Six (18 page)

“What did he say?”

“He said he can't . . .”

“Read it!” Parker was already jumping up and pulling on his jeans.

Michael pulled out his cell phone and began to read. “Can't say anything on here. All correspondence being monitored. Meet me in the car lot of the Raw Meat Shack on Rochester Parkway at eleven a.m. on the dot.”

Parker knew exactly where that was.

“That's around the corner from my house. He must know where I live.”

Michael thought about this. “Maybe it's a coincidence?” he asked.

Parker could tell he was as unconvinced of this as Parker was.

“You think he traced your e-mail?”

Parker was starting to learn that Michael did not take kindly to having his computing skills questioned. “No way. Not possible.”

“Then what do you suggest? You think that of all the places in the world he could be, he just happens to live next door to me?”

Michael thought about it for a moment and then his eyes lit up. “He must know about your dad! He must know you'd be looking for him. He probably works for the same company!”

Of course! It made perfect sense.

“What time is it?” he asked.

Michael checked his cell phone. “Eight thirty.”

*  *  *  *  *  *

Michael had to wait for Hilda to leave the house to run a quick errand before he was able to return to the tree house with breakfast.

“I told her being sick made me hungry,” said Michael as he pulled out a mountain of toast and croissants from the bag he'd brought.

Michael and Emma, now awake, tucked into the spread but, despite the fact that he had barely eaten in the last twenty-four hours, Parker could only manage a few small bites.

“Checking the time won't make it go any faster,” said Michael.

Parker looked up from Michael's cell phone and nodded. “I guess.” He turned to Emma.

“I think you should stay here,”
he signed.
“It's safe. I'll let you know on Effie how it's going.”

Emma thought about it for a moment and then shrugged.
“Fine.”

“Oh, right. Good.”

Parker had not expected her to agree so easily—she hated being excluded from anything. Then again, figured Parker, getting kidnapped and losing your father on the same day was likely to make anybody act strangely.

“You'll be safe,” said Michael, speaking clearly in Emma's direction. “My dad has the whole place hooked up with every security feature possible. Anyone would think we kept gold bars here.”

“You don't?” asked Parker.

Michael rolled his eyes.

*  *  *  *  *  *

At ten o'clock Parker could wait no longer. Michael called Brendan, who drove up to the tree house to collect them.

“Bolt the door,” said Parker as he climbed down the ladder.

Emma nodded.
“Please be careful, Parker,”
she signed.

“I will be,” he said. He closed the hatch over his head and climbed down the rungs to the waiting car.

“Right then,” said Brendan as he and Michael climbed in. “Where to?”

“Raw Meat Shack,” said Michael. “We have to be there at eleven.”

“We'll be early,” said Brendan.

“That's fine,” said Parker. “We can wait.”

“Right you are, then,” said Brendan as he pulled away.

*  *  *  *  *  *

They pulled into the Raw Meat Shack parking lot forty-five minutes early. It was empty, and a battered metal
WE'RE CLOSED
sign hung on the heavily padlocked doors. This was not a surprise; The Raw Meat Shack was not a breakfasting kind of place. Brendan pulled up at the space nearest the door and turned the engine off.

“What do you think he's going to say?” asked Michael.

“I don't know.”

“What if he's completely nuts?”

“I don't care as long as he can tell me something that helps me find Solomon. Anything.”

Parker picked up Michael's phone that was on the seat between them and checked the time again. Forty-three minutes to go. Parker sighed. Two minutes later he looked at the time again.

“A watched pot never boils,” said Brendan from behind his open newspaper. Parker knew he was right, and reluctantly he handed the phone back to Michael. He turned to look out the window, his knees jigging up and down impatiently.

Unable to help himself, Parker spent the next half hour ignoring Brendan's advice and checking Michael's phone constantly.

“I have to keep repeating the level every time you do that,” said Michael. “You should get a watch.”

“I will,” mumbled Parker. He checked the time again. “Ten minutes,” he said. Brendan nodded, and Parker turned to Michael to hand the phone back when it binged loudly.

“You've got an e-mail,” said Parker. He read the name of the sender. “It's Anteater!”

Before Michael could check the phone himself, Parker pressed down on the e-mail icon. He read the e-mail out loud.

“  ‘Hey, people of Avecto. Good try! I have nothing to say to any of you, so you can stop trying to find out what I know. You can follow me, threaten me, or even kill me, but one day soon the truth will come out. PS How's the work on SIX going? Yours (don't bother contacting me again), Anteater.'  ”

Parker turned to Michael with a look of utter confusion. “Is this from the same address?”

Michael grabbed the phone and ran through his e-mails. “No,” he muttered. “Different e-mail.”

The boys went silent, both trying to figure out what was going on. In the front Brendan whistled quietly to himself, oblivious to the confusion happening behind him.

“Okay. So first he e-mails us and tells us to meet him, and then he e-mails us to tell us not to. The guy really is nuts.”

As Michael spoke, Parker's face turned pale.

“What's wrong?” asked Michael.

Parker didn't answer. His mind was racing through the logic of the explanation he had come up with.

“Parker?”

Parker lifted his head slowly and stared at Michael for a moment. His voice was barely a whisper when he finally spoke.

“We've been tricked.”

“What?”

Parker could barely breathe. “It's a trick! It wasn't Anteater who e-mailed us this morning—it was the people who took my dad!” He leaned forward, and the red digital clock on the dashboard caught his eye. Four minutes to eleven. “Brendan, we need to go!”

Brendan threw his paper down in surprise.

“Get out of here!”

To his credit, Brendan didn't say a word. He leaned over, turned the key, and spun the wheel around.

“I don't get it,” said Michael.

