Martin King and the Space Angels (Martin King Series)

by James McGovern

  Martin hugged her.

  ‘After everything that’s happened,’ said Darcy, ‘and with everything that’s yet to happen… we need to stick together.’

  They sat on the steps for a while, watching the storm.

  ‘So…’ said Darcy, ‘what’s your idea?’ She smiled. ‘Come on! I can always tell when you’ve got an idea—you’ve got that excited look in your eyes.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Martin. ‘I’ve thought of a way to steal the Monograph.’

  *

  ‘Come in,’ said Mr Slater’s voice.

  The teacher looked up as Martin entered his office.

  ‘Morning, sir,’ said Martin.

  ‘I am glad you are all right,’ Slater replied. ‘I was worried yesterday. I thought that perhaps…’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Martin.

  ‘As your teacher it is my responsibility to chastise you for your actions. Your decision to not attend school yesterday was totally unacceptable.’ Martin lowered his eyes. Mr Slater smiled. ‘But as your friend, it is my duty to ask whether you have discovered any information that will bring us closer to retrieving the Monograph.’

  ‘I’ve done better than that, sir. I have a plan. But I was wondering… you know those Deceiving Necklaces you gave us…’

  Martin explained his newly-formed plan to Mr Slater, and the alien teacher’s eyes twinkled.

  ‘That is certainly possible,’ he said. ‘And it just might work.’

  *

  The streetlamps glowed in the growing fog. Since the storms, the streetlamps in Britain had been permanently lit to ensure constant visibility. A police car was parked at the side of the road.

  Three police officers stepped out of the car; the fourth officer remained in the driver’s seat. They made their way towards a large house. The odd glint of lightning cast light over their middle-aged features.

  The three officers reached a tall black security gate, flanked on either side by stone pillars. The tallest officer rang the doorbell and they waited.

  ‘Hello?’ The voice from the intercom had a deep American accent.

  ‘Harvey Longfellow?’ said the tallest officer. ‘We’re from Scotland Yard. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?’

  ‘Certainly. I’ll open the gate. Hang on a second.’

  The electronic gates opened with the whirr of a motor. The police officers stepped over the threshold and crunched along gravel towards the house.

  A door opened as they reached it, and light poured out into the misty morning. Harvey Longfellow smiled at the officers. His hair was neatly-combed, and he was wearing a business suit. He was overweight, and his skin was pale and rough.

  ‘I am going out in an hour or so, sirs,’ said the businessman, smiling, ‘but what can I do for you?’

  ‘We’re sorry to bother you, sir’ said the tallest officer, ‘but we have quite a sensitive matter to discuss with you. My name is Sergeant Martin King, and my colleagues are Constable Darcy Williams and Constable Tommy Walker. Do you mind if we come in?’

  ‘Not at all, gentlemen—lady,’ said Harvey.

  The three police officers followed Harvey into his home. Martin was grateful that his thick police tunic masked the heavy beating of his heart. In actual fact, neither Martin nor his friends were wearing police uniforms. They were still wearing their own casual clothes. But they were wearing Deceiving Necklaces; Mr Slater had reprogrammed them to create the illusion that the teenagers were middle-aged police officers.

  ‘Have a seat,’ said Harvey, as they sat down. ‘Can I offer you a drink?’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Tommy.

  Martin glanced around the inside of Harvey’s living room. It was large and grand, and filled with expensive furniture. A Picasso hung above the fireplace.

  ‘Now gentlemen—lady—what is it that you wanted to ask me?’

  ‘We understand, Mr Longfellow, that you own a significant collection of rare exhibits.’

  ‘My museum is second to none. But what is it that interests you about it?’

  Martin took a deep breath. So far, so good. But this was where the real plan came into action.

  ‘We have had a report of a robbery,’ said Martin. ‘And we have reason to believe that you purchased a similar item at auction recently.’

  Harvey’s face was inscrutable. ‘I purchase lots of things at auction.’

  ‘You must understand that we’re not accusing you of anything,’ said Darcy, ‘but it would help our investigation if we could take a look at the object for ourselves.’

