Free Maxwell's Island by M.J. Trow

Castle. As you have the smallest group, you will be dropped off last and the coach driver will be your health and safety backup.’ He turned his radiant smile on Pansy, with no effect. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’ he asked Maxwell.
    Maxwell had no idea. Lists were for other people, but he thoroughly approved of the fossil coast idea. What he didn’t approve of was Guy’s use of the word ‘myself’, but they were all on holiday and standards could be allowed to drop a little. He smiled and nodded, as if he knew what was going on. He looked around the room. ‘Has anyone seen the Medlicotts, while we’re listing people?’
    There was general head shaking, except from Pansy, who was sitting as totally still as she could manage, with her eyes closed. A child on the nearest table who had been frantically earwigging hoping to hear something to her advantage leant over.
    â€˜Mr and Mrs Medlicott went out for a run,’ she volunteered. ‘I just saw them come back up the front steps.’
    â€˜Thank you, Jazmyn,’ Sylvia said. She turned back to her colleagues. ‘Ears like a bat,’ she mouthed. ‘Watch what you say in front of her.’ Shelooked anxiously at Pansy and then at Guy. ‘Do you have the group lists?’ she asked him.
    He foraged in his bag and handed them over. She looked down the lists and then handed it across to Maxwell, pointing pointedly at a name.
    â€˜Point taken,’ he said. ‘We’ll move her. As long as she isn’t the vegan.’
    They looked across at the child, who was eating a sausage thick with brown sauce.
    â€˜Whilst allowing that a sausage isn’t necessarily meat as we know it,’ Maxwell said, ‘I think we can assume she isn’t. Move her, then.’ He looked again at the paper and made a few changes.
    Jacquie, a little rumpled, got back to the table carrying a tray. ‘It’s like … it’s like …’ She was lost for words.
    â€˜And this is a woman,’ Maxwell said, pulling out her chair for her and bobbing up as he always did when a lady joined the table, ‘who arrests axe murderers on a daily basis. And even she is horrified by the shenanigans of Year Seven.’
    She smiled modestly. ‘I haven’t arrested an axe murderer for days, Mr Maxwell. I’ve been concentrating on poisoners since August Bank Holiday.’
    Maxwell patted her on the back. ‘Keeping the streets safe,’ he said proudly and he lapsed into the tag line of an old TV show he had almost forgotten. ‘“There are eight million stories in the Naked City. This has been one of them.”’
    The bat-eared child couldn’t make it out. Was all that true or not? This Big School lark wasn’t as easy as she’d been expecting.
    The noise got less as more mouths got filled by food, then rose again in a slow crescendo, underscored by burping. Maxwell got to his feet and quietly cleared his throat. The noise stopped as though switched off at the wall.
    â€˜I’m going to read out the final lists for activities today. Remember the people on either side of your name and then you’ll always know if you are with the right group. When I have finished, you have half an hour to get back to your rooms and into appropriate clothing and back down to the lobby, where you will wait in silence, in lines. You won’t make a single sound while I am speaking or I will kill you. You won’t argue, or I will kill you. Is there anyone who doubts that I will kill you?’ His eyes raked round the room. Not a soul stirred, especially not the traveller in underwear. ‘Good.’ He read out the lists of names. They were met by silence. ‘Right, everyone back up to their rooms. The clock is ticking.’ The room erupted in bedlam. ‘Silently!’ He raised his voice a scary notch and the noise was muted to a dull roar. He sat back down and slurped