March (15 page)

Boges had long gone home. Now I huddled in a doorway, far away in a small lane on the western side of the city, trying to rest for a moment and figure out where to go.

I was in big trouble. I knew that cop would never forget me or forgive me for taking him down, and I hoped that he’d be transferred to another part of the country, or another assignment—anything to get him off my back. Stealing police equipment was most likely a serious crime, too. But in my position, I had to grab whatever opportunities came my way. I was running for my life. Anything I could use to help me survive, I was going to take—even if I did have to take it from a cop.

I’d stowed the capsicum spray in my backpack but I knew I had to find a safer place for it, and for the rest of my arsenal—the explosive detonator caps were in there too.

I heard the sounds of an argument coming from a building opposite to where I hunched. Curious, I snuck over and, through the open
doorway, saw two men arguing over a card game. A bald-headed guy was already out of his seat and, as I watched, the other card player, a big skinhead in a leather jacket, jumped to his feet, knocking his chair right over. With a roar, the big bald-headed guy dived across the table and within seconds the two of them were grappling with each other. The table tipped over and the two men crashed, locked together, to the floor.

I wasn’t looking at them for long … I was focused on the pile of money that went flying from the tabletop. Without even thinking, I rushed in, past the men who were trying to throttle each other on the floor, and I scooped up as much of the cash as I could grab. I was just going for the last handful when I looked up and saw a kid standing in the doorway, looking in at me.

Shock jolted through my body!

It was him! I mean, me!

I was staring at my double again! He stood there, in a shirt and trousers, looking like he’d just stepped out of the office.

I forgot the possible danger I was in from the two fighting men. Everything around me seemed to stand still.

‘Hey!’ I yelled, as the spell broke and I
jumped up, heading in my double’s direction. I saw the fear in his eyes, as he realised it was me again, just before he turned and raced away.

‘I only want to talk to you!’ I yelled, taking off after him. And just as well I did, because my voice had alerted the skinhead and his bald-headed mate.

I was already halfway down the street by then and around the corner by the time they started coming after me. I saw my double race down a lane and disappear. With the two angry men coming after me, it wasn’t a good time for me to follow him down a lane without knowing what was at the end of it. I couldn’t risk it so I ran past the lane, stuffing cash deeper into my pockets, on the run again.

The yells of rage faded as I continued to run, my backpack bumping up and down like crazy. I wondered how much of an impact the detonators needed to set them off.

It wasn’t long before I’d lost them. I pulled up, puffing and panting, doubled over, trying to catch my breath. Who
was
this guy who looked exactly the same as me? What was a kid dressed like a bank clerk doing on the streets round this area? And most importantly, why did he keep running away from me? He’d recognised me, even with this black hair …

Slowly, my heart rate slowed and my breath became more normal. I counted the money and when I was finished I gave a yell of triumph. Finally, with my hoodie pulled right up to hide my face, I set off in the direction of the train station.

26 MARCH

281 days to go …

I felt a bit stupid knocking on the back wall of an old filing cabinet, but it was dark and there was no-one around in the disused railway yard. I didn’t know if Repro would mind me banging on his front door just after midnight, but I had a deal to put to him.

Realising that he wouldn’t answer unless he knew who it was, I hissed through the crack, ‘Repro! It’s me! Cal! I want to talk to you about a job.’

There was a long silence. Maybe he wasn’t there. Then I heard his voice.

‘What sort of job?’

‘Something that I think will interest you.’

‘Sure you haven’t brought anyone else with you?’

‘I’m alone,’ I said. I was jiggling with anxiety. He had to let me in again.

‘Can’t you tell me through the door?’

‘I’ve got a deal for you. I need help getting into a house, but there could be trouble. And you were a black-belt master.’

I heard him clearing his throat. ‘That’s right. So I was.’

‘Please let me in,’ I begged. ‘I need to talk business with you.’

There was a long silence.

‘Hey,’ I said, ‘I’ve got money …’

After a moment, I heard him dragging away the heavy wooden chest from the other side.

The back of the cabinet revolved and Repro’s thin face appeared. ‘Then come in, my boy. Why on earth didn’t you say so in the first place?’

Inside the stone cellar there seemed to be even more towers of stuff filling the space, since I’d last been there. I ducked under the washing line and dodged an unsteady pile of books, and placed a wad of money on the table. Repro quickly snatched it up.

‘This is a job for a black belt,’ I said. ‘For the man who won the championship at Singapore.’

‘Look,’ he said, fanning the notes through his fingers, ‘about that championship. Like I said, I
almost
won it.’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘So you came second, right?’

‘Not exactly,’ he said.

‘But you almost won it!’ I repeated.

‘I
almost
did. Except I didn’t.’

‘I understand that,’ I said, getting impatient.

‘I
almost
got to Singapore is what I meant.’

I stared at him. ‘You mean you weren’t even
in
Singapore?’

‘I was on my way, but I missed my plane.’

‘But you said …’ I started to say. ‘You weren’t even there?’

Repro pushed his thin hair back from his high forehead. ‘I would have won the competition if I’d been in it!’

‘Great,’ I said, anger making my voice sharp. ‘I’ll take my money back, thanks!’