  Mr Longfellow hesitated; then he smiled. ‘Why not? Come with me. Come and see my museum!’

  Harvey led the three teenagers to an ornate staircase, and they followed him down into the darkness.

  The plan was simple yet audacious. They knew that Harvey was a dishonest man. Therefore, it seemed likely that he wasn’t too concerned about the sources of his purchases. Also, a man with such a shady history was probably eager to avoid any police scrutiny. All they needed to do was convince Harvey that his Monograph was a stolen artefact and get him to hand it over.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Harvey pulled a heavy switch. Light after light flickered on. Harvey wasn’t exaggerating by calling the place a museum. It was huge.

  ‘Impressed?’ said Harvey, grinning. ‘This place was built as a secret bunker for your Royal Family during the Second World War. The idea was that if the Nazis ever invaded the Royals could hide themselves away safely to avoid Hitler’s clutches. My house was, in fact, owned by the Royal Household until 1978.’

  ‘It is impressive,’ said Tommy. ‘How long did it take you to collect all of this?’

  Harvey laughed. ‘A long time. You see this?’

  He pointed out one glass case. A skull lay on a red satin sheet, lit by a small directional light.

  ‘Now this is a very special exhibit. This skull is the only existing piece of the body of King Arthur.’

  Martin stared at the skull’s blank eyes. He wondered whether it really was King Arthur’s skull. After all, skulls were so very alike.

  Harvey had already moved on; he beckoned them to look at the next display case.

  ‘This,’ he declared, ‘was found inside a meteorite that came down in Tibet in 1834.’

  Martin had never seen anything like it. It was a blue triangular prism—totally smooth—with a tiny speck of light trapped in the centre. It was almost as if someone had captured a little star.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Darcy.

  ‘It is,’ agreed Harvey, ‘but it’s not what you came for, right?’ He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out the Monograph. ‘This is what you came for.’

  Two men stepped from the shadows. They were tall, muscular, and carrying guns.

  ‘The game’s up,’ said Harvey. He reached into his other pocket and took out a Truthful Eye. ‘You know what this is, right? I saw you guys through the monocle when you were outside my gate. I was expecting you three.’

  ‘What?’ said Tommy. ‘You knew we were coming? How?’

  ‘I was informed. Informed by the same person who sold me this monocle, in fact. Now, you have a choice. I can get my men to shoot you… or you can help me.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like much of a choice,’ said Darcy.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Harvey. ‘Oh—and you can take off those necklaces now.’

  How does he know so much? Martin wondered. How could he possibly know about the Deceiving Necklaces?

  ‘Like I told you before, I have a contact,’ said Harvey, as the teenagers removed their Deceiving Necklaces. ‘The person who sold me the monocle told me that you would come here today. And they also said that you would be able to help me.’

  ‘Your contact,’ said Martin, ‘is he an Axis Lord?’

  Harvey laughed his booming laugh. ‘Sharp one, aren’t you? Obviously, all my contacts are confidential, but I guess you can say this particular person is… out of this world.’

&nb
sp; It’s Slater, thought Martin, it’s got to be. He was the only other person who knew about their plan.

  ‘So, what do you want us to do?’ said Martin.

  ‘Come up to the attic, and I’ll show you.’

  *

  A large skylight looked out at the darkened, stormy sky.

  ‘There she is,’ said Harvey. ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’

  She certainly was. The telescope was cast out of polished brass and mahogany, and it was gilded with an elegant floral design. And there was something alien about it. Martin knew instantly where it must be from.

  ‘This telescope was built by the Axis Lords,’ said Harvey. ‘I confess that I know little about these mysterious creatures—apart from the one I know, that is—but it is clear that they are masters of design and elegance.’

  ‘I don’t understand why you need our help,’ said Tommy.

  ‘Well, as beautiful as this telescope is, I can’t get the damn thing to work. I have had countless engineers look at it, but none of them have even begun to understand how it works. My contact said that only a boy named Martin King could help me.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about telescopes,’ he began, but Harvey cut him off.

  ‘Perhaps, perhaps. But please try.’

