December

by Gabrielle Lord

  ‘Good,’ said Sharkey. ‘Our departure date’s going to come around fast. In the meantime, get to know the details on your passports and start packing. I’ll hold onto the tickets for now and I’ll call you to organise another meeting soon.’

  ‘Nelson,’ said Boges, ‘is it OK if I give my mum your number to call–she’s a bit concerned about this “study trip” occurring over Christmas. Can you just tell her it’s legit?’

  Sharkey looked at Boges sternly and pursed his lips. ‘I don’t like lying, but I’ll do it.’

  19 days to go…

  Ryan had been on my mind for days, and this morning I was drawn to his place like a magnet, as though I had to see him and start making up for lost time. I think it was all the photos of Dad and Rafe I’d been mulling over that made me want to speak to my twin.

  Even though I hardly knew him, he was the only family member I felt safe seeking out, and he deserved to know everything I now knew about our history.

  I had no simple way of getting in touch with him, so I had no choice but to linger outside his apartment building, hoping he’d show up sooner or later. I leaned against the fence, reading a copy of yesterday’s newspaper that I’d found in a nearby recycling bin.

  It was a hot December morning, and if it hadn’t been for the questions squirming around in my mind concerning my mum, I would have felt great about getting closer and closer to our goal in Ireland.

  ‘Good morning, Ryan,’ said an old lady, passing by the letterboxes.

  I looked up, startled, realising she’d mistaken me for my brother.

  ‘Hi,’ I answered, flustered, hoping she’d be happy with that and move on.

  ‘How’s your dear mother?’ she continued.

  ‘She’s good, thanks,’ I replied, as plainly as I could, silently begging her to leave me alone.

  ‘Be a pet and tell her I said hello,’ she added, before finally shuffling along to the building next door.

  I breathed a huge sigh of relief, just as a familiar figure appeared at the door to the building.

  ‘Ryan!’ I called out.

  I hurried across to him and his face lit up when he saw me.

  ‘Hey!’ he said. ‘I wanted to get in touch with you but didn’t know how. Quick, come upstairs.’

  ‘I don’t want to freak your mum out again,’ I said, cautiously, thinking about how last time I’d been here, I’d left him behind with his mum–the woman who’d adopted him–lying unconscious on the floor.

  ‘She’s not here–already left for work. The place is empty.’

  ‘So you don’t have to be somewhere?’

  ‘Nowhere that can’t wait.’

  Ryan hunched opposite me, listening intently over the coffee table in his living room. I tried to tell him everything I possibly could about us, and tried to answer all of his questions about his mum, and whether she knew who he really was.

  ‘We were abducted?’ Ryan asked, his eyes searching my face.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And my mum–I mean, my adoptive mum–had no idea of who I really was? That I was the missing baby, Samuel?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  After I’d passed on everything I knew, Ryan was silent for a long time. I wondered what was going through his mind–was he angry? Upset? He stood up and went to the window, looking out across the rooftop where I’d once chased him.

  Finally, he turned to me and said, ‘This explains something I’ve thought about for as long as I can remember–that something wasn’t quite right with me, not right with my family. I’ve never really fit in. I don’t look like my mum, and we’re both really different people. I’ve always had this nagging feeling that something …’

  ‘Something was missing?’ I finished for him.

  He nodded. ‘I’ve always had this dream, too,’ he began, ‘which is finally starting to make sense. I’m in this cold, dark place, crying, then all of a sudden I’m somewhere else, but wanting to go back … It must have been about you,’ he said. ‘You were left behind in that building.’

  Goosebumps crawled across the skin on my forearms. The incident had haunted his dreams, too.

  ‘But why did Murray Durham want to do away with us?’ asked Ryan. ‘I don’t get it.’

  I shook my head. ‘He was just carrying out orders.’

  ‘From who?’

  ‘I don’t know. Durham didn’t know either.’

  ‘Cal, I want to ask a favour.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I really want to speak to your mum. I mean our mum.’ He pulled out his mobile. ‘I just want to talk to her. Tell her I’m OK. Will you call her for me?’

