July (14 page)

‘What do you think that black spot between them means?’ I asked Boges.

‘Another place? Unnamed?’

‘I wonder if Piers went back to the Black Abbey the year after, like he said he would. Maybe he found the last two lines of the Riddle. Maybe he had them!’

‘No, dude,’ replied Boges, shaking his head, ‘Piers Ormond never went back to the Black Abbey. Because before he could, the First World War broke out in 1914.’

Trust Boges to know that. ‘And what was the rumour he was investigating?’ I asked. ‘A rumour that was regarded as fact? Do you think it was something to do with the Ormond Singularity?’

Boges shrugged. ‘I’m more interested in the fact that he believed there was a version of the complete Ormond Riddle in a book in the library at the Black Abbey. Or at least the last two lines.’

‘Let’s just jump on a bus and check out the Black Abbey library ourselves,’ I joked.

Boges ran his hands through his hair. ‘It’s frustrating these places are so far away, but it’s good to know that the Ormond Angel comes to the aid of the heir,’ he said.

‘I haven’t noticed any angelic aid lately.’

‘You’re alive, aren’t you?’ Boges tapped his fingers impatiently over his laptop keyboard. ‘Let’s keep going. Turn the paper.’

‘Awesome! Piers Ormond was on track all right!’ said Boges. ‘He knew way back then in 1913 about the Ormond Singularity. He was doing what we’re doing! Trying to gather information and work it out.’

‘And what Dad was doing nearly a century later,’ I added. ‘He’d also stumbled upon some incredible information that he didn’t want to put down in writing. He was going to tell me all about it as soon as he got home. But by then he was too sick to tell me anything. Anything other than the cryptic messages in his drawings.’

‘Sounds like we could be talking late 1700s,’
said Boges, staring at the words he’d typed up, ‘if Piers Ormond’s great-grandfather was involved.’

Boges looked up from his laptop, his round eyes wide with excitement. ‘We are dead-set
getting
closer to cracking the Dangerous Mystery of the Ormonds. This is awesome!’

‘It would be more awesome,’ I said, kicking myself, ‘if I could remember the name of that solicitor. His firm could still be holding valuable information about my family and the Ormond Singularity.’

Boges gathered up the letters and carefully refolded them, squeezing the old envelope to make room to put them back in. Suddenly he frowned. ‘What’s this? There’s something else in here.’

He tipped the envelope and shook it. A fine piece of paper fluttered out. I picked it up gently. ‘It’s an incomplete family tree,’ I said, smoothing it down on the floor in front of us, ‘in
connection
with the Ormond Singularity—I’m guessing that’s what the initials “O. S.” stand for.’

‘So much of it’s faded,’ said Boges, ‘but it looks like someone was tracing the firstborn sons down a particular branch of the Ormond family line. The Ormond Singularity seems to affect the firstborn sons.’

‘You can say that again,’ I muttered,
thinking
of the 365-day countdown, and the warning Millicent had given me about the deadly secret. ‘My great-aunt,’ I told Boges, ‘said it had been
the death of all of the Ormonds who had tried to unravel it. She said it should remain a secret.’

My friend suddenly looked nervous. We both knew that if we kept adding to the family tree, my dad’s name would have been circled next, and then beneath that, mine. Would I die like my dad? That was the question I think we were both asking ourselves.

‘So Ferdinand,’ said Boges.

‘My great-grandfather,’ I added.

‘Was next in line.’

‘Next in line,’ I said, ‘to be cursed by the Ormond Singularity.’

‘That’s one way of looking at it. So after Ferdinand came your grandfather, and then your dad.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He was the firstborn male of that generation.

‘And then comes you. So the Ormond
Singularity
, whatever it is, will affect you.’

‘I hope by “affect” you don’t mean “kill”. There have been a lot of people trying to make that happen. But the Ormond Singularity affects other people too, not just the firstborns in the family. What about that poor, crazy guy? He said the Ormond Singularity was killing him as well.’

‘I think we have to remember that just
knowing
about the Ormond Singularity is dangerous.
That’s why your dad warned you not to say anything.’

As Boges was laughing at a photo someone posted on my blog—a couple of girls wearing ‘Cal is innocent’ T-shirts—he noticed another one of the private messages from Winter.

‘“Love, Little Bird”?’ he asked me, reading the name she’d signed off with. ‘What is that about?’

‘I think her parents used to call her that,’ I said. ‘It’s engraved on the back of her locket.’

‘She’s playing you like a fish on a hook.’

