The Broken Sun (10 page)

He was surrounded by a choking white haze. It was all around him. Up. Down. Pressing
against him from every direction, crushing him like a cold blanket. Now the roar
of the avalanche had passed and a terrible silence replaced it.

With an almighty effort, Jack pulled one arm towards his face and created an air
pocket. Dragging his other arm free, he burrowed out a space about a foot wide. He
had to get out of here, but he wasn't sure which way was up and which way was down.

He didn't want to start digging in the wrong direction because he might get himself
deeper into the snow. He was already freezing. And exhausted. He would be dead within
minutes. He had to tunnel towards the surface, but where was that?

He spat.

Much to his relief, the drool fell immediately across his chin.

Good old gravity
, he thought.
And good old Miss Bloxley.

Without her, and that blasted book she had lent him, he would have had no chance
at all. But he wasn't out of danger yet. He pulled his legs towards him, rolled about
and pushed down. Hard. He moved, not far, but far enough. He thrust downwards again.
And again.

The air around him was running out. He had to stay calm. Panicking would only use
up his precious oxygen, but his heart was racing like a roller-coaster
.
Jack took
three deep breaths and pushed downwards again. It was impossible to tell how much
snow was between him and the surface. It could be inches. Or feet.

His fingers and face were now completely numb. If he didn't find the surface soon—

His left elbow met air.

Yes!

He pulled himself up and his head emerged. He saw grey sky and mountains. He breathed
in. Air.
Glorious air!

‘Jack!' Scarlet's voice came from nowhere.

Then Mr Doyle was dragging at him. ‘Hold on, my boy,' he said. ‘We'll have you out
in a jiffy.'

Jack tried to mumble that he was fine, but he couldn't form words. His lips would
not work. They dragged him free and wrapped themselves around him to warm his body.
There were tears in Mr Doyle's eyes.

‘You're safe,' he said. ‘You're safe, you're safe…'

An hour later they were sitting around Professor Howard Morely's fireplace, drinking
tea. Returning to the house, they had found the professor bound and gagged in one
of his closets and immediately went to his aid.

‘I owe you my life,' he said. ‘I'm not sure how I will ever repay you.'

The professor was a small, round man, balding with a grey beard. He clenched his
cup of tea with fingers too pudgy to fit through the handle.

‘No repayment is necessary,' Mr Doyle said. ‘However, we would appreciate some information.'

‘It's the least I can do.'

‘We have been told that some people believe the Broken Sun is actually a map that
points to New Atlantis. Is there any truth in this?'

The professor clenched his jaw. ‘That was Clarke and Stein's belief. I didn't share
in their pursuit of the mythical city. My interest was in the craftsmanship of the
Broken Sun. Nothing like it has ever been found in the ancient world—and I doubt
ever will be again.'

‘But Clarke and Stein
were
trying to find New Atlantis?'

Professor Morely nodded.

‘May I ask, then,' Scarlet said, ‘why weren't the pieces of the Broken Sun kept together?'

‘It was simply a matter of finance,' the professor explained. ‘The expedition was
funded by a number of sources, including the British Museum. The contract
stated
that any findings would be shared between the participants.

‘James Clarke and Richard Stein have spent years chasing Atlantis. Some might even
call it an obsession. Ancient mysteries are like that sometimes. Intelligent people
are swayed from the world of academia and science, turning instead to treasure hunts
and riddles.'

Jack asked, ‘So what does the Broken Sun do?'

Morely shrugged. ‘I have no idea. It is a highly complex device. I assume the three
batons lock together to form a single shaft, but we could never get them to join.'
He took a sip of tea. ‘But that's hardly surprising given the number of combinations.'

‘What do you mean?'

Professor Morely smiled sadly. ‘Have you worked out how many possible sequences there
are?' he asked. ‘Two of the Broken Sun pieces have ten dials. The third has seven.
It would take a hundred years to try every single combination.'

Mr Doyle frowned. ‘So even if the pieces were brought back together…'

‘Knowing the correct sequence would take forever.' Morely paused. ‘Unless there is
a clue to be found in the ancient legends.'

‘Who would know such a thing?'

