The Lornea Island Detective Club Page 9

  "She's a new boat Billy. She's safe. And... efficient. You get a place on Ocean Harvest, it's a safe income."

  Suddenly Tucker joins in the conversation. So far he hasn't spoken a word, just stood there, drinking his beer.

  "We'll be alright Billy," his voice sounds weird. Creepy. "We'll get to know each other." He grins at me, and I notice his incisors are really long. Yellow, but brown at the gums where he doesn't clean them properly. He takes a swig of his beer. I can feel tears forming behind my eyes, and I don't want Tucker to see them. I really don't want that. I turn back to Dad.

  "I'm gonna go to my room. I've got homework."

  Dad strokes his chin again a couple of times, then he just nods.

  "OK."

  I wasn’t expecting that. I thought he’d stop me, but now he isn’t I don't have a choice. I pick up my bag and go to the stairs. As I climb up I'm still hoping Dad's going to call me back. But he doesn't. So in the end I go into my room and I have to deal with Steven hopping all over me and pecking at my face. And then I haven't even taken his fish from downstairs, and I can't really go and get it right now.

  So I wait. I'm still pretty sure Dad will come and see me before he leaves. So I listen out for the squeak of the floorboards in the stairs, the sound that tells me Dad's coming up. And I decide that when he does, I'm just going to tell him. I'm going to tell him about how Tucker isn't really called Tucker at all, and how he lied to me about not having a cell phone, when he does have one really. And when I think about that, I remember how I stuck that hair across my door, and how it wasn't there when I came back, which proves that he's been searching in my room.

  And I know that when I tell Dad all this, he'll realize he can't leave me alone with Tucker. He'll sort it out. He'll work out who he really is, and he'll make sure he's not in our house anymore. I know he's been trying to get a place on a boat for a long time. I know he needs the money. But he'll realize he can't do it this way.

  But instead of the squeak of the stairs, I hear another noise – the bang of the front door. So I creep to my window, and I peek out of it, since it might just be Tucker outside, and I don't want him to see me.

  But it's not Tucker. It's Dad. He's throwing his kit bag into the back of the truck, and then climbing behind the wheel. And then Tucker gets in the other side, laughing as he does so. And then there's the noise of the engine firing up. I think I see Dad glancing up at my window as he begins turning around, but I pull back out of sight. And when I next look they're driving off down the lane.

  Eighteen

  It's the next morning now. I feel a little better about things. Well, as better as it's possible to feel, given the circumstances.

  I ended up staying up really late last night. Working. First of all I downloaded a new app to my computer. It's called VesselTrack, and you can use it to show where all the ships are in the world, in real time. So I've set it up to show me exactly where Dad is. At the moment this is where he is:

  lat: 42.25495 lon: -68.13995

  He's heading 077 degrees, and they're going at ten knots. That means they're about sixty miles away and still heading out. The weather isn't too rough though. The wind is force four and forecast to drop. That's hardly anything. It's worse than that here.

  So I decided the more urgent problem is me being left alone in the house with Tucker. Or whatever his real name is.

  I think about this first. I try to use logic to work it out, starting from what I definitely know. For example. I know that Dad thinks his name is Tucker. But I also know he has identification in his wallet where he's called Peter Smith. He can't be called both names, so one must be fake. You might think that the official identification - his driver’s license - is the most likely to be the real one, but you’re forgetting something. You see, Dad grew up with him, back in Crab Creek. So if Dad thinks he’s called Tucker that must be true. Which means Peter Smith must be either a new name, or an alias.

  I make a list of why people might use an alias. This is what I write:

  Because he’s a spy.

  Because he an undercover policeman.

  Because he’s in the witness protection scheme.

  Then I use google and find some more possibilities. I add the following:

  Because he’s an author and it’s a pen name.

  Because he’s a celebrity and wants to travel incognito.

  Because he’s a criminal and wants to hide his identity.

