The Messenger Bird Page 10

  The newspaper headline banged into my head. TRAITOR! TRAITOR! The jeering kids in the street. Then I couldn’t read any more. I held on to the edge of the table.

  And then Sasha and Josh were either side of me, familiar voices from far away, calling out my name.

  10

  Lion Eagle

  “Nathan!” Sasha pushed a steaming cup across the table.

  We were in the Bletchley Park café by the lake, huddled by the window.

  I didn’t have time for stupid hot chocolate! We had to get on with the trail; work out what lion eagle meant. Sasha must have seen how impatient I was.

  “Just a quick break,” she said. “To plan our next move.”

  “You’ve had a nasty shock,” said Josh, tucking into the plate of cakes Sasha had ordered. “You need sugar.”

  I sat up a little, gazing at the murk outside through the speckles of melting snow on the glass. Was that a figure standing watching by the lake? I squinted at the water’s edge again, but there was no one.

  I picked at the icing on a vanilla slice with my finger.

  “They’re going to charge my dad,” I said numbly.

  “What?”

  I told them about Dad’s transfer.

  “Monday?” repeated Sasha. “Oh Nathan, no!”

  “I saw a film once where someone was charged with breaking the terrorism laws,” said Josh, “and it was really bad because…” He stopped and fiddled with his stuck-up hair. “Well, we need our combined brainpower if we’re going to solve the trail in time.” He turned to Sasha. “What about that file you pinched?”

  “I didn’t pinch it, OK?” said Sasha, all bossy and flustered. “I’m not getting it out in here.” She ripped a white sachet open and tipped the sugar in her drink, stirring it hard, and Josh went quiet and bit into a slice of jam sponge.

  An old couple came into the café and sat down. The café woman came to take away an old cup and smiled at us as she gave our table a quick wipe. A telly fixed on the wall droned in the background and a weatherman swept an arm across a big map of Britain. “A band of snow will be moving across the country over the next few days … unusual weather for this time of year… Only essential journeys are recommended in…”

  I braced myself, expected to see a story about Leon Vane the Traitor any minute, but none came. I swigged the syrupy leftovers of my lukewarm chocolate.

  Was Dad innocent? A terrible doubt niggled me, and I was ashamed for even thinking it. Dad was innocent, I told myself. He’d told me he was. I trusted him. I trusted him more than anyone.

  Twirling snowflakes caught on the café window and stayed there. I pressed my face against the cold glass as the drive got whiter. People hurried away under their umbrellas. The snow fell faster. Strange yellow clouds cast lemon-white light, and the ground was feathery and full of shadows, like night was almost here.

  My phone buzzed and I fished it out of my pocket and looked at the screen with its ghost-green letters.

  07700900583

  This is Lily. Help me Nath…

  Right then I could have half-believed it really was Lily sending me a message. Lily back from the grave. Lily wanting me to clear her name.

  I lowered my voice. “Lily texted me,” I said. “Twice.”

  Josh and Sasha looked at me like I was delirious.

  “I don’t really think it was her, do I?” I showed them the texts on my phone.

  Sasha gasped, and Josh put his cake down very slowly, missing his plate and smearing jam on the menu.

  “I’m sorry, Nathan,” said Josh, tugging an edge of tablecloth. “It’s probably my fault. When I said those things about Lily…”

  “Forget it,” I said. “I should have told you about the texts sooner. I guess I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “But I’m already scared,” said Josh. “Very scared. Don’t use your phone again!” he pleaded, rubbing his hands together over and over. “The corrupt staff could have hacked into it! Whatever you do, don’t text back either. Don’t use your phone for anything! Definitely no texts and definitely no talking!”

  “Josh’s right, Nathan,” said Sasha. “Be really careful.”

  I nodded grimly and watched Josh cleaning the menu with his sleeve.

  Then I grabbed it off him and stared at the top of the front cover. It was the photo I was interested in. It was a shot of the main door of the mansion… I stared and stared at the photo, and then, despite everything, I started laughing. I couldn’t help it.

