The Broken Sun (7 page)

‘Why would anyone search for an intruder?' Mr Doyle asked. ‘Everyone thought the
crime had already taken place.'

‘When the
real
crime was to steal the piece of the Broken Sun after the museum closed,'
Jack said.

Mr Roylott looked ill. ‘I ordered this section closed off after the robbery. The
staff normally run a security sweep of the entire building at closing time. But they
skipped this floor.'

‘But why go to so much trouble to hide someone in the museum?' Greystoke asked.

‘I imagine it is much easier to break into the vault downstairs once you're actually
inside,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Is that correct, Silas?'

‘It is,' Roylott confirmed, dabbing sweat from his brow. ‘The building is a fortress
at night. Nothing in. Nothing out.'

Inspector Greystoke was now shaking his head in amazement. ‘And you're saying the
thief stayed here overnight,' he said, ‘and walked out scot free?'

‘Not at all,' Ignatius Doyle said, grabbing the arm of a figure in the exhibit. ‘The
thief has been standing here with us the whole time.'

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jack's mouth fell open as the saw the mannequin—or what he had believed to be a mannequin—spring
to life. The small man had been so silent, so motionless, that he had blended in
perfectly. He was slim and shorter than Jack, with dark skin and cropped black hair.
Over his shoulder hung a bag that could only contain one thing—the Broken Sun.

When Mr Doyle went to grab him, the stranger delivered a kick to the detective's
abdomen. Mr Doyle slumped to the floor. Inspector Greystoke came next, arms outstretched,
but he was knocked into the display, sending mannequins everywhere. The thief sprinted
away.

‘Stop him!' Mr Roylott yelled.

Jack gave chase, leaping from the diorama and racing across the room. The stranger
was lithe and unbelievably fast. An alert police officer tried to grab him, but the
thief slapped him to the ground.

He flew out the main doors of the museum.
I can't believe he's so quick
, Jack thought.
He's like an athlete.

Outside, it had started to rain. Jack followed the thief down a side lane, slipping.
The little man also slid and fell, giving Jack a chance to close the gap before the
stranger disappeared from sight.

Jack reached the end of the lane, breathing hard. Ahead lay a dilapidated street.
A railway line cut across the end. This part of town, like so many in London, was
slated for demolition. The rain fell harder, sending the few people on the street
racing for cover.

He must have ducked into one of the buildings. But which one?

‘Excuse me, sir,' Jack said to a passing man. ‘Did you see—'

The man ignored him, hurrying past.

Jack spotted a small boy with red curly hair sitting on a nearby doorstep.

‘Did you see a man run down the street?' he asked.

The boy said nothing.

‘I've got some candy. Would you like a piece?'

The boy nodded. Jack produced the wrapped piece from his green coat and held it out.
Just as the boy reached for it, Jack pulled it away.

‘Did you see a man run by here?'

‘Yes.'

‘Where did he go?'

The boy indicated a building across the road. Jack handed him the sweet and ran to
the house. The house was sandwiched between brick terraces, most of them burnt out,
and its front windows were boarded up, the door secured with a bolt and padlock,
the bottom panel broken.

Jack peered through the gap to see a pair of legs scuttling up a flight of rickety
stairs. He squeezed through the door. Mould covered the carpet in large charcoal
patches and paint peeled from the walls in great strips like flayed skin. The place
smelt of mildew, the
plop plop
of dripping water echoing along the hall.

Jack's heart pounded, his face hot and flushed. It wasn't just from the pursuit.
He was afraid. The man knew he was being followed. And he was dangerous. Jack paused,
wondering if there might be a better method than confrontation.

‘My name is Jack Mason,' he called up the stairwell. ‘All I want is to get the artefact
back to the museum.'

He strained to hear, but the rain was falling so hard the man could have been dancing
a jig for all he knew.

‘I'm not interested in taking you to the police. Just give me the piece of the Broken
Sun and you can go free.'

More silence.

Jack began up the stairs. The first floor landing opened out onto three doors. Two
were open to rooms lined with more peeling wallpaper, and rotting
floorboards. A
pile of beer bottles lay in one. The other contained a broken kerosene lamp. Water
poured through holes in the ceiling.