  Then I cross out the ideas that are impossible, or really unlikely. And the only one left is the last one. So Tucker is a criminal who wants to hide his identity.

  Next I have a really good look around my room, to see if anything was missing from when he broke in. I don’t think anything is. I do get the feeling that a few things were out of place – my desk drawers not quite closed as I'd left them, that sort of thing, but to be honest, it could have been Steven. But then, I have a good idea. I start to think about why Tucker might have tried to break into my room in the first place. The obvious answer is that he was looking for things to steal, because I already know he's a criminal. But since he's currently living in our lounge, it doesn't exactly make sense to steal things from my room, and just take them downstairs. So maybe he wasn't looking to steal something, but doing something else? But if that's the case, then what?

  And then I work it out. Do you remember how he asked me, the morning after he got here, if he could use my computer? And then he said he wanted it to access the internet, because he didn't have a phone? But then I discovered he was lying about not having a phone. He did have one, only he was hiding it. I didn't understand why anyone would do that at the time. But I think I do now. It's all to do with how cell phones work.

  I saw a documentary on it. And it’s quite technical but this is the basic point: Cell phones connect to base stations by sending radio waves back-and-forth. Whenever your cell phone is switched on, it's constantly sending out messages, called handshakes, to the nearest base station, kind of like it's saying 'Hi, I'm over here'. It does this so the telephone company knows where to send all the calls and actual messages you get. Otherwise they'd have to send every call and every message to every base station, just in case all their customers happened to be standing next to it. And that would be crazy, because all the base stations would fill up, and they'd probably explode. But what this means is, when you have your cell phone switched on, your telephone company knows where you are. And so do the police. The police have access to the same system, and they use it to track down where criminals are. They do it all the time. And the thing is, it's not even a big secret – the criminals know about too. Probably because they saw the same documentary that I did.

  The reason why this is important is this. When criminals are on the run from the police they have to leave their phones switched off. They can't even use the internet on them, because just having the phone on means it'll send a handshake message to the nearest base station, saying 'here I am!'

  That's why Tucker/Peter lied about not having a phone – because he couldn't switch it on to use it. It also explains why he wanted to get into my room. He must have needed to use the internet again. So he broke into my room to try to find my computer. Luckily I had it with me at the time.

  And then – because I find with me, good ideas often come in threes or fours – I have another good idea. I realize that, if Tucker doesn't want to turn his phone on because the police are using it to look for him, then there's a really easy way to get rid of him. All I need to do is find his phone and switch it on. It'll send a handshake to the nearest base station, and the police will see that and know exactly where he is. They'll come and arrest him. And because he won't even know about it, he won't be expecting them. And best of all, no one will ever know it was me.

  I can't do it right now though. There's two reasons for that. First of all I don't want to get Dad into trouble. I’m not sure if it’s illegal or not, but I don’t expect they’ll be very impressed he’s gone off for a week and left me with a
violent criminal. But there's another reason too – I don't know where Tucker's phone is. I haven't seen it since that time I searched his jeans. So I'll have to watch him carefully to see if I can get any clues where he might be hiding it.

  And then I get another idea. Even better than just turning Tucker's phone on.

  I wasn't sure at first if it would work, so I had to do some checking on the internet, and it was already nearly midnight by then. I know it was, because that's when I heard Dad's truck come back, and I looked out of the window to see Tucker getting out. He must have gone to a bar after dropping Dad off. I watched him with the light off, to see if he was drunk. But it was hard to tell.

  Then I went back to work. I found some software that had a trial period, so it wasn't going to cost me any money. Then I took everything that was really important off my computer, just in case. I have it all backed up anyway. Then I did some testing, and checked it all worked. And then, at about two in the morning, I finally went to bed.

  So when I go to school today I'm not taking my laptop. I'm going to 'accidentally' forget it. I'm going to leave it right here on the kitchen table, switched on, with the password disabled. Like I meant to put it in my bag, but forgot it at the last minute.