  I thought about it for a second. There were so many reasons why I should have said no. Including my suspicions about her involvement in the DMO. But this was her missing child. Maybe she’d listen to him.

  ‘Here, use my phone,’ said Ryan, handing his mobile to me. He looked so hopeful, nervous, brave.

  ‘That’s OK,’ I said, turning down his phone. ‘I’ll use mine.’ I stopped thinking about it, pulled out my phone and just dialled her number.

  ‘It’s ringing,’ I said, already starting to have second thoughts. Could I make things worse and put Ryan in danger? But he wasn’t the heir–I was the first-born son. I’d beaten him into the world. I hoped that meant he was safe.

  Before I could decide, she answered.

  ‘Hello?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Mum,’ I said. ‘It’s me. Don’t hang up. Just hear me out. I have Ryan Spencer with me. My twin brother. Samuel, Mum.’

  I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t.

  ‘He’s here and he’d really like to talk to you,’ I added.

  ‘Cal, please leave Samuel’s memory alone. He’s dead and gone–’ her voice choked on a sob. ‘Why are you torturing me like this?’

  ‘But Mum, he’s just here! I promise I’m not lying! Please, at least talk to him?’

  ‘I can’t, Cal. I just can’t. I have to go.’

  The line went dead. I felt a mixture of pain and fury spin through me. She didn’t want to listen.

  I looked over at Ryan. ‘No good, huh?’ he asked.

  I shook my head.

  He looked pretty disappointed, but quickly shrugged it off. ‘She’ll come around sooner or later,’ he said with conviction. ‘Especially when we meet, face-to-face.’

  I couldn’t imagine that happening, with Mum acting the way she was, but I kept my mouth shut.

  ‘I’d better go,’ I said. ‘I have lots to do before I–’ I hesitated, unsure about whether I should mention my Ireland plans.

  ‘Before you what?’ he asked, curiously. ‘You can trust me, you know. I am your brother, after all. We have at least fifteen years’ worth of helping each other out of trouble to catch up on. You can count on me.’

  In this new world of not being able to trust anyone, even those closest to me, I was surprised I believed him.

  ‘I’m flying out,’ I explained. ‘Going to Ireland–leaving in the afternoon of the twenty-third.’

  ‘How come? Won’t that be dangerous? Aren’t you worried you’ll be caught, going to an airport? Isn’t that a bit–’

  ‘Stupid?’ I interrupted. ‘Possibly, but I just have to risk it. If I can make it to Ireland, there’s a chance I can clear my name. I have to take that chance. I have a fake passport and I’m hoping that’s enough. I have no alternative and time’s running out.’

  ‘No alternative, eh?’ he said, giving me a long, hard look. ‘I guess I should say good luck.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  We exchanged phone numbers, said goodbye and I headed back to the treehouse.

  14 days to go …

  Our plane to Ireland was leaving in less than a week, so Boges, Winter and I were poring over everything we had so far on the DMO, in preparation.

  I spread everything out on the floor as best I could, while Winter wrote up a quick list.

  ‘The first thing we need to
do when we get there,’ announced Winter as she handed me her list, ‘is set up a meeting with the Keeper of Rare Books at Trinity College in Dublin. We play it low-key–we don’t want to reveal everything we know–we just want to find out what he can offer us. If he can help us find the missing two lines from the Riddle, we’ll be way ahead of the game.’

  Boges and I must have looked unconvinced.

  ‘I don’t care what contacts and resources Rathbone or even Sligo have,’ Winter scoffed. ‘That doesn’t mean they’ll beat us.’ She flicked her hair back from her face before speaking again. ‘Then, depending on how our meeting with the Keeper goes, I think we should head to the place your dad was staying in–the Clonmel Way Guest House in Carrick-on-Suir. Boges, I mean, Josh, did you bring the map of Ireland you printed out?’

