in the bin under his long desk, plus a row of empty coffee cups.
‘Burning the midnight oil?’
‘Not on Burning Truths. But only because there’s nothing going on there tonight.’
Because whoever’s behind it was at the party , I think, but I don’t say so, because it might sound paranoid.
‘So what are you having, Alice? Wine? Beer?’
‘I think I’ve had too much already. Cara’s been trying to lead me astray.
He raises his eyebrows. ‘Hmm. Not sure I approve of that. You’re not even seventeen, yet, right? Not till . . .’ and he stops. No one can think of my birthday without also
thinking of Meggie’s last hours.
‘Thanks for the advice, Granddad,’ I say, to cut through the tension. ‘Could you spare a Diet Coke? That is, if there’s any left.’
‘Pretty much all there is in my fridge.’ He goes into the kitchen area and opens the fridge door. ‘Other millionaires have shelf after shelf of champagne. I have low-calorie
caffeinated drinks.’ He hands me a can.
‘A millionaire. Is that what you are?’
He blushes. ‘It’s just what I tell girls to impress them.’
I blush back. ‘The party was crap, anyway. Ade and Sahara invited me. And now they want me to go to Spain with them, too. To Barcelona, for some midsummer firework fiesta. It’ll be
not long after the anniver— After my birthday.’
‘It’ll be nice weather, I bet. It’ll probably still be snowing here.’
‘I don’t know if I’ll go, to be honest. They’re a bit full on. Hey, unless you fancy coming along, too?’
I don’t know why I just said that. I sound embarrassingly needy, as though I’m scared to do anything without him at my side.
Lewis doesn’t say anything else, but goes to the microwave and puts something inside. Within a few seconds, explosive pops fill the silence. ‘You’ll join me in some supper?
Corn counts as one of my five a day.’
‘According to who?’
‘Me.’
I laugh. ‘And I guess when you drink Cherry Coke, that counts as a fruit, right?’
‘I like your logic, Ali. So you didn’t fancy going home yet. What shall we do instead?’
I want to go onto Burning Truths myself, and the Beach, to see if I can make more sense of what happened at the party. But it’d be seriously rude to come over here only to ask Lewis to go
to bed while I go online. ‘Tell me what you’ve been working on, Lewis.’
‘Why, have you got insomnia?’
‘No. I’m simply interested in what you get up to when you’re not cracking international mysteries.’
He’s weighing up whether I’m joking. ‘Well, OK, if you really want to know.’ He goes to the desk, pulls up a second chair.
‘This is the day job.’ Lewis points to the first screen, which shows a constantly changing set of figures. ‘Routine maintenance. Virus diagnosis. Yawn. But it pays the rent on
this place and finances this . . .’ he points to the middle screen, which has five or six different windows showing news pages and live chat, ‘which is the fun stuff. Experiments.
Hacker baiting. One day I’ll design a trap that won’t just stop the bastards getting into your computer, it’ll root them out, too.’
‘Aren’t hackers . . . kind of cool?’
‘The ones you see on the news. The ones hacking into the Pentagon to point out security flaws, they can be cool. But most of the others are criminals. They exploit people. I hate the idea
that the web ends up dangerous. It shouldn’t. It’s about democracy.’
‘You sound really passionate about it.’
He nods. ‘Sure am. And not just because if I crack this, I’ll end up richer than Zuckerberg. It’s why I like puzzles like your Burning Truths site. The answers aren’t
always about fancy code. They’re about psychology, about . . . Alice?’
I lean in closer to the screen.
‘I know you think I’m a geek, but it’s a bit off to ignore your host while they’re telling you about their life’s mission, don’t you think?’
I sigh. ‘Sorry. I
‘Burning the midnight oil?’
‘Not on Burning Truths. But only because there’s nothing going on there tonight.’
Because whoever’s behind it was at the party , I think, but I don’t say so, because it might sound paranoid.
‘So what are you having, Alice? Wine? Beer?’
‘I think I’ve had too much already. Cara’s been trying to lead me astray.
He raises his eyebrows. ‘Hmm. Not sure I approve of that. You’re not even seventeen, yet, right? Not till . . .’ and he stops. No one can think of my birthday without also
thinking of Meggie’s last hours.
‘Thanks for the advice, Granddad,’ I say, to cut through the tension. ‘Could you spare a Diet Coke? That is, if there’s any left.’
‘Pretty much all there is in my fridge.’ He goes into the kitchen area and opens the fridge door. ‘Other millionaires have shelf after shelf of champagne. I have low-calorie
caffeinated drinks.’ He hands me a can.
‘A millionaire. Is that what you are?’
He blushes. ‘It’s just what I tell girls to impress them.’
I blush back. ‘The party was crap, anyway. Ade and Sahara invited me. And now they want me to go to Spain with them, too. To Barcelona, for some midsummer firework fiesta. It’ll be
not long after the anniver— After my birthday.’
‘It’ll be nice weather, I bet. It’ll probably still be snowing here.’
‘I don’t know if I’ll go, to be honest. They’re a bit full on. Hey, unless you fancy coming along, too?’
I don’t know why I just said that. I sound embarrassingly needy, as though I’m scared to do anything without him at my side.
Lewis doesn’t say anything else, but goes to the microwave and puts something inside. Within a few seconds, explosive pops fill the silence. ‘You’ll join me in some supper?
Corn counts as one of my five a day.’
‘According to who?’
‘Me.’
I laugh. ‘And I guess when you drink Cherry Coke, that counts as a fruit, right?’
‘I like your logic, Ali. So you didn’t fancy going home yet. What shall we do instead?’
I want to go onto Burning Truths myself, and the Beach, to see if I can make more sense of what happened at the party. But it’d be seriously rude to come over here only to ask Lewis to go
to bed while I go online. ‘Tell me what you’ve been working on, Lewis.’
‘Why, have you got insomnia?’
‘No. I’m simply interested in what you get up to when you’re not cracking international mysteries.’
He’s weighing up whether I’m joking. ‘Well, OK, if you really want to know.’ He goes to the desk, pulls up a second chair.
‘This is the day job.’ Lewis points to the first screen, which shows a constantly changing set of figures. ‘Routine maintenance. Virus diagnosis. Yawn. But it pays the rent on
this place and finances this . . .’ he points to the middle screen, which has five or six different windows showing news pages and live chat, ‘which is the fun stuff. Experiments.
Hacker baiting. One day I’ll design a trap that won’t just stop the bastards getting into your computer, it’ll root them out, too.’
‘Aren’t hackers . . . kind of cool?’
‘The ones you see on the news. The ones hacking into the Pentagon to point out security flaws, they can be cool. But most of the others are criminals. They exploit people. I hate the idea
that the web ends up dangerous. It shouldn’t. It’s about democracy.’
‘You sound really passionate about it.’
He nods. ‘Sure am. And not just because if I crack this, I’ll end up richer than Zuckerberg. It’s why I like puzzles like your Burning Truths site. The answers aren’t
always about fancy code. They’re about psychology, about . . . Alice?’
I lean in closer to the screen.
‘I know you think I’m a geek, but it’s a bit off to ignore your host while they’re telling you about their life’s mission, don’t you think?’
I sigh. ‘Sorry. I
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