by Rhys Jones
There was a tremendous crash as Rollins hit the machines. Sparks flew and smoke immediately started drifting upwards from the overturned black boxes. Oz’s convulsion was over in a moment, but his momentum had sent him careening over the back of the chair so that they both toppled backwards. With his muscles like Seabourne County canteen blancmange and unable to protect himself, Oz hit the floor head first with a sickening crunch. A bolt of new pain shot through his skull, but it was what was happening inside it that made him forget the pain in an instant.
From where he was lying and through watering eyes, Oz could still see the room, see Rollins struggling to his feet, tossing aside pieces of equipment as if they were made of cardboard as he tried to get to Oz. But then there was a burst of static and coloured lines, something that sounded like a chime and suddenly, a pretty, grey-eyed face appeared inside Oz’s head. It flickered unsteadily, like an old TV, but then the image cleared and he heard a female voice.
“Emergency power low at point-five capacity. Hostile assailant detected. Probability of attack, 95 percent. Would you like me to instigate amnestic deflection?”
Oz blinked his eyes, but the girl remained even as the rest of the room swam. A wave of sickness washed over him, but out of the corner of his eye he could also see Rollins coming, his face distorted with fury, eyes intent on damaging Oz.
“Yeah. Stop him,” he ordered.
The last thing Oz remembered of that night was also the strangest thing of all. Rollins lunged towards him with a roar. He took three strides before there was again the sound of something faintly musical in Oz’s head. Even Rollins stopped and look around curiously. He looked down even more curiously at the baton in his hand. Then, incredibly, he touched the end of it to his own forearm and pressed the button. The jolt sent him crashing backwards against the basement wall and, like Lucy Bishop having met with Ellie’s right foot, Rollins slid, unconscious, to the floor with an expression of bewildered surprise.
Oz tried to get up on to one elbow, but the room spun nauseatingly. The grey-eyed girl was fading and a black wave threatened. He could still see smoke rising from the equipment. He ought to do something, call someone, tell them about Ellie and Ruff and Lucy Bishop before the fire took hold, but he couldn’t. He was too weak. Despair engulfed him with the realization that he couldn’t help his friends and, worse, that he had failed his mother and father at the last. But then the black wave of unconsciousness finally crashed over him and washed all his pain mercifully away into darkness and oblivion.
* * *
He woke up because he was thirsty. There was no need to, otherwise, because he was actually having quite a nice dream about a water-bomb fight with Jenks and Skinner and finding secret passages with Ellie and Ruff…
“Oz, are you awake?” He heard a familiar voice close by, low and full of concern. “Did I see your eyelids flutter just then?” He lifted his heavy lids and blinked as the room, strange and white and grey, swam into focus. Daylight flooded in through a large window. There was a slightly sickly smell of disinfectant in the air and he knew instantly that this wasn’t Penwurt. His mother’s face loomed into view. She leaned over him, a hopeful smile fighting with a quivering lip for dominance.
“Any chance of a drink of water, Mum?” Oz managed to croak before he was completely engulfed in a bone-crushing hug. He thought about protesting, but then, as memory of what had happened in the basement began to creep in, he realised that being alive and thirsty and being hugged by his mother was a pretty good situation to be in, all things considered.
“Oz, I thought that…we thought that you were…” She squeezed him tighter, and Oz heard her sniff. Eventually, she let him go and fetched him a glass of water from a jug on a locker next to his bed.
Oz hoisted himself up onto an elbow, took a swallow from the proffered glass and then remembered with a jolt what had happened before he’d got to the basement. He shot up in the bed and grabbed his mother’s arm.
“Ellie and Ruff, Mum. Are they…?”
“They’re fine. Both tucked up in bed at home.”
Relief surged through him and he let out a huge sigh.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“It’s half past seven in the morning, Oz. They weren’t sure if you were concussed or if it was just the aftereffects of that thing Perkins used.”
Being reminded of the baton and its power sent a sudden shiver dancing up and down his spine. He put the beaker to his lips again and drank greedily, though he couldn’t stop the rim from chattering against his teeth. Tepid water from a plastic jug had never, ever tasted so sweet and good.
