Read Point Blanc for Free Online Page B

school."
    "Paul
and Dimitry..." Alex was puzzled. "What was a Russian boy doing
at a school in New York?"
    "He
wasn't in New York." Blunt took over. "As I told you, Roscoe
was having trouble with his boy. Trouble at school, trouble at home. So last
year he decided to take action. He sent Paul to Europe, to a place in France a
sort of finishing school. Do you know what a finishing school is?"
    "I
thought it was the sort of place where rich people used to send their
daughters," Alex said. "To learn table manners."
    "That's
the general idea. But this school is for boys only, and not just ordinary boys.
The fees are fifteen thousand dollars a term. This is the brochure here. You
can have a look." He passed a heavy square booklet to Alex. Written on
the cover, gold letters on black, were two words: POINT BLANC.
"It's right on the French-Swiss border," he explained.
"South of Geneva. Just above Grenoble, in the French Alps. It's
pronounced
Point Blanc
."
He spoke the words with a French accent. "Literally, white point.
It's a remarkable place. Built as a private home by some lunatic in the
nineteenth century. As a matter of fact, that's what it became after he
died--a lunatic asylum. It was taken over by the Germans in the Second
World War. They used it as a recreation center for their senior staff. After
that it fell into disrepair until it was bought by the current owner, a man
called Grief. Dr. Hugo Grief. He's the principal of the school."
    Alex opened
the brochure and found himself looking at a color photograph of Point Blanc. Blunt
was right. The school was like nothing he had ever seen, something between a
German castle and a French chateau, straight out of a Grimms' fairy
tale. But what made Alex draw his breath, more than the building itself, was
the setting. The school was perched on top of a mountain, with nothing but
mountains all around, a great pile of brick and stone surrounded by a
snow-covered landscape. It seemed to have no business being there, as if it had
been snatched out of an ancient city and accidentally dropped there. No roads
led to or from the school. The snow continued all the way to the front gate.
But looking again, Alex saw a modern helicopter pad projecting over the
battlements. He guessed that it was the only way to get there ... and to
leave.
    He turned another
page.
    Welcome
to the Academy at Point Blanc
, the introduction began. It had been printed
with the sort of lettering Alex would expect to find in the menu of an
expensive restaurant.
A
unique school that is much more than a school, created for boys who need more
than the ordinary education system can provide. In our time, we have been
called a school for
"
problem
children
,"
but
we do not believe the term applies. There are problems and there are children.
It is our aim to separate the two
.
    "There's
no need to read all that stuff," Blunt said. "All you need to know
is that the academy takes in boys who have been expelled from all their other
schools. There are never very many of them there--just six or seven at a
time. And it's unique in other ways too. For a start, it takes only the
sons of the super-rich."
    "At
fifteen thousand dollars per term, I'm not surprised," Alex said.
    "You'd
be surprised just how many parents have applied to send their sons
there," Blunt went on. "But I suppose you've only got to look
at the newspapers to see how easy it is to go off the rails when you're
born with a silver spoon in your mouth. It doesn't matter if
they're politicians or pop stars, fame and fortune for the parents often
bring problems for the children ... and the more successful they are, the
more pressure there seems to be. The academy went into business to straighten
the young people out, and by all accounts it's been a great
success."
    "It was
established twenty years ago," Mrs. Jones said. "In that time
it's had a client list you'd find hard to believe. Of course,
they've kept the names confidential. But I can tell you that parents