  But I'm not really forgetting it.

  It's a trap.

  Nineteen

  It's really hard to concentrate at school because of wondering whether Tucker/Peter has fallen for it or not. The first lesson seems to take forever, and then in morning break I have a little bit of bother with James Drolley and his little gang. But then Mr. Stewart comes along. He's one of the gym teachers, and they always act like they're perfect students around him because they love gym, so they leave me alone.

  At lunchtime I go and see if Amber is in the library. But she isn't there. I look out the window to see if her mom's car is in the parking lot, but that's not there either. Although that doesn't mean anything, because some days Amber isn't allowed to use it.

  And then we have history class all afternoon, and we finish up with a test. At least that's quite fun.

  Eventually the bell rings for the end of the day, and I get on the bus. And then just like normal I have to wait while everyone else gets dropped off, since my stop is the very last one on the route.

  But finally the bus gets to the Littlelea stop, and the doors wheeze open. I get off and hurry down the little lane to our house. But then, when I see Dad's truck, and see how Tucker's parked it differently to how Dad does, suddenly I start to feel less excited and more – well, nervous I suppose. After all, Dad's hundreds of miles out to sea and I'm alone with a dangerous, violent criminal. And the thing is, last night when I was setting up my trap, I assumed he was just a normal criminal. But what if that's wrong? What if he's actually a computer-expert criminal? You know, the type in those movies who can disable alarms and open safes electronically. He doesn't look like one, I know, but then maybe that’s a kind of disguise.

  And then I remember the photograph in his wallet – where it showed his real name was Peter Smith. He actually did look like a computer expert in that photo. If Tucker/Peter is a computer-expert criminal, then he's going to know I tried to trap him.

  I start to feel short of breath. What if he's in there now, knowing I know who he really is? Knowing I know the police are looking for him? I think of those muscles he has all over him. I'm getting quite strong, but I’m nowhere near as strong as that.

  But then I tell myself to be rational. He's not a computer expert, he can't be. People with muscles like that are never computer experts, even if they are in disguise. If Tucker/Peter is a criminal, and I remind myself that I don't know this for 100% yet, then he's the type who's good at fighting and violence. Or even the type who's not very good at anything much, given the police are looking for him.

  So, even though there's no way I can know for sure, I decide it's unlikely that Tucker will have realized the computer is a trap. So I take a deep breath, and I unlock the front door.

  Tucker is in the kitchen. I didn't expect that. He's standing next to the stove stirring something in a big saucepan. He turns around to look at me, his face impassive. I can't tell anything from it.

  My computer is still on the kitchen table, but it's not where I left it. It's been moved to the end. The space where it was has been laid for dinner.

  "Finally," Tucker says. "I was going to eat without you." He ladles up a spoonful of something red and lets it slop back down. If he's angry at me trying to trap him, he's hiding it well.

  "I hope you like spicy shit." He flashes a smile, but it's only a half smile, just a flash of those yellow incisors and he goes back to looking – I dunno, it's a funny look. I don't know what it means.

  I still haven't moved from the front door.

  "Come on Billy. Take a goddamn pew. I wanna eat."

  I don't move, except to look at my computer again. The lid is shut – I left it open, to look as inviting as possible, with the screen unlocked and the power plugged in, so that it would sit there, tempting him to use it.

  "Tell me something. You have a good day at school? You giving the teachers shit? Talk to me."

  I glance up at him, and notice how he was following my gaze. I'm not 100% sure, but I think he looks guilty for a moment.

  "Come on kid. Sit down."

  I don't have a choice, so I do what he says. Then I watch him as he goes to the refrigerator.

  "You wanna beer? I won't tell your old man."

  "I don't like beer."