“It was a stun gun,” he said, holding out the beaker for more water. “And his name isn’t Perkins, Mum. It’s Rollins.”
“I know.” Mrs. Chambers nodded. “He told the police he couldn’t remember who he was, but they have him on file.”
Oz noted that her eyes were dark-rimmed and puffy from lack of sleep.
“Did they have it on file that he works for Gerber, too?”
Mrs. Chambers shook her head. “Used to, Oz. He used to work for one of Mr. Gerber’s research divisions, but he was sacked six months ago.”
“But he was working for Gerber, Mum. He spent all that time with us spying, trying to find out Penwurt’s secrets…”
“Now, Oz. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. The police are still not sure what Rollins’ motives were. There’s all sorts of equipment in what’s left of the orphanage basement…”
Oz frowned. “What do you mean, what’s left?”
“There was quite a bit of fire damage. The orphanage is off-limits until the structural engineers can assess things.”
Oz stared at his mother, trying to take in this new information, and the way she’d carefully ignored what he’d said about the artefacts.
“Mum, did Ellie and Ruff tell you what happened? Did they tell you about Lucy Bishop breaking Dad’s clock and stealing the artefacts?”
The words made Mrs. Chambers flinch, as if she’d suddenly heard a jarring noise. But she composed her face into a reassuring smile.
“Poor Lucy. She’s clearly deranged. They’ve taken her to a secure unit. She kept on and on about her brother, and her needing to feed him. He was living rough in the park, apparently. They picked him up, too.” Mrs. Chambers shook her head sadly. “Mental illness, it’s such an awful thing when it happens to someone close to you. Enough to send anyone off the rails, I suppose; we both know that, don’t we?” She held his gaze and he nodded slowly.
“I’m not denying that she did break the clock and steal those items you mention, but you see how dangerous all this nonsense is? There’s always someone vulnerable out there, willing to believe any old superstitious clap-trap. You should know that better than most, Oz.”
Oz knew what she meant, all right, but she was wrong and he couldn’t just let this go. “But it isn’t clap-trap, Mum! Something happened in the basement; something helped me.”
Mrs. Chambers sat down, took Oz’s hand in hers and regarded him wearing her most serious face. “The police think that perhaps Lucy Bishop and Rollins were working together. That perhaps they were members of some kind of sect. I’m really sorry for what they did to you. I should have been more vigilant…”
“Mum, none of this is your fault, and Rollins and Lucy Bishop weren’t working together…” He faltered as another bit of the jigsaw fell into place. He remembered what he’d heard as he’d stood hiding in the garage watching Heeps and Gerber discussing Penwurt. “Gerber knew Tim was Rollins, Mum. I heard him say his name.”
Mrs. Chambers looked suddenly stern. “Oz, you can’t go around saying things about Mr. Gerber like that. He’s a powerful man, and there’s such a thing as slander.”
A sudden pang of panic grabbed him. “You didn’t sign anything, did you? You didn’t sell the place to them?”
A funny little knowing look came over Mrs. Chambers’ face. “We did talk about it, but then I said I’d promised you I
wouldn’t do anything without talking to you first about their very generous offer. Lorenzo still doesn’t think I should, but…”
“Tell me you didn’t sign anything, Mum,” demanded Oz through clenched teeth.
“Calm down. I didn’t sign anything, all right? They’d even brought papers, but I was adamant, and then I got the phone call about you and all hell broke loose. By the time I got home, the fire brigade were there and then the police came…” She looked down and gave Oz another wan smile and wiped away a strand of fringe from his forehead. “At least you’re okay. And you know what? There is a silver lining. The fire in the basement has melted everything that was in there, so we can say goodbye to those…Morsman thingies once and for all.”
Oz’s gut plummeted through the floor. “What?” he whispered.
