by Dan Metcalf
To Beth, for always believing.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Glossary
Did You Know?
Code Breaker
A-Maze-ing!
Chapter One
London, 1928
Lottie burst through the heavy oak doors and into the darkened corridor.
“Hide … Got to hide!” she whispered, her eyes darting about for a suitable place to conceal herself. Along each side of the darkened corridor were glass cabinets and display cases, filled with ancient trinkets and artefacts.
“Lottie…”
She heard him behind her, not far away now. She could hear each pounding step he took. Her heart raced.
“Got to be quick!” she muttered and darted under a nearby table. Its legs were covered with a red velvet curtain, which she neatly rearranged so it looked like no one had been there.
“I know you’re in here…” sang the man’s voice. He was closer than she had realised. She parted the velvet curtain ever so slightly and peeked out. There he was, silhouetted in the light from the previous room, his large body casting a vast shadow. He stepped forward, closer and closer to her hiding place.
He was next to her now. Her heart beat loudly as she curled herself into a ball, desperate not to be found. She closed her eyes tightly and waited for the moment to come…
Suddenly, the entire corridor was flooded with light.
“Professor West?” called a familiar voice. “Package just arrived for you!”
“Ooh goody-goody!” said the figure next to Lottie. “Lottie, you can come out now.”
Lottie sighed with disappointment. She had been enjoying playing hide and seek. She crawled out from her hiding place and smiled up at the seeker, a rotund gentleman with white hair, dressed in a shabby linen suit.
“I win!” she declared. “Honestly Uncle Bert, I was right next to you.”
“Not fair,” sulked Uncle Bert. “You were supposed to stick to the Egyptian section. This case is clearly from Northern Sudan.”
They bickered as they paced along the corridors of the British Museum. Lottie Lipton had lived in the grounds of the museum since she was four, when her archaeologist parents were killed on a dig in Egypt. Since then, she had been cared for by her Great Uncle, Professor Bertram West. He worked as the Curator of Egyptology at the British Museum in London, where the two of them lived in a small ramshackle apartment.
In truth, it was Lottie who looked after her uncle; he was famously absent minded and Lottie would often have to remind him of his appointments, cook his breakfast and even tie his bow tie for him.
In her spare time, she had the run of the museum. She did not go to school, but instead read voraciously from the museum library and was tutored by her Uncle Bert and her friend Reg, the kindly old caretaker. He too lived on the grounds and was a mine of information; it was from him that Lottie knew how to tune a piano, address a Bishop, and even throw a knife.
It was Reg who had interrupted their game of hide and seek and he led them to the main entrance where a package was waiting. Uncle Bert set about opening the packing crate with a crowbar. When he had finished, a large golden statue stood before them. Lottie had never seen anything so beautiful.
“The Golden Cat of Cairo. It’s the centre piece to my new exhibition. The pharaohs worshipped felines, you see, and this was made to commemorate the passing of one of the royal pets.”
“It’s marvellous,” breathed Lottie, unable to take her eyes off it.
“Legend has it that the statue is cursed,” continued Uncle Bert. “It comes to life every night and prowls around, causing mischief…”
“Poppycock!” snapped a voice from behind them. They turned to see Sir Trevelyan Taylor, the Head Curator of the museum. He was a thin, weasel-faced man and he had never liked Lottie or Uncle Bert. He tried at every opportunity to get them out of their home at the British Museum, not caring for even a second where they might go. He looked the statue up and down, frowning. “Bertram, when will you learn that archaeology is about facts, not spooky curses? Now make sure this beastly object is in position for the grand opening tomorrow. We’ve got some very important guests coming and I’m relying on their donations to keep the museum running. If we don’t make our target, I’ll know who to blame,” he said, stalking off.
The Professor looked at his companions and blushed. “Poppycock, of course. There’s no such thing as curses.” He patted the giant cat on the head. “Ho-hum. We’d better get this in place. The exhibition opens tomorrow.”
The night of the grand opening of the exhibition came and Lottie was busy helping her Great Uncle to prepare. He had to give a speech in front of a room full of guests and was extremely nervous. Sir Trevelyan’s threats hadn’t helped.
“You’ll be fine,” Lottie assured him, practically pushing him on to the podium. The Golden Cat of Cairo stood next to him inside a display case, hidden by a large sheet. He mumbled through his speech with his eyes glued to his feet until it was time to unveil the main exhibit.
“It…ah…gives me great pleasure to introduce to you…”
Lottie smiled as she prepared to pull away the sheet.
“The splendid…”
Uncle Bert was shaking with fear, praying everyone liked his new exhibit.
“The striking…”
Here we go! thought Lottie.
“The Golden Cat of Cairo!”
Lottie whipped away the sheet to reveal…
Nothing.
The audience gasped and Uncle Bert turned to the empty display case.
“It was here earlier,” he said, confused. Lottie rushed to his side. She smiled at the audience, but caught the eye of Sir Trevelyan. He marched up to them and took Uncle Bert aside.
