The Cartographer (17 page)

So I retraced my steps until I came to the main drain again, and, after making sure that I was not being followed, went to the right. I was pretty sure that this branch was not under a street but under the tea-tree paddock. So I walked along in the dark with my right hand on the wall, and touching my staff to the ground every foot or so to make sure there were no holes to fall into.

After a while I noticed that the drain was climbing steadily and heading around a left-hand bend and I began to be a little worried, as I had gone a long way from the river, and I was still in pitch dark. But one thing I knew was that all I had to do was call and Biscuit would come to me in seconds, so I really had nothing to worry about. Around the bend I finally saw light, and as I came to it I saw that I had reached a shaft, except that this one didn't go straight up, but rose at a steep angle. I was only a few yards from the top and there were little steps cut into the side, so up I went. I soon found I was staring into someone's yard, or so it seemed, as there was nothing but dry grass and bushes to be seen.

I crawled out of the drain, and went forward into the grass for a moment, my plan being to stand up slowly, so as not to be spotted by the person who lived there. But before I could stand up I saw just a few inches from my face a stone slab that had some familiar magic signs on it, and these words in gold letters:
HERE LIES JOEL
,
BELOVED SON OF JUDITH AND FESTUS FALK
.

I stood up. I was back in the old cemetery, right by the tunnel I had slid down the night I found the old shack. I was standing at the back door of the Kidnapper's Hideout.

I thought I felt someone pulling my foot and whipped my head around to see if it was the kidnapper, but there was no one there. So after taking a long look down the shaft, and having an even longer listen, I climbed back down the stairs, all the way to where I knew I had slid the night I was knocked out.

At the bottom there was enough light for me to see a little way. There was a bit of a mess a few yards down the drain and I found the shoe the kid had kicked off, which I pocketed. When I reached the hideout, and I'd satisfied myself that the kidnapper was not there, but was out looking for kids to drag to his lair, I climbed up the few steps to the ledge and took out the Ritmeester box. There was rubbish everywhere, so I had no trouble putting it out of sight after giving it a quick wipe. I also left the kid's shoe, just for good measure. I had already decided that if the murderer jumped me I would run back the way I had come. Now that I knew how far the fall was from the drain outlet to the pool, I realised I was lucky to be alive, so that way was definitely out. And if I ran into the murderer, well, I had the shotgun.

I retraced my steps to my faithful Detective Dog, who was pretty happy to see me again. ‘Let's go, Blarney Biscuit,' I said, to see if he liked it, and he did.

That afternoon, me and Granddad went to the ponies at Caulfield. I figured that there'd be no danger of running into
the murderer, as that had happened over at Moonee Valley, which was miles away. Even so, I kept an eye out for him and stayed close to Granddad. I was relieved when Granddad said that we'd be leaving as he had to see a man about a dog, because the nervous tension was starting to get me down. Last port of call was the Mens, so in I ducked to syphon off the few gallons of racecourse lemonade I had drunk.

When I turned around to leave, who should I bump into but my nemesis, the murderer from Kipling Lane. I'd heard people say it was a small world, but I'd always regarded the expression as a bit of a joke. I think that if I hadn't just shaken the snake, I would have peed myself on the spot. As it was, he hadn't put much planning into his trip to the toilet, as the place was full of punters at the time, and all he could say was: ‘It
is
you!' What happened then was a bit of a blur. He grabbed me by the sleeve and I screamed ‘Help!' about twenty times and pushed him hard against a couple of blokes who were standing at the urinal. The blokes grabbed the murderer, and he let go of me. Now, the pushing thing was something we occasionally did at school; and even with kids, there were always consequences. So I took off, hoping the murderer would end up the worse for wear. Somewhere down the concourse, I found Granddad, and we headed for the exit.

‘Granddad, I saw him again, in the toilet. He grabbed me —'

‘Who?'

‘The murderer,' I said in a hushed voice, as we were surrounded by the kind of blokes who tend to get skittish around certain kinds of talk.

‘Yer can't see him everywhere we go, boy —'

‘He's always at the races, Granddad. Come on, let's hurry.' And I started pulling him along by the sleeve.

‘Take it easy. I think yer just seein' things, that's all —'

‘Granddad —'

‘Maybe we should talk to that doctor again —'

That shut me up. But I made a mental note to scratch the races from my fixtures.

