‘So it was Oriana de la Force behind the kidnapping,’ said Boges, munching through a second slice of cake. ‘We think she has the Ormond Riddle and the Ormond Jewel. And now she has the drawings too—thinks she has the drawings—’ he corrected, throwing an admiring look at Winter.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Now she thinks she has everything. Which is good in a way, because it gets her off our back. I hope. And now that Gabbi’s safe, the next thing to do is—’
‘Get the Riddle and the Jewel back,’ Winter finished for me. ‘It’s not going to be easy. From what you said about her place, it’ll be like Rafe’s place—trying to get past security at Fort Knox.’
We sat in silence for a few moments; the only sound in the flat was the distant traffic rising up from below. I realised my mind was always scanning background noises. Anything resembling a siren made me edgy.
‘But check this,’ Boges said, pulling out a folded printed page from his pocket.
‘What is it?’ I asked, leaning over to take it from him.
‘I found this on your blog last night.’
The missing two lines! Could it be true?
‘I guess we can look into this guy,’ I said. ‘I mean, make sure he is who he says he is. That he really works at Trinity College; that he really is the Keeper of Rare Books. If he checks out,’ I said, my excitement building, ‘this could be awesome! I wonder if Dad met this guy when he was in Ireland.’
‘You should call Eric Blair again,’ said Boges. ‘He was willing to talk, right? He might know about him. We have to be careful—who knows if we can trust this Dr Theophilus Brinsley—but if he’s legit, we could already have an ally over there who has crucial information for us about the Ormond Singularity.’
‘We have to go to Ireland,’ Winter announced matter-of-factly.
Boges looked at her, a little surprised. ‘That won’t be easy.’
‘Now that’s an understatement,’ she replied. ‘But I’m serious. We have to. Ireland is where it all started. We have to get the Riddle and the Jewel back, and we have to go to Ireland.’
‘Yep,’ I agreed. ‘It’s where Dad first stumbled on the amazing secret to do with our family. And it’s where his investigations ended—where he got sick, where he had to leave it behind before coming back home to the hospice.’
‘It’s where the photos come from,’ added Winter. ‘We still have those, don’t we?’
‘Over there,’ I said, pointing to them. ‘I didn’t hand them over.’
‘Great. We need to check all of those locations out.’
I nodded. ‘We don’t have any choice. It’s really our last hope. Winter’s right. We have to go to Ireland.’
‘Look, talking about this is all well and good, but how do you think we’re going to get there? Do I need to remind you that you’re a wanted criminal? I don’t have a passport. Neither do you. And even if you did have one, you’d be tracked down and arrested in seconds. You’d be on a watch list at every airport out of the country. Plus we’re going to need a few thousand bucks.’
Boges was right. ‘I know all that,’ I conceded. ‘We can’t do it right now. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work towards it. Maybe Sharkey can help us out.’
‘More than ever, we have to find the Riddle and the Jewel,’ said Boges.
‘I told you I have a plan,’ I said, ‘that I hope will help make that happen.’
‘Something to do with this?’ he said, reaching for a pocket in his duffel bag. He lifted out a small object in a blister pack and placed it on the table in front of us.
‘I could only afford one. It’s the latest from Russia—made under magnification—using nanotechnology,’ Boges explained. ‘The latest in nanotechnology at least for the Russians. The Israelis and Americans probably have better gear, but it’s not available to people like me yet. This pretty much cleaned out my savings, dude.’
‘Unreal,’ I said, barely hearing him as I picked up the packet, examining the small, round object inside. ‘Thanks. This reminds me of the bug that Oriana de la Force implanted in my shoulder,’ I added, picking up the tiny device with my thumb and forefinger.
‘Cal, what’s going on? I can’t stand the suspense,’ said Winter, twisting her wild hair up into a knot on the top of her head. I smiled, thinking of how she used to torment me in the same way, teasing me by taking her time telling me something I was dying to know.
‘It’s a tiny transmitter, tuned to a particular radio frequency,’ Boges explained, ‘but the bandwidth is way under the usual station numbers you have on a regular radio. This transmits at around 32–33 megahertz. All we need then is an FM receiver tuned to pick up that wavelength.
Then we can pick up whatever this little sucker broadcasts.’
‘And then we can listen in?’ Winter asked. ‘Just like listening to the radio?’
‘That’s right,’ said Boges, ‘except for just one little problem. We can only listen for a limited amount of time.’
‘How limited?’
‘Probably not more than ten to twelve hours.’
‘I don’t get it,’ I said. ‘Oriana was on my tail for months, not hours.’
‘This thing’s different. It’s a listening device with a little microphone. The bug implanted in your shoulder only sent out a tiny signal. It didn’t use much power. Like your watch battery. This one needs much more energy to work.’
‘So you’re going to bug Oriana?’ Winter asked.
Boges and I nodded slowly.
‘If we can listen in to her conversations,’ I said, ‘I feel sure we’ll hear something. Something that will give us an idea of where she’s hidden the Riddle and the Jewel.’
‘We’re not going to hear very much unless we’re close,’ explained Boges. ‘We probably need to be within five hundred metres of wherever you put the transmitter.’
