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in here? Nico was still hanging on the phone, frowning.
    ‘Maybe what you think is an engaged tone is actually some weird international ringtone,’ I suggested. ‘Stay on the line.’
    Nico nodded. I shut the drawer, scanning the front of the cabinets, trying to make sense of the numbers on the drawer fronts. They didn’t follow on in any kind of order: 20 . . . 05, 20 . . . 08, 20 . . . 06 .
    Of course. My heart leaped. The numbers were dates . . . years . . . All I had to do was find this year and the information about Luz was bound to be inside.
    I scurried along the line. Nico was sitting on Fernandez’s desk now, peering out of the window, the phone in his hand.
    My heart was beating fast as I pulled open this year’s drawer. There were fewer folders than in the other drawers. Not surprising, considering we were only in April. I yanked out a sheaf of papers and scanned them quickly.
    Loads of kids I didn’t know. Then a sheet on Tommy, then Camila. Then Mat and Mig and the Spanish girls. I sped up, not looking at them properly. Soon I found one with my name on it, containing all the details of my cover story. Similar papers for Nico, Ketty and Dylan were underneath.
    There was nothing on Luz.
    I reached inside the drawer, clawing into the back of it. My hand made contact with something soft. Surely not the back of the filing cabinet. I felt round the edges. A padded bag, taped to the back wall of the drawer. I yanked it out. The tape made a ripping noise as it pulled easily away from the drawer. I got the impression it had been attached and removed several times.
    ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Nico hissed.
    But I barely heard him. I stared at the outside of the bag – it was a plain, yellow padded envelope with just one word – Escondite – written on the outside in thick black ink. I shoved my hand inside and yanked out a bundle of papers. The word policia – ‘police’ – hit me straight off – it was written at the top of the first sheet and on the next few. I flicked through them. These were some kind of official forms – all written in Spanish. Most of them had kids’ photographs pinned to the top. My heart thudded. From the Spanish I knew, I was sure these were police reports on children in trouble with the law. Could these be the police van kids? The ones Tommy said came and went from the camp? Why would Fernandez have all their details on file?
    Sweat trickled down my neck as I scanned through the photos pinned to the sheets, searching for Luz.
    Across the room, Nico had hung up and was dialling again, swearing under his breath.
    A boy, two more, then a girl . . . There . Luz’s face stared back at me from her picture. Despite the fuzzy lines of the photo she looked beautiful – her sea-green eyes huge in her face. I unclipped the photo and held my torch closer.
    ‘ Ed! ’ Nico gasped. ‘Listen!’
    I turned towards the door, shoving the torch and picture of Luz into my pocket. The unmistakable sound of footsteps thumped down the corridor outside.
    Nico and I stared at each other for a split second.
    ‘Hide!’ he whispered, putting down the phone. He ducked behind the desk.
    I shoved the police reports back in the padded envelope, pressed the envelope and tape back into place and pushed the drawer shut.
    As I squeezed into the space between the end filing cabinet and the wall, Nico raised his hand slightly and twisted it. All the drawers clicked gently shut.
    And then the door opened and Fernandez walked in.
     
5: Demerits
    I held my breath as Fernandez marched straight to the desk where Nico was hiding.
    ‘You little bastard,’ he snapped, hauling Nico up from behind the desk by his hair.
    ‘Ow,’ Nico yelped.
    I froze, shrinking into the shadows . . . praying he wouldn’t see me.
    ‘What the hell are you doing in here, Nico?’ Fernandez glanced round at the desk, his gaze sweeping from the PC to the books to the papers. His eyes lit on the phone. ‘You were trying to call