January (10 page)

‘For the last time …’ someone started to say.

‘I thought you just told the little punk that we had all the time in the world.’

‘Shut up, Kelvin!’

‘Tell us everything you know about the Ormond Riddle and the Ormond Angel.’

‘What are you talking about?! Nothing! I know nothing about either of them! You have to let me go!’

But they were relentless. On and on they demanded answers. I rolled around, on the floor, being pushed and kicked and shoved. My hands were still tied and I was still trapped behind the hessian sack. I was sweating, panting, and everything was muffled.

I told them I had to go to the toilet. One of them led me to the bathroom, pulled the sack off my head and slammed the door shut. ‘Tell me when you’re done,’ he yelled from outside before bursting into a fit of laughter—probably on realising how much I’d struggle having my hands tied behind me.

I looked around but there was no way out.
There weren’t any windows or vents. I tried to mentally take down notes about the space I was in and then I flushed the toilet with my elbow. Before I could yell out, the door swung open, the sack was thrown over me again, and I was dragged back for more questioning.

‘Your father gave you a map, didn’t he.’ It was spoken like a statement, not a question.

‘No,’ I said. ‘My father did not give me a map. I don’t know anything about a map. A map for what?’

‘Your father—’

‘My father has been dead for over six months!’ I yelled. ‘He couldn’t even speak by the time he came back from Ireland! How the hell could he have given me a map! Figure it out already—you’re wasting your time on me! I don’t have anything you want!’

In the silence that followed my outburst, I could hear a whispered conversation going on among my captors. I caught some of the words. It sounded like these people had been at the conference in Ireland. They must have heard about the Ormond Riddle then. And the Ormond Singularity—whatever it was.

Without any warning, I was dragged down a
hallway
and shoved into a small room, not much bigger than a cupboard. I was leaning over to shake off the sack, when a heavy blow to the back of my head floored me.

10 JANUARY

356 days to go …

I was lost in some strange, black and painful dream world. Faint voices floated around me.

‘We’ve already wasted enough time on him. He doesn’t know anything.’

‘He’s useless. We should just let him go.’

‘But we’ve got to get rid of him!’

‘Throw him off the Gap?’

They were going to kill me! Throw me off a cliff
!

‘Can’t you see he’s more helpful to us alive than dead?’

‘But he could ID us. We don’t have a choice. He has to go.’

‘No. We need him alive.’

The voices slowly faded in and out. I lay on the floor trying hard to stay alert, fighting the heaviness in my head. I tried to focus on what the voices were
saying. It was all so hazy. I was feeling around for the walls to try and prop myself up, when the door suddenly opened. A dark, blurry figure leaned in towards me …

Slowly I woke up. I had no idea how long I’d been out for, but figured it must have been a good few hours—it was starting to get light. I didn’t know if the voices I’d heard had been real or just part of some delirious unconsciousness. They felt like a distant memory. Had someone been in here, too? I wondered. What had happened?

My shoulder was throbbing and I guessed I must have bashed it hard on something when I was knocked out before. It took me a while to clear my head and get my balance. I shook the sack off and had a look around.

Whether the voices were real or not, I had to find a way to break out of there.

I’d been imprisoned in a sort of closet, a tiny room where cleaning things were stored. I could barely move with all the mops, buckets and junk covering the shelves and floor.

As my eyes adjusted, I noticed a skylight in
the roof. I desperately looked around for a way to get up there, but first I had to free my hands. I needed something sharp.

I had a plan. I pressed my ear against the door and listened carefully for signs of movement on the other side.

Silence.

In the doorway, a broken tile jutted out. Its edge was rough and sharp. I turned around and positioned my tied hands over it, then began rubbing them back and forth, trying to cut through the rope.

It was painful leaning back in that position, especially with my aching shoulder, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t cut the rope without cutting my hands too.

It hurt, but the plan was working.

My hands were free. I looked up again at the skylight. It seemed impossibly high, but I had to try and get up there. I quickly upturned a stack of mop buckets, steadied them, and then using the corners of the walls to help me, I climbed up on top.

Crouching uncomfortably, and supported by the
walls, I slowly straightened up. I couldn’t afford to fall—the sound of all those crashing buckets would bring my captors running, for sure. This had to work.

For a second I thought I heard something outside but it might have simply been the ringing in my throbbing head.

They were back! I had to move fast.

‘There’s nothing to connect him with us,’ I heard a man say. ‘We have to keep him here, for now, but later we’ll let him run then grab him when we need him again.’

Were they going to hunt me down like hounds chasing a fox? Hearing that gave me all the
motivation
I needed. My fingertips barely touched the edge of the skylight, but it was now or never. I bent my knees a little, and then launched at the rim of the skylight. For a moment I thought I would fall and come crashing down, but my grasp held firm. The tower of buckets was going to topple over and give me away any second.

Braced against the wall, supported with one arm, I felt around for the handle of the skylight. I pushed with all my strength. Nothing. I tried again, pushing harder, and this time it creaked.

I froze. Had they heard it?

I couldn’t hold on much longer. Every muscle
in my body was braced to keep me up there, wedged into the corner near the ceiling, like some human spider.

Despite my unstable footing, I took a risk and with everything I had, I twisted the handle hard. And this time, with a sharp creak, the skylight opened. I made another lurching thrust and grabbed both sides of the skylight. I kicked hard against the wall and the buckets and pushed myself through the opening. The buckets tipped and collapsed, crashing hard on the floor below.

I was out. I scrambled across the roof, not daring to look behind me—the shouting below had already started. I found a balcony, jumped over and skidded down the drainage pipe. Just as I leapt off and landed, a man ran out on the balcony. He looked down and glared at me. ‘You’d better keep your damn mouth shut!’ he yelled, as he swung his leg around the pipe.

I turned and ran. I concentrated on running and running only, forcing myself beyond anything I’d ever done before …

I was in a strange part of town, trying to find my way home. I didn’t think I could take another step, but I pushed on.

I don’t know how long I walked. I wished I’d
taken more notice of the house I’d escaped from. But I just wanted to get away as fast as I could and the minute I hit the ground, I’d run like a lunatic. I was sure we’d been in the car last night for an hour, at least, but maybe they’d circled a few times to throw me off.