January (6 page)

I was still thinking about the mysterious call from Jennifer Smith, wondering if that was even her real name, when I picked up my mobile and messaged Boges:

r u ready for job at 3?

  i’m in!

c u outside target’s place.

‘OK,’ said Boges as we stood outside Uncle Rafe’s place. It was a modern two-storey house that he moved into a few years back, after my aunty—his wife—died. He ran his drafting business there now.

‘Your uncle must be loaded,’ said Boges, looking around at the mansions of Dolphin Point. ‘So what’s the plan?’

‘I’m going to go inside and have a look for the envelope. I know it had my name on it and I’m sure it’s got the drawings in it that Dr Edmundson told me about. I just hope Rafe came by and left it here. We’ve got a good two
hours at least—by the time they meet with the solicitor in the city and then make it home.’

Boges nodded, slightly distracted by a nearby bright yellow Ferrari.

‘Some woman rang me earlier,’ I continued. ‘She said she looked after Dad when he was here in the hospice, and that she’s got something to show me. I agreed to meet her tomorrow night in Memorial Park.’

‘Tomorrow
night
? Who is she?’

‘Someone called Jennifer Smith.’

‘Someone called Jennifer Smith
?’ Boges laughed. ‘I don’t know, dude … Are you sure you should go?’

‘I have to.’

‘Yeah, but it could be a set-up. Don’t forget your dad’s warnings. He mentioned a dangerous woman in his letter, remember?’

‘I know. The woman he met at the historical conference in Ireland …’

‘That’s the one. What if it’s her? What will you do?’

‘Run like hell,’ I joked.

‘It sounds dodgy to me. I’d come with you but I’m supposed to be working.’

When he wasn’t studying or working on
electronics, Boges was helping his uncle and his mother, who were cleaning contractors. Sometimes he’d take on jobs instead of his mum, when her back was playing up.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be right,’ I said. I seemed to be making a lot of promises lately that I really wasn’t sure I could keep. ‘Right now I need you to be the outside man, here,’ I said, pointing at the entrance to Rafe’s house. ‘Keep your eyes open. Try to stay out of sight, and message me if I need to get out. OK? I really don’t want anyone catching me.’

I threw my backpack over the iron gate, then quickly climbed up and over.

I slipped into the house through the back sliding doors. I’d ‘borrowed’ the key from Mum’s dressing table.

It felt strange being there, alone in the empty house. It was such an awesome place, I wondered why Rafe would never have made us feel welcome. I’d only been over a couple of times, but the house would have been perfect for Sunday barbecues and backyard cricket, especially when Dad was around.

The smell of Rafe’s cigars was so thick that it was as if he was there in the next room. You’d have to feel lonely in a big empty house like this, I thought. Doubt started to kick in again. Maybe Rafe really was trying to protect me. But why wouldn’t he talk to me about it? If I was old enough to take up Dad’s work—whatever it was he needed me to do—surely I didn’t need Rafe treating me like a kid. I couldn’t make up my mind about him.

I started my search through the house, going straight for the kitchen. I was relieved to see the oranges there in a bowl on the table. The canvas bag, now empty, sat on a nearby stool. I opened drawers, felt around above the fridge, looked in all the cupboards … nothing.

I headed next to the huge office where Rafe worked at his angled drafting board. I looked around at his desk, his computer, the
photocopier
and the printer perched along the low counter. All I found were files containing receipts, orders for house plans, and drafting paperwork.

I made a quick check of the piles of paper on his desk, and when I saw the name ‘Ormond’ written in Rafe’s handwriting, on a half-hidden sheet of paper, I immediately pulled it out

The Ormond Riddle? What was that about? There were so many things in our family that might have been considered riddles. Like the mysterious viral disease that rapidly destroyed my dad, tangling all the connecting lines in his brain. Or like the run of tragedy and bad luck we’d had since his death. The warning about the Ormond Singularity and the fact that someone had deliberately sabotaged the fishing boat. The failure of my life jacket. The break-in …

More like Ormond
Curse
.

I turned my attention to three big red-lidded plastic storage boxes. I rifled through them, but only found old botany books, flagged with notes
and diagrams, and more of Rafe’s drafting papers.

The other downstairs rooms didn’t take long. Under the red lid of another plastic box were Rafe’s personal stuff and more books on flowering plants and ferns. Dad had told me that Rafe studied botany at university, years ago, but I never realised how into it he was.

I crept upstairs and looked around. Rafe’s bedroom was right at the back of the house, overlooking the garden. Before going in there, I searched the other two bedrooms, without luck. They looked—and smelled—as if they hadn’t been opened in months.

In Rafe’s room I started with the wardrobe, and found lots of his jackets hanging in an orderly row. All of the pockets were empty.