  “What is it, Nathan?” Sasha and Josh probably thought I’d gone mental. I pointed and waited while the penny dropped. Josh looked at the photo, wide-eyed, then chuckled.

  Sasha jumped out of her chair and sprang up and down with excitement, making the old couple stare. “The griffins, Nathan,” she whispered. “The griffin statues either side of the mansion door! They’re half eagle and half lion!”

  Sasha turned to me, her eyes shining. “Your dad knew you’d work it out, Nathan. He believed in you, and we do too.” She gave my hand a squeeze, and Josh nodded.

  “Excellent!” he laughed, cramming cake in his mouth and stuffing the rest in his pockets as we pulled on our coats and made for the door.

  11

  The Old Griffins

  We didn’t have far to go. The mansion was right next door.

  The two stone griffins stood there, paws raised and frowning, as if they’d been waiting for us and were wondering what had taken us so long. If the workmen hadn’t been in the way, or that group of schoolkids…

  I peered around to check nobody was about, then started to look over the griffin on the left, while Sasha and Josh went for the one on the right. I ran my fingers over its smooth white wings and brushed the ice off its beak, looking for a carving, a message, anything. Maybe a secret opening with something shoved inside.

  The griffin still looked so clean after so many years, so new. Don’t panic, I told myself. I searched the surface of the statue, checking the grooves on the feathered neck and paws, pressing my fingertips in the ears and the clefts around its eyes.

  “I’m sorry to say this, Nathan,” said Josh after a few minutes, “but they don’t look very nineteen forties.”

  I knelt there on the icy ground, searching all around the base. Stop fooling yourself, I told myself. It was obvious these were new statues, not decades old. They couldn’t possibly be any part of Lily’s trail.

  My hands went slack. The snow turned to sleet and an icy wind blew it into our faces. We pulled up our hoods. Wafts of music sounded from inside the house, that same ballroom tune, over and over, doing my head in. Somewhere nearby was the sound of a running engine. A few people scuttled past us to get inside the house. The lake lay there like grey glass.

  A woman with an umbrella walked quickly past. The same lady who’d served us in the café.

  “Excuse me!” I shouted after her. “Wait!”

  She swivelled towards us, her face pinched up with cold.

  “The griffins,” I called. “Are they new?”

  She gave us a quick nod. “Big improvement on the others, if you ask me,” she said, battling with her umbrella.

  My heartbeat speeded up. “What do you mean?”

  “The old griffins.” She pulled her collar up around her neck. “In a terrible condition, they were.”

  She turned to go, but I fired another question. “What happened to them?”

  I dreaded her answer. They might be long gone, destroyed, along with any chance to save Dad.

  “They’re somewhere in the old storeroom,” the woman said, “last time I knew. Next to Hut 11? Yes, Hut 11, I think.” Then she hurried away.

  Sasha already had the map out and we scanned it. Josh pointed a finger. “That way!” he said, and we were off.

  We got to Hut 11. It had a run-down room next to it, an open-sided brick thing with a corrugated roof and a barrier of hexagonal chicken wire along the front. The brick side had a splintering wooden door with a padlock and a slightl
y open little window high up one wall. It was dingy inside and hard to make things out. It had all these bits of old stuff in there – a bike with a basket propped against one wall, planks leaned up against each other, and all kinds of metal pieces and coils of rope.

  But in the far corner…

  I put my face to the wire and squinted to make out the shapes…

  Two old griffin statues, huddled together in the shadows.

  “That’s them!” confirmed Sasha. She rattled the padlock on the door, then pulled at the chicken wire, but it wouldn’t budge. “How do we get in?”

  “We’re going to have to do breaking and entering!” said Josh, looking scared. “I’m the thinnest.” He stretched up towards the little window. “Maybe I could get through there if I breathed right in. Give me a lift up, Nathan,” he said, clawing at the wall.

  “Hang on!” I really didn’t like the idea of him going up, but what choice was there? I glanced around. The place was deserted. I crouched to the ground. “Climb up then, Josh.”