So off we went. As it turned out, Granddad's main job for the day was to have a couple of beers with Blarney Barney and some blokes who were ‘plainclothesmen' — not exactly the same as coppers, or police, whom Granddad had often told me he wouldn't piss on, even if they were on fire, but still rozzers, that much I knew. And one look at their crumpled grey suits, extra-wide striped ties and badly bent hats, and you could see why everyone called them plainclothesmen. It seemed to me that these plainclothesmen knew Granddad pretty well as they called him ‘Arch', which only his friends called him. They called Blarney Barney ‘Barn', which Granddad had once told me was what only his closest mates were allowed to call him, so all I can say is that if that is supposed to be funny, I don't get it.

We were all in the main bar of the Prince of Wales, which was one of our locals, and Granddad was taking his time knocking off a half-and-half, him not being much of a drinker. I waited until he had gone to the toilet before putting my plan into action. I put down my lady's waist of raspberry vinegar and lemonade and pulled up my sleeve so that everyone in the place could see my flashy new watch with its shiny metal band. Fair dinkum, I thought the cops' eyes were going to fall out and splosh into their beers. Granddad had once told me that the quickest way to get a copper's full attention was to offer him a beer, or a look at some hot goods.

They both put down their glasses and looked at the watch very closely and one of them grabbed my wrist and took off
the watch, without even asking me. Barney jumped up, and I thought he was going to clock the bloke who had me by the wrist, but the other bloke quietly held up his hand.

‘Now, Barn, keep your shirt on. The boy doesn't mind if I look at his lovely new watch, do you, son?'

‘'Course not,' I say.

‘So did your granddad give it to you as a present, then?'

‘Nope. He hasn't even seen it yet. I found it weeks ago while I was 'splorin'.'

It was another white lie, but I'm sure I heard somewhere — from Uncle Maury, I think — that a lie doesn't count if you tell it to the police.

‘Tell the truth, yer little bastard,' chimes in the quiet one. ‘You pinched it off some derro while he was asleep under the Church Street bridge, didn't yer?'

‘What's a derro?' I ask, trying to look like some kind of child saint.

‘Now hang on a sec,' says the main rozzer to his mate. ‘Where'd you find it, then?'

‘In the paddock down past the old cemetery.'

‘You bullshit us, son, and you'll wish you'd never been born.'

Jesus
, I thought to myself,
I reckon I'm well past that point
.

‘Fellers,' says Barney, ‘I've known this young bloke all his life, and I reckon he's as straight as you and me.'

They all looked at each other and the conversation in the bar suddenly went quiet, leaving only the sound of Bill Collins calling the last race at Caulfield. Just at that moment Granddad returned and stopped dead in his tracks.

‘What's up, boys?' he asks, with a frown in his voice.

‘Hey, Arch, the boy says he found this down at the old cemetery.'

‘Well then, if that's what he says, it's true,' says Granddad, looking at me as if he's unhappy with me, but not wishing to show the others.

‘It was the kidnapper's,' I say, trying to keep the conversation alive. ‘He had tons of 'em, and he dropped this one. I heard him torturing that kid in the drain — that's what he does down there. I heard him say he was going to burn him. I was right there, in the drain.'

There was a very long silence, which I didn't like the sound of. I pushed on.

‘And he did, too. But the kid got away. He ran in one direction and I ran in another.'

‘Are you talking about the Harrigan kid?' says the quiet cop. He was pretty quick on the uptake.

‘Yeah, the Harrigan kid,' I say.

‘And you're the kid who took him home?' says the talkative one.

‘I don't know anything about that,' I say, smooth as custard.

‘Well, perhaps you should come with us, and we'll find out what you do know.'

‘Now hold yer horses, fellers,' says Granddad, and I take advantage of the sudden tension, which was not unexpected.

‘I could show you,' I say, in my helpful voice.

‘Wait a minute,' says the quiet cop. ‘Why didn't you go to the police? If this is the bloke we're looking for, he probably got away because of you.'

I was ready for this.

‘He saw my face. He said he knew me and he was going to cut my throat, and my mum's, if I told anyone. Anyway, the kid got home all right, didn't he?'

The quiet copper stopped to think about that, and you could
tell by the look on his face that that was the first time that day he'd had to use his brain.

The other one, the boss, said: ‘You better show us. Arch, you come too. Not you, Barney.'

It was a short ride from the Prince to the cemetery, and it wasn't dark yet, so I knew we didn't need to worry about zombies. I took them to the back entrance to the kidnapper's hideout and pointed into the dark shaft.

‘You'll need torches,' I say, always willing to help a policeman.

‘Right,' said the copper. ‘We'll take care of this. Arch, you and the kid go home. We'll get that grandson of yours on the force one day.'

