by Dan Lee
‘That’s my dad – and that’s the new gym we’ve just had installed in the basement of our house. Bet you wish your family could afford something like that!’
‘Looks like it cost a lot,’ said Matt.
‘Oh, you bet. But that’s just small change to my dad – he’s a big player in the diamond trade.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Oh yeah. All the top people wear my dad’s diamonds. There’s a huge party going on tomorrow night, to celebrate the British film industry – it’ll be packed with stars and most of them will be wearing Bates’s diamonds.’
Matt’s detective instincts kicked in. ‘Where is it?’ he asked casually.
‘You needn’t worry about that, James! It’s not the sort of do they’d let you into.’
‘I just wondered, I don’t want to go –’
‘That’s good, ’cause you wouldn’t get in!’
Matt realized he wouldn’t get any more out of Adam. Anyway, the Tangshan Tigers could find out for themselves. He turned away and struck up a conversation with Saeed about martial arts films. But his mind was buzzing. This could be just the lead the Tangshan Tigers needed.
After dinner, the Tangshan Tigers met up in the room Matt and Shawn were sharing. Matt told them what he’d learned from Adam.
‘It’s exactly the sort of venue where the Scorpion might strike! We just need to find out where it is – but I guess the library will be locked up now, so we won’t be able to use the computers.’
‘No problem,’ Shawn took out his Blackberry. ‘Party to celebrate British movies, right?’ His fingers flew over the keypad. ‘Here we are – Frobisher House in Chelsea – starts at seven thirty.’
‘We should go there straight after the tournament then!’ said Matt.
It was going to be a busy day tomorrow. A martial arts tournament in the afternoon. And Scorpion-hunting in the evening. Matt couldn’t wait.
Chapter 7
THE TOURNAMENT
Spectators were sitting on two sides of the combat arena. Matt recognized his mother and Mr Figgis sitting in the front row. His mother smiled and waved.
Most spectators were Kensington students, but the crowd gave a generous cheer as the Beijing squad took their places. There was another, louder cheer as Adam led out the Kensington team. The two teams were placed on opposite sides of the arena. Adam stared across at Matt. Matt met his gaze unblinkingly. There’s no way you’re going to psyche me out, he thought.
That morning, Chang had gone through the team sheet with Matt and asked him to choose the order in which the Beijing competitors should fight. Matt had asked to be matched against Adam. It was a risk, but if he didn’t take this chance to face his demons, he might never get another.
Chang had inclined his head. ‘Yes. It is right that, as captain, you take on the hardest task for yourself.’
Very soon, Matt would know the outcome.
Before the tournament proper began, though, there was the exhibition match between Chang Sifu and Kawada-san. Matt led the applause of his team as the two martial arts masters met on the tatami and bowed.
The bout began with Chang going on the attack, demonstrating the techniques of kung fu – high kicks, whirling kicks, sweep kicks, spear-hand strikes from a distance and close-range, dazzling combinations of kicks and punches. Kawada-san blocked, evaded, countered. Matt held his breath; the skill of both men was dazzling. The speed of the moves was incredible. There was a slight difference in their styles: Kawada-san seemed more explosive, while Chang seemed to move with a more fluid grace. In terms of skill, though, there was little to choose between them.
Chang had the edge in the first part of the bout. But after that they moved on to an exhibition of ju-jitsu skills. Kawada-san threw Chang repeatedly; and got him in holds, which Chang would wriggle out of, only to get held again. It was only an exhibition bout, Matt told himself – Chang was graciously letting Kawada-san demonstrate his techniques. Yet it made Matt uneasy. Kawada-san was hot stuff and Chang clearly respected him.
‘Whoa!’ said Shawn. ‘They know how to do it, those two! Wonder if we’ll ever fight as well as that?’
‘Maybe,’ said Matt. ‘One day.’
‘He’s good, Kawada-san,’ said Olivier. ‘As good as Chang.’
‘Well, almost.’ said Catarina.
‘And that probably means his team are pretty hot too,’ said Shawn.
