There were some muffled sounds for a couple of minutes, which ended with the slamming of the car boot. Then the engine started, and the car drove away.
I crept out of the closet and back to my surveillance position behind the drapes. I watched as Sammy’s white station wagon drove onto the street. I was alone again.
The house phone rang and I snatched it up.
‘Boges?’
‘Cal, what if that wasn’t me ringing?!’
‘You wanted me to answer it, didn’t you? Anyway, I don’t know what you said to him, but he’s gone. He just left. He sounded annoyed.’
‘I know. I told him I had a message from the owners that I’d completely forgotten to give him. I said they didn’t want the cleaning done yet because they had a relative arriving to stay a few nights while in town for a conference. I said they wanted him to clean the place after their guest had left.’
‘How did you come up with that?’ I said, impressed with my friend’s endless quick thinking.
‘I don’t even know!’ Boges laughed. ‘I rang him as soon as I got off the phone from you and made it up as I went along! He wasn’t happy. With me or the owners of the house! Anyway, you’re in the clear there for at least another six nights. Promise I’ll give you the heads-up next time my uncle’s on his way.’
I quickly gave Boges the run-down on everything that had happened since stealing the Jewel from Sligo.
‘Can’t wait to see it,’ said Boges. ‘Now that we have both parts of the double-key code maybe we can make sense of all the drawings.’ I hoped he was right. ‘We’ve gotta meet up, but people know I’m a link to you and I’ve gotta be way careful. Wherever I go these days, I feel like someone’s watching me. I’ve seen Bruno a couple of times, and Zombie—Zombrovski—driving past, pretending to ignore me. They still haven’t worked out my backyard escape route, although I had to do some more fast-talking the other day—my neighbour found me running across her yard. She started shouting at me, but I’d thrown a tennis ball into her bushes a little while ago, in case she ever found me, and I pretended I’d jumped the fence to get it back.’ Boges stopped to laugh. ‘I’m becoming a master of lying to get myself outta trouble!’
‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ I said, feeling a bit guilty about the life I’d forced my friend into. ‘So when can we meet?’ I was trying to think of a safe place, somewhere other than here at the mansion. ‘Somewhere like the cinemas? Even if you’re followed,’ I continued, ‘whoever is on your tail could think you’re really just going to the movies, not meeting me. But if they do spot us together, it’ll be easier to shake them off there.’
‘OK, that could work.’
‘How about tomorrow at the shops, downstairs at the cinema complex?’
‘Can’t get out until next week. How about Wednesday? After school? I’m too busy this weekend with family stuff, and then assignments. Plus I have that internship application to finish. It’s making me tear my hair out.’
‘Could be an improvement,’ I joked. ‘Wednesday it is.’
‘Cool,’ he said, ignoring my comment about his hair. ‘Let’s make it four o’clock. In the meantime, I’ll to have to figure out a way to delete the record of these calls we’ve made. And if I need to call you before Wednesday, I’ll call the house phone for two short rings, and then one long. Answer it on the third, OK?’
‘Deal. Make sure your uncle doesn’t come back any time soon, will ya?’
I pulled the heavy drapes closed and watched the news on the TV near the kitchen. After a few international stories, a familiar shopfront appeared on the screen—Mike’s Seafood. A senior officer stood outside, surrounded by a crowd of journalists with microphones. Questions were being thrown at him from all angles, but he ignored them. All he said was, ‘We are confident we will catch Ormond very soon.’
Not if I had any say in the matter.
Then, as I expected, the grainy photo of me, deep in the freezer room, came up on the screen. Three-O, the dirty rat, had handed in the picture he took of me before locking me up. The next shot that came up was of the blasted freezer room door, and a cop holding up what was left of one of the track detonators. The camera panned back to the crowd outside the fish shop and I saw the rat standing next to Mike amongst the hungry journalists, all scavenging for a piece of the story.
Luckily the photo Three-O had taken was pretty bad and my face wasn’t very clear. I was relieved he’d failed to get the cops there in time to cuff me, but I was just as relieved he didn’t get the reward money out of it. Still, he had a hundred thousand reasons for trying to track me down to finish what he’d started.
I sat for ages, staring at the crashing waves. I was trying to put everything out of my mind, so I started wandering around the house, looking for a distraction.
No-one would believe I was hiding out in a seven-bedroom, five-bathroom mansion, filled with fancy furniture and rugs, elaborate chandeliers and glass sculptures, huge paintings that were probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars … There was even a theatre room with three raised rows of rich red, cinema-style recliner chairs in front of a huge movie screen. I was almost completely out of money, my clothes were getting shabbier with every day, I was a hunted fugitive and yet, thanks to Boges, I was sitting in a house fit for a prince.
I had to take advantage of it.
I paid really careful attention to everything I did, so that I could leave the room exactly as it was before I entered it. Then I plonked myself down on a recliner, front row, centre.
I’d picked out a movie from the collection that made me think of Winter—Bonnie and Clyde. Winter and I shared such a strange connection—we were both different, we were both like outlaws, on our own. Had she really known about the Jewel all along, and lied to me about it? The picture of her I’d seen in Sligo’s safe—wearing the Jewel—didn’t make any sense. She had seemed so committed to getting me into Sligo’s place, and out of there in one piece with the Jewel in my possession.
