The Broken Sun (8 page)

Mr Doyle winked at them. ‘Let's hope he's not wick-ed.'

Jack and Scarlet groaned.

‘It was a ruin,' Mr Doyle went on, ‘until it was restored several years ago. Hopefully
it will still have the same fortifications.'

They travelled on in silence. Mr Doyle followed the shoreline until they were almost
at the most north-eastern point of the mainland. Beyond here Jack could see only
the specks of land that made up the Orkney Islands.

Mr Doyle gave a grunt of satisfaction and brought the airship down in a meadow. Castle
Wick was a large square structure with battlements, perched perilously close to a
cliff face overlooking the sea. To Jack's eyes the building looked authentic; whoever
had done the restoration had done a fine job of it.

Scarlet pointed to one of the windows. ‘I just saw a curtain move.'

‘They probably don't get many visitors in this part of the country,' Mr Doyle said.
‘I hope the professor is gracious.'

The entrance was an oak door set into the stonework.
It swung open as they approached
and a gaunt man, reminiscent of a praying mantis, appeared. ‘State your business!'
he snapped, with the trace of an American accent. ‘My time is precious!'

‘Are you Professor Stein?'

‘I am.'

‘We believe you may be in great danger.'

‘Danger? What kind of danger?'

‘A piece of the Broken Sun has been stolen from the British Museum.'

‘That's garbage! Impossible!'

Jack shot Scarlet a look.

And we came here to help this man?

‘I'm afraid it is the case,' Mr Doyle said.

The professor's eyes narrowed. ‘I see. And you think someone may be coming here to
steal my piece of the map? Castle Wick is impregnable. Nothing can breach its defences.'

‘Yet you have been worried,' Mr Doyle said.

Stein folded his arms. ‘What gives you that idea?'

‘You were cleaning your gun this morning.'

The professor blinked. ‘How the hell—'

‘It is simplicity itself. There is a distinctive mark on your left hand that results
from the cleaning of a revolver. In addition, I can smell the oil used on such a
weapon.'

For the first time, Richard Stein's confidence was shaken. His eyes searched the
open fields behind them. ‘I am simply being cautious,' he said. ‘The Broken Sun is
a priceless artefact.'

‘Have you checked it today?'

‘There is no need.'

‘I suggest you do so.'

‘The impudence—' Stein almost bounced up and down with anger. Somehow he regained
control of himself. ‘Wait here!'

The door slammed.

‘What a lovely man,' Mr Doyle said. ‘We must invite him for Christmas.'

‘What will we do now?' Jack asked.

Mr Doyle sighed. ‘Helping a man who claims to not need assistance is rather problematic.
It would seem—' But he did not finish. A shot rang out. ‘What the devil!'

There was a cry, and another shot from inside. Mr Doyle pushed against the door;
the professor had not bolted it. They rushed through a cloakroom into a foyer decorated
with armour and family crests. Up a winding staircase, they found Professor Stein
on the floor in the hallway, his face white with terror.

He pointed into a room with a shaking hand. ‘There!' he cried. ‘There!'

Jack caught a glimpse of a figure disappearing through the window—the black-haired
man from the museum. Jack tore to the window, only to see the man scuttling down
the wall like a spider.

‘My goodness!' Scarlet said.

Jack was amazed. He had never seen anyone climb with such ease and he was holding
a piece of the
Broken Sun! The gold baton, with its myriad of strange symbols, glittered
in the sunlight.

The professor lurched into the room. ‘You must retrieve the artefact!' he shouted.
‘It's priceless!'

They raced out of the castle. The thief was sprinting across a field towards a hill.
Jack started after him, but Mr Doyle grabbed his arm and pointed back to the
Lion's
Mane
.

‘He must have transportation,' Mr Doyle said. ‘If he does, we'll never catch him
on foot.'

Mr Doyle was right. No sooner had they risen above the field did they see another
small airship taking off.

But Mr Doyle had them over the water in seconds. The thief's airship was faster than
the
Lion's Mane
. He headed to a tiny island and rapidly descended to the beach. Mr
Doyle landed just as the man disappeared inland on foot.

