September

by Gabrielle Lord

  104 days to go …

  Repro was standing the two skeletons next to each other when I approached him with his cup of tea. He’d popped a floral, straw hat and a string of beads on one, and had draped an army overcoat and an eye patch on the other.

  He looked at me for my reaction as he wedged a pipe in the rattling teeth of the skeleton in the overcoat.

  ‘What a good-looking pair, eh?’ he joked.

  ‘Sure are,’ I said as I passed him his tea. ‘Listen, I’m going to try and visit my sister later today.’

  ‘Your sister? Didn’t you say your uncle has the place all locked up? You only just got your sister back. You don’t want to go and mess it all up by getting caught now.’

  ‘No, I do not want to do that. But I do want to see Gabbi. Even if she doesn’t see me. I just need to know she’s OK. For myself.’

  ‘Right, right. One has to look after his family,’ Repro agreed. ‘Family is most important. You do whatever you have to do. Just don’t let anyone follow you back here.’

  I’d slipped out from Repro’s at dusk. For the outing, I’d borrowed a black jacket, a beanie and a pair of binoculars from his collection.

  By the time I reached Rafe’s house, it was dark. On the way, I’d picked up a handful of leaflets, advertising a local house painter and gardener, which someone had abandoned near an overflowing bin. I had to be careful not to raise suspicion by hanging around this expensive end of town, so whenever anyone passed me by I pretended I was merely dropping the leaflets into letterboxes.

  Cautiously, I peered through the front gate. The street outside was quiet, but I had to make sure I wasn’t going to get caught on any cameras or set off any alarms if I came too close to the house. I’d promised Gabbi I’d visit her, even though I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I needed to be exceptionally careful.

  I pulled out the binoculars to take a better look.

  A couple of lights were on upstairs, and one seemed to be switched on near the rear of the house—a terrace area where I recalled Rafe had an outdoor table setting. I scanned the top edges of the house, counting the cameras and sensors that were perched beneath the roof guttering. I worked out the best way in, dodging the scope of the surveillance equipment.

  I hoped that the narrow path I had plotted out was going to work for me. If not, I’d be in big trouble.

  At the bushiest spot along the fence line, I climbed up and over. I landed almost silently on the other side.

  The yard seemed greener and denser than when I’d been here before with Boges, all that time ago in January, looking for the envelope containing my dad’s drawings.

  I sidled along the fence, trying to work out exactly where Gabbi would be. Not only were there cameras and sensors, but there were grilles on every window. On the entrance foyer were bifold steel mesh doors.

  Upstairs, in the middle of the front of the house, there were two windows with a soft light behind them. I felt pretty sure that was where Gabbi’s new room was. I started making my way up a tree, to get a better look in. From my position—facing the house, but just to the side—I could see what was going on out the front, and down one side leading to the backyard.

  Another light came on in the house. It was the room that I recalled had been Rafe’s study, where I’d first seen the scribbled phrase, ‘Ormond Riddle’. A silhouette, which I guessed was Rafe, moved past the window.

  I shuffled into a more stable position in the tree so that I could free my hands to use the binoculars once more.

  Through them, everything was much clearer. I could see Gabbi’s old furniture—her dressing table and cupboard—in the room I had guessed was hers.

  All of a sudden she walked past my vision.

  My heart started racing. I wanted to shout out to her. Tell her to come outside.

  She was wandering around the room, moving things here and there. She was wearing a pink nightie and white, fluffy slippers.

  Rafe’s silhouette appeared in her doorway. I watched as Gabbi turned in his direction.

  She ran over to him, hugging his waist. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, before leaving the room again.

  For a moment it had looked like Dad was in there with her.

  How was I going to let Gabbi know I was there? That I’d come to see her?

  Just as I was racking my brain for an idea, Gabbi pulled open one of her bedroom windows. She was leaning on the window sill and staring out, through the bars, into the night sky.