  I stood there with him wobbling on my shoulders. He was a lot heavier than he looked, a dead weight; must have been all those cakes. My back and neck were killing me. “Nearly!” called Josh. “Just a bit higher!”

  “It’s a lot easier with keys, young men.”

  I felt Josh grip my head and it took all my strength to stop him toppling sideways. I stooped to let him slide off and stood up straight with a groan.

  Percy stood there, arms folded. He was trying to look severe, but I saw a little smile on his lips. He took out a big bunch of keys. “If it isn’t our Josh and friends. More research? No homes to go to? What’s taken your interest in here, then?”

  We stood there, staring at him like idiots. Percy looked for the right key, waggling them one by one in the lock. “Awful state a lot of the Bletchley buildings were in,” he said. “Still are. National disgrace, if you ask me. There was even talk of knocking the whole place down, would you believe? We soon put a stop to that, thanks to our campaigning.” He searched through the bunch and stabbed in another key. “The work here shortened the war by two years, they say. National disgrace to even think about getting rid of it.”

  “Yes, Rose was telling me something about that,” said Josh. “On the way to the archive room.”

  “Eh?” said Percy. “Who? There we go!” The padlock snapped open and he pushed open the door.

  “Probably getting – you know – forgetful,” Josh whispered, but Sasha just raised her eyebrows at me.

  “Distract Percy while I check the griffins,” I muttered.

  I wandered away while Sash and Josh pretended to be really interested in the old bike and asked Percy loads of questions about its brake system and tyre pressure, and Josh actually sounded like he really was interested.

  I crouched by the old griffins, running my hands over their mottled grey stone feathers. They were so different to the ones by the mansion door. Their features were almost worn away. They smiled at me sadly with their crumbling mouths and I thought they looked more like decayed angels than griffins.

  “Closing time soon, kids,” I heard Percy say. “We’re shutting up earlier today, on account of the snow clogging up the roads.”

  I winced. I’d thought we had longer.

  “You should be getting home, and me too,” went on Percy. “I’ve done my shift for today and my missus will have the tea on. Likes me to be on time, she does. There’s trouble if I’m not!”

  I scanned the pitted stone, the rough scraggy wings. There had to be something! Hurry! I twisted my head to look. Then, on the back of the neck, I found a neat little engraving of a full moon with a crescent shape inside with lines coming from it.

  I checked the other griffin. It had the same thing, only…

  I couldn’t believe it!

  On this griffin there were extra lines, scratched hard in the stone.

  The lines made the central moonbeam into an arrow, and at the end of the arrow … I rubbed my fingers over the marks … a star had been gouged, a four-pointed star with wonky lines, like it had been done in a great big hurry.

  The next clue! It had to be. Lily’s next clue! I didn’t have a pen and paper, but I had to record the picture somehow. I remembered the camera on my phone and without thinking I pulled it out and took a picture with that, the flash filling the space with light.

  Too late, I remembered what Josh had said about my phone being hacked.

  “Taking pictures as well now, are you?” smiled Percy, heading for the door, steering us in front of him. “All very Secret Service! I really do need to be going, though, kids. All out now, please – that’s the ticket! No doubt we’ll meet again.”

  We watched Percy hurry through a side gate in the chain-link fence, pull it shut behind him and disappear off.

  “Please don’t tell me you used your phone,” said Josh, hopping from foot to foot as I held out the screen for them to see.

  So stupid! “It’s too late to worry,” I said, all worried. “Just look.”

  They peered at the fuzzy photo. “He found the next clue, Josh!” cried Sasha, dancing a bit in the snow. “Nathan found it!”

  “Any ideas, though?” I said.

  Josh scratched his head. “A moonbeam pointing to a star? Nothing comes to mind just yet.”

  That’s when I saw the bunch of keys still hanging from the storeroom padlock. I took a quick look around and then I shoved them in my pocket.

  “You can’t!” said Josh, horrified. “They’re Percy’s!”

  “They could be useful,” I said, trying to convince myself that what I was doing wasn’t all that terrible. “Say we need to get back inside this shed and take another look at the griffin.” I looked at Sasha and she gave a small shrug.

