CONSPIRACY 365
BLACK OPS
Missing
GABRIELLE LORD
To Isobel
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Day 1: 90 days to go …
Day 2: 89 days to go …
Day 4: 87 days to go …
Day 8: 83 days to go …
Day 11: 80 days to go …
Day 16: 75 days to go …
Day 17: 74 days to go …
Day 19: 72 days to go …
Day 23: 68 days to go …
Day 26: 65 days to go …
Day 27: 64 days to go …
Day 28: 63 days to go …
Day 29: 62 days to go …
Day 30: 61 days to go …
Copyright
DAY 1
90 days to go …
Home,
Flood Street, Richmond
11:04 pm
‘What could it mean?’ I remembered asking Boges, as the three of us stared at the image printed out on Winter’s coffee table. ‘Piracy?’
‘Something bad, dude,’ he’d said, ‘coming in 90 days.’
‘Why would they send it to me?’
Winter had looked up from the message I’d received earlier that day, pushing her dark hair back.
‘You have quite a high profile these days, Cal,’ she’d said. ‘A lot of people have noticed you.’ She thought a moment before continuing, ‘Maybe it’s some kind of warning, like the Drowner. We thought that note was a threat, too.’
‘The skull and crossbones image has historically been used both by pirates and as a warning symbol for other dangerous items,’ Boges had said. ‘The image of the world, however, makes me think this message could lean more towards piracy, due to the scope of the potential threat—it’s not like someone’s going to poison the whole world, for example. Well, I mean, that’s unlikely. But piracy—attacking and stealing—that’s more probable.’
‘Thank you, Professor Bodhan, for your enlightening lecture,’ Winter had smirked.
‘In any case, the message is too vague to know for sure. Someone is toying with me again, and I’m sick of riddles,’ I’d snapped, suddenly tired of being used like a chess piece. A powerless pawn.
Despite Boges’s best efforts, he hadn’t been able to trace the sender.
That was this morning. Now, I looked out the window from my desk, trying to stop my mind from worrying. It was getting late and the house was breathlessly still. I was the only one awake, wasting my time trying to study. As if the strange message wasn’t enough to take my mind off my already overdue physics assignment, almost a week had gone by since anyone had last seen Ryan and I was finding it impossible to concentrate.
Winter and I had gone round to his place earlier in the day. I picked up my wallet and fished out the small piece of paper that Ryan’s mum had given us.
‘He left it on his desk,’ Mrs Spencer had said. ‘I’m really worried. Did he say anything to you?’
Winter had shaken her head. ‘I talked to him last week and he didn’t say anything about going anywhere. What about you, Cal?’ she’d asked, turning to me.
‘He hasn’t replied to any of the texts I sent him over the last few days,’ I’d replied.
I smoothed out the paper and read it for the hundredth time.
Winter and I had gone over and over the note, remembering a time when I’d been coerced into writing something just like it. By smudging some letters as a clue, my friends had worked out where I was being held. But this note was perfectly straightforward—no secret messages, no codes, no indication that it was trying to say something else. Ryan had just vanished somewhere with these new friends. Twins have an instinct about each other and my ‘Ryan alarm’ was telling me something was wrong. I was having bad dreams again, which reminded me of the white toy dog nightmares that had plagued me before finding Ryan. Since then, Ryan had always told me everything … until now.
My study notes were spread all over my desk but I wasn’t taking anything in. My mobile rang.
It was Winter. ‘I can’t sleep. I’m thinking about Ryan.’
‘Me too,’ I said. ‘Wish I knew what’s going on.’
‘You know, he did say he was always being mistaken for you and then when people realised he wasn’t the famous Cal Ormond, they were disappointed. Maybe he was getting sick of it.’
When we said goodnight a few minutes later, I thought more about what Winter had said. Did Ryan resent being the Psycho Kid’s twin brother?
A sound on the street made me glance out my window, craning my neck to see what was going on. The noise came again, louder. It was the sound of a scuffle and someone crying out for help! As I stood up for a better look, a struggling woman came into view, being held by two strong-looking young men.
I took the stairs two at a time and within seconds I was out on the street, hoping to use surprise as my best weapon. I pounced on the bully closest to me, tearing him off the woman, while grabbing her with all my strength to wrench her away from the two of them. She swung round, snarling—did she think I was another attacker? But then, quick as flash, her arm flew towards me, and as the two bullies laughed, she hit me with a stun gun.
I saw stars.
DAY 2
89 days to go …
Unknown Location
1:45 am
I woke up and looked around, dazed. Where was I? I struggled to my feet, fearful and alarmed as the memories of the stun gun and the snarling woman flooded my mind. The whole thing had been a set-up! But who were they? What did they want?
I looked around again. Dark walls were dimly lit by tiny pinpricks of light on the roof, like stars. There was no visible door and no windows. It was like being inside a cube of black glass. What was this place? I shoved my hand in my pocket to get my phone, then realised it was sitting on my desk back home. I swore loudly.
I started banging on the walls. ‘Hey! Let me out of here! Let me out! Someone help!’ I was starting to get really scared now. I had no idea who these people were or what they were up to.
