Tools and boxes and bits of wood soared into the air. A tornado of nails whirled around the garage. Beside me, Ketty darted over to the car. She crouched behind it, shielding her head.
Instinctively, I summoned my force field. I stared at Nico. He looked as furious as I’d ever seen him. Red-faced, eyes bulging, he ran towards Milton and McKenna, hurling the storm of teleported items towards them.
Jez and Alex rushed over to Ketty, still crouching behind the car.
‘Get her out of here!’ Jez yelled at Alex. ‘I’ll deal with Nico.’
But Ketty had frozen. Like me, she seemed transfixed by Nico’s outburst. He was still forcing the ladder he’d teleported across the garage against the two scientists. Nails and drill bits and pieces of wood were slamming into the wall behind them. Both Milton and McKenna were shrieking their heads off, struggling to get free, but Nico held them pinned against the wall.
The ladder had fixed Milton at chest level. Head ducked to avoid all the implements rushing by, he was trying to push the ladder away. McKenna, on the other hand, was trapped at the neck, the ladder pressing against her windpipe. She was gasping, clearly struggling to breathe.
Work tools soared around their heads: a drill, a sander, a whole case of screwdrivers . . . stray items careered out of orbit, narrowly missing the car and Jez, Alex, Ketty and me.
‘Stop, Nico!’ Ketty yelled, banging on the car roof. ‘Stop!’
Nico didn’t even seem to hear her.
‘Do something, Dylan!’ Ketty shouted. ‘He’s out of control, he’s going to kill them.’
She was right. Nico’s rage had taken over . . . he looked insane . . .
And then I saw the hammer hurtling towards me.
It was coming. Closer and closer. About to smash into my face.
12: Hidden
No time to think.
Force field fully engaged, I reached up and deflected the hammer away with my fist.
I ran to Nico and grabbed his shoulder.
‘Enough!’ I yelled in his ear. ‘Enough!’
Like a light switching off, the telekinesis stopped. All the objects in the air fell to the ground. Nico slumped, arms at his side, as if he were suddenly exhausted. In a single, swift movement, Ketty raced over and flung her arms around him.
He pressed his face into her hair. As Jez and Alex moved in on Milton and McKenna, I caught Nico’s agonised whisper.
‘I thought they would kill you, babe,’ he said. ‘I knew they were after Dylan and I thought they would kill you before I got here.’
He hugged her tighter as she whispered something I couldn’t hear in his ear.
I looked away.
Jez and Alex put handcuffs on the two scientists and led them out of the garage. I went over to the workbench where Milton had been dissecting my parents’ ring. Nothing remained: it had all been swept up in the tornado of Nico’s telekinesis. A metallic glint on the floor caught my eye. I bent down. It was a fraction of the ring. Solid white gold with my dad’s initials visible on one side: WF.
‘Do you think we can put it together again?’ It was Ed. I hadn’t noticed him come up beside me.
I shook my head. ‘They cut it into too many pieces.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Ed said.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ I said the words, but they weren’t true. It did matter. I’d lost my mother’s wedding ring. It was irreplaceable.
I suddenly felt desperately, horribly alone.
I glanced at Ed. He offered a rueful, sympathetic smile.
His sympathy was the last thing I wanted.
‘I don’t want Geri to know they were after the code,’ I said. ‘She’ll be all over my parents’ stuff, looking for it herself.’
Ed grimaced. ‘Geri already knows,’ he said. ‘I mind-read everything that was happening to you guys from Ketty. I told Jez, then Jez phoned Geri and told her.’
‘What?’ I made a face. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘I was trying to help,’ Ed said.
I groaned, looking over at the garage door where Jez had his gun trained on Milton and McKenna. Alex stood slightly to one side, speaking to someone on her phone.
‘She’s calling the police,’ Ed said. ‘Alex and Jez had a rough time of it, too, you know. Those scientists took them by surprise, tied them up and left them in the bushes. We only found them because Jez was thrashing about, making such a noise. They were beside themselves with worry about you.’
‘Whatever.’ I still felt irritated that Ed had been so quick to reveal everything to Geri. Okay, I could see he was just being efficient, but it sucked, big-time, that Geri now knew there was another copy of the Medusa gene code.
‘The police are on their way.’ Alex came over. She handed Ketty and me our phones back. ‘Jez is going to stay here with Milton and McKenna until the police arrive. I’m taking you four back home.’
As she checked out the car, Nico and Ketty walked up. Nico’s face was unnaturally pale and there were dark rings under his eyes. He kept his arm across Ketty’s shoulders, holding onto her as if scared to let her go. Ketty gazed up at him, her golden-brown eyes full of affection.
Nico gripped my arm. ‘Thanks for stopping me.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Ketty added, turning to me with a smile.
I shrugged, feeling awkward. I knew I should really be apologising for screwing everything up in Henson’s house. Jez always told us to switch off our cell phones before a mission. It was totally my fault that I’d forgotten.
But the words stuck in my throat.
One of the car windows had been smashed in the telekinetic whirlwind Nico had created earlier. Alex taped a plastic bag across the broken glass, then the five of us got into the car and drove off.
I fell into an uneasy sleep about halfway home. When I woke, we were zooming along a deserted motorway. Ed sensed me moving and looked round. I suddenly remembered seeing him with that ugly, serrated knife from the weapons box in Roger Henson’s bedroom.
‘Do you still have the knife from Henson’s house?’ I asked Ed.
‘Yeah, I gave it to Jez. It’s enough to connect Henson to the murder,’ he said. ‘We’ve done everything we can on that mission. It’s up to the police now.’
‘That’s good.’
My mind went back to Milton and McKenna. They’d been so sure the Medusa code was in Mom’s wedding ring. And yet it hadn’t been.
So where was it?
I tried to work out where on earth it could be, but the image of the ring cut up in pieces kept creeping into my mind and I stayed awake the rest of the way back to the Lake District.
As soon as we arrived at the cottage, Alex, Nico, Ed and Ketty went up to bed, but I wandered outside to the back yard. Geri found me a few minutes later.
‘Dylan, are you all right? What a terrible ordeal you’ve been through, dear.’ I sensed she was genuinely concerned, but at the same time eager for information. ‘And why didn’t you tell me about the texts those scientists were sending you?’ she went on in a horrified, slightly scolding tone.
I sighed. ‘Milton and McKenna said they didn’t send the texts.’
‘Ah,’ Geri said. ‘Do you think they were telling the truth?’
‘I guess.’ I paused. ‘Did . . . do you know them?’
‘No.’ Geri shook her head vigorously. ‘But your dad was very secretive about his work. I didn’t know any of his colleagues by name.’
I nodded. A cold breeze rustled the trees behind us. I went to twist Mom’s wedding ring round my finger, then remembered it was gone. Geri pulled her jacket around her more tightly. She seemed lost in thought.
‘I suppose if Milton and McKenna didn’t send those texts, then more people must know about your copy of the Medusa code, which makes finding it even more of a priority.’ She paused. ‘I don’t want to alarm you, but I don’t think you’ll be safe until we know exactly where it is.’
I stared at her. A shiver snaked down my spine.
‘Can y
ou think where else the code might be hidden?’ Geri went on.
I shook my head.
Geri pursed her lips. I was sure she was trying to work out how to suggest we went through my parents’ possessions without upsetting me.
I couldn’t bear the thought of her – of anyone – poring over Mom and Dad’s things. At least not right now.
‘I’m really tired,’ I said. ‘Maybe we could do all this in the morning?’
‘Of course.’ Geri smiled sympathetically. She patted my arm – a slightly awkward gesture. Geri isn’t exactly the touchy-feely type. ‘I’m so glad you’re all right. Now get some sleep.’
I trudged upstairs, feeling slightly better. Geri wasn’t the warmest person in the world, but at least she cared about me . . . about us.
