‘I can’t believe this,’ Isabel whispered in the cafe.
‘Neither can I,’ said Mila, shivering at her side.
On Isabel’s phone screen, Zander’s eyes raced back and forth behind his SmartGlasses as he double-checked what JJ had said about the countdown and coordinates. ‘You’re—you’re right,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘This is …’
‘Insane,’ JJ said.
Zander nodded.
No-one spoke for what seemed like the longest time.
Mila held up her phone.
‘It resets at zero,’ she said in a quaking voice. ‘What will happen at the next zero? We must find this out, yes? Yes?’
Snapping out of their shock, the others nodded.
‘We have to decode the other symbols,’ Zander said. ‘The answer has to be there—or in the message, “Events for you as mind peace”.’
Isabel shook her head. ‘There’s certainly no peace of mind in this event!’
‘At least with the coordinates, we know the order the symbols go in,’ JJ said, swiping at his phone. ‘I’m texting them to everyone in order now.’
Each of them studied the row of symbols intently.
‘So the alpha’s at the beginning,’ JJ said, ‘then we’ve got that weird spiral thing.’
‘Could it be a question mark?’ Mila offered.
‘Maybe,’ Zander said. ‘Isabel, if you were right about yours being an eye, then where it is placed has it watching Zeus’s lightning bolt hitting Khufu’s pyramid.’
‘Meaning?’ she asked.
Zander shrugged. ‘Maybe whoever sent it wants us to be eyewitnesses?’
Mila shivered at the thought. ‘But how does the Gemini sign fit in? I don’t—’
A gasp went up from Magdalena’s customers, echoed by JJ and Zander as their screens relayed the breaking news. Isabel and Mila fell silent as the cafe’s TV showed the super-cargo carrier ablaze and sinking in Egypt’s Suez Canal.
For the next few seconds no-one spoke as they absorbed the scale of the new calamity.
Mila’s eyes widened. ‘Gemini,’ she murmured.
‘What?’ Isabel asked distractedly.
‘Castor and Pollux,’ Mila reminded them. ‘The twins. They are born at the same time,’ she said. ‘Like these two attacks, yes?’
Zander jumped to his feet and paced around his bedroom furiously. His eyes darted as they fired rapid commands to his SmartGlasses.
‘Guys,’ JJ said, ‘this is too freaky—we need to tell someone. We—’
‘Listen,’ Zander said, cutting in. ‘I searched “Khufu” and “Suez”. Listen to this: “The fourth dynasty King established Egypt’s first commercial harbour on the Gulf of Suez four and a half thousand years ago.” ‘
Mila frowned. ‘It fits—Khufu, bolt, two attacks.’
‘Yup,’ JJ gulped. ‘All the more reason to alert the authorities!’
‘But who?’ Isabel asked.
JJ shook his head. ‘The CIA, Mossad, MI5—somebody!’
Isabel pulled at her hair. ‘But how do we know who to trust if we don’t know who’s involved?’
Zander was nodding. ‘Who’s to say they would even believe us? They might think we sent the symbols.’
‘We can show them we got them before the attacks on Egypt,’ JJ said.
‘Time stamps can be faked,’ Zander said with a shrug. ‘Also …’
‘Also?’ JJ prompted.
‘Also, we cannot forget,’ Zander continued, ‘that just a few hours ago we thought Felix sent us the First Sign.’
Mila’s green eyes glittered. ‘You are not saying he does this?’
‘I am not saying that,’ Zander replied. ‘But the authorities might think that—after all, you said yourself that he is the common link between us all.’
Mila bit her lip.
‘If anyone thought he was involved … we’d lose everything, our prizes, our SpaceSkimmer trips,’ JJ said.
Zander nodded. ‘I think we should try to work out the remaining symbols and speak to Andy and Dylan, and especially Yasmin, before we decide who to tell. We have to be sure … really, really sure. I will keep trying Yasmin and call back as soon as I know anything more, all right?’
After the girls had said anxious farewells to JJ and Zander, Pablo arrived with their breakfast.
‘What is this?’ Mila asked, glad to have something else to talk about for a moment.
