February

by Gabrielle Lord

  All of a sudden I felt the hairs at the back of my neck prickling up. Someone was watching me. I was sure of it. I swung round, but there was no-one there. I turned my attention back to the basketball court and that’s when I got the shock of my life!

  There was a kid on the other side of the netted-off court staring at me through the mesh! But that wasn’t what had frozen me.

  I stared back in disbelief!

  Was I seeing things?

  He looked as shocked as I did, which didn’t help.

  My brain tried to make sense of it. Was I looking at some sort of reflection? I rubbed my eyes like a spun-out cartoon character, but when I looked again, he was still there.

  He was the spitting image of me—or, at least, what used to be me. My face, my body, my eyes, my nose, my jaw, my eyebrows. My face!

  My face before I had to try and make myself look unrecognisable.

  I stared again. He still looked just like me, and he was still staring right back at me.

  I was spellbound.

  I finally snapped myself out of it and shouted to him.

  ‘Hey!’ I yelled, as I started to run around the sides of the court, trying to get to him. The moment I started running, so did he. But he was running away from me.

  He took off, legs and arms pumping, like he was running for his life. It was like some bizarre out-of-body experience, like seeing me running for my life a month ago.

  ‘Hey! Wait!’ I called after him.

  But he wouldn’t look back. He just kept running. I kept on after him, watching him try to duck and weave and lose me in the crowds, through narrow alleys and laneways. They were all the tricks I’d come to know so well.

  I was able to keep him in sight, almost all the way down to the harbour, but that’s where I lost him.

  It was hopeless. I just couldn’t keep up. My body was completely worn out. And he was fast—as fast as I used to be.

  I stopped, doubled over, trying to catch my breath, and trying desperately to make sense of what I’d just seen.

  320 days to go …

  I took a seat right down the back, choosing a computer with its screen facing the back wall, away from prying eyes, although the place was practically empty.

  I went straight to my blog. My shadowed profile pic appeared and I was reminded of the kid I’d seen at the courts yesterday. I was going crazy trying to work out why there was this guy running around the city who looked exactly the same as me. He must have been asking himself the exact same question.

  But I couldn’t waste any more time on that mystery just now—I had other important things to do.

  I had a lot of messages on my wall. Some of it was horrible—complete strangers calling me all sorts of names. Some were from people who said they wanted to join my gang.

  Like I was some sort of street gangster. Yesterday was Valentine’s Day? I hadn’t even noticed. At least it meant that I’d made it through the first half of the month.

  ‘You’re checking up on the psycho kid, are ya?’

  Startled, I turned around towards the voice that had interrupted me. It was the man who ran the place—a tall, lanky guy in his mid-forties. He must have been bored with the quiet day. I couldn’t blame him, but I wasn’t up for small talk. I hit the ‘close’ button fast.

  ‘Hey, I was just reading that,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, sorry, I have to get going,’ I mumbled.

  ‘He’s got some hide putting himself up on the web like that,’ the guy continued. ‘I read somewhere that psychopaths will do anything for attention. But boy, that kid must be an animal. Imagine your own brother doing that to you.’ He shook his head and then flicked a dead fly away from the keyboard beside me. ‘No wonder his mum’s lost the plot.’

  He looked down at me and frowned. ‘You come in here a bit, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, you’ve probably seen me here before,’ I lied. ‘I’m waiting on my dad to get my laptop fixed.’ I turned back to face the screen and reached down to grab my bag. I hadn’t been in there before. I had to get out of there before he worked out why I looked familiar.

  ‘You kids these days, you have it too easy. Gadgets, mobile phones, chat rooms, all kinds of information you can download in seconds, fancy cars the minute you can drive. You don’t have to work for anything,’ he said, looking around at his empty seats and idle screens. ‘Not like I had to. Too damn easy. You kids don’t know anything about how hard life really is.’

  Try living in a drain, pal, I longed to say.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ I said instead. And with that, I got up and left.

