‘Just like that?’ asked Pedro. ‘In those exact words?’
‘Yes, I am sure of it, because it was frozen on the screen for a while, it just wouldn’t go away, so I had time to memorise it,’ said Faye. ‘The only way to get rid of that window was to restart the computer. But then it happened all over again. I agreed with everything in the pop-up windows and when I got to that one, the same thing happened. Everything froze. I was stuck on that window. I had to start from scratch yet again.
‘But this time, I didn’t just tick all the boxes and agree to everything. When I got to that website, the one belonging to the university library, I saw that there was an email address on their contact page.’
‘Ah!’ said Pedro. ‘So?’
‘So I sent them a message explaining what had happened.’
‘And did they reply?’
‘Yeah, they did,’ said Faye. ‘Only not until the following day. Still, they did get back to me.’ She paused for a moment.
‘Go on,’ said Pedro.
‘Well, it wasn’t much help, actually. They said it had nothing to do with them.’
‘But there was more to it than that,’ Matt prompted her. ‘Remember what you said about how the library had this big campaign going on about the importance of reading?’
Faye nodded. ‘Yes, they told me about that, but they also said that this particular message that I’d got wasn’t part of it, as far as they knew.’
‘Apparently this reading initiative is pretty big,’ Matt added. ‘Lots of different institutions are involved in it. They said the message you saw must have been some mistake, maybe brought in through one of the other organisations, but nothing to do with them.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Faye. ‘They said they were dedicated to protecting the written word. They said they wanted more people to be involved in the project, that it’s the duty of us all, of the whole community. I have their email saved in my inbox. You can read it later if you like, or I could print it out for you.’
Matt said there was no need for her to print out the message, but he might come by her place later to read it and check a few details.
Faye smiled (she smiled!) and said yes, she thought that was a good idea.
Meanwhile, Sonia went back over the rest of the things Faye had told them.
‘The thing is, Pedro, the people from the university swore that they were not the ones who wrote that stuff. The two professors who signed the email said they would never use words like that. They were almost offended, saying that this kind of language was not part of their campaign, that they did not use emotional terms such as helping out, abandoning or betrayal. Which kind of makes sense. It’s not the way professors speak, is it? So that means –’
Faye cut in. ‘They said they must have been hacked by some student trying to be funny or someone trying to derail their project. They apologised for the aggressive tone and promised to take measures to solve the problem.’
‘This has to have been our hacker again,’ said Matt. ‘The Brainy Hacker, I mean.’
‘Our hacker? Whose hacker? We’ve got nothing to do with this stuff,’ protested Sonia.
Pedro disagreed. ‘I think we have to accept that this is “our” hacker, in a way, Sonia. Because he or she keeps talking to us all the time.’
Sonia didn’t argue.
‘But, listen,’ Pedro went on, ‘I think it might be a good idea to contact the university again and tell them the whole story. I mean, look, they have a lot of resources. They would be in a much better position to tackle this whole business than we could possibly be. They have much better security systems, for a start.’
‘Yeah, could be,’ said Sonia. ‘But look, on the other hand, they jumped to the conclusion that it was probably one of their students who was to blame for this.’
‘So?’ said Pedro.
‘Well, I think that means they are suspicious of young people. So they could easily start thinking it’s our fault. I think we should steer clear of these people, or we might end up in trouble.’
‘But they can investigate this stuff much better than we can,’ argued Pedro. ‘They can dig deeper.’
The others weren’t sure. They thought about it for a while.
Then Faye spoke up. ‘You have a point, Pedro, when you say that talking to the university people might be a good thing. They’re a large institution, as you say, and they must have a legal department as well as a really big IT department, all sorts of stuff. They really have a much better chance of solving this mystery than we have.’
Pedro smiled. At last, someone recognised how right he was.
‘But …’ Faye went on, ‘Sonia has a point too. The thing is, we don’t want people to start suspecting that we are responsible for this whole thing.’
‘So what do you suggest, Faye?’ asked Matt eagerly.
‘Well, I think the best thing would be to talk to Colin again. He’s a lawyer, remember, and we promised him we’d get back to him if there were any more developments.’
So they had.
‘So I think the best thing is to let Colin deal with it for us. Then we won’t have anything to worry about – that’s what the law is for, isn’t it? To defend the citizens and make sure that everybody in society is respected. I mean, look, suppose you have a case of domestic violence, for example. If all you could depend on was some random police officer who got called in to the case, the woman might end up completely defenceless. If there were no …’
Her friends were speechless. This really didn’t seem like the Faye they had known for all these years, launching into a speech like that on the value of the law and the importance of justice. She usually came across as so ditzy. And yet, they all knew in their hearts that there was more to Faye than she let on. Something had given her the courage to speak up, clearly and fluently and confidently.
Matt, of course, was completely enthralled. Faye was more beautiful than ever when she was like this, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of what she was saying,
Sonia was about to make a joke about Faye’s oratorical skills, when Pedro cut in quickly to bring them back to the subject.
‘Great idea, Faye! I think we can all agree on this. We should definitely talk to Colin. Right, everyone?’
The others all nodded.