I tried yelling and screaming again, but it was no use. My voice simply bounced around the dark black glass of the room. The thought that nobody knew where I was really terrified me.
How was I going to get out of here? Was this something to do with the bizarre text message? A flood of rage surged through my body. ‘You can’t do this!’ In the silence that followed my shrieking, it was clear that they could—and had. What was I going to do?
I noticed a table and chair in the corner. I went over and sat down, desperately trying to think. I didn’t know what time it was or how long I’d been knocked out for. There was a numb, odd feeling where the stun gun had jabbed me.
I banged the table in anger and that’s when I saw the pieces of metal there. I picked them up and turned the pieces over in my hands.
They looked like they might fit somewhere. But where? They must have a purpose. My anger died down as I fiddled with the bits of metal. The three long pieces screwed perfectly into the three holes in the metal disc. Now I had a kind of claw. Maybe I could smash my way out of here? But when I hit the glass with my metal claw, it just skidded along the polished surface. Not even a scratch. Bulletproof glass?
I went over the situation in my mind. I’d been grabbed, knocked out with a stun gun, and then put in this sealed room with these few bits of metal. Logically there had to be a way in and out, otherwise I couldn’t be in here. I looked at the three prongs again. Maybe they went in somewhere? I started to look for three matching holes. I got down on my hands and knees and worked my way around the room. After a few minutes, I slumped against the wall. This was pointless. My mind wandered to thinking about Mum and Gabbi, and
how worried they’d be when they woke up and I wasn’t there.
‘Let me out!’ I yelled. But no-one came. I hung my head, frustrated … and that’s when I spotted it, out of the corner of my eye. There—right down almost at floor level in a corner—were three small holes. Should I try it? What did I have to lose? But what if it was a power point? What if putting this claw into the port created a surge of electricity that would kill me? Think, Cal, think. That didn’t make sense. If my abductors had wanted to kill me, they could have easily done so when I was knocked out.
Cautiously, holding my breath, I gently pushed the prongs into the socket and turned the disc, like a key, pulling my hand away as fast as I could. A whirring sound behind me was a door swinging open in the apparently seamless black mirrored glass. I hesitated for a moment. What lay beyond that door? All I could see was blackness. But I had to get out of there, so I bolted. Then I stopped. I was outside!
The night air was cool against my face as I spun around, ready to fight. But there was no-one there—there was nothing but factory buildings. I was standing in the middle of a moonlit deserted industrial estate. I looked back at the door I’d escaped through—there was no handle, and almost no sign a door was even there. The squat dark building that loomed behind me was disguised to look just like any other on the street.
There’s something really weird going on, I’ve got to get out of here—fast. But as I started to jog away, I heard something coming around the corner towards me. I blinked, for a moment not believing what I saw—a cute fluffy toy puppy, trotting stiffly on short legs, wagging its tail, a powerful torch attached to its red collar. I watched, fascinated, as the mechanical puppy came up to me and stopped. It stood on its back legs, cutely begging. I leaned down to pick it up, but the moment I touched it, I jumped back in alarm. The cute puppy instantly changed into a snarling beast—red eyes flashing, its sharp metal teeth gnashing at me!
Before I could recover from my shock, a harsh robotic voice said, ‘If you want to know what’s going on, you have one chance to find out. One chance to find out what happened to Ryan. Here are your instructions. Point of Storm: 0300. I repeat, Point of Storm: 0300.’
‘What?’ I asked, stupidly talking to the dog. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
The robot dog suddenly switched off, its forelegs dropping to the ground. I stood alone amongst the silent dark buildings, the words echoing in my head. Point of Storm: 0300.
My head was whirling with confusion, but I knew I had to stay focused. What if this really was the key to finding out what had happened to Ryan? I couldn’t let my brother down. 0300 sounded like the time on a 24-hour clock—three o’clock in the morning. Did I have to be somewhere by three? But where? And what time was it now?
I kicked the lifeless robot puppy at my feet. Frustrated and angry, I said out loud, ‘Where am I supposed to be at three o’clock in the morning?’ to the locked and vacant factory buildings. As if in answer to my question, a car appeared in the distance. After what had happened to me, I was taking no chances. I ducked into a dark doorway as it approached. The words Eagle Security ran along the side of the small sedan. I made a quick decision and took a chance, stepping out into the dull streetlight. The car immediately stopped and a heavily built man in a navy uniform stepped out.
‘What’s your business here at this time of night?’ he asked, his face severe. I thought fast—he’d never believe the truth.
‘Jeez,’ I said, ‘am I pleased to see you! Some mates of mine thought it would be funny to dump me out here and make me walk home.’
‘Are you carrying any identification? Any tools?’
‘I’ve got my licence,’ I said, pulling it out and opening it. ‘No tools.’ I’d broken out of a factory, not into one. Mr Eagle Security studied the licence, looking back at me. ‘I know your name for some reason,’ he said. ‘Ah, I know—The X Factor, right?’
‘Not bad,’ I said. ‘I’d really appreciate a lift to a main road so I can get home. Can you tell me what time it is?’
