The Broken Sun (11 page)

Mr Doyle fired a few warning shots at the doorway as Phoebe rushed over. ‘Oh my God,'
she moaned. ‘Sophie's dead.'

‘I'm sorry, my dear,' Mr Doyle said.

The flames were spreading from the shattered lamps, jumping to the curtains and licking
the ceiling.

‘Not another burning building,' Jack said.

‘Looks like it,' Scarlet said.

‘We need to get out of here,' Phoebe Carfax said. ‘We can go out the back door.'

‘That won't be safe,' Mr Doyle said. ‘They'll be expecting us.'

‘Then let's try upstairs.'

Phoebe picked up one of the machine guns. Another hail of bullets reduced the front
door to matchsticks, the chair fell away and silhouetted figures appeared. Phoebe
opened fire.

Scarlet started, ‘This reminds me of a Brinkie book where—'

‘Not now, Scarlet,' Jack said.

At the top of the stairs, Mr Doyle hesitated.

‘Where to now?'

‘I thought you were in charge,' Phoebe said.

‘Isn't there another way out?'

‘Same old Ignatius Doyle. Still as impulsive as ever.'

Jack and Scarlet exchanged glances. That didn't sound like Mr Doyle at all.

Footsteps came from below. Mr Doyle herded Jack, Scarlet and Phoebe into the nearest
room, locking the door as Phoebe headed towards a painting. Jack noticed for the
first time that she dressed like a man, in brown trousers and a blue shirt.

What an incredible woman
, he thought.

‘Now isn't the time to admire the art,' Mr Doyle said.

Something exploded downstairs. The fire must have really taken hold. The door handle
turned, followed by a shot into the lock. Mr Doyle returned fire and somebody cried
out on the other side.

Tilting the painting, Phoebe revealed a safe embedded
in the wall. Unlocking it,
she removed a shining brass cylinder.

‘Good heavens,' Scarlet said.

‘The Broken Sun,' Jack breathed.

‘Only part of it,' Phoebe said with a quick smile. ‘But still one of the greatest
finds ever to come out of the ancient world.'

Mr Doyle had been peering out the window. ‘Here's our exit!' he said. ‘Quickly!'

Phoebe, Jack and Scarlet followed him through a pair of French doors onto a small
balcony. An awning hung below.

‘You can't expect me to jump onto that,' Phoebe said. ‘It's not safe!'

‘And staying here with a gang of killers is?' Mr Doyle lifted Phoebe into his arms.
‘Let's go!'

He launched himself over the side.

Jack and Scarlet followed a moment later, bouncing off the awning and landing on
a bulky mass.

Oof!

‘Well done!' Mr Doyle cried.

They had landed on one of the criminals, knocking him out cold!

The house was now fully alight. They ran down the path to a steamcar with its engine
running. Mr Doyle climbed behind the wheel, the others piling into the back. Jack
and Scarlet quickly introduced themselves to Phoebe as they roared down the road.
But she was hardly listening. She gave a small cry as she looked back
at her burning
home.

Mr Doyle glanced over his shoulder. ‘I'm so sorry about your house,' he said.

‘I'm sure you're not!' she snapped. ‘And it isn't the first time you've burnt down
my home.' She turned to Jack and Scarlet. ‘Does he do that a lot? Reduce buildings
to ashes.'

‘It does happen a bit,' Scarlet admitted.

Jack was more intrigued by Phoebe's other comment. ‘When did Mr Doyle burn down your
house?'

‘At least we've escaped,' Mr Doyle interrupted.

‘Except for dear Sophie,' Phoebe said, wiping away a tear. ‘She was a loyal employee
and a friend.'

Jack looked out at the dark sky. He began to breathe a little easier. They just needed
to get back to the
Lion's Mane
. He caught a glimpse of the moon—a brilliant round
globe in the sky—and then it was blotted out. Something slammed into the steamcar's
roof, almost knocking them off the road. Mr Doyle cursed, struggling for control.

A small airship had swiped the top of their vehicle. Jack watched in horror as it
made a sharp turn and zoomed towards them once more.

‘Look out!' he cried.

The airship slammed into their vehicle again. Mr Doyle swerved, fighting to steer
it back to the centre of the moonlit road. He passed a machine gun back to Phoebe.