  Martin paused. ‘All right. I’ll try. But if I fix it you have to give me something in return. I want the Monograph.’

  Harvey chuckled. ‘Martin, don’t forget my boys downstairs. They’re carrying guns!’

  ‘Come off it,’ said Martin. ‘That doesn’t frighten me. You might have managed to get out of fraud but murder would be a little harder to deny.’

  Harvey was not shaken. But he laughed again. ‘You’ve obviously done your research. I like you, Martin. I like you a lot.’ He paused. ‘Oh, what the hell! You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours. If you manage to get the telescope working you can have the damn sphere.’

  Darcy squeezed Martin’s hand. Harvey placed his eye over the telescope’s eyepiece.

  ‘Whatever I try,’ he said, ‘the telescope won’t work. It’s just black inside. Look—’

  Martin looked into the telescope. He couldn’t see anything except darkness.

  ‘I see what you mean. Maybe it’s broken.’

  Harvey sighed. ‘Perhaps.’

  Think, thought Martin. We need that Monograph, so I need to find some way to fix Harvey’s telescope. But how? I wouldn’t even know how to repair a toaster, let alone an alien telescope.

  Martin rested his hand on the body of the telescope and peered into it again. As his fingers brushed the polished mahogany, something began to happen. The telescope began to get warmer, and there was a low whirring sound, like the turning of clockwork.

  ‘It’s doing something,’ shouted Harvey. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Martin.

  Martin took a step back from the telescope. Suddenly, the noise stopped. Harvey couldn’t hide his disappointment.

  ‘Damn it,’ he shouted.

  Tommy stepped forward and peered into the eyepiece.

  ‘Harvey?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Take a look.’

  Harvey looked through the telescope, and he gasped.

  ‘Is that… yes, it is! It’s a galaxy! A real galaxy!’

  He turned to Martin, his eyes filling with tears. ‘Thank you, Martin, thank you so much!’

  Martin put his eye to the eyepiece. It was incredible—a swirling, spinning vortex of stars and stardust. But how had he made it work? Why had it responded to his touch?

  ‘OK,’ said Harvey. ‘You’ve done your bit.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out the golden Monograph. ‘Here you go.’

  Martin took the Monograph with both hands and stared at it. On the bottom was the number 321. Could the Monograph really bring them one step closer to saving the planet?

  ‘Thank you,’ said Martin. He turned to his friends. ‘Well… let’s find out what XO5 is so desperate to get its hands on…’

  Chapter 8: Kara

  Michael Slater held the shining Monograph with both hands.

  ‘And now we shall see,’ he said.

  They were back inside Valiant Star, sitting in a circle and waiting to discover the Monograph’s secret. Mr Slater activated the sphere, and they watched.

  ‘This is Axis Archive Monograph 321. My name is Dr Zego Thay, chief scientist at the Institute for Scientific Advancement. I am about to perform an experiment concerning the Isis Crystal.

  ‘I have added a microscopic sample of the Isis Crystal to a stable bio-suspension solution. I will now proceed to pour a small amount of the solution over three geometric shapes. The shapes are made from a simple polymer material.’

  The doctor on the screen carried out the experiment; the three shapes transformed into different objects.

  ‘It seems our fears were justified. The Isis Crystal is unsafe, and as such, must be hidden in the City of Serenity, on Planet Earth, by order of the Great Charter. This location should keep it safe from malevolent access. Let us pray to the Wheelmaster that this is the end of the matter.’

  ‘So that’s what we’re looking for,’ said Tommy.

  ‘The Isis Crystal…’ said Slater. ‘The name means nothing to me. But I do recognise one name from the Monograph—the City of Serenity.’

  ‘You’ve heard of it?’ said Darcy.

  Mr Slater smiled. ‘Every little Axis boy is taught about the City of Serenity.’ He paused to collect his thoughts. ‘Before you understand what it is, you must first learn a little about the history of my people. Many millions of years ago, the Axis Lords were a primitive and warlike people—much like the inhabitants of your world today. But, as the centuries passed, our people continued to develop intellectually until we abandoned war completely.

