The History Mystery (10 page)

‘That's right!' said Sonia. ‘You have been saying that all along, Matt, and you are right. But now we know what he wants.'

Everyone turned to listen to Sonia. She was saying what they had all known all along, in a way, but hadn't quite put into words.

‘What he's been begging us to do all the time is not to stop reading.'

That was true, but it seemed such a weird request.

‘But
why
?'

Faye's question was left unanswered, because just at that moment, Sonia's mother came to offer them some lunch.

‘I didn't know you were all coming – Sonia never said. But I have got together a nice lunch of black beans and rice, and manioc flour with eggs. A delicious
feijoada
for everybody. And some salad.'

Apart from Faye, who was always keen to eat healthily, nobody was too interested in the salad part. But they were very hungry. So the discussion was immediately interrupted and they all went to lunch.

It wasn't until they were eating ice cream for dessert that Sonia remembered to ask Pedro. ‘Didn't you say you had something new to tell us? Something about Robbie? What is it?'

Pedro swallowed his last spoonful, took a sip of water and then told them about the conversation he had had with Robbie on the bus. He even sang the bits he could recall from the mysterious rap song Robbie had received from some anonymous contestant.

‘So you think the Brainy Hacker is playing the part of a rapper now?' asked Sonia sceptically.

‘I think it has to be him again,' said Matt. ‘There's something familiar about this – it's the same method of communication, the way all those other messages popped up unexpectedly on computers.'

‘Or on a mobile phone,' added Faye.

‘Yes, but that's much the same thing. A mobile and a computer both use chips. They are both communications devices, and they are both capable of being intercepted in this way.'

‘Yeah,' said Sonia. ‘I suppose.'

‘I think this has to be our man again,' said Matt. ‘We shouldn't ignore any leads at this point. Pedro's right. This is really urgent.'

Sonia was starting to feel drowsy after the good lunch they'd just had. ‘Urgent?' she asked lazily. ‘Why?'

‘Because today is Saturday!' said Pedro and Matt in unison.

The girls burst out laughing, remembering a poem they had all learnt at school, where ‘Because today is Saturday' was the refrain.

Pedro explained what he meant. ‘I'm not sure if you are all fans of Robbie's Saturday radio show? It's really good, actually, and a lot of people listen to it. Anyway, he spends all Saturday afternoon at the radio station, doing the show live. I told him I'd meet him there after the programme to talk some more about this thing that's happened. But now it occurs to me, what if our hacker friend tries to make contact again? And what if it happens today? If it does, I want to be there. Remember how Colin said we should try to respond to any of these messages if we get a chance?'

‘So now you can see what he means by saying it's urgent,' Matt said.

‘It's dead urgent,' said Pedro. ‘In fact, I think I'd better not wait till the end of the programme. I'm
heading over there now, before it starts, to make sure I'm there if anything happens.'

‘Great idea!' said Matt. ‘We'll all go!'

A few minutes later, all four of them were on a bus on the way to the radio station. They arrived just a little after the programme had started.

As they went past reception, they could hear Robbie's voice coming through the speakers. He had just finished presenting the first item, an interview with a community leader about a group of sewing-machine operators who had formed a cooperative to participate in a fashion event. After a short jingle, Robbie announced, ‘Now, don't change the station, it's time for a dedication!'

That was how he always announced the part of the programme in which people phoned in to dedicate a song to someone. After the introductory sentence, Robbie played the little jingle again and then said, loud and clear: ‘And now, Gregorio Alvarenga dedicates this song to Pedro, Sonia, Faye, Matthew and William.'

The four friends exchanged surprised glances. ‘That's us!'

It was startling to hear their names being announced in Robbie's voice – Robert Freitas, the famous broadcaster – and to hear that someone was dedicating a song to them on the radio, just at the very moment they were all – except for Will –
walking into the building. As the first chords of the song started playing, it dawned on them that not only was this a coincidence, it was also a mystery.

‘Who?'

‘I don't know!'

‘Do you know anyone named Gregorio Alvarenga?'