  Whenever Dad used to go away on overseas trips, he’d tell both of us to look out into the night sky and stare at the stars. Even if we’re on opposite sides of the world, he’d say, we’re still looking at exactly the same stars.

  He said it mostly for Gabbi’s sake, but it always made both of us feel closer to him.

  For a moment I felt like she knew I was there. But how could she?

  I stared at my sister’s face.

  She was frowning.

  I froze, hearing someone coming along the path down the side of the house. I ducked down closer to the trunk of the tree.

  The footsteps came closer and closer to my position. I hardly dared to breathe. Through a break in the leaves, I could see Rafe walking past, carrying a cup of tea. He paused just beyond where I was hiding. What was he standing there for? Had he heard something? Did he sense my presence? I didn’t dare move and run the risk of rustling the leaves.

  ‘Win?’ I heard him call. ‘Win? Is that you?’

  My body tensed up.

  My mum’s voice called out from the back patio. I could just see her silhouette at the edge of the paving, small and hunched over a table. ‘I’m out here.’

  Seeing the similarities between Rafe and my dad had me thinking of Ryan Spencer again, and how much I just wanted to ask my mum about it and get a straight answer. A straight explanation.

  ‘I have your cup of tea for you,’ Rafe said, walking over and carefully transferring it to my mum’s hands. ‘Were you out the front a moment ago?’

  ‘No,’ she said after a pause. ‘How come?’

  ‘I thought I saw someone. Through the window.’

  ‘It was probably just next-door’s cat. She’s a black cat, sometimes jumps up on the windows, behind the grilles.’

  ‘I’m going to check the grounds,’ said Rafe, ‘and make sure there’s no-one here.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, you know,’ my mum said gently. ‘You can’t blame yourself for Gabbi’s kidnapping. You did everything you could to protect her.’

  ‘One can always do more,’ he said, walking off.

  He came back to the front of the house and pulled a torch out of his back pocket. What if he shone it up the tree I was hiding in?

  ‘Rafe?’ Mum called. Her voice sounded tired, but relieved. ‘Look, it is the cat. There she is, just trotting up behind you.’

  Rafe turned around again and looked down at the cat.

  ‘So it is,’ he said. He shook his head then wandered back inside the house. Mum slowly stood up from the table and followed him, cautiously carrying the cup of tea out in front of her.

  Thank you, thank you, thank you, next-door’s cat!

  The black cat stalked away along the path, tail held high. Who said black cats were unlucky?

  Gabbi was still in the window, frowning at the sky.

  An idea suddenly came to me.

  Gabbi always used to ask me to draw her pictures of cats. Sometimes they were of Snuggles—our old pet cat—and sometimes they were just of any cat or kitten wearing a funny expression. She used to have a few of them stuck around her bedroom mirror. I pulled out the folded leaflets from my backpack, and dug around for a pen.

  I quickly scribbled a smiling cartoon cat saying ‘Hi!’ on the back of one of the leaflets. I folded the whole thing into a paper aeroplane and took aim at her window.

  At that moment, Gabbi stood upright and disappeared from the window.

  Please don’t shut it, I begged silently.

  She d
idn’t.

  I knew it was a long shot, but I took aim and deftly propelled the paper plane through the air towards the window.

  Miraculously, it snuck in perfectly between two of the vertical bars that crossed her window and landed somewhere on the floor inside!

  Gabbi would know right away that it was a message from me, while anyone else picking it up would see nothing but a silly cat drawing.

  I peered through the window with my binoculars, hoping to see her find it.

  She was sitting at her dressing table, combing her hair. She stopped all of a sudden, like she’d seen the reflection of something unusual in the mirror.

  My heart pumped with excitement when I saw her jump off her chair and run to the plane on the floor. Her face lit up when she unfolded it like a long-awaited Christmas present.

  I wanted so badly to call out—for her to see me—but I knew I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t risk her blowing my cover by accident. I shrank away further into the tree to hide.

  She leapt to her feet and ran to the window, clutching the picture of the cat at her chest. Her eyes searched the yard.

  The smile on her face was undeniable.