“Amazing, really. Turns out that the basement ceiling is nearly three feet thick. It protected the house above, but it acted like an oven. Everything inside has cooked. Will I miss those old patio chairs or the blue-spotted carpet, I wonder? I don’t think so. The insurance will pay for the basement to be redone. So that should make selling the place a lot easier.”
Oz knew that his mother was trying to cheer him up, but she was failing miserably. He didn’t even protest at her heavy hint about the house being sold, because all he could think about was that the pebble and the dor were gone. Cooked to a carbon crisp in the basement. He flopped back on his pillow, turning his face away so she couldn’t see his despair, mind whirling with this new information.
“Oh, Oz,” said Mrs. Chambers, misinterpreting the flop as a relapse. “The police are going to want to talk to you at some stage, but not while you’re unwell like this. How’s your head?”
“Fine,” he said, keeping his face to the wall. “But maybe I should go back to sleep. I’m feeling a bit tired.”
“Of course, darling.” She went and sat in a chair by the window and picked up a book.
Oz closed his eyes. He didn’t feel sleepy, but he didn’t want to talk anymore. A huge black bubble of bitter disappointment was expanding inside him, threatening to burst at any moment.
The artefacts were gone.
He should have been rejoicing at the fact that he and Ruff and Ellie had survived. But all that was going through his mind were Rollins’ words: ‘Imagine you’re a caveman finding a mobile phone. Press enough buttons and it’ll make an entertaining noise, but you’d still have no idea of its true capability.’
Penwurt was full of secrets. Secrets that Gerber wanted. Oz knew that for certain, now. But what chance did he have of discovering them without the artefacts?
At ten, some doctors came and examined him. They gently pressed the lump on his head and said he’d need the stitches out in a few days. Then they told him that the scan he’d had while he was unconscious showed no damage and, once they’d had a couple of blood tests back, he could go home.
“That’s fantastic news,” Mrs. Chambers said, beaming. “Right. I’m going to get a coffee and freshen up. I’ll be twenty minutes. Will you be okay here?”
“I’ll be fine, Mum.”
He knew he was being desperately unfair to her, but the truth was that Oz was quite glad to be left alone. He just wanted to wallow in his misery for a while, even though common sense told him it would do no good. The artefacts were gone and there was nothing he could do about it. He was even beginning to wonder if he’d imagined the girl in the basement. After all, he’d had a severe knock on the head and… He looked up. The door had opened a crack and a head appeared, followed quickly by a second, virtually identical one. Two voices whispered, “Are you alone?”
“Savannah? Sydney?” said Oz, sitting bolt upright. “What are you doing here?”
The Fanshaw twins hurried over to Oz’s bedside. “We caught the bus in,” Savannah said.
“But how did you know I was here?”
“You mean, apart from Magnus Street being full of fire engines and ambulances half the night?” Sydney said.
“Ah,” Oz said.
“It was your text message, silly,” Savannah explained.
“What text message?” Oz frowned.
“The one you sent us last night. The one that said the basement was on fire and that you needed help—”
“It was us that pulled you out—”
“Although we’re not surprised you don’t remember anything—”
“You were out cold.”
Oz stared at them, knowing his mouth was open but unable to close it.
Sydney took out her phone and showed Oz the message.
Penwurt basement on fire. Need help.
“I don’t even remember sending a text,” Oz said, frowning.
“Who else could it have been?” Savannah asked.
“Though we admit there’s no sender number—” Sydney noted.
“We thought maybe you’d blocked that on your phone,” Savannah said.
“I don’t think it was me,” Oz said.
Sydney gave a dismissive snort. “Then who was it?”
As quickly as possible, Oz told them all about what had happened, from finding the hidden passages and fighting Lucy Bishop, right up until the time the grey-eyed girl had appeared and Rollins had stunned himself into unconsciousness. Being S and S, they accepted it all without question and were only too keen to fill him in on what had happened after that.
“We could see the fire through the telescope—”
“So we sent for the fire brigade—”
“We got you out just as they arrived—”
“There was an awful lot of smoke.”
They grinned at him.
