Jake cast his eyes around the roof. On either side rose up the foundation stones of the cathedral’s two unfinished spires. Perched between them, reaching up into the dark heavens, was the colossal wooden crane, constructed from a million criss-crossing timbers. Jake started to scan it from top to bottom.
‘Good gracious me!’ gasped Alan as he emerged onto the roof. The sheer drama of the landscape, along with the wind and the tolling bells, took his breath away.
But Jake’s eyes were darting across every inch of the crane. ‘There! There!’ he suddenly yelled hysterically as Miriam and Paolo heaved themselves onto the roof.
For there, halfway up the crane, he’d caught sight of the tiniest glint of gold. If anything, the eclipse had helped to pick it out, for it was almost the last of the sun’s swiftly vanishing rays that struck Zeldt’s golden bomb.
Alan pulled open his telescope and inspected the glimmer. Jake was right: the bomb was sitting there, balanced on a wooden girder.
Jake was already clambering up the crane, feet and hands moving at double time. The wind gusted around him, the terrifying vortex of space yawned below. Just as the moon consumed the last feeble ray of sun and plunged them into blackness – and at this moment there was a howl from the people below – Jake reached out and took hold of the bomb. With a sharp whoosh, a pale shape suddenly emerged out of the gloom, flying towards him. It was the owl from the bell tower, hooting with fear and confusion. It thumped into Jake, he lost his balance and the bomb slipped from his grasp.
Miriam was the closest. She lunged towards the falling golden clock and caught it, then plunged over the edge of the parapet.
‘Miriam!’ Alan swung round, expecting to be met by the horrific sight of his wife falling to her death. His face told a different story. ‘Miriam …?’ he repeated softly.
His wife had landed sprawling on top of one of the huge gargoyles – a satanic beast, half lion, half bat, with a snarling mouth and outstretched wings.
‘My – my guardian angel,’ Miriam stammered with a half-delirious smile.
‘I’m coming to get you,’ Alan cried as he started to lower himself over the edge.
‘Bomb first – we need to defuse it,’ gasped Miriam. Breathlessly, she examined the golden device. ‘But how?’
‘Mum,’ Jake shouted down as he descended the scaffold, ‘inside, there’s a glass vial between two golden fists. Can you see it?’
Miriam scrutinized the inner workings. The light was so dim she could barely make it out. ‘I think so.’
‘You need to reach inside and remove it,’ Jake commanded.
Miriam probed with slender fingers. ‘I can justify that manicure now!’ she joked – then saw that the clock was seconds away from alignment. ‘Ow!’ she cried, quickly withdrawing her hand. ‘It gave me a shock.’
‘Careful, my darling – careful!’ Alan urged her.
‘Mum, you have to try again,’ Jake yelled. ‘We have seconds!’
Miriam inserted her fingers again; again she received a jolt of electricity. The clock ticked, the cogs turned. She gritted her teeth and plunged her hand in for a third time. Just as the mechanism clicked into position, she retrieved the glass vial. She was breathing a sigh of relief – when suddenly the marble beast gave a huge crack. Everyone shrieked at once as Miriam slipped, losing her grip on the golden clock, but managing to catch the gargoyle’s wing in one hand and cling to the glass vial in the other. The clock struck a gargoyle below and smashed into a thousand glittering pieces.
‘I’m coming for you, Miriam – I’m coming!’ Alan shouted, but when he put his weight on the marble, it cracked again.
‘This doesn’t look too good,’ Miriam breathed, contemplating the sheer drop below.
‘You’re too heavy, Dad. Let me go,’ said Jake, who had climbed back down to the roof. He did not wait for permission. He stepped carefully onto the gargoyle’s back. But the crack widened and the gargoyle moved alarmingly. ‘We’re all too heavy,’ he murmured to himself in despair. Then an idea occurred to him. He turned to the small figure who had been keeping very quiet in the background. ‘Paolo Cozzo, this is your moment!’
Jake was right; he was their only hope.
‘Che?’ Paolo stammered, edging away. ‘No, I don’t think I’m your man. I’m terrible with heights.’
‘Not negotiable,’ barked Alan sternly as he dragged him back. ‘If you don’t do the right thing and save my wife, I will throw you off anyway.’