  319 days to go …

  Boges and I were meeting in a busy, noisy fast food place. We’d decided that it’d be safer than the drain, where two people caught lurking would surely mean questions and, ultimately, trouble.

  Plus, I was thinking that making Boges come to the St Johns dump was bad enough. I really didn’t want him to see the state of my latest living quarters.

  I’d noticed the man from the internet café who’d spoken to me yesterday, but I kept my head turned as he passed.

  Boges appeared, pulled out the opposite chair and plonked his tray down on the table. ‘So what ya got for me?’ he asked as he unloaded a couple of burgers, some chips and drinks.

  ‘I saw this guy who looks exactly like me,’ I said in a rush. I waited for him to sit down, then I leaned in closer. ‘I mean exactly like me. He was staring at me through the fence down at the Central Station basketball courts, and then as soon as I tried to talk to him, he bolted.’

  ‘I don’t blame him,’ said Boges. ‘If I didn’t know you, I’d run, too. Dude, you look feral.’

  I looked past my friend’s head and shoulders to the frosted glass behind him where I could see my reflection. I had to admit that I did look like the sort of guy that any normal person would run away from.

  ‘But Boges,’ I persisted, ‘I’m telling you, he was the spitting image of me. Exactly. The. Same,’ I said slowly to push the point. ‘And he was staring at me, like he knew me, or like he was wondering what I was wondering—why is there a guy in front of me who looks exactly the same as me?’

  ‘You mean he had a bad fake tat on his neck, a bunch of piercings and hair like a rat’s nest?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So he didn’t look exactly like you.’

  ‘He looked exactly like I used to look,’ I said impatiently. ‘It was crazy. I was completely freaked out. We both were.’

  Boges took a huge mouthful of his burger. ‘You know that they say that everyone has a double—a doppelganger—and it’s not a good sign if you run into yours …’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Let’s just say it means bad news. Maybe it’s just another of the mysteries of the city. I’ve been working on one of them—the DMO—’

  ‘The what?’ I asked.

  ‘The DMO,’ he repeated, pronouncing it like Dee-mo. ‘The Dangerous Mystery of the Ormonds.’ Boges grinned. ‘I found out more about the riddle of the Sphinx—it’s connected to a different sphinx to the one your dad drew.’

  The only one I knew of was the one he’d drawn—the Great Sphinx of Giza, in Egypt.

  ‘This other sphinx is very different,’ Boges continued, ‘she was some kind of psycho woman who was half lion. She had attitude—the sort of sphinx who stopped people passing by and asked them to solve a riddle, and if they didn’t get it right, she’d kill them. Strangle and devour them.’

  ‘OK, so what about the Roman guy? Where do you think he fits in?’

  Boges shrugged. ‘I’m still working on that. In History I asked Mr Addicot about whether there were any Roman connections with the Sphinx, and apparently Julius Caesar was involved in some business in Egypt around 48 BC.’

  ‘This is the Egyptian Sphinx you’re talking about now, right? Not cat-woman?’

  ‘Right. We’ve got to keep in mind that the drawings don’t actually mean exactly what’s in them—we’ve gotta learn how
to think like your dad did. Sort of diagonally. Sideways thinking.’ Boges demonstrated his point with his hands. ‘So, here’s what I reckon he was trying to tell us: this huge secret he was in the process of uncovering is something to do with history, a life-and-death riddle and someone in power—a king or a ruler, someone like Julius Caesar.’ He sat back. ‘And then there’s also something to do with a jewel—something you wear—that may or may not have been stolen from your dad’s suitcase, and a blackjack … or a 21 … It’s a bit lame, but it’s the best I can do right now.’

  I threw a chip at him. ‘Someone in power. That really narrows it down. There’s only been about a trillion kings and rulers in history.’

  Boges picked the chip off his shirt and ate it. ‘It could also just mean that your dad was stressing that discovering the truth about the Ormond Singularity was really important.’

  ‘That part I do get,’ I said, thinking again of the demented guy yelling out his warning on that hot December afternoon when it all began.

  I sighed. Dad was certainly hiding things well. Putting the ‘M’ into the DMO.