‘But how are you going to get the bug inside Oriana’s house?’ Winter asked.
‘It was Maggers who gave me the idea,’ I said. ‘I saw him again, remember?’
‘So you’re going to fly through a window like a bird?’ Winter asked, in her old mocking tone.
‘Something like that,’ I replied, looking over at Boges, hoping he’d brought the air rifle in his duffel bag.
Right on cue, he unzipped it and lifted the projectile weapon out of its casing.
‘You’re going to shoot the bug into Oriana de la Force’s house!’ cried Winter.
‘Do you think you can do it?’ I asked Boges. ‘Attach the bug to something that can be fired?’
‘I know I can do it,’ said Boges, confidently. ‘No problem. I still have heaps of those darts we used to fire from the air rifle when we ran out of our little parachute soldiers.’
‘They mostly ended up stuck in trees,’ I explained to Winter. ‘Or on rooftops.’
‘You’ll only get one chance at it,’ she said. ‘Better make it a good shot.’
The three of us looked at each other in silence.
‘It’s a good plan, dude. I couldn’t have thought of a better way in myself. I’ll get to work on creating a carrier for the bug, contributing some of my brilliant brainpower.’
‘Sure you have any left?’ Winter asked. ‘Now that you’ve lost your curls? Remember Samson? He lost all his strength when his hair was cut.’
‘When he was betrayed by that evil chick, Delilah,’ Boges reminded her.
‘I’m sure she had her reasons,’ Winter came back fast at him.
‘You know the big pine tree that I climbed up way back?’ I cut into their banter. ‘When I took that photo of Oriana? I’m going to use that tree again—climb up until I’m opposite the window, take aim and with a bit of luck I’ll fire the bug right in. By then, Boges, you will have adapted it for me, so that it sticks to the wall across from the window. Somewhere it won’t be noticed.’
‘Leave it to me, dude. I’ll design something that no-one will take any notice of—even if they see it.’
‘Cool,’ I said. ‘L
ike what?’
‘I’ll surprise you.’
‘Boges, speaking of surprises … What did you tell your mum,’ asked Winter, ‘about your new hairstyle?’
Boges ran a hand over his now finely bristled dome.
‘I kind of made something up,’ he said, sheepishly. ‘I said I did it for charity.’
‘For charity? You lied about charity?’
‘I know, I didn’t know what to say! But what better charity case than helping to save Gabbi? I can’t think of one.’
I couldn’t either, when he put it like that.
‘Gran just about fainted when she saw it. Thought there was an intruder in the house. Mum had to calm her down.’
‘I kind of like it,’ said Winter.
Boges threw me a look. ‘Maddy likes it, too.’
Winter raised an eyebrow.
I turned my attention back to business, pulling out my mobile. ‘I’m going to email Dr Brinsley.’
108 days to go …
I couldn’t do anything much about bugging Oriana de la Force’s place until Boges had modified the listening device and the air rifle chamber. But I had made another trip to her house to monitor the premises. Keeping well back, I watched the comings and goings, trying to get a sense of the rhythm of Oriana’s days and the movements of the bodyguards who were looking out for her. They patrolled at regular intervals, at more or less the same time every day and night.
Back in the mansion, I decided to call Eric Blair.
‘Eric Blair,’ he said. With just two words, I could tell he was much more confident and together than the last time I spoke to him.
‘Mr Blair, it’s Cal.’
There was a stunned silence which I rushed to fill before he could say anything. ‘Last time I called you said you’d be happy to talk to me. Can you talk now?’
‘Is that really you, Cal? I didn’t think you’d call me again. Not after you gave me a dud number last time.’
‘Sorry about that. My phone was out of action. Please believe me when I say that I had nothing to do with the crimes that I’ve been charged with. I haven’t hurt anyone. I’ve been caught up in a … in a mess that’s been out of my control. I’m desperately trying to clear my name and track down something concerning my family and our future. I’m really hoping you can help me.’
‘Cal,’ he said, ‘I know you’re innocent.’
‘You do?’
Was he for real or was this a trick? Had he warned the police that I said I was going to call him again?
‘I do,’ was all he said in reply.
‘I’m hoping you can help me out with information about Dad and those days you spent together in Ireland—’
‘OK,’ he said, cutting me short. ‘I’m more than happy to pass on whatever I can, but I can’t do it right now—I’m just about to fly out to cover the climate change conference in Lisbon. I’ll call you when I’m back again and we’ll work something out. Very carefully, of course.’
‘Sure, I understand.’ Aiding and abetting a wanted criminal would not look good on Mr Blair’s resume.
‘Are you safe?’ he asked.
‘I’m safe,’ I said, surprised by his concern. ‘I’m getting pretty good at flying beneath the radar.’
‘Good, well give me your number and I will call you as soon as I’m back in the country.’
106 days to go …
When Winter finally opened her door, it was obvious she’d been crying.
‘Hey,’ I said, dumping my backpack on the floor. ‘What’s wrong? What is it?’