  103 days to go …

  It was creepy sitting outside Ryan Spencer’s window, watching him sleep.

  After seeing—hearing—Mum for those few brief moments at Rafe’s place, I decided something had to be done. I needed answers. I needed to know who Ryan was. I needed to know who I was. And I needed Mum to know what I knew.

  Right now I had my eye on his bus pass, sitting on the floor by his backpack.

  I carefully slid my fingers under his window, which was open only a centimetre, and slowly started lifting it. A cold wind blew in and I hoped it wouldn’t wake him up.

  Soundlessly, I squeezed my body, right leg first, into his room. Once inside I snatched up the bus pass and slipped it into my pocket, but before I could sneak out again, I couldn’t help but look for the white toy dog.

  It was there on the shelf, just like last time.

  I felt mesmerised, frozen to the ground.

  Ryan moaned suddenly and turned in his bed, snapping me out of my mindless gaze.

  I was back out the window in a flash.

  I scrawled what I wanted to say to Mum on the back of the bus pass, and pushed it into the letterbox.

  Although I’d been checking every couple of days, so far I’d received no answer to my email to Dr Brinsley. I was also impatiently waiting on word from Boges about the altered air rifle. I was anxious to move forward with my plan to get information.

  I hadn’t heard anything from Sharkey in a while either. I needed to give him a call.

  mission accomplished. items r ready for collection. w says her place is cool for an hour. ‘strictly 4-5pm’. boges.

  ‘Three hamburgers with the works,’ Boges announced, as he sauntered into Winter’s flat. He passed one to each of us, before letting his duffel bag fall from his shoulder.

  ‘Thanks Boges,’ Winter said. ‘Next time it’s my shout.’

  ‘So let’s see it!’ I said, reaching to unzip his bag myself.

  ‘Hold on, hold on,’ said Boges, brushing my hands away. He dug into the bag and lifted out the air rifle, long and sleek, and placed it on the table. It looked straighter and more polished than when I’d last seen it. Next to it he placed a small box.

  ‘You’re looking particularly pleased with yourself,’ said Winter, pausing in her chewing. ‘What’s in the box?’

  ‘Custom-designed spyware.’ He proudly pushed the box in my direction. ‘Take a look.’

  ‘Let me see,’ said Winter, pushing in beside me.

  I opened it and stared at the contents.

  ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘This is incredible!’

  Gently, I lifted it out. Boges had turned the tiny metallic bug into an insect—a small, dark moth, complete with delta-shaped wings, a tiny head and feelers.

  ‘I used my uncle’s old fly-fishing materials to make it,’ he explained. ‘See this tiny button here?’ he said, turning the bug upside down to show me. ‘You push it with something small, like the tip of a pencil, to activate it. From that moment on, we’ll have roughly twelve hours to listen in to Oriana’s conversations—that’s if you shoot it into position properly.’

  ‘No pressure,’ I said, laughing nervously. ‘This is unreal, Boges. I mean, it’s so unreal that it looks so real!’

  Winter gently took it from my fingers and turned it around looking at it carefully. ‘It’s beautiful, and it’s perfect that it’s a moth. They only have a short life, too, you know. You’re amazing,’ she said to Boges.

  I think Winter’s words had made my friend blush.

  ‘I changed my mind about the dart and used this little suction cup instead,’ said Boges, showing us a small, rubbery hemisphere at the front of the ‘moth’. I’ve experimented and found that it will hold on to almost any flat surface.’ He picked up the air rifle and squinted down the barrel. ‘I did some practice shooting using the moth modification—mothification, I’ve been calling it—on ordinary air rifle pellets. I’ve tried to adjust it, but it’s still firing to the right a little. You’ll need to correct that when you’re aiming. But other than that, it’s pretty good over short distances.’

  ‘How short?’

  ‘Ten metres or so.’

  ‘I think that should be OK,’ I said slowly, trying to estimate the distance between the window, the tree, and the far wall of Oriana’s home office.