  ‘The only other thing we can do at this stage,’ said Boges, ‘is call that Eric guy from your dad’s work and see if he knows anything at all about this from his time in Ireland—without giving too much away, of course.’

  I took another bite of my fast-diminishing hamburger. ‘Yep, I’ll do that as soon as I can. Any luck on the words of the Ormond Riddle?’

  ‘No, nothing’s showing up.’

  Nothing was making enough sense to me to matter. And I couldn’t stop thinking about my double. It wasn’t a surprise that it meant bad news.

  ‘So what else has been happening?’ I asked. ‘Anything from school? Any special valentines from Maddy?’

  ‘No,’ Boges laughed. ‘Maybe next year … You never know. All the guys at school are wondering where you are and what’s happened to you. They’re always asking me.’

  It felt weird to know that everyone was talking about me.

  ‘Mr Addicot asked me more about you, too,’ said Boges, ‘like trying to suss out whether I knew anything about your whereabouts. I just played dumb.’ Boges grinned. ‘Believe me, my friend, playing dumb was hard. Very hard. Especially when I’ve been busting my brain applying for a scholarship to the robotics lab of the University of Pennsylvania.’

  ‘Pennsylvania, USA?’

  ‘Uh-huh. Their research lab’s been awarded millions of dollars in grants to develop robotic cockroaches.’

  I gave him a kick under the table. ‘Weren’t the cockroaches at my dump good enough for you?’

  ‘Hey!’ He kicked me back.

  Boges had finished eating his hamburger and was eyeing mine. ‘Hands off!’ I ordered. I pulled out my mobile phone and found the picture of the red-head I’d taken when I was perched up the tree.

  ‘This is who grabbed me off the street that night near Memorial Park,’ I said. ‘I tracked down the house they took me to. Somehow, we have to find out who she is.’

  Boges snatched the phone from me, his expression startled. ‘How did you take this?’

  ‘Through an open window. I was up a tree at the time. I tried to zoom in as much as I could, but, you know, this phone isn’t that great. And, anyway,’ I said impatiently, ‘who is it? You know her?’

  ‘This chick was on the news last night. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘So who is she?’ I asked, hoping to find out how I seemed to recognise her without actually seeing her.

  ‘You’re up a tree, taking photos of this woman through a window while I’m watching the exact same person on TV? Man that is weird!’

  TV? I was starting to get annoyed at Boges, stringing me along, and I was about to tell him so when he finally said, ‘This woman is none other than Oriana de la Force, “the flame-haired leading criminal lawyer in the city”, as the journalist on the news described her …’

  Criminal lawyer?

  ‘Is this the woman you think abducted you?’

  ‘You really know who it is?’

  He rolled his eyes at me. ‘I’m about ninety-nine percent sure it’s the same woman. I was watching this show last night, and the journalist said that Oriana—this woman,’ he said, shoving her picture in my face, ‘is notorious for taking on difficult and dangerous clients.’

  I must have recognised her distinct voice from seeing her on the news myself! ‘She’s difficult and dangerous!’ I said, with a half-laugh, thinking about the way she pushed me around and screamed at me the night I was abducted.

  ‘I saw it on TV last night—a current affairs program,’ continued Boges. ‘But, anyway, that wasn’t the first time I’d heard of her. Cal, anyone who takes an interest in what’s happening in the world, or at least in the city, would know about her.’

  It was true I didn’t take much notice of the news, although being on the run had changed that. Being part of the news, making headlines, had forced me to take an interest.

  ‘But why would a leading criminal lawyer become involved in a kidnapping?’

  ‘If you were going to commit a major crime, being a criminal lawyer would have to be a huge advantage, right?’

  ‘I guess it wouldn’t be the first time a criminal lawyer has given a new meaning to their title,’ I added.

  ‘Exactly, and a criminal lawyer would know all the traps, and Oriana would know better than anyone how to avoid them. So either she saw your photograph in the newspaper and wanted to adopt a lovely teen male just like you–’

  I glared at him.