I thought of the last time I was at her flat, the way she had confided in me. ‘She’s given us a lot of help, Boges. Without her, we wouldn’t have the Jewel, and we wouldn’t have known about the writing inside it either.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Boges, unconvinced. ‘It just seems like she only offers something when you’re losing faith in her. The minute it looks like you’ve had enough of her lies, she throws out something to draw you back in again. Look,’ he said like he’d had a slight change of heart, ‘I know she seems like a really cool chick, and she’s helped us out a few times, but please just be careful, OK?’

I was hardly even listening to Boges because I’d just seen an oddly familiar name at the bottom
of a message on my blog. It was the name that old Barty had made me repeat before he died at “Kilkenny”.
The name!

‘What are you staring at? What is it?’ Boges demanded, seeing the look on my face.

‘Look! He’s here! That’s him!’

‘What’s there? What’s him? What are you talking about?’

‘The solicitor whose name I couldn’t
remember
! That’s him! Sheldrake Rathbone!’

Boges stared at the screen. Then back at me. ‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s him! The solicitor! The solicitor who has the Piers Ormond will!’

Boges and I stared at each other.

‘Dude! What are you waiting for?’

‘But what if he’s a fake? And couldn’t the cops hack into this?’

‘I’ve got it all wrapped up pretty tight,’ my friend assured. ‘Let’s check out the security questions.’

I submitted my answers, then looked at Boges for his response when a message came up
requesting
a contact number.

‘Don’t do it,’ was his answer. ‘Ask for his.’

In the box I typed, ‘I’d prefer to have yours, thanks.’

25 JULY

160 days to go
…

I’d checked my blog, using my phone, about twenty times since Boges had left last night, anxious to see whether Sheldrake Rathbone had left a number for me to call.

When a message with his number finally showed up, I dialled right away.

‘You are a hard young man to track down,’ Rathbone said to me.

‘I intend on it staying that way. I guess you understand I’m not living a normal sort of life right now.’

‘Indeed I do. Please let me assure you of my complete discretion. It is my belief that you are innocent of the charges brought against you. You have been engaged in research concerning the Ormond Singularity?’

I was silent. I didn’t know what I should admit to him, what I should give away.

‘I am in possession of a certain document,’
Rathbone continued, ‘which I believe will be very helpful when you combine it with the other things you may have already discovered. I acted as solicitor for some of the older members of your family. Your family has been in our firm’s care for generations.’

‘My Great-uncle Bartholomew told me your name,’ I said. ‘He said you were holding his great-uncle’s will. Piers Ormond—a soldier who died in the First World War. And possibly other documents, too.’

‘That is correct. Our firm holds many
thousands
of such documents from earlier generations. However there are certain complications that have occurred concerning this particular
document
.’

‘Like what?’ I asked, puzzled.

‘A client of mine informs me that you have in your possession a valuable piece of jewellery and an old manuscript. Is this correct?’

I hesitated. How did he know that?

‘How come you’re so interested in me and my family?’ I asked.

‘It is my business to know all about the
family’s
affairs. I have an excellent investigator who keeps me up to date with things I need to know. As well, I have private contacts, people who provide information for me. My client needs to
be sure you’re holding these items. She wants me to confirm it because she potentially has something of great importance for you.’

‘Who is your client?’

‘I’m not at liberty to tell you just yet. All in due course.’

I thought about that for a moment. I’d need to talk to Boges. The Jewel and the Riddle had cost me a lot. I didn’t want to be flashing them around the place, even to a solicitor like Rathbone.

‘When can we meet?’ he asked.

The sound of a car pulling up outside distracted me.

‘I’ll call you back,’ I said, before hanging up.

Car doors were slamming. I ran to the curtains—it was Boges’s uncle again!

I gathered up all my stuff, shoved it in my backpack and slipped outside through the backyard. I would have to risk sneaking through the grounds of the neighbouring property.

I climbed over the ivy-covered wall that divided the mansions. Luckily, the garden of this place was like a tropical jungle and I was able to keep out of sight until I came to a problem. The bolted side gate.

I took a running jump, but the second my hand touched it, gripping the gate to help haul my body over, a deafening alarm started
clanging
and blue lights flashed around the house.

I charged down the side of the house, with the alarm blaring behind me.

As soon as I made it to the road I pulled out my phone to call Boges and slowed down, trying to look completely inconspicuous.

Boges was wearing his sunglasses again when I met him in an alley near Liberty Mall. He
apologised
over and over about his uncle showing up unannounced again, but I didn’t want to waste time talking about that. I needed to tell him about my conversation with Sheldrake Rathbone.

