by J S Landor
‘We’ll make a detective of you yet,’ said Jago. ‘M for myriad. It’s the largest number the Greeks had a name for. The man who made this invented his own system of numbers using myriads. Then he calculated how many grains of sand it would take to fill the universe. He was obsessed with the idea of infinity.’
Jack was on the edge of his seat. ‘So? Who is he?’
‘Who do you think? A and M. Can’t you guess?’
‘No!’
A storm cloud seemed to pass over Jago’s features and he appeared reluctant to say the name.
‘Jago, please!’
‘Very well. This was made by Archimedes, the greatest mathematician that ever was.’
Jack gaped at him. ‘But he lived centuries ago.’
‘Before the current era, yes.’
‘That’s impossible … I mean … it made my computer work. And the street lights!’
‘I dare say it did.’ Jago’s eyes narrowed. ‘Nevertheless, it isn’t modern magic. This tarnished piece of metal is an ancient mirror, or at least part of one. It’s also an instrument of death.’
***
A bluebottle fly buzzed noisily between them and landed on the carriage window. It crawled up the thick glass pane, pausing every so often to rub its legs together like a miser expecting money. Jago sat lost in thought, his face like thunder.
‘What do you mean?’ Jack was asking.
Jago looked at him blankly, as though he’d forgotten he was there. ‘Hmm?’
‘What kind of mirror? How can it be an instrument of death?’
Jago roused himself. ‘Archimedes wasn’t just a mathematician. He was a skilled engineer,’ he said. ‘He invented all kinds of weapons to fight the Romans – giant catapults to fire rocks, huge claws to lift ships from the water. But most famous of all were his burning mirrors. They were death rays, so powerful he could set a whole navy alight without even stirring from the battlements. And this is the centrepiece of one of them.’
As he spoke, Jago held the mirror at an angle, focussing the sun’s rays directly on the bluebottle. In less than a second there was a fizz and a crackle and the fly fell to the floor, its small roasted carcass reduced to cinders.
A strong smell of burning filled the carriage and an instant later there was an almighty bang, like a gun going off. They both leapt in astonishment. The train window had cracked. Long, jagged lines radiated outwards from the point where the fly had perished, creating a crazy paving effect that stretched past several rows of seats.
Jack clapped a hand to his mouth. Burning the library book had been bad enough, but this was vandalism on an altogether different scale. Jago had his palms upturned as if to say, ‘What happened there?’, and suddenly Jack couldn’t help it: his shoulders began to shake. Apparently, even a real, live magician, descended from a Magus no less, was capable of serious mistakes. Jack threw himself across the seat, hooting with laughter.
Jago ran his index finger over the place where the fly had been and pursed his lips. ‘This isn’t funny, you know.’
‘I know-ho-ho …’ Jack laughed even harder.
‘I meant to do that.’
‘You didn’t!’
‘I did.’
More peals of laughter erupted from Jack.
A reluctant smile twitched at the corner of Jago’s mouth and the thunderous mood that had settled over him seemed to lift. ‘All right, I admit it. That did take me by surprise. But you have to agree, it proves my point. This is deadly.’
Jack sat up at last, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. The laughter had cleared his head. ‘Yes, but that’s not the whole story. It isn’t just a – what did you call it? – a death ray. It can’t be. I stepped right inside the light and I wasn’t burned at all.’
Now it was Jago’s turn to look astonished.
‘It took me to the shipwreck,’ said Jack.
‘You saw the future?’
‘I didn’t just see it. I went there,’ said Jack. ‘And to the past. I met the ship’s engineer when he was a boy.’
‘How?’ Jago’s eyes shone with the same craving for knowledge as Jack’s had earlier.
‘I don’t know,’ said Jack honestly. ‘It just happens. It’s a bit like reading a book. One minute you see the words, the next you’re in it. Only this is real.’
A silence fell over them, then Jack spoke. ‘Archimedes was interested in infinity, you say. He must have made a light so fast and powerful it could cross the boundaries of time.’
‘The man was a genius, I’ll give him that. But I didn’t say he was a god,’ said Jago gruffly.
