by Jack Heath
‘They’re over here!’ a voice screamed.
Young. Female. The cripple!
‘Hey! The bad guys are getting away!’
Footsteps crashed through the undergrowth towards Ben. The police were coming.
‘I see him!’ another voice yelled. ‘This way!’
Ben could feel the net tightening around him. The police were closing in. His heart making a rapid drumbeat in his chest, he scrambled back towards the hatch and lifted the lid. Without even thinking, he jumped back onto the ladder, pulled the hatch shut above his head and dropped down to the tunnel below.
Without Cobra’s torch, the tunnel was pitch black. Ben ran, his hands outstretched in front of his face to protect his head from any hidden obstacles. His terrified breaths echoed around the stone walls.
When the panic subsided, he realised he was headed back to the burning building, which was also surrounded by police officers. Bad idea.
His fumbling hands found a hidden side-corridor, and he entered it. Maybe he could find another exit. Somewhere closer to the rest of Kelton. He had getaway cars stashed in several rented garages around town. Each had fifteen thousand dollars in the glove compartment, along with a false passport. If he could get to them before Cobra told the cops who he was, then he’d be able to get out of the state, or even the country.
After three more turns, his escape through the maze no longer seemed like a good idea. There seemed to be hundreds of tunnels, all so twisted that it was impossible to maintain his sense of direction. Especially in the dark. Ben reached for his phone, which had a torch app on it. Then he remembered that he didn’t have it. He had left it in the warehouse, in case the police were tracking it. The fire would have destroyed it by now.
Ben decided to go back to the hatch near the trail. He could wait underneath it until the cops went away. They might not find the hatch, and even if they did, Ben could hide in the tunnels until they gave up. They couldn’t search the whole network of mineshafts and corridors. It would take years.
Ben reached a fork in the tunnel and stopped. Which way led back to the hatch? Left or right?
Left, he was pretty sure. He turned and kept walking. But a few metres further along there was a bend he didn’t remember. Had he gone the wrong way?
The panic came back, stronger now. He didn’t know the way.
It felt like the blackness was eating him alive.
‘I surrender!’ he shouted. The cops would take him to jail, but that was better than being lost down here in the dark.
His voice echoed around the web of tunnels, bouncing back a little quieter each time until it was gone.
‘I give up!’ he yelled, his voice going high and squeaky. ‘I want to come out!’
NO-ONE ANSWERED. Nobody could hear him. He couldn’t find his way back to the hatch or the burning warehouse. He was lost. Alone. In the darkness.
SOMEWHERE IN THE DARK
‘Did you hear that?’ Jarli asked.
‘Hear what?’ Anya asked.
‘Sounded like someone screaming.’
Anya peered into the shadowy tunnel. ‘I heard nothing.’
Jarli laid back down. ‘Maybe I imagined it.’
They had decided to stay here, at the bottom of the ladder. The trapdoor stood open above them. They couldn’t go back up because of the fire, but they weren’t willing to follow the tunnel. Not with the bad guys lurking somewhere in the dark.
‘What if the fire spreads down here?’ Jarli asked.
‘It won’t,’ Anya said. ‘Heat goes up, not down. And all the petrol would have burned up by now.’
Jarli wished he shared her confidence. The crackling of flames had become a roar above them. It sounded like the world was ending. He hoped Bess made it to safety before the fire spread.
‘So what were Cobra and Gorman actually doing?’ Anya asked.
‘Making people disappear. For money.’
‘Yes, but how? Where did they put their victims?’
‘Dad didn’t seem to know.’ Jarli stared into the gloomy mineshaft. ‘Maybe in these tunnels.’
Anya shivered. ‘We will find out when the police search them, I guess.’
They fell silent for a while.
‘I have been thinking about your app,’ Anya said finally. ‘It will probably help more people than it hurts, but I do not think you should use it too much.’
‘Why not?’ Jarli asked.
‘Because if you trust too much, you will sometimes be hurt,’ Anya said. ‘But if you trust not enough, you will hurt other people. Soon you will find yourself alone. Trust is more important than truth.’
Jarli considered this. Anya seemed like a good person. He owed her his life.
‘Do you have secrets?’ he asked. ‘Things the app might expose?’
‘I do,’ Anya said. ‘But I won’t tell you what they are. In fact, I will lie to you to protect them. It is my hope that you will trust me anyway—that you will believe that I mean no-one any harm, and that I am your friend.’
‘OK.’ Jarli extended his hand. Anya shook it. Then she tilted her head to one side, just like Hooper did when she heard a possum.