‘I do know of someone who is an expert in the field.'

‘Who is it?'

‘A woman. She is the daughter of famed Egyptian archaeologist, Nathanial Carfax.'

Mr Doyle started, almost dropping his tea. ‘Phoebe Carfax?'

‘You know her?'

‘From my youth,' Mr Doyle said, his face reddening. ‘I have not seen her for many
years.'

‘She resides on the Greek island of Kasos. It is to her that I sent my piece of the
Broken Sun.'

Scarlet, Jack and Mr Doyle stared at the professor.

‘I thought you knew,' Morely said, surprised. ‘After I received your warning message,
I sent the piece away. I thought it would be safer with Miss Carfax. I thought she
might have a better chance of cracking the puzzle.'

‘I hope you won't mind if we contact her.'

‘I believe you should.' Professor Morely gave him Phoebe Carfax's address. ‘She must
be warned her life may be in danger.'

Mr Doyle, Jack and Scarlet made their way back over the snow-covered hills to the
Lion's Mane
. Night was falling, so Mr Doyle decided to delay their departure until
the next morning. Jack prepared a meal in the galley while Scarlet set the table.
It was a simple dinner—rehydrated vegetables and dried chicken—but it tasted like
heaven after the day's exertions.

‘So Miss Carfax is an old friend,' Scarlet said innocently, slicing into a piece
of meat.

‘From your younger days,' Jack added.

Mr Doyle blushed. ‘You are both clearly acquiring keen powers of observation.' He
smiled. ‘We were… acquaintances. I met her at Oxford University.'

‘I thought women weren't allowed at universities?' Scarlet said.

‘They are not. She was not a student, but her father was in charge of the Ancient
History department. She learnt both from him and the university library. Even then
Phoebe's knowledge on the ancient world was unparalleled. By now she could very well
be one of the world's leading experts.'

They ate their meals and turned in for the night. The
Lion's Mane
had fold-out beds
in the living room and a curtain that gave each of them their own sleeping area.

The next few days passed slowly as they coasted across the continent. Down to Denmark,
to Germany, Austria and over the Baltic States. It was much faster travelling by
airship than over land, but it was still a long journey. By the time they reached
Greece, their provisions were running dangerously low.

Mr Doyle moored the ship at the ancient city of Athens to resupply. Neither Jack
nor Scarlet had visited before and they found it awe-inspiring. The city was a vast
grid of narrow streets nestled around ancient hills and monuments. White buildings
with red-tile roofs were crammed next to marble buildings. Columns topped with statues
of Greek heroes speared up everywhere.

‘What's that place on the hill?' Jack asked.

‘The Acropolis,' Mr Doyle said. ‘It's a citadel dating back to ancient times. There
are many famous buildings in Greece. Possibly the most famous is the Parthenon.'

‘Isn't that in Rome?'

‘No, that's the
Pantheon
. The two are often confused,' Mr Doyle smiled. ‘The Parthenon
is a temple dedicated to the Goddess Athena.'

‘She's known as the Goddess of Wisdom,' Scarlet said. ‘Brinkie Buckeridge once fought
a pitched battle in the Parthenon. She defeated fifty men with swords. All she had
to defend herself was an umbrella and a poodle.'

‘An umbrella and a…what?' Jack asked.

‘It was a
very
vicious poodle.'

Jack knew better than to argue.

By the time they set off again, the sun was low in the sky and it was hot inside
the
Lion's Mane
. Below lay the sea. Jack watched the passing islands with interest.
They were like pieces of jewellery laid out on a sheet of shimmering glass. He could
see small towns on many of them, but several looked uninhabited.

‘There's a lot of islands down there,' he murmured.

‘Thousands,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Trying to find the right one is like finding a needle
in a haystack.' He examined his map. ‘I believe we are close, but it may take a few
minutes to determine which one is Kasos.'

Mr Doyle continued to examine his map. Finally he gave a satisfied grunt and steered
the airship towards a pair of sunbaked islands. The larger had hills running down
its centre with small towns and connecting roads on either side. He aimed the
Lion's
Mane
towards the southern end, bringing it in to land near a fishing port.

