Mindspaces

by Hazel Edwards

Boys from another school were watching. So were some guys in tracksuits. Art felt bad. Mario was from his school.

  ‘The coin’s missing!’ The security guard looked worried. ‘The rare gold sovereign. I looked at it five minutes ago. It was there then.’

  ‘Has anyone been in the gallery?’ Art glanced at his watch. 2.11pm

  ‘Yes. Some students. A man in a grey dust coat. Domestic staff. A sports team. And you.’

  ‘We didn’t take the coin,’ said Art. ‘But we’ll help you find it.’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ said India firmly.’ We’ve got to get back for our TOM performance.’ She hobbled away.

  Protesting, Art followed her. ‘Where would you hide a coin?’

  ‘It’s so small, it could be anywhere. Forget it. Mrs. Tasker’s waiting.’

  How could Art the super sleuth forget a million dollar mystery.

  ‘But where would you hide it if you were in a hurry?’ Art kept trying.

  ‘With some other coins.’

  That gave him an idea. He’d look for other places where coins were used in the university.

  Chapter 6

  Rare Coin Thief

  ‘Can I borrow your map, India?’

  Security staff and police were already searching the university grounds. The gallery guard was really upset.

  ‘I’ll lose my job over this. First someone breaks into the computer room. Now this!’ he kept muttering.

  ‘Was anything stolen from the computer room?’ asked Art.

  ‘Not that I can see. But I’ve rung up the professor and she’s coming in to have a look. They’ve been doing some secret work on wind.’

  ‘What sort of wind?’

  ‘Can’t tell you,’ said the guard. Art wasn’t sure if he was keeping a secret or didn’t know.

  India whispered. “My aunty told me about using wind for power. It’s called wind farming.’

  ‘Did the thieves know the key code?’ asked Art.

  ‘Maybe,’said the guard. ‘Nothing was broken.’

  India gave Art the black and white map. ‘Take it. But don’t be back late! Our team needs you.’ She pointed to the black square. ‘We’re here now. Outside the gallery. There’s the Terminal Room. And there’s lecture theatre 4. Be on time, or else!’

  As she hobbled away, Art put the map on the ground. That made it easier to work out where things fitted. Where might a coin thief go? Where could the coin be hidden until the hunt stopped? He turned the map around. With his red pen, he marked the gallery with a cross. Then he looked at the other places nearby. Union Building. He knew that’s where the university students went to eat.

  Did the coin thief work in the university?

  Could the coin be hidden somewhere nearby and picked up later? Or had the thief left already? Did he go by car, bike or on the bus? The guards on the gate couldn’t search everybody. Art hunched over the map, his bottom in the air.

  ‘Get out of the way, Art!’ Rae struggled past with a recorder. Art moved, then looked around. Crowds of parents and friends had come to watch the TOM performers. Could the thief be one of them?

  ‘Need a map, Artie? Don’t you know where you are? ‘Mario walked past carrying props.

  Art ignored him. The problem of the missing coin was far more interesting. The university was so big, the thief could be anywhere. As he turned the map around, Art suddenly realised. ‘This is the wrong way to work!’

  ‘Talking to yourself again, Artie?’ Mario made ‘going mad’ signs with his hand twirling around his ear. ‘Artie’s so slow if you close your eyes for ten minutes, he’ll still be in the same place.’

  Rae couldn’t help smiling.

  Art knew Mario was good at insults. So what! Art went back to his problem. Why was the coin stolen? How? When? Who? They were the important questions. The thief had turned off the alarm somehow, lifted the glass and taken only the rare coin. The theft had happened between 2 and 2.10 pm.

  But who might the thief be? And why had the coin been taken? And what about the computer room break-in?

  His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

  ‘Doesn’t anything work around here?’ Mario complained. ‘I want a drink.’

  The drink machine outside lecture theatre 4 had an OUT OF ORDER sign.

  ‘Try the Union building.’ India knew her way around. ’There’s another drink machine there. You’ll need coins, but it gives change.’

