The Stolen Jade

by Dan Lee

‘Find space on mat, please. You need two clear steps in front of you, two clear steps behind. Today we do training exercise, designed to improve speed and stamina. It is adapted from a basic kata. Kata is a sequence of movements in karate, to be performed without partner –’

  ‘I know what a kata is, thanks!’ said Carl. ‘I’ve been doing them since I was four.’

  ‘Then perhaps you will find this exercise easy,’ said Chang. ‘Let us see. Please watch and listen, everybody.’ He proceeded to perform each movement as he talked his way through the sequence. ‘Step forward to left. Lunge punch with left hand, like so. Aim to make contact with imaginary opponent. Now step back to original position. Step forward to right. Lunge punch with right hand. Step back to original position. Step back with left foot. Kick with right, like so. Step forward to original position. Step back with right foot. Kick with left. Step back to original position. Sequence is ended and ready to repeat. This is all clear?’

  Matt and his friends nodded.

  ‘Then perform sequence ten times.’ Chang clapped his hands.

  Matt began the sequence, slowly at first, building speed as he got used to the movements. Chang went around, correcting students where necessary. Carl was the first to finish. Chang was busy with another student as Carl completed the last step, but their master called out without even turning round, ‘Ten more, Carl!’

  Matt reached the end of his ten and again, without even looking, Chang called out, ‘Ten more, Matt!’

  It was uncanny. Master Chang seemed to have such a good sense of how fast everyone was working that without needing to look he knew when each student was on the tenth repetition. ‘Ten more, Catarina!’ ‘Ten more, Shawn!’ ‘Ten more, Lola!’ ‘Ten more, Olivier!’ ‘Ten more, Wolfgang!’

  By the end of his second ten, Matt was breathing hard, but enjoying himself. The sequence felt instinctive and he was putting everything into it. By the end of the fourth ten he was beginning to tire. His muscles were aching and he was slowing down. By the end of the sixth he was seriously tired. His muscles were trembling and his breathing laboured. He had to work harder to concentrate on the steps of the sequence. By the end of the eighth he was ready to drop.

  ‘Ten more, Matt!’

  Matt groaned inwardly, but began the sequence again. He wasn’t the only one who was exhausted. Looking around he saw Olivier panting for breath, Shawn grimacing in pain. Catarina’s long hair flopped over her face and she was too tired to push it away. Carl, who had started faster than any of them, was performing the moves in slow motion now.

  ‘Ten more, Carl!’

  Carl stopped abruptly. He stood with his arms dangling at his sides, red-faced and sweaty, panting for breath. ‘Look, I must have done this a hundred times –’

  ‘This is the last ten.’

  Sullenly, Carl started again. But at the end of the last repetition, Chang sang out, ‘Ten more, Carl!’

  ‘What?’ said Carl angrily. ‘But you said –’

  ‘It is the unexpected effort that is hardest to make,’ said Chang.

  ‘This is a joke!’ shouted Carl. ‘I can’t do any more!’

  He stormed out of the kwoon. As he ran past, Matt saw there were tears in his eyes.

  ‘I will speak to Carl later,’ said Chang. ‘He will learn in his own time. And now,’ he clapped his hands. ‘Ten more, everybody!’

  When the session finally came to an end, Matt flopped to the floor. So did the others. Matt saw Olivier lying about a metre away.

  ‘Are we still alive?’ he croaked.

  ‘I think so,’ said Olivier. ‘But only just.’

  ‘I pushed you hard today,’ said Master Chang. ‘But there is a reason. I need to see how much you want to win; I need to see if spirit is stronger than body. In combat you may be tired like today, ready to give in. If you give in, fight is lost. But maybe opponent is as tired as you; if you continue, you can win. Technique alone will not serve against opponent who also has good technique. You need spirit. I can teach you technique. I cannot teach you spirit. But today? I teach you need for spirit.’

  Chapter 3

  MEMORY GAMES

  ‘I have an announcement to make,’ said Mr Wu in Assembly the next morning. ‘Your trip to the Palace Museum is postponed until further notice.’

  A mutter of disappointment rippled through the hall.

