I stuck the memory stick into a USB port before I could change my mind. Searching through the contents, I found only mail message directories. Holding my breath, I went for it. I copied all the data from the memory key to the hard disk. I had no problem getting into his mail messages either.
And he had loads. I displayed the list of all his mail messages sent out over the last month and it literally ran into the hundreds. I called up some likely-looking ones and it was all finance or snotty instructions to people I didn’t know. But then I hit upon something strange.
One of the messages I retrieved didn’t have Marcus Pardela’s name at the bottom of it as all the others did. Instead it said, PAUL S. C. DARMARE.
So Marcus Pardela knew this mystery man. But I was still in the dark. Why on earth was Paul Darmare using Marcus Pardela’s account to send messages when he could just as easily set up his own account? I entered the command to display only those mail messages that had Paul Darmare’s name in them somewhere. There were quite a few. Most of them were to do with financial stuff, but a number of them were sarcastic memos sent out to slag off the recipient. Paul Darmare was obviously just as charming as Marcus Pardela …
And then it hit me – like a bolt of lightning.
It couldn’t be … It just couldn’t be …
Writing Paul S. C. Darmare’s name down on a piece of paper, I then rearranged the letters. I was right. The evidence was in front of me and yet I still found it hard to believe I was right. If you rearranged the letters of Paul S. C. Darmare you got … Marcus Pardela.
There was no doubt about it. I went back to the SHELBY file I’d copied up from Mum’s phone. No doubt about it.
ANTIDOTE had been set up and funded by Marcus Pardela.
But why? I couldn’t believe Marcus Pardela set up ANTIDOTE out of the goodness of his heart, so why? Unless … unless it was to make sure that he always had total control of ANTIDOTE. Having a mole at their offices obviously wasn’t enough. If he owned the entire organization, he could set them on his rivals whenever he wanted to. And it would also provide him with a good way of finding out exactly who his opponents were.
I sat back, as the full implications of what he’d done hit me. Is that what he’d meant in his original memo when he told Joshua Shelby to remember ‘just whose idea all this was in the first place’? At last it all made sense. The march against Shelby’s over the weekend had just been – what do they call it? – window dressing. And he’d managed to make ANTIDOTE look bad because of the fire at Shelby’s. But now I thought about it, ANTIDOTE were a lot more active in pursuing other chemical and pharmaceutical companies.
Did that mean that more people than Sarah Irving were reporting back to Marcus Pardela? I couldn’t believe that all those people at ANTIDOTE would work there, knowing that their wages, their funding, everything they were was a direct result of Marcus Pardela’s scheming.
The phone had rung a few times before I realized it. I bounded down the stairs and picked it up.
‘Hello?’
‘Elliot? Thank God you’re OK.’
‘Mum! Mum, I’ve figured it out from your phone,’ I burst out. ‘ANTIDOTE was set up by Marcus Pardela. That’s what he and that other guy, Joshua Shelby, are so desperate to keep hidden. That’s the real deal, I’m sure of it.’
‘Elliot …’
‘I managed to decode the file on your phone. It was signed by someone called Paul S. C. Darmare, but that’s just an anagram for Marcus Pardela,’ I rushed on. ‘Is that why they set up you and Uncle Robert? Because they didn’t want you decoding the SHELBY file and making the information public?’
Click …
Only then did I remember what Mum had said about our phone being bugged. I stared at the receiver, horrified. I could’ve bitten my tongue off. How could I be so stupid!
‘Mum, I’m sorry …’
‘Elliot, listen to me very carefully,’ Mum said. There was no trace of a smile in her voice. She sounded … she was frightened and for the first time she made no attempt to hide it. ‘I want you to reformat my hard disk to wipe out everything on it. Then I want you to reset my phone to wipe out everything on that. Then you’re to leave the house and not enter it again until I get back. Is that understood?’
‘But Mum …’
‘IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?’ Mum shouted at me.
Click …
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘You’re to leave that house and not say a word about what you found out to anyone. Do you promise me?’
