November

by Gabrielle Lord

  There was somewhere I was supposed to be … someone I was supposed to see …

  Eric Blair!

  I jumped up so hard I banged my head on the roof of the treehouse. I’d stood him up!

  I pulled my mobile out and dialled his number. It went straight to voicemail.

  ‘Eric, er, it’s me. I’m so sorry I didn’t show up for our meeting,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe I missed it. I was on my way when—’

  ‘Hello? Cal?’ said Eric, suddenly picking up the phone.

  ‘Eric! Please tell me you’ll meet me another time? I won’t mess up again, I swear.’

  ‘I know it can’t be easy for a fugitive to keep his appointments, but I have to admit, I’m apprehensive about giving it another go. The police called a news briefing this morning with all the leading journos of the city. If you thought the arrest of Oriana de la Force was going to take the heat off you, you’re going to have to think again. It seems to have only fuelled the fire.’

  I swore.

  ‘Senior Sergeant McGrath told us again how seriously the force is committed to your capture,’ Eric continued, ‘especially with a huge international security convention being held in the Harbour next month. McGrath’s created a new strike force—Predator. He’s furious about being thwarted by a sixteen-year-old kid. Colleagues are making jokes. Imagine what the international agents will think. The newspaper cartoonists are having a field day. Now they’re going to have teams of volunteers as well as cops reviewing all the public closed-circuit cameras on a daily basis. They’re gunning for you. More than ever.’

  ‘Sounds like I need your help, more than ever. Please say you’ll meet me. I’ll make it quick, I promise. I won’t bring any trouble to you. Can we try again?’

  It took some convincing, but Eric finally agreed to another meeting. He told me it was my last shot—that he was too concerned about being caught with me. I wasn’t going to let that be a problem.

  44 days to go …

  Boges hissed my name and I threw him the rope.

  Soon his figure appeared at the window and he squeezed his way through, dropping down opposite me.

  ‘Dude, what is it? What’s happened?’

  I told him about my run-in with Ezekiel and how I’d been hauled into Toecutter’s bedroom for his confession. I also told him how my mum had reacted, and about Rafe’s mysterious message, cut short on the phone.

  I handed Boges the yellowing newspaper clipping.

  Boges read it in a few moments, then looked up in disbelief.

  ‘You and your brother were kidnapped by Toecutter? Ryan Spencer is Samuel, your twin brother? I can’t get my head around this!’ Boges sat there, staring at me. ‘All these years of knowing you, and I didn’t know anything about this!’ Boges’s eyebrows were up at his hairline, and his round face was shocked and concerned.

  ‘Neither did I! It’s like I’ve tripped over and fallen into a parallel universe. The life I’ve known is not my real life. Everything’s been kept a secret from me, to protect me from the memory.’

  ‘So it happened in Kenthurst—you must have lived there before Richmond. Your parents must have moved to escape the attention from the tragedy. That must be why no-one who lives near you has ever mentioned this massive crime happening to you guys. If only everyone knew who you were! But who ordered the kidnapping?’ Boges asked. ‘Who paid Toecutter to wipe out you and your brother?’

  ‘He didn’t say. Maybe I’ll never find out.’ I paused. ‘He never got paid for it, anyway. He never finished the job.’

  ‘Griff Kirby must be working for him now. He’s moved up in the world pretty fast. Gone from petty crime to the big time. He could be the next Toecutter. Wow,’ said Boges, shaking his head. ‘This is nuts! I can’t believe you really have a twin!’

  ‘Believe it. I’m going to have to tell Ryan about it some day soon. He deserves to know the truth, too.’ I thought about the new strike force out to get me. ‘I hope you never regret this, Boges,’ I said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If I don’t clear my name, and the cops find out about your association with me, that could totally finish off any dreams you have of an internship with NASA. It could blow your education.’

  Boges looked serious. ‘Then we’ve got our work cut out for us, don’t we? Now,’ he said looking around, lifting his camera out of his bag, ‘where’s the best place to set up the passport photo shoot?’