  ‘The Palace Museum informs me there has been a break-in,’ said Mr Wu. ‘Thieves disabled the security system, entered the museum at night and stole some items. Nothing of extraordinary value, thank goodness. The thieves do not seem to have had a clear idea of what they were looking for. They stole only a collection of old copper coins, practically worthless, and –’ Mr Wu’s mouth appeared to twitch for a moment as if suppressing a smile – ‘some postcards from the museum shop. The museum will be closed to the public while an investigation is carried out.’

  Matt noticed that Shawn, who was standing next to him, looked stunned. Was he upset that the trip had been postponed? It was disappointing, of course – but Shawn looked really put out.

  ‘You OK, Shawn?’

  ‘I – yeah, I’m fine,’ he mumbled unconvincingly.

  Matt didn’t have a chance to question Shawn further until the morning’s lessons were over. At break, Matt and his friends went to the canteen for a snack.

  ‘What’s up, Shawn?’ asked Matt. ‘You look like you’ve had a shock.’

  Shawn looked down at the table. ‘Know who designed that security system in the museum?’

  ‘No – who?’

  ‘My father, that’s who.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Matt. ‘Right.’

  ‘Maybe – there was some sort of glitch,’ said Johnny. ‘It happens.’

  ‘Happens all the time,’ said Olivier.

  Shawn shook his head. ‘Not with my dad’s systems. He knows what he’s doing. That system was the best in the world – my dad told me!’

  ‘Then how did the thieves get in?’ said Catarina.

  ‘There’s only one explanation. They must have planned this carefully; they must have been computer experts – they’d have to be geniuses to get past that system –’

  ‘Yeah, that must be it,’ said Matt, trying his best to cheer Shawn up.

  A raucous laugh broke out nearby. It was Carl, with Miles and Roger tagging along.

  ‘Did I hear that right? Your dad built the burglar alarm?’

  ‘It isn’t a burglar alarm, it is a state-of-the-art security system –’

  ‘So state-of-the-art that a bunch of clueless bozos walked straight through it?’

  ‘They weren’t clueless!’

  ‘That’s what it says here,’ said Carl, and held up a copy of the English-language newspaper, The Beijing Times. CLUELESS THIEVES STEAL COINS AND CARDS, the headline announced.

  ‘I reckon the Palace Museum might be asking your dad for their money back!’ said Carl, and walked off laughing with Miles and Roger in tow.

  ‘Ignore them,’ said Matt. ‘They’re just idiots.’ He laid his hand on Shawn’s shoulder.

  Shawn shook his head. ‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘Just forget it!’

  ∗

  The thing about Master Chang’s training sessions was that you never knew what to expect. Matt arrived at the next day’s session prepared for another gruelling workout. But Chang surprised him, and everyone else, by calmly announcing that they were going for a walk.

  ‘A walk!’ said Carl. ‘Er – why?’

  Master Chang didn’t answer this. ‘Change out of martial arts suits, please. You will not need them. For this expedition, civilian dress is required.’

  The walk led them out of the Academy and to a bustling local market in Jade Moon Street.

  ‘Follow me,’ said Chang. ‘And keep your eyes open.’

  Matt had always thought London was a busy city. But, compared to Beijing, London was only half full. Here, there were crowds of people queuing at the market stalls, queuing to get into bars and restaurants, and even q
ueuing up to cross the road. Through the crowds, hordes of cyclists made their way, ringing their bells and shouting at people who didn’t move aside quickly enough.

  There were stalls selling fruit, stalls selling flowers, stalls selling noodles and mobile phones and MP3 players. Matt had always had a keen eye for detail and as he walked through the milling crowds he clocked image after image, storing them away in his memory. An old man with an eye-patch. A party of American tourists taking photos, led by a man in loud check trousers. A group of tall Chinese teenagers in tracksuits. A wizened old lady at a stall selling trainers. A little boy eating a peach with the juice dribbling down his chin…

  At last, Master Chang led them into a quiet side street. Here they rested beneath the shade of a tree.

  ‘Let us see how wide open you kept your eyes. Near start of market, there was a stall with young flower-girl. What colour sash did she wear?’