‘Yes, Mum, but I …’
‘Elliot, do as I tell you right now. There’s no time to waste.’
‘OK, but …’
‘Elliot, I …’
There was a muffled sound, followed by a bang as if the receiver had been dropped. It sounded like thunder in my ear.
‘Mum? Mum?’
There was no answer.
‘Mum?’ I tried again.
It wasn’t as if the phone had been replaced. There was no dialling tone, just an eerie silence.
I hung up, wondering what had happened. Mum must’ve seen something and had to make a run for it. But Pardela’s lot would never catch up with my mum. She was too smart for them. Still, if Mum wanted me to delete all the data on her hard disk, that’s what I’d do. But she hadn’t said anything about printing out a few details first.
Wednesday
Chapter Twenty
The Letter
AS I ATE my breakfast on Wednesday morning, it was as if the whole weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders. I was still kicking myself for blurting everything out over the phone, but at least Marcus Pardela knew that Mum and I were on to him. Now Mum had some ammunition to make him confess the truth – that Mum didn’t break into his building. He’d have to confess that he got someone to set up Mum and Uncle Robert, and our lives could go back to what they were. But looking around the breakfast table, I was the only one who didn’t have a face like a handful of mince – as Nosh would say.
Halle’s eyes were red and Nosh was concentrating on his breakfast without looking at me.
‘Halle, Julian’s OK. That memory stick did contain his dad’s mail messages. I think everything he said was true,’ I told her.
She looked up, frowning. ‘You believe him.’
‘Yeah. After all, he didn’t have to help me,’ I replied.
‘He should have told me the truth.’
‘But I can see why he didn’t,’ I said carefully.
Nosh’s dad watched us, his ears and eyes peeled. ‘Have you broken up with your boyfriend, then?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Halle replied.
‘There’s something more going on here. Would someone like to bring me up to date?’ Nosh’s dad asked hopefully.
‘No!’ Halle, Nosh and I all spoke in unison.
It broke the ice. We glanced around the table and started laughing.
‘Hhmm!’ Nosh’s dad returned to his toast, still keeping his eyes on us.
‘Elliot, you’ve got a letter.’ Nosh’s mum entered the kitchen, surprise in her voice. ‘It was sent here. No … Hang on, it hasn’t got a stamp on it. It must’ve been hand delivered.’
She handed it over and I tore the envelope open. It had to be from Mum, giving me further instructions. It wasn’t.
Dear Elliot,
How are you? We thought you’d be pleased to know that your mother is with us. She’s perfectly safe and looking forward to seeing you again. Be ready to be picked up by car at nine o’clock tonight, so you can be with her. Everything has been arranged. Don’t be alarmed but your mother is a bit under the weather. Nothing too serious, she’s just desperate to see you again. As close as you two are, I’m sure you realize that her health and happiness all depend on you. She’d rather you told no one the contents of this letter. As far as this whole Shelby business is concerned, we’re still watching and listening – to ensure the safety of everyone concerned. Don’t worry about a thing – we’re everyw
here.
Also, your mother would like you to bring her mobile telephone and all the print-outs you made yesterday. I’m sure you won’t mind doing that. It’s what your mother wants. I look forward to seeing you again later, but not as much as your mother does.
Steve
And there, stuck to the bottom of the letter was the locket I’d bought Mum for her birthday last year. She never, ever took it off.
So it was true. They did have her.
My head was spinning. My stomach was heaving about like clothes in a washing-machine. I read the letter again, and then a third time. I unstuck the locket and gripped it in my fist.
‘Elliot, are you OK?’ Nosh asked.
I looked up, but I’d barely heard Nosh. The whole kitchen was swimming around my head.
‘Elliot, what’s wrong?’ Nosh’s mum asked. ‘Was that letter bad news?’
I looked down at the letter in my hand, still in a daze. Nosh’s mum walked around the breakfast table to read the letter over my shoulder. Only then did I break out of my stupor. I crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in my pocket.
