The Broken Sun (12 page)

‘But a blind man may also mistake the tail of an elephant for a snake.'

Phoebe placed the pieces of the Broken Sun on a bench. It was strange seeing them
together, three golden batons with turning dials decorated with a myriad of pictures.

‘That's neither a snake nor an elephant,' she said. ‘It's the most highly advanced
piece of technology ever to come out of the ancient world—and it's evidence that
Atlantis existed. It will lead us to New Atlantis.'

They continued towards London. Mr Doyle veered the
Lion's Mane
into a lane of city-bound
airships, and soon the ship was descending to the roof of 221 Bee Street.

Gloria greeted them as they climbed down to the balcony. They introduced Phoebe and
the women shook hands cordially.

‘You're in charge of looking after Ignatius, are you?' Phoebe said. ‘That must be
quite a challenge.'

‘Mostly I keep him under control by hitting him with a stick.'

‘Has anything of a pressing nature arisen?' Mr Doyle asked Gloria.

‘Just the usual range of murders, muggings and thefts.'

‘Good.' When Mr Doyle asked for an update on the condition of Professor Clarke, it
turned out the man had still not arisen from his sleep.

‘Would you be so kind as to put up the out-of-office sign?' Mr Doyle asked. ‘And
locking the front door?'

‘Are we expecting trouble?' Gloria asked.

‘Possibly.'

Jack showed Phoebe to the guest bedroom and gave her a tour of the apartment. It
took longer than expected as there were some places he had never been to himself.
Phoebe was both bemused and amazed by the mayhem.

‘Ignatius hasn't changed,' she said. ‘Still as messy as ever.'

Jack felt defensive. ‘He has solved many mysteries.'

‘I would imagine a good detective would want to find Atlantis.'

‘I think he's more interested in finding his son.' As soon as the words were out
of Jack's mouth, he regretted them.

‘What do you mean?'

‘I shouldn't have said anything.'

But the horse had already bolted. Jack explained briefly what had brought them to
this point in the investigation.

‘He was certain Phillip had been killed in the war,' Jack concluded. ‘Until now.'

Phoebe swallowed. ‘That's so distressing,' she said. ‘I've watched and admired Ignatius'
achievements from afar, but I didn't know about his son. It must be terrible not
knowing if he's alive or dead.'

‘Mr Doyle's a great man,' Jack said. ‘And a brilliant detective.'

‘I'm sure he is,' Phoebe said, gently. ‘Mind you, he probably would have been a better
archaeologist.'

An archaeologist?
Jack tried to imagine Mr Doyle poking about an ancient ruin in
a foreign country. It was not that strange an idea. They returned to the dining room
where cups of Mr Doyle's famous hot chocolate were waiting on the table.

The room was the only place in the apartment that contained any free space. A twelve-seat
table was in the middle. It was an ancient, solid oak construction that Mr Doyle
had said once belonged to Alfred the Great. The room had no windows, only a skylight
directly over the table.

Stacked against the walls were Mr Doyle's collections of tin cans, framed bus tickets,
wind-up toys, comic books and prosthetic limbs.

‘Nice to see you've finally found a place for those wooden legs,' Phoebe said.

‘Have you always collected things, Mr Doyle?' Jack asked.

The detective smiled. ‘I don't think of myself as a collector,' he said, checking
his revolver as the others drank. ‘Things just look better grouped together.'

‘Are you worried they'll try to steal the Broken Sun again?' Scarlet asked, eyeing
the weapon.

‘I'm planning on it. Their capture will lead us to their employer and to whoever
sent Amelia the watch.'

‘The watch?' Phoebe asked.

‘I will explain later,' he said. ‘I suggest we turn in for the night. An addled brain
will not function.'

After Scarlet had retired, Jack lingered for one last look at the Broken Sun. The
pieces still made no sense. As he left to weave through the mounds of odd possessions,
he turned to see Phoebe sitting across from the detective. She placed a gentle hand
on Mr Doyle's arm.

‘Tell me about your son,' she said.

Back in his room, Jack dressed for bed. Bertha's cage was in his chamber. Jack fed
her, turned out his light and settled in to stare at the ceiling. The last few days
had been exhausting. They had travelled halfway around the world and were still no
closer to discovering the truth about Mr Doyle's son.

How does this whole mystery fit together?

It had begun with the watch being delivered to
Amelia Doyle. Then the warning note
about the British Museum. Professor Clarke—the real man—had been assaulted with a
sleeping poison. And all this had led them on a search for the Broken Sun.

But what was the connection between the Broken Sun and the watch? And how did Phillip
Doyle fit into all this?

The next morning, Jack woke to a knock. Mