November (5 page)

Boges pulled out a big paper bag with meat pies inside, while Winter jumped up to fetch some tomato sauce for us from her cupboard.

As we silently ploughed into the food, I tried to remember the last time I’d felt entirely
carefree
. I had to cast my mind back to way before Dad died. Maybe it was during that last summer we all had together at Treachery Bay. Mum sitting under the beach umbrella with a pile of books, me, Dad and Gab mucking around in the boat. All of us heading into the tiny township for hot chips to go with our catch of the day.

‘Boges, you said you had something for me,’ I said. ‘I’m guessing you weren’t talking about pies.’

‘Hmm, just a sec,’ he said with a mouthful. Boges put down his pie, licked his greasy fingers and dived into his school bag again. ‘I want you to wear this,’ he said, pulling out a small, padded envelope. ‘Inside is a failsafe GPS transmitter. You can use it as a distress signal, but they don’t come cheap, so it’s for emergencies only.’

‘In case the Ormond Angel doesn’t show up to save me,’ I joked, opening the package.

‘You can put it under the inner sole of your sneaker,’ said Boges, ignoring my comment, ‘under the arch of your foot.’ He handed me a pocket knife. ‘Here, use this. Cut a small piece of rubber out of your shoe,’ instructed Boges. ‘The transmitter will fit in without creating much of an uncomfortable bump for you to walk on.’

The transmitter was similar to the one Oriana had buried under my skin. I turned it over in my hand.

‘Once you activate it, by pressing the tiny switch, it’ll set off a distress signal which means I’ll be able to track you down.’

I pulled off my left sneaker and carefully lifted the inner sole. Where there was a raised part—to support the arch of my foot—I began
digging
with my knife, cutting out a shape similar
to the transmitter. I tore the rubbery piece out of my shoe then tossed it into the bin. The
transmitter
fit perfectly in the gap I’d created.

‘Cool,’ said Boges. ‘Now use some of this to tape it down.’

He handed me electrical tape. As smoothly as I could, I taped the beacon down, replaced the inner sole, then put my sneaker back on and stood up, walking around the small room.

‘It just feels like I have a coin stuck in my shoe.’

‘You’ll get used to it,’ said Boges.

‘Thanks, Boges. This is cool. Hopefully I won’t actually have to use it.’

‘So,’ said Winter, ‘let’s talk about the list of nicknames. Would you believe that “The Little Prince” is the name of a famous novel written by a French aviator, Antoine de Saint-Exupery?’ The French name rolled off her tongue easily. ‘It was about a pilot marooned in the desert.’

Immediately Great-uncle Bartholomew came to mind. But that didn’t make any sense at all. If there was one person who
didn’t
have the Ormond Riddle and the Jewel, it was him. And surely Rathbone would have known to cross him out, seeing as he was dead.

Winter handed each of us a photocopy of Rathbone’s list of nicknames.

‘And get this,’ Winter said, ‘part of the story involves the interpretation of drawings, and—’ she paused for effect, looking hard at me, ‘—a boy and a rose. Remind you of anything?’

‘Freaky,’ I said, recalling Dad’s drawing of exactly that. The three of us looked at each other.

‘Rathbone must know a lot about my dad’s drawings and how important they are for
decoding
the Ormond Singularity,’ I said, ‘to pick a nickname like that.’

‘All the hours I’ve spent with Miss Sparks at the library lately,’ Winter began, ‘I’ve been completely distracted by this list, trying to work out who the names could belong to. But still, I haven’t really figured out anything. Only
Rathbone
knows who they are—he’s the one who came up with them. And obviously he was frustrated with getting nowhere, if you found the list in the bin.’

She hesitated, as if she was about to say
something
more, but then shook her head. Her deep, dark eyes looked steadily into mine, and then she turned away. ‘We’re up against more than we bargained for. Maybe Nelson can help us.’

Winter looked awkwardly at Boges and then at me.

Boges squirmed uncomfortably. ‘If you’d like me to leave or something,’ he said, ‘I can.’

‘No, Boges,’ she said. ‘You should hear this, too.’ She turned to me. ‘Cal, the reason I needed to talk to you wasn’t just because of those
nicknames
. Sligo called me, asking me for help.’

‘What kind of help?’ I blurted out.

‘He thinks that because you and I are similar ages, I might have heard something, somehow. As far as I can tell he’s more convinced than ever that you’re the one holding the Riddle and the Jewel, and now he has Oriana convinced too.
Cal, you have the
combined
forces of the king and queen of the underworld after you.’

It felt like Sligo and Oriana had been after me forever—and that had made my life tough enough—but now they were working together?

‘And there’s something else,’ said Winter, looking away. ‘I’m not exactly sure, but I feel like something’s up with Sligo. I mean, something’s up in the way he’s acting with me. He looks at me differently, and I’m scared he’s onto me, that he suspects something.’

‘What makes you say that?’ asked Boges.

‘A couple of times I’ve looked up to find him scrutinising me. Then he looks away really fast, pretending he wasn’t doing it. Maybe he’s seen me snooping in his office or in the car yard. I think I know all the security cameras to avoid, but maybe there are hidden ones that I don’t know about. I might be imagining the whole thing, you know, because I feel so guilty when I’m snooping through Sligo’s stuff.’

‘Guilty?’ I asked. ‘What do you have to feel guilty about? He forged your dad’s will,
remember
? And you would never have found that out without your snooping.’

