The Bloodline Cipher (33 page)

‘And made deals.' Tye shuddered. ‘Sold his soul …'

‘Or
believes
he did,' Jonah said firmly.

The first man smiled. ‘Now the Bloodline Cipher has been decrypted, many new approaches will become possible. A solution to Coldhardt's predicament may yet be found.'

‘He never told us …' Con swallowed. ‘He never said that he was so ill.'

‘That is why I decided to come with you after you broke into Blackland's place in search of the manuscript,' Maya explained. ‘When I learned Coldhardt was involved … It was a chance to study him up close – the son of the father we could not get through to.'

Jonah looked at her. ‘A different kind of bloodline cipher.'

‘If you like,' said Maya. She put her hand to the tattoo on her chest ruefully. ‘Coldhardt's cameras at the safe house allowed him to glimpse this, our symbol. He suspected then I was no ordinary university student, I think. That, together with my knowledge of Nomen Oblitum … Well. He soon grasped the possibilities I represented. Once you had left for Zamboanga, he approached me.'

‘And now it is time to begin his treatment,' said the man on the left. ‘Payment has been agreed and made – three-fifths of his total wealth and assets, so that we may further fund our exploration into the ancient sciences.'

‘With discoveries such as this still waiting to be unearthed, the work may never cease. Coldhardt's wealth will enable us to achieve much …' The first man inclined his head, and his birthmark fell further into shadow. ‘Of course, as business assets, the five of
you
count as a part of that wealth …'

Tye swapped an uneasy look with Jonah, tensed herself for trouble. ‘Meaning?'

‘Meaning Coldhardt would not strike the deal until you'd been captured by Saitou and his associates.' Maya smiled wanly. ‘Technically you were no longer his assets and exempt from inclusion in the deal.'

Con's eyes held the kind of brightness she usually reserved for piles of cash. ‘Then
that's
why he sent us out there?'

‘Son of a bitch,' said Motti quietly. ‘The old man wouldn't sell us after all.'

‘He gives you this.' The first man handed Tye some sheets of folded paper.

‘Why?' she said, taking it. ‘Why not give it to us himself?'

‘Because it is time to part now,' said Maya softly, turning and leading the way from the cave.

‘Now hang on a sec,' said Jonah angrily, ‘you can't just turn your back on us!'

‘We can waste no more time,' said the first man.

‘You have the boat. Take Patch to heal in Zamboanga.' Maya paused. ‘When the time comes for you to renew your acquaintance with Coldhardt, rest assured you will be found.'

‘But – at least – I mean …' Con was staring round in confusion. ‘Why can't we see him now?'

‘Because he has already left,' said Maya, leaving the cave. ‘And now we must follow.'

Tye ran out after them with Jonah, Con and Motti just behind. She saw the speedboat was now empty. A helicopter was disappearing into the distance, while
another had landed further along the tiny strip of beach.

‘Wait!' Con yelled as Maya and her companions crossed quickly to the copter, braving the rotor wash and climbing on board. ‘You can't just …'

‘Go,' whispered Jonah, as the copter took off into the faultless blue sky. The wind had dropped, and all was calm again.

‘Coldhardt split,' said Motti, incredulous. ‘Just like that.'

Tears were rolling down Con's cheeks as she stared after the copters. ‘Never even said goodbye.'

Tye took her hand. ‘That's because he's coming back.'

Con tried to nod bravely but the sobs were already coming. Tye gave her a hug, and Motti came over, clumsily grabbing them both. Jonah piled in to the sweaty, snot-stained embrace, and for a long while they just clung together on the empty beach, until the tears stopped coming and their shaky breaths evened out, like the slow wash of the sea on the shore beside them.

And then Patch's voice floated out from inside the cave. ‘You sods gonna leave me in here all day or what?'

In the Geneva hub, Tye stared at Coldhardt's parting note for the hundredth time. A hastily scrawled list of names, addresses and instructions. No words of kindness or farewell. No thanks. Just a plan of action from boss to employees.

