September (11 page)

Winter gently took it from my fingers and turned it around looking at it carefully. ‘It’s beautiful, and it’s perfect that it’s a moth. They only have a short life, too, you know. You’re amazing,’ she said to Boges.

I think Winter’s words had made my friend blush.

‘I changed my mind about the dart and used this little suction cup instead,’ said Boges,
showing
us a small, rubbery hemisphere at the front of the ‘moth’. I’ve experimented and found that it will hold on to almost any flat surface.’ He picked up the air rifle and squinted down the barrel. ‘I did some practice shooting using the moth modification—
mothification
, I’ve been
calling
it—on ordinary air rifle pellets. I’ve tried to adjust it, but it’s still firing to the right a little. You’ll need to correct that when you’re aiming. But other than that, it’s pretty good over short distances.’

‘How short?’

‘Ten metres or so.’

‘I think that should be OK,’ I said slowly, trying to estimate the distance between the window, the tree, and the far wall of Oriana’s home office.

‘We’ll need to find an observation post,’ said Boges, ‘where I can set up the receiver. It’ll have to be somewhere fairly close to our target.’

‘Can you hold onto it until we’re ready to go?’

‘Of course. And you only have one shot at it, remember?’

‘How could I forget?’ I said, cringing. Nailing my one shot was vital.

I was striding across the road near the disused railway yards with a warm parcel of fish and chips for Repro when I heard the whoomp, whoomp, whoomp of a helicopter in the sky. I squinted up and my heart sank. It was the police.

Had they seen me?

From not too far away I heard a siren begin to wail.

I bolted over to the three old rusty filing cabinets.

‘Repro, it’s me,’ I hissed, rapping on the middle door. ‘Quick! Let me in!’

Behind me the sirens screamed louder; the helicopter hovered closer.

Nothing happened.

I tried again. ‘Come on, Repro, don’t hold out on me! I think they’re on to me!’

I waited for a response but he didn’t answer. I couldn’t hear any grumbling or muttering.

I knocked harder again. ‘Repro, let me in! Please!’

Still nothing. I was beginning to wonder if he was even in there when I heard something that sounded like the scrape of a chair on the floor. The sound of the siren was now ear piercing.

‘I can hear you,’ I shouted, becoming uneasier by the minute. ‘I know you’re in there!’

A police car, lights flashing, sped past and continued on its way. I sagged with relief. I looked up to check on the helicopter—it was now a distant glint over the darkening city. This time, it wasn’t me they were after.

From behind the filing cabinet wall I heard the chair scraping again. The cops had moved on, but something else was seriously wrong. Every instinct was warning me now. I needed to know my friend was OK.

‘Repro, what’s going on? Why won’t you let me in?’

The sound of something being shifted from behind the wall came as a relief. I pressed against the back of the filing cabinet, and finally it gave way, letting me inside the lair.

In a split second, I saw and understood the situation. I tried to back out, but it was too late! I’d walked into a trap!

Straight ahead of me, Repro was struggling, gagged and tied to his bedhead.

Three-O and another guy jumped out in front of me, grabbed me and threw me to the ground. I tried to fight them off, but Three-O easily wrenched my arm up behind my back, and the two of them hauled me over to a chair near the table.

Repro wailed. I threw him a sideways glance
and saw that he’d just managed to spit the gag out of his mouth.

‘They forced their way in behind me, Cal,’ he said, panting. ‘I was coming back with supplies, and they came from nowhere. Nowhere! They said they’d tell the authorities about my home here! About my collection! They overpowered me—it was two against one. I’m sorry!’

He looked so miserable, struggling in his green suit with the too-short sleeves, and his thin face drooping over his grubby yellow tie.
He
was sorry? I was the one who had brought danger into
his
life.

‘Shut up, you old scarecrow,’ hissed Three-O’s mate. It was Freddy, the guy I’d first encountered in the stormwater drain and then the carpark—the guy who looked like a pirate.

‘What do you want?’ I shouted at Three-O as he and Freddy started roping me to the chair.

‘What do I want?’ Three-O sneered. He got right in my face. ‘I want to do society a
favour
by aiding the police in the arrest of Callum Ormond.’

Freddy cackled like a hyena.

‘There is also the case of this—’ Three-O paused and rubbed his fingers together,
indicating
money. ‘I want the reward money and this time I’m gonna get it! There’ll be no escaping!
The next people you’ll see will be the cops. It’s the end of the line for you, buddy,’ he said,
giving
a savage tug to the strong nylon rope that he was tying onto my wrists and ankles.

He stuck his head into my face again. ‘You’ll regret crossing me.’

I tried to struggle but was completely
immobilised
.

‘Get a move on, Freddy,’ Three-O ordered his companion. ‘Let’s really nail this place up!’ Three-O had a hammer and a bag of nails, and Freddy had pieces of timber that he’d ripped up from Repro’s tabletop.

That’s when I realised that they’d raided Repro’s collection. The place had been trashed. Massive guilt weighed down on me as I looked over at my friend, helpless and tied up, watching his home being destroyed.

Freddy smirked at me and then pushed his way through the secret door, disappearing
outside
. Just before Three-O did the same, he turned to me with an evil grin.

‘Thanks for the food,’ he said, picking up the parcel of fish and chips from where I’d dropped it in my struggle. Then he turned to Repro. ‘Think you’re pretty tricky with your secret door, hey? Try getting yourself out of this, Freak Show!’

