November Read online

  To Milly and Charlie

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  PREVIOUSLY …

  1 NOVEMBER

  2 NOVEMBER

  3 NOVEMBER

  6 NOVEMBER

  9 NOVEMBER

  11 NOVEMBER

  13 NOVEMBER

  14 NOVEMBER

  17 NOVEMBER

  18 NOVEMBER

  20 NOVEMBER

  24 NOVEMBER

  29 NOVEMBER

  30 NOVEMBER

  Copyright

  The old prospectors and their vicious dog, Sniffer, are gaining on me. I plunge into a thorny bush, hoping the dog will avoid it. I’m stunned when he charges towards me, only to lick my face before running off and leading my would-be captors away from me.

  Back in the city I call Boges and find out that Winter managed to keep hold of the bag with Oriana’s fingerprint on it. Our plans to infiltrate Zürich Bank to recover the Ormond Jewel and Riddle are progressing.

  Boges is busy working on perfecting Oriana’s fingerprint, so we can fool the bank scanner. All we need now is her PIN.

  Sheldrake Rathbone has Piers Ormond’s will, and I want it from him. I speak to Nelson Sharkey for advice on blackmail. He suggests a surveillance operation.

  A metal trader gives me six hundred dollars for half of my gold stash.

  Oriana de la Force has been charged with Gabbi’s kidnapping. Winter thinks Kelvin must have dobbed her in. Boges obtains Rathbone’s home address, so we begin surveillance.

  Winter and I catch Rathbone at a suspicious dinner meeting where suitcases are exchanged. We follow him back to his house and watch in amazement as he digs up a wooden box in his backyard. He proceeds to transfer thousands of dollars from the suitcase into it. Winter and I both snap photos of him in the act, then flee.

  Boges anonymously emails one of the incriminating photos to Rathbone.

  I call Rathbone and tell him to come to Crookwood Cemetery where he must hand over Piers Ormond’s will in exchange for my discretion about his money laundering. Boges, Winter and I arrive early to prepare for the meeting. After Rathbone hands over the will, he tries to convince me to disappear and change my identity.

  Piers Ormond’s will reveals that if the Ormond Singularity isn’t claimed by its rightful owner before 31 December, this year, it will revert to the Crown.

  A chance encounter with Repro leads me to his new place—the cavern. After we spend half the night transporting his belongings over an underground lake, Repro notices the writing on my ankle that appeared after I was dumped in Dingo Bones Valley. He tells me it’s a safety deposit box number. Oriana’s PIN!

  Winter and Boges prepare their Oriana and Sumo disguises and we finalise the last details of the bank heist.

  In costume, and carrying the fake fingerprint, Winter and Boges confidently enter Zürich Bank. The plan is going smoothly until the real Oriana and Sumo show up! Winter and Boges, with the contents of the safety deposit box in their possession, just make it out the door in time.

  Later we discover that the contents of the box are fakes! Someone else has the real Jewel and Riddle! But who?

  Rafe, Mum and Gabbi have gone away to Treachery Bay, so Boges and I take the opportunity to search their house. I find a couple of interesting things but most bizarre of all I realise that my mum’s personal things are in Rafe’s room. They’ve become much closer than I had hoped. I don’t want to think about it.

  Sligo is preparing a banquet where he intends to establish a connection between himself and Oriana de la Force. Winter agrees to co-host the event with him to keep him on her side and to see if she can gather any more information about the DMO.

  With the help of a spycam in Winter’s necklace, Boges and I watch the banquet unfold while hidden in Sligo’s pool shed. Among the dinner guests, we spot Rathbone and Murray ‘Toecutter’ Durham.

  Oriana and Sligo argue over the Ormond Riddle and Jewel, making it clear that neither of them have the goods. Sligo discovers that the room is bugged and the party quickly disperses.

  A search through Rathbone’s office reveals a secret drawer with heaps of information on the Ormond family. I also find a file belonging to Charles G Fong—Winter’s dad. This file finally proves to Winter that her parents didn’t disinherit her after all, and that Sligo forged her father’s will.

  Boges reluctantly gives me the startling news that my mum and Rafe are getting married on 31 October. Dr Leporello informs me that a contract killer will make an attempt on Rafe during the ceremony.

  I arrive at the chapel early and hide in the loft next to the organ. As the ceremony proceeds, a man with a weapon steps out from the shadows. I race down the stairs and throw Boges’s Disappearing Dust. People are running, screaming, from the chapel. I hope I have halted the killer.

  I flee as fast as I can, but I’m quickly pursued by cops with the aid of a chopper. Soon I’m surrounded. I throw the canister of Special FX—Boges’s latest creation—in a last-chance effort to escape. But it’s a dud. It doesn’t go off. I’m done for.

  61 days to go …

  The cops closed in on me, carefully advancing in two arcs—the classic pincer movement. I couldn’t believe my desperate dash from the chapel—after stopping the hitman from shooting Rafe—had ended up here. Far away from where it all began, but surrounded.

  I was panting, breathlessly staring down at the motionless Special FX canister that was gleaming in the moonlight. I willed it to do something—anything!