‘Listen,’ she said.
‘I don’t hear—’ Jarli began. Then there was a boom, like a distant explosion.
He gasped as something landed on his head. Something tiny and cold.
Another droplet landed on his palm. A hissing sound filled the air. Black spots appeared on the floor all around him, faster and faster.
It was raining.
AFTER THE STORM
‘Hooper!’ Jarli cried.
The dog ran up to him, wagging her tail and grinning. If she still felt sick after the stomach pump, she showed no sign of it. Like always, she just looked delighted to see him.
Jarli hugged her fiercely. ‘Who’s my good dog? Who’s the best dog in the whole wide world?’
Hooper woofed.
‘You!’ Jarli said. ‘That’s right!’
‘Normally we don’t allow dogs in the station, unless they’re guide dogs,’ Constable Frink said with a smile. ‘So if anyone asks, you’re blind.’
‘Hooper was the victim of a crime,’ Mum said. ‘She has a right to be here.’
‘I assume someone will take her statement shortly?’ Bess asked Frink, keeping a straight face.
‘On paper, she’s probably evidence,’ Kirstie said thoughtfully.
The police station felt much less scary than the last time Jarli was here. Maybe that was because Cobra was handcuffed and locked up in a cell in the basement. Or perhaps it was because Jarli was sitting between Anya and Bess. Being surrounded by friends and family made him feel invincible. And the rainstorm, which had extinguished the fire and saved the town, made him feel like his run of bad luck might be over.
Constable Blanco was interviewing Dad in the next room. Dad had a lawyer with him, but Jarli didn’t think he was in trouble. He wasn’t suspected of any crime, other than not contacting the police sooner. Blanco had said he wouldn’t be charged for that, given that he had feared for his family’s lives.
Now that Jarli had discovered Dad’s darkest fears, he hoped that they could finally be honest with one another. Dad shouldn’t have to worry alone, and Jarli should know when he was in danger.
But he remembered Anya’s words: trust is more important than truth.
Mum and Kirstie were sitting opposite, quizzing Anya. Mum kept asking boring, polite questions, such as: ‘And what do your parents do, Anya?’ Jarli noticed Anya’s answers were vague, and she didn’t give much detail about her father.
Kirstie seemed to be in awe of Anya. Her questions were more like, ‘Can you do a backflip?’ and ‘Is it true that the Russian government has captured a UFO?’ and ‘Could you kill someone with both hands tied behind your back?’
‘Kirstie!’ Mum said. ‘That’s a horrible question to ask.’
‘I never tried,’ Anya told Kirstie. She sounded serious, but Jarli thought he could see a smile hovering at the corn
er of her mouth.
‘Cooool,’ Kirstie whispered.
Dad emerged from the interview room with Constable Blanco and the lawyer. Dad looked exhausted. Unlike Jarli, he’d been unravelling this conspiracy for weeks. Retelling the whole story must have been hard.
‘Dad!’ Jarli cried. He ran up and hugged his father. Dad squeezed him tightly.
‘I’m so glad you didn’t get hurt,’ Dad said. ‘I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this.’
‘It’s OK, Dad. Everything’s OK. It’s over.’
Kirstie got there a second later, and then Mum wrapped her arms around everybody. Jarli had so many questions, but he didn’t want to spoil the moment. No-one else said anything either.
‘Glad you’re alright, Mr D,’ Bess said, when everyone had let go.
‘Thanks,’ Dad said. ‘And thank you for looking after Jarli.’
Bess shrugged, but she looked pleased. ‘I always do. At least this time Anya did most of the heavy lifting.’
‘Jarli,’ Constable Blanco said. ‘I’d like to talk to you, next.’
She gestured to the open door of the interview room. Jarli wondered if he was in trouble.
‘It’s not too late to correct some of the things you told me last time,’ Blanco added.
Mum and Dad raised their eyebrows.
‘Uh, OK,’ Jarli said. ‘Sure.’
He followed Blanco in. She gestured for him to shut the door behind him.
‘Firstly, congratulations on your courage over the last twenty-four hours,’ Blanco said. ‘Your quick thinking probably saved Anya’s life.’
‘Have you found Mr Gorman?’ Jarli asked.
‘Still no sign of him. But we have almost the whole force looking. Pictures of him have been distributed all over the country. And we found the listening device.’
‘Listening device?’
‘The one in your home. Your dad thought there might be one, and he was right. Our bug sweepers found the transmitter. It was sewn into a pillow, with REST IN PEACE, JARLI written on the top. That wasn’t just a warning to your dad not to tell anyone about Viper—Gorman wanted to know if your dad suspected him personally, so he arranged for a microphone to be delivered.’