“Honestly Bertram, half of London is here tonight! If you make a fool of the museum again, I won’t be responsible for my actions! You have one hour to find that cat, or you’ll be asked to leave the museum,” he ranted. “For good!”
Lottie’s smile faded as he marched away.
“Oh Uncle Bert! We have to find the statue or we’ll be homeless! Where did you put it?”
“Here, I promise you!” said Uncle Bert, mopping his brow. “Wait…it could be…”
“The curse? I thought you said that was poppycock?”
“Trouble brewing?” said Reg, appearing by their side. “’Ere, I found this behind the cabinet.”
He handed Lottie a small papyrus scroll, no bigger than the palm of her hand. Inside, it read:
“But what does it mean?” said Lottie.
“It means the curse is real. Very real indeed,” muttered Uncle Bert. “As for the riddle, I haven’t the faintest idea.”
Lottie, Uncle Bert and Reg huddled around the tiny scroll, attempting to make sense of the cryptic riddle. Uncle Bert scratched his head and fiddled with his bow tie, nervously.
“Oh, it’s no good. I’m too nervous to think!”
Lottie rolled her eyes in exasperation and concentrated.
“I’m sure it’s quite simple. We just need to take it one step at a time.”
‘By night I prowl past stone and sand…’
“Stone and sand…It must mean the pyramids and the desert,” said Lottie.
“Of course! It means it’s left the Egyptology section,” smiled Uncle Bert.
‘Through oceans deep, to ancient lands…’
“Oh no! It’s gone abroad,” Uncle Bert’s smile fell.
“Or more likely, it’s left
the African section altogether,” said Reg.
‘Find me where the rising sun,
Shines round and red – we’ll have such fun!’
“The little trouble maker is playing with us!” said Reg.
Lottie tried to concentrate. She knew the words meant something…but what? Inspiration hit her in a flash.
“It’s talking about Japan. The Land of the Rising Sun! The national flag is a red circle on a white background!”
The three rejoiced, congratulating each other on completing the riddle.
“So what are we waiting for?” said Lottie. “Let’s go to ancient Japan!”
Chapter Two
Lottie raced her way through the labyrinth of corridors. Having grown up in the museum, she knew each room like the back of her hand, but the sheer size of the place meant that just getting from one side to another took time and time was something they didn’t have the luxury of tonight.
“Lottie! Slow down!” called her Great Uncle Bert, out of breath. He was some way behind her, his size slowing him down. Beside him strode Reg, putting on a good pace for his advanced years. Lottie pressed on, anxious to get to the other side of the museum.
Just as she turned the corner into the Department of Ancient Japanese Antiquities, she noticed too late the familiar shiny wood that meant Reg had been lovingly polishing the floor. She applied her brakes, but continued sliding anyway, through the open doors and straight into the Japanese exhibits. She only came to a halt when she ran into a jade green statue of a dragon and fell backwards with a loud thud to the floor. She paused to catch her breath but let out a scream when she saw the ancient statue rock slightly on its base and then come toppling towards her. It seemed to fall in slow motion. She shut her eyes tightly as the dragon pinned her to the floor, each fang of its fearsome smile landing close to her head.
She opened her eyes to find herself unhurt, but nose-to-nose with the monster. Uncle Bert appeared above her and let out a sigh.
“Can I suggest a case of more haste, less speed?”
Lottie reluctantly agreed, but was well aware that they had only an hour to find the cat. She would be having fun, were it not for the threat of being homeless hanging over them. Squirming out from underneath the statue, she brushed herself down.
“Silly thing,” she sulked. “What’s it doing here anyway?”
“It was a roof charm on one of the imperial palaces,” said Uncle Bert, as he and Reg struggled to lift the statue. “The Japanese believed it would protect them and ward off evil spirits.”
“But I’m not evil!” Lottie complained.
“No, but it must know a mischievous soul when it sees one!” laughed Reg, polishing the dragon’s nose with a rag.
Recovering from her close encounter with the dragon, Lottie started to creep among the exhibits, searching for the large golden figure of the Cairo Cat. The moon cast a menacing glow on the room and a more inventive imagination may have been scared by some of the statues, but Lottie had seen the room in daylight enough times to know better.
She stopped by a large bronze statue of a turtle, its fearsome roaring head and sharp claws glinting in the moonlight. Lottie knew the statue was a symbol of peace and was rather fond of it. She had even nicknamed it Charlie.
“Evening Charlie,” she whispered. “Seen any cats on your travels?”
Ridiculous, she thought. Talking to a lump of metal when her home was at risk. She was about to turn away when she thought she saw something. Her eyes darted back to the turtle and she blinked in disbelief. She looked again and, sure enough, Charlie was facing a different way. His head normally pointed upward to the right, but now it seemed to be pointing left.
“This way?” she asked, feeling a little foolish. The turtle remained immobile, but its roaring head now wore a cheerful grin.
“Thanks Charlie,” said Lottie, still feeling confused as she walked off to the left. She found herself in front of a display of Samurai armour.
“From the Tokugawa period I’d say. Around the 1600s.”
Lottie turned with a start. Reg grinned behind her.