  Did it move? I thought I saw it shimmer, but wasn’t sure.

  A blinding wall of white flame suddenly erupted from the road, shooting up an impenetrable barrier! I was floored. The sound of the explosion almost burst my eardrums!

  As I crawled to my feet, I could hear the muffled screams of the cops and SWAT guys as they struggled on the ground, shocked and blinded by the brilliant flash.

  Seconds later, a rain of stones and soil drummed down from the sky. I ducked and covered my head with my hands. My ears were still ringing and my sight was blurry but one thing was clear to me—it worked! The Special FX had taken its sweet time, but it had worked!

  The dazzling flare slowly subsided, leaving behind columns of billowing smoke in the night air. I had to shut my mouth and eyes against the dirt and dust. In the confusion, the disoriented cops tripped and stumbled over, swearing at each other—and me—as they collided.

  I squinted up to try and locate the helicopter. A greyish glow was haphazardly sweeping over the area. Its powerful light had been eclipsed by black smoke and dust—they’d completely lost my position. There was no way I was going to let them locate me now. This was my chance.

  Blindly, I split off sideways and away from the haze of scrambling bodies on the street. Stumbling across the footpath, I groped my way along, almost colliding with a couple of thick tree trunks.

  I blinked and rubbed my stinging eyes as my vision slowly started straightening out. The flashing lights from the police cars that had earlier screeched to a standstill behind me, now strobed through the lingering smoke, pulsing out a murky blue and orange beat.

  ‘Spread out! He can’t have gone far!’ a voice screamed out from only metres away. My ears were still ringing, but I’d heard those frightening orders loud and clear.

  I dropped to my hands and knees and began crawling, praying that the low smoke would hide me long enough to put some distance between me and my pursuers. I followed the roadside curbing which turned right, sharply.

  As I clambered further away from the main street, my cover was thinning. A quick glance behind me showed the grey clouds from the Special FX lifting and dissolving. A cluster of dim lights were beginning to fan out—proof of police on foot.

  ‘There he is!’ an
other voice shouted. ‘Down there! He’s about to turn down that lane! Don’t lose him!’

  The beams of light grew stronger, crisscrossing through the darkness, searching for me. I stood up and sprinted down the lane, the sounds of thudding boots storming close by. I’d completely broken out of the smoke now and only had the dark to hide me.

  The spotlight from the chopper above had returned and was skimming around me, still yet to lock onto my position. The sound of another helicopter approached, completely freaking me out. I looked up and could just make out the TV news logo on the side. The media had finally shown up. They were like vultures in the sky, waiting for their opportunity to pounce on some helpless creature.

  I wasn’t about to let that creature be me.

  I jumped over a fence and tumbled into someone’s backyard. I scrambled to my feet, took one step and almost crash-dived into a swimming pool! I leaped to the right and raced up the side of the house, tripping and almost falling as my foot got stuck in the loop of a garden hose. I barely managed to keep my balance as I grabbed hold of a tree branch reaching over the fence.

  I was gripping the rough bark of the branch to steady myself when the whole tree started to shake! A roar of squeals shattered the night air and a swarm of black, flapping wings streaked around and over me!

  Bats! A whole leathery colony of them! I’d disturbed their midnight feasting. I jumped back and covered my face.

  They screeched off into the sky as I ducked and kept going. Adrenaline pumped into my veins. I launched myself over the side gate and into the front yard. I flew down the driveway and into the street, crossing it in three huge strides.

  Straight down the side of another house, I ran through an open gate and out again, then continued past the backyard barbecue and over the rear fence. On the other side I found myself at the start of an open field—not a good place for someone on the run. A fast-moving body was way too obvious in this still and empty space.

  Sticking to the fence line, I ran around the edge of the houses that backed onto the field. The cover of darkness wasn’t enough to hide me here, so I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was spotted again.

  Within minutes, the choppers were hovering over my head, and from somewhere the sirens were approaching.

  I spotted a gap in a fence and squeezed through it, tearing my clothes on rusty nails in the process. I ran across the yard, around the side of the house and straight out onto another road.

  The staccato beat of the choppers in the sky constantly thumped in my head, forcing me to keep going.

  But I couldn’t throw them. I didn’t know what to do. There was no way I could hide out in a shed or back garden, but I was tiring with every step. A house-to-house search would eventually find me, no matter how carefully I’d chosen my refuge. My only alternative was to keep moving—fast.

  I bolted away, heading for a long sloping road that was crammed on both sides with old terrace houses. It was harder here for the helicopter to see me, because I could duck under awnings and into side streets. But none of that could fool the ground forces.

  The sirens were getting closer and I knew I couldn’t keep this up. Every time I thought I’d outwitted the police helicopter, it would reappear a moment later, rising in the night sky behind me or, scarier still, up ahead.

  Right now it hovered almost on top of me, swinging towards me with its probing light. The deafening wind-rush from its rotors was flattening the grass and whipping my hair. Cop cars skidded and screeched in from all directions.

  I zigzagged left and right, scanning my surroundings for an escape route.