‘They’re going to be the toughest opponents we’ve ever faced,’ said Matt seriously.
The exhibition bout ended and the two masters bowed to each other. The crowd applauded.
It was time for the tournament to begin.
Five–two. To Kensington.
The bouts had contained a few surprises. Andrei and Jahmal (whom Matt hadn’t regarded as his strongest fighters) both won for Beijing. Abdul had lost to Harry Vincent-Bennett. Lola and Paolo had also lost. So had Olivier – he’d fought heroically against Saeed, a ju-jitsu exponent, who’d drawn him into a close-quarters fight, which wasn’t his style. Use of the Chi Sao technique had kept him in it and he’d avoided being caught in a hold – but the judges gave it on points to Kensington.
Matt had matched Carl against Shushmita, reasoning that Carl would use his karate skills best against another karateka. With Carl’s advantage in weight and reach he’d expected him to win – but Shushmita was very quick and got under Carl’s guard to strike repeatedly and win on points.
‘Bad luck,’ Matt said to Carl after the bout – rather cautiously, hoping that Carl wouldn’t explode in a temper. To his surprise, Carl took defeat well. He gave a crooked smile.
‘It happens,’ he said. ‘She’s good.’
Over halfway through, and three down. The Beijing team had it all to do.
‘We can still do it,’ Matt told his team. ‘If we win the rest…’
‘Course we’ll do it!’ said Catarina.
‘It’s up to you, Wolfgang,’ said Matt. ‘You can even the score here.’
‘Ja,’ said Wolfgang. He moistened his lips nervously.
‘Remember Chi Sao,’ said Chang quietly.
Wolfgang’s opponent was a ju-jitsu specialist. He went straight for Wolfgang and very nearly threw him in the first minute – but Wolfgang remembered the counter-move Matt had used yesterday, to roll with the throw and then shift balance at the last moment. His opponent hit the mat, but managed to pull Wolfgang with him. It wasn’t a pretty fight – a lot of tussling and wriggling on the floor. But finally Wolfgang got the Kensington fighter in a choke-hold from which he couldn’t free himself, and at last submitted. The judges awarded the bout to Wolfgang.
Five–three.
It was Matt’s turn.
Time seemed to slow down as he walked out to the centre. The crowd were shouting and cheering, but he was hardly aware of the noise. He breathed deeply, willing himself to relax – you couldn’t fight at your best if you felt tense, he knew.
Adam’s chin tilted upwards aggressively; he stared at Matt through heavy-lidded eyes.
‘I’m going to squash you like a bug, James. Just like I used to do in the playground.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ said Matt quietly. He bowed.
The fight began.
Keep him at a distance, Matt said to himself. He knew he had the weapons to score points off Adam and win, as long as Adam didn’t draw him into a close-range fight.
He concentrated on the centre line technique, getting his balance right and starting off with two great punches with his full weight behind them. Adam blocked with his hands, but was taken aback by the speed and power of Matt’s attack. He was retreating before Matt’s onslaught.
Matt got in a high thrusting kick that caught Adam in the chest and made him give ground still further.
The Beijing team roared their support.
I can do this, thought Matt. I’ve got him!
He pressed forward with a combination of punches – but Adam evaded them, plunged in and grabbed Matt by the wais
t. The next instant Matt found himself lifted clear off the ground. He felt Adam’s thick strong arms squeezing him – he could hardly breathe.
Now it was the turn of the Kensington supporters to roar.
Matt struggled, but his feet couldn’t find the floor, he had nothing to push against.
Adam slammed Matt down on the floor and fell on top, trying to pin him down. One of his hands pressed Matt’s arm to the floor. Matt could still barely breathe, and his wrist-bone hurt where Adam was forcing it down. But worse than the pain was the thought that he could lose this – the advantage gained by his early kick must be cancelled out now.
If Adam pinned the other arm, the hold would be complete.
Defeat stared Matt in the face.