“How do you know?”
“Y’don’t work in this place for as long as I have without picking up a few facts. The Samurai were warriors who fought in the civil wars, but by the time this suit was in action, they were more like officials, serving their Lord. Besides, it says so on the label.” He nodded to the explanatory plaque next to the suit and winked at Lottie. Uncle Bert wandered up to them.
“No joy?” he asked. “Hullo? This fellow’s got a funny smile.”
Uncle Bert had a knack for noticing the smallest of details on an exhibit. Sure enough, the mouthpiece of the helmet had something stuffed into it.
“Another scroll!” exclaimed Lottie.
Uncle Bert retrieved the small papyrus scroll from the suit of armour and unfurled it. Lottie took it straight from him, eager to see what the cat had left them this time. She read it out loud:
“Another blinkin’ riddle!” said Reg. “Me old brain ain’t used to all this work.”
“Come, come now old chap,” said Uncle Bert. “We can’t be disheartened. After all, it’s not even a real cat, just a statue.”
“Hmm,” said Lottie. “It does seem to be giving us the run-around though. The clues are getting harder.”
Uncle Bert took the scroll back and adjusted his glasses.
“Nonsense. I refuse to be out-witted by a giant lump of gold.” He read through the clue again and sighed deeply.
“Go on then clever clogs,” said Reg. “What does it mean?”
Uncle Bert sat down on a nearby bench with a confused frown.
“I haven’t a clue.”
Ten minutes later, the three of them sat on the bench, their heads in their hands. None of them knew how to solve the riddle.
“The trouble is, it could mean any sort of army. But which one? Viking? Roman? Greek?” wondered Uncle Bert.
“It’s all Greek to me,” laughed Reg, nudging Uncle Bert as he chuckled.
“Really Reg, how can you joke at a time like this?” Uncle Bert said irritably. But Lottie jumped to her feet, an idea striking her.
“That’s it!” she said. “Reg, I think this is the one time your awful jokes might actually help us.”
“Eh?”
“What do you find at the end of the armies?”
“The handies! Geddit?” smiled Reg, waving his hands in front of him.
Now it was Uncle Bert’s turn to leap to his feet.
“Of course. Not the ‘handies’, but the Andes!” he shouted, his voice echoing around him. “It’s a mountain range in Peru, where an ancient tribe called the Incas used to live.”
Lottie smiled and rolled up her sleeves.
“Come on! We’ve got a statue to catch!”
Chapter Three
The lights blinked on in the Inca room, casting a warm orange glow over the exhibits.
“Here kitty kitty,” called Reg with a grin. Lottie laughed and the two of them broke into a fit of giggles. Uncle Bert glared at them, and they struggled to regain control.
“I don’t need to remind you how serious this is. We don’t have time to be larking about.”
“Oh cheer up Professor,” said Reg. “It’s times like these you can see how ridiculous things are.”
“Ridiculous?” said Uncle Bert, nearly knocking over a display of beautifully decorated – and very breakable – beakers from the sixteenth century.
“We’re chasing around the museum at night, trying to find a giant golden statue shaped like a cat that has mysteriously come alive and escaped. If that ain’t ridiculous, I don’t know what is!”
They split up, searching the room. Lottie had always loved the Inca room for its colour and energy. The Incas were fascinating and had created the most wonderful beakers with decoratively designed mosaic pictures on them, showing what life must have been like. The pictures were in the brightest turquoise, red and gold, and when the light hit them, Lo
ttie saw amazing reflections dancing on the walls and ceiling.
“What’s so special about the Incas then?” said Reg loudly. Uncle Bert straightened his bow tie and was about to launch into his twenty-minute speech on South American culture, when Lottie jumped in ahead of him.
“They were incredible,” she said, suddenly forgetting to be quiet. “They ruled over a huge area of the Andes, around 2000 miles long, and they had a king that they worshipped like a god. They made roads and temples and bridges and…”
She fell silent as she saw a glint of gold in the corner of the room. The cat, at last! She snuck closer, careful not to frighten it away. She could definitely make out two golden ears on the other side of the glass cabinet display. She tiptoed over to the wall and unhooked an old rug which hung there. Creeping closer, Lottie raised the rug, turned the corner, and flung it over the statue’s head, diving and grabbing it by the neck so it wouldn’t run off.
“Got it, got it, got it!” she yelled. Reg and Uncle Bert came running.
“Well done Lottie!” said Uncle Bert. “You caught it, single handed!”
She sat on top of the statue, her arms around the rug which was wrapped around the statue’s head. “It doesn’t seem to be struggling. Let’s take a look at it.”
Lottie pulled back the rug to see a gold statue, but it wasn’t what she was expecting.
“That ain’t a cat!” said Reg.
“No,” said Uncle Bert. “It’s a llama. They live in Peru, where the Incas would farm them. It’s also five hundred years old and priceless.”
Lottie looked at the creature. It was large, had pointy ears and a long neck. It could easily have been mistaken for a cat.
“Oops. I suppose I should take this rug off you then,” she said to it, sulking a little.