  By now I recognised where I was—approaching Central Station. My muscles screamed with pain but I forced them on. I gritted my teeth and silently begged for a way to throw the cops off my tail. I had to cheat the man-hunt.

  I hurtled past the basketball courts and bounded up the ramp towards the station entrance. Startled late commuters jumped out of my way—-they must have seen the crazed determination in my eyes.

  The helicopters couldn’t chase me undercover, but I could hear pounding feet nearby.

  Someone was behind me—running much harder than I was.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see the figure gaining on me. It was just one guy chasing me on foot.

  Was it a cop? He wasn’t in uniform. A plain-clothes cop?

  If I couldn’t get away from him and lose myself somewhere in the station, I was done for.

  Every step was agony as my exhausted body demanded rest, but the lone cop was almost on top of me, yelling out my name.

  Desperate, I looked around for somewhere to jump to, dive into—anything to get this guy off my back. I threw another quick glance behind me—he was about my size and he was just a few strides away. I would have to fight him with whatever strength I had left.

  ‘Cal!’ he shouted. ‘Stop running! It’s me!’

  The voice was familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.

  ‘Cal, it’s just me!’

  Finally I stopped and squinted, clenching my fists.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  ‘Ryan?’ I croaked.

  Ryan Spencer pounded up to me. The face I knew so well was staring at me, grinning. ‘You’re so fast—I thought I’d never catch up with you,’ he said between puffs. ‘I saw the whole thing on the news on my mobile. Recognised where you were and thought maybe I should help for once, instead of running away from you.’

  I was stunned to hear my voice coming out of this guy’s mouth like echoing feedback on a long-distance call. Looking at his face was like looking at a painting of me—except for a few small details that the artist hadn’t quite perfected.

  Why would he want to help me all of a sudden? I turned to start running again—I couldn’t trust him—but just as I was about to charge away, he grabbed me.

  ‘Get off me! Let me go!’

  ‘Calm down! I’m trying to help you!’

  ‘I have to get away before the cops catch me!’

  Before saying another word, Ryan dragged me around a corner and into a little alcove. My heaving body and straining lungs were at the point of collapse. I could barely defend myself.

  ‘Take a breather. The helicopter can’t see you in here.’

  ‘You’re really trying to help me?’ I gasped, doubled over. There were so many other questions I wanted to ask him, but now wasn’t the time.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Better than a night of tagging. And it’s not like I can keep on tagging when the entire police force has descended on the city. That would be asking for trouble.’

  ‘So do you know somewhere we can hide?’

  ‘I have a better idea. Nothing beats a good relay race, Cal.’

  ‘A relay race?’

  ‘Pass the baton, bro!’

  Before I could even comprehend what he was saying, he grabbed at my blazer, wrenching it from me, while shrugging off his check shirt.

  ‘Quick, let’s swap,’ he said, as he began pulling on my blazer, over a singlet. ‘I’ll continue the chase for you. Put my shirt on and stay here. We don’t have much time.’

  ‘But if they catch you—’ I started to say.

  ‘Don’t worry; they’re not going to catch me. Not if I can help it. Come on,’ he urged, passing me a cap to wear. ‘Anyway, if they do catch me, they can’t arrest me, can they—I mean, I’m not you, am I?’

  Stunned, I buttoned up the shirt he’d given me to wear. He pulled my blazer’s collar up around his face.

  ‘Wish me luck,’ he grinned, only his sunburnt nose showing. ‘I’ll take them on for as long as possible. I won my school’s under-15 cross-country race last year, so I should be able to give you plenty of time to get away.’

  I was about to tell him that I’d won my school’s under-15 cross-country race last year too, when he stepped out of the alcove, nodded to me, turned and ran.

  The sound of his footsteps soon disappeared, and then the sirens picked up their wailing again, clearly having
spotted Ryan—posing as me—emerging from the station.

  I sank into the alcove as the SWAT team, chasing Ryan on foot, ran right past me and my hiding spot. I held my breath as they thundered by, intent on capturing the lone figure in the blazer ahead of them.

  The identity switch had worked!

  Carefully I peered out. The brilliant beam from the helicopter was sweeping over the cityscape, just beyond the station. I waited about ten minutes before silently making my way towards the basketball courts and hauling myself up the perimeter fence.

  From my vantage point, high up the wire netting, I could just make out Ryan in the distance, a running silhouette in my clothes, circled in the chopper spotlight, leading the chase far, far away from the ‘real’ me.

  The drone of the fugitive chase was fading with every metre that Ryan led the fierce hunt away. Around me, the sounds of the night had almost returned to normal. I hung from the netting like an exhausted monkey, before finally releasing my grip and letting myself drop to the ground.

  I plodded up the stairs to Winter’s flat, climbing like I was about a hundred years old. I owed Ryan Spencer big time. He’d shown up like a decoy clone, saved my exhausted butt, and left me behind with my mind spinning.

  We were so similar, he had to be my twin, but nothing made sense. What had happened to us? I recalled his November birth date. We didn’t share the same birthday and we didn’t share the same mum … It just wasn’t possible.

  Ryan had always run away from me in the past, why had he suddenly decided to help me?