We left, with Granddad hanging onto my jumper as if he was planning on murdering me as soon as we were out of sight.

‘It's all right, Granddad,' I said. ‘I had to do it. I saw him set fire to that kid: he tried to kill him. And he nearly got me too: I nearly drowned.'

‘For Gawd's sake, what were you doin' down there, boy?'

‘Just 'splorin'. But I found the bloke's hideout and then he turned up with this kid and set fire to him. Me and the kid got away, and I took him home.'

‘Jesus Christ, so it
was
you. But even if they get that bloke, he'll say he never saw the kid —'

‘I'll say I saw him —'

‘His brief'd tear you to shreds, son. 'Specially when he finds out who yer Granddad is. Christ, son, you're in this right up to your eyebrows, aren't you? I'll have to have a good think about it.'

We walked the short distance home in silence. The house was empty, as Mum had an afternoon shift. We went down to my room, which had become our secret talking place.

‘Granddad, what if the p'lice found the kid's missing shoe in the bloke's hideout?'

‘That'd make a big difference. Will they find the shoe?'

‘Yeah, and they'll find the box of watches I showed you, too. I put 'em down there this morning, in the bloke's things.'

‘Christ Almighty.'

‘Granddad, he set fire to that kid right in front of me.'

‘Jesus, you'll be the death of me, boy. I thought you wanted to lay low, because of that other thing you saw.'

‘You mean you believed me about that?'

‘Well, I wouldn't go that far. This is a pretty rough area. God knows what you saw. You'd be better off staying out of the drains and not sticking your nose into other people's business. If you want to get by, you have to play it safe.'

‘But I had to save that kid, Granddad. Because of —'

I couldn't talk, but he said it for me.

‘What? Because of Tom?'

I nodded, and the next minute I was shaking, and crying like a baby. No matter how hard I tried to breathe it wouldn't work properly. I thought I could feel another one of my turns coming on. And not even Granddad could help me there. I knew straightaway it was the white lies: I'd overdone them.

‘Sometimes I think it's going to happen to me too. That bloke'll get me.'

‘Boy, don't talk like that — they'll catch the bastard.'

‘No, the murderer.'

‘Him too — they'll get 'em both.'

‘And you'll be left with nothin'.'

‘That's not goin' ter happen.'

I reached under my pillow and got a hat, the one that was covered in national flags.

‘Granddad, I want you to have something. You don't have to wait until I'm … you know, gone. You can have it right now.'

‘Ah, boy, not yer favourite 'at.'

I placed it in his hand.

‘It's Tom's.'

‘Ah.'

 

Mum was not impressed when the police came to our house, if impressed means happy. She and D ad felt the same when it came to the police. It seemed all they wanted to do was ask me a few questions about the man who lived down the drain. But I had nothing new to tell them. Anyway, Granddad said they didn't need to gather any evidence from people like me. He said the police caught the bloke down the drain and he confessed to having kidnapped Ted Harrigan's kid, which did not surprise anyone as he probably had a chest full of broken ribs at the time.

‘He'll probably get life,' said Granddad, looking at me as if he was looking right through me.

‘It's his fault,' was all I could think of saying.

‘You could have been next,' Granddad said. ‘What if he had been down there when you went back?'

Now that he put it like that it seemed different than when I'd done it. It always seemed different later on.

‘But the kid —'

‘I know. The bloke's a bastard.'

But I didn't feel good about anything that had happened, not about what I had done, or the way I had put one over the police, or the way I had lied to Granddad, or any of it. I could see that Granddad had been pretty worried when he found out what I had done, and I felt especially bad about that. If anyone
got anything out of the whole caper, it was the map. The map now had practically as much to show of my adventures below ground as above ground. And since the Man in the Drain would probably end up in Pentridge — in Hell Division, Mum said — I was free to explore the drains again, as free as the breeze, as the song goes.

First stop was the hideout. I waited until I heard from Granddad that the kidnapper was well and truly in jail before going back, but of course, go back I did. It was just as though he had never left, though the police had turned everything inside out or upside down. I found a few things I decided to keep, including the bloke's own bag, which was bigger than mine and a lot better. Now I had two bags. His hurricane lamp was still there, and a tin of kero with a screw top, so I took that too — no sense in wasting it, and, besides, I might need it when I started my own hideout. Every superhero needed one. I mean, I had a dog, and a staff, and contacts in the police, just like the other superheroes, so why not a hideout? Also, I finally got some torch batteries.