Anyway, I thought to myself, I had to put that mystery out of my mind for now—I had a movie to watch.
182 days to go …
I woke up in a sweat and quickly scrambled off the recliner chair I was sprawled on. I’d let myself fall asleep after watching the movie last night, but my old nightmare had returned and sent my mind into a spin.
Weird shadows filled the spacious room. I jumped up and went to the living room, back to my place on the rug, still trying to shake the white toy dog and the wailing baby from my head. When the sound wouldn’t go away, I realised a real baby was crying, far away in a neighbouring property. Huddled against the wall, I tried telling myself everything was all right.
I couldn’t fool myself. I was still haunted by the dark and desolate nightmare—its thick atmosphere wouldn’t let me go. The world of the nightmare was too similar to the world I was sitting in right now—with a dark, deserted house, and the sound of a baby crying. Someone lost and abandoned. Someone exactly like me.
My mind flashed back to the ‘Twin Baby Abduction Nightmare’ article I’d seen at Great-uncle Bartholomew’s house.
What had he been hiding, and why?
Did those babies have something to do with me … and my recurring nightmare? When Bartholomew was dying, had he meant to say that one of them was me? Or had that been a slip of the tongue? A sick feeling in my gut grew the more I thought about it. It was starting to feel way too personal.
Twin baby. The face of my double hovered in my consciousness. He had my face.
Dad and Rafe were twins.
Was I?
The thought of having a long-lost twin seemed impossible. If only I could call my mum to ask her for the truth.
I fell back on my sleeping-bag. Right now, I couldn’t deal with this.
180 days to go …
The house phone was ringing. I waited, hoping it would match Boges’s code. After two short rings, followed by one long, I snatched it up.
‘Eric Blair’s back!’ he said. �
��I’ve been scoping out your dad’s old office on my way to school, and this morning I saw some new guy heading up the stairs outside the building. Immediately he caught my attention—he looked a bit frail—like someone who hasn’t seen the sun in a while.’
‘Yeah?’ I urged, excitement building.
‘And then this woman,’ Boges continued, ‘ran up the stairs after him, calling out—wait for it—Eric!’
‘No way!’
‘Yes, way! It has to be him. You must try calling him again.’
‘I will, I’ll try on a public phone today.’
‘Cool. I have to go, but I’ll see you on Wednesday.’
It took me quite a while to find a public phone in Crystal Beach, and I pounced on the first one I saw, dialling Eric with flying fingers.
‘Eric Blair, please,’ I said when the receptionist picked up. I noted it was a new voice, and was relieved I didn’t have to deal with the suspicious woman from my last call.
‘One moment,’ came the reply.
I waited, wondering what in the world I was going to say to him. I’d been anticipating this moment for so long, but hadn’t figured out a strategy. I had no idea how he was going to react to hearing from me.
‘Thank you for holding,’ the voice returned, like a recording. ‘Transferring you through.’
I could hardly believe it. Finally, I was getting the chance to talk to the guy that had been with Dad in Ireland, when he got sick.
‘Eric Blair speaking.’ His voice was tentative and gentle. ‘Hello?’
‘Mr Blair,’ I said, ‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for quite some time …’ I faltered, completely freaking out about what to say.
‘Yes, and how can I help you?’
‘Please don’t hang up on me when I tell you who I am—I really need your help, and have been counting on you for information.’
‘Information on what?’ he asked in a voice that was a little more familiar to me. He’d always sounded very confident and straightforward when I’d taken calls for Dad back home, way before the illness took hold.
‘I’m Tom Ormond’s son.’
There was a long silence at the other end before he spoke again.
‘Cal?’
‘Yes.’
‘Cal. I’m really sorry about what happened to your father. I was unwell myself, and have been a bit … umm … out of touch, but I know that you’re in trouble. It’s only my first day back in the office, so I can’t really talk to you right now, but you should give me your number and we can chat another time.’
‘Please,’ I said. ‘I have so many questions about what happened in Ireland. And don’t believe what you’ve heard about me. None of it’s true.’
He took down my mobile number and we hung up.
It wasn’t until I was halfway back to the mansion that I realised I’d given him a number he couldn’t even call me on.
178 days to go …
Shortly before four o’clock, I waited for Boges near the busy ticket line. I kept my head down and avoided eye contact, following the rule of the street. Nobody took any notice of me standing there like anyone else waiting for a friend to show up for a movie.
Somehow I’d managed to shove all thoughts of that haunting ‘Twin Baby Abduction Nightmare’ headline into the deepest corner of my mind, but it hadn’t been so easy to squeeze Winter in there with it. I couldn’t get her floaty hair and tiny bird tattoo out of my mind, and I couldn’t stop picturing the photo I’d seen of her in the silver dress wearing the Ormond Jewel around her neck. If she knew about it all along, why didn’t she just say so? And then why did she help us steal it? There had to be another explanation. Without her help, we never could have penetrated Sligo’s security to get into the safe.