Remember Chi Sao…
Conscious of Adam’s heavy body lying across his, Matt felt what was happening. Before Adam could grab his other hand to complete the pin, Matt had moved it. As Adam shifted his weight to try and restrict the movement of Matt’s free arm, Matt instinctively rolled his weight in the opposite direction.
For a split second he was free of Adam’s crushing weight. Before Adam could adjust, Matt made an explosive effort and wriggled free. He felt Adam clutch at his arm, but too late. Matt bounced to his feet. Yes! he thought. I’m free!
The roars of the Beijing supporters rang in his ears.
Adam’s face distorted with rage. He rushed at Matt, his head low, trying to repeat the manoeuvre of lifting Matt up by the waist.
But Matt was ready for that now. He checked Adam’s rush with a double-handed block and threw a short straight punch right through the centre line, which hit Adam in the midriff. Choking for breath, Adam backed off.
But Adam was strong. He recovered from the blow fast. He circled Matt warily, looking for another chance to get in close.
Another rush – again, Matt blocked and counter-attacked, scoring with another strike to the body.
The buzzer went for the end of the bout.
The two fighters stood panting, waiting for the verdict.
Have I done enough to win? Matt wondered.
The judges consulted briefly.
‘The winner is… Matt James!’ announced the head judge.
A wave of relief flooded through Matt. The Beijing team went wild. There was applause from some of the Kensington side too.
‘What?’ shouted Adam. ‘No way! I had him down; it’s not fair, I pinned him!’
An embarrassed silence filled the auditorium. Harry Vincent-Bennett came forward and said quietly: ‘Leave it, Adam. You have to accept the judges’ decision; don’t show the team up.’
‘But I should have won!’
Kawada-san walked on to the tatami. He touched Adam on the shoulder. ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘You were fairly beaten.’
‘What? I had him down, it’s not fair!’
‘The hold was not good,’ said Kawada-san. ‘If you cannot accept defeat with dignity, you are not fit to be captain.’
As Adam stomped back to his place, Matt saw tears glistening in his eyes.
‘That was fantastic, Matt!’ said Olivier, clapping him on the back.
‘It’s still four–five to them, though,’ said Matt. ‘We have to win the next two! Shawn – are you up for it?’
Shawn grinned. ‘You know I am!’
Shawn’s opponent was a ju-jitsu specialist. They grappled furiously, striving for advantage. After a long tense struggle, Shawn’s opponent got him in a choke-hold – but before he could tighten the hold, Shawn wriggled free, twisted his opponent round and applied an armlock. He forced the Kensington fighter to the mat and held on.
The buzzer went.
Five–five!
The noise was indescribable now.
‘Go, Catarina!’ said Matt.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Catarina.
Catarina’s opponent was another judo exponent. He followed the usual Kensington technique of trying to get in close and grapple and take her down – but Catarina simply didn’t let him. She danced just out of reach, launching kicks at head-level, picking him off with long-range blows. It was like watching a graceful matador against a charging bull. Matt’s voice was hoarse with cheering. The Kensington fighter tried gamely until the very end, but he never broke through Catarina’s defence.
The buzzer went for the final time.
Six–five to Beijing!
Chang Sifu was on his feet, clapping. So were Matt’s mum and Mr Figgis.
And so was Kawada-san.
Matt grinned at his tired but triumphant team. ‘Well done, you guys! We’ve broken Kensington’s winning streak!’
And I beat Adam Bates, he thought to himself.
‘Yeah, well done,’ said Harry, coming over to congratulate them. ‘Well done, Matt.’
‘Thanks,’ said Matt. ‘It was close! You’re taking it pretty well.’
‘Not much else I can do, is there?’ said Harry, smiling resignedly. ‘Anyway, there’s some consolation – Kawada-san just told me he’s making me the new captain! Hey, listen, have you heard about the outing tonight? Don’t know where we’re going – Kawada-san says it’s a surprise; are you coming?’
‘Er, dunno,’ said Matt. Chang Sifu had not mentioned any outing to him. ‘Maybe, if it’s a bit later on. There’s something we’ve got to do first.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Harry.