‘Best have Clarabelle ready,' the detective said, drawing his gun as they left the
airship. ‘Stay behind me.'

They made their way over a sandy knoll. The island was a wild, windswept place, covered
in jagged hills and crevices. Flurries of sand danced over rocky dunes. Birds soared
overhead, singing mournful songs. They followed a trail of footsteps until Mr Doyle
grunted and drew to a halt.

‘There's something wrong here,' he said, pointing at the prints. ‘They are deeper
at the heel than the toe.'

‘Why is that strange?' Jack asked.

‘If he is running—which we can assume he is—his toes should be sinking into the ground
first. Unless…' The detective snapped his fingers. ‘What a fool I am! He has doubled
back behind us.'

They raced back the way they had come. Another set of prints had already disturbed
their own. Just as they reached the shore, they glimpsed the
Lion's Mane
taking off
towards the coast.

‘That scoundrel!' Mr Doyle snapped. ‘He's stolen our ship!'

The thief's vessel lay moored on the beach, the name on the bow identifying it as
the
Pimpernel
. They climbed aboard, only to find that the control panel had been
smashed beyond repair.

Jack watched the
Lion's Mane
disappear into the clouds.

‘He's getting away,' Mr Doyle said, ‘and we're stuck on this island with no way to
return.'

CHAPTER NINE

It was cold and dark on the island. The
Pimpernel
had blankets, but no pillows or
food supplies. Mr Doyle started a fire while the team turned to their emergency supplies
for sustenance.

‘Beef jerky,' Jack said, biting down on the hard meat. ‘There's nothing quite like
it.'

‘There is, actually,' Mr Doyle said, warming his hands. ‘I once ate my belt. It had
a similar taste.'

‘You ate—' Scarlet stopped. ‘Mr Doyle, did you say you once ate your
belt
?'

‘I did. I was stranded in the Carpathian Mountains without food and water. It was
either eat my clothing or die of starvation.'

‘How horrible.'

‘It tasted far better than my boots,' Mr Doyle said, shuddering. ‘I still have nightmares
about those boots.'

The wind came up and they huddled around the fire. Jack's eyes settled on Scarlet.
She was an incredible girl. There was never a word of complaint from her. It seemed
her spirit could not be quashed.

And she was so pretty! Even now her tangled hair, cast about by the breeze, perfectly
framed her pixie face. And her eyes were as green as a deep forest. Her lips—

‘What's wrong?' Scarlet demanded, staring at him.

‘Huh?'

‘You're grinning at me oddly. Is there something in my hair?'

‘No!' Jack blushed. ‘I was just thinking.'

‘Well don't! It doesn't suit you!'

The temperature continued to drop. It may have been spring, but the strong onshore
wind was icy. They kept an eye on the water, but no ships came into sight. The discussion
returned to the case. Jack was enthusiastic that they had possession of the thief's
vessel until Mr Doyle pointed out it was stolen.

‘There are papers on board indicating the
Pimpernel
belongs to a Lady Jefferson of
Sussex. She appears to own two dachshunds named Zali and Koko,' he said. ‘I have
taken note of the airship's registration number, but I doubt it will lead to anything.'

Early the next morning, Mr Doyle managed to hail a passing fishing boat that took
them back to the
mainland. They ate a hearty meal in town before heading to Professor
Stein's castle. He was able to add little to what he had already told them: the robbery
was still a mystery to him—as was the theft from the British Museum.

‘Professor Stein is lying,' Mr Doyle said as they travelled on a train back to London.
‘He knows more than he's letting on. We did learn one thing that may help us. The
professor made a small slip about the artefact when we met him.'

Jack thought hard. ‘He said the Broken Sun was part of a map.'

‘Good boy.'

‘It's hard to believe that odd contraption could be part of a map,' Scarlet mused.

‘There have been many strange maps throughout history,' Mr Doyle said. ‘One of the
most unusual was a medieval German map of the world made by Gervase of Ebstorf. Measuring
twelve feet wide, it was constructed from the skin of thirty goats.'

