Skyfire

by Michael Adams

  ‘Are you all right?’ Sybil asked.

  Yasmin forced herself to nod.

  She climbed up into the donkey cart as the man stacked watermelons over her.

  ‘Fortune be with you, Yasmin,’ Sybil whispered.

  ‘Harr!’ the man said and the cart pulled away behind the clip-clopping donkey.

  They turned one corner, then another, and another. By the time they left the City of the Dead and rumbled onto the clogged Cairo streets, Yasmin had lost track of time.

  Above the clamour of honking, a man shouted close behind them.

  ‘Hold it!’ Jackal commanded. ‘You, donkey man, stop!’

  Beneath the fruit, Yasmin’s body went rigid with fear.

  She heard the crunch of the detective’s boots on the dusty street. Through gaps in the watermelons and the cart’s wooden planks, Yasmin saw Jackal pass by just centimetres from her.

  ‘You’ve come from the City of the Dead?’ he demanded.

  The donkey-cart driver said he had.

  ‘Have you seen this girl?’

  Yasmin heard the rustling of newspaper. She guessed Jackal was showing the man her photo in an article about the DARE Awards. She held her breath.

  ‘No,’ the man said. ‘Rich people don’t go there. Only the poor. Would you like to buy a watermelon?’

  Jackal didn’t say anything for a moment. Yasmin pictured him smelling the air for her scent.

  ‘All right,’ he growled. ‘Move on, donkey man!’

  As the cart lurched forwards, Yasmin silently thanked her lucky stars for the kindness of strangers.

  Through the slats, she saw Jackal rubbing his jaw.

  ‘I hope you find the girl,’ the driver called out cheerfully.

  ‘I’ll find her,’ Jackal said, spitting on the ground. ‘If it’s the last thing I do.’

  Andy had visited the seventh-floor LAPD office many times before. As Frank’s son, he’d always felt like an honorary cop. But as Daniels led him and Dylan across the squad room, his dad’s colleagues either avoided eye contact or gave them solemn looks. Andy didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. Then his stomach felt like it was falling away.

  ‘Look,’ he hissed to Dylan. ‘Corner office.’

  Through the glass windows they saw Frank Freeman at a table, talking to Beard Dude and Bald Guy. What could be going on?

  Daniels dropped their phones into his desk drawer. ‘This way,’ he said, leading the boys into a small conference room.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Andy queried.

  The young officer paused awkwardly by the door. ‘Your dad said you’re gonna have to just sweat it out. Sorry.’ With that, he closed the door.

  ‘Mate, what do you reckon’s happening?’ Dylan asked.

  Andy shook his head as he peered through the blinds. ‘Bald Guy and Beard Dude aren’t even in handcuffs.’

  What he could see in the corner office looked polite. Frank was nodding and listening when he should’ve been snarling and shouting at those two scumbags.

  ‘I’m not sure what we stumbled into,’ Andy said, ‘but whatever it is …’

  But Dylan no longer heard him. Instead he was staring with a stunned expression out the conference-room window. Los Angeles smoggy atmosphere had put a halo around the morning sun so that it looked like … a fiery dot inside a flaming circle.

  Maybe Isabel’s symbol wasn’t an eye!

  ‘Andy,’ Dylan said, ‘reckon I can ask Daniels a favour?’

  Andy shrugged. ‘Can’t hurt to try. What is it?’

  ‘A hunch,’ Dylan said.

  Andy opened the door and called out to Daniels, who loped over from his desk.

  ‘Can you look something up on the internet for me?’ Dylan asked.

  The young cop blinked. ‘Uh, I don’t know.’

  ‘I’ll make sure KitKat write something really nice to your wife,’ Dylan said smoothly. ‘What’s her name again?’

  ‘Madison,’ Daniels said, hands up. ‘OK, OK, what do you need?’

  ‘A dot in a circle,’ Dylan said. ‘What does that symbol mean?’

  Daniels frowned. ‘You guys are stuck in here and that’s what you want to know?’

  Dylan nodded. ‘Humour me?’

  A few minutes later, Daniels slipped a sheet of paper under the door. He’d copied an explanation from a website.

  ‘I knew it,’ Dylan said as he looked at the print-out. ‘Look!’

  He showed Andy the paper.