‘But we can’t really get in touch with him until Monday, so just for now, let’s see if we can think our way through this a bit more.’
They all looked at him expectantly.
‘As I see it,’ Pedro continued, ‘our hacker has made an important move here. He’s made a much more daring approach, using a much bigger, more powerful website, with a higher risk of leaving a trail. He’s taking a bigger risk to get close to us.’
Well, that seemed to make sense. But did it get them anywhere?
‘And by the way,’ Pedro went on, ‘I have something else to tell you. Robbie told me something earlier today that also suggests that the Brainy Hacker is making new moves. But one thing at a time. Remind me to tell you later, when we’ve finished discussing this thing of Faye’s.’
He turned to Matt then and asked, ‘What do you think, Matt?’
‘I agree. I mean, I agree with what you said just now and also with Faye’s idea about talking to Colin when we get a chance. But I also want to say that I think this whole story confirms what I’ve been saying for a while: this guy is somebody who’s in trouble and wants us to help him.’
‘That’s right!’ said Sonia. ‘You have been saying that all along, Matt, and you are right. But now we know what he wants.’
Everyone turned to listen to Sonia. She was saying what they had all known all along, in a way, but hadn’t quite put into words.
‘What he’s been begging us to do all the time is not to stop reading.’
That was true, but it seemed such a weird request.
‘But why?’
Faye’s question was left unanswered, because just at that moment, Sonia’s mother came to offer them some
lunch.
‘I didn’t know you were all coming – Sonia never said. But I have got together a nice lunch of black beans and rice, and manioc flour with eggs. A delicious feijoada for everybody. And some salad.’
Apart from Faye, who was always keen to eat healthily, nobody was too interested in the salad part. But they were very hungry. So the discussion was immediately interrupted and they all went to lunch.
12 – Gregorio Alvarenga’s Dedication
It wasn’t until they were eating ice cream for dessert that Sonia remembered to ask Pedro. ‘Didn’t you say you had something new to tell us? Something about Robbie? What is it?’
Pedro swallowed his last spoonful, took a sip of water and then told them about the conversation he had had with Robbie on the bus. He even sang the bits he could recall from the mysterious rap song Robbie had received from some anonymous contestant.
‘So you think the Brainy Hacker is playing the part of a rapper now?’ asked Sonia sceptically.
‘I think it has to be him again,’ said Matt. ‘There’s something familiar about this – it’s the same method of communication, the way all those other messages popped up unexpectedly on computers.’
‘Or on a mobile phone,’ added Faye.
‘Yes, but that’s much the same thing. A mobile and a computer both use chips. They are both communications devices, and they are both capable of being intercepted in this way.’
‘Yeah,’ said Sonia. ‘I suppose.’
‘I think this has to be our man again,’ said Matt. ‘We shouldn’t ignore any leads at this point. Pedro’s right. This is really urgent.’
Sonia was starting to feel drowsy after the good lunch they’d just had. ‘Urgent?’ she asked lazily. ‘Why?’
‘Because today is Saturday!’ said Pedro and Matt in unison.
The girls burst out laughing, remembering a poem they had all learnt at school, where ‘Because today is Saturday’ was the refrain.
Pedro explained what he meant. ‘I’m not sure if you are all fans of Robbie’s Saturday radio show? It’s really good, actually, and a lot of people listen to it. Anyway, he spends all Saturday afternoon at the radio station, doing the show live. I told him I’d meet him there after the programme to talk some more about this thing that’s happened. But now it occurs to me, what if our hacker friend tries to make contact again? And what if it happens today? If it does, I want to be there. Remember how Colin said we should try to respond to any of these messages if we get a chance?’
‘So now you can see what he means by saying it’s urgent,’ Matt said.
‘It’s dead urgent,’ said Pedro. ‘In fact, I think I’d better not wait till the end of the programme. I’m heading over there now, before it starts, to make sure I’m there if anything happens.’
‘Great idea!’ said Matt. ‘We’ll all go!’
A few minutes later, all four of them were on a bus on the way to the radio station. They arrived just a little after the programme had started.
As they went past reception, they could hear Robbie’s voice coming through the speakers. He had just finished presenting the first item, an interview with a community leader about a group of sewing-machine operators who had formed a cooperative to participate in a fashion event. After a short jingle, Robbie announced, ‘Now, don’t change the station, it’s time for a dedication!’
That was how he always announced the part of the programme in which people phoned in to dedicate a song to someone. After the introductory sentence, Robbie played the little jingle again and then said, loud and clear: ‘And now, Gregorio Alvarenga dedicates this song to Pedro, Sonia, Faye, Matthew and William.’
The four friends exchanged surprised glances. ‘That’s us!’
It was startling to hear their names being announced in Robbie’s voice – Robert Freitas, the famous broadcaster – and to hear that someone was dedicating a song to them on the radio, just at the very moment they were all – except for Will – walking into the building. As the first chords of the song started playing, it dawned on them that not only was this a coincidence, it was also a mystery.
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘Do you know anyone named Gregorio Alvarenga?’
‘Not me!’