They disembarked, tying the
Lion's Mane
to a nearby
railing. An elderly man came
out of his house and Mr Doyle spoke to him in Greek before handing over a few coins.

‘It seems we must pay for parking,' the detective said. ‘Not an unreasonable request.'

‘Was he able to tell you anything about Miss Carfax?' Jack asked.

He nodded. ‘She is quite well known. She has a house on the shoreline about a mile
west of here.'

They followed a path around the coast. The ground was dry and rocky with scattered
scrub clinging to the hills. Far below, the sea was clear and clean; a sailing boat
moved across the shimmering water. Jack hoped they might be able to find accommodation;
the bunks on board the
Lion's Mane
were fine, but nothing like sleeping in a real
bed.

Jack spotted a large white house up the hill. It had two storeys and a flat roof
except for a circular dome, painted blue, at the rear. The doors were azure with
turquoise frames. Potted plants, crowded with flowers, hung along the walls. Wide
awnings protected the windows.

A small steamer lay moored in the harbour below. Mr Doyle quickened his pace.

‘I don't like the look of that vessel,' he said.

‘They may only be tourists,' Scarlet said.

‘We'll see.'

As they walked up the driveway to the front door, Jack heard a high-pitched scream
from inside.

Mr Doyle pulled out his gun and threw himself at the door.

‘Take your hands off that woman!' he shouted.

CHAPTER TWELVE

A man with blond hair slowly swung a machine gun towards Mr Doyle. ‘That's a very
nice revolver,' he said. ‘I suggest you put it down before you hurt yourself.'

‘You will be the ones surrendering your weapons,' Mr Doyle said. ‘The authorities
will be here within seconds.'

Another man with a scar running down the side of his face had a gun trained on a
woman with greying hair. Presumably, she was Phoebe Carfax. A black-haired man had
his weapon pointed at an elderly Greek maid tied to a chair.

A glance passed between Blondie and Scar Face.

‘I don't believe you,' Scar Face said. ‘You're lying.'

‘You don't have to believe me,' Mr Doyle replied. ‘Lower your weapons and no-one
will be hurt.'

‘Pain may be unavoidable,' Black Hair said.

‘Jack,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Release the lady that these men have so impolitely tied to
that chair.'

‘Don't move.'

Black Hair waved his machine gun at Jack. It was cool in the darkening room, lit
now by two oil lamps on the mantelpiece, but a trickle of sweat slid down Jack's
cheek.

Mr Doyle cocked his head. ‘Ah,' he said. ‘That sounds like the police.'

Black Hair looked to his companions. At the same moment, Mr Doyle grabbed Jack and
Scarlet, dragging them behind a stone table. Then he fired twice at the lamps and
they exploded, scattering fire across the room. Black Hair fired the machine gun
back, razing the wall behind them.

‘They're over there, officers!' Mr Doyle cried. ‘Shoot! Shoot!'

The two men shot at the open door and Mr Doyle rolled out from behind the table.
In the flickering light he was more like a ghost than a man. He crossed the room
in an instant. Phoebe swung about, elbowing Blondie in the stomach, just as Mr Doyle
reached Black Hair and knocked him out with a single blow.

Jack heard a sound from behind. Climbing to his feet, he saw the silhouettes of men,
armed with machine guns, racing up the path.

Somehow I don't think they're the police
.

He threw himself at the door, slamming it shut, and jammed an armchair under the
handle. Scarlet crept over to him.

‘Not wanting more visitors?' she asked.

‘I'm a party pooper,' he said. The door shuddered as men hammered against it.

Scarlet grabbed Jack's arm. ‘Come on,' she said. ‘Move! Those men have guns!'

They scrambled towards Mr Doyle and Phoebe Carfax. The detective had disposed of
Scar Face and was now engaged in a fistfight with Blondie. Phoebe snatched up a candlestick,
swung it like a baseball bat, and the man slipped senseless to the ground.

Bullets smashed through the timber door. Jack and Scarlet went to help the maid,
who was struggling to remove her bonds. Now she finally broke loose, but cried out
as another wave of bullets sliced through the door. She fell in a heap.