  ‘Orange,’ said Matt.

  Chang nodded. The others looked at Matt in surprise.

  ‘Olivier – man walking dog nearly bumped into you. Was he holding leash in left hand or right hand?’

  ‘Left, I think – no, right?’

  Chang looked at Matt.

  ‘It was the left hand,’ said Matt. ‘The man was wearing a T-shirt with a picture of Bill Gates on it. The dog was a big white fluffy one.’

  ‘A chow, that is correct. Did anyone see youth basketball team?’

  ‘I did,’ volunteered Olivier. ‘Bunch of tall guys in tracksuits.’

  ‘There were seven of them,’ added Matt. ‘The tracksuits were blue with a white stripe down the sleeve.’

  ‘You have sharp eyes, Matt,’ said Chang.

  ‘Oh, well, I… I just notice things, that’s all,’ said Matt, embarrassed to be praised in front of the others.

  ‘I noticed things too!’ protested Carl. ‘You’re just not asking me about them.’

  ‘Then what did you notice, Carl?’

  ‘Er – a lot of people on bikes.’

  There were a few grins at this. Chang did not smile, but gravely said, ‘Yes, there were bikes. Now, one of the last stalls we passed was fruit stall with line of apples on display along front. How many apples?’

  Matt knew the answer to this one too. Twelve. But he saw that Shawn was about to speak, and kept quiet. Shawn had had to put up with a lot of jokes since the news about his father had got out, and getting a question right might cheer him up.

  ‘There were twelve,’ said Shawn.

  ‘A good answer,’ said Chang. He turned to Catarina. ‘Is he right?’

  To Matt’s surprise, Catarina appeared flustered. It was the first time he’d seen her at a loss for words. ‘He… he’s sort of right,’ she said, after an awkward pause. ‘And he’s sort of not.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Because – because the twelfth one is here,’ said Catarina, and produced an apple from her pocket.

  How on earth had Chang managed to spot that? Matt wondered. Matt hadn’t seen Catarina take the apple himself – and Chang had been in front of them.

  ‘I am not really a thief,’ said Catarina. ‘I mean, not a proper one. It is just… I do this sometimes. For a laugh, you know? For a joke…’

  Her voice trailed away. Chang raised his eyebrows.

  ‘OK, OK, I will take it back!’

  Catarina ran back to the stall to return the apple.

  ‘The walk is ended,’ said Chang. ‘Let us go.’

  They walked back through the market, picking up Catarina again on the way. Shawn fell into step with Matt. ‘Hey, man, I’m impressed. You’ve got a photographic memory!’

  ‘Like I said, I just tend to notice things.’

  ‘The whole thing’s stupid!’ said Carl loudly. ‘This isn’t martial arts training, it’s just a waste of time!’

  He said this loud enough for Chang to hear, but Chang did not respond. Carl refused to give up. ‘Come on, sir, tell us – what’s the point of all these games? How’s it gonna help us win the tournament?’

  ‘You will learn in time,’ Chang said.

  ‘If you tell me now I’ll learn right away!’

  ‘If I tell you now, it will mean little to you. True understanding comes only when you learn for yourself.’

  Carl lapsed into a sulky silence. Matt thought about Master Chang’s words. Though he couldn’t work out Chang’s methods any more than Carl could, he felt sure that in time he would understand. There was something mesmerizing about Chang, something in his quiet calm and assurance that convinced Matt he had good reasons for everything he did. It was hard to see how, but somehow Matt trusted that Chang’s methods would help them beat the Shanghai Academy.

  There were only six weeks to go before the tournament.

  Matt couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 4

  FIELD TRIP

  ‘Hold your partner firmly in armlock,’ said Master Chang. ‘Now, partner, you have one hand free. Strike to body, once, twice – not full force, we do not want broken ribs – and pull away!’

  Matt, who was being armlocked by Olivier, dealt him two blows to the side and pulled his other arm away swiftly. Olivier’s hold slackened and Matt was free. Today Chang was teaching them some ju-jitsu holds often used by the Shanghai team, and how to counter them.