‘You can’t do that,’ whimpered Paolo. ‘You’d be reported. You’d be decommissioned instantly.’
‘Not negotiable!’ Alan pushed him to the edge of the parapet. ‘We’ll hold your legs. You crawl down and reach out for Miriam.’
Paolo snivelled with fear as he lay flat on his stomach. Alan and Jake took a leg each, and the boy started to reach down over the edge of the building towards the gargoyle. The moon had now passed over the sun, and the sky was bright again, illuminating the void below.
‘There must be an alternative,’ said Paolo, trying to pull himself back onto the roof.
‘Do it!’ barked Alan. He could see that Miriam was starting to lose her grip.
Paolo lowered his body onto the gargoyle and held out his shaking hand for Miriam. The stone creaked again.
‘You’re nearly there,’ Alan encouraged him. ‘Just a little further.’
Paolo’s eyes streamed with tears. He reached out, not daring to look down. He had never wanted anything more than to abandon this appalling adventure.
Then something strange happened to him. Time seemed to stop. Silence suddenly descended. He could hear neither the wind, nor the bells, nor his companions. All he could hear was his own breathing. He opened his eyes wide and looked down. He was hanging from the edge of a great cathedral, the tallest building in the world. Below him lay a city, and a woman hanging from a gargoyle with enough death in her clenched hand to destroy Europe. Within him, Paolo felt a sudden surge of courage: he could be a hero.
‘Not on my watch!’ he roared, and thrust out his hands. Miriam carefully placed the vial between her lips; she reached for his right hand, then let go of the gargoyle and grabbed his left.
Paolo gasped in agony as he bore her entire weight. His back was stretched to the point of dislocation. But his desperate tears were replaced by a defiant glare of resolution. He held on with all his might as Alan and Jake slowly reeled him back onto the roof – until at last Miriam could clamber to safety. She held the terrible vial triumphantly in the air.
Alan threw his arms around his wife and hugged her. Paolo, still dangerously close to the edge, squared his shoulders and took the glass vial from Miriam’s hand to examine its deadly contents. Immediately it popped out of his fingers and flew up into the air. Everyone gasped at once. Images of instant death flashed before their eyes. But Paolo caught it neatly in one hand.
‘Relax,’ he told them. ‘I’m using humour.’
Alan’s mouth curled into a quizzical smile and he laughed out loud. But he still took the vial carefully from Paolo; they could afford to take no chances now.
The four of them climbed back down into the bell tower. With the present crisis averted, Jake’s mind turned immediately to Topaz.
‘I’m going after her,’ he declared, resolution shining in his eyes. ‘Zeldt’s galleon is no more than five miles away. I will take the Aal. If I go alone, I will make up the time quickly.’
‘The Lindwurm? No, Jake, it’s not a good idea,’ said Miriam.
‘We’ve completed the mission. What’s to stop us?’
Miriam and Alan looked at each other. She continued in a tone that was both soft and firm. ‘Well, amongst other things, we have orders. Nathan Wylder was very clear: we were not to rescue Agent St Honoré, “even if we succeeded in our task”.’
‘Orders?’ Jake shook his head in disbelief. ‘I, for one, won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t at least try.’
‘You won’t be living at all!’ Miriam t
urned to her husband. ‘Tell him, Alan.’
‘She’s right. A very bad notion.’
‘Topaz is not your concern,’ Miriam added. ‘Her situation is very … complicated.’
‘It’s not complicated!’ Jake felt a tide of emotion rising within him. ‘It’s simple: she’ll die if no one saves her. And when did you ever obey orders? Did you obey orders when you went looking for Philip?’
He took advantage of the sudden silence that followed his question. He had calculated that there would be resistance, and had already formulated a plan. First he plucked his father’s telescope from his leather jerkin. Then he leaped over to the large basket of rocks that had been winched up to the top of the scaffold. Jake tossed out its contents, quickly checked the pulley, then kicked the basket over the edge of the scaffold and jumped inside. Miriam and Alan shrieked in unison as he started to descend at breakneck speed. As he went down, a counterweight shot up from the ground.
‘I’m sorry,’ he yelled back as he flew through the air. ‘Wait for me here.’