Repro and I listened to Three-O and Freddy hammering outside, nailing the timber across the back of the filing cabinet, walling us in. I looked around. The lair was hollowed out of rock, without even a window for escape.

I tussled with my bound wrists, but all the knots held tight. Immobilised like this, all we could do was wait until the cops arrived to arrest me. Repro would be booted out of his home.

‘They’ll take me away,’ said Repro. ‘I won’t be able to live here any more. They’ll lock me up with you. I’ve avoided them for years, and now …’

I’d been feeling really guilty about dragging Repro into this situation so I let him talk. But after he’d been carrying on for a while, I started to panic—every wasted second brought our arrests closer.

‘Listen,’ I snapped, ‘you’re not the only one in this mess. You think you have problems? I’ll be spending the rest of my life in maximum security!’

‘I was only ever trying to help you!’ he shouted at me.

Something Dad used to say came into my mind: when you’re in a tight spot, don’t waste energy whingeing about the situation. Instead, use that energy to find a solution.

‘Repro, we have to find a way out of this. Now. For both of our sakes.’

‘I’ve been outwitting those bluecoats for years,’ he said, twisting his skinny fingers, trying to get at the knots that tied him. ‘It’s humiliating to be trussed up and delivered to them like this.’

‘So help me think of a way out of here.’

‘You heard them hammering and nailing,’ he said. ‘We’ll need a bulldozer to get out of here when they’re done.’

‘We need to get our hands and feet free, first. We can figure the rest out after that.’

‘And we can’t even try the emergency tunnel, all tied up like this,’ he said.

‘Emergency tunnel? What are you talking about?’

‘There was a tunnel that I used to use
sometimes
to get out of here, but I haven’t tried it in a long time because of the dangerous rockfalls.’

‘Right!’ I said, recalling him mentioning it ages ago. I jumped my chair around in a
three-point
turn to face him. ‘If there
is
another way out of here, we have a chance. We have to take the risk!’

‘You don’t know what you’re saying. There’s no chance. We’re tied up like a pair of Christmas turkeys and the emergency tunnel is practically a death trap.’

‘We have to try it!’

Repro stared intensely at his bookcase. ‘It’s behind there. If you push that aside, you’ll find the entrance of a small tunnel that connects to the underground drainage section of that railway line you nearly got creamed on. Remember?’

‘How could I ever forget?’

‘There was a rockfall when I was in there a while ago, and I was nearly buried alive. Buried alive!’

I shivered. I knew what that fear felt like.

‘Anyway,’ said Repro, shaking his head, ‘it’s not even an option. Look at us!’ he said,
trying
unsuccessfully to wriggle his hands and feet free.

‘We have to try,’ I urged, jumping my chair a little more. I found that if I did it vigorously enough, I could actually inch myself across the floor. If I could get to Repro and turn myself and the chair around, my fingers might be able to undo the knots that were tying him, or his long, supple fingers might be able to undo mine. ‘We don’t have much time,’ I said. ‘I’m coming over! You’re going to undo my ropes for me.’

I jumped myself across the dusty floor,
squeezing
past the table until finally I landed myself beside the bed. With immense effort, I jumped the chair around so that I was facing away from
him and my bound wrists were behind me, lined up with Repro’s fingers.

‘Start working your magic,’ I ordered. ‘Get my hands free, then I’ll get yours free. Fast!’

His fingers immediately started scrambling, awkwardly prodding and pulling at the knots behind me.

‘Hurry!’ I pleaded.

‘I’m going as fast as I can! The cavalry will be here any minute now—don’t you think I know that? Pipe down and keep still!’

I gritted my teeth, trying to stop myself from saying any more. Sweat was running down my forehead and stinging my eyes.

‘Almost there,’ he said as I felt the ropes on my hands loosening.

I twisted my hands, squeezed my fingers together, trying to make them as compact and narrow as possible.

‘I’m free!’ I yelled.

‘That you are! Now hurry up and free me!’

I leaned down and began working frantically on the ropes at my feet first. The second I had them out, I jumped up and started pulling at the ropes around Repro’s hands and the bedhead.

When we were both finally free, Repro threw the ropes to the floor and jumped up, then almost fell over. ‘I’ll have to get the circulation back,’
he said, stomping his feet on the floor, dancing around like a tall, skinny leprechaun.

‘Quit prancing around! Let’s get out of here!’

A lot of time had passed since Three-O and Freddy had barricaded us in, and I was feeling nervous, thinking I could hear the helicopter back again.

I started shoving the bookshelf aside, and Repro skipped over to help me.

Outside, it sounded like vehicles were
screeching
and skidding to a halt. Then came the sounds of thudding feet. I imagined riot police being ordered into position.

‘The cops are already here!’ I yelled. ‘They’ll be bashing the door down in seconds! Let’s go, let’s go!’

Repro started staring up at the ceiling,
peering
into a dark cavity.

‘What are you doing?’ I shouted. ‘Help me with this!’

He ignored me and kept on staring up above the secret filing cabinet entrance, like he was trying to work something out. He nodded his head and rubbed his hands together.

‘Repro, what are you doing? Stop wasting time! We have to get out of here!’

Finally he snapped out of it and helped me wrench the bookshelf aside, sending tiny boxes
and bottles flying, crashing and shattering on the floor. A jar of glass eyes smashed to the ground, and all the coloured eyeballs rolled around, staring up at us.