The Betrayal of Bindy Mackenzie (46 page)

FRIDAY

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
Friday, lunchtime
The relief is great. At last, it is done.

Of course, I behaved like a fool before I did it.

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
This morning, I climbed the steps to the top balcony, and waited outside Mr Botherit's office until he emerged to go and teach a class. Then I slipped into his office.

I sat at his computer. I seemed to be in a trance.

For, you see, this is what I was thinking:
it is a message.
If the password is Finnegan's name in reverse, it is a message from Finnegan to me. The message says this:
use the password, use my name, reclaim your own good name!
The message urges me:
just download the outlines of some assignments and exams, and you will find your way hack to your position! Number 1.
Finnegan, my buddy, trying to send me there.

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
I sat at Mr Botherit's computer, looking at the icons on his screen, hazy in the light from the office window. But there it was. An icon of an open scroll, with the word
Enlightenment
across it. That was the name the lawyer had mentioned, the name of the software. I clicked on the icon.

Password? it demanded.

With trembling fingers I typed it in: Ed Nolbanagennif.

It won't work,
I thought,
it's probably another spelling
—
it's Edna, like I thought, It's
—And then I hit Enter and I was in.

I was in,
as they say in the movies. The screen was awash with bright colours and tantalising options.

I grabbed the mouse, clicked LOG OFF, leapt from Mr Botherit's chair, ran out of his office door, and burst into tears.

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
I cannot believe how close I came to cheating.

As it was, I may have come close to getting caught: as I rushed from Mr Botherit's office, I saw Try down the end of the balcony. I'm not sure if she noticed me or not. Certainly, she was looking my way.

But I swivelled, and sprinted to the library.

And here I have been in my shadow seat, pretty well ever since. The sun is warm today but there is a chill in the shadows, and I huddle around my computer and my fingers try to type.

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
As soon as I got here, I took out my phone, deleted seven or eight messages from my mother asking me to call her, and telephoned the lawyer. Surprisingly, he answered at once.

I told him that I had found a transcript of the words spoken by the two computer programmers as they passed me by. I explained that I like to type transcripts. He was taken aback.

But I did not feel proud, I felt ashamed.
I had not phoned before because I wanted to use the password for myself
. I knew that now—the coincidence of Finnegan's name being the password in reverse. That was only the excuse I had been waiting for.

The Philosophical Musings of Bindy Mackenzie
At any rate, I read out the transcript to the lawyer, and he made some interested sounds. He wanted to know if I had printed it out or saved it to disk or shown it around. ‘It's highly confidential,' he explained. ‘That's one important document you've got there.' I felt some stirrings of comfort. He wants me to bring my laptop into his office on Monday.

I ran into the library and printed out a copy of the transcript, even though he didn't want me to. He was a fool— anything could happen to my laptop! You should always have a backup.

Good grief. Do you know who that is?

That is Auntie Veronica!

Walking through the front gate of my school!!!

A Memo from Bindy Mackenzie

 

Dear Everyone,
I am going to give you this before the debate tonight. I hope, once you have read it, you will understand why it was easier for me to write than to explain this in person.

Auntie Veronica came to the school at lunchtime today, and took me to a café with her for the afternoon. She had news.

She had heard from the doctor. He had some of my test results back. And it seems there are traces of arsenic in my system: more than there should be.

And that explains so much of what's been happening this year. The doctor gave Auntie Veronica a list of symptoms of chronic arsenic poisoning, and they include things like feeling physically and mentally exhausted, and sick, and numb, and getting headaches, and it can even cause these callouses on my palms that I thought were from the rowing machine. Also, you can get Visual disturbances' and ‘impaired mental activity'. No wonder you all turned into animals.

Auntie Veronica had spent some time talking to the doctor, my mother, and the doctor again. The three of them think they know the answer: I have been going to an old house that my dad owns. It's on Gilbert Road in Castle Hill. And I've been tearing down the wallpaper for him. My mum has been to the house before too, and remembers that the
earliest layer of wallpaper is green, and could date as far back as the 1870s.

Well, at that time, people sometimes made wallpaper green by putting arsenic in the paint.

They're going to check this, of course, and I have to go to the hospital tomorrow to get more tests done.

But, as you can see, there's no mystery.

It's just that my dad's been poisoning me.

Oh, and Auntie Veronica also let me know that my parents have decided to separate. My mother's been trying to reach me for the last few days, but I didn't know why and haven't returned her calls. She's going to tell me all about it tomorrow.

My friends, you were right about so much.

See you all after the debate tonight. And thanks for all your work—you're all amazingly smart and very special.

Lots of love,
Bindy

Dear Finnegan,
When you said goodbye this evening, and pressed that envelope into my hand, I had a curious feeling that I would never see you again.

But that is idle foolishness.

It is now about 9.00 pm, and I am writing to you on my laptop while sitting in Mr Botherit's office.

It was kind of you to come to the debating semi-final tonight—I couldn't believe the whole FAD group turned up, including Try!

You giving me that envelope made me think of writing to you now. I want to tell you what's been going on.

Tonight, Emily almost missed our debate. We have an hour preparation beforehand, and Ernst and I were alone for that hour. We wrote Emily's speech for her, panicking that we'd have to forfeit. But she sprinted in at the last moment.

As you know, when the debate was over, we all hung around in the classroom, up here on the top balcony. You gave me your letter, and left.

