March (8 page)

‘The cards on the waiter’s tray add up to a blackjack, a 21, which could mean something related to the word “blackjack”, or maybe the
number 21. Plus we think Dad was trying to hint at a riddle because of this,’ I said, adding the fifth drawing to the line-up.

‘And don’t forget the Roman dude,’ Boges reminded me. ‘We don’t know too much about him just yet—except that it could have something to do with importance, or history, or someone in power—but we do know that people are demanding answers about the Ormond Riddle. So far, on the Ormond Riddle, we know that it’s hard to
track down. It sounds like it was some sort of rhyme or poem, but I still haven’t been able to find anything on the words. Your dad could also have even been trying to say something about the numbers 4, 2 and 3, from the Sphinx riddle—’

‘Yes, what goes on 4 legs, then 2 legs, then 3 legs?’

‘Exactly, a human being. Or he could have been suggesting Oriana de la Force—remember what I told you about the psycho female Sphinx? Half-woman, half-lion?’

I nodded, and spread out the last three sketches. ‘And what about these?’

‘We have the “5” in the oval above the door, too,’ said Boges.

‘Yes, and let’s not forget this,’ I said pulling the transparent sheet of paper out of the bottom of the sleeve in my bag.

‘Can you look these names up for me?’

A noise from somewhere alerted me. I frowned. ‘Did you hear that?’ I hissed.

I went to the crack near the door and squinted through, checking outside. Everything seemed quiet.

‘There’s nothing out here. Are you sure you weren’t followed?’

‘As sure as I can be. I changed my look twice on the way here,’ he said, pulling out a pair of dark sunglasses and the daggiest-looking hat you’ve ever seen—the sort of hat that really old guys wear when they go fishing, made out of canvas or something.

I picked up the glasses and put the hat on and went to the cracked mirror in the old bathroom. Every time my reflection looked back at me, I gave myself a shock.

‘Can I keep these?’ I asked.

‘Be my guest,’ said Boges. ‘Cal? You’re looking a little intense over there. You OK?’

I looked away from my reflection and over to Boges. His round face crinkled into a frown that I knew too well, where the two lines above his nose met and deepened into one.

‘I can’t stop thinking about the kid I saw at the basketball courts that day,’ I said.

Boges let out a big sigh.

‘I’m serious, Boges. He was my double. I
know it doesn’t make sense, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.’

‘Dude, you’ve been under a lot of stress. Maybe it
was
some sort of hallucination. It can happen, you know. You’ve been through a helluva lot in the last couple of months. No-one could blame you for making a mistake.’

‘I know what I saw, and I saw
me
. My face staring back at me.’ Boges looked unconvinced. ‘He was real! I’ve heard that everybody has a double—’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard a lot of stupid stuff, too. It’s not true,’ said Boges. ‘It’s just one of those urban myths they make up. Like crocodiles in the sewers.’

‘I know what I saw. A kid that was identical to me. Like my twin.’

‘Dude, get a grip. You don’t have a twin.’

‘And I’ve always had this dream,’ I began, knowing that if Boges already thought I was nuts, I’d have nothing to lose by telling him this, ‘… actually it’s not a dream, it’s a nightmare, and it’s been around for as long as I can remember. There’s this white toy dog and a baby screaming … and, for some reason, they’ve always scared me more than anything else.’

I gripped the sides of the sink with my
hands and looked again at my reflection. ‘The dreams seem to be getting worse,’ I continued. ‘The other night I had it again only this time I was running through this house of mazes, like some messed-up funhouse, trying to find the crying baby. And then when I finally found him, crouched, sobbing in a corner, hugging the white toy dog, he turned to look up at me … and he had
my
face!’

Boges frowned. ‘Listen. No matter what happens, what you think you see, what you dream,
this
,’ he banged on the drawings spread in front of him, ‘is the main game.’

‘I know you think it’s weird!’ I shouted, frustrated that he was being so dismissive.

‘It’s true, I do think it’s weird! I don’t know what it means. I can’t explain it, but I just think that getting to the bottom of
this
,’ he banged on the drawings again, ‘will get you out of this mess you’re in. Discovering the truth about the Ormond Singularity, the Riddle and the Angel. That’s what you need to focus on if you want to clear your name and get your family, and your life, back.’

‘That’s if we ever
do
get to the bottom of it,’ I said. ‘That’s if Vulkan Sligo and Oriana de la Force don’t get there first.’

Boges whacked me on the back like he does
when he’s trying to cheer me up.

‘Dude, you’ve stayed safe so far. You’ve got me on your side. Your dad was
relying
on you to solve this.’ He lowered his voice, very serious again. ‘Maybe the crazy guy on the street on New Year’s Eve had a
real
message for you.’

‘I’ve been taking him quite seriously!’ I said with a half-laugh. ‘His warning has probably turned out to be the most honest thing any stranger has said to me lately. I just wish the 365 days were over already!’

I slid down against the wall, landing in an uncomfortable squat.
Who the hell was that guy anyway? And how would he have known anything about Dad?

‘I’ve been doing a lot of research on the net,’ said Boges, interrupting my thoughts, ‘and I found a lot of references to the Ormond Riddle. But that’s all they are. Just references. Like I said before, I can’t find the
words
of the Riddle. Not anywhere. And one of the websites suggested that the words of the Riddle have been lost. So I don’t know what we’re going to do.’