  I grabbed the contact lens case Winter had given me, and jumped out of the tree to go wash my hands at the tap. After a lot of trouble, I finally got the slippery suckers into my eyes. Blinking, I looked up at Boges.

  Boges blinked back. ‘They make you look really weird. So different. Come up here and I’ll take the pic in front of the curtains.’

  After he’d taken a few, I peered over his shoulder at my image on the screen of his camera. The guy who stared back at me wasn’t me.

  ‘These will do. I’ll fix them up a bit on my computer, then I’d better give them to Sharkey. So tell me,’ he said, sitting back down again, ‘what do you think Rafe wants to talk to you about?’

  ‘No idea. But he was right about me feeling unsure of him.’

  ‘One person I think you should speak to is Rathbone,’ he said. ‘We have to make him talk, and tell us who the nicknames belong to.’

  ‘He won’t do it—not without a lot of pressure.’

  ‘Pressure is what we have. We still have the photos of him with his dirty money,’ he reminded me. ‘It worked once, it can work again. You don’t have a problem with breaking a promise to a criminal, do you?’

  ‘I guess not,’ I said. ‘But what will make him trust us this time? What will make him give anything to us when we could just go back on our word again, and bribe him with the photos for something else?’

  ‘Dude, he can’t take the risk of those photos getting out. He’s up to no good, and I’m pretty sure he won’t want to jeopardise that extra income he’s been generating on the sly.’

  I snuck out to go to the local library, careful to avoid the Lovetts on my way. It seemed Luke’s parents were having a bit of a clean-up in the yard. I made sure my cash-loaded backpack was strapped on tight, and hoped they’d steer clear of the treehouse.

  I jumped on the library’s online newspaper files, and looked up Kenthurst and the date of the abduction.

  I pushed my chair away from the monitor. This wasn’t the Rafe I knew. For as long as I could remember he and dad were almost strangers. They weren’t each other’s shadow. Was he just playing the media? Or had the tragedy changed him?

  Even with my dark brown contacts, I avoided looking anyone in the eye as I made my way back down to the docks, to Eric Blair’s personal office.

  I didn’t feel as anxious about this meeting as I did last time, but I was still carefully scoping the scene, making sure I wasn’t about to be sprung by the cops, or some other thug.

  Eric’s office was located in a modern building with the foyer opening directly onto the footpath. I strolled on in and up the stairs to the second floor. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door marked number seven.

  ‘Come in,’ he called.

  I took another deep breath and walked in.

  I’d stepped into a small office with one window overlooking the water. A vase of bright yellow daisies sat on his relatively empty desk. Eric stood up from behind the desk as I tentatively approached him, offering him my hand.

  ‘Good to finally meet you,’ I said.

  ‘And you too, son,’ he said, shaking my hand. His smile was warm and friendly, but I suddenly felt uneasy.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  I dropped his hand.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked, his eyes alarmed at my retreat.

  I recognised the confusion and worry in his eyes and backed away faster, reaching behind me for the door.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  He stepped towards me.

  ‘Get away from me,’ I growled
.

  ‘Cal, what’s the problem? You’re safe in here. Why the sudden change of heart?’

  ‘I said, get away from me.’

  I was dizzy. Flashbacks from that hot December afternoon, New Year’s Eve, fired into my mind.

  ‘You!’ I shouted, unable to control my voice. ‘It was you! You were the crazy guy that chased me down my street last year! You were the one who told me I had 365 days to survive, that they killed my father, that they’d kill me too!’

  ‘What? Cal—’

  ‘I can’t believe it! After all this time! This 365-day countdown began with you!’

  Although he looked different, I could still see the wildness in his eyes.

  Eric’s face was a mixture of concern and bewilderment.

  ‘Cal,’ he said, ‘what are you talking about? I’ve never met you before in my life! 365 days?’ he murmured to himself. ‘365 days?’ he repeated.

  I wrenched the door open and took off.

  ‘Cal! Come back!’ Eric yelled down the corridor. ‘What do you mean? 365 days? Please, come back! Help me understand! Don’t run away like this!’