  ‘It’s called a circumpunct,’ Dylan said as he read. ‘“At the dawn of human history it was used to symbolise the sun. Later it came to be a symbol for gold, the colour of the sun. And in astrology it means sun-day”.’

  ‘Sunday,’ Andy said. ‘The day of the attack.’

  Dylan nodded. ‘We need to tell everyone else.’

  But without their phones, they weren’t telling anyone anything.

  At first the boys were sure Andy’s dad would be in any minute. They talked excitedly about the symbols and who might have sent them and how they’d convince Detective Freeman to help. But as minutes piled up into hours and their conversation began to go around in circles, a sense of weariness set in. Despite themselves, the boys snoozed, heads resting on their arms on the conference table.

  Dylan woke and rubbed his aching neck. ‘Guess we won’t be hitting up Laguna Beach today,’ he said gloomily.

  Andy didn’t reply; he was up and peering through the blinds. ‘Daniels looks like he’s doing an afternoon coffee run,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in a sec.’

  With that, he opened the door and slipped out.

  ‘Hey!’ Dylan hissed, jumping to his feet. ‘What’re you doing?’

  Snapping open the blinds answered his question. Andy was crouched by Daniels’ desk, collecting their phones from his drawer. A moment later, he scurried back into the conference room and collapsed on the carpet, chest heaving but smiling ear-to-ear.

  ‘Mate,’ Dylan said, ‘are you crazy?’

  ‘Probably,’ Andy grinned. ‘But we have to know what’s been going on.’

  Andy brought up the Games Thinker website.

  ‘Time’s running out,’ Dylan said, ‘for whatever it’s counting down to.’

  ‘It’ll be about five in the afternoon in Bogotá,’ Andy calculated. ‘So that means midnight in Athens and Cairo and seven am in Seoul. Not that we should worry about waking people up now.’

  Dylan nodded. ‘Call all DARE Award winners,’ he said softly. ‘Link in Andy’s phone.’

  Seconds later, they had Isabel, Mila, JJ and Zander on their screens. There were greetings all round—and a lot of concern that they still couldn’t get through to Yasmin.

  ‘Let me try her again,’ Zander said, eyes flicking to make a call on his SmartGlasses. ‘Yes, it is ringing!’

  Yasmin’s face appeared on their shared screens, almost completely in shadow. ‘Guys,’ she whispered. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Thank goodness you are all right,’ Zander said. ‘We have all been worried.’

  ‘I’m OK,’ Yasmin said, ‘but the network’s been out.’

  ‘Where are you?’ Andy asked.

  ‘You won’t believe me.’

  ‘Try us,’ Dylan said.

  Yasmin tilted her phone so they could see her immediate surroundings—ripe green fruit.

  ‘Hiding in a donkey cart under watermelons. I’m heading for the railway station,’ she said.

  ‘What? Why?’ Isabel asked.

  Quickly and quietly, Yasmin told them about her Jackal ordeal, how she’d seen the pyramid attacked, the chase through Cairo and how Miss Chen had arranged her escape from Alexandria. ‘But what you really won’t believe is that I think the symbols—’

  ‘Predicted what happened,’ Zander finished. ‘We think that, too.’

  ‘We’ve sent you texts about it,’ JJ added.

  ‘They haven’t come through yet,’ Yasmin said. ‘Quick, tell me before the network drops out again.’

  JJ brought
Yasmin up to speed on the symbols they’d decoded. Isabel added the information about the pilcrow. Dylan revealed what he’d found out about the circumpunct. Then Yasmin stunned them all with what Sybil had explained about the lituus.

  ‘That’s it, we’ve got them all now,’ JJ said, holding up his phone screen.

  ‘This is freaking me out,’ Dylan said.

  There were murmurs of agreement.

  ‘Does anyone have any idea about the little arrows around each symbol?’ Isabel asked.

  No-one did.

  ‘Maybe it’s like, I don’t know, a brand or something?’ Andy said. ‘The way we know they’re all part of the set?’

  Zander shook his head as if dismissing what he considered another lame comment. ‘What about this man chasing you?’ he asked Yasmin. ‘Do you think he is involved?’

  Yasmin nodded and shrugged at the same time. ‘I don’t know. Him appearing at the same time this all happened is definitely strange. But I think I have lost him now.’

  ‘Good,’ Zander nodded.