Nosh’s mum veered off to the fridge to get some more milk. I knew I’d been rude – especially after all she’d done for me – but … but they had Mum. I suddenly felt so sick. What on earth could they hope to achieve? If they listened in on my conversation with Mum – and they obviously had – then they must know that Mum told me to keep my mouth shut, and I’d done exactly that.
The print-outs …
The letter said I should bring the print-outs. How had they known I’d made any in the first place? Unless more than the phone was bugged in our house? Was that possible? I gritted my teeth. I should’ve thought of that before. If that was the case, then they’d been on to us every step of the way. Maybe they didn’t expect me to get this far? Maybe they didn’t expect that I’d find out the truth about ANTIDOTE? But all that was beside the point now. They had Mum. And at nine o’clock tonight, they’d have me as well.
I had to do something. Had to. But what? My mind was a blank. I was desperate. What could I do? Think! Think!
I looked around the kitchen frantically, hoping, I suppose, that some idea would leap out at me from behind the hob or something. Only then did I realize that every eye was on me. I lowered my gaze at once and carried on with my breakfast.
‘Elliot …’ Nosh’s dad began, uncertainly. ‘You do know that if you’re in trouble, any kind of trouble, we’d all help out, in any way we could.’
‘Thanks,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s just that … just that, Mum’s sending someone to pick me up at nine o’clock tonight.’
It was the only thing I could think of. I had to give them a reason why I needed to leave the house later without being asked too many questions.
‘That letter was from your mum?’ Nosh’s eyes were wide.
‘No, it was from a … friend of hers. She’s sending a car to pick me up later. She wants us to be together,’ I explained.
‘Elliot, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea …’ Nosh’s mum began.
‘I want to be with my mum,’ I interrupted. ‘Please don’t try and stop me. We will be back. It’s not for ever.’
Only, as I said it, I realized that that’s exactly what it might be. If I didn’t come up with something – fast – Mum and I would disappear for ever.
‘Let me see the letter,’ Nosh’s mum ordered.
My hand flew protectively to the outside of my pocket.
‘Elliot, I’m not letting you go anywhere until I see that letter,’ said Nosh’s mum.
Reluctantly, I dug out the letter and read it again myself – even though every word was burned into my brain. It was a clever letter, very clever indeed. It was full of threats and hidden meanings but anyone reading it without knowing what was going on, would take it for what it seemed – perfectly harmless. I handed it over to Nosh’s mum. I stared at her as she read, willing her to go beyond the words and realize the menace of the letter, willing her to read my mind and know just how terrified I really was. After a few moments, Nosh’s mum passed it back.
‘Who’s Steve?’ Nosh’s mum questioned.
‘A friend of Mum’s,’ I replied instantly. ‘Nosh has met him.’
Nosh stared when I said that.
‘Remember? The guy with the pony-tail who told us about my uncle?’ I said carefully. I had no idea if I was right, but I suspected that I was.
‘Oh – him …’ Nosh said. ‘Yeah, I’ve met him all right.’
‘From your voice, I take it you didn’t like him much,’ Nosh’s dad smiled.
‘Not much.’ Nosh regarded the letter in my hand. Quickly I crumpled it and put it in my pocket again. I didn’t want anyone else asking to read it – especially not Nosh. He’d know what it meant straight away. I needn’t have worried. Nosh bowed his head and concentrated on his breakfast. I don’t know if I was glad or disappointed. Maybe a little of both.
‘OK, Elliot. I guess that’s all right, then,’ Nosh’s mum said doubtfully. She frowned at her husband but said nothing else.
I slumped in my chair. If only there was someone I could safely confide in. If only there was someone I could tell.
And that’s when it occurred to me that there was someone – or rather, something – I could tell. I’d dictate the whole thing into Mum’s PC and give Nosh the recordings on a CD. Marcus Pardela wouldn’t have things all his own way.