His narrow face crinkled into a laugh. ‘I’m a mean street fighter! Just give me a chance to show you what I can do. You won’t be sorry!’

‘I’m sorry already,’ I said.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Give me a chance. Don’t be like that.’

‘Money, please.’ I put out my hand.

Slowly he started to pass back the money. ‘If you give me a chance, you won’t regret it. I’m fast on my feet, and a quick thinker in a tight spot.’

He stopped for a second, just before the money hit my open hand, and looked at me. I
looked back into his wide possum eyes and thought about the guardian angel pin he’d given me. My open hand closed.

‘Here’s the deal,’ I said. ‘Two hundred dollars all up. Half now, the other half once the job is done. And,’ I added, ‘you gotta let me crash here again tonight.’

He shook my hand fervently with his bony fingers. ‘You’ve got it. I won’t let you down.’

30 MARCH

277 days to go …

We’d been crouched in the bushes watching Oriana’s house for a while. A few people had come and gone, and Oriana herself had left about half an hour ago in her dark blue Mercedes. She seemed to take one bodyguard with her, but I couldn’t tell which one. She’d yelled out something into the house as she left, so we knew that there was still at least one person inside.

We didn’t know how long it would be before she came back, so we needed to act fast.

I prepared to move. I reassured myself by feeling the capsicum spray in the pocket of my hoodie, and by checking the clipboard with the flower delivery docket we’d prepared earlier. Between us sat a long, white box, held together with a red satin bow, and containing a dozen long-stemmed crimson roses.

I was wearing an outfit Repro and I had pulled together from the collection. I wore a black cap, a light grey, long-sleeved shirt, black trousers and a lanyard around my neck. I had even added a couple of pens to my outfit.

I pulled the spray out of my pocket, just to check again which way I needed to aim it.

‘Where’d you find that?’ asked Repro.

‘I kind of borrowed it from a cop.’

‘Do you know how to use it?’

‘Aim the spray and press,’ I said.

‘Just make sure you’re upwind,’ said Repro. ‘Blowback would be mighty painful.’

‘As soon as the door’s opened, I’ll use it on whoever gets in our way.’

My voice may have sounded confident but I was shaking with nerves. For the first time, I wasn’t on the run from this woman and her associates; instead I was taking the fight right into her territory. I didn’t know whether I’d find what I needed from her desk, but I hoped like hell that what we’d seen in the enhanced photograph was a copy of the Ormond Riddle, and I was willing to take the risk. I needed the edge over everyone else that was chasing this mystery.

‘Are you ready?’ I whispered to my companion.

Repro nodded.

‘Here goes,’ I said, getting to my feet. I tidied myself up, combing back my hair and tucking the box of roses and the clipboard under my arm. I tried hard to look older, as if I did this every day for a living, and strode up boldly to the front door and knocked.

Before long, footsteps approached the door and it was yanked open by a guy that looked like a sumo wrestler. This was the guy that I’d seen with Oriana the night I was up the tree in their front yard, spying on them through the window. He was about as wide as he was tall—and that seemed like metres above me.

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘What do you want, Buster?’

Buster
. I remembered being called that the night in January when I was grabbed off the street. I was pretty sure he was also the one who threw me in the boot.

Please don’t recognise me!

I went straight into my script. ‘I have a box of roses to deliver to this address. For a,’ I stopped to look at my clipboard, ‘Ms Oriana de la Force? Please sign here, sir.’

I offered the box and the clipboard with a receipt for the guy to sign.

‘Isn’t it a little late for deliveries?’ he said with a snarl.

‘Sorry, sir, you’re the last stop of the day.’

He frowned, grunted, and went to take the long box from me. In that moment I pulled the capsicum spray out of my pocket and squeezed the vapour in his face. Payback time, I thought. He roared and staggered backwards, while I shoved the can back in my pocket.

Repro was behind me in a flash. ‘Hold your breath!’ I shouted, ‘And cover your eyes as best you can!’

Together with Repro, I grabbed the reeling heavyweight, and we both pulled him out through the door, slamming it shut after him. He tumbled hard down the few front stairs.

I felt chilli stinging my eyes. I blinked. My eyes started streaming with tears. But I had other things to think about …

‘You OK?’ I asked Repro, who was sniffing beside me.

‘I think so,’ he said.

Within seconds we’d raced up the stairs, running along the upstairs hallway, throwing doors open, until I found the room I was after—Oriana de la Force’s study!

Opposite her desk was a walk-in wardrobe with stacks of dresses and shoes. On a shelf above the dresses, four red wigs on stands rested in a row, like severed heads. Beyond that
was Oriana’s lavish bedroom, done up in black and gold, and complete with a bulky chandelier. But I didn’t have time to admire her interior decorating. We only had minutes before the guy downstairs recovered and tried to get back in.

‘OK,’ said Repro, ‘what am I looking for?’

‘Keep an eye on the window,’ I said, not pausing in my search through the papers on the top of the desk, ‘and tell me what the big guy is doing.’