“That's how they knew I lived near here!” said Parker as the car zoomed across the lot. “Anybody could have checked the forum. Think about it!”

Michael stared at Parker as he processed what Parker was saying. His eyes widened.

“Ohhh.”

“We need to get out of here, Brendan,” said Parker.

“We're going, we're going,” said Brendan, pulling out left onto the main road. He accelerated away.

He should have felt relieved as the red-bricked building of the Raw Meat Shack disappeared into the distance, but he felt nothing of the sort. His heart was pounding, and his mind was spinning with what-ifs.

“They wouldn't have let us get away a second time,” mumbled Parker. “They might have killed us.”

“Parker!”

Parker looked up and saw that Michael was turned in his seat, looking out the back window.

“Somebody's turning into the car lot. I don't think it's the car from yesterday,” said Michael.

Parker spun around and peered out. He froze. Michael was right. It wasn't the car from yesterday—even at a distance he could tell it was the wrong color. This car was silver. Parker felt his stomach somersault as he realized he recognized it. It was the same car that had followed them to the lake on Sunday.

“They've parked,” said Michael. “They didn't see us.”

He turned back around and dropped into his seat.

“Wow! That was close,” Michael said. He was laughing nervously. “You really think it wasn't him?”

Parker sat with his head in his hands. When he finally looked up, the expression on his face quickly wiped the smile from Michael's.

“E-mail him back. Tell him we're not with Avecto. Don't mention my dad's name! Ask him what he can tell me about Solomon Gladstone. Tell him I need to find him.”

“What if this is another trick?”

“It's not,” said Parker. Michael nodded in agreement. It wouldn't make sense if it was.

Michael started to tap away at his phone.

“Sent,” he said, looking up.

They waited a few minutes in silence as Brendan took them on a long route home, just to be sure they weren't being followed.

“Has he replied yet?” asked Parker.

“No.”

Another minute passed.

“And now?”

“No!”

Parker drummed his fingers on the armrest.

“Now?”

“No!”

Beep.

“I mean yes.”

Parker leaned over and grabbed the phone.

“What did he say?” Michael asked.

Parker sighed deeply and read out the message. “  ‘Leave me alone.'  ”

He let out a loud groan of frustration and turned back to the phone. He started typing.

“What are you writing?” asked Michael. Parker didn't respond until he'd finished the e-mail. He held it up for Michael to read.

“  ‘Please. My dad has been taken to SIX. Before he was taken, he told me to find Solomon Gladstone. I need your help.'  ”

“I thought you weren't going to mention your dad?”

“What choice do I have, Michael? He's the only person who might be able to help me.”

Michael shrugged, and Parker turned the phone back to face him. He clicked send. They spent the rest of the journey back to Michael's house staring at the phone in silence, Parker's thoughts broken only briefly to update Emma via Effie.

“Did he answer yet?”
signed Emma as they climbed up into the tree house. Neither Parker nor Michael responded, but the answer was written clearly on their faces.

The three of them flopped down on the sofa and turned the television on. There was nothing more to do but wait.

Anteater replied at twelve twenty-eight. Parker knew the precise time because he was staring at Michael's phone the exact moment it arrived. It was no coincidence—he had done nothing but stare at it since they'd got back to the tree house.

Emma, though she didn't hear the alert, didn't miss its arrival either, as both Michael and Parker leapt up off the sofa at the same time.

“What does it say?” asked Michael.

Parker switched on Effie so Emma could hear too. He read the e-mail to himself first, and Emma, who was listening in, heard it also. They both looked at each other in surprise, and their faces broke out into wide grins.

“Tell me what it says!” said Michael.

“Okay, okay. He says . . . ‘This changes things. My dad was taken too. I will only talk face-to-face. Guessing you live somewhere around Avecto HQ. If so, I am at the Molten Comic Convention in Syracuse today and tomorrow. Let me know.'  ”

Parker rushed to press reply and, in his haste, dropped the phone.

Calm down!
said Emma.

You calm down!
said Parker as he picked the phone up off the floor.

That doesn't make any sense,
grumbled Emma. Parker looked up and glared at her, then went back to typing the e-mail. He said nothing until he finished typing, and then he looked up at Michael.

“I'm going to Syracuse,” said Parker. “Can I borrow some money?”

*  *  *  *  *  *

Emma had always insisted that it was possible to find the silver lining of any cloud—no matter how dark or ominous. Disasters raised awareness, injustices inspired collective action, deaths carried lessons that might save others, and also, as had happened with their family, made people stronger and closer than they might ever have been. The silver lining was not always easy to find for Parker, but in the case of the last few days it was clear as anything: Michael's friendship and Brendan's help.

He was grateful for everything that they had done already, but even more so when they both insisted they would not allow Parker to travel to Syracuse on his own. Somehow or other, Parker hoped he would have found a way to overcome every hurdle that had been put in his way since his father's disappearance, but there was no denying that having their help had made things considerably easier.

At last, thought Parker as he climbed into the car behind Michael and Emma, they were making progress. In less than two hours—Brendan's estimation—they would be in Syracuse and finally—
finally
—they would be able to get some answers. Anteater had given them precise instructions for when they got there. Until then there was nothing more he could do. He settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. He slept the whole way.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Parker had heard about comic conventions, and walked into the center expecting to find crowds of people dressed up as characters from sci-fi shows and comic books. He was not disappointed. Apart from the four of them, every single person in the ticket line was wearing a costume. Suddenly feeling very conspicuous for their lack of effort, Parker took the ticket that Brendan handed him and followed a group of three squealing teenage girls dressed as pink lizards into the main room. He led the way over to the side of the room, away from the steady stream of people entering, and looked around to get his bearings.

“Wow!” said Michael as the four of them stood side by side and took in their surroundings.