Chapter 1

Bun threw the notepad across the table.  “There’s nothing here,” he said in disgust. “We’ve turned the room upside down and there’s not a single clue. If my parents are alive, there’s nothing here to help us find them.”

“Maybe we’re looking in the wrong places,” said Katie, “or we’re approaching this from the wrong angle.”

“Well if there’s another place or another angle, I’d like to know what they are.  I think we’ve tried everything.”

“Let’s go over it one more time, okay?”

Bun shrugged.  “Okay.”  He picked up his notepad and turned to where he had been writing down everything important that had happened during the last few months.

The Niello Necklace was the first entry.  “The Niello gave us the clue to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York,” Bun said. “Then we found out my parents’ names and that led us here to California where we found Nan and Pop.”  He stopped for a moment until his voice steadied.  Even though he and Katie had been living with his grandparents for the past six weeks, he still felt emotional when he thought of being with them. It was a miracle he had found them.

Two months ago he didn’t think he had any family at all except Mr and Mrs Hare and their dreadful sons, Wayne and Kevin.  Now he knew he wasn’t related to any of the Hares, even though he had spent most of his fourteen years living with them.  His real name was not Bun Hare.  He was actually William Thomas Buntain II.   

The discovery of his real name had sent him and Katie on a search across America to try to find his family. He had found his grandparents but, on the worst day of his life, he had made the terrible discovery that his real parents had died in an explosion in New York.

“Then the necklace gave us another clue,” Katie said, “because it opened the door to the tunnel and led us to this secret room.”  She looked around the small room they were in. It was at the end of a tunnel that started in the library of Bun’s grandparents’ home. They had discovered how to access the tunnel from numbers printed on the back of the necklace.

Bun followed her gaze. Three walls of the room they were in were covered in maps of almost every country in the world. The fourth wall contained hundreds of photos of him as a baby. In one corner was the safe in which he and Katie had found the second Niello.

“And it was the second necklace that made me realise my parents might not have died after all.”

“Yeah,” Katie said. “The second Niello. The necklaces seem to be the centre of everything.”

Bun glanced at the small golden heart that he always carried with him. It was the first Niello Necklace. The one he had found in Australia after Mrs Hare’s death. The second Niello, the one they had found in the safe, was much larger and covered in diamonds, but it was the first necklace that was most precious to Bun. He was sure it was this necklace his real mother had left for him to find.

“What’s the next thing you wrote down?” Katie asked.

Bun scratched his head.  “There’s not much really. Look.”

Katie took the list.  It contained only two words:

1.Maps

2.Photographs

“Do you still think the numbers in the combination are important?” she said.

“I don’t know.  I just don’t think my parents would have chosen random numbers. It’s much easier to remember things if there is a pattern.”

“Except you might have inherited your photographic memory from one of them. Then it wouldn’t matter if there was a pattern or not.”

“True, but people do tend to think in patterns whether they mean to or not. Like when you choose passwords or pin numbers. You think of birth dates or special anniversaries. I think this number - ”

The loud ringing of his mobile interrupted him. The phone was a present from his grandparents, who said they wanted to be able to contact him wherever he went.  For the time being he was content to take the phone everywhere with him; at least, until they stopped worrying as soon as he was out of their sight.  He yanked the phone from his pocket.  Nan’s face appeared.  He smiled.

“Hi, Nan.”

“Hello, dear.  Sorry to interrupt you. Silas has just arrived.  He wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Nan. We’ll be right out.” He looked at Katie.  “You heard?”

Katie nodded. “I wonder what he wants?”

“Maybe he’s got news about my parents.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, honey Bun.  He probably only wants to give us a progress report on the search for the Polenskis.”

“Probably.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe that they got away again. Let’s hope Silas has some good news.”

Bun turned off the lights. Pop’s personal assistant, Harry, had installed them a few weeks ago.  They sure were an improvement on the lanterns and candles they had used when they first discovered the room. He motioned Katie to go first and they quickly made their way along the tunnel.  When Katie opened the door Silas was standing beside the fireplace, talking to Bun’s grandfather, Thomas Buntain.

“Hi Silas,” she said. Silas grinned and held out his hand. “Katie, how are you, girl?”

Katie squeezed his hand and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“Great, Silas. Living with Pop is a blast,” she said.

Silas laughed. Mr Buntain beamed and patted Katie’s hand.

“And what about you, Bun?”

“I’m fine thank you, Silas, “Bun said politely.  “How are your ribs?”

“Much better. It takes more than a bullet and a few broken ribs to put me out of action.”

“I’m very pleased you are getting better.”  Bun knew that he sounded stiff, but he couldn’t help it.  He had been suspicious of Silas from the start.  Somehow he always seemed to be on the spot every time Bun was in trouble. Even though he now knew that Silas was a FBI agent, he couldn’t bring himself to trust the man completely.

Katie glanced at him and sighed. “Have you caught the Polenskis yet?”

“Not a sign of them.  They’re obviously lying low for a while.”

“Probably planning their next move,” Bun said bitterly. It still made him mad when he thought about the Polenskis getting away.

It was the Polenskis who had, supposedly, been responsible for his parents’ deaths when, to take revenge on Bun’s father for testifying against crime boss, Eric Polenski, they had set off a bomb in a New York art gallery.

The Polenskis had next come into Bun’s life when they had chased him across America. Bun had been almost killed, twice, and had been taken hostage by the Polenskis in order to use him to force his grandfather to stop opposing Eric’s probation. It was only his photographic memory that had allowed him to escape from the old mine tunnels where the Polenskis had held him prisoner. Then when he had finally reached his grandparents’ house, Paul and Bruno Polenski had been right behind him and had shot Silas. Somehow, even though there had been FBI agents all over the place, they had slipped through the net.  They should have been in prison by now, along with their gang.

He became aware that the room was silent and everyone was looking at him.

“Are you all right, dear?” his grandmother said.

“Sorry.  I was thinking about the Polenskis.  I wish I could work out how they got away – and what they’re going to do next.”

“Actually,” Silas said. “That’s what I’m here about.  We think we know what they will do next, and we think we’ve got proof that your parents are alive.”