you had a nice holiday, Rupert," she said brightly.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Carter," Kid replied politely.

"Excellent." She raised her voice to the gaggle of boys, "Just to get you all back into the run of things, would you line up nicely. New boys, we do things to order at Pacific. Just line up with everyone else."

One of the newbies ignored her, standing with his hands on his hips. With his back to her, he surveyed the runway.

"Mark Bennett, I don't usually ask twice. I'm told you're an interesting boy, but you can be interesting later. Just line up with everyone else." She said, in a quiet voice that took on the hard grating of a surly crocodile.

The boy turned his moody face around to look at her. He shrugged insolently, and sauntered over to the line. Kid grinned at Roger Middleton, his best friend, otherwise known as Snoopy. He wondered if Mark knew what he was in for.

Immigration, Customs. Sniffer dogs, Magnetic security gate, and finally, the bus. Kid knew the routine, but Mark grumbled at every point in the process.

"Where are our cases?" he asked.

"They'll come later," Snoopy said. After inspection by customs. Some of the newbies try to sneak things through."

"Like cigarettes hidden in transistor radios?" Kid asked.

"I wish you wouldn't dwell on that," Snoopy said. "I was a rank amateur then."

"What's the score?" Mark asked.

"Commodore Ferguson, he's the Principal - runs a tight ship. If you get on his right side, he's cool." Kid said. "Just don't piss him off."

They watched the tropical jungle roll past the bus windows. "By the way, half of the Island is school property, You are now in PIGS."

"Can you get out - of the school, I mean?"

"It isn't a jail. We get town leave every second Saturday, and swamp leave every second Sunday. The only way off the island is - swim. The locals won't help you leave the island. The school is a major economic asset - The islanders depend on it for cash. There's no escape - even if PIGS isn't a jail. It might as well be. By the way, My name's Kid, and this is Snoopy. What did you do to get this prize?"

"Why am I here? Dad owns SoftChip - the computer company. I hate school, so he's sent me here to improve my grades - and my attitude. And you?"

"Kid trashed his local sports club after they kicked him out of Karate class," Snoopy volunteered. "And I'm the family reject. Mum and Dad split up. Neither wanted custody."

"That's different," Mark said. "Usually parents fight to the death for custody."

"Well, Chip, my parents are different."

"Chip?" Mark asked.

"Yes. We don't have a 'Chip' at school. Everyone gets called by their nickname, or surname. You can be called 'Bennett' - which means nobody likes you much, or 'Chip' which means you're O.K. Suit yourself."

Mark nodded. "Chip. That's cool."

"Better than 'duckieshit' or 'mousedick'," Snoopy said, chuckling.

"Here's the basic rules. Whatever happens, you don't tell the force anything. The Mafia have 'omerta' - silence. If you snitch about anything to the prefects, or staff, you're rat-shit. History. Rule two, if you stuff up by breaking the rules, the whole house gets punished. Nobody likes shoveling sand for the whole weekend. This island is made of sand. We don't want to re-shape it just because you have an attitude problem."

"So how do you - you know - muck about?"

"Muck about? Very carefully," Kid said.

"Very very carefully," Snoopy agreed.

-0-

The dormitories were bright and airy. Mark had visions of lines of beds with lockers, but the boys slept in large bedrooms containing four bunks, inbuilt with cupboards and desks for homework.

Chip's long hair had vanished, replaced by a number one clipper cut.

"You badmouthed the barber," Kid said. "It never pays."

"He's too big to argue with," Chip agreed. "But I did give him a genealogy." The boy sat down on the bottom bunk. "What do they make these uniform duds out of? Cast iron?"

"Thick, hard, navy-blue, heavyweight drills. Give them a year, and they get soft. They're designed after the commando uniforms or World War II." Kid said.

"And they took my clothes - for storage, they said. Everything I brought has been locked away." Mark complained. "This place is a prison. I don't care what anyone says, it's a jail for teenagers, in the middle of nowhere."

"Just like ours," Kid said, pointing to a similar duffel bag under his bunk. "See, Chip, in this school, everyone is just like everyone else. Nobody gets to be, materially, better off than anyone else."

"That's socialism."

"No it isn't. Some of us come from very rich families - most of us do. Can you imagine the fights over who has the best flat TV screen? This way, we're all the same. It's discipline. Management."

"It sucks"

Kid nodded. "It surely does. However, we do have our moments," he said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Disable Hector, Snoops."

Snoopy flicked a pillow slip up to hang on the handle of a cupboard drawer. He reached in behind the cupboard and pulled out a length of wire with an alligator clip soldered to the end.

"Video and microphone off, Fire alarm de-activated, Sir" Snoopy said.

"Sorry if they're not your brand," Kid said, offering the packet.

Chip and Snoopy took one each, and the boys lit up. Soon, the small room was awash with smoke. Kid took a small screwdriver from his drawer, and unscrewed the window control box. He pushed a button inside, and the window clicked open. "Unofficially, they turn a blind eye to the wicked weed, but don't walk down the passage smoking openly. You'll get caned - and I mean really." He said, returning the screwdriver to the drawer.

