Chapter Seven

The next morning, Mego was slow to dress as a new pain flared up, causing her to wait until the agony subsided.

Every stiff joint made her feel like a heavy puppet with taste buds replaced by burnt matchsticks crushed into the carpet of a cheap Motel.

Around 11.20 AM, she waved off Shin, as he took a taxi back to the Tuxedo man's address; that nethermost part of town, wreathed in a miasma of dread.

Almost half an hour passed with no sign of the car; the still breeze smelled like a classroom: all dead air and waiting.

To cheer things up, Ami decided it would be a good time to tell Mego that her conception took place in that very same Liftback, with the help of back-to-back Iron Maiden songs.

Mego turned to her mother, mortified.

"Why?" She said. "Why would you bring that up?"

"I was trying to make it less awkward for you kids."

"So you chose that of all things?"

"If it helps, that was your father's choice of music. I wanted R.E.M."

"No, it doesn't help."

The conversation was interrupted by the blast of a 'La Cucaracha' horn.

Ami grimaced. "Crap, I forgot about that."

The pair of them greeted Shin in the driveway, as he peeled out of the car with a look of mild discomfort.

“If anyone tells you old cars are better, they are liars.” He said, rubbing his arms.

"How are you liking the retro feel?" Ami asked.

"I'm suddenly grateful for power steering."

"Amen to that."

Mego took a toolbox and made her way over to the car.

Freeing a key from a fifty-year-old lock was going to be a challenge, even with the help of online videos.

Ten minutes passed in slow motion, then twenty, until frustration bit, and she left the car, shaking her hands.

“I need space, I need space.” She said. “I’m all cramped up.”

“Be patient,” Ami said. “This is good practice in case you get kidnapped.”

“What every daughter likes to hear from their Mother.”

“You’ll thank me when the cuffs come on.”

“What if they use cable ties?”

Ami paused but had no answer.

“You know what? I’m just going to make a cup o’ tea.”

“Great answer, thanks!” Mego said, marching back to the car. More minutes passed, and still no luck. "Come hold this, " she told Shin, handing over a penlight and moving the tablet. After a few more tweaks, Mego managed to loosen the broken key. "And done!"

"Colour me impressed, Ms Green," Shin said.

"Colour me flattered, Mr Pie."

"I will colour you both in dogshit if you don't knock off the boner talk," Ami said, armed with a cup of tea. "Oh, nice job."

Mego pulled out a car manual, a breakdown membership card and an old copy of an eighties novel about glamour and Hollywood excess.

Shin flicked through the pages. “The rain-coloured rain, rained on the rainy street…it was raining. Genius writing. Nobel laureate.”

“Thirty million in sales,” Ami said.

“Were there thirty million head injuries?”

Mego wiped her hand after finding a harmonica.

“Eww. Nice." She said, echoing Ami's grimace.

"He thought he could make a living from that," Ami said.

The second lucky dip brought a pair of old shades and a strip of photos from a booth. Pickford Green had been a tall, muscular man with dirty blond hair.

"He's rocking that Trustafarian look." Mego said.

Ami sighed. "Nothing says nineties like frost-tips."

"A photo-booth picture," Shin said. "A bit of cliché, isn't it?"

"Hey, be nice. I can assure you, every couple has done it."

Mego and Shin looked at each other.

"I still have ours."

Mego’s face tingled. "Yeah, that was a fun day."

After rummaging around a bit more, she found a secret pocket within the top lining. She brought out a small green notebook bound in an elastic band. The majority of the writing was chicken scratch, with equations and sketches of buildings randomly placed.

"What does this mean?" She asked.

"I don't know," Ami said, with a cursory look. "He called it some kind of 'Formula for human greatness'. It became an obsession.”

"Speaking of obsession," Mego said. "What the ever-living fudge is this all about?"

Mego showed them a chronological list of vehicles from film and television that went for at least five pages.

Ami looked on in bewilderment. “What in God's name? He's even included the model and year!"

"What the hell is Hardcastle and McCormick?" Shin said.

"It merits an entry because of their vehicle, apparently."

“This is lunacy," Ami said. "It's almost like he is trying to pad out a word count. Who was he trying to impress?"

“Himself...but at sixteen?” Shin said, with a shrug.

Confused, Ami headed toward the front door. "I've got laundry; you kids have fun down memory lane."

"It's not our memory!"

"Still counts."

"Hey, can I keep this?" Mego asked.

"It's your car, Bab. Go nuts."

Ami disappeared into the bowels of the house, while Mego got to grips with whatever her Father's ramblings amounted to. All that she knew about Pickford Green was that he made a living from landscape gardening with a company called ‘Clipped, Raked, Untangled’

“Go nuts.” She said. "Poor choice of words.”