  ‘Or,’ he continued, ‘she, herself, or a client of hers, is also after the Ormond secret. The DMO!’

  Oriana de la Force had made it very clear that the fortune Dad had hinted at in his letter to me was partly known to her. Too many people knew about it. Had he given too much away when he delivered his paper at the conference? The dangerous mystery of the Ormonds … How the hell was I supposed to compete against a brilliant lawyer like Oriana—a lawyer who would easily toss a kid off a cliff? And how could I stay alive when a criminal like Sligo, with all his wealth and underground connections, wanted me dead? I was just an ordinary kid! Well maybe not ordinary any more—but how was I going to win against these people? Luckily Oriana, at least, figured it was better to keep me alive. But for how long?

  ‘You know,’ said Boges, ‘I’ve never heard of anyone who’s had so many people after him—the cops, the infamous king of the underworld, a leading criminal lawyer—plus, and I know you hate hearing it, your own family think you’re some kind of monster. It’s messed up.’

  I looked up from checking the time on my phone to see Boges’s eyes huge in his frozen face. ‘Don’t move,’ he hissed through gritted teeth. ‘Don’t even think about turning round.’

  Without moving his lips, Boges muttered, ‘Your uncle and some other dude just sat down at the table behind you. Whatever you do, don’t turn around.’

  Rafe?! Frantic, I tried to think of a way through this. If Rafe spotted me, I was gone. Every instinct was saying run! I hunched down, trying to shrink.

  Boges had also hunched down, hand to his head, as if he was thinking deeply. If Rafe spotted him, I’d be next. I slid down further in my seat.

  The two men behind me were deep in conversation.

  ‘I’ve given the matter a lot of thought,’ I heard my uncle’s voice behind me, barely above a whisper. ‘It’ll give her a sense of security that she won’t have while ever the house is still in my name.’

  ‘Have you thought about the implications of this?’ said the other man. ‘How are you going to protect your own interests?’

  ‘It’s Win’s interests I’m thinking of.’

  Win’s interests. Rafe was talking about my mum!

  ‘If she knew she had the house in her name, it would be a great load off her mind. She already has a daughter in intensive care and a son … well, that kid hasn’t had it easy, but the less said about him the better. She’s in a terrible way. I’m willing to do anyth
ing to help her.’

  ‘But signing over the house,’ protested the other man, ‘that’s being too generous. You’re forgetting your own interests—your own security.’

  ‘Listen, I can’t expect you to understand. This is my brother’s wife, Tom’s wife and family we’re talking about. They’re all I have. They’re all I care about. I feel I have to do it.’

  ‘I can tell you’ve made up your mind, Rafe. Very well. Come around to my office tomorrow and we’ll do the paperwork.’

  ‘I know Tom would have done the same for me. I mean, if I’d been in a similar situation.’ There was a pause. ‘This coffee is undrinkable,’ he added.

  A moment later, I heard the scrape of the men’s chairs as they got up and left.

  I let out a huge breath. I hadn’t dared to breathe during that conversation. My mind was spinning. Rafe was signing over his mansion to my mum? I felt a mixed-up rush of gratitude and guilt.

  ‘That was way too close! Did you hear all that?’ I asked Boges when I could speak again.

  He nodded. ‘See? You’ve been way too hard on him, dude. His heart’s in the right place. He just has a seriously messed-up way of showing it.’

  ‘You were right,’ I said, almost numb with shock.

  Boges sat opposite me scratching his head like he was trying to put all the paranoid pieces together.

  He looked at me, waiting for me to say something.

  ‘I think,’ continued Boges, ‘he’s been trying to hold everything together—to deal with everything alone.’

  Just like me, I thought.

  There was no-one around as I slipped through the fence near the railway yards and made my way back towards the big stormwater culvert. The crickets stopped their chirping as I sneaked past them in the long grass.

  My mind was still whirling from seeing Rafe earlier. I felt such confusion and guilt in my stomach.

  I hurried down the sloping drain. I’d sleep here for a few more nights, I thought, and then go back to suss out the St Johns house.