  ‘We’ll need to find an observation post,’ said Boges, ‘where I can set up the receiver. It’ll have to be somewhere fairly close to our target.’

  ‘Can you hold onto it until we’re ready to go?’

  ‘Of course. And you only have one shot at it, remember?’

  ‘How could I forget?’ I said, cringing. Nailing my one shot was vital.

  I was striding across the road near the disused railway yards with a warm parcel of fish and chips for Repro when I heard the whoomp, whoomp, whoomp of a helicopter in the sky. I squinted up and my heart sank. It was the police.

  Had they seen me?

  From not too far away I heard a siren begin to wail.

  I bolted over to the three old rusty filing cabinets.

  ‘Repro, it’s me,’ I hissed, rapping on the middle door. ‘Quick! Let me in!’

  Behind me the sirens screamed louder; the helicopter hovered closer.

  Nothing happened.

  I tried again. ‘Come on, Repro, don’t hold out on me! I think they’re on to me!’

  I waited for a response but he didn’t answer. I couldn’t hear any grumbling or muttering.

  I knocked harder again. ‘Repro, let me in! Please!’

  Still nothing. I was beginning to wonder if he was even in there when I heard something that sounded like the scrape of a chair on the floor. The sound of the siren was now ear piercing.

  ‘I can hear you,’ I shouted, becoming uneasier by the minute. ‘I know you’re in there!’

  A police car, lights flashing, sped past and continued on its way. I sagged with relief. I looked up to check on the helicopter—it was now a distant glint over the darkening city. This time, it wasn’t me they were after.

  From behind the filing cabinet wall I heard the chair scraping again. The cops had moved on, but something else was seriously wrong. Every instinct was warning me now. I needed to know my friend was OK.

  ‘Repro, what’s going on? Why won’t you let me in?’

  The sound of something being shifted from behind the wall came as a relief. I pressed against the back of the filing cabinet, and finally it gave way, letting me inside the lair.

  In a split second, I saw and understood the situation. I tried to back out, but it was too late! I’d walked into a trap!

  Straight ahead of me, Repro was struggling, gagged and tied to his bedhead.

  Three-O and another guy jumped out in front of me, grabbed me and threw me to the ground. I tried to fight them off, but
Three-O easily wrenched my arm up behind my back, and the two of them hauled me over to a chair near the table.

  Repro wailed. I threw him a sideways glance and saw that he’d just managed to spit the gag out of his mouth.

  ‘They forced their way in behind me, Cal,’ he said, panting. ‘I was coming back with supplies, and they came from nowhere. Nowhere! They said they’d tell the authorities about my home here! About my collection! They overpowered me—it was two against one. I’m sorry!’

  He looked so miserable, struggling in his green suit with the too-short sleeves, and his thin face drooping over his grubby yellow tie. He was sorry? I was the one who had brought danger into his life.

  ‘Shut up, you old scarecrow,’ hissed Three-O’s mate. It was Freddy, the guy I’d first encountered in the stormwater drain and then the carpark—the guy who looked like a pirate.

  ‘What do you want?’ I shouted at Three-O as he and Freddy started roping me to the chair.

  ‘What do I want?’ Three-O sneered. He got right in my face. ‘I want to do society a favour by aiding the police in the arrest of Callum Ormond.’

  Freddy cackled like a hyena.

  ‘There is also the case of this—’ Three-O paused and rubbed his fingers together, indicating money. ‘I want the reward money and this time I’m gonna get it! There’ll be no escaping! The next people you’ll see will be the cops. It’s the end of the line for you, buddy,’ he said, giving a savage tug to the strong nylon rope that he was tying onto my wrists and ankles.

  He stuck his head into my face again. ‘You’ll regret crossing me.’

  I tried to struggle but was completely immobilised.

  ‘Get a move on, Freddy,’ Three-O ordered his companion. ‘Let’s really nail this place up!’ Three-O had a hammer and a bag of nails, and Freddy had pieces of timber that he’d ripped up from Repro’s tabletop.