‘I know, I know,’ she said. ‘How could I forget? It hasn’t left my mind since I found his phoney signature. I don’t think “guilty” is the right word
to describe how I feel. Sligo’s just extremely edgy lately. Everything that went on at his banquet has really spooked him. He’s always been
paranoid
, but now …’

‘Winter,’ I said, holding her hand. ‘Just
promise
me you’ll be really, really careful in future. I’m here for you. Always.’

Winter squeezed my hand.

‘Don’t rush anything, OK?’ I said. ‘If you can hold out just a little bit longer, we’ll both be able to help you sort everything out.’

‘That’s right,’ added Boges. ‘We’re
both
here for you. Sligo is one dangerous dude. I really think you should let me design something for you—something in the line of personal self-defence.’

‘Nothing that requires detonation,’ I said, hastily.

‘I was thinking some kind of skunk gas, actually. It could be—’

‘Forget it!’ Winter interrupted.

Something suddenly popped into my head. ‘Kelvin dobbed Oriana in over Gabbi’s
kidnapping
, right? Remember the footage we saw of her going ballistic on TV? Why is she still around?’

‘Allegations are one thing,’ said Boges. ‘Getting enough evidence against someone is a different matter. The police need evidence. At the
moment
, it’s just Kelvin’s word against Oriana’s—and
who’s going to believe him against a hotshot lawyer?’

‘Unless he does have some physical evidence against her,’ I said. ‘Like DNA or video footage showing her with Gabbi.’

‘Who knows,’ said Boges. ‘Hey, want to write anything on your blog while I have my laptop out?’

‘I guess … It’s been a while.’ I grunted. I had a bad feeling. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe Winter’s paranoia had rubbed off on me. While waiting for Boges to access my blog, I stood up and went to the window, lifting the curtain and looking outside.

Boges gasped.

I let the curtain fall and turned back. ‘What is it?’

My stomach started churning when I saw the alarmed expression on Boges’s face as he stared at the screen.

‘What’s that?’ cried Winter, who’d crept behind him to peer over his shoulder at the screen.

‘What’s
what
?’ I asked, nervously
approaching
the laptop.

Something seriously weird was happening. Pages and pages of repeated numbers and words were scrolling over the screen. I focused my eyes to try and catch what it said.

‘Is something stuck?’ I said. ‘What’s with that text?’

‘It’s nothing to do with my machine,’ said Boges, looking flustered and hitting combinations of keys. ‘It’s just doing it by itself! Someone’s hacked your blog!’

‘Hacked my blog? But how?’

‘I don’t know!’ said Boges.

‘What’s going to happen on the eleventh of November?’ asked Winter.

The three of us looked at each other. We were all blank.

‘That date doesn’t mean anything to any of us?’ I asked.

‘No, dude.’

Winter shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

‘It has to mean something for someone to have hacked my blog to make it known,’ I said. ‘But is it a warning or a threat?’

Nobody answered.

‘Boges, can we still post a message?’ I asked.

Boges spread his hands out helplessly. ‘It won’t let me do anything. It’s completely frozen. I’m going to have to close it down.’

With a few deft keystrokes, Boges shut down the page. He looked up at me. ‘Think hard. Are you sure you have no idea what that date might mean?’

I shook my head. ‘Seriously no idea.’

‘OK, well I’ll sort this out. I’ll do what I can to clean it up. I don’t know how, just yet, but I’ll get it back to normal. This could just be some kind of spam. Some kind of advertising.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ said Winter. ‘I think it’s a warning. This blog has more protection than most, right?’

‘Right,’ answered Boges.

‘Your average spammer can’t do that.’

Something alerted me in the silence that
followed
her words. All of a sudden, the building was too quiet.

‘Something’s wrong,’ I said, jumping up.

‘What?’ Winter’s shadowed eyes, dark with concern, shot over to the windows. Carefully, I opened the door and looked outside.

‘What is it, Cal?’

Danger!
Every instinct in my body was
warning
me. I shouldn’t have risked hanging around Winter’s flat for so long.

I looked outside again. The hot expanse of the flat roof was empty.

‘Police siren!’ I hissed. I ran outside and looked down to the street below.

I jumped back in horror at what I saw!

I rushed to the rear side of the building where the fire-escape steps descended to the backyard. Again, I recoiled in shock.

The building was surrounded!

I raced back inside Winter’s flat.

‘The place is surrounded by cops! They’re crawling in the street in front of the building and there’s a whole gang of them at the bottom of the fire-escape.’

Winter ran out to the parapet overlooking the backyard. She spun around, her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my God! They’re about to come up!’

‘They must have followed you!’ I said, turning to Boges.

‘Why me, dude? They might have followed
you
!’

‘Shut up, you two!’ Winter yelled. ‘This is no time to be arguing. Cal! You have to get out of here!’

‘I’d have to be able to fly!’ I said. ‘The
building’s
covered!’

I could practically hear the cops running up the stairs, taking them two at a time up to the top of the building.

There was no escaping through the back way or the front. I ran to the right side of the
building
. About three metres lower than the flat roof I was standing on was the roof of another block of flats. There was a three-metre gap between the buildings. Could I jump that?

I raced to the other side. There was no hope
there—the next building was a street’s width away.

I raced to the other side again. This was the only possibility. A big jump. From this roof to the other.

‘You’re not thinking of jumping across there!’ cried Winter, running over and grabbing my arm. ‘Cal, it’s too dangerous! That gap’s too big! You’ll never make it!’