I went into the bedroom I shared with Ketty and sat on my bed. Considering how little either of us had with us, the room was a mess. Ketty’s clothes – a mix of tracksuits, jeans and sweaters – were dotted across the floor. Her bed was unmade from this morning, the ripped undersheet dangling from the mattress. I reached for Mom’s mother-of-pearl box and opened it. There were all her things, just as before. The Tiffany diary, which I’d stuck back together, the letters and other papers, the white-gold ‘Ashley’ necklace, the silver bangles . . .
I picked each item up in turn. The code could be concealed in any of the pieces of jewellery. I weighed the bangles in my hand. They felt heavy . . . solid . . . like the ring . . . I couldn’t believe anything was hidden inside them. I mean, how would Dad know for sure these things would end up with me? And yet I was certain that, tomorrow, Geri was going to insist everything got taken away and thoroughly examined, just to be sure.
My heart sank. Harry popped, unbidden, into my mind. I reached for my cell phone. At least I had a reason to call him now – to tell him what had happened.
As I found his number, the bedroom door opened and Ketty and Ed came in. I put down my phone. I didn’t want to call Harry with an audience.
‘Hi, Dylan,’ Ketty yawned. ‘Are you tired, too?’
‘I guess.’
‘Nico’s already asleep.’
‘It’s late,’ Ed said. He shuffled from foot to foot.
I glanced at the time on my phone. Jeez, it was past 2 a.m. I couldn’t very well call Harry now. I lay back on my bed. What would I say when I did speak to him?
I thought it through. At least three sets of people appeared to know my dad had left a second copy of the Medusa code in my possession: Harry and his dad; Milton and McKenna; and whoever was sending me the threatening texts, warning me not to look for it. It seemed likely that whoever was sending the texts was also the person who killed my dad, but there was no way of knowing that for sure.
It was all so confusing.
‘Dylan?’ It was Ed.
I looked round. He and Ketty were both staring at me. I got the impression they’d been saying my name for a while.
‘What?’
‘Ketty had an idea,’ Ed said. ‘A way I could help you work out where the code is . . . before the authorities get involved.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘If I don’t know, I don’t see how you’ll be able to help.’
‘Just listen, Dylan,’ Ketty urged. ‘I think it could work.’
‘I don’t want you messing up all my stuff,’ I said. ‘And there isn’t any other way to find the code because – as I keep telling everyone – I have no idea where it is.’
‘Actually, you probably do . . .’ Ed said. ‘At least the memory of your parents talking about it is probably buried somewhere in your head.’
‘But I was a baby,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t have understood what they were saying.’
‘If you sensed it was important, the memory would still probably be accessible, even if you didn’t properly understand it at the time.’
I swallowed, thinking through what Ed was saying . . . what he was hinting at . . .
‘Do you think you could mind-read me and see all that?’ I asked.
‘It’s worth a try,’ Ed said.
‘Though it doesn’t help us work out what to do with the code once we’ve got it,’ Ketty added.
I felt for the phone in my hand. Harry’s dad would help me work out what to do with the code. I was sure of it. He’d known all along my dad had left it with me . . . he could have come after it at any point in the past fifteen years if he’d just wanted to own the code himself. Instead, he’d only got involved when he knew I was in danger, sending Harry to warn me about Milton and McKenna.
I turned to Ed. ‘Okay, you can mind-read me, but only on condition that you don’t go snooping around in my head.’
‘I promise.’ Ed came over and sat beside me on the bed. ‘The easiest way in is if you let yourself think about your parents . . . go back to the last memory you have.’
I stared at him. ‘I don’t have any memories.’
‘Not even of your mum?’ Ketty said. ‘I know your dad died when you were a baby, but all our mums lived until we were at least four. I can remember a few things, can’t—’
‘My mom died when I was two,’ I said defiantly.
‘Oh.’ Ketty’s face reddened. ‘Sorry, I didn’t know.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Ed put his hand on my arm. ‘Just let yourself think about them. If they’re at the surface of your thoughts, it’s the easiest way in for me.’
I looked him in the eye. ‘Go for it.’
Whoosh.
In an instant he was there, inside my head.
I kept my thoughts on the contents of my mom’s little box. I could feel Ed’s own thoughts curl gently around them, like a wisp of smoke around a draught.