Repro did as I asked and peered out of the window but jumped back quickly. ‘The big guy looks like he’s out cold—must have hit his head or something—but whatever you’re looking for, you better find it fast,’ he said, ‘because the blue Mercedes is pulling up outside.’

Feverishly, my fingers shaking from nerves because there was nothing on the desktop now, I started pulling the drawers out. From downstairs I could hear raised voices in the front garden. And only a few seconds later the front door must have opened, because I heard feet running through the downstairs hall. I cleared the second drawer. Nothing.

In the third drawer, I found a square silver case. Maybe she’d hidden the text of the riddle in here? My fingers were still shaking as I lifted it out. They slipped completely when I opened
the lid and hundreds of little silver cachous bounced across the desk like tiny stones, before spilling to the floor. They shot out in all directions.

‘Hurry, my boy!’ Repro was jigging up and down next to the window, alternately peering outside and turning to me.

I didn’t need any extra urging—I was moving as fast as I could, straining to open the bottom drawer.

‘Help me!’ I yelled as I heard footsteps starting to mount the staircase. ‘This drawer is locked!’

Repro pushed me out of the way, did something to the lock with a long thin letter-opener and yanked the drawer open. The footsteps thudded up to the top of the stairs. Any second now and they’d be in the study. Repro raced over to a heavy chest and started dragging it towards the other side of the room. I didn’t have a chance to wonder what he was doing—I was sending papers flying as I searched through the pile in the bottom drawer, desperate to find the creamy-coloured paper Boges and I had seen in the photo. Behind me Repro was stacking furniture against the door. A bookcase was overturned and dozens of books went flying all over the floor.

My desperate search turned up nothing remotely connected to the Ormond Riddle or the Ormond Angel. In the corridor, a couple of angry voices got louder as they thudded down the hallway towards the study.

Then, right at the bottom of the drawer I spotted a paper folder. I flipped it open and saw a worn piece of thick parchment paper. I felt sure this was the creamy page we’d seen! Despite the sounds of Oriana de la Force’s bodyguards bashing at the door, a thrill of excitement fizzed through my body. In old-fashioned, flowery writing, I read two powerful words …

‘Ormond Riddle.’

Beneath it, in the same trailing writing, were the lines of the Riddle!

The Riddle!

I’d been searching for this since January! I couldn’t believe I was holding it in my hand! But how long was that going to last?

Somehow, we had to get away. No time to read anything now.

Already the door was being pushed open in spite of Repro’s mountain of furniture.

An arm appeared around the door, then a shoulder …

The door was opening!

Repro grunted and shoved another chair up
to the pile in front of the slowly opening door. He turned around, pushing his weight up against the door. ‘Cal, get out the window,’ he ordered. ‘I can take these guys! Go, now!’

‘I don’t want to hear it!’ I said. ‘They’re going to be through that door in about five seconds and you’re coming with me!’

I was halfway to the window, the precious Riddle folder in my hands, when the door burst open, throwing Repro to the floor.

One of the bodyguards hurtled through the air, coming straight for me.

He tackled me down and our eyes met. It was the guy with the teardrop tattoo! The guy I’d helped the night of the fire-bombing of the casino when he was being beaten up, back in January!

Kelvin!

In that moment of hazy recognition, he hesitated in surprise. His grip momentarily relaxed. I rolled sideways clear of him and scrambled up to the window, straddling the sill, with the Riddle folder clenched between my teeth …

I looked back to see Repro pounce on the teardrop tattoo guy. Even though he’d lied to me about the Singapore championships, Repro had him in what looked like a very strong hold.

‘Get out!’ he yelled as he grappled with his opponent. ‘I can handle this!’

There was a terrible crash of furniture and the door to the study slammed shut again—but I knew it would only take a little while for someone else to get through all the piles of chairs and bookcases and stuff. I grabbed up the silver box and emptied the rest of the silver cachous onto the floor.

‘Cal, what are you doing?! Get out!’ Repro yelled again.

I looked back at him, uncertain whether I should go.

‘Get out!’

Hoping that Repro was going to be OK to deal with whatever came crashing through the door, I threw myself out the window, leaping onto the tree outside.

A quick glance back showed Kelvin skidding on the tiny silver ball bearings that were scattered on the floor. Legs kicking uselessly, he crashed hard on his back.

Repro waved his hands at me, hurrying me away. I couldn’t wait any longer. I took a huge breath, and on the count of three, I made a flying leap from the branches of the tree and hit the ground hard.

I was totally winded. I lay there for a second while the night swirled around me. I felt like an elephant was sitting on me.

Finally the elephant got off my chest and I rolled over onto all fours. I’d bruised myself against the can of capsicum spray in my pocket but somehow I’d kept hold of the folder with the Ormond Riddle in it. My fingers were sweaty around it.

I knew I had no time. I saw by the front stairs that the bulky body of the guy I’d sprayed earlier was just starting to stir—he must have tumbled down and bumped his head on a pillar outside.

Kelvin, or Oriana, would be charging into the garden after me any second. I didn’t have time to worry about Repro. I hoped he could handle himself up there. I got to my feet and started running.

I had the Ormond Riddle in my grasp! It was only a matter of time before I understood the mystery of the Ormond Singularity and what it meant to my family.