‘Jake!’ his parents shouted helplessly.
He hurtled downwards. Just before he landed, he grabbed hold of the rope to slow his progress. Below him, the basket shattered as he dropped down and set off along the long nave.
Miriam turned to Alan. She was expecting a face like thunder, but was met instead by a look of fatherly pride.
‘You can take that expression off your face right now,’ she threatened.
‘Are you forgetting how we first met? The Egyptian mission, 872?’ asked Alan. ‘You crossed two enemy lines and burrowed twenty metres under the great pyramid of Giza to reach me. History seems to be repeating itself.’
He looked down at his son as he dashed out through the main door, heading for the quayside. ‘He’s an adventurer, all right,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Nothing we can do about it.’
29 THE TERRIBLE TRUTH
JAKE POWERED DOWN the Rhine, navigating the bends and eddies of the huge river. He wove his way between the galleons, trade ships and ferries, surfing the waves of the larger vessels. His determined gaze was fixed firmly on the horizon, searching again for the red sails of Zeldt’s warship.
Every twenty minutes, ensuring that all was clear ahead, he dashed below deck and tossed wood into the furnace. The huge pile of fuel was steadily diminishing, but Jake did not consider failure.
He raced past the towns of Düsseldorf and Duisburg. Around the ports, the townspeople seemed to be moving slowly and cautiously, as if expecting some horrific consequence of the eclipse.
Then, suddenly, just past the village of Dämmrich, Jake was plunged into a dilemma: half a mile ahead of him, the river split into two tributaries, its traffic dividing equally between them. Jake opened up his father’s telescope, but there was still no sign of the red sails. As he advanced uncertainly towards the wave-tossed headland between the two rivers, he made a snap decision and took the right fork, which looked slightly wider.
It was the wrong choice. Just as he steered into it, he finally caught a glimpse of the Lindwurm steaming along the other tributary. Jake yanked the rudder round; the Aal swerved dangerously, and was suddenly awash with foaming water that drenched Jake and almost swept him overboard. But he clung onto the rudder with all his strength. It shook crazily as he steered around the headland. At the mercy of the choppy waters, the boat suddenly lurched round, into the path of an approaching ferry. The passengers on deck cried out angrily, there was a hollow splintering sound, and the ferry carried on. The Aal was damaged, but still seaworthy, and Jake finally found himself in the calm reaches of the left-hand tributary.
From here the river widened as it drew closer to the sea. Jake was now quickly gaining on the red sails. At last he glided into the magnificent bay at Hellevoetsluis. The North Sea opened out before him. The sun was starting to set over the horizon, colouring the sky in hues of pink and vermilion. It had become a still, hot evening.
Jake scanned the darkening horizon. There were maybe fifteen ships dotted around, each a distant silhouette. Jake identified the Lindwurm at the far end of the bay. She was moored just offshore, near a fishing village.
Jake studied her through his telescope. There was a rowing boat moored to her stern, and provisions were being loaded up onto her decks. With the task completed, the smaller boat turned and headed back to shore. The Lindwurm bustled with activity as the crew made hurried preparations for the voyage ahead.
Now the great barnacle-covered anchor was being hauled up from the sea bed, and Jake, under cover of the swift-descending darkness, drew closer. He slipped below decks and turned off his engine, and the Aal glided noiselessly across the water.
As he approached the Lindwurm, Jake could see how large and handsome she was. Her sturdy timbers still smelled of the great Rhineland forests from which they had been hewn. Her gigantic sails, the same rich red as the sunset, had the lustrous sheen of velvet.
The great hull was punctuated at intervals with rectangles of warm light; these were the windows of the many finely appointed cabins. It was in one such aperture at the stern – this one protected by bars – that Jake spied a familiar silhouette. He examined it with his telescope, and saw, staring forlornly out to sea … Topaz.
A stern voice shouted orders from the deck. There was a low rumble as the engine started up, and a moment later the still water behind began to bubble as the propeller rotated. The wooden behemoth started to move towards the open sea.
Jake wanted to cry out to Topaz, but there were too many guards on deck. Then he spied two ropes that had moored the rowing boat earlier; they were still hanging over the side, not far from Topaz’s window.