‘So what do you think?’ I asked. ‘I don’t like the idea of showing anyone the Jewel and the Riddle, but he
is
a solicitor.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t think you can trust anyone. Except me,’ Boges added with a cheesy wink. ‘Why can’t he just show you the documents he has? Why do you have to show him the Riddle and the Jewel? And who the heck is his client?’

‘I don’t know. This whole thing is making me feel weird. Do you think he’s just trying to make sure it’s really
me
he’s talking with?’

‘What? You don’t think your double, the Cal Ormond look-alike, might try to put in an appearance?’

‘No,’ I said, surprised by his question. ‘I hadn’t even thought of that. But where
does
he fit into this DMO puzzle?’ I asked, suddenly distracted. ‘Do I have a twin I never knew about?
Bartholomew
and Millicent were twins. Dad and Rafe, too …’

Great-aunt Millicent’s strange song about the two little lambs started looping around in my head.
One was found, the other one lost
.

‘Far out,’ said Boges suddenly looking up from my phone. He’d been playing with it as we spoke. ‘I was just having a look at your blog …’

‘What?’ I asked, snatching it from his hands.

My heart lurched when I saw the latest
message
that had been posted on my blog. I stared at it. For a few seconds, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

My own mother had posted a video.

I clicked the play button.

‘Cal, I know you’re watching this,’ she said, slowly, softly. She looked thinner, older, greyer, and was sitting at a table in Rafe’s house. ‘Please, darling, contact us. We are so worried about you. Gabbi’s still sick. She’s still in the coma … but we’ve brought her home and are looking after her here. We miss you, Cal. It has been such a long time. You know Rafe’s number—all you have to do is call. I’m begging you, Cal. There is no
problem we can’t work out. The help you need is waiting for you. Your uncle and I are doing everything we can to find you. I love you, son. I
forgive
you. I don’t care what you’ve done; you’re my son and always will be. I don’t want you to celebrate your sixteenth birthday out there on your own. Please Cal. Please call.’

The breath was knocked out of me.

Boges looked at me with concern.

‘What can I do? I know it’s hard on Mum,’ I said, ‘but I can’t just give up and go home and walk away from everything we’ve worked for, after everything we’ve been through. I won’t give up on the Ormond Singularity. And I’d be going straight to a prison cell, not my old bedroom!’ My head flopped into my hands. ‘I can’t believe she still doesn’t believe me …’

‘She will. Everyone will. One day soon,’ Boges assured me. ‘Madame Rodini is chasing up the translation of that inscription on the inside of the Jewel.’

‘Great job of changing the subject,’ I said.

Boges left the Jewel and the Riddle with me once again, and I walked and walked, keeping my head down, hoping my new look would keep people off my back. I realised I’d developed a
habit of constantly scanning my environment, always on the lookout. I’d heard of something called the thousand-yard stare used by soldiers whose lives depended on constantly sweeping around in three hundred and sixty degrees.

More than ever before, I wanted to see
Winter
. I got out my mobile to call her.

‘Let’s meet up,’ I said to her, glancing at the time. ‘I know you want to see the Ormond Jewel and I’m happy to show it to you, but here’s the deal.’ I had to set things up in a particular way—I wanted to take charge of this meeting to ensure there were no surprises. ‘You have to meet me now, and you’re staying on the phone with me until I can literally see you. Until you’re in my sight.’

‘But Cal, I—’

‘Drop whatever you’re doing. It’s now or never. I’m waiting at the top of the clock tower.’

‘The clock tower? But—’

‘Stay on the phone and start running!’

‘OK, OK, I’m coming!’

The less time she had to organise anything, the better. And keeping her on the phone meant she couldn’t possibly tell a soul what she was doing, and
who
she was meeting.

I could hear her rushing about, grabbing things, shutting windows, closing doors, and before long her footsteps echoed down the phone, running on concrete.

‘I’m on my way,’ she puffed.

‘Less talk, more running.’

Within fifteen minutes, Winter Frey appeared at the top of the clock tower stairs in
unbelievable
time. She bent over, leaning on her knees, puffing and panting, hand still clutching her phone to her ear.

‘You can hang up now,’ I said as I walked over to her.

‘Fast enough for ya?’ she asked, when she looked up. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and the front strands of her hair snaked down her face. She straightened up then jumped at me, hugging me.

‘Whoa, whoa,’ I laughed. She’d taken me by surprise and I’d stumbled backwards,
unbalanced
by her friendly pounce. I put an arm around her waist to steady us both.

‘Ooh, sorry, I’m all sweaty and gross,’ she said.

Again, I got that weird mixed-up feeling in my guts—happy, confused and awkward.

‘Cal, it’s so good to see you again! You look so—so
straight
!’

I grinned, slowly letting her go.