Jonah sat beside her at Coldhardt's computer, his fingers tapping away over the keyboard. For now, it was just the two of them. Motti and Con were keeping Patch company in a Filipino private hospital while he slowly recovered.

It had been four days now, and it seemed that poor Patch's hands had been the worst damaged by the explosion – Motti found it doubtful he would ever pick locks again. Then again, Tye reflected, miracles had been known to happen. Although Con had rejected all calls to wear a PVC nurse's outfit, she
was
letting him fumble with the zips and fasteners on her clothes three times a day – the more he managed to undo, the more he could goggle at. Tye suspected that an incentive like that might see Patch making a full recovery yet.

‘How're you getting on?' Tye asked Jonah.

‘Getting there,' he said distantly, itching the scar on his neck where an astounded Filipino surgeon had
removed the transmitter. ‘I just can't help thinking … All that stuff we learned about Coldhardt and I feel I know less about him now than ever.' He sighed, his fingers tapping over the keys. ‘We don't even know his real name.'

‘Or what's wrong with him,' Tye agreed moodily. ‘I just hope he's being well looked after.'

‘He will be.' Jonah's reassuring smile shifted into something a little more pointed. ‘Who'd risk messing with such a perfect example of a devious mind? The man's a genius!'

The chip in the gold ring that had allowed Saitou to hack into Coldhardt's computer system was, it turned out, a double-edged sword. It was now allowing Jonah a back door into Saitou's own server. And since all the onlookers in the temple had contributed funds to the enterprise and were expecting to receive a percentage of Coldhardt's cash assets, Saitou had their financial records on file as well as his own – allowing Jonah to clean out every last member of the consortium and divert the funds into the Talent's personal bank accounts.

Coldhardt's orders.

A farewell gift to the ‘children' who had given him so much? Or simply not wishing Nomen Oblitum to lay claim to three-fifths of his cut and planning to reclaim the funds at a later date?

In a way, she hoped it was both those things.

Thinking of the NO men, she decided to ask Jonah the question on her mind. ‘Do you miss Maya at all?' she asked falteringly. ‘The Maya you thought you knew, I mean?'

‘Hmm,' said Jonah, smiling. ‘Wonder what the correct answer here would be.'

‘Seriously though. I mean, you could talk to her about all kinds of techy stuff.'

‘I can talk to
you
about all kinds of anything.' He smiled. ‘And besides, I know she was our age, but … she seemed way older. And she had a go at me once for not believing you could hold back aging.'

Tye frowned. ‘Coldhardt sourced a picture of her for her college pass, and she was dressed in 1960s stuff with make-up to match. I'd put it down to her trying out the retro look. Now I'm wondering … what if that picture was actually
taken
in the 1960s?'

Jonah raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean that birthmark of hers might be a
rebirth
mark? Weird how her NO mates had them too, maybe –'

‘Maybe she was just trying out the retro look,' said Tye firmly. Then she half smiled. ‘Speaking of retro, what about Coldhardt in that old picture!'

‘You can knock his fashion sense, but not his business sense – as this little project just proved.' Jonah shut down the computer with a flourish. ‘All done. My last act of thieving.'

‘Oh?' She shot him a look. ‘Going to become a saint on me now, are you?'

‘Nope,' he retorted, smiling into her eyes. ‘But when this little diversion of funds is noticed, there'll be an awful lot of angry people after us.'

‘I get you.' Tye nodded. ‘Best keep a low profile for a bit.'

‘Uh-huh.' Jonah's smile became a grin. ‘Besides, we've just become so mega-stonkingly rich we won't
need to steal, beg or borrow anything again … or not for a long while, anyway.'

Tye tutted and shook her head. ‘Clearly you don't know how quickly I can get through money.'

‘I
want
to know, though. I mean, I want to find out …' Jonah blushed slightly, looked away. ‘Now we're free agents – you and me, Motti, Con, Patch … well. I suppose there's nothing official to keep us all together, but I thought, you and me … If you wanted to, we could maybe get more official. Hang with the others still, but … be
more
together.'

‘Huh?' She frowned. ‘Are you talking in code?'