  ‘Sure did, Grace,’ he said, unfolding a huge map and spreading it out over the top of the papers on the floor. The three of us peered over it, examining it closely.

  ‘Carrick-on-Suir is some way from Dublin,’ said Winter, ‘but not so far by bus or train.’

  ‘As soon as we reach the guesthouse we should start searching the area. Maybe a local will recognise this.’ I pulled out a photo of the castle ruins.

  ‘And remember,’ said Boges, ‘we’ll be travelling in an Irish winter. It could be snowing so pack plenty of warm gear.’ With that he pulled out a blue and white striped beanie and tugged it on his head. It entirely covered his curly hair, which was slowly growing back after Winter had shaved it.

  I looked up from the transparency. ‘There’s so much we still don’t know. That black dot could be pointing out nothing but a good place to grab lunch.’

  ‘That would be good, too, but not exactly what we were hoping for.’ Boges laughed and started packing up his gear. ‘I’m off to meet Nelson now, just to go over the final details. Wow, you guys,’ he said, a broad smile stretching across his face, ‘can you believe this is all really happening? We’re actually going to Ireland!’

  ‘It is pretty awesome,’ agreed Winter, a smile growing across her lips, too. ‘I’m excited. It’s going to be one huge adventure, no matter what happens.’

  ‘You’re right, guys,’ I said, starting to feel the enthusiasm building. ‘I guess I’ll see you both next week–ready and raring to go!’

  As soon as I was alone again, my nerves resurfaced. Every time thoughts of my mum crept into my mind, I tried to push them away and focus on going to Ireland. Whenever thoughts of being captured at the airport before even setting foot on the plane snuck in, I’d wipe them out by imagining the exhilaration I knew I would feel as soon as I was finally on my way.

  9 days to go…

  Outside the treehouse window, the sun was shining. The birds in a tree nearby were squawking so loudly that I could hardly hear Winter’s voice on the phone.

  ‘Speak up,’ I told her.

  ‘I’m all ready,’ she said, louder, her voice trembling with excitement. ‘Nelson’s picking up Josh first, then me, then we’re coming over to collect you. He’ll be here at the motel any minute … I hate to say it, but I’m feeling pretty nervous. What if something goes wrong?’

  ‘We can’t let it,’ I said, even though I was feeling just as freaked out by what we were about to do.

  As I waited, I checked and re-checked my backpack, anxiously making sure I had everything I needed. We were supposed to be at the airport by one o’clock, for our flight at three. I combed my hands through my hair, styling it forward so that it hung across my face, almost covering my eyes.

  The contacts! I’d almost forgotten about the dark contacts Winter had given me. I quickly dug them out of my bag and blinked madly as I put them in.

  When I heard Sharkey’s car pulling up in the lane behind the back fence, I checked the coast was clear, then clambered down the treehouse rope, and snuck out of the Lovetts’ yard for the last time.

  ‘Good morning, sir,’ I joked, as I climbed into the car.

  Sharkey laughed awkwardly, making me feel even more nervous than I already was. I looked around the car at my friends—everyone looked really uneasy.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. ‘I mean, apart from the obvious—the fact that you’re a phoney school group helping the notorious Psycho Kid escape the country.’

  ‘Sharkey just told us some bad news,’ replied Boges.

  ‘There’s a huge security convention happening over the next four days,’ explained Sharkey, as we headed for the airport. ‘Counter-terrorism squads from all over the world have descended on the city. They’ll be practising manoeuvres—raiding buildings, securing roads and bridges, locking down the airport, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Locking down the airport?’ I asked, recalling what Eric Blair had told me about Strike Force Predator.

  ‘The airports were already on high alert, but now security has tripled,’ Sharkey continued. ‘Random stop-and-search exercises of cars and public transport will be carried out, I heard.’

  Boges shook his head. ‘It gets worse. The police commissioner has said that instead of this exercise being a sterile operation, they’re giving the program real focus by having your capture as part of the agenda. Apparently the authorities are even going to be doing a bit of random fingerprinting at Departures.’

