October

by Gabrielle Lord

  I saw the two worry lines on Boges’s forehead flatten out and his eyes get rounder as he caught hold of the idea and ran with it. ‘Dude, it’s all possible! We can sneak pictures as well as audio so that we see and hear everything that goes on. Just so long as Winter stays in the room.’

  ‘Boges, that would be awesome.’

  ‘Cool. Let’s do it.’

  ‘Here,’ I said, surreptitiously peeling out some money from my gold stash in my backpack. I palmed it to him. ‘Winter’s locket,’ I said. ‘That might be the tricky part.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to deal with getting that off her, buddy.’

  Just a few metres away, Winter hung up her phone. She jogged back to us. ‘I have to bolt,’ she said. ‘Miss Sparks is already waiting for me at my place—I had to make our study session earlier.’

  ‘Hang on, please don’t tell me the banquet’s on tonight,’ I said, catching a frustrated look appearing on Boges’s face.

  ‘Sure is,’ she said, as she picked up her bag. ‘I told you it was last minute. I’ll call you in a couple of hours—Sparks will be gone by midday.’

  As soon as Winter disappeared down the stairs of the clock tower, Boges pulled out his mobile phone. ‘We’re going to have to move fast,’ he said to me. ‘Seriously fast.’

  We both looked at the screen of his phone as he logged on to a surveillance specialist’s website. Within a few minutes, we’d seen the range of pinhole camera lenses housed in front of tiny radio transmitters, capable of delivering sound.

  ‘I could make this even smaller—get rid of the housing and use Winter’s locket as the housing,’ said Boges, pointing to the screen where he’d zoomed in on the smallest of the range, ‘and then just drill a tiny hole in the front of it for the lens. I know a guy I can get this sort of gear from. I’d better go see him now and tell him what I need.’

  ‘Winter won’t like the idea of you drilling a hole in her locket.’

  ‘I’ll hide the wire by running it through the chain of the locket,’ Boges continued, taking no notice of what I’d just said, ‘then down the back of her neck under her gear. We tape the leads into the battery and tuck it into her waistband. I’ll direct the audio and video feed to my laptop, and then we sit in the next room—’

  ‘Whoa,’ I said. ‘It’s at Sligo’s place, remember? I don’t think we can sit in the next room.’

  ‘You have a point,’ he said, resigned. ‘That’d be dangerous.’

  ‘You don’t say. But we will need to set up somewhere close. We’ll be able to see and hear any plans they make. Catch any mention of the Riddle and the Jewel. We might find out who has them and if there’s a chance for us to snatch them back.’ I was beginning to feel hopeful again.

  ‘No way!’ yelled Winter, spinning around to face me. ‘You want me to wear a camera and microphone into that banquet? That’s insane! How am I going to explain that if I’m sprung? Tell Sligo I’m practising to be a reporter? Doing a project on journalism? Next they’ll be dragging me out of the oil tank!’

  ‘Let me explain,’ I said. ‘Boges can customise a really small spycam. Nobody will see anything. I’m talking micro.’ I pinched my thumb and forefinger together to make a minuscule space. ‘A tiny spycam and a tiny transmitter—so small they’ll fit inside your locket. We’ll only need to drill—’

  ‘Drill?’ Winter’s hand flew to her chest and she grasped the locket. ‘My locket? Forget it! You’re not touching this!’ Winter’s face wrinkled up in fury. ‘How could you, Cal?’

  ‘It was just an idea,’ I said, pulling out my mobile. ‘See? Look at the size of the lens on my mobile’s camera.’ I pointed it towards her. The lens winked like a small, black bead. ‘See what I mean? And the one we have in mind is even smaller.’

  Winter stormed away and plonked herself on the couch. She pulled her knees up, and turned her face away from me. I watched her as she held her locket and opened it, staring at the pictures of her parents inside.

  A memory of her face suddenly flashed into my mind—I recalled the way she had lovingly held the locket after I helped her get it back, in February. We were practically strangers then. We were friends now. How could I have asked her to damage something that meant so much to her? I’d need to find something else.

