‘Evil plan?’ Tim said.
Coral beckoned them to the end of the veranda where they wouldn’t be overheard. ‘I thought about what you said about Smudge, and it all makes sense. The Sentinels have got Cakeface in town keeping an eye on what happens there, but they’d really want someone out here too. After all, this is where the microwave is — the thing they used to lure you here in the first place — and Albert said he’s sure the second host isn’t one of the adults.’
‘Still, we cannot prove,’ Alkemy said.
‘Ah, but we can. That’s where my evil plan comes in.’ She crossed her arms and looked at them smugly.
‘So what is it?’ Tim said. ‘Or are you just going to stand there looking pleased with yourself?’
‘What do all Sentinel hosts have to do regularly?’ They looked at her blankly. ‘Recharge, right? Cakeface has a pink office she spends half her days in. If Smudge is a Sentinel, she must have something similar.’
‘But what? And where does she get?’ Ludokrus said. ‘Albert say he does not find.’
‘Albert was looking for something human-sized. Cats are much smaller. They can go anywhere.’
‘But how does she make? Cats do not build or paint. Also, big farm. If we are looking for a small place, this could be anywhere.’
‘That’s why I locked her up. I want Smudge to lead us to it. She hasn’t had a zap for ages. She was in the lounge all afternoon, and now she’s locked in my bedroom. I’m guessing it’ll be the first thing she does when I let her out. Like a reflex. Automatic. Something she can’t help herself doing. And the Sentinels can’t tell her not to, not without sending out a transmission — which we’d pick up on the receiver.’
Ludokrus still looked sceptical, but Tim gave his sister a high-five and Coral took charge of the operation. ‘Norman, over there behind the milking shed. Alkemy, up the drive. Tim, round the back. Ludokrus, you go over by the chicken coop. I’ll give you all a minute to get in position then go in and let her out. I’ll cover the house in case she stays inside. Keep your eyes peeled!’
‘Yes sir, ma’am,’ Norman gave her a mock salute and they fanned out to their hiding places.
Coral heard faint scratching sounds as she headed down the hallway and a pink nose appeared in the gap the moment she opened her bedroom door. Smudge sniffed and pawed at the gap. Coral opened it wider and the cat shot out.
‘Game on!’ she said, following Smudge as she headed down the hall and out through the kitchen, straight past her food and water dishes.
‘Oh yeah!’
Coral jogged behind her, keeping close, but not too close, as Smudge trotted across the veranda and disappeared around the side of the house. She directed Alkemy and Norman to close-in with waves of her hands, before racing after her.
‘In the garden. Over there.’ Tim said, coming out of his hiding place by the vegetable patch. ‘Under those ferns.’
‘Does not come out my side,’ Alkemy said, joining them from the opposite direction.
Ludokrus and Norman arrived, and they all kept a careful watch, but the cat didn’t re-emerge.
The garden at the back of the house was a wild patch bordered by paving slabs. The outer edge was flowers and low shrubs, with larger plants closer in. They’d been trimmed back where they threatened to block windows, but mostly they’d been left to themselves, meaning the vegetation was dense and tangled.
‘Spread out, space yourselves equally and move in towards the house,’ Coral said.
‘Probably she is just going to the toilet,’ Ludokrus said.
‘Well be careful where you tread.’
Norman sniggered.
‘This is serious!’
They moved slowly, one step at a time, a broad semicircle that narrowed steadily, closing in a huddle near the house.
‘Nothing.’
‘I see no sign.’
‘Does not pass me.’
‘But that’s impossible. She can’t have disappeared. Are you sure she came in here?’ Coral said to Tim.
‘Positive. Right over there. She dived straight in.’
‘And no one saw her come out again?’
They shook their heads.
‘That’s just not—’
‘Hold on. Look at this.’
Norman squatted against the house, pointing to the low concrete wall that made up the edge of the foundations. The house was timber, set on concrete piles, and the wall formed their outer boundary. It was half a metre high with rectangular air vents spaced along it at regular intervals.
‘Look at what?’ Coral said.
He pulled back a wiry shrub and revealed a broken air vent behind it.