I guess that only leaves number three
.

Slowly easing it open, Jack saw another empty room, but this time the window was
open. As he stepped forward, someone grabbed him from behind.

Jack bit back a scream and jumped half a foot into the air.

‘Scarlet!' he hissed. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘Taking a walk in the park! What do you think I'm doing?' She looked like she'd taken
a dip in the Thames. ‘Where's the thief?'

‘I'm not sure,' Jack said. ‘Wait here.'

He crossed the room. With every step the floor shuddered. The building was ready
for demolition. Too much weight on these floorboards might bring the whole place
down.

Jack reached the window. The little man could not have escaped through it. There
was no ledge to gain a foothold. Carefully tiptoeing back, Jack said, ‘This isn't
safe. You shouldn't be here.'

‘You're right,' Scarlet said. ‘I'll go home and take up knitting.'

‘All right, but be careful.'

‘I can look after myself.'

The next floor was identical, except the pressed-tin ceilings of the rooms had been
removed, exposing the joists and rafters. The sound of the rain hitting
the slate
roof was even louder.

The rooms were also empty. Shooting Scarlet a glance, Jack cautiously eased open
the final door. Inside the window was wide open, rain driven in by a howling wind.

He must have escaped onto the roof.

Scarlet pushed past. Jack told her to stop, but she didn't hear him. She was halfway
across when the floor gave a violent shudder. It groaned, shook and began to collapse.

‘No!' Jack yelled.

He threw himself at Scarlet, dragging her towards the window. They both reached for
the sill just as the floor disappeared.

It slammed into the floor below. And the floor below it. The sound was like an avalanche
and dust choked the air. The racket subsided, replaced by the sound of the pouring
rain. Jack pulled himself up, dragging Scarlet after him. They balanced on the sill.
The front of the building still stood, but the interior had been reduced to rubble.

‘Oh dear,' Scarlet said, looking at the debris. ‘What a nuisance.'

‘If facing certain death can be called a nuisance, then I suppose it is.'

‘Don't be silly.' She punched him in the shoulder. ‘Still, thanks for saving my life.'

‘That's all right. You can help rearrange my stamp collection later.'

Jack looked across the adjoining roofs. The man was long gone, but the demolition
had brought people into the street. Jack called down, ‘Would you mind getting the
police? And the fire brigade?'

An hour later Jack and Scarlet were back at the British Museum. Mr Doyle admonished
them for risking their lives.

‘Did you not hear me calling after you?' he growled. ‘You must stop taking these
terrible risks. We know very little about these people. You might have been killed.'

Jack and Scarlet promised to be more careful.

‘Where do we go from here?' Scarlet asked.

‘Home. I have sent for some information and I believe it will be there when we arrive.'

‘Information?'

‘You'll see.'

They hailed a steamcab and headed back to Bee Street. After Jack and Scarlet had
changed, they had a lunch of cucumber sandwiches prepared by Gloria in the sitting
room. A message arrived and Mr Doyle read it.

‘We've had some success,' Mr Doyle said. ‘I have the addresses of the other two men
who first discovered the Broken Sun.'

He picked up a parcel that had also been delivered, removed a book and leafed through
it.

‘What is it, Mr Doyle?' Scarlet asked.

‘This is what Professor Clarke had hidden in the safe at the hotel. Scotland Yard
were kind enough to forward it on.'

‘That might be what the thief was looking for,' Jack said. ‘Is it helpful?'

‘Hmm.' The detective raised an eyebrow. ‘You tell me.'

Jack started reading. Scarlet peered over his shoulder and stifled a laugh.

‘Oh dear,' she said. ‘That's most unexpected.'

‘Asparagus soup,' Jack read. ‘Shortbread, lasagne, tomatoes stuffed with mushroom
and garlic risotto.' He looked up. ‘It's a cookbook.'

‘Unfortunately, yes,' Mr Doyle said. ‘It seems the professor is rather a keen chef.
At least we still have the other men from the expedition.'