  I walked over to the dressing table. Hung over the mirror, together with a couple of scarves and a long rope of pearls, was a crystal necklace, a gold pendant on a chain and a string of chunky, brown wooden beads. I picked up the beads. They were about half the size of walnut shells, and seemed hollow.

  ‘They’ll work,’ said Winter, from behind me.

  ‘These wooden beads?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, taking the necklace from me, and placing it around her neck. ‘Yep, they’ll work,’ she said with conviction. ‘You’d better call Boges and tell him I’m in.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘We have to take risks for what we believe in. That’s what my mum and dad always told me.’

  Old leaves and bits of newspaper whirled around in the corners of the rooftop as I waited for Winter and Boges to turn up. Winter said she’d be back from Sligo’s at three, but was running late. She had gone there to gather as much information about the party as she could. Boges had managed to buy the spycam we needed from his contact, but was frantically trying to get his tools together and back to us in time to carry out the rest of our plan.

  Convinced my friends weren’t going to show up any time soon, I went back into Winter’s flat and parked myself in front of the TV. It flickered to life just as Winter flew through the door.

  ‘Sorry I’m late. Boges is right behind me,’ she said, holding the door open with her hip. Moments later Boges appeared, red-faced and sweaty. ‘It’s OK, guys,’ she continued, ‘the banquet’s not on until late—nine pm. We still have time. Quick, to the table.’

  Leaning over a bowl of pretzels, Winter began telling us everything she could about the night ahead.

  ‘Sligo is using the big downstairs living area for his banquet,’ she said. ‘He’s hired tables and dining chairs, which he’s set up all in a line. I offered to lay the tablecloths and arrange the flowers—that’s why I was so late—so I’m in his good books right now. The caterers have already begun preparations in the kitchen. He’s taking it very seriously. Remember how I told you about the New Year’s Eve Council Ball that he wants to host? I think he’s considering this as some sort of practice run. He wants me serving drinks outside in the gardens around the pool terrace from about eight thirty.’

  Boges nodded. ‘Any good suggestions as to where we can set up the observation post?’

  ‘I think the safest place would be the pool shed where the pool chemicals and garden tools are kept. It’s only new, so it’s pretty empty at the moment. It’s always locked but I can make sure it’s unlocked, and before the guests arrive, you guys could set up in there.’

  I looked at Boges and nodded. ‘Sounds good,’ I said. ‘Plus we’re not too far away from you, in case things get—well—messy.’

  ‘Let’s try not to think about that happening. I’m so nervous,’ said Winter, holding up her two hands in front of her. ‘Look, they’re shaking.’

  I grabbed both her hands with mine and they felt really cold. ‘You can do it,’ I told her.

  In less than half an hour, Winter’s small apartment had been turned into a technical workshop again. Boges’s tools were spread all over her table and an extension lead for his drill snaked along the floor.

  Winter and I watched as Boges used a tiny drill to bore through the back of the brown, hollow bead that hung in the centre of Winter’s necklace. He drilled an even smaller hole in the front, for the camera lens, then fitted the spycam and its minuscule microphone into the round space behind it.

  Next Boges threaded the wire through the existing holes in the beads on the necklace, concealing it almost completely.

  ‘There,’ said Winter as she fastened it around her neck. ‘How does it look?’


  ‘I can still just see the microphone wire,’ I said. ‘It needs to be invisible.’

  ‘You can see it because you’re looking for it,’ said Boges. ‘Winter, you’ll have to wear a jacket or something to cover the wire going down your back, and tuck the battery into your waistband. We’ll tape everything down, so nothing comes loose. When you’re ready we’ll give it a test run.’ Boges hoisted his laptop out of his backpack. ‘You flick that small button on top of the battery pack to activate the spycam.’

  Once Winter was ready for the test run, she disappeared through the front door, closing it behind her. Boges and I waited inside, tensely staring at his laptop screen.

  Suddenly the screen came to life. The world of the roof outside Winter’s flat appeared in grainy, monochrome grey on the screen. The familiar cityscape and timber flowerpots came into view, all moving as Winter moved, like images from a black-and-white film.

  ‘Cool!’ I said, patting Boges on the shoulder.