  That gave Art an idea. Mrs. Tasker was the oldest olden- days person around. She would be best to ask.

  ‘Excuse me, Mrs. T. Was the olden- days sovereign bigger than a dollar coin?’

  ‘No, the sovereign was smaller.’Mrs.Tasker watched India trying to fix the recorder which had stuck. They needed sound effects for their performance. But coaches weren’t supposed to interfere.

  ‘Thanks Mrs. T, I’ll be back in a few minutes.’ First, Art checked the OUT OF ORDER drink machine. The sign might be fake. Or if someone had put in a smaller coin, it might have jammed. Or the coin could be hidden inside. He felt around. His fingers didn’t quite fit inside. Then he checked the change chute. It could be a hiding place.

  Nothing!

  No luck. Sleuths were wrong, sometimes.

  Of course, there were other snack machines here. Art went looking. In the Union building, Mario was getting his drink and change.

  ‘Want a drink, Artie? Get your own.’

  Art looked closely at the snack pictures. He didn’t have enough change for Coke. What happened if people put the wrong coins in? Would they jam the machine? By accident? Or on purpose?

  Just then, the hum of a vacuum cleaner started up. Art turned. He saw a man in a grey dust-coat. On his back was a vacuum cleaner. He cleaned the floor in front of the snack machine.

  ‘Hey!’ called the security guard.

  The cleaner looked around so quickly, he dropped something on the floor. Something rattled up the hose of the cleaner. Now his back was to Art. A suspect?

  He was the one who had been in the gallery. Was he the coin thief? His grey dustcoat had chemical stains. His pockets were weighed down with something. Was it coins? Or was it keys? As he turned, Art saw his ID badge but couldn’t read his name. How could Art find out if the man was a thief? He felt for his wallet.

  ‘Excuse me, would you have change of five dollars, please?’

  The man ignored Art. Was it the vacuum cleaner noise? Was he deaf? Or was it for some other reason?

  Art never gave in. He reached up and tapped the man on the shoulder. ‘Excuse me, weren’t you in the gallery before?’ The man turned around. “I clean everywhere.’

  So he could hear! He pushed the vacuum cleaner towards Art’s feet. Art stepped back.

  ‘Hey Artie!’

  Not Mario again. This time Rae was with him, panting. ‘Found you. Mrs. Tasker says they’re running late.’

  ‘Why?’

  “By mistake, the cleaner locked lecture theatre 4. They had to find someone else with a key.’

  Art looked at his watch. ‘What time do we have to be there?’

  ‘Our team is on at 3.30 now. And yours will be fifteen minutes later. Just thought you might like to know when our team gives its winning performance,’ said Mario.’ See you.’

  ‘Okay, said Art as Mario jogged off. If Rae hadn’t been with Mario, Art might have been suspicious. Mario might tell him the wrong time just so he’d miss out. If Art were missing, his team would lose points.

  Art looked down to check his map. When he looked up, the cleaner had vanished. Where had he gone? There were two doors in front. Art pushed at the first one. It had a number 1 on the door. It creaked open. He peered around the corner. He’d never been in a lecture theatre before. There were rows and rows of seats. They weren’t numbered. In the front was a high table. There was a sink ,with knobs and b
uttons for light switches. Art pressed a button. Overhead lights flickered on. He pressed another button. A TV camera came out of the wall. It swivelled around. He pressed another button. Red exit lights switched off. It was fun.

  But now the door was shut. The lights were off. It was totally black. Art couldn’t even make out the shape of the seats. Then he heard a sound. Someone was moving!

  ‘Out of my way!’

  in the dark, someone brushed against him. As the door opened ,Art saw a figure against the light.

  ‘Stop!’

  But the man had gone. Where was Grey Coat? Art listened. He couldn’t hear the vacuum cleaner.

  Why did Grey Coat go in there? Was he hiding something? Or was he just trying to get away from Art’s questions?

