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newspaper article, from The Times archive, dated from early September fifteen years ago, two weeks after I was born at the end of August.
    RAGE firebomb kills ten at genetic research clinic
    The bodies of ten scientists have been recovered from the wreckage of the Assisted Conception and Genetic Research Centre in central London, a police spokesman said yesterday.
    Extremist right-wing group, the Righteous Army against Genetic Engineering (RAGE), has claimed responsibility for the firebomb, which exploded on the premises at 8.32 a.m. yesterday.
    Richard Smith, an administrative officer at the Centre, heard the blast from nearby Elizabeth Price Maternity Hospital, where he was attending the birth of his daughter.
    ‘I rushed over to the window,’ said Smith. ‘From the hospital I could see smoke rising. I knew at once it was a firebomb.’
    ‘Hey, a firebomb, dude. That’s hardcore.’ Jake sat back in his chair. I could feel him staring at me. ‘How did your dad get out, then?’
    I shrugged, trying not to show how much finding out what had happened mattered to me. I scanned the rest of the article quickly, looking for my dad’s name.
    The ten victims of the firebomb include Elijah ‘the Gene Genie’ Lazio, the maverick geneticist and owner of the centre.
    According to Smith, Lazio had received a number of death threats from RAGE in recent months.
    ‘He thought they were empty threats,’ Smith said. ‘I was not directly involved in what he was working on. In fact, Lazio knew I was morally against his cloning programme. I gave notice I was leaving last month.’
    Argentinian-born Lazio, 44, gained his nickname, the Gene Genie, two years ago after he claimed to have successfully cloned Andy – a rhesus monkey and the world’s first cloned primate. However, Lazio has consistently failed to produce any evidence to substantiate his claims, and his results have never been published in a peer-reviewed journal or scrutinised by independent experts.
    At the very end of the article was information about RAGE and a list of the other victims of the fire. There . The list included my dad – J. Lawson. Except that it wasn’t true, of course. He had survived the firebomb. He was out there somewhere.
    I let out a long, slow breath.
    ‘Now what?’ Jake said.
    I glanced over at Roy. He was looking at me, tapping his watch and mouthing the words ‘two more minutes’.
    ‘I have to find this Richard Smith guy,’ I said. I wasn’t yet sure what I was going to say to him – how much of the truth I dared tell – but he knew my dad. That was what mattered. He’d known him fifteen years ago. Maybe he still did. Jesus. Maybe they were still in touch. My heart was hammering, just at the thought of it.
    ‘Whoa.’ Jake shook his head. ‘First off – what makes you think he’s going to tell you any more about your dad than your mum has? And second off – how are you going to track him down? Richard Smith’s not exactly an unusual name.’
    I thought for a minute. ‘Look.’ I pointed to the article. ‘This gives us the exact date when his daughter was born.’
    ‘So?’ Jake frowned.
    ‘So that means . . .’ I paused, working it out in my head. ‘That means she’d be fifteen, like us, but born in September, so probably only Year Ten. If we can find out where she goes to school, get hold of her . . .’ I sat up, excited. ‘Yes. In fact it’ll work better that way. I can talk to her, use her to help me get to—’
    ‘What are you talking about?’ Jake frowned. ‘How are you going to find out where she goes to school?’
    ‘Annual Schools’ Census.’ I said. ‘Max told me about it. Records schools have to submit to the government. Including the surname and date of birth of every pupil. If she’s still in the country Max’ll be able to find her.’
    ‘Cool.’ Jake’s eyes widened. ‘Wait. Are you saying that you think Max could actually hack into school records?’
    ‘No.’ I grinned. ‘I’m saying