The Crystal Code (10 page)

Chapter 13

‘I
may have over-ordered.'

Sam leaned back in the dining chair, a trail of melted ice cream snaking down his chin.

The table was a mess. Plates of half-eaten pancakes, swimming in maple syrup and whipped butter, were wedged up against soggy waffles soaked in chocolate. A serving trolley, bearing several bowls of melting ice cream, stood against the wall.

Sam rubbed his belly beneath his sweatshirt and groaned again.

Ruby picked up a spoon and twirled it in her fingers. ‘Those detectives didn't fill me with confidence,' she said. ‘They weren't very interested in hearing about Sir Mason Green.'

‘I'm sure he's at the centre of all this,' Gerald said. ‘I keep expecting his sneering face to bob up somewhere.' He bit his bottom lip. ‘I really don't want to see him again.'

Ruby folded her arms across her chest and shivered. ‘I don't like how that man in the cottage said he'd been looking for you, Gerald. If Green is involved, I have the nasty feeling we'll hear from him.'

Then a thought popped into Gerald's head. It landed gentle as a snowflake on a mountaintop, but within seconds it was rolling down the hill in a fully fledged avalanche. ‘That dinner jacket of Green's that we got from the dry cleaners.'

Felicity sat at the end of the dining table. The waffle on her plate was untouched. ‘What about it?' she asked.

‘He left some keys in the pocket. Remember?' Gerald disappeared into a bedroom and reappeared a moment later with a silver key ring. ‘These must be for an apartment that Green has here in San Francisco,' he said. He flipped the fob over. ‘The Palladium Apartments,' he read. ‘Nob Hill.'

Sam let out a giggle. Everyone looked at him. His cheeks reddened. ‘Sorry,' he mumbled.

‘What are you thinking, Gerald?' Ruby asked, suddenly brightening. ‘Do you want to pay a visit?'

‘If Green is running this show, I want to know what he's after,' Gerald said. ‘There's no way he could sneak back into the US so soon after escaping from jail. So that gives us some time to have a look around his apartment. It probably won't amount to much but who knows—we might find something.'

‘You don't want to just call the detectives and tell them?' Sam said.

‘No!' Felicity's response was emphatic. Gerald, Sam and Ruby turned to look at her. She blushed. ‘They'll be too busy,' she said. ‘Looking for everyone.' She dropped her eyes to her uneaten meal. ‘And, like Gerald says, there's probably nothing there.'

Gerald pushed himself back from the table. ‘It's better than hanging around here,' he said.

Within five minutes they had jackets, gloves and hats, ready to go. They gathered at the door and Gerald was about to pull it open when Ruby grabbed his arm. ‘Wait,' she said. ‘What about the policeman outside? He's not going to let us just wander out of here.'

Gerald paused. ‘You're right. There's got to be a way past him.' Then his eyes fell on the room-service trolley. He reached for the telephone.

It didn't take much to convince the room-service porter.

‘A hundred dollars to push you guys down the hall in this trolley?' the man asked, not sure if he'd heard right.

‘And there's another hundred when you deliver us back in an hour or so,' Gerald said. ‘But our friend outside in the hallway can't know anything about it.'

The porter lifted a corner of the floor-length tablecloth that was draped over the trolley. ‘Climb aboard,' he said.

Gerald wasn't sure whose elbow was shoved under his nose, or whose kidneys he'd squashed with his knee, but the cramped journey down the length of the hotel corridor was worth every cent.

A short cab ride later and they bundled out onto the street opposite the Palladium Apartments. The sun had disappeared over the horizon and a dank night had settled on the city.

Gerald jangled the keys in his jacket pocket. Across the street, through a wall of glass at the front of the apartment building, he could see a man sitting behind a reception desk.

‘How do we get past him?' Ruby asked, following Gerald's gaze. ‘He'll know we don't live here.'

Gerald pondered this for a moment. ‘I'll just have to use my Australian charm.'

Ruby snorted. ‘Oh, yes. Bend over and let him bask in your sunshine.'

Gerald gave her a dirty look, then scooted across the road and up the front steps. Felicity, Ruby and Sam joined him under the front awning.

Gerald pointed to a panel of door buzzers on the wall. Next to apartment 8 was a neatly typed name: Sir Mason Green.