  ‘What is not good,’ Mila said softly, ‘is the countdown starting again, yes? Will there be another attack when the time runs out?’

  No-one wanted to answer that question.

  ‘Yasmin—and Andy and Dylan,’ Zander said, ‘we wanted to talk to you before deciding whether to tell the authorities about all this. What do you think?’

  ‘Whoever we tell,’ said Dylan, ‘if they believe us, the first suspect will be Felix.’

  ‘That was my concern,’ Zander agreed.

  ‘But him being involved is ridiculous, isn’t it?’ Dylan asked.

  Zander shrugged. ‘We seven seem to be the only people who got the symbols.’

  Isabel nodded. ‘And Felix does have the resources to pull something like this off.’

  ‘But why?’ JJ asked. ‘Why would he do this?’

  ‘We are not saying he did,’ Zander replied. ‘Just saying how it might look. Andy, any brilliant ideas?’

  Andy snapped out of his thoughts. ‘Felix could be connected. Or someone could be setting him up. But in any case, we have to tell someone.’

  ‘But who?’ Isabel asked. ‘Who can we trust?’

  ‘I don’t trust anyone more than my dad,’ Andy said.

  Zander shook his head. ‘Your dad is just a city detective.’

  Andy bristled. ‘My father is a veteran cop who used to be in army intelligence. He has contacts in the CIA, NSA and FBI. If anyone can put us in touch with the right people, my dad can.’

  Zander held up his hands. ‘All right. All right. Does everyone agree?’

  Everyone did.

  ‘OK,’ Andy said. ‘Me and Dylan will call you back as soon as we’ve told him everything.’

  The donkey cart came to a stop.

  ‘We’re here,’ the driver said.

  Yasmin climbed out of her hiding spot, thanked the man profusely and ran into the sprawl of Ramses Station. On the outside it seemed like a typical old city building. But the inside terminal resembled a glittering shopping mall. The lower marble floor was lined with plastic white columns. Escalators led to a mezzanine floor of cafes under a ceiling of fake gold-and-blue glass. Everywhere people were huddled and getting the latest updates on the crises from their phones and the wall TVs.

  Yasmin hoped Mahmoud was safely back home with her family. In the hours since she’d left the City of the Dead, she’d started to feel confident that she’d eluded Jackal. In a city of millions, plunged into turmoil, surely he couldn’t find her now.

  Yasmin had to call her family. She had to let them know she was OK. But she also needed her father to go online and buy her a train ticket to Alexandria. Just as she was about to bring up her father’s number, her phone rang in her hand. She laughed with relief at the caller ID—it was Mahmoud!

  ‘Brother!’ she answered.

  But it wasn’t Mahmoud who appeared on the phone’s screen. It was Jackal.

  Peering through the blinds, Andy saw that his dad was at long last striding towards them.

  Andy and Dylan hurriedly tucked their phones away.

  ‘I’m sorry you ended up stuck here,’ Detective Frank Freeman said as he walked into the conference room.

  ‘Dad, we need to tell you something,’ Andy said.

  ‘Whatever you need to say,’ he replied, frowning from his son to Dylan. ‘You can say to me in the official interview room. Let’s go.’

  Frank led the boys across the seventh floor to one of the windowless rooms used to interrogate suspects. Furnished with a table and plastic chairs, its walls were bare except for the video camera near the ceiling. Andy knew its flashing red light meant their conversation was being recorded.

  ‘Sit,’ Frank ordered, slapping a folder down on the table.

  Andy and Dylan glanced at each other and sat.

  ‘So,’ Frank said, sipping a coffee, ‘the two men in your video came in here first thing this morning.’ He let out a tired sigh. ‘Wanna know why?’

  ‘To give themselves up?’ Andy asked again hopefully.

  ‘No,’ Frank said. ‘They came in to clear their names and to file charges.’

  Andy’s mouth dropped open. Dylan looked just as surprised.

  ‘File charges?’ Andy said in disbelief.

  ‘Against the two of you.’ Frank pressed his hands to his temples like he had a headache. ‘Since then I’ve been doing my best to get you both out of the mess you’ve made.’

  ‘Mess?’ Andy said disbelievingly.

  Frank nodded. ‘You both have to do exactly what I tell you or—’

  The blood had drained from Andy’s and Dylan’s faces. All thoughts of what they needed to tell Frank were temporarily forgotten.