  ‘There followed a time of peace. The Axis Lords had advanced to a point where they were masters in virtually every field—mathematics, history, science, technology… the Axis Lords became rightfully known as the most accomplished race in the galaxy.

  ‘However, the Axis Lords still lacked one thing—imagination. Now, I do not speak of the imagination required to build machines or to formulate mathematical theorems, but of the imagination required for a child to make up a story, or for a sculptor to create a work of art. Among all the billions of Axis Lords, there was not a single poet, or an artist, or a novelist.

  ‘But one man changed everything. His name was Angalax, and he was born on the Axis world of Hal-Minor. Angalax was not a promising student; he performed poorly in school and failed most of his final exams. However, at the age of eighteen, Angalax did one thing that no Axis Lord before him had ever done. Angalax wrote a poem. Nobody had experienced anything like it; poetry was still an unknown concept in the entire Blue galaxy.

  ‘But Axis Lords have always been quick learners. Angalax’s poem—a work of intense beauty—sparked off a massive cultural revolution on the Axis planets. Over the next six months, thousands of poets, novelists, painters and sculptors began to spring up all throughout the Axis Belt. These were exciting times.

  ‘But the Axis government was frightened. They were frightened that the cultural revolution would lead to a political revolution. Indeed, many Axis Lords began to call for a new way of ruling—you would call it a democracy.’

  Mr Slater smiled a sad smile. ‘I am sure you can guess what happened next.’

  ‘War?’ said Martin.

  Slater nodded. ‘War. The government made a new law stating that all of the arts were henceforth forbidden. Poetry, painting, dance, drama… as quickly as these concepts had come into existence they were outlawed. But the new creatives were not about to be silenced so easily. They challenged the government’s right to rule, and demanded an election.

  ‘The events that followed came to be known as the Three Hour War. All of the Axis Lords who refused to accept the new governmental decree were rounded up and imprisoned. Their leader—Angalax, the first poet—was publicly executed.
The rest were given a choice—conform or die.

  ‘None conformed. Of the approximately 10,000 rebels, around 3,000 were killed. The remaining 7,000 were exiled to an island prison called the City of Serenity—a place they would never be able to leave.’

  ‘And this place is on Earth?’ said Darcy.

  ‘Yes. The City of Serenity is located on an invisible island in the North Atlantic Ocean, not far from Bermuda. It is shielded from human detection with Axis technology. It has been many thousands of years since the Three Hour War, and the Axis Lords living in the city have developed a large and complex society.’

  ‘And the Isis Crystal—the thing we have to find—is hidden there…’ murmured Tommy. ‘So how do we get in?’

  ‘Getting into the City of Serenity will be simple,’ said Mr Slater. ‘Getting out will pose much more of a problem. Like I said, the city was designed to prevent any escape. In nearly 8,000 years, only one person has ever managed to escape—an Axis Lady named Moonstone.’

  ‘Nice name,’ said Darcy.

  ‘A nice name, perhaps. But Moonstone is the most evil, the most debased being the Axis race has ever produced.’ Mr Slater turned to Martin. ‘Do you remember the time a few weeks ago when you heard a strange voice coming from inside my office?’

  Martin nodded.

  ‘That was Moonstone. Her voice was disguised, but that was her. Although she managed to escape from the City of Serenity she is still unable to leave this planet. An Axis satellite is in continual orbit around the Earth, which is programmed to respond to the DNA of the descendants of any Axis rebels. It would shoot her down the moment she left the planet’s atmosphere. She cannot leave, so she seeks to destroy the Earth instead—a last vengeful act of pure evil.’

  ‘And you’re helping her?’ said Martin.

  Mr Slater uncomfortably tugged the lapels of his tweed jacket.

  ‘This is difficult to explain—and it will be even more difficult for you to believe me—but I am only pretending to help Moonstone. She has provided me with invaluable information in my quest to find what we now know is the Isis Crystal. It was Moonstone who sold me the Foreteller, who helped me to get the teaching job at Gateway School, who told me that Harvey Longfellow possessed the Monograph we so sorely needed. Without her, none of this would have been possible.’