‘Not me!'

They were still heading for the studio. Pedro knew his way around the radio station, and the staff knew him too. He and Matt had often been there to meet Robbie, so nobody bothered them. As they walked, this was the song that was playing: ‘I was born about ten thousand years ago …'

‘Oh, no!' cried Matt, the first to realise what was going on. ‘It's our hacker. The guy is sending us a musical message! He's finally decided to tell us who he is.'

‘Gregorio Alvarenga? Gregorio Alvarenga?' repeated Pedro. ‘Where does that name come from? Reminds me of something. A poet, maybe?'

‘But this is a real song, it exists,' said Sonia. ‘I've heard it. My dad has that album.'

As they arrived at the studio door, they all stopped. A red light was turned on over the door.

‘We can't go in,' said Matt. ‘The light's on. He's on air. We'll have to wait outside.'

That was disappointing. They were going to have to hang around, either in the corridor or in a little
room next door, where there were a few chairs. They could sit and listen to the rest of the programme while they waited to talk to Robbie. But Pedro didn't want to sit around waiting.

‘No,' he said firmly. ‘I'm going in.'

‘What about the red light?' said Matt. ‘You can't go in. You'll be in the way.'

‘He's on air, but he's not talking right now. It's just music. I've seen a technician going in and out more than once. I won't disturb anyone. Robbie is in the isolation booth. I'm going in. If anyone else wants to come, do it now.'

Faye hardly had time to wonder what an isolation booth could mean. She pictured something like a solitary confinement cell in a jail. It didn't seem very likely that Robbie would be stuck in one of those. Pedro put his finger to his lips for silence, and already he was opening the heavy door. Sonia stuck close to him and slipped in with him. Matt was following the other two, and Faye, who didn't want to be left alone outside, grabbed Matt's hand.

This almost ruined everything. Matt got such a shock at the touch of her hand that he stood paralysed for a second, unable to move forward. Through the half-open door, Faye could see Pedro and Sonia already inside, and beside them was a console covered in buttons and switches. The console was being operated by a technician, who was facing
a glass wall that separated him from a cubicle. That must be what they called the isolation booth, Faye figured, because on the other side of the glass wall Robbie was sitting at a desk, wearing headphones. In front of him was a microphone and a lot of scattered sheets of paper.

The technician turned to them and immediately started telling them off.

‘Hey! You can't come in here! Close that door!'

From the other side of his glass wall, Robbie had seen them and waved hello. Then he closed his fist and gave a thumbs-up, indicating to the technician that it was alright, they could stay. The guy went on grumbling, complaining, making hand signals and pointing at the door.

All this time, Matt didn't budge. He just stood there, holding Faye's hand and feeling his heart going
thump-thump-thump
, beating louder than the sound of the programme that was on air. Surely the whole neighbourhood could hear it, banging away at who-knew-what decibel level.

Faye put her mouth close to his ear and whispered, ‘Go on! Get inside!'

Matt stumbled in, feeling dizzy, not letting go of her hand. If it were up to him, he would keep hold of this little hand for ever. Faye, using her left hand to push back the heavy door they had entered, seemed
to have forgotten that the fingers of her right hand were still wrapped around his.

Meanwhile the technician was giving a list of instructions.

‘OK, watch it now. Keep quiet. He's going on air.'

He pressed a little button and talked into a microphone so Robbie could hear him inside his booth.

‘Ten seconds.'

Robbie cleared his throat, while the technician turned a huge button on the console and slowly turned down the volume of the music, bringing the song to an end.

Then Robbie announced, ‘Gregorio Alvarenga has just dedicated “I Was Born About Ten Thousand Years Ago” to his friends. And here he is, to talk to us briefly …

‘He's
here
?'

Sonia was alarmed. She expected the guy would just walk right into the studio, in the flesh. She wasn't used to listening to Robbie's show and didn't know he often chatted on the phone with a person who was dedicating a song.

‘Good afternoon, Gregorio. How are you?'