They arrived back at Bee Street a few hours later. Gloria threw together an impromptu
lunch of sausages and potatoes, and Jack and Scarlet ate in the sitting room while
Mr Doyle leafed through his mail. Jack turned to see a goldfish bowl filled with
glass eyes. He was sure it hadn't been there before.

Gloria stuck her head in. ‘I have good news,' she said. ‘The
Lion's Mane
has been
found abandoned in Edmonton.'

‘Is she damaged?' Mr Doyle asked.

Gloria confirmed the vessel was in excellent condition and already on route to them.
The reception bell rang and she went to answer it, returning with a business card.

‘There's a gentleman to see you,' she said. ‘Tobias Bradstreet.'

‘The mining tycoon?' Mr Doyle frowned. ‘Did he state his business?'

‘Something about being able to help you with your investigation.'

Scarlet bit her lip. ‘How would he know what we're investigating?'

‘That is a mystery,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Show him in, Gloria.'

The man who stepped through the door was tall and thin with steel grey hair and broad
shoulders. He carried a grave air about him, but he still smiled as he shook hands
and took a seat.

‘I'll get straight to the point,' Bradstreet said. ‘I know you're involved in the
investigation of some stolen artefacts. I also have an interest in retrieving those
same pieces.'

‘I am curious to know how you found out about our investigation,' Mr Doyle said.

‘Let's just say I have eyes and ears everywhere. I would like to engage your services.'

‘I am already employed by the British Museum. Obviously any information about the
Broken Sun would be helpful.' Mr Doyle paused. ‘I assume you're one of
the investors
who backed the original expedition.'

‘I am. I've long had an interest in archaeology.'

‘What is so important about the Broken Sun?'

‘Let me ask you a question,' Bradstreet said. ‘What do you know about Atlantis?'

‘Atlantis?' Mr Doyle frowned. ‘It's a mythical city, first mentioned in the writings
of Plato around 360 BC. Supposedly it was destroyed by a disaster some 10,000 years
ago.'

‘What if I told you it wasn't a myth?'

‘Surely you don't believe that?'

‘I do.'

‘Why?'

Bradstreet shook his head. ‘Let's just say I've come across some evidence that confirms
it was as real as London is today.'

‘I find that hard to believe,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Even ancient scholars thought it imaginary.
It has only been in recent times that people have believed it really existed.'

‘It did exist and I intend to find it.'

Scarlet ran her hands through her hair. ‘So the pieces of the Broken Sun are some
kind of map? A map that leads to Atlantis?'

Bradstreet nodded. ‘The evidence indicates Atlantis was an island in the Atlantic
Ocean located to the west of Gibraltar. The cataclysm that destroyed it did so in
a day and a night. It has been long rumoured that the Atlanteans were decimated by
their own technology.' He clenched his fists. ‘But I believe the map leads to
something
far more valuable.'

‘More valuable than Atlantis?' Jack asked.

‘Indeed. I believe it points to the location of
New
Atlantis.'

‘New Atlantis?' Mr Doyle said. ‘You think the Atlanteans survived the disaster?'

‘Of course they did!' Bradstreet stood and began to pace the room. ‘They were an
advanced race. Years ahead of anyone else. They could not be destroyed in one fell
swoop! They escaped the disaster and rebuilt their empire. The question is,
where
?'

‘It's a very entertaining story,' Mr Doyle said. ‘However, I'm not a treasure hunter,
I'm a detective. I doubt I can be of assistance to you.'

‘We are on the same path,' Bradstreet urged. ‘Why not work together to solve one
of history's greatest mysteries?'

‘I'm
not
a treasure hunter.'

Tobias Bradstreet pursed his lips. ‘I can double what the British Museum is paying
you. Triple it.'

‘I'm sorry.'

Bradstreet sighed. ‘That is a shame. With my money and resources, you could have
been part of the most incredible investigation of your life. I would have thought
more of the famous Ignatius Doyle.'

Mr Doyle smiled. ‘I'm sorry I don't live up to my reputation.'

The men shook hands and Tobias Bradstreet departed.

‘Atlantis!' Jack said. ‘I thought it was only a legend!'

‘It
is
only a legend,' Mr Doyle said.