  ‘I hope you guys can hear me,’ Winter’s voice came through the built-in speakers on the laptop.

  Then she must have turned, because the camera jerked a little and panned around. Now, instead of the cityscape that we’d been looking at before, we saw wind chimes and her front door coming closer and closer with each step she took towards it. Then the door opened and we could see ourselves on the screen.

  ‘Could you hear me?’

  ‘Clear as crystal,’ I said, grinning.

  Boges stood up and carefully gave her a hug.

  ‘OK,’ she said, ‘now I’d better tell you guys how to get in.’

  My stomach was churning with nerves as I sat next to Boges, both of us dressed in black, on our way to Sligo’s. I’d called on Nelson Sharkey for help, and he agreed to drive us and provide us with a quick getaway. I was gritting my teeth and trying really hard not to think about what we were about to do. If I thought too much about the danger we were willingly putting ourselves in, I would have thrown up.

  ‘OK, guys,’ said Sharkey, slowing his car and pulling over a few hundred metres down the road from Sligo’s house. ‘This is as far as I want to go. I’ll be waiting here for you when you come out.’

  ‘If we make it out,’ said Boges.

  I looked through the window and saw that we were parked out the front of a vacant lot. It would probably be developed soon and turned into an almost-instant homestead like Sligo’s. Up on our right was the café Repro and I had met Winter in before we stole the Jewel from Sligo’s safe. Further up the street was empty of parked cars, which I hoped meant no visitors just yet.

  Boges and I climbed out in the twilight, carrying our backpacks behind us. We scurried along the street and disappeared down a lane at the rear of Sligo’s property. Winter had promised us that the security would be concentrating on the entrance of the house, leaving the backyard relatively unguarded.

  I spotted the gate that Winter had left open for us, and we darted in, closing it again behind us. The layout was just as she had described—ahead of us was the long, glistening pool, lit up by underwater spotlights, and it was surrounded by a sweeping terrace, lined with glowing bamboo lamps, that led to the house. There was movement inside, but from our position we couldn’t make out exactly who was there.

  A few steps from the back gate stood the pool shed, a solid construction of timber that matched the decking. The shed door was slightly ajar. We slipped inside, closing it quickly behind us.

  Boges turned to me and swore. ‘I can hardly breathe,’ he whispered. ‘What are we doing in here? This is Vulkan Sligo’s backyard!’

  ‘Too late to back out,’ I said. I was thinking exactly the same thing, but needed to keep it together. ‘We’d better set up.’

  A small window let in just enough light to see a stockpile of pool supplies stacked near one end of the shed. Other than that there was a leaf blower and a big pair of gardening clippers. That was it. We quickly rearranged some of the bags of salt to make a barricade for us to hide behind.

  Boges opened his laptop and we stared at the screen, waiting.

  Footsteps approached the pool shed.

  ‘Someone’s coming!’ Boges hissed in my ear. He quickly shut his laptop as we ducked down.

  The footsteps grew louder.

  The door of the pool shed opened. We both lay pressed against the floor, the stink of a chlorine-like substance filling my nostrils. I could feel Boges trembling. Or was it me?

  After a clattering sound the footsteps receded, the door banged shut again, and a few seconds later we could hear the leaf blower working outside.

  ‘Last minute tidying up for the guests,’ I whispered. We both remained frozen, knowing that the leaf blower would be returned to the shed shortly.

  After a few minutes the drone of the blower fell silent and we heard a voice shouting out from the house. I was sure it was Sligo. ‘Pour another bag of salt in the pool, while you’re at it!’

  Boges and I looked at each other in horror. Anyone coming in to drag one of the bags of salt we’d used to hide behind would find us.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Boges hissed, clearly starting to freak out. ‘What difference is a bag of salt going to make right now? The guy’s nuts!’

  The footsteps approached again.

  ‘We’ll just have to overpower him!’ I said. ‘We have the element of surprise on our side. We’ll jump him and tie him up! Cover his mouth with—’

  The door opened again and we flattened ourselves even further, but this time I was ready to pounce.