Through the glass door, the man had his head down, engrossed in a book. Gerald raised his finger to his lips and jerked his head towards the lifts at the rear of the foyer. He eased the door open and slipped inside. The others followed.

They were halfway across the lobby when the man raised his head.

‘Can I help you?' he said in much the manner of a cat interrupting a mouse in front of an open pantry door.

Gerald pulled the keys from his pocket and jiggled them in the air. ‘No thank you,' he said, smiling pleasantly. ‘Just going up to my uncle's apartment.'

‘Really?' the man said. ‘And who might your uncle be?'

Gerald stopped walking. Felicity almost ran into the back of him.

‘Sir Mason Green,' he said, trying to steady the tremor in his voice.

The doorman didn't blink. ‘Yeah? Well, he's not home. I haven't seen him for months. So—' the man lifted his hand and wafted it towards the door, as if shooing flies from his soup.

Gerald swallowed tightly. ‘I know,' he said. ‘But he's coming back next week. He asked if I could, um, check the milk in his refrigerator.'

The man looked Gerald up and down. ‘The milk?'

‘That's right.'

‘And it takes four of you to do that?'

Sam took a half-step forward. ‘It's a very big fridge.'

Gerald quickly interjected. ‘My uncle's a bit of a neat freak. He likes everything to be just right.'

The man gave Gerald one more look up and down. ‘Yes, I know. There were some cleaners here earlier today,' he said. ‘Go ahead—I should have recognised the funny accent. Just put the key in next to button 8.'

Gerald uttered a quick thanks and hustled everyone into the lift. He pushed the key in, turned it and pressed button 8. The doors slid shut.

‘A very big fridge?' Ruby said to Sam. ‘Are you completely insane?'

‘It worked, didn't it?' Sam said.

Ruby shook her head, then turned to Gerald. ‘What do you think he meant about cleaners being here? Is Green coming back?'

‘He's on the run,' Gerald said. ‘He's hardly going to tip off the police by calling in the cleaners.' The lift bounced to a stop. The doors slid apart, opening into the foyer of Green's luxury apartment.

Gerald, Sam, Ruby and Felicity stepped into a scene of utter carnage. The place had been ransacked. Completely trashed. Furniture was upturned, cushions were slashed open and the stuffing strewn about. The contents of drawers were flung everywhere. Rugs had been lifted and thrown aside. The apartment looked like an earthquake had struck.

‘Oh gosh,' Ruby said, her hands over her mouth. ‘What's happened?'

Gerald took a tentative step into the piles of debris. ‘If I was Mason Green,' he said, ‘I'd be looking for new cleaners.'

The main living room looked through a wall of glass onto the San Francisco night. The order in the grid of streetlights glowing through the fog was in stark contrast to the chaos inside the apartment. They picked their way through the wreckage. Cupboards stood empty, their contents vomited across the carpet in front of them.

Gerald peered into the study. The floor was littered with broken picture frames. Glass was smashed out and documents had been torn from their mountings. It was as if a family of chimpanzees had just moved out. ‘I'll say this for the cleaners—they're thorough.'

Ruby leafed through the rubbish at her feet. ‘I knew Green liked collecting historical documents, but some of this stuff is amazing,' she said.

Felicity held up a yellowed parchment. ‘Is this a copy of the Magna Carta?' she asked.

‘What's the Magna Carta?' Gerald said.

‘Foundation stone for modern representative government,' Sam said. ‘It delivers power to the people through the extension of suffrage to the masses, not just the king.'

Everybody stopped what they were doing and stared at Sam.

‘What?' Sam said. ‘That stuff is important.'

Ruby shook her head. ‘You amaze me.'

‘What are we looking for, Gerald?' Felicity asked. She was inspecting a weathered green bottle. The top was sealed with red wax. It was about the only thing in the room that hadn't been broken.

‘I'm not sure,' Gerald said. ‘But whatever it is, it seems we're not the only ones looking for it.'

Ruby picked up a piece of paper that had been crumpled into a ball. She flattened it out. ‘Oh my,' she said. 'This is a letter from Paul McCartney to John Lennon. The Beatles!'

‘What's it say?' Gerald asked.

‘Um, basically, I don't like your girlfriend.'

Gerald looked at the piles of documents on the floor. ‘This lot must be worth a blind fortune,' he said. ‘But someone's gone through it and left it all behind.'

‘They must be looking for something special,' Ruby said. She gasped. ‘You don't think it's the same people who attacked the chalet? Who kidnapped our parents?'