"Any MJ?"

"Hell of a risk," Snoopy replied. "I won't say it never happens. "We're lucky. Stars is our prefect. He's head of this octet. looks after our room, and the one next door. Tal, Zed, Tango and Pilot are in there. We're lucky - they're all cool. No Ders, No Nerds, No Jocks. Eight regular guys. We like to keep it that way. On the other side of the corridor - that's tiger country. They love basketball, football, you name it, and they're in it."

"Not cool?"

"Tolerable, but not cool," Kid assured him.

A bell in the corridor chimed.

"Afternoon tea, Chip, old chap. A cup of Char in the old plantation house, with two cream biscuits and a piece of cake. It's tradition.

-0-

Beneath the old plantation house was a large concrete pad with cane tables and chairs. It had the air of genteel antiquity, Some fifty boys milled about in a group that reminded Mark of a blue inkblot. Gradually, they melded into some form of order that resolved itself as queues formed alongside urns where older boys supervised. There was a synthetic, otherworldly atmosphere of restrained politeness so unlike the gatherings of his youth.

"You're a newbie. You can sit with us, if you like," a golden headed boy said. Mark looked about for Kid or Snoopy, but they were sitting at a table that was full of boys who obviously knew each other. Suddenly, Mark felt lonely. His stomach churned over and he felt a strange longing.

"You don't look well," the blonde headed boy indicated an empty chair. "Sit down," he said.

Chip put his cup and biscuits onto the table, and sat down. "I'm Mark Bennett," he said.

"Do you have a school name yet?"

"Chip."

"Oh. That's quick. You're with Kid and Snoopy."

"Anything wrong with that?"

The boy shrugged. "You'll find out in your own time. I'm 'Lox'. Goldylocks, lose the 'goldy' and change the 'cks' to x. Schoolboy logic, I'm afraid."

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long enough to have Stockholm syndrome. That's when prisoners become fond of their captors."

"I know."

"So why are you here? Don't tell me it's for your education."

Chip looked at the beautiful lawns and garden that spread down to the wide sweep of beach, fringed with coconut trees. It was a beautiful setting for a tourist resort or high class hotel. Yet it was a secure boarding school for boys. There were lockable windows in the dormitories, and the bedrooms were bugged. The boys went along with the system. Their major criminal activity seemed to be illicit smoking. Rebellion was unfashionable, even unthinkable.

"You're right," he replied. "It's not for my education."

"Heavy shit?"

"Very heavy shit, and none of your business."

"Sorry - no offense ..."

"None taken. I'll buy it. Put up a casino and make millions."

"The Republic of Pacifica already has a Casino, and miles of beautiful beaches for resorts. It's resort rich, and tourist poor. Fact is, it's too far out to be reached easily. This school is a real little money spinner. Old fashioned single sex education, plenty of discipline, lots of the cane, boring food, army or navy cadets - take your choice, Latin, French, Math, English Lit. Right back into the nineteenth century, Tom-Brown's schooldays, and no questions asked."

"Sounds like fun," Mark said. "So it's true about the treaty? The government really hasn't got any control over the school?"

"Yes. If you're silly enough to get blood blisters across your bum, welfare isn't going to charge over the hill like the seventh cavalry. It's no good making complaints to the police. They'll merely put you in handcuffs, toss you into the back of their paddy wagon, and drive you back here to school."

"Then?"

"A month in 'Rose Cottage' doing an intensive course on obedience and good behavior."

"And the cops can't extradite you or anything?"

"Nope."

Mark sighed with relief. "I guess I'll wear the blood blisters then. If I get any."

"Shit, man. Just what did you do out there in the cruel, cruel world."

Two boys passed by the table. One of them looked at Lox with a smirk of mild contempt. "Didn't take you long to pick up a Newbie, Goldy."

"He looks cute, too," the other boy said.

"Lox, is there something you aren't telling me?" Chip asked. "No, don't bother. I can guess why you got sent here."

"My father wants to make a man of me," Lox said with a trace of bitterness behind his quiet smile. "Actually ... "

"He did you more of a favour than he knew. Right?" Mark said. He laughed out loud. "Oh, dear. It doesn't bother me. Just remember - I'm not one of the faith."

"Wouldn't have it any other way. It's nice to have someone to talk to occasionally. If you don't want those biscuits ... and don't bother about your cup. I'll take it back."

"Thanks - Lox." Chip said, getting up from the table casually. He sauntered over to Kid and Snoopy.

"Draw up a chair," Snoopy said. We wondered where you'd got to.

"Table was full," Chip said.

"Oh, not at afternoon tea. You can draw up a chair. It's one of the times we can all relax." Snoopy said.

"That's nice. There are times when we can relax," Chip said, drawing up a chair and sitting down.

--0*0--