He drew alongside the ship and launched himself off the side of his boat, his legs pumping, and crashed against the hull, grabbing hold of one of the slimy ropes. He turned to watch the Aal drift on towards the harbour, coming to rest beside some other fishing vessels.
Jake looked down and saw that he was positioned immediately above the gigantic propeller, an in-distinct shape moving just below the surface. It had been turning slowly, but now its revolving blades whipped up the water into a frenzy. Mesmerized, Jake lost concentration: his hand slipped on the wet rope. He gasped as he plummeted towards the water, the rope tearing the skin from his hand. He caught himself just in time and felt the chilling pulse of the propeller sweep past below his foot.
He wrapped the rope around his forearm and pulled himself up again. His forehead was wet with sweat, his feet drenched by the churning sea.
Jake now lunged across and took hold of the second rope. He had to summon all his strength to hang on with his bleeding hands; he worked his way along the side of the ship until he drew level with Topaz’s window.
Holding onto the metal bars outside, his chest heaving with exhaustion, he peered in. The cabin was now empty.
It was furnished with dark antiques and forbidding portraits of Zeldt’s aristocratic and murderous family. Jake noticed a picture of Zeldt himself, dressed in shimmering black, his face stern, his white hand clasping a globe. The image sent a shiver down his spine, reminding him that he was an intruder in this private, forbidden world. In front of the fireplace stood two high-backed chairs, and, from behind the nearest of these, a pale hand reached out and took a book from a side table.
‘Topaz,’ Jake whispered.
The pale hand froze.
‘It’s me, Jake!’
Topaz leaped to her feet, startled. She gasped as she saw Jake clinging onto the bars outside her window, then threw down her book and ran over to him.
‘Que fais-tu ici? What are you doing here?’ she asked, almost angrily. Her long black cloak accentuated the paleness of her face.
Jake was taken aback by her apparent hostility. ‘You’re not hurt?’ he asked softly, hoping he had misinterpreted her tone. He had not.
‘Why are you here?’ she barked again, her eyes burning with fury.
‘I came to save you,’ he declared breathlessly. ‘The b
omb in the cathedral – we stopped it, Topaz! So I came to get you. As soon as I could.’
At this, Topaz gave a glimmer of a smile, but her eyes swiftly became resolute again. ‘C’est très dangereux!’ she whispered with a terrified glance round at the door. ‘We’re still close to shore. You can swim back from here. But you must go now!’
Jake was perplexed. ‘You don’t want to be saved?’
‘I am not thinking about myself, I am thinking about you. I can handle myself, but you will be killed. There is no question. So, please, I beg you, swim back to shore.’ Then, perhaps to mask her true feelings, perhaps to show more gratitude, Topaz tried a softer approach. ‘It’s such a relief to know you are safe. And Nathan, Charlie …?’
‘They went after the books. We don’t know if they were successful. But my parents are safe.’
‘You found them? Jake, I’m so happy for you! I knew it!’ Topaz clutched his hand through the bars and dropped her head so that he would not see the tears in her eyes.
Jake continued in his deepest, firmest voice, ‘Topaz, I have come here to rescue you and I do not intend to leave empty-handed. I’m coming aboard!’
‘No! That’s an order, Jake, and I am still in command.’
‘Well, I disobey,’ he said resolutely. He hitched up the rope and clambered onto the window ledge.
‘Jake, go back – go back immediately!’ Topaz demanded. ‘You mustn’t come in here.’
But Jake wasn’t listening. With new resolve, he scaled the side of the ship and pulled himself up onto the deck, ducking into the shadows behind the boxes of provisions. Most of the crew had gone below, but a group still remained in the bows. Jake picked up two of the boxes and, concealing himself behind them, headed for a staircase that led below.
Meanwhile, outside Topaz’s cabin, a guard was waiting with a tray of food. Holding the tray in one hand, he took a key from his pocket, unlocked the door and went in.
As he set down the tray, Topaz glanced fearfully towards the unlocked door. Feigning interest in her food, she approached the guard. In a lightning manoeuvre, she winded him with a thrust of her elbow, twisted his arm and brought him to the floor. She silenced his mouth with a firm hand as she took a small dagger from his belt.
The History Keepers: The Storm Begins Page 25