  I was down the stairs and back out on the street when I realised Eric was coming after me. I turned back and his image instantly merged into that of the staggering sick man who had already chased me once.

  ‘I want to help you! You have nothing to fear from me,’ he shouted. ‘Tom was my friend!’

  All of a sudden my body just stopped running. My mind was sending me danger signals, but my heart told me to turn around and hear him out.

  Blair bent over—puffed out, helpless and completely harmless. As he stood upright again, I thought I could see tears in his eyes.

  ‘365 days,’ he repeated, yet again. ‘I don’t know why, but for some reason that is strangely familiar to me. But why?’ he said in a barely audible voice, as though he was thinking aloud.

  ‘That’s because you were the one who said it to me. You told me my dad had been murdered and that I would be too if I didn’t hide out for 365 days. It’s been haunting me ever since. My life took a dive-bomb almost instantly.’

  ‘Please, come back to the office. Let’s sit down and get to the bottom of this.’

  ‘Sit down, Cal. Here,’ he said, pulling out a chair. He was frowning, straining to remember a scene that he had starred in—one I remembered with all its vivid terror.

  ‘You really don’t remember staggering along the street near my house, yelling out my name? Warning me about the Ormond Singularity?’

  ‘The Ormond Singularity,’ he muttered, ominously.

  ‘Last year, on New Year’s Eve? You don’t remember the paramedics who came after you and carted you off in an ambulance?’

  ‘I was sick then …’ he said, trying so hard to make sense of this. The expression on his face slowly transformed from confusion into a steadier gaze, as if he’d managed to pin something down in his memory. ‘The Ormond Singularity, the Ormond Singularity,’ he chanted. ‘I think I remember hearing that phrase now. There was something called the Ormond Singularity … something to do with Tom.’

  Eric was nodding now.

  ‘Yes, keep trying to remember,’ I urged.

  ‘In Ireland, Tom was very close … close to discovering what it was.’

  At the mention of Ireland, hope was returning.

  ‘Mr Blair, why do you think everything is so blurry? What was wrong with you?’

  ‘I get flashes,’ he said, ‘like the jagged reflections you might get in a shattered mirror, but mostly it’s a blur. I was with your Dad in Ireland when I fell ill. We both did. It was near the end of our trip, but for some reason I don’t remember any of the trip clearly. I had some awful viral infection in my brain and spent a long time in hospital.’

  ‘You told me my dad was killed.’

  ‘Killed?’ Eric Blair rested his head in his hands. He looked really pale. ‘This has all come as a huge shock to me,’ he said. ‘I was anxious about meeting you, but I had no idea this was coming. I’m going to need some time to digest it all.’

  My mobile rang. It was Nelson Sharkey. ‘Excuse me,’ I said to Eric, before taking the call.

  ‘Everything is ready to go,’ said Sharkey. ‘All we need now is the money. Can you meet me at the gym in an hour?’

  ‘I’m on my way,’ I said.

  Blair was still shell-shocked, behind his desk. ‘I have to go, Mr Blair, but can you please call me as soon as anything comes back to you?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course. I’m sorry I scared you. I don’t know what else to say right now.’

  ‘That’s OK. Let’s talk again soon.’

  ‘We just have to trust the forger,’ said Sharkey, quickly counting the money. ‘As much as I don’t really want to deal with him—it means I’m tiptoeing on the wrong side of the law, and I’ve avoided that for all of my career—he has a good reputation. I don’t think he’ll give us any trouble.’

  He’s a criminal, I thought. I was dealing with a forger—a specialist in deceit—but I had no choice. I had to part with the money and hope he’d come through.

  Sharkey must have suspected the doubt that was going through my mind. ‘It’s not in his interest to doublecross a customer,’ he said. ‘People would stop dealing with him if he did that. Even a forger needs a good business reputation. I’ll call you again as soon as the job is done.’

  42 days to go …

  The three of us sat on the beach. Winter was making lines in the sand with her toe. We were wearing wide-brimmed hats to cover us from the sun, but also to stop any unwanted attention coming our way.