  It was four weeks into the term now and Matt had developed a great respect for Chang’s training methods. He looked forward to the sessions more than anything. You never knew what to expect. Sometimes there were strange, interesting activities that it was hard to see the point of at first, but which always made you think. Sometimes there was fitness work. Then sometimes, like today, Chang would drill them on the real nitty-gritty of fighting techniques – and even Carl had to admit that here Chang Sifu knew his stuff. Today’s session had left them all gasping for breath.

  Chang clapped his hands. ‘Remember,’ he said, ‘if you find yourself in such a hold, strike fast and hard and try to pull free at the same time – opponent reacting to blow is not concentrating on hold. Wait only one second and the hold tightens again.’ He paused. ‘You have worked hard today. Relax. Sit.’

  Matt and the others sat down on the tatami. Matt sat near Olivier, Shawn and Catarina. The four of them had become close friends and always hung out together. Johnny sometimes hung out with them too, but he spent a lot of time working hard in the library and when he wasn’t doing that he was usually to be found shooting hoops with his basketball team-mates. It was a pity that Johnny wasn’t free to join them more often, but Matt was tolerant of his friend’s eccentric preference for basketball; after all, not everyone could be a martial arts fanatic.

  It was a relief to rest after such a hard workout. The kwoon was cool, air-conditioned. The walls were white with high, tinted windows through which Matt could see the skyscrapers of Beijing. Chang sat facing his squad, legs crossed, back straight.

  ‘So,’ said Chang. ‘Let us talk.’

  ‘What about?’ said Carl.

  ‘What you wish. You may ask me questions.’

  ‘Tell us about the Shanghai Academy team, sir,’ said Shawn. ‘What are they like?’

  ‘They are well trained. They are highly competitive. They have been known to use rough tactics.’

  ‘How do you mean, rough tactics?’ asked Matt, concerned. He wasn’t scared, but he hated unfairness.

  ‘Illegal blows. Do not worry. With defences you have practised you can protect yourselves. Above all, do not be tempted to reply in kind. You must fight honourably, within rules.’

  ‘But how come they don’t get disqualified?’ asked Matt.

  ‘They are cunning, striking when the judges’ view is blocked. But they do not rely entirely on illegal blows. They are a highly trained, formidable team, capable of winning fairly too.’

  ‘But we can beat them, right?’ That was Shawn.

  ‘It is possible. You have one advantage.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Matt.

  ‘Shanghai team trainer, Sens
ei Johnson, rules by fear. His team are highly motivated – but very afraid to lose. It is not good to be motivated by fear.’

  ‘What’s he like, this Sensei Johnson?’ asked Carl. ‘What’s his martial art speciality?’

  ‘He is a karateka. An American, now retired from competitive fights. In his day, he might have been considered expert in certain techniques.’

  ‘He’s not as good as you though, is he, sir?’ said Shawn.

  Chang smiled. ‘I am an old man, now.’

  ‘Tell us about some of your fights,’ said Matt. ‘You were the best, weren’t you?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Chang unexpectedly. ‘The best fighter I ever witnessed was my grandfather.’

  ‘Your grandfather?’ prompted Catarina.

  ‘Oh yes. I learned much from him. Though not all he had to teach. He was a famous kung fu fighter, known throughout China. He was leader of elite fighting team – the Tangshan Tigers!’

  The name caused a twinge of excitement in Matt. The Tangshan Tigers. He had a vision of a team of crack fighters – dedicated, proud, invincible.

  ‘Great,’ muttered Carl. ‘Family history – that’s all we need.’

  Chang suddenly directed a look like a laser beam at Carl. ‘You are speaking of my ancestor, Carl. You will please to show respect.’

  Carl flushed, and looked down at the mat. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.

  Matt knew by now that Chang would never rule his team by fear. But he could certainly be scary when he wanted to make his point.

  The next morning, Mr Figgis came into the history class with a broad smile on his face.

  ‘I have some excellent news for you, boys and girls. The Forbidden City Palace Museum has now reopened. We’ll be making our trip tomorrow and we’ll spend the whole day there.’

  ‘Yes!’ said Matt. There was clapping and whooping all around the class. A day off school, missing maths, English and double science, was something to celebrate.