  ‘Or?’ Andy prodded in a small voice.

  ‘Or,’ his dad said, ‘you’re both going to be charged and I’ll have to place you under arrest.’

  Yasmin had to hold in a scream at the sight of Jackal with his sunglasses and leering smile.

  ‘Hello, Yasmin,’ he said. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Where’s Mahmoud?’ she demanded. ‘What have you done with my brother?’

  ‘He’s alive … for now. But he won’t be unless you tell me where you are.’

  Yasmin wanted to cry. She thought she and Mahmoud had escaped. ‘Show me he’s OK,’ she managed. ‘And then I’ll tell you where I am.’

  Jackal lifted his sunglasses and stared with those cold shark eyes. ‘I give the orders. Tell me where you are or I’ll show you Mahmoud—dead!’

  Yasmin bit her lip. ‘I-I-I’m at … the railway station.’

  Jackal smiled smugly. ‘Stay there—or Mahmoud dies. Don’t call anyone—or Mahmoud dies. Nod if you understand.’

  Yasmin nodded.

  ‘Good girl,’ he sneered. ‘I’ll come and find you.’

  Yasmin wanted to run. But she couldn’t. All she could do was wait for fate to arrive. Her phone rang again. She stared at the caller ID: Home. She pressed the button and her father appeared on the screen.

  ‘Daughter!’ he exclaimed. ‘Are you all right?’

  She nodded.

  ‘You’re at the railway station?’

  Yasmin nodded. Her heart was breaking. How could she tell him Mahmoud was in danger—and that she was about to be kidnapped?

  ‘Your mother’s going online now to buy you a first-class ticket to Alexandria,’ Mr Adib said hurriedly. ‘The boarding pass will be waiting for you at the ticket office. The train leaves at two-thirty am.’

  Yasmin’s head spun. How did he know where she was and where she was going? But that didn’t matter now. ‘Father, listen to me! Mahmoud’s been kidnapped—’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ her father said. ‘Mahmoud just got back. He had to walk the whole way.’

  Mr Adib turned his phone to show Mahmoud’s smiling face in their lounge room beside her mother and Radha. ‘Sister, I am OK,’ he said. ‘Glad you made it safely.’

  ‘But Jackal called me on your ph
one!’ Yasmin said. ‘He said he had you!’

  Mahmoud looked like he’d been punched. ‘I dropped my phone climbing over a wall. He must’ve found it and realised our trick! You must hide from him!’

  Yasmin ended the call and looked around wildly. She saw that the ticket office was upstairs past a food court. Rushing past people, she pushed her way up the escalator.

  Head down, Yasmin hurried towards the ticket office. But a long queue of passengers snaked out the door. If she waited there it would be too easy for Jackal to spot her.

  She had to find somewhere to hide while she came up with a plan to get by Jackal and get herself onto the train.

  ‘Excuse me,’ a cleaner said as she wiped down a table in front of Yasmin.

  Yes! This woman was the answer. Her uniform—blue headscarf, blue apron and blue rubber gloves—made her completely anonymous. Only now did Yasmin notice other women in the same outfit working around the food court. Dressed like that she might be able to evade Jackal and sneak onto the train.

  Yasmin hurried to a door marked ‘Staff Only’. With a furtive glance around, she pushed her way inside.

  Big arms crossed and buzz cut gleaming silver under the fluoro light, Frank’s grey eyes bored into Andy across the interrogation-room table. His son now fully appreciated how intimidated suspects must feel in his dad’s presence. He felt as though he was shrinking under that hard cop stare.

  ‘Arrest us?’ Andy managed in a small voice. He felt as run down as his phone battery. ‘You’re, like, joking, right?’

  Frank looked from his son to Dylan. Perspiration beaded the kid’s dark skin and his glasses were fogging up.

  ‘I’m sorry, boys,’ Frank said, ‘but I’m not.’

  ‘But why?’ Dylan asked. ‘They’re the ones blackmailing kids for money!’

  ‘Things aren’t always what they seem,’ Frank replied, sliding a folder across to them. ‘Take a look.’

  The boys huddled together. Andy flipped the file open. Inside were envelopes held together with a rubber band.

  ‘These are what they were collecting!’ Andy said. ‘One of these envelopes had Ethan’s money in it.’