‘The detective said they were looking for something specific,' Sam said.

‘Then Mason Green can't be responsible for this,' Felicity said, still cradling the bottle in her hands. ‘He'd hardly need to turn over his own place.'

Gerald nodded. ‘That's a good point.' He thought for a second. ‘If it's not Green, then who is it?'

From out in the foyer came a gentle
ding
, and the sound of the lift doors sliding open.

Someone entered the apartment.

Ruby let out a startled gasp and switched off the study light. They froze where they stood—Ruby by the window, Sam and Gerald by the desk. Felicity carefully pushed the study door closed.

Gerald strained to hear. There were footsteps—the sound of someone picking their way through the mess. Then the study door cracked open and swung in slowly. A head, silhouetted against the light outside, popped through the gap.

And Felicity brought down the bottle with a mighty crash, shattering it over the skull as if she was launching a yacht.

Glass shards flew everywhere. A man in a dark suit crumpled to the floor at her feet.

‘Do you have to beat up everyone you come across?' Ruby said.

Felicity ignored her. She knelt next to the prone man. A rolled piece of paper, tied with faded ribbon, was lying between his shoulder blades. Felicity picked it up.

‘This must have been inside the bottle,' she said.

Gerald snatched it from her. ‘Maybe you should ease up on the self-defence. We don't even know if this guy is one of them.' He shoved the paper into his pocket and rolled the man onto his back. He was breathing but his eyes were closed.

Felicity peeled open the man's coat and started going through his pockets.

‘Now what are you doing?' Ruby asked.

‘We may as well find out who we're dealing with,' Felicity said. She pulled out a black leather wallet and flipped it open.

‘Uh oh.'

‘What is it?' Sam asked.

Felicity turned the wallet around. It contained a gold shield and a photo ID topped by three large blue letters.

FBI.

Chapter 14

S
pecial Agent de Bruin sat hunched at the kitchen table, with a cup of instant coffee in one hand and his head in the other.

Felicity sat opposite him, biting her bottom lip. ‘I am truly sorry,' she said for the tenth time. ‘I don't know what came over me. I just got caught up in the excitement.' She grimaced. ‘I've never done anything bad before.'

De Bruin ran his fingers over the lump that was forming on the back of his skull. ‘For a beginner,' he said, ‘you're doing a remarkable job.'

Ruby handed the man an icepack from the freezer. He nodded a thank you, placed it on the back of his head and winced.

Sam had been studying the special agent carefully from across the table. ‘Where's your partner?' he asked.

Agent de Bruin raised a tired eye and looked at him. ‘Excuse me?'

‘You guys always work in pairs,' Sam said. ‘I was just wondering where your partner was.'

De Bruin adjusted the icepack to one side. He was a slender man and his lack of width made him appear taller than he really was. His dark hair was cropped short, and he wore his suit like a second skin. ‘I work alone,' he said. ‘I follow procedures.'

‘Do those procedures tell you where our parents are?' Ruby asked. ‘Where Ox and Alisha are?'

‘Uh, Ox?'

‘His name is Oswald,' Gerald said. ‘Oswald Perkins. Everyone calls him Ox.'

De Bruin pulled a pad from his coat pocket, folded back the cover and made a note. Then he closed the cover and placed the pad back into his coat.

Ruby looked at him, her brow furrowing. ‘Shouldn't you be doing more than just writing stuff down? Like closing airports and rounding up suspects?'

‘I am doing everything in order,' de Bruin said. ‘I always follow set procedures.'

‘So you said. But isn't there a way to speed things up?' Gerald asked.

De Bruin placed the icepack on the table and wiped his hands on a handkerchief, which he then carefully folded and placed in his trouser pocket. ‘Routine is my friend. I follow a process. The process is there to get things done in a very specific order.'

‘Which order?'

Agent de Bruin fixed Gerald with an intense stare. ‘The right order.'

‘How about finding my mum and dad?' Ruby said. A tear formed in her eye. ‘Is that part of your precious process?'

De Bruin switched his gaze to Ruby. ‘The process will be followed.' He offered nothing more.

‘Uh, what were you hoping to find here, Agent de Bruin?' Felicity asked, fiddling with the neck of her jumper.