Marcus Pardela. I hated him so much, it scared me. I’d never even met the man, only seen him on telly. And yet he had the power to rule over our lives, to turn them upside down. To try and get rid of us like so much rubbish. I wouldn’t let him get away with it. I wouldn’t.
So that’s it, Nosh. The whole story. In case you’re wondering, that’s a CD I’ve got playing in the background. It was to stop Pardela and his lot from eavesdropping on me, just in case there is a bug in this room. All they’d pick up is Tinie Tempah’s voice, but the PC picked up mine.
So, as I said at the beginning, Nosh, if I’m not back tomorrow, take this CD to the police. Don’t let Pardela get away with it. I’m counting on you. Don’t let me down.
Now
Chapter Twenty-One
The Encounter
I SAT IN the back of the car, looking out of the window. The guy with the pony-tail who’d chased Mum sat beside me. There was no getting away from the satisfied smirk on his face. He thought his side had won. Well, maybe they’d won the battle but they wouldn’t win the war. I turned back to the car window, drinking in every sight, every sound we passed – as if I was experiencing them for the first time. As if I’d never experience them again. The darkness, the street lights, the people, the shops … they were all precious.
The minutes dragged into hours and still we kept driving – until, at last, the car turned down a driveway and stopped outside a large farmhouse, with what looked like a barn next to it. I could only see that much because of the light coming from the farmhouse itself. I looked up. There were no stars. It must’ve been too cloudy, but it was too dark to even see the clouds. I’d never seen darkness like it. It was as if the whole world except for the two buildings before me had been swallowed up. Or maybe we were the ones who’d fallen off the edge of the world.
The driver leapt out of the car, then opened my door. He didn’t wait for me to step out. He dragged me out.
‘Watch it,’ I hissed at him.
Smiler grinned maliciously at me and took over the grip on my arm, digging his fingers into my flesh. With a spiteful yank, he pulled me towards the house. The front door opened even before we got there – and I got my first sight of Marcus Pardela, in the flesh. He was taller than I’d expected, taller and thinner. Smiler pushed me past him and into one of the rooms on the ground floor. It was huge and covered in floor-to-ceiling shelves, each crammed with books.
‘Thanks, Steve. Wait outside until I call you,’ Marcus commanded.
So I was right. He was Steve. I wondered why he bothered to use his re
al name in the letter he left for me. But then, why not? He didn’t leave his surname, so there was no way to trace him.
‘Elliot!’
‘Mum!’
Only then did Smiler let me go. I flew to Mum and we hugged each other, tight, tight. She looked so tired and unhappy. Smiler left the room, without saying a word.
‘You don’t need to do this, Pardela. Let my son go,’ Mum said over my head.
‘He knows as much, if not more than you do,’ Marcus Pardela replied. ‘How can I let him go?’
‘I don’t care about you or your business,’ I shouted at him. ‘I just wanted to do something to help Mum.’
‘You should’ve worried less about her and more about yourself,’ Marcus told me.
‘What’re you going to do with us?’ Mum asked softly.
‘Elliot, give me the print-outs you made yesterday,’ Marcus demanded.
He walked over to me, his hand outstretched. I would’ve liked to spit in his eye, if I could reach it, but reluctantly I did as he asked.
‘Are these the only copies?’
I nodded.
‘And your mum’s telephone, if you don’t mind,’ Marcus smarmed.
‘I do mind,’ I told him. But I handed that over as well.
Someone else moved out of the shadows in one corner of the room. I hadn’t even realized that there was someone there until he walked towards us.
‘Marcus, I don’t like this …’
‘Ian Macmillan!’ I said, aghast.
‘Marcus,’ Ian frowned, ‘I want to be well away from this place, before … before …’
‘Say it,’ Mum ordered. ‘Before he gets rid of my son and me. Before we disappear. Before he kills us. Because that’s what he’s going to do. Oh, he won’t do it personally – he wouldn’t get his own hands dirty, but he’ll have it done. That’s the kind of man you’re working for, Ian.’