‘Do you think their lives are in danger?' Scarlet asked.

‘Undoubtedly. Whoever stole the Broken Sun from the museum will be after the other
pieces. The closest is in Scotland, held by Professor Richard Stein. We will leave
shortly.'

Gloria appeared. ‘She's ready and waiting,' she said.

‘
She
?' Jack said.

Mr Doyle smiled. ‘Who do you think?'

He led them to the far end of the building, which opened out onto a balcony. A set
of stairs took them to the roof where they found an airship moored—the
Lion's Mane
.

The vessel had been badly damaged after they had pursued one of the world's most
deadly assassins, a man known as the Chameleon.

The
Lion's Mane
was thirty-feet long with a gondola made from brass and timber. Steam
propelled the airship from two tubes beneath the gondola, and beneath these were
four other pipes that discharged smoke from the engine and a pair of skids for landing.

‘She looks wonderful, Mr Doyle,' Scarlet breathed.

‘As good as new,' Jack echoed.

‘
Better
,' said the detective. ‘I've made some improvements. There is now a refrigerator
on board.'

‘A refrigerator?' Jack said. ‘That's amazing.'

Mr Doyle nodded. ‘Refrigeration is one of the wonders of the modern age,' he said.

‘Will you be using it to preserve forensic samples?' Scarlet asked.

The detective looked surprised. ‘What a wonderful idea,' he said. ‘I just thought
it would store cheese.'

The engine had already been brought to the boil.

‘I need both of you to pack bags,' the detective said. ‘We will be away for a few
days. And Jack, can you see to Bertha?'

Jack headed to his room, a neat and tidy chamber with an en-suite bathroom. Back
at the orphanage, he had shared a room of this size with a dozen other boys. A duck
egg sat in the middle of his bed; Mr Doyle was always leaving items in his room to
test his powers of observation.

Jack had fallen into the habit of keeping a small bag packed with a change of clothing,
which he grabbed before retrieving Bertha from the kitchen. He walked
through to
reception where Gloria was typing.

‘We're going to be away for a few days,' he told her. ‘Will you be able to—'

‘—look after the girl?' Gloria said, smiling. ‘Of course.' She placed the cage on
her desk. ‘Looks like it's you and me, my dear.'

A few minutes later Jack, Scarlet and Mr Doyle were high above the streets of London,
heading north in a line of airships. Jack loved watching the passing scenery. The
new Houses of Parliament were on the Thames, several hundred feet east of Westminster.
One hundred stories high, they were shaped like two domed drums stuck together. The
top of each was decorated with a huge brass lion.

Soon the city was behind them and they were crossing farms and green hills. Jack
watched fields filled with pumpkins the size of steamcars and eight-legged horses,
inventions courtesy of the Darwinist League. He pointed them out to Scarlet.

‘We live in an incredible era,' she said. ‘But I suppose there are some things that
will never be improved upon.' ‘Like what?'

‘Steam, for example,' she said, her red hair glowing in the afternoon sunlight.

Jack's eyes settled on her. She really
was
the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

‘You're right,' he said dreamily. ‘You can't beat it.'

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘Welcome to Scotland,' Mr Doyle said.

While much of Britain was industrialised, great swathes of it still remained wild
and remote. Scotland was like this, where most of its people still lived as they
had for centuries. Some grew crops on small landholdings—oats, wheat and rye—tilling
the ground with wooden ploughs dragged by draft horses. Other farms kept sheep and
goats. Many towns were small, with no more than half-a-dozen homes, a pub and general
store.

Jack had toured Scotland a few times with his parents in the circus. He felt a pang
of sadness, touching the compass and picture in his pocket. They had been hard times,
but some of the happiest in his life.

‘Where are we headed?' Scarlet asked as Mr Doyle angled the
Lion's Mane
towards the
coast.

‘To a small town called Wick. Professor Stein was one of the experts to discover
the Broken Sun. Originally from the United States, he now resides in a castle known
as Castle Wick.'

‘Castle Wick in the town of Wick,' Jack said.