‘What about his victims?’ Jarli asked. ‘Did you find them?’
Blanco frowned. ‘His victims?’
‘I read the message on Dad’s secret laptop,’ Jarli said. ‘Mr Gorman and the old man—and maybe someone else—they were making people disappear.’
‘Yes,’ Constable Blanco said. ‘But they weren’t victims. They were clients.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Jarli said.
‘They were very rich people who had made very powerful enemies. So they paid a crime lord—codenamed “Viper”—to help them vanish. Mr Gorman was laundering the money for Viper. Clients would pay him, supposedly to secure their data, and he would give the money to Viper. I don’t know who Viper is, or how he was helping these people escape, but Ben Gorman will tell us . . . when we catch him.’
It all made sense now. ‘What about the old man?’ Jarli asked. ‘Cobra. Couldn’t he tell you how the whole thing worked?’
‘Maybe,’ Blanco said. ‘But so far, he hasn’t said a word. He hasn’t even asked for a lawyer.’
‘Who is he?’
‘We don’t know. Nothing in his pockets, no labels on his clothes. No hits on the facial recognition database. His fingerprints have been burned off. We’re waiting on a judge to give us permission to take a blood sample for DNA. Whoever he is, I think he’s been doing this a long, long time.’
‘He said he’d been in prison,’ Jarli said.
‘Really?’ Blanco scribbled a note to herself. ‘Must not be a local prison, or we’d have him on file. Did he have any kind of accent?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Jarli leaned back in his chair. He wondered what would have happened differently if he hadn’t made the app. Maybe he would have figured things out faster, because he wouldn’t have assumed that Cobra’s attack was anything to do with him. Or maybe Gorman would have been able to hurt Jarli’s family more easily, because they wouldn’t have been surrounded by reporters all the time. Or perhaps everything would have ended up exactly the same.
‘Can I ask you something?’ he said.
‘Sure.’
The door burst open. It was the other cop Jarli had met before—Constable Frink.
‘Blanco,’ he said. His eyes were wide.
‘I’m in the middle of an interview,’ Blanco said.
‘It’s Cobra,’ Frink said. ‘He’s gone.’
NOT OVER
Constable Blanco didn’t stop Jarli from following them downstairs to the cells. If Cobra was loose in the building, Jarli didn’t want to be left alone.
There were four cells, bars painted white, scratches on the mirrors, the brickwork worn but solid. A TV was positioned so that all the cells could see it. A news report was playing silently on the screen.
All four cells were empty. But one of them had a folded piece of paper lying on the ground.
‘He was right here,’ Frink was saying. ‘He was handcuffed. The cage was locked. I was watching the stairs.’
Blanco walked into the cell. She stomped on the floor, checking that it was solid, even though she must have been here many times before. She ran her hands along the walls.
‘You’re sure this was the right cell?’ she said.
‘I’m not an idiot,’ Frink said. ‘And the other cells are empty too.’
Blanco pulled on a latex glove and picked up the piece of paper. A name was written on one side:
JARLI
Blanco read the other side, her eyes growing wider and wider.
‘We searched him,’ Frink said. ‘He didn’t have anything to write with.’
‘He didn’t write this,’ Blanco said.
‘What does it say?’ Jarli demanded.
Blanco showed it to him.
Published by Scholastic Australia Pty Ltd
PO Box 579 Gosford NSW 2250
ABN 11 000 614 577
www.scholastic.com.au
Part of the Scholastic Group
Sydney • Auckland • New York • Toronto • London • Mexico City
o New Delhi • Hong Kong • Buenos Aires • Puerto Rico
First edition published by Scholastic Australia Pty Limited, 2018.
This electronic edition published by Scholastic Australia Pty Limited, 2018.
E-PUB/MOBI eISBN: 978-1-76027-276-0
Text © Jack Heath 2018.
Illustration and design copyright © Scholastic Australia, 2018. Additional illustrations. Cover: concrete © leolintang/Shutterstock.com; fire © polygraphus/Shutterstock.com; running man © istockphoto.com/PeteSherrard. Internals: banner © istockphoto.com/Lava4images; faces © cTermit/Shutterstock.com; frame © istockphoto.com/gn8; grunge border © Gordan/Shutterstock.com; map icon © ananaline/Shutterstock.com; sports © Luciano Cosmo/Shutterstock.com.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, unless specifically permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968 as amended.