  “You’re just borrowing them,” she said. “You’ll give them back.”

  “Closing time, kids.”

  We spun round to see a man standing there, the same security guard we’d seen on our way in. Had he seen me grab the keys? I thought in a panic.

  “I’ll escort you to the gate,” he said. He still wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t just asking either.

  We followed him back the way we’d come, and he stood watching us as we trooped out past the car park, and that’s when we saw the car.

  It was in amongst the other parked cars, and it had tinted windows. I caught my breath. The driver’s window was slightly down, but we couldn’t see in. The glass slid closed and the car pulled away.

  “Do you think that was them?” gabbled Josh. “The same people sending the texts? The ones trying to frame your dad?”

  “Let’s get home,” whispered Sasha, pulling at my arm.

  “They’re just trying to scare us off,” I said, my voice shaky. “Just act normal.”

  Josh fumbled a serviette parcel from his pocket and took out a mangled chocolate éclair, nearly dropping it. “Beethoven, by the way,” he said nervously as we set off, his cheeks full up like a hamster.

  “What?” I walked along, trying not to hurry, trying to look normal. What had Josh said?

  “That music they were playing in the ballroom,” he munched. “Der, der, der. Der, der, der. Der, der, der. Der, der, der. It came to me. It’s by Beethoven. Ludwig van Beethoven.” Josh ate a last fragment of éclair and wiped the cream from his mouth with his sleeve as we headed for the bus stop.

  “It’s the music of the Moonlight Sonata.”

  12

  Moonlight Sonata

  Dad is at the piano in the front room, playing the same notes over and over, a ball and chain tied round one ankle. I’m outside, looking in through the big bay window.

  Big logs blaze in the fireplace and there are noises overhead, like planes doing low passes over the house, but when I look up the sky is pitch back and I don’t see a thing. I press my nose against the cold glass. There’s a dropped cigarette on the rug in front of the fire, sending up coils of smoke.

  I shout. Tap on the window.

  Dad carries on play
ing. He has a mask on now, a grinning mask like the guy on the bonfire, and now there is a ring of flames dancing around the cigarette stub.

  I tap harder.

  The sound of planes gets louder, but I still can’t see anything.

  A snake of fire slips across the carpet. The curtains catch light. I bang on the glass and it’s warm under my palm and I’m yelling, screaming for Dad to stop, to get out. But he carries on sitting there, playing the piano, smoke thick around him. Not hearing. Not listening. And right above me is the wailing of bombs being dropped. Bombs falling through the air until the screeching hurts my ears.

  Someone stumbles behind me, grips my arm. I spin round and there is Lily, her hair all messed up, her eyes wild, her mouth wide. “Help me, Nat!” she screams. “I have to save my dad. I have to break the Enigma. I have to save my…”

  DAD!

  My eyes snapped open and I sat up. My bedroom was deadly quiet and a yellowish light was coming through my curtains. The fabric moved from some invisible draught. The pane was powdered with snow. I pulled the duvet round me, shivering, letting my bad dream sink away.

  There was the smell of bacon cooking and it dawned on me that it was my birthday. The thirteenth of November. Sunday. I was thirteen now. Mum must be making me my birthday breakfast.

  I didn’t want it to be my birthday – there were too many other things to think about, like solving the trail before tomorrow. The crescent and the arrow pointing to a star. Saving Dad.

  But I might get to speak to him today, I remembered with a jolt. Mr Edwards had semi-promised, hadn’t he? But what would I say? What could I say, when anyone might be listening in?

  What time was it? I fumbled to check on my watch, then groaned. Nearly half ten! How could I have slept in and wasted precious time like that?

  I fumbled with my mobile. I was supposed to phone Sasha and Josh as soon as I woke up, just let the phone ring three times so they’d know to come round so we could carry on trying to work out the clue – definitely no texts and definitely no talking. I did the ringing, then groaned again. Half a whole morning of working out the moon and star drawing was gone for good.