“Thanks,” Oz said with feeling. “Lucky you were in, otherwise…”
The strange thing was, he didn’t feel particularly lucky. Not with the artefacts gone. But it would have been churlish to tell S and S that. After all, they’d just saved his life.
“I sort of owe you both an explanation.” He hesitated and then asked, “Did you know that some people think my dad killed himself?”
They shook their heads solemnly, four identical big eyes watching him intently.
Oz nodded, satisfied that they, too, were ignorant. “This is a long, long story and I will tell you all of it when I know the truth. Trouble is, I’m not sure I ever will, now,” he added thickly.
“Why won’t you ever find out?” Savannah cocked her head.
“Because…” Oz said, fighting back the tears of frustration that threatened, “I wanted to show my mum that Penwurt is special. Show her that my dad was convinced of it and that for him, finding the artefacts would have been like winning the lottery. He would never have wanted to do any harm to himself. He’d have been too excited. And now, with the artefacts gone, there’s no chance of anything…”
The twins studied him with a slightly puzzled look.
Oz could only shake his head hopelessly. “Mum said the basement was like an oven. That everything got cooked. Now the pebble and the dor are just black blobs of charred…whatever.” It came out as a half-sob. Oz let his head fall and wiped the moisture from his eyes on his pyjama sleeve.
S and S exchanged glances, their eyes large and solemn. Savannah reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out something wrapped in a paper handkerchief. Sydney slowly peeled back the dirty paper to reveal something solid nestling there, something dark and soot-encrusted. She wiped it in the tissue and held it out to Oz.
“Is this what you mean?” they said in unison.
Oz looked down. In Sydney’s hand was a black oval pebble with a small bump on its surface that looked very much like the back of a scarab beetle.
Chapter 16
Achmed’s
S and S had long gone by the time Mrs. Chambers got back, but Oz was having difficulty hiding his change of mood and the fact that the artefacts were now under his pillow.
“My, you are feeling better, aren’t you? What was in that water, I wonder?”
Oz shrugged. “Just looking forward to gett
ing out of here. Did you bring me any clothes, Mum? I don’t want to go home in my pyjamas.”
“I did, indeed. Clean jeans, T-shirt and a hoody. Standard Oz uniform.”
“So, can I change now?”
Mrs. Chambers took the hint and made herself scarce, while Oz changed and quickly tucked the fused pebble and dor into a zipped inside pocket of his sweatshirt. All his blood tests turned out to be normal, and by eleven-thirty Oz and his mother were on their way home.
As they drove through a damp December Seabourne, he borrowed her phone to text Ellie and Ruff and, plucking up as much courage as he could muster, asked, “Mum, can Ellie and Ruff come over later?”
His mother’s expression was not encouraging. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea, Oz.”
“But we’ve got loads to talk about. And they’ll definitely want to make sure I’m okay,” he pleaded, and then added hurriedly, “Not to stay the night or anything.”
Mrs. Chambers sighed. “Okay, but it’s early to bed for you tonight, with no arguments.”
Oz grinned and began texting furiously again.
Penwurt looked none the worse for wear from the front, but an acrid stench hung in the air wherever they went. Oz and his mother took a stroll around the side of the house to inspect the damage. What was left of the basement’s charred contents had been dumped outside in a soggy black mess. All the doors to the orphanage were open to let the air in, and the ground level windows had all been blown out. Streaks of black soot smeared the walls and windowsills like blood from a wound.
Seeing it sent a shudder through Oz and he didn’t linger; too many what-might-have-been thoughts crowded in. Instead, he went to the warm kitchen, made tea and toast with extra jam and took them up to the library. The panel door was closed and, using Essence, Alum, Soap, and Tin, he opened it up again just to see if it still worked. It did. Inside, the passageway was dark and uninviting and the acrid aroma drifting up from below seemed even stronger, so he suppressed a shiver and shut the panel again quickly. He spent a pleasant hour or two decorating the library with old-school paper chains and cardboard snowmen he’d found in a cupboard, as well as a miniature, nine-inch high, silver tinsel Christmas tree, complete with a glowing star at its apex.