‘Calentado—beans, rice, sausage and bread,’ Isabel said, looking at the big plate in front of her. ‘Your bowl is changua—egg soup. Why don’t we share?’
The girls ate half-heartedly as the wall screens showed updates from Egypt. The most worrying footage was of Giza in turmoil as police and looters clashed.
‘Maybe Yasmin was already at the airport, yes?’ Mila speculated hopefully, setting aside the plate as her appetite deserted her completely.
‘I can’t stand this,’ Isabel said, tying her pink hair back in a ponytail. ‘I’m calling Miss Chen.’
Mila stiffened a little. ‘But we agreed—’
‘Don’t worry,’ Isabel said tersely. ‘I’m not going to say anything about the symbols. But surely Felix Scott’s right-hand woman can find out what’s going on with Yasmin!’
Mila nodded.
A moment later, Isabel had Miss Chen on her phone, looking as cool and calm as ever behind her SmartGlasses.
‘Girls,’ she said, lips pursed. ‘Is everything all right in Bogotá?’
‘Better than it is in Cairo,’ Isabel replied.
‘You have spoken to Yasmin?’ Mila asked hopefully.
‘Not yet,’ Miss Chen said. ‘The Egyptian phone system is down. But rest assured we are keeping tabs on the situation.’
‘What is this “keeping tabs”?’ Mila asked.
Miss Chen paused as if thinking of how to explain the phrase. ‘It means we are keeping an eye on developments.’
A chill went through Mila.
‘Can we speak to Felix?’ Isabel asked.
‘He cannot be disturbed right now,’ Miss Chen replied. ‘But I have dispatched some of our security people in Cairo to make sure Yasmin is OK.’
Isabel sighed with relief. ‘You’ve got people there?’
Miss Chen offered her thin version of a smile. ‘Infinity Corporation has three million employees. We have people everywhere.’ Her eyes flicked as she checked other displays on her SmartGlasses. ‘Girls, I have to go. I will be in contact when I know more about Yasmin.’
With that, Felix’s assistant disconnected the call. The girls looked at each other over their half-eaten breakfasts.
‘Doesn’t sound like she knows much more than we do,’ Isabel said. ‘But it’s good they’re trying to ensure Yasmin’s safety.’
‘“Keeping an eye on developments”?’ Mila said. ‘Eye—like the symbol—a little freaky, yes?’
Isabel let out a nervous laugh. ‘Now you’re being paranoid.’
‘I hope so,’ Mila said.
A group of Isabel’s art friends swept into the cafe and joined the girls at their table. After being introduced, Mila found herself on the edge of a heated debate about what had happened in Egypt.
‘“Offline”,’ argued one boy. ‘That’s what the pilot said—it sounds like an accident.’
‘But the missile wasn’t offline, was it?’ countered a girl. ‘It looked like it was right on target!’
The boy shrugged and sipped his coffee. ‘Maybe that was just … bad luck?’
‘What?’ the girl scoffed. ‘Just like that big ship catching fire right at the same time. Puh-lease!’
‘Maybe the plane and boat had the same software systems?’ the boy came back.
‘Rubbish!’ the girl replied. ‘The question is, who did this and why? What do you think, Isabel?’
Mila tensed as she glanced at her friend. She could see Isabel struggling to keep their secret. What would these Colombian kids think if they showed them the symbols? Would they say Isabel and Mila were
crazy to think they meant anything? Or would they see them as evidence of an evil conspiracy?
‘I think,’ Isabel said, setting her phone face-down on the table as if to resist the temptation to show what it held, ‘that we should wait to find out more before jumping to conclusions.’
That triggered a new debate—about how much the media would ever tell people about what was really going on.
‘You’re quiet,’ said an older boy with a shaved head and an arm sleeve of bright tattoos, as he sat by Mila. ‘Don’t have an opinion?’
She felt her cheeks go pink.
‘What are you drawing there?’ he asked, leaning closer.
Mila hadn’t even been aware that she was doodling on the paper tablecloth. Now she realised she had drawn her symbol.
‘Is that your tag?’ he queried.
‘Tag?’
When the guy chuckled, Mila saw he had a gold front tooth. Shaved head, arm tattoos, bling dentistry: talk about trying hard for an arty image!