‘Oh, nothing, just the usual stuff,’ she said, going into the little bathroom and looking at her reflection in the mirror. ‘I can never get away with crying without everyone who sees me knowing about it. My eyes always go so red and puffy.’ She splashed water on her face, and then dried herself on the hand towel nearby. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, looking defeated—something I rarely saw in her. ‘Sometimes,’ she said with a sigh, ‘I think I’ll never find out what really happened to them.’
‘To your parents?’
She nodded. ‘I know there’s no use crying about it. Crying’s not going to find me any answers.’
We both wandered over to the couch and let ourselves fall into it.
‘Cal, will you help me with something?’
‘Of course I will. What is it?’
‘I need you to help me find the car.’
Winter and I hurried through the night, heads down against the cold wind that was blowing from the north-west.
She was wearing the same dark brown hoodie, pulled up around her face, that she was wearing that night back in February, when I’d seen her prowling around the car yard and mistaken her for a boy. All of her hair was tucked away, out of sight, and she was wearing jeans and boots. Clearly she didn’t want anyone recognising her.
‘Any news on Sligo getting you your own car?’ I asked, as we both rushed along on foot.
She laughed. ‘No, Max says he’s working on it, but I don’t think it will happen any time soon. Your legs will just have to put up with it for now.’
I groaned, loudly.
‘Are you sure you want to do this with me?’ she asked.
‘Of course I am. You’ve helped me out so much.
Not to mention saving my life. But that’s not the reason,’ I said. ‘We’re friends. That’s what friends do, right?’
Winter Frey really has the best smile, thought to myself.
I shivered, remembering the first time I’d been here, the brutal interrogation and the terror of the fast-filling oil tank.
‘This place gives me the creeps,’ I said as we hurried down the road past the high wire fence that surrounded the yard, heading around the corner where the main gates were. ‘I’m not sure I understand what we’re doing here exactly.’
Winter paused and pulled me under the shelter of an overhanging peppercorn tree.
‘I’m trying to find the car—my parents’ car.’
I frowned. ‘But haven’t you already searched this place?’
‘When I was here the other day, I noticed that a section of the yard—a row of cars—had been shifted, which means I can now access the pile of wrecks that were behind them.’
‘OK, but the car was involved in a fatal accident; wouldn’t it have gone to a police car yard?’
‘Yes, until the accident investigation was finished.’
‘What do you mean—accident?’ I asked. ‘Are you saying you think there was foul play involved?’
Winter shrugged off my question.
‘Wouldn’t it have been destroyed?’ I continued.
‘Look, Cal, I have to find out for sure. If it’s not here, it’s not here. But I just have this feeling something is here, waiting for me to find it. It doesn’t make sense, but something keeps drawing me back. Cars are usually destroyed,’ she said, ‘but in this case, things were different. Sligo was friends with one of the local cops at Boronia Ridge—near where the crash happened—and that cop did the original investigation. I saw the report about a year after it happened. Sligo’s signature was scrawled across the receipt, which means the car went to his yard.’
Winter paused to tuck a strand of loose hair back up into her hoodie.
‘The investigation found that Dad had lost control of the car on that sharp bend,’ she continued. ‘They said speed was involved and that wet weather and worn brakes played their part, too. But, I swear, Dad was so protective of me and Mum … he would never have put us both in danger by speeding. And I remember … I think I remember … he was shocked when it happened. Something was wrong. The car skidded out of control and slammed off the road. I was thrown out, unharmed, while Mum and Dad crashed down the side of the mountain.’
She turned away to hide the tears in her eyes. I took her hand.
‘I just need to see the car,’ she sobbed. ‘I just need to see it.’
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘You need to see the car, so let’s go fi
nd it.’
Winter selected a key from her key ring and quickly unlocked the padlock that connected the gates.
‘You have a key to Sligo’s car yard?’ I asked.
‘I have the keys to a lot of things.’
We slipped through quickly and Winter connected the two gates together again loosely, without locking it. That suited me. A quick getaway should always be factored in.
‘Here,’ she said, handing me a small black torch from her bag. She pulled out an identical one for herself.
‘Where are we going to start?’ I wondered, looking at the sprawling jumble of old car bodies. Some were half hidden under rotting tarpaulins, some were piled on top of each other like stacks of squashed beetles. The rusty chrome and paintwork reflected our torchlight as we moved.
‘We need to be careful not to activate the sensor lights. Let’s stay as far from the building as possible,’ she said, as we headed off down a walkway between the car bodies. Winter waved her left arm, indicating the crowded tangle of cars on the side closest to the road we’d come along. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ve done all of this side, and I’ve been through that entire area up there behind the office.’ She pointed to an area on our far right. ‘That’s where I want to go. That’s the lot that couldn’t be accessed before.’
‘Hey,’ I said, ‘let’s just make sure there’s no-one in the office.’ I’d learned to be very cautious in my months on the run. I didn’t take anything for granted.
The office block appeared to be in darkness.
‘There’s no-one there,’ she said. I hoped she knew what she was talking about. ‘Don’t go any closer,’ she warned, again. ‘You don’t want to set off the sensor lights.’
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘Let’s keep the noise down and stay down low.’
September Page 4