De Bruin turned his head slowly to face Felicity. ‘Sir Mason Green may have been in possession of an item that is sought by the kidnappers,' he said. ‘I came here to search the premises. Part of the—'

‘Process,' Gerald said. ‘Yes, we get the idea. What item, exactly? At the chalet they seemed to be looking for a piece of jewellery.'

‘Possibly,' de Bruin said. ‘Or maybe a document.'

‘They're not interested in democracy or the Beatles,' Sam said. ‘We know that much.'

Gerald picked up Felicity's jacket from the table and passed it to her. ‘We better get back to the hotel,' he said. ‘Agent de Bruin, you'll call us if you find anything?'

De Bruin pulled out his notebook and flipped it open. ‘Of course. I have one question.'

‘Sure.'

‘What hat size are you?'

Gerald stared at the agent for a moment. ‘I have no idea.'

‘I'll put you down as seven and a quarter. That's about average for a boy your age.'

Gerald's mouth popped open. ‘Hat size? Is that all part of the—'

‘Process,' de Bruin said. ‘Oh yes.' He scribbled in the notebook.

Felicity followed Sam, Ruby and Gerald into the lift. She pushed the button for the foyer and the doors slid shut. ‘I guess he's just a process kind of guy,' she said.

The presidential suite at the Fairmont Hotel was a sombre place that night. Sam made his usual giant mattress of cushions and pillows on the floor and set himself up in front of the TV. He had the remote in one hand and a cheeseburger in the other. Ruby sat with her feet curled under her in an armchair by the fireplace, trying to read a book. Gerald had dragged a chair up to a window overlooking the city and leaned back with his hands clasped behind his head and his feet up on the sill. Felicity played
Für Elise
on a baby grand.

Ruby tossed her book over her shoulder. It landed on Sam's stomach. ‘I've just read the same sentence five times,' she said. ‘My mind is mush.'

Gerald stared out at the mist-shrouded city. ‘I know what you mean.' He paused for a second. ‘I wonder what Ox and Alisha are doing right now.'

‘And our parents,' Ruby said.

‘Of course,' Gerald said. ‘It's horrible for everyone. But I'm really worried about Ox. He still sleeps with a night-light in his bedroom.'

Felicity moved on to the
Moonlight Sonata
, her fingers feather-light across the keys. ‘That Agent de Bruin was an odd fellow,' she said, idly. ‘Not what I expected an FBI agent to be like at all.'

Gerald looked across from the window. ‘That was one of the weirdest things I've ever sat through,' he said. ‘What's the business with my hat size?'

Ruby let out a derisive snort. ‘Do you even think he is an FBI agent?'

‘What do you mean?' Felicity asked.

‘We've come across people claiming to be special agents before,' Ruby said. ‘Do you remember Leclerc in India?'

Gerald nodded. ‘There was this guy in Delhi who pretended to be an agent with Interpol,' he explained to Felicity. ‘Then it turned out he was working for Mason Green. Not that it helped him much in the end.' Gerald shivered at the memory of Leclerc sinking into a pit of quicksand.

‘Do you think this de Bruin man is working for Sir Mason Green?' Felicity asked.

‘At the moment,' Gerald sighed, ‘I don't know what to think. But where Green is concerned, I wouldn't rule out anything.'

‘Whether he's with the FBI or not, he was very strange,' Ruby said.

‘Seriously, Felicity,' Sam said, ‘if you hadn't hit him with the bottle at the start I'd have done it by the end. Process this. Procedure that.' He flicked the channel on the TV. ‘What a mental case.'

Felicity suddenly stopped playing and sat upright on the piano stool. ‘Gerald,' she said. ‘I just remembered—the piece of paper that was inside the bottle.'

Gerald shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the roll of paper. He held it up between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Message in a bottle,' he said.

He knelt by the coffee table and gently eased off the red ribbon, then rolled the paper flat.

‘What is it?' Ruby asked, peering over his shoulder.

There was a string of letters, handwritten in faded ink.

Xerxs blu c axtb pxfbi pab cilbnixg hxracib jl snbeebg xis rjiocuibs cp pj pab sbkpao eqp hy rjiorcbirb co cgg xp nbop c xh lclpy hcgbo ib jl rqgkbkkbn cogxis c sj ijp fijv cl c sbobntb nborqb oj c nbgy ji pab dqsubhbip jl pab jib vaj lciso paco hbooxub hxy yjqn ojqg eb nxcobs ji eqppbnlgy vciuo.