‘See if you can stop them,' he yelled.

Phoebe pushed Jack aside, leaned out the window, braced the weapon against her shoulder
and fired. The airship crashed into the roof of their car again.

‘The gondola is metal,' she yelled. ‘I can't penetrate it.'

‘Fire at the balloon!' ordered Mr Doyle.

‘Is that safe?' Scarlet asked.

Airship balloons were filled with hydrogen. Bullets might cause it to burst into
flame, crash into their car and kill them all.

‘We'll be fine,' the detective said. ‘I think.'

Phoebe fired a few more rounds. The car was hit again, this time almost tipping over.
Jack and Scarlet grabbed Phoebe around the waist to stop her from flying out. They
dragged her inside.

‘Thank you,' she said. ‘But we now have another problem.'

‘What's that?' Mr Doyle asked, zigzagging the steamcar about the road to avoid their
attackers. ‘Is it another airship?'

‘I dropped the machine gun.'

‘What?'

‘No-one could have held on to it!' she snapped. ‘I almost fell out of the car!'

‘This is no time for an argument,' Jack said, glancing at Scarlet. He was beginning
to understand why these two hadn't spoken in years. ‘I think the airship's—'

The steamcar was hit again, but this time Mr Doyle couldn't keep them on the road.
The car shot across a
rocky, uneven field. A grappling hook speared through the rear
passenger window, sending glass everywhere as it sunk into the roof like a hook catching
a fish. It had come from the airship. The car began to tilt off the ground.

Jack cried out as he crashed into Scarlet.

They're trying to upend us.

‘Get ready to jump!' Mr Doyle yelled.

‘What?' Phoebe cried. ‘From a moving vehicle?'

‘They'll have us in a second!'

‘But…but…'

‘Get ready to jump and roll!'

‘Look!' Scarlet cried.

The shimmering sea lay ahead. Mr Doyle was driving them directly towards a cliff.
‘Almost there!' he yelled. ‘And now…jump!'

Phoebe pushed the door open and leapt with a curse. Scarlet disappeared through the
opposite door. Jack followed, hitting the ground hard, but rolling as his parents
had taught him in the circus. He caught sight of Mr Doyle making a similar exit.

The car flew off the cliff, the spear still attached, and plummeted towards the sea,
dragging the airship down with it.

‘Run!' Mr Doyle yelled.

The rear end of the airship slammed into the cliff face, missing them by inches.
There was a large tearing sound as it flipped over the side and crashed into the
rocks below.

Wa-oophf!

The hydrogen ignited, turning night into day.

Jack shielded his eyes, joining the others as they carefully made their way back
to the edge. The heat was immense as the hydrogen burned away. The rocky shore lay
fifty feet below. What remained of the airship was broken and smouldering, the ribs
of the balloon like the bones of a beached whale. The steamcar had also torn apart
and was now fully ablaze.

Phoebe Carfax started down the slope.

‘My dear,' Mr Doyle said. ‘What are you doing?'

‘What does it look like?' She cast him an exasperated glance. ‘The other pieces
of the Broken Sun may be aboard the airship.'

Mr Doyle sighed, turning to Jack and Scarlet.

‘She may need some assistance,' Scarlet said.

‘Phoebe has always been able to look after herself,' Ignatius Doyle said. ‘Still,
there may be some clues to be found.'

After ordering Jack and Scarlet to stay on the cliff, Mr Doyle and Phoebe examined
the remains of the car. They disappeared into the shattered compartment of the airship's
gondola, emerging a few minutes later with a bag. They scrambled up the slope.

Phoebe's face was aglow with excitement. ‘We have them,' she said breathlessly. ‘The
other pieces of the Broken Sun. With these we will find New Atlantis!'

Mr Doyle was less excited. ‘We still don't know who owned the airship. No-one on
board survived the
crash. And the men carried no identification. We are indeed lucky
that the bag containing the artefact was not destroyed in the crash.'

‘Imagine that,' Scarlet said. ‘Atlantis.'

‘
New
Atlantis,' Jack corrected her.

‘And still a myth until I see evidence,' Mr Doyle said.

‘Which I hope to provide,' Phoebe said. ‘Once we sit down to properly examine the
artefact.'

‘I suggest returning to my residence in London,' Mr Doyle said to Phoebe. ‘I doubt
anywhere in Greece would be safe right now.'