The answer was in a metallic voice, coming from one of the big speakers.

‘Never been better, Robert.'

It was in sharp contrast to Robbie's voice, which
was full, warm and articulate, like a professional broadcaster.

‘Very good, Gregorio. And where are you from? Where do you live?'

‘Oh, one day here, one day there …' answered the voice. ‘I am of no fixed abode.'

While the friends listened to this in surprise, Pedro picked up a pen from the table and started writing something on a sheet of paper in big bold letters, easy to read from the other side of the glass.

The conversation continued: ‘Yet another listener with housing problems, my friends … And what do you do for a living?'

‘I've been doing a bit of everything throughout these lives …' was the answer.

These lives?
Sonia and Faye exchanged glances. Pedro had just finished writing and raised the sheet of paper to show Robbie. Matt was still hypnotised by Faye's hand in his own, as if he were frozen. Or as if they were not even there.

From the other side of the glass, the broadcaster Robert Freitas read Pedro's message: ‘ASK IF THAT'S REALLY HIS NAME.'

Robbie was well used to improvising. Now he said, ‘We have here with us our listener of the day, Gregorio … I'm sorry, Gregorio. Could you please repeat your name for us?'

‘Gregorio … de … Gonzaga,' said the voice, hesitant.

‘Gonzaga? Or was it Alvarenga?' Robbie suggested, checking one of the sheets of paper in front of him. This time the answer came without any hesitation:

‘Gonzaga or Alvarenga. It's all the same. Like Gregorio, it doesn't matter. They are all poets. And brave. Masters of the written word.'

Pedro scribbled furiously on another sheet of paper, while Robbie continued the interview.

‘Well, well, the names of many famous Brazilian poets rolled into one! So, your parents were very fond of poetry and your name is Gregorio de Gonzaga Alvarenga, a tribute to many poets?'

Now he could see the other sheet of paper that Pedro was holding up: ‘SAY THAT WE'RE HERE.'

Meanwhile, the metallic voice was replying, ‘The name does not matter. A name … What's in a name? I could be named after a whole team, because I am many.'

On the other side of the glass wall, the technician laughed out loud and commented, ‘This guy's completely insane! Must be calling from a mental institution! I'd like to see how Robert gets out of this one …'

But Robbie seemed pretty comfortable. He continued to chat with the person with the metallic voice.

‘My dear Gregorio Alvarenga, I think I have a surprise for you. Your friends to whom you have
just dedicated that song, at least some of them, are here with us in the studio. I would love to say that our producers did a whole lot of teamwork to locate them, but I'd rather tell the truth. It's just an amazing coincidence, because they are my friends too and have just dropped by to see me.'

‘I know …' answered Gregorio – or whoever was the owner of that voice, with his whole array of names.

What did he know? That they were there? Or that they were friends with the broadcaster? But Robbie didn't even seem to hear those two short words, because he went on talking. ‘If you like, you can say a few words. To all of our listeners, of course. But especially to them, since they're almost all here.'

‘Almost all? Why? Who is missing? Is Faye there?'

As Robbie was explaining that the only one missing was William, something surprising happened. When he heard Faye's name pronounced by that metallic voice, Matt suddenly snapped out of the paralysed state he had been in. He let go of Faye's hand, stepped up to the console and pressed a little button – the one that had been used a moment ago to activate the microphone in the outer room and allow communication with the booth, when the producer had told Robbie he would be on air in ten seconds.

Everyone heard Matt's voice sounding over the conversation, transmitted live to the whole
community of listeners. ‘What's the deal, man?' he said to this Gregorio person. ‘Why are you so interested? And what do you want with Faye?'

‘Calm down, my boy, I just asked because I've spoken to her before,' answered Gregorio God-knows-what, in his metallic, computer-distorted voice.

‘Well, now you can talk to all of us,' replied Matt, with his finger still on the button.

From the other side of the glass, Robert Freitas tried to take control of the situation. In the outer room, the technician took Matt's hand off the control, while Robbie addressed the listeners.