At the bottom, in a fine clear hand, was:
Midshipman Jeremy Davey, October 1835. May God have mercy on his humble servant's soul
.

‘Well that's complete nonsense,' Sam said.

Gerald turned the paper over. The other side was covered in painted symbols, none of which made any sense.

‘It looks like it's been torn from a book,' Gerald said.

‘Torn from a book!' Felicity said. ‘Who would do such a thing?'

Sam gave Felicity a sidewards glance. ‘You're worried about books being vandalised? I take it you're over your guilt for smashing a bottle over an FBI agent's head?'

‘That's if he is FBI,' Felicity said. ‘Anyway, I can't take it back now. Maybe this paper is what the kidnappers were looking for. Not some piece of jewellery at all. That's a relief.'

Gerald held the paper up to the light, rubbing the fabric-like texture between his fingers. ‘Why would that be a relief?' he asked.

Felicity toyed with the neckline of her jumper, and glanced towards the window. The lights of the city seemed to be shining brighter. ‘I just mean it will give the police something to work on,' she said. ‘That's all.'

‘You know who might help us?' Ruby said. ‘Professor McElderry. I bet he'd know what these symbols mean.'

‘Who's he?' Felicity asked.

‘He's from the British Museum,' Ruby said. ‘He knew all about the three caskets and the Oracle at Delphi.'

Felicity turned to Gerald, a quizzical look on her face. ‘What's she talking about, Gerald? Is there something you haven't told me?'

‘It's a long story,' Gerald said. ‘I'll tell you later. Much later. But that's a good idea about the professor, Ruby.'

The phone rang.

They all jumped.

It was a discordant, jarring clatter of a ring. The phone ring equivalent of fingernails down the blackboard.

Gerald looked to Ruby and Sam, then picked up the phone.

‘Yes?' he said.

Ruby clung to Sam's arm. Her eyes were glued to Gerald's face.

‘Is it them?' Ruby asked.

Gerald held up a finger for quiet. After a moment, he gave a simple ‘yes', and hung up the phone.

‘Well?' Ruby said.

‘That was Mr Prisk,' Gerald said. ‘The fog has lifted. The jet's ready to go. And if I refuse to go back to London he'll get a court order forcing me to.'

‘What are you going to do?' Ruby asked.

‘Go back to London, I guess,' he said. ‘But I have to seriously think about getting a new lawyer.'

London was grey. Gunmetal grey, and December cold.

Christmas lights were strung along Oxford Street and holly wreaths hung from front doors. But the sparkles and splashes of colour did nothing to distract Gerald from the fact that Ox and Alisha were still missing, along with his parents and everyone else from the chalet.

From the bay window of the main drawing room at the terrace house in Chelsea, the view was grim indeed.

The flight from San Francisco had been a tiring non-event. Gerald had spent an hour of it in the jet's office on the satellite phone to Mr Prisk, listening to updates from the police. A lot of reports, a lot of theories, and one singular thing that baffled them all: no contact from the kidnappers. No demands. No ransom.

‘Nothing?' Gerald had said into the phone.

‘Nothing,' Mr Prisk responded.

Gerald gave the paper from the bottle to Mr Prisk when they touched down, to pass on to the authorities, but not before he'd made a copy.

And now he was back in his London home, facing a relentless winter and the lonely uncertainty about his family and friends.

‘I should be at Bondi,' Gerald grumbled. He turned his back to the window to face Felicity. She was seated on a rug in front of a crackling fire, doing a crossword from that morning's newspaper.

‘Summer at Bondi,' he continued. ‘Hot, sandy, sweaty Bondi Beach. Waves rolling in, water cool and refreshing. Swimming till sunset, then fish and chips in the park with a thousand screaming seagulls. That's how you spend December.' He dropped into an armchair and draped his legs over the side.

Felicity didn't look up from her puzzle. ‘Mm-hmm,' she said. ‘What's a six letter word for tedious? Starts with B.'

‘Um…boring?'

‘That's it,' Felicity said, filling in the squares. ‘Boring.'

‘Yeah. And what's with all this rain? All the time. And when it's not raining the sun's gone by, what, three o'clock in the afternoon? That's just ridiculous.'

‘Uh-huh,' Felicity said. ‘How about a seven letter word starting with W that means constant complaining?'

Gerald thought for a second. ‘Whining?'