Boges hadn’t shown up yet, and I wished he’d hurry. This wait in public was doing my head in. I was thinking about the mysterious warning I’d received: If the heir dies before his sixteenth birthday …
I didn’t know what ‘the heir’ in the message was about, but my sixteenth birthday, 31 July, was coming up fast. I couldn’t help but believe it referred to me, and that right now I was a bigger target than ever.
July also meant the anniversary of Dad’s death. He died only a matter of days before my birthday, which meant that my fifteenth had been absolutely miserable.
The memory of it returned as if it had happened yesterday. Mum was like a ghost, filled with grief, drifting around the house like a lost soul. She and Gabbi tried so hard to make my birthday count—they even baked me a cake and gave me an awesome skateboard—but it was way too soon. The house was still fresh with the scent of flowers from Dad’s funeral.
When the three of us sat at the table, lit up by the glow of the candles on my birthday cake, the empty chair was all we could focus on.
Gabbi stared at it with longing. ‘It’s not fair,’ she’d cried. ‘How can anyone have a birthday without Dad? Why did he have to leave us like this? It’s just not fair!’
Mum put her arms around both of us, pulling us tight. Through tears she said that he’d always be there, in our hearts. She said that we’d all have to be strong and go on without him; we’d have to be there for each other, because he would be so sad if he saw us falling apart.
Something vibrated in my bag. Confused, I dug my mobile out, and was shocked to see a glimmer of life on the stained screen—someone had just sent me a message.
I fumbled, trying to see if there was a number with it, but the phone blacked out again. I looked around, worried—was I being watched right now? Was a skull on a lifeless phone a warning?
I pulled my hoodie around my face and quickly walked away from the cinema. At the first side street I started running, not stopping until I was five or six blocks away, in the area around Central Station, where I ducked into a phone booth and called Boges.
‘Someone’s just messaged me—sent me a pic of a skull, saying “Gotcha”! I bolted from the cinemas, and right now I’m in a phone booth at the station. I didn’t even think my mobile was working!’
‘You’ve gotta lose that mobile! I’ll get you another one,’ said Boges. ‘How did anyone get your number?’
‘Maybe Sligo’s on to Winter. Maybe he knows that she’s been helping me, and he got into her phone.’
‘Maybe she gave it to him.’
‘No way. She’s on our side, not his,’ I said. I still hadn’t told Boges about the photo of Winter I’d found in the safe, but I was feeling more protective of her than ever—I feared what Sligo would do to her if he found out she’d been assisting his enemy.
Boges had been held up at home and it was too late now for me to double back to the cinema and meet him. We agreed to meet up tomorrow, at a new location. He told me again to get rid of the phone in case someone, somehow, was tracking it.
I did better than lose it. It took me about three minutes to dodge security, jump the station ticket barriers and run down to one of the platforms. No-one even noticed as I slipped my phone through one of the windows of the train, and disappeared again.
If Sligo or Oriana de la Force were able to get a GPS reading on my half-dead mobile, they’d think I was heading west, fast.
I’d learned something from Bartholomew and Maggers.
177 days to go …
Approaching the address Boges had given me, I found myself in an industrial area with the occasional block of apartments between warehouses and bulk storage buildings.
I didn’t recognise Boges immediately. As I came closer, he pushed himself away from the wall where he’d been leaning, dangling a key. He was wearing mirrored sunglasses and white overalls. Beside him were his bag and some paint tins.
‘Uncle Sammy has a storage unit here,’ he said, grinning. ‘It’s pretty big. He asked me to drop off these paint tins. Saves me drawing any attention to the mansion by visiting you there. Quick, chuck this on,’ he said, throwing me a pair of white overalls like his. ‘Better make it look like we both mean business.’
Boges unlocked the security grille at the front of the block, and we wandered down to his uncle’s unit. He unlocked the garage door, rolled it up and we stepped inside. Then he flicked a light switch on and pulled the roller door back down.
The room was fairly empty, aside from a couple of industrial vacuum cleaners, crates and other boxes.
‘You’ll need this. It’s clean,’ said Boges, handing me another phone from his pocket, along with a piece of paper with the number written on it. ‘Only you and I know the number. Keep it that way.’ He gave me a look from under his sunglasses and pulled a couple of crates towards us to sit on. ‘The cops can sometimes pinpoint where a mobile is being used, but they need your number first. I’m afraid there’s only one person who could have double-crossed you…’
‘Winter risked everything to help us get the Jewel,’ I said, defensively.
‘Whether or not she was involved,’ he said impatiently, ‘the fact is that Sligo’s getting awfully close to you. Dude, I hate to say it, but I think he wants to rub you out before your sixteenth birthday.’
I nodded, knowing what he was saying was probably true, before moving the conversation away from that grim idea. ‘I phoned Eric Blair,’ I said. ‘He said he’d call me back—it was only his first day back in the office.’
‘What do you mean, he’s going to call you?’
‘He was flat out, so I gave him my—oh crap,’ I said, remembering that Winter clearly wasn’t the only person I’d given my number to. ‘But my phone wasn’t even working—I didn’t think he’d be able to call me.’
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