Let’s go deeper, he thought-spoke, his voice very soft. Come with me. You can stop me whenever you want.
Okay.
I felt the tug of his mind pulling me into my own. It was the weirdest sensation, like someone else was leading me through my own head.
We were back in time. Aunt Patrice was with me, looking at Mom’s things . . . the diary . . . the wedding ring, the bangles . . . her solemn voice. ‘Your mother was in a state of terrible grief . . . it was a cry for help . . .’
All my instincts wanted to resist . . . to push Ed away, but I could also feel him holding back slightly, letting me keep some control over what we were doing.
Are you all right, Dylan? Is this okay? Ed’s thought-speech was irritatingly anxious.
Peachy. Get on with it.
Ed dived in deeper, back through my childhood. Times I’d thought about my parents like my first day at school . . . drawing a picture of ‘my family’ based on the one photo I had of me and Mom and Dad, then Patrice sniffing disdainfully that the picture didn’t show her or my uncle or Paige or Tod.
Back, back in time, to less coherent memories, of a dog barking in a park . . . the fringed edge of a tartan rug, rough against my fingers . . . Paige prodding me in the stomach . . . saying, ‘You smell, Dilly . . .’ And then even further back to a room I had no conscious memory of . . . but was deeply familiar to me . . . my mother’s face smiling through the bars of my crib . . . and then a swirl of images, all the times and places mixed up . . . yellow curtains with a pattern of beach balls rising and falling in the breeze . . . my dad lifting me high in the air over his head . . . me squealing with delight . . . Mom’s anxious voice . . . a voice I didn’t remember, but recognised instantly . . . ‘Be careful, Will, put her down’ . . . a mobile above my head . . . a teddy bear with a torn ear . . . the sound of a car . . . my dad, huge and smelling of the outside world, holding me in his arms, offering me a bottle . . . his voice gentle as he spoke to the person next to him . . . me sucking greedily at the wonderful creamy milk as his soft Scottish accent whispered: ‘. . . The most precious expression of our love’ . . . the smell of perfume . . . gentle hands wrapping me in a blanket . . . and then tears . . . and terror . . . a fear of something . . . the known world collapsing around me . . . Mom’s face blank and pale and moaning as she
rocked me . . . ‘I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry, this is too hard . . .’
My mind lurched, then shuddered. Ed was pulling me away.
I realised I didn’t want to go. There were memories here I wanted . . . needed . . .
Nooo. I called out in thought-speak.
We have to go.
No.
And then whoosh, Ed was gone. My mind felt raw, the memories ebbing away like a dream you can’t hold onto as you wake.
‘No,’ I moaned out loud, rocking backwards and forwards.
‘Dylan?’ Ed’s voice beside me. His arm around my shoulders. ‘I’m so sorry.’
His words and touch brought me back to the room. I opened my eyes. Ed was right next to me, his eyes filled with tears. Ketty was still standing by the bed, her mouth open in horror.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Ed said. ‘I didn’t think about how you’d see all that . . . how . . .’ His voice cracked. ‘How hard it would be . . . and your mum . . .’ He tailed off. I knew he meant my mom’s depression and the way her words about things being ‘too hard’ prefigured her suicide.
As I pulled away from him, I realised that tears were streaming down my face and my hands were clenched tightly into fists.
I wanted to lie to them and pretend it was fine . . . I was fine . . . even deny the suicide . . . but I couldn’t. I was too full of the hurt of what I’d seen. My parents had loved me so much and all that love had been torn away from us . . . from me. Because someone murdered my father and, in the end, my mom had chosen death, too, which meant . . . which meant . . . I could hardly bear to admit it to myself . . . I wasn’t enough to make her stay.
I turned my face to the wall, tears still leaking uncontrollably out of my eyes.
‘It didn’t work,’ Ed explained dully to Ketty. ‘We didn’t see anything about any of those things Dylan has . . . It was just horrible to feel all that pain . . . and for nothing . . .’
As he spoke, one of the memories I’d just raked up floated to the surface of my mind again. What were my dad’s exact words?