‘You never know. Maybe he was halfway Magus like you. Or … or …’ Jack trailed off. Alpha suddenly felt very close; he could sense him. He glanced out of the window and an idea flew into his head. What if the spirit of a Magus had been nearby when the mirror was created? Jago had said Alpha was as old as the hills. Maybe he’d been with Archimedes when he made the mirror?
‘Or what?’ said Jago.
‘Nothing.’ The idea seemed too fabulous for words. Yet he could feel a breeze tickling his neck, just like he had at the woods.
The train rattled over a set of points in the track and its rhythm changed. Disturbed by the vibration, a cascade of tiny glass pieces fell from the cracked window to the floor.
In the distance, an approaching train sounded its horn. Jago looked at the glass on the floor and stood up quickly, his face darkening again. ‘Get up,’ he barked. ‘Move!’
They hurried towards the interconnecting doors that led to the next carriage. The first door hissed shut behind them just as the oncoming train rocketed past. A muffled boom reverberated through the train and they staggered sideways. As Jago caught Jack, he wrapped his great coat about him. The door blasted open and a shower of glass rained over them.
From beneath the coat, Jack could hear the wind howling. He pulled back the folds of material to peek into the carriage. It looked as if a monster had been set loose. There was glass everywhere, the seats were ripped, a section of ceiling hung down and a gale roared in through the open window. He could smell the sea, almost taste its salty tang, and despite being scared, he felt elated.
Shouts of alarm came from the next carriage. The train lurched and its brakes screamed. Someone had pulled the emergency cord, bringing them to a halt alongside a school playground. Children stopped their lunchtime games to gaze at the blasted carriage, pointing and shouting in excitement.
‘Dunton!’ exclaimed Jack. Over the rooftops, he could just see the Ferris wheel turning. ‘We made it.’
‘Not quite.’ Jago raised an eyebrow. ‘The station’s a good mile down the line. Time to make ourselves scarce, I think.’ He handed Jack the mirror. ‘Now then. Be careful with that. Damn thing doesn’t just wreck trains. It destroys people too.’
Jack nodded. With a shiver, he watched Jago climb down to the track. What if the mirror was only capable of destruction? Suppose it had shown him a future he could do nothing about? What if …
He shut his eyes tight. Stop it, he thought. Believing he was on a wild goose chase to doom and disaster would only make that outcome more likely to happen.
He hastily packed the mirror away. Then he jumped down, crunching on the gravel next to the rails. One or two of the children who were clinging to the wire fence around the playground raised their hands to wave.
Jack waved back. He knew he had to press on, but for those few moments, as he scrambled up the embankment after Jago, he would have given anything to be on the other side of the fence with them.
Chapter 25
The doorbell of number 12 jangled furiously. When no one answered, there was a scuffling in the porch and the letterbox clanked open.
A pair of hazel eyes scoured the hall. Apart from the gentle ticking of a clock, the house was silent. The only sign of life was a small frog sit
ting at the bottom of the stairs. He puffed out his chest and chirruped hopefully.
The hazel eyes narrowed into a frown and the letterbox crashed down.
On the other side of the door, Charlie threw her schoolbag on the ground and kicked it in frustration. Jack was either out or, worse still, ignoring her. She scooped up a handful of gravel and hurled it at his window. ‘Oi! Are you up there?’
The blank pane of glass stared down at her like an unblinking eye.
‘Where are you then?’ she growled under her breath. She had to see him, to warn him about what had happened today. First there’d been Blunt and his creepy threats, then in afternoon registration their teacher had mentioned the burglary. The police were coming tomorrow to talk to everyone in assembly. Convinced the thief was a child, they were looking for witnesses. What if Blunt tried to pin the blame on Jack? When it came out he’d been to Osmaston Hall, it wouldn’t look good.
Charlie hoisted her bag on her shoulder and was about to head away when she heard a screeching sound in the back garden, followed by Nan’s angry voice, ‘Serves you right, you hooligan! What gives you the right to come in here and do that! There’s no use denying it – I saw you with my own eyes!’