‘I'm not sure we're safe anywhere at all,' Phoebe said. ‘But your place is as good
as any.'

They walked back to the village where the locals had been roused by the airship's
explosion. One of the shop owners promised Phoebe that the authorities would be summoned
and a decent burial arranged for Sophie.

After boarding the
Lion's Mane
, Jack stoked the engine, asking Mr Doyle if he had
discovered anything else aboard the wrecked airship or car.

‘Surprisingly little,' the detective admitted. ‘The men were well built and heavily
tattooed. I suspect they were mercenaries.'

‘There was nothing to indicate the owner of the car, either,' Phoebe said.

‘Their employer must be rich,' Mr Doyle said. ‘And have international connections.
Not everyone could afford such an operation—or know whom to hire.'

‘There was a boat in the harbour when we arrived,' Scarlet said.

‘It wasn't there when we left. I suspect they took off when they realised their plans
had gone awry.'

Jack turned to Phoebe. ‘Do you know anyone who would kill to find New Atlantis?'

‘Only every archaeologist on the planet,' Phoebe sighed. ‘No, I'm exaggerating. Most
archaeologists don't believe it ever existed. But its discovery
would
be the greatest
archaeological find in history.'

‘What do you think?' Scarlet asked. ‘Do you really believe it existed?'

‘Oh yes. Every piece of evidence I've accumulated over the years indicates it was
real, and years ahead of its time.'

‘I'll believe it when I see it,' Mr Doyle said.

‘If you're not interested in Atlantis,' Phoebe said, ‘then why are you here?'

Mr Doyle did not immediately answer. ‘I have a separate investigation,' he said.
‘It has intersected with your own.'

They were ready for departure. With the mooring ropes cast off, the
Lion's Mane
climbed
into the sky. Looking back over the darkened island, they saw a small fire burning
ferociously.

‘That's my home,' Phoebe said. ‘Or it was.'

‘I'm so sorry, my dear,' Mr Doyle said.

Phoebe sighed, turning to Jack and Scarlet. ‘Has he told you how he burnt down my
other home?'

Mr Doyle tutted. ‘That was hardly a residence.'

‘I
lived
there!'

‘It was the gardener's cottage at Oxford,' Mr Doyle explained. ‘Although, admittedly,
Phoebe was living there at the time.'

‘And you burnt it down?' Scarlet said.

Phoebe turned to the detective. ‘Really, Ignatius. What sort of impression have you
given your young assistants?'

The detective was suddenly very busy examining the airship's console. ‘It was a long
time ago,' he said. ‘It must have slipped my mind.'

‘Is that like the country of Norway slipping my mind?' Jack asked.

Phoebe continued before Mr Doyle could reply. ‘Your employer was quite a scoundrel
at Oxford,' she said. ‘A very naughty boy.'

Jack and Scarlet exchanged glances.

Mr Doyle? A very naughty boy?

Impossible!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘England!' Mr Doyle said. ‘Glorious England!'

It seemed like a hundred years had passed since they had left. Now the sun creased
the horizon as they neared the coastline.

Mr Doyle prepared a small meal of tinned kippers and vegetables while Phoebe Carfax
made tea. At first, Jack had thought Phoebe to be bad-tempered, but he soon realised
that what appeared to be a difficult personality was in fact a wicked sense of humour.

‘We'll need to work on that hair now we're returning to civilisation,' Phoebe told
Jack, producing a comb from nowhere. ‘I've seen bird's nests that are more orderly.'

‘I'm always talking to Jack about his hair,' Scarlet
grinned. As usual, her own was
brushed, flowing as smoothly as a stream in spring. ‘I check it occasionally for
insects. There was a preying mantis in there once.'

Phoebe wrestled Jack's hair into submission. ‘That's not true,' he protested. ‘It
was a grasshopper—and a small one at that!'

When they were sitting around the dining table to eat, Phoebe told them she looked
forward to trying to crack the code contained within the Broken Sun.

Mr Doyle made a
harrump,
spearing a kipper with his fork.

‘Mock me all you want, Ignatius,' Phoebe said. ‘All the evidence points to it.'

‘Rumours do not count as evidence.'

‘Place a blind man in a room with a vase and he is able to determine it is pottery.'