  Out in the breezeway between the lecture theatres, teams huddled. Each group had seven students in little blotches of similar school colours. Some fussed. Some looked anxious. Most were having fun, fooling around. Art was beginning to feel glad he’d come. Shadowing Grey Coat was spy fun. And a million dollar mystery was a big one.

  Then he saw Grey Coat again, just turning the corner of the building. The light touched on his backpack. At that moment, a boy walked past, carrying a ladder.

  ‘Hey!’

  The boy swung around, forgetting he had the ladder behind him.

  ‘Look out!’

  The ladder hit the man in the middle.

  ‘Oooofffpppph!’

  Winded, the cleaner grabbed his stomach.

  A few people laughed, because he wasn’t really hurt. Something dropped on the ground and fell in the gutter. The man bent to pick it up, then hurried away. At the corner, he met a girl wearing a motorcyclist’s helmet. She wore a black leather suit. He handed her something. Glancing at his watch, Art decided to follow them. But what if they split? Should he follow Grey Coat or the girl? He still had ten minutes. But he had to get to the presentation on time, or his team would lose points. Then India would chuck a mental.

  Art ran down the passageway. The bikie girl with the helmet had gone this way. It was so dark, he couldn’t see the end. He slowed down. A corner. He skidded to a stop. Around the corner were two doors. Left or right? He tugged at the left door. It opened.

  ‘Oh, no!’

  Brooms, mops and a bucket.

  So he tugged at the right door.

  ‘This time, right is right!’

  Ahead of him, someone was panting hard. Art followed but he was too slow. The person was getting further and furthering front. Art turned another corner. Now there were four doors. All looked the same. Now he was lost. The corridors were like a maze. Grey walls. Grey doors. Dark windows. Science equipment on benches behind locked doors. Computer screens like dead robot faces. More locked doors. Signs. HAZCHEM.He knew what that meant. Dangerous chemicals were stored there.

  Why was the girl running away? Who was she? What was she doing here? Was bikie girl working with the coin thief?

  Breathing hard, he felt for his puffer. No, it was okay. He took in some more air. He breathed more slowly. Art the super sleuth and part-time spy was going to find out!

  Chapter 7

  I.D.

  Outside the computer room, Art stopped. Slowly he spelled out the letters in the ‘Terminal’ sign.

  A tall, thin woman was punching the code-numbers on the key alongside the door. She also tried the door with her swipe card. It wouldn’t open. So she started punching again, and something fell from her handbag.

  ‘Hey!’ yelled the security guard, running up behind Art. ‘What are you doing?’

  The woman turned. Black hair was piled on top of her head.

  ‘I could ask you the same question,’ she said firmly.

  ‘I’m Security. Where’s your ID?’

  The woman fumbled in her bag. Was she trying to find a gun? A pen dropped on the ground.

  ‘I’m Professor Clarke,’ said the woman. ‘Security rang me. Someone has broken into our system. You’re new aren’t you?’ She pinned on her ID. The photo did look like her face.

  ‘You’re the Professor of Engineering?’ The guard was surprised.

  ‘Yes.’

  Art made himself useful. He picked up her pen.

  ‘Thank you.’ When she smiled, her skinny face wrinkled up. Her dark eyes shone.

  Art wanted to get inside the terminal room.

  ‘Excuse me. Could I have a look inside?’ Art vainly tried to think of a reason. ‘…I want to do a school project on wind power.’

  The Professor turned and looked at him. ’How did you know we were doing wind experiments?’

  ‘I overheard the guard in the gallery.’

  ‘I wonder who else knows?’ said the Professor. ’Our security is terrible. What are you doing on campus today?’

  ‘Campus?’ Art didn’t understand the word.

  ‘Why are you on the university grounds today? You are very young for a university student.’ Her eyes looked as if they were teasing him.

  ‘It’s Tournament Day. I’m in the TOM team. We’re performing at lecture theatre 4 at

  3.45.’

  ‘Really?’ The professor was very interested. ‘My niece is in a team too.’

  ‘What’s her name?’ asked Art politely. There were hundreds of students in the tournament.