There was no reply. Charlie assumed the trespasser must be lost for words. She crept around the side of the house and made her way across the lawn.
Nan’s voice came from behind a row of laurel bushes. ‘I wondered why they kept disappearing. I found one lot halfway down the road, completely mangled. You must have dropped them from a great height. That’s theft and vandalism, you know.’
Charlie brushed past a long border of catmint. In places the plants were flattened, where Odin had rolled in delirious enjoyment of their scent. The cat, however, was nowhere to be seen.
‘Well, it can’t go on. Those wind chimes are important. But then, you already know that. Don’t you?’
Again, no reply. But there was a strange clattering sound, like a stick being rubbed back and forth along iron railings.
‘It’s no good. You can’t get out. Not alive anyway.’
Charlie’s step quickened and as she rounded the laurel bushes, a long rasping cry filled the air, ‘Tsche, tsche, tsche.’
Unaware of Charlie’s presence, Nan crouched over a large wire box, a curious contraption consisting of three compartments. Perched in one of them, its wings spread wide in defiance, was an enormous magpie. When it saw Charlie, it lowered its head, rattling its beak along the bars of the cage, first one way, then the other. Another grating cry exploded from it, ‘Tsche, tsche, tsche.’
Nan turned her head. ‘Oh Charlie! You made me jump. No need to look so alarmed, dear. It’s only a trap.’
The magpie flew upwards, battering its wings against the wire roof.
Nan ignored it. ‘You see that perch on the top? It works like a trap door. When the bird settles there, it gives way under his weight.’
Charlie shook her head in bewilderment. ‘What are you going to do with him?’
‘I’m going to wring his neck,’ said Nan calmly.
‘But that’s horrible! Why?’
‘He keeps attacking my wind chimes.’
‘Magpies can’t help liking shiny things. Are they that special?’
‘Yes, they are!’ said Nan firmly, though she looked a little flustered. ‘And what’s more, he’ll kill off all the song thrushes next spring. Magpies are terrible thieves. They take the eggs and chicks from other birds’ nests. I’m not the only one who thinks they’re a pest. This is quite legal, you know.’
Charlie stared at the imprisoned bird. She hadn’t realised it was such a predator. Even so, it seemed to her that Nan wasn’t bothered so much about the fate of the song thrushes as the loss of her precious wind chimes.
The bird fluttered to the ground again, its black and white plumage stunning as a harlequin’s costume. Charlie was dazzled. Its long tail shimmered with emerald green and its bright eyes looked so intelligent she wondered how it had let itself be lured in.
Watching her closely, the magpie seemed to read her mind and stooped to peck at something. A string of glass beads lay in the grass at the bottom of the cage. They looked so cheap Charlie thought Nan must have found them in a Christmas cracker. But she could see why the magpie had been tempted. They sparkled with rainbow colours.
Nan had hastily pulled on some old gardening gloves. ‘Charlie dear, why don’t you go in and put the kettle on?’
Charlie didn’t move.
‘Right then. I suggest you look the other way.’ Nan unfastened a door at the side of the cage and reached in.
Charlie couldn’t take her eyes off the bird, which was beating its wings in desperation. Without thinking, she leant forwards and tugged at Nan’s sleeve. ‘Don’t, please. Stop!’
It all happened in a split second. Charlie hung so fiercely onto Nan’s arm she couldn’t move. The magpie saw its chance and bounded forwards, its white wing tips reaching like fingers for the sky.
‘No!’ screamed Nan, grabbing hopelessly at the air.
The magpie screeched back, climbing higher and higher until it was nothing but a black dot. And even then its cries could still be heard, like angry laughter. ‘Tsche, tsche, tsche …’
Just before it vanished, Charlie saw something glint like a distant star and her breath caught in her throat. She glanced down at the trap. The glass beads had gone.
***
Nan slumped against the garden wall, her fists clenched, her face grey. There was nothing she could do about it. The bird had given her the slip.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Charlie was saying over and over. ‘Really, really sorry.’
‘You shouldn’t have interfered.’ Nan wanted to curse out loud, but she bit her tongue. There was no point in making Charlie feel worse. She couldn’t expect her to know why the magpie’s invasion had been so serious.