They were still heading for the studio. Pedro knew his way around the radio station, and the staff knew him too. He and Matt had often been there to meet Robbie, so nobody bothered them. As they walked, this was the song that was playing: ‘I was born about ten thousand years ago …’
‘Oh, no!’ cried Matt, the first to realise what was going on. ‘It’s our hacker. The guy is sending us a musical message! He’s finally decided to tell us who he is.’
‘Gregorio Alvarenga? Gregorio Alvarenga?’ repeated Pedro. ‘Where does that name come from? Reminds me of something. A poet, maybe?’
‘But this is a real song, it exists,’ said Sonia. ‘I’ve heard it. My dad has that album.’
As they arrived at the studio door, they all stopped. A red light was turned on over the door.
‘We can’t go in,’ said Matt. ‘The light’s on. He’s on air. We’ll have to wait outside.’
That was disappointing. They were going to have to hang around, either in the corridor or in a little room next door, where there were a few chairs. They could sit and listen to the rest of the programme while they waited to talk to Robbie. But Pedro didn’t want to sit around waiting.
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m going in.’
‘What about the red light?’ said Matt. ‘You can’t go in. You’ll be in the way.’
‘He’s on air, but he’s not talking right now. It’s just music. I’ve seen a technician going in and out more than once. I won’t disturb anyone. Robbie is in the isolation booth. I’m going in. If anyone else wants to come, do it now.’
Faye hardly had time to wonder what an isolation booth could mean. She pictured something like a solitary confinement cell in a jail. It didn’t seem very likely that Robbie would be stuck in one of those. Pedro put his finger to his lips for silence, and already he was opening the heavy door. Sonia stuck close to him and slipped in with him. Matt was following the other two, and Faye, who didn’t want to be left alone outside, grabbed Matt’s hand.
This almost ruined everything. Matt got such a shock at the touch of her hand that he stood paralysed for a second, unable to move forward. Through the half-open door, Faye could see Pedro and Sonia already inside, and beside them was a console covered in buttons and switches. The console was being operated by a technician, who was facing a glass wall that separated him from a cubicle. That must be what they called the isolation booth, Faye figured, because on the other side of the glass wall Robbie was sitting at a desk, wearing headphones. In front of him was a microphone and a lot of scattered sheets of paper.
The technician turned to them and immediately started telling them off.
‘Hey! You can’t come in here! Close that door!’
From the other side of his glass wall, Robbie had seen them and waved hello. Then he closed his fist and gave a thumbs-up, indicating to the technician that it was alright, they could stay. The guy went on grumbling, complaining, making hand signals and pointing at the door.
All this time, Matt didn’t budge. He just stood there, holding Faye’s hand and feeling his heart going thump-thump-thump, beating louder than the sound of the programme that was on air. Surely the whole neighbourhood could hear it, banging away at who-knew-what decibel level.
Faye put her mouth close to his ear and whispered, ‘Go on! Get inside!’
Matt stumbled in, feeling dizzy, not letting go of her hand. If it were up to him, he would keep hold of this little hand for ever. Faye, using her left hand to push back the heavy door they had entered, seemed to have forgotten that the fingers of her right hand were still wrapped around his.
Meanwhile the technician was giving a list of instructions.
‘OK, watch it now. Keep quiet. He’s going on ai
r.’
He pressed a little button and talked into a microphone so Robbie could hear him inside his booth.
‘Ten seconds.’
Robbie cleared his throat, while the technician turned a huge button on the console and slowly turned down the volume of the music, bringing the song to an end.
Then Robbie announced, ‘Gregorio Alvarenga has just dedicated “I Was Born About Ten Thousand Years Ago” to his friends. And here he is, to talk to us briefly …
‘He’s here?’
Sonia was alarmed. She expected the guy would just walk right into the studio, in the flesh. She wasn’t used to listening to Robbie’s show and didn’t know he often chatted on the phone with a person who was dedicating a song.
‘Good afternoon, Gregorio. How are you?’
The answer was in a metallic voice, coming from one of the big speakers.
‘Never been better, Robert.’
It was in sharp contrast to Robbie’s voice, which was full, warm and articulate, like a professional broadcaster.
‘Very good, Gregorio. And where are you from? Where do you live?’
‘Oh, one day here, one day there …’ answered the voice. ‘I am of no fixed abode.’
While the friends listened to this in surprise, Pedro picked up a pen from the table and started writing something on a sheet of paper in big bold letters, easy to read from the other side of the glass.
The conversation continued: ‘Yet another listener with housing problems, my friends … And what do you do for a living?’
‘I’ve been doing a bit of everything throughout these lives …’ was the answer.
These lives? Sonia and Faye exchanged glances. Pedro had just finished writing and raised the sheet of paper to show Robbie. Matt was still hypnotised by Faye’s hand in his own, as if he were frozen. Or as if they were not even there.
From the other side of the glass, the broadcaster Robert Freitas read Pedro’s message: ‘ASK IF THAT’S REALLY HIS NAME.’
Robbie was well used to improvising. Now he said, ‘We have here with us our listener of the day, Gregorio … I’m sorry, Gregorio. Could you please repeat your name for us?’
The History Mystery Page 9