  Whoever it was stepped inside the shed and stowed the leaf blower away noisily. Then we heard a grunt, like the sound somebody makes when they sit down with relief.

  What was going on? The guy wasn’t moving. He sure wasn’t grabbing a bag of salt from the supplies. I took a long, silent breath and peered out.

  It was Bruno! And he wasn’t doing anything! He was just sitting there—taking a breather! Here, out of sight, he thought he could have a bit of a break from work!

  It might have been a relaxing moment for him but it sure wasn’t for me and Boges! With my face to the floor, stray grains of salt and dust were irritating my nose.

  Oh no! Not a sneeze coming on! I mustn’t sneeze! I pinched my nostrils, desperately trying to ward off the sneeze that was building in my sinuses. Boges glared at me, willing me to hold it back.

  It was like a scene in a bad movie—the sneeze was welling up and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Any second now, I’d sneeze and he’d be right on us. We’d be captured!

  The pool shed door was suddenly wrenched open. ‘Bruno, what are you doing in here?’ came Winter’s sweet, life-saving, voice. ‘The boss is looking for you! He’s not happy!’

  Bruno groaned again and hurried outside, slamming the door behind him. The sound of the door covered the sneeze that had finally, uncontrollably shot out of my mouth. I rolled over in relief.

  ‘Bruno is Red Singlet, right?’ said Boges. ‘I thought he was in jail!’

  ‘He should be! He must have some seriously good legal connections. Winter must have been watching the shed and came down to get rid of him.’

  ‘Just in time, dude. Just in time.’

  The noise from the terrace was increasing as more and more guests arrived. From the shed, Boges and I could hear scraps of conversation and the clinking of glasses.

  Once the guests moved inside the house, the yard became very quiet and we relaxed a bit.

  ‘Has she come online yet?’ I asked, impatiently looking at the screen. ‘She could be missing something important.’

  ‘She’ll switch it on once they’re all seated. Just wait.’

  The screen of Boges’s laptop remained empty.

  ‘Are you sure your program is OK?’ I asked him, anxiously. ‘Surely she should be coming through by now.’

  ‘Chill, dude. Everything is ready and waiting. All Winter has to do is flick the switch—’

  It was as if she’d heard Boges’s words
, because the screen suddenly lit up to reveal Sligo’s living room and his guests, milling around the long table that ran up the centre of the space.

  ‘There they are!’ I said. ‘We’re in!’

  Some of the guests were already sitting at the table, which was decorated with a huge bunch of red waratahs and white pillar candles in the centre, and lines of table napkins spreading like fans down either side. Others stood chatting in small circles.

  We could hear Winter’s voice, offering to pour more drinks or invite people to eat a canapé.

  ‘There’s Sligo!’ said Boges, as the hidden camera turned suddenly, revealing him seated at the head of the table. He was talking on his mobile while Bruno—with his hair slicked back and wearing a suit jacket over his red singlet—sprawled beside his boss, watchfully scanning the group.

  The camera moved closer to Sligo. ‘Winter’s doing really well,’ said Boges. ‘Moving nice and steadily. Giving us some nice close-up shots.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ I said as the camera approached Sligo’s other companion. ‘It’s Zombie Two! What if he recognises Winter from the car yard?’ The camera swerved away quickly, then returned to Zombie Two, as though Winter had done a double-take.

  We waited, tense and fearful, as we heard Winter offering him a drink. I watched his face intently on the screen, looking for any signs of recognition, but he barely looked up as he took a glass of red wine from her tray. I heaved a sigh of relief.

  Soon it seemed that everyone was seated and waiters appeared carrying steaming bowls of soup.

  ‘There she is,’ said Boges, indicating the intimidating presence of the criminal lawyer, Oriana de la Force, as she sat down a few seats away from Sligo. ‘Check out the hair!’

  Her red hair was swirled up like a big pile of spaghetti, and pinned down with some sort of feathery fascinator—like girls wear to the races—which almost looked like a bird had dive-bombed and crashed into her bun. We couldn’t see the colour of the dress, but I guessed it was purple—that seemed to be her favourite colour. It had a strange collar like a shelf that ran all the way around her shoulders.