The wind chimes had been much more than musical ornaments. Nan had fortified her house and garden with a collection of powerful charms. Dangling from the roof gables and various carefully chosen trees, they provided a ring of protection that kept her small corner of the world safe from any source of malevolence – or so she hoped.
Since the day the seagull had arrived the metal pipes hadn’t stopped jangling. Then she’d noticed that, one by one, they kept disappearing. The magpie had been dismantling them, breaking down her defences until she felt sick with worry.
‘Where’s Jack?’ she asked.
‘That’s what I want to know,’ said Charlie. ‘He hasn’t been in school all day. I thought maybe he was home …’
Nan gazed at Charlie’s bewildered face. She was grateful she was propped against the wall. Her legs had just turned to jelly.
***
The boot of the Beetle, unlike other cars, was at the front instead of the back. It bulged with belongings: jumpers, boots, sleeping bags, even a kettle and an old camping stove. Nan hadn’t known what to pack, so she was packing everything.
‘Please let me come with you,’ Charlie pleaded.
‘Out of the question,’ snapped Nan, heaping things on the back seat. ‘Here, put the torch in the glove box, will you?’
To Charlie’s surprise, Odin already lay stretched out on the parcel shelf. Nan never went away without him. She gave the cat a frown. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to have some company? I know you’ve got Odin but … it’s such a long way.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘I’m good at map reading.’
‘I know how to get there.’
‘But it’ll be dark –’
‘I’ve got headlights! Charlie, I’m familiar with the route. I’ve been to Wakeham before.’
At Charlie’s suggestion, they had checked the web history on Jack’s computer. After finding the Eastern Express timetable and his research on the lighthouse, it didn’t take a det
ective to guess where he’d gone. ‘You’ve been more than helpful,’ said Nan. ‘Jack doesn’t give much away. I’d no idea he was in such trouble.’
Charlie had told Nan all about Blunt and the bullying, Jack’s friendship with Jago Flyn and the burglary at Osmaston Hall. She’d held back only one piece of information, keeping her promise to Jack not to mention the mysterious disc to anyone.
‘He’s my friend! You have to let me go. You have to!’
‘Charlie Day, be sensible!’ Nan lobbed a tin of cat food into the car, narrowly missing Odin’s head. The cat yowled.
‘You’re angry because of the magpie,’ wailed Charlie.
‘It isn’t that at all! Look, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I certainly won’t be back tonight and you’ve got school tomorrow. Even if I agreed, your mum wouldn’t.’
‘But –’
‘I really haven’t got time to argue.’
And that was that. Ten minutes later Nan set off, the Beetle belching black smoke as it lurched down the drive.
Charlie stood amidst the exhaust fumes, grinding her foot in the gravel. It wasn’t fair. Jack was on an adventure, a dangerous one. What if he needed her? She couldn’t bear to be left out.
A trail of oily wet spots glistened on the drive. She kicked the gravel, spraying stones in all directions. Stupid wreck of a car. About time Nan traded it in.
Chapter 26
The boats in the little harbour lay sideways in the mud, ropes and rigging clattering against masts in the wind. The sound, usually so cheerful in summer, had a hollow ring to it, making the tiny seaside village seem even more deserted than it really was.
Jack sat glumly on the quayside dangling his legs over the wall. Plaice to Eat, Wakeham’s fish and chip shop, had a closed sign on the door and the pavement outside the grocer’s was empty. Gone were the fishing nets and crab-baiting lines, the water pistols and brightly coloured windmills that spun in the breeze. Apart from a woman pushing a pram and a man painting the upside-down hull of a boat in his garden, no one was about.
He stared at the mudflats in the harbour and watched a crab scuttle out from beneath a pile of seaweed. He and Jago had hiked nearly seven miles across The Spike peninsula, dropping down the coastal path just as the sun had begun to fade. He’d rushed ahead, so excited to see the red and white tower of the Pentland lighthouse standing on its throne of rock beyond the headland. All they had to do was hop on a boat and they’d be there.