‘I'm nervous as all hell, throw me a bone here!' He looked at her hopefully. ‘You know what I mean. So is it cool?'

She tutted and shook her head again. ‘Clearly you also don't know just when to shut up and kiss me.'

‘I
want
to know,' he said again, smiling the crooked smile she knew so well and wanted to see always. She leaned in and they kissed, getting into it.

‘Snogging in the boss's chair,' Jonah murmured. ‘What would he say?'

‘Well,
I'm
the boss now, and you'd better not forget.' Tye pulled gently away, eyeing the chair and feeling a little funny. ‘I don't want us to stay here, Jonah … It's Coldhardt's place. And now he's not around.'

Jonah nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then … I suppose we'll have to find our own place.'

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Just like that?'

‘Life's still short, whatever people like Maya may say.' Jonah jumped up from the chair and ran to the lift. ‘What are we waiting for?'

Tye lingered for a few moments, looking around the hub. The cluster of blank TV screens was like a dark eye watching her. The rush of the air con was like a long, unending breath. This place would live on without them. Waiting.

She turned out the lights, and the lift sighed as it bore them upwards.

A few minutes later Jonah led the way across the grounds to where Tye's BMW was parked outside the stables. The car aside, they were leaving all their old belongings and starting again. Only their smokestones were coming with them. Theirs, and Motti's, Con's and Patch's.

Their world may have cracked apart, but family didn't break so easily.

Jonah felt a buzz in his back pocket. ‘Hang on,' he told Tye, and pulled out his mobile. A text had just arrived from the other side of the world. ‘It's Con.'

The message was typically succinct:
You have all the money, yes?

He smiled and texted her back:
We won

As he hit the send key, Tye took his hand, ready to set off again. But Jonah lingered for a moment, taking in the shadowy grounds of the place he'd called home, filing it all to memory: the sheen of the moonlight on wet slates, the outbuildings like neat stone packages tied up with ivy, the dark, silent pattern of the paths and hedgerows. In the distance, the uncertain boundaries of fields and hillsides, fixed beneath the stars in the wide-open night.

Then Jonah felt his phone buzz again. This time it
was a picture message – Motti and Con sitting either side of Patch's hospital bed with goofy smiles and two huge bottles of champagne, while Patch himself was giving a bandaged thumbs-up.

We'll keep some on ice for you
, read the accompanying message.
Come on home
.

‘Home,' Tye murmured, as they walked over to the BMW. ‘Wherever that is.'

‘Finding out could be fun,' said Jonah. ‘Don't you think?'

Tye squeezed Jonah's hand. The two of them kissed, got into the car and drove away into a new morning.

Gratitude is due – to Jill Cole, for patiently enduring the endless late nights and early mornings of the writing process, and for appreciating the twists. To Ele Fountain, Ian Lamb, Suna Cristall, Susannah Nuckey, Georgia Murray, Isabel Ford and Diana Hickman, for all their hard work and support. To Philippa Milnes-Smith, without whom … To Captain Denis Dallaire, copter adviser (and Sand Dalek sculptor). To my dad, Tony Cole, for wanting to read what I've done, and to Mum, Nat, Cassie and Nathan as ever. To Justin Richards, Paul Magrs, Mike Tucker and Jason Loborik for being there. To Linda Chapman for so much help and reassurance. To Dominic Barker for laughs and no mirrors. To Paul Grice and Tony Fleetwood for such a rewarding way to get tinnitus. To Editors, Acid House Kings, Mobius Band, The Postal Service, Snow Patrol, Feist, A Certain Ratio, Feeder, Faces Fall and so many others for informing the mood. To Tobey, for always. And to those who have read the books, and those who have written.

Thanks for coming with me, all of you.

Also by Stephen Cole

Featuring Jonah Wish
Thieves Like Us
The Aztec Code

The Wereling trilogy
Wounded
Prey Resurrection

Copyright © 2008 by Stephen Cole

All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

First published in Great Britain in March 2008 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

E-book edition published in August 2012
by Bloomsbury Books for Young Readers
www.bloomsburyteens.com