"He could have just been passionate, y'know, like football fans."

"Football fans don't keep a nutter's diary."

"Nor do they plaster their bedroom with the drawing of the same tree."

"Hey..." Mego said, but had nothing else. "Shut up, alright?"

"I still think you're overreacting."

"Overreacting?" Mego said, holding up the book. "These aren't even words; they aren't even close to words. I mean, would you like to know the kinds of helicopters featured in the eighties?"

"Like a pub quiz?"

"It also says: Talk to Carl Cosa. Who is Carl Cosa?"

"I guess we'll never know," Shin said.

"According to this, a Greenhouse can be used to conceal a secret base."

"That could work if the Greenhouse were a TARDIS."

"Was that a pop culture reference?" Mego said, with a sly smile. Shin rolled his eyes and handed over a pound coin. Looking closer at the sketch, she noticed a similarity. “Hold up.”

"What?"

"I know this place.”

***

Toward the back garden, the aptly named Greenhouse had fallen into disrepair over time and become something of an eyesore. Shattered panes of glass carpeted the concrete base in hard, jagged shapes.

The entire area had been fenced off, with warning signs all around. Mego cleared a path with a stiff brush, pushing the larger shards into the corners. The space revealed a loose drainage grate with something inside.

Under the grate was a burnished metal panel with a blank display. South of the display was a thick set of numerical keys and a large handle to the right; a shallow groove ran along the bottom length.

"Well, that is something else." She said.

Shin loomed over the panel.

"Looks nice, but now what? You don't have an access code."

Gripping the handle, Mego yelped in pain.

"What the hell?! Damn thing attacked me!"

Mego flapped out a handkerchief to stem the flow of crimson beads leaking from her fingers.

"Look!" Shin said, pointing to the groove lined with fresh blood.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Look at the machine!"

The blood disappeared into a tiny pinhole, causing the display to light up in bright green digital zeroes.

"No way! It must be DNA coded." Shin said. "Was there any warning in the book?"

"Do you think I'd be clutching my hand if there were?"

Mego gave him the notebook, and he flicked through the pages, checking for any numbers.

"It's all gibberish." Shin said, "Obviously, he is not going to have the entrance code to a secret base written next to whatever Starsky drove."

“Ford Grand Torino," Ami said, appearing from behind. "Don't ask me how I know. I'm just awesome." She peered down at the access panel. "Huh. Your dad was protective of his man-cave."

"You knew all this time?" Mego said.

"Of course," Ami said. "As Shin says, it was coded to your father's DNA alone."

"You could have at least bought a new Greenhouse."

"Why bother? I mean, no one is going to poke around broken glass."

"Me included."

"You and your brother.”

Mego rose to her feet.

"Ehh, probably for the best. No one wants to find a dungeon full of dead hookers."

"Hey, have some respect," Ami said. "Besides, that would never have happened."

"You know for sure?"

"Let's just say...I know."

An awkward pause fell between them.

“Wow, Mum," Mego said flatly. "We have to talk about boundaries in an agreed-upon conversation."

Ami laughed. "I definitely picked up the wrong baby."

"Don't say that! You'll freak me out."

Shin dusted his hands. “Yeah, well. We can’t stand here all day.”

“Obviously,” Ami said. “It’s up to you kids. Open or not, make a decision.”

Mego looked at the screen, then back at Shin, who shrugged again.

“Well, it’s going to bug me if I don’t.” She said. “So yeah, I want to see what it does.”

Ami crouched down and tapped in 0-1-1-2-3-5-8.

A dark square lit up green, indicating access approved.

“Have at it.” She said.

Mego gripped the handle.

More blood spilt out in bright red threads as she yanked it to a horizontal position.

"Can I be the first to say, this is the stupidest kind of security system?"

"Trust me, you're not the first," Ami said, handing her a tea towel.

The panel slid away, the sound of clanking gears filling the air. Underneath, a gap opened up to a T-shaped lever nestled inside a cylindrical hole.

Mego eyed it warily. "If this thing cuts me, I'm setting fire to the garden."

"Fine by me," Ami said. "I told him swipe cards were better."

Lifting the cylinder as far as it would go, Mego turned the lever vertical before plunging it back into the hole.

"How did you know how to do that?" Shin asked.

"I saw it in a movie."

The sound of stone dragging came from a nearby shed. She stood stock still, frozen with anticipation.

"Why did that sound like a tomb opening up?" Shin said.

"You're really killing the mood here." Mego said.

Crowding into the shed, they could see that the floor had opened up to reveal a spiral staircase, descending into pitch blackness.

"Okaaay,” Shin said. “Who wants to be the first to go down spooky stairs into an abyss?"

Ami sighed. "Come along, if it pleases you."