‘It’s after two in the morning,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘So let’s get you out of here, Mr Famous.’
Moments later we were heading for the highway. All the while, my head was spinning, trying to think what Point of Storm might mean. It was a puzzle. Just like the pieces of metal had been a puzzle. Whoever was behind all this was offering me a sporting chance—if I could just work things out.
Mr Eagle Security told me he had another large factory complex to check out a bit further down the highway. As we travelled, I looked for familiar places, my eyes desperately searching for buildings or street names I recognised. I scanned signposts as we flashed past them. We were heading south when I saw a signpost pointing back the other way—Dolphin Point, 17 km. Now I knew where I was—about twenty kilometres from home. I was about to ask the security guard to drop me off when the name on another sign jolted me. ‘Hey! Stop the car!’ I yelled. ‘That’s the turnoff to my place!’
The car pulled over to the edge of the road and I jumped out. ‘Thanks a lot,’ I said. ‘It would have been a long walk home.’
‘You’ve still got another seven kilometres to go,’ said the security guard.
‘I’m a runner,’ I said. ‘I’ll be home in twenty-five minutes.’
The sound of his car faded away as I put my head down and started to run the seven kilometres to Storm Point.
Storm Point
2:58 am
Storm Point turned out to be a tiny fishing village, clustered on the headland, with one dimly lit main road running along the length of a rocky inlet where waves crashed and broke noisily. Opposite, a handful of shops were scattered along the waterfront but everything was dark and locked at this hour.
I’d made it. What now?
I spotted a light at the end of the jetty that reached out into the sea. Puffing hard, I loped along, getting my wind back. As I came closer, I saw that the light was coming from a motor launch moored at the end of the jetty, heaving on the swell. Was Ryan being held in there?
I was about to start moving stealthily towards the boat when I yelped in shock as I was taken down again from behind. My pent-up fury exploded.
‘Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? Where’s my brother?’
My assailants made no response.
‘Hey, I know you! You’re the three thugs who attacked me earlier! What’s going on? Answer me!!’
No-one answered. In total silence, and despite my constant struggling, the three of them—the same two guys and the snarling woman—held me tight and started putting scuba gear onto me!
I kicked and shouted and made it as hard as I could for the silent attackers, but it was useless. Within a minute, I had the weight of a scuba unit on my back. Kicking and struggling, yelling out, swearing, I was dragged onto the boat, which started speeding away from the jetty. A diving mask was roughly pulled over my face as a heavy weight-belt was attached around my waist. My protests were ignored as a regulator was shoved in my mouth, fins were pushed onto my feet and I was hauled onto the gunwale and tipped backwards into the cold, black water!
I sank like a stone as my arms flailed wildly, surrounded by wet darkness, the only sounds the hissing of the oxygen tank and my own gasping breath. I struggled to stop my panic rising as I sank through the murky deep. Calm down, these guys are not trying to kill you. There’s something else going on. My job now was to make sure I survived to find out what that was.
I felt my feet scrape the seabed. Time to get out of here! The first thing I had to do was ditch the weight-belt. I couldn’t be more than a kilometre out from Storm Point and once I got to the surface, I could also get rid of the heavy tank on my back and swim to shore.
I groped around until I found the weight-belt release catch. I pressed it and felt it drop away. I began to push my way to the surface when someone crashed into me from behind and as I clambered to break free, I felt the air flow to my mouthpiece stop.
They’d switched of
f my air supply!
Desperately I twisted and turned, but my hands couldn’t reach the valve. I was going to drown! Fear swamped me as I frantically pulled the useless regulator out of my mouth. How much air did I have left in my lungs? I spun wildly in all directions. I looked up and saw a faint glow above me. The moon! Could I make it to the surface in time? I kicked off from the bottom, swimming as fast and as hard as I could.
I felt the weight of the water pressing down on me and forced myself to blow out slowly as I came up to avoid getting the bends. My lungs were screaming for oxygen and my heart was hammering in my chest.
I kept striking upwards, kicking fiercely, as the moon shone brighter through the water. I spotted a darker patch—the boat! I had to get away from them. That last assault on me had been murderous. Now I was convinced whoever these people were, they were trying to kill me. I don’t know why they’d toyed with me before, giving me chances to work things out. I broke the surface as quietly as I could, swimming slowly to minimise splashing, but it was no use, a blinding light shone straight into my eyes. I’d been seen by my enemies! As I squeezed my eyes against the glare, I could hear my name being called. Somebody was cheering! What the . .?
‘Hey, Cal! Come aboard! You’ve done really well. Come and get warm!’
The light shifted from my face, shining a path to the boat. There I could see the three people who had attacked me waiting, calling out to me. Were these people crazy?
‘It’s OK. Come on up and we’ll explain everything. We’ll tell you what we know about Ryan. Everything will make sense, we promise.’
‘No way!’ I shouted back. ‘I’d rather swim home!’
‘Come on, Cal,’ called out the woman. ‘We were just testing you. And you’ve passed! Please trust me. Don’t you see now that everything you’ve gone through tonight was carefully planned? Come on board and you’ll see.’
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