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Nothing we can do,’ replied Sharkey. ‘We’ve just gotta do everything we planned and hope we slip through somehow.’

  I exhaled loudly and stared through the window at the fast-moving world outside.

  ‘Come on,’ Winter comforted me, patting my knee like my mum used to. ‘Somehow we’ll get through. I can feel it.’

  I turned to her and forced a smile. She was wearing an emerald-green beret and her dark hair tumbled down over her shoulders. I hoped her feeling was right.

  ‘Do you all have your stories straight?’ Sharkey asked.

  ‘Absolutely,’ I replied, happy to have something to distract me from the somersaults in my stomach. ‘I’m Matt Marlow, travelling to Ireland with my friends Joshua Stern and Grace Lee, and our history teacher Mr Nelson Sharkey.’

  Sharkey nodded, but I could see that even he was nervous. He was used to being the law-abiding good guy, and now he was aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive.

  The number of police cars on the street, and helicopters in the sky, grew thicker the closer we came to the airport. Luckily the lane leading to Departures, that the police had taken over for random checking, was full as we cruised past.

  Sharkey parked and we all began the nail-biting trek inside. I stopped myself from looking around, but couldn’t control the sweat that had broken out on my forehead. I knew the people on passport control were trained to look for suspicious characters, and if I didn’t control my anxious, darting glances, and do something about the sweating, I’d be discovered.

  With Christmas so near, the whole airport was buzzing. I guessed most travellers were going on holidays, maybe joining their families overseas, like Sharkey. They were fussing over luggage labels, chasing kids around, wheeling suitcases that were probably weighed down with presents. I felt like our sombre group was sticking out like a sore thumb.

  For me this was the first part of the final obstacle in this year-long quest. I could almost taste victory. I shifted the weight of my backpack. Inside I had warm clothes Boges had lent me for the Irish winter, and beneath them was a smaller zip-lock bag containing the Riddle, the Jewel and our notes. I wasn’t checking my backpack in—nothing was going to separate me from everything I had inside.

  ‘Just relax, Matt,’ said Winter, who had obviously noticed the state I was in.

  ‘I’m trying, Grace,’ I said through gritted teeth.

  ‘OK,’ Nelson interrupted. ‘We have our stories straight, so let’s check in. Any questions, just refer to me.’

  I looked up and noticed that Sharkey had beads of sweat on his brow. He seemed really nervous for me; his eyes were scanning the international check-in area.

  We just had to m
ake it onto the plane.

  The four of us had made it through check-in—our fake passports had held up so far—and we were following Sharkey, walking over to the queue for passport control. None of us had said anything to each other since checking in—we were all too tense.

  Suddenly Sharkey slowed up, forcing us to stop abruptly behind him. He casually turned around to us, but the look on his face was more than unsettling.

  I quickly peered past him and a feeling of horror took over as I realised we were walking towards the security convention’s fingerprinting station.

  ‘What do we do?’ Winter whispered.

  Sharkey looked stumped for a second.

  ‘Just walk on by as confidently as you can,’ he eventually instructed, while pretending to look for something in his wallet. ‘There’s no turning back for us now. We’re just a school group, remember? Hopefully they won’t pick us out and call us over. If they do call us over, then I guess we’d all better start praying for a miracle.’

  My heart was beating out of my chest as Sharkey turned around and continued walking. My two friends and I had no choice but to follow.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ a voice called out from the security station. ‘Would you and your group please step over here for a random fingerprint test?’

  Those words winded me like a punch in the gut. The kind of punch that sends you crashing to the ground. The kind of punch that you don’t recover from.

  I panicked, looking at Boges and Winter frantically. They looked as petrified as me.

  Sharkey turned to us once more and I felt sick. ‘Come along, kids,’ he said to us, but I could see in his saddened eyes that he knew our quest was over. We were about to have our fingerprints taken, and that meant the police had won. They were about to capture their target.

  We’d failed. Solving the DMO just wasn’t meant to happen.