‘The words of the Riddle—they have to be somewhere,’ I said, ‘even if they’re not on the net. Rafe had written a note about it. He must know something.’

‘I don’t think that proves anything. Just that he knows the name of it.’

Boges pointed to the drawing of the Sphinx again.

‘You have to get to your great-uncle to see if he knows something.’

‘Yeah, Great-uncle Bartholomew,’ I said. ‘I’ve gotta get out of the city. Get to his place at Mount Helicon. I’ve been meaning to do that ever since I snuck back to the house to get his address that night. If anyone knows anything about our family secrets it’ll be him. He might know the words of the Riddle or at least know where we can find them. And he might be able to tell me more about the great-aunt that Dad mentioned once or twice.’

Boges scratched his head and nodded. ‘So what’s your uncle like?’

‘I’m not really sure,’ I said, trying to think back to the last time I saw him. ‘When I was little, we all drove out to visit him at his place in the country, but I hardly recall anything about it. I think the only reason I remember him at all is because Dad was always talking about the awesome plane he was building.’

‘He was building an aeroplane?’ Boges asked, clearly impressed. ‘Awesome!’

‘Yeah, he spent all his money and his time
on it, Dad also used to say.’

‘Well he must have finished it by now, right? If you’re lucky, he might even take you on a joy flight!’

‘I’ll be happy as long as I make it to his place alive, and he doesn’t want to call the cops when he realises who his visitor is.’

‘There’s only one way to find out how he’ll react. You’ve really gotta get out of town, dude.’

That should be easy, I thought, with every cop in the state looking for me.

11 MARCH

296 days to go …

Boges was carrying his laptop bag and wearing aviator sunglasses and a cool-looking grey fedora when we met again. Beside him I felt like a complete dag wearing the old canvas hat and big glasses.

It didn’t really bother me though, it was just so good to be walking alongside my friend again in public. Nobody seemed to be taking any notice of us, but that didn’t mean I was about to let my guard down.

We turned the corner, heading for the large library building, with its white columns and cool, shaded areas.

‘Some weird chick’s been hanging round my place,’ said Boges, as we made our way up the stairs. ‘I’ve noticed her a couple of times now, just wandering outside on the street. She’s definitely
not a local.’

Alarm bells started going off in my brain. ‘What does she look like?’ I asked.

‘Sort of cool. Sort of goth, but not exactly. Sort of, drifty … Hard to say.’

‘Eyes?’ I asked.

‘Two of them,’ said Boges, glancing at me. ‘She also seemed to have thin, silver ribbons through her dark hair, and tiny bells on her skirt.’

‘That would be Winter,’ I said.

Boges gave me a hard look. ‘Why would Winter be hanging round my place?’ he asked. ‘Is she spying on me?’

I tried to brush his question aside.

‘Maybe you should ask her next time,’ I said.

Boges started deleting the junk messages that were clogging my blog. A lot of people had contacted me since I last checked, but there was nothing too exciting in there; nothing that was going to really help me out of my situation.

A couple of the messages drew my attention more than the others:

My spirits lifted a little as I read the words of support. Even the message from Maryanne Helfgott made me feel better.

Boges rolled his eyes when he read her message. ‘You have quite a following. You should record an album. Seriously, you’re a star. I could do back-up vocals for you? Cash in on some of your fame? What do you think, huh?’

‘I don't think so, buddy.’

Next we started searching for the Ormond Riddle—just in case something new had come online.

‘“Kilkenny”, that’s the name of Great-uncle Bartholomew’s property in Mount Helicon,’ I said.

‘He must have named it after Kilkenny in Ireland. Here’s something,’ said Boges, and I leaned closer to read what he had up on the screen.

‘Big deal,’ I said. ‘A riddle with eight lines. Could be
Three Blind Mice,
’ I groaned. ‘That doesn’t help us. Like all the other connections,’ I said, ‘I think for a minute we’re getting somewhere and then I realise we’re back where we
started—still in the dark and still totally confused.’

‘Come on,’ said Boges, thumping me on the back, ‘cheer up. We’re going to work this out. We have to.’

We spent a little more time searching for something about the Ormond Singularity but we couldn’t find anything. The problem with search engines is that you have to know what you’re looking for—know what questions to ask. And we didn’t know. All we had were the notes we’d made about the drawings and the drawings themselves. All we had were bits of paper.

‘Try “Piers Ormond”,’ Boges suggested. ‘We should check up on him. He might have been some sort of hero, to get a memorial like that.’

I looked at Boges and he looked at me. ‘We sorta knew that already,’ I said.

‘But we should make a note of it.’

More paper piling up, I thought. Like Oriana de la Force’s desk. She’d had piles of paper and files. But she was a lawyer and that was hardly unusual. We needed
action
.

Boges looked at his mobile, checking the time. ‘I have to start heading home. Besides, you should go, too—school will be out soon and this place will start to get busy. I’ll check up the transparency names later, OK.’

He was about to put his mobile away, when he started scrolling through his photographs. ‘I nearly forgot. I took this for you. Your mum let me go with her the other night.’

He turned the screen of the mobile to face me. It was a close-up picture of my little sister’s pale face, looking as if she were asleep. Her hair was spread out over the pillow, and a transparent, narrow tube snaked up her nose. Slowly, I took it from him, staring at it for a long moment. I felt my stomach lurch at the sight of her. She looked so small and so helpless.