‘A tag is your graffiti signature,’ he said pleasantly, looking around the cafe. ‘Half these kids are graffiti artists. My tag is Bender.’ He grabbed a crayon and did an admittedly clever cartoon version of himself and scrawled ‘BNDR’ underneath.
‘Very good,’ Mila said. This guy seemed nice despite his too-cool-for-school vibe.
‘Gracias.’ His eyes went back to her symbol. ‘So what is that?’
‘I, er, don’t know,’ Mila said. ‘Sorry.’
‘You know what it looks like to me?’
Mila peered at him.
‘A paragraph mark,’ he said. ‘You know, like when you turn on the formatting symbols on a computer document.’
Mila looked from Bender to the tablecloth—and saw exactly what he meant!
‘Thank you!’ she blurted, forgetting her shyness.
Bender gave her a puzzled smile.
‘Excuse me, please,’ Mila said, glancing at her phone. ‘I need to check something.’
The guy gestured for her to go ahead and watched curiously as she whipped out her phone.
Mila angled herself away from Bender and did an internet search on ‘paragraph mark symbol’. A moment later, her screen held dozens of variations on the image. There were sleek new ones from modern computer programs and elaborate older versions from medieval manuscripts.
Heart thumping, mouth dry, Mila grabbed Isabel’s arm.
‘Ow, what?’ her friend snapped.
‘Come with me,’ Mila said, glancing back at Bender, who gave her a glinting gold smile.
They found an empty table in the corner.
‘Look,’ Mila said, handing over her phone. ‘My symbol is a paragraph mark.’
Isabel’s eyes danced with excitement. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe it. They’re all over electronic documents but you never pay them any attention. Quick, what does it mean?’
The girls huddled over the phone as Mila did another search and found an entry on a blog called WerdNerdz.
Pilcrow
The paragraph mark is properly known as a ‘pilcrow’ and dates back to the 1400s. It was originally used in medieval manuscripts to tell the reader that a new idea was being introduced into the text. Such changes in subject were later indicated by the paragraph break. These days pilcrows mainly exist as ghosts in word-processing programs. They remain hidden unless you click the show button, then they’ll appear whenever your press the return key.
The pilcrow is also known as an alinea, which is Latin for ‘off the line’.
‘“Off the line”,’ Mila said. ‘Doesn’t that sound like what the Egyptian pilot said? “Offline”.’
Isabel gulped and nodded. She hunched over the paper on the table and quickly sketched the symbols, scribbling words underneath each.
‘OK,’ Isabel said. ‘I’m officially scared now.’
Mila sat on her hands to keep them from shaking. ‘So what does the spiral mean?’ she whispered.
Yasmin wondered if she should tell her parents about the symbols and website that seemed to have something to do with the attacks. But how on earth could she possibly explain it without sounding like she was making it up—or crazy?
‘A sunken ship this size is difficult to move,’ a reporter was saying now as the Futura burned low in the Suez Canal behind her. ‘It might be weeks or months before this vital waterway is open again. Speculation is already mounting that this disaster is linked to the shocking event at the Great Pyramid.’
‘Of course they are linked!’ Mr Adib said angrily. ‘Any fool can see that!’
The TV went off and the lights went out. Everyone gasped as the lounge room fell into darkness. They were used to blackouts in Cairo but the timing of this one only added to the feeling that the world was going insane. To make matters worse, Yasmin’s phone showed that Egypt’s network was down. She chided herself for not calling the DARE winners back when she had the chance. They might have been able to tell her something more. Surely they had also realised the symbols of the First Sign were connected to what had just happened.
‘I’ll get my little TV,’ Radha was saying.
The family sat, looking at each other fearfully, listening to the horns, sirens and shouting from out in the street.
Radha returned with her wind-up television. She gave it a few cranks and picked up a fuzzy black-and-white picture.
‘… while the pyramid attack will be devastating for tourism,’ a financial expert was saying gloomily, ‘the Suez Canal incident will have much worse consequences. It’s the waterway that oil tankers and cargo ships use to go from Europe to Asia without having to go around Africa. If it’s closed for a long time, Egypt’s economy could be ruined. That, in turn, could cause a global economic collapse.’