Matt glanced at the other Tangshan Tigers. ‘Oh, there’s this party we thought we’d drop into.’
Chapter 8
LEAP IN THE DARK
They slipped out of a side-door. It was nearly dark, the street-lights a hazy yellow, the moon a silver crescent against the sky’s deep velvety blue. As they walked away from the Academy Matt glanced back and thought he saw the silhouette of someone standing at the window. Was that Chang Sifu? The figure gave a nod of approval.
‘This way,’ said Matt, leading the Tigers down the street.
‘You memorized the route from the map, did you?’ asked Shawn.
‘No need – I used to live in London, remember?’
Matt led them quickly through a succession of streets and squares and along Chelsea Embankment. Lights twinkled in the dark water of the Thames. Chelsea Bridge was lit up like a fairground ride.
‘It’s this way,’ said Matt. They crossed the road, dodging taxis, and found themselves in a square of stately white mansions. Frobisher House was the largest and grandest. Bright lights shone from the windows; two uniformed doormen in top hats stood outside and limousines were parked bumper to bumper.
‘Now we’ve just got to get in,’ said Matt. ‘Olivier – any ideas?’
‘I’ll see if I can blag us in.’ Olivier could usually charm his way through any situation. He went up the steps and approached the doormen.
‘Excuse me,’ he began – but that was as far as he got.
There was a crash. Shouts, screams, gasps of terror. Fragments of glass showered on to the pavement, making the Tigers jump back.
‘Hey, what was that?’ shouted Catarina.
The masked, black-clad figure of the Scorpion had smashed through an upper-storey window and landed in the branches of a plane tree. A diamond necklace glittered in his hand. As Matt watched, he thrust the necklace into a backpack, then swarmed down the tree, hit the ground running and was off down a side road.
‘Let’s go!’ said Matt. The Scorpion was fast and agile – but he wasn’t going to be a match for four Tangshan Tigers!
They pelted round the corner and stopped in bewilderment. An empty road stretched ahead.
‘But how –’ said Matt.
‘Look!’ said Catarina.
The Scorpion was halfway up the wall of a house. He was climbing fast, making use of drainpipes, window sills and projecting masonry.
‘So that’s how he does it,’ said Shawn. ‘That’s why no one ever sees where he goes!’
‘It’s called le parkour,’ said Olivier. ‘An extreme urban climbing sport – I’ve seen it done
in Paris. And this guy’s good.’
‘So what do we do?’ asked Shawn. ‘Call the cops?’
‘Unless Catarina’s got a better idea…’ said Matt.
‘Aye aye, Captain!’ said Catarina. She launched herself at the wall, grabbed a drainpipe and shot up it like a squirrel.
High above, the Scorpion was hauling himself up on to the roof. He disappeared from sight. Matt held his breath as Catarina followed. He hoped the Scorpion hadn’t seen her – if he had, it would be easy to push her off as she clambered on to the roof.
But Catarina reached the top, looked down and gave a thumbs-up. She pointed in the direction the Scorpion had gone; then she disappeared from view.
‘Come on!’ said Matt. They sprinted in the direction Catarina had indicated. As they came into the next street Matt saw the Scorpion, like a black bat against the dark blue sky. He jumped across a gap from one roof to another.
Matt’s guts tingled. The gap was no more than two metres, but the drop was more like twenty. If Catarina miscalculated…
Her long agile figure flew across the gap and landed safely. Matt breathed again.
Once more, Catarina pointed in the direction she was going.
‘She can’t call down to us,’ Matt whispered to the others. ‘Otherwise the Scorpion will hear. We’ll have to keep up and watch what she does!’
They pounded down the next street. Matt saw the Scorpion jump and land with a roll on to a lower flat roof. From where they were they could see him clearly. He stood, looking around, perhaps he was planning his next jump – or perhaps he had heard Catarina’s footsteps behind him? Catarina had not yet come into view.