  ‘India.’

  Art groaned. Of all people he had to meet India’s aunty. Then he changed his mind. Perhaps she might be helpful and let him into the computer room? Perhaps she would help him solve the mystery?

  ‘How is India coping with her broken arm?’ asked the professor.

  ‘With her broken leg you mean?’ corrected Art.

  The professor smiled. Art realised he’d just passed a test. Now she knew, that he knew India.

  Knowing India was the key to the computer room. Professor Clarke invited him inside. The security guard followed.

  ‘Are you worried about a thief stealing something?’ Art looked at the electronic equipment. There were screens and banks of switches. Cables and wires snaked along the floor.

  The professor switched on. ’Yes. There’s a lot of money offered for new ideas. Stealing ideas is called industrial espionage.’ Art knew that espionage was just a big word for spying.

  ‘Is anything missing ,Professor?’ The guard looked around, unsure what he was looking for.’ Any hardware or software?’

  ‘Give me a few minutes to check.’ The professor inserted a stick from the chain around her neck.

  ‘What’s on your program?’

  ‘Secrets.’

  ‘What sort?’

  Art knew that a secret wasn’t a secret once you told someone. But he needed to know. How could he help find a computer thief if he didn’t know what the thief wanted?

  ‘About a new invention.’

  ‘What sort?’

  ‘A wind farm.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Art imagined a farm with rows of wind plants growing. He pictured wind plants blowing their petals. Then he laughed aloud. If Mario had been there, he would have made rude jokes.

  Smiling, India’s aunty read his mind. ‘I’d be more worried if the thief didn’t take anything.’

  ‘Why?’ Art was puzzled.

  ‘He might have left something instead.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A virus.’

  Art paid close attention. ‘Mario’s from our school. He’s in the other TOM team. He has a virus.’

  ‘In his computer? If so, it will destroy his programs.’

  ‘No. In his chest. He’s sneezing and coughing a lot.’

  The professor laughed. So did Art.

  In TOM rehearsals, they played around with words. Some words had more than one meaning. What if the thief got mixed up too? What if a word he overheard meant something else?

&nbs
p; ‘Is there a virus in this computer?’

  ‘I hope not.’ The professor was checking files.

  Art pictured a sneezing computer with a cold virus.

  ‘Some hackers are like computer vandals. If a hacker has written a corrupt message into this program, our work could be messed up.’

  ‘Where have you been? ‘

  By the time Art panted back to lecture theatre 4, a cross India was looking at her watch. ‘We’ve been moving to lecture theatre 1.’ Students were already moving into the lecture theatre.

  ‘I was talking to your aunty.’ Art felt his chest pounding. He tried to breathe slowly. He didn’t; want to use his puffer all the time.

  ‘Oh. Which one?’

  ‘The professor.’ Even India couldn’t have more than one aunty who was a professor! ‘She thinks a computer thief stole a disk from the terminal room.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it has a program on it.’

  ‘What program?’

  ‘For the new wind farm.’

  ‘Is that the same thief who stole the coin?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I want to find out.’

  ‘Only after our TOM presentation,’ said India firmly, looking very much like her aunty.

  ‘Have you fixed the sound effects player.’

  ‘I forgot the second torch.’

  ‘Got the blue wig?’

  ‘What time are we on?’

  Mrs. Tasker checked her watch. ‘In just over half an hour. Let’s go inside and watch the other teams. They’ve moved us t lecture theatre 1 because of problems with the lock on theatre 4.’

  ‘Are we allowed to do that? To watch? Isn’t it cheating?’

  ‘No.’ Mrs. Tasker smiled down at India.’ Only the spontaneous problem must be kept secret.’

  ‘Is it true that each team gets the same spontaneous problem?’

  ‘Yes. That’s why it must be kept secret.’

  ‘I wouldn’t tell anyway,’ said Mario.

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ approved Mrs. Tasker.

  ‘You’d be mad. The others would know. Then they’d do it better!’ said Mario.