‘Listen!’ Radha said, turning the TV volume down.
Someone was rattling the shop’s shutter, trying to get in!
Yasmin saw grim determination in her father’s eyes as he took Radha’s silver pistol from his pocket.
‘Call your brothers back again!’ he said to his wife.
Mrs Adib stabbed at her phone. ‘It’s useless—the network is still down! Even if I could get through, they’re on the other side of town!’
‘The children,’ Radha urged, ‘we must get them away!’
Mr Adib looked gravely at Mahmoud. ‘I will protect your mother and grandmother and the shop,’ he said, ‘but you must get your sister to the airport. Put her on Felix’s plane, and tell them you want to chaperone her. Insist if you must! Go, now! Take the jeep and—’
Mahmoud shook his head and jabbed a finger at the TV. ‘I can’t, Dad—look!’
The screen’s aerial view of Giza and Cairo showed all major roads jammed with taxis, tour buses, police and tanks.
Angry voices erupted outside the shop. Then came shots and screams.
‘Mahmoud, your bike!’ Mrs Adib said. ‘Go by the back streets. You might get through. Go!’
‘Do as your mother says,’ Mr Adib commanded. ‘I will hold them in the shop.’
Yasmin’s eyes burned with tears. She didn’t want to leave her family like this but she knew she was powerless to help.
Mr Adib gave her and Mahmoud quick hugs. ‘Son, daughter—go! Call us when you can.’
With that, he strode, chest out, from the lounge room and into the shop. ‘Get away from here!’ he shouted. ‘I’m armed.’
‘Come on!’ Mrs Adib whispered. ‘You have to go!’
Yasmin slung her backpack over her shoulder and followed her mother out to the small backyard.
Mahmoud eased his powerful bike to the rear gate.
‘Be careful!’ Mrs Adib sobbed, throwing her arms around her son and daughter, while Radha looked on snuffling.
‘Don’t worry, Mother,’ Mahmoud said. ‘I’ve got this. Here, sister.’
Yasmin shook her head as he offered her his new helmet and leather jacket.
‘I insist,’ he said.
‘No time to argue, girl!
’ Radha said. ‘Put them on!’
Yasmin pulled them on and climbed onto the motorbike behind Mahmoud. Hot tears pricked her eyes but she forced herself to be brave as her mother opened the gate that led to the back alley.
‘OK, sis,’ Mahmoud said, twisting the throttle so the engine revved powerfully. ‘Ready?’
Yasmin imagined the map in her head. From here, they had to go back around the corner, navigate dozens of Giza’s tight alleys, cross one of the many bridges over the Nile River, get through central Cairo and then go out past Heliopolis to the airport. It felt like mission impossible.
‘Here we go,’ Mahmoud said.
With a final nod to their mother and grandmother, he shot the bike out into the bumpy lane and weaved between panicking locals using it as an escape route. Yasmin was shocked at what she saw when her brother skidded to a stop at the corner a few doors down from their shop. Their entire street was in chaos. It was so much worse at ground level than it had looked on TV. Stores that weren’t shuttered had smashed windows. Groups of masked men ran with whatever they could carry. Cars and buses were rammed up close to each other, horns honking, drivers yelling, terrified passengers whimpering behind windows.
Yasmin had no idea how they would ever get through this dangerous mess alive.
A police chopper swooped overhead, speakers blaring, ordering residents to return to their homes.
‘Brother,’ she shouted, ‘maybe we should do what they say—go back to our house and—’
The words died in Yasmin’s throat. Through the bitter smoke curling down the street, she spotted … Jackal!
The detective and his minions were outside their store. There were two crumpled bodies at their feet. That’s what the shots and screams had been just a minute ago. Jackal and his gang had murdered those people! Now he was yelling at his thugs to use a fallen telegraph pole as a battering ram on the shutter.
‘Little pig, let me come in!’ he shouted at the door.
Yasmin couldn’t believe it! In all this madness, Jackal still wanted to kidnap her. He had no idea she wasn’t inside.
‘Mahmoud!’ she said desperately.
Her brother let out a cry as Jackal’s gang—
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