  Tucker shrugs and takes one for himself. Then he kicks the refrigerator door shut, grabs two plates and serves up two enormous portions of rice and the stuff he was stirring. It turns out to be beans with tomatoes. He sets one down in front of me, and then sits down opposite me. I wonder if he's going to try and make small talk, but instead he just starts eating, shoveling the food in fast. I try a little bit of the sauce, and though it's really spicy, it is actually quite nice. So I start to eat properly. Though what I really want to do is get my computer upstairs and see if my trap's worked.

  "You hear anything from your old man?" Tucker asks after a few minutes. I look up and see he's finished already.

  "No."

  "You know whereabouts he is?"

  This question could be a kind of test. I left the VesselTrack app on my laptop. Is this his way of letting me know he's seen it?

  "No. Not really." I go back to my food. It's actually very nice. You wouldn't think someone like Tucker could cook so well.

  "He told me where he was going. It sounds a long way, but it ain't really. And the weather's good. Better out there than here." I don't answer him. But I glance up at his face, and he gives me another half smile. I look back down again.

  "You like sports?" He says suddenly.

  "Pardon?"

  "Sports. Football? Basketball? I dunno, badminton? You like it?"

  "Oh. No. Not much."

  Tucker chuckles.

  "You're not such big talker are you Billy?" Tucker says, and again I don't say anything.

  "Like your Dad I guess. He was always the strong silent type. Maybe that's what your mom saw in him. She came from a family of big talkers. Real flash bunch. You're lucky you take after him, you ask me."

  I move another forkful of the food up to my mouth, but this time I don't taste it. I've never met anyone, other than Dad, who actually knew my mom. In a way I'd like to find out more about her. But this is hardly the time to ask.

  Then there's a beep from my phone. It's the noise it makes when a message comes in. I slip it out and look at the screen, and straight away I see it's from Amber. Obviously I can't read it at the table with Tucker looking on.

  "This is important," I say to Tucker, making sure he can't see the screen. "I need to..."

  "Sure," he says. He inclines his head, like he's telling me it's OK to leave.

  "It's just something from..." I stop quickly, annoyed at myself. I don't need to tell Tucker who it is, but now I've started I have to finish the
sentence.

  "From school," I say. It sounds a bit lame.

  "No bother. You go. I'll clean up here." He leans back in his chair and beats his chest with his fists, like he's a gorilla or something. Quickly I take another couple of mouthfuls, and then put the fork down. I stuff my phone back into my pocket and pick up my computer. I'm about to head upstairs when I remember my manners.

  “Thanks," I say. "For the food."

  "Anytime kid. I told your old man I'd look after you didn't I?"

  As soon as I get into my room I open my laptop. It doesn't ask for a password, but I type one in anyway. It's a secret password. It stops the software I installed last night from working. Then I get to work, opening the programs and scanning down the results.

  Right away I can tell that I've got some results. My computer was used while I was at school. My trap worked.

  Twenty

  Things change pretty fast after that.

  I put two different types of software onto my laptop. The first was something called SpyCatch. What it does is secretly record everything that happens to your computer. Every time someone uses the keyboard, it turns on the webcam and starts recording. Only there's nothing to tell the person using it that the webcam is on. It does it secretly. It doesn't even turn on the little red light. If you're using the computer, you'd never know that you're being recorded the whole time.

  That's what I look at first. I open Spycatch, and it has a list of the videos it's made during the day, along with the time it made them. The first is at 08:47. I have to catch the school bus at 08:30. That means Tucker must have got up and used my laptop less than fifteen minutes after I went to school.

  I knew it.

  I click the file, and wait while the video player loads. Then there's a sudden image of Tucker, leaning in close to the computer. Actually seeing him there takes my breath away too. He really did steal my computer. And if I'm right about that, then maybe I'm right about everything else as well. I suddenly feel exposed, with him downstairs, and no lock on my bedroom door. So before I hit play I get up and drag my wooden chest in front of the door of my bedroom, just so there no chance that he can surprise me by walking into my room, and see what I'm doing. Then I plug in some headphones, so he can't hear me either, and I sit back down to watch.