The opening was a perfect cat-sized hole, but there was no way they could get through it. Coral sent Tim to fetch a torch, but all that revealed was a patch of dry dusty ground and the undersides of floorboards.
‘Over here,’ Norman called.
He beckoned them further up the garden to where a human-sized entry hatch was set in the wall below Tim’s bedroom window. It was like a miniature gate, closed with a rusty bolt and hasp. He knelt, wiggled the bolt and drew it back. The hinges creaked as he opened it and cobwebs tore away from the sides.
They huddled round the opening, peering into the void. Grilled air vents, most shaded by shrubs, let in a little light, but it didn’t penetrate far. All the torch revealed was concrete foundation blocks in neatly spaced parallel lines supporting a crisscross of floor joists.
‘What is this place for?’ Alkemy asked.
‘Access to the plumbing and wiring that runs under the house,’ Norman said, ‘in case you ever need to get to it. Also, ventilation for the floorboards and foundations. Damp timber rots.’
Most of the space was open and empty. Nothing grew in the dark. There were some lengths of timber and old pipe near the entrance, and in the distance they could see the dark square shape of the base of the lounge fireplace. Closer in, away to one side, was another dark shape.
‘What’s that?’ Coral aimed the torch, but the beam wasn’t quite powerful enough. ‘That’s where the laundry is, isn’t it? There shouldn’t be anything under there.’
There was a length of timber on the ground in front of it. ‘Looks like it’s been pushed there,’ Tim said.
Coral thrust her torch at Norman. ‘Here. Go fetch.’
‘What? Why me?’
‘Because you’re the littlest. There’s not much space under there.’
‘It’s all yucky and cobwebby.’
‘You’ve got a change of clothes, haven’t you?’
‘What about the cat? She must be round here somewhere. She’ll probably claw my eyes out.’
‘If she does, you’ll be a hero.’
‘How d’you figure that?’
‘Because to make her attack you, the Sentinels will have to send her a signal. And if they do that, they’ll light up every scanner block in the district.’
Norman hesitated. He couldn’t fault her logic.
‘But if you’re too scared ...’ Coral reached for the torch. Norman snatched it back and scrambled inside. Coral grinned at the others.
He kept low, crawling on his knees and elbows to avoid banging his head on the joists. The others crowded round to watch his progress.
It was awkward in the confined space, but the earth was dry and his eyes quickly grew accustomed to the half-light.
‘It’s a cardboard box,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘On its side, facing away with the top flaps open.’
‘Bring it here,’ Coral said. ‘Let’s see what’s inside.’
He dodged a length of sagging wiring and approached the box from behind, intending to hook it towards himself with his free hand. But it was heavier than he expected.
‘There seems to be ... something ... in it ...’
‘Possibly the—’ Coral began as Smudge let out a yowl and bounded away into the darkness, heading for the broken vent.
‘I guess we know where she spent last night now,’ Coral said.
‘That’s better.’ Norman caught the carton by its bottom edge and dragged it towards him.
By the time he got it back to the entrance, he was filthy and covered in cobwebs. He crawled out first, groaning and stretching, his hair matted with a mass of silver strands. Coral nudged him aside and reached for the box.
It was made of heavy brown cardboard and had black lettering on the side. She tilted her head and read aloud: ‘Fieldstar Microwave Oven.’
‘Is that the box the microwave came in?’
‘I reckon.’ Coral stood it upright and opened the flaps. ‘And look at this.’
There was an old woollen blanket in the bottom, matted with cat fur. The whole of the interior — walls, bottom, even the insides of the flaps — had been painted pink. The same sickly shade as Cakeface’s office.
‘Oh, man!’ Tim muttered.
‘This is it all right.’ She turned to Ludokrus. ‘What do you say to that?’
‘Something is written.’ He pointed to one of the flaps. ‘Looks like an address.’
Coral turned the box over and they read the faint script on the yellowing label:
Mrs M. Millais
10 Fernhill Road
Rata
‘That’s all we need,’ she said, turning to Norman, who was still plucking cobwebs from his hair. ‘You can put it back now. Exactly where you found it, mind.’
‘What?’
‘Get a move on. We haven’t got all day.’