Mrs Lilydale appeared beside me. Together, we watched you hurry from the room.

‘Who is that nice young man?' she said. I explained that you were Finnegan Blonde, a new boy this year.

Gradually, people began to leave. Teachers and parents drifted away. Sergio suggested we go to the Blue Danish to celebrate, and offered to drive me home afterwards. Auntie Veronica and Uncle Jake asked to speak with Try. The three of them stepped onto the balcony.

That left only the FAD group, and Ernst von Schmerz, in the classroom.

Immediately, the others gathered close around me.

It seemed they were in a frenzy.

Finnegan, I'm very sorry but they think you have been poisoning me this year. You see, I've been sick for a lot of the year, and today I discovered that there's arsenic in my body.

They think you've been giving me the arsenic. This is why:

I didn't believe a word of what they're saying. I know you're not the kind of person to murder me. Besides, the doctor thinks the arsenic probably comes from wallpaper I've been taking down for my father. But no! The FAD group would not accept that. They're sure it's more sinister. Besides which, I started getting sick
before
I started working on the wallpaper.

I told them it was irrelevant that your name doesn't come out on any Queensland lists. Maybe you don't have your drivers' licence, I said. (Although you drive as if you do.) Maybe you've changed your name? Also, I explained what you had said to me a few weeks ago, that you're doing an independent study with Mrs Lilydale for your Ancient History class. That's why Toby and Sergio saw you in her office.

But then I stopped.

Finnegan, Mrs Lilydale
asked me who you were
tonight.
Who is that nice young man
? Surely she would know you if she'd been working with you . . .

What are you doing in her office?

I did not say this to the others—anyway, I didn't get a chance. Emily had something to say. It seemed she had been frantic to speak, but had waited for her moment. She had an important announcement.

‘There is no such lawyer,' she breathed, dramatically, ‘as Blake Elroy.'

That is the name of a lawyer I have spoken with about an argument about computer software that I overheard last year.

Emily had asked her parents, who are lawyers, to check on Mr Elroy's firm for me. They said there was no such firm. This afternoon, Emily had travelled into the city, to the office where I had met with the lawyer, to find out what was going on. That is why she had run late for the debate.

The office was completely empty.

Now, I admit I was somewhat shocked by this. I had spoken to Mr Elroy just this morning.

‘He must have moved offices,' I said. ‘That place was a dump!'

But Emily was insistent. Mr Elroy does not exist.

Now the group was hysterical. There was something illegal, they said, about the software. It must be more than a copyright dispute. I must have overheard something vital. It was a fake lawyer and a fake meeting, set up to find out what I knew. And you have been planted in the school to eliminate me as a witness. It was so clear to them! (They see too many movies.)

‘Think,' said Astrid. ‘Is there any connection between Finnegan and this software?'

And then it came to me.

Finnegan, just last night I discovered that the password used at Ashbury to get access to that very software is
your name in reverse.

Is that a coincidence? An amazing coincidence? Or is there a connection?

Once again, however, I laughed at them. I took out my transcript of the conversation I had overheard, to prove it contained nothing vital.

I gave the transcript to Ernst, who had been listening to all this with serene bemusement. He's a computer expert like you.

At that moment, Auntie Veronica and Uncle Jake leaned back into the classroom to say goodbye. Try approached us. She was looking at me with concern.

‘I wonder if you and I can have a chat?' she said. She suggested the others go into Castle Hill. She and I would join them shortly.

I left my schoolbag, keys, notes and the letter from you, still unopened, behind, but brought my laptop with me. As you know, it is always on my shoulder.

The others whispered, ‘We'll talk more later,' as they walked along the top balcony, saying goodbye.

Try suggested we not waste any time. As Mr Botherit's office is on the top balcony, and the door was open, she led me in here.

And that is where I am right now.

Try asked me to wait a moment while she took a phone call out on the balcony. I can hear the low murmur of her voice. She's taking a long time!

Oh, the door.

—

It's me again. Still here in Mr Botherit's office.

Try came in for a second and then stepped straight back out to take another call. I've been waiting for at least half an hour! Still, I don't mind so much as I feel like I'm talking to you. Although, Mr Botherit must have had garlic on his lunch today. I think I can smell it in his office! And why is it so cold in here? I'm shivering so much it's hard to type.

My aunt and uncle had told Try about my health, and my family situation. That's why she wanted to talk to me. She was just offering support, saying I could talk to her whenever I wanted to.

Now I wish she would hurry. I can't hear her voice on the balcony any more. She's going to drive me in to the Blue Danish now, and I don't want to miss the others. I wonder if I should go home though? I don't feel that well.

I can't believe how thirsty I am. And I'm a bit short of breath—seriously, it's getting—and my head!

The strangest thing, Finnegan.

I'm staring at the window, which of course is black with night and misty reflections. It's a cold night out there.

I'm staring at the window and I
think
what I see is this:

Only in reverse.

As if someone had written it in the mist on the outside of the window.

It's my favourite formula. Wait! But it's wrong. It says 8
ac
instead of 4
ac
! Who would do that? All the trouble of climbing—and then to get it wrong. I must look into this. I'll just—oh, but my stomach really hurts.

It's—

My head, Finnegan, is so—

You can't even
breathe
in here—

Sorry, I can't really type—I just tried to open the door to get some air and it's locked.

My Ventolin doesn't help at

Finnegan, I really,

Finnegan,

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