  Boges, who was never a huge fan of the beach, was lying back, watching people come and go around us. Down near the water, little kids played, building sandcastles, running from the waves and picking up shells, while seagulls swooped over the brilliant blue sea.

  ‘We have to put pressure on Rathbone,’ said Boges, ‘and force him to tell us who those other nicknames belong to. You got on really well with his assistant, Dorothy, didn’t you, Winter? Cal said you two were talking up a storm while he was hiding under Rathbone’s desk.’

  ‘I can’t risk Rathbone seeing me,’ she replied. She reached into her bag for some sunscreen. ‘Not after Sligo’s banquet. He could recognise me.’

  ‘No, we don’t want that happening,’ I said.

  ‘I can call Dorothy,’ said Winter. ‘See if I can squeeze any handy info out of her. Who knows what she could tell me.’

  She stood up and brushed sand off her legs.

  ‘No time like the present,’ she exclaimed, pulling out her phone. ‘I think Dorothy’s there until twelve on Saturdays.’

  Winter shook some more sand from her hands, then made the call. She wandered away to a quieter spot.

  I watched her. The girl had everything—brains, beauty and courage.

  Boges and I waited expectantly as she finally returned. The minute I saw her face, I knew something was wrong.

  ‘Wasn’t Dorothy there?’

  Winter plonked herself back down on the towel beside us. ‘Man, that woman can talk,’ she said. ‘She was there—that wasn’t the problem. Rathbone’s gone.’ Her forehead gathered in a worried frown. ‘She says the office is all quiet again because he’s flown to London.’

  ‘For how long?’ I asked.

  ‘She wasn’t sure exactly. Said he left in a bit of a rush. A couple of weeks, maybe. But she did say that after that, he’s flying to Dublin. Ireland.’

  ‘Damn it,’ I swore. ‘The Gordian knot.’ I jumped to my feet. ‘He’s going to cut the rope and go straight to wherever the Ormond Singularity is! That’s why he must have thrown out the list of remaining nicknames.’

  Both of my friends looked at me, confused.

  ‘He must have given up on trying to find the Jewel and the Riddle, and decided to just dive right in and go looking for the Ormond Singularity. Right to the heart of the matter—Ireland!’

  ‘Don’t freak out just yet,’ said Winter. ‘He does
n’t know everything we know. He’s behind. He’s not going to know where to start.’

  ‘He’ll talk to other people in Ireland. Someone like Rathbone will have plenty of legal contacts who could be equipped to give him much more information than we have! Remember he’s been gathering information on my family for years! He’s seen the Piers Ormond letters and he knows the contents of the will. He knows time is ticking down.’

  I ripped my hat off and ran my hands through my hair in pure frustration.

  ‘After all this time, trying to make sense of the Singularity,’ I said, ‘I am not about to let someone like Sheldrake Rathbone beat me to it.’

  38 days to go …

  I was on my way back to Eric Blair’s office. He’d called me late last night, asking me to come down to meet him this morning. I could hardly sleep after speaking to him, waiting anxiously for the time to come, and hoping for his memory to have returned.

  ‘Cal,’ he said, when I walked into his office and eased my backpack off. ‘I know you’re desperate to clear your name and get some answers, but I’m afraid I’m going to be a disappointment to you. Ever since our meeting I’ve been racking my brain, trying to dig deep and piece my memory back together, but it’s like driving through impossibly thick fog. I have to keep pulling over.’

  My shoulders instantly slumped.

  ‘I do recall, though, that Tom told me you were in great danger—you were all in great danger—and then he got sick. Not long after that, I fell ill too. I do, however, feel quite strongly that he wanted me to get the message to you. Perhaps that’s why I—’

  ‘Chased me down, New Year’s Eve.’

  Eric leaned against the desk, his face serious and concerned.

  ‘Yes, but I still don’t remember it. I don’t know why I said the things I said.’ He took a deep breath and continued. ‘I feel like Tom had uncovered something in Ireland. Not to do with the conference, necessarily, but more to do with your family. I think he knew it had the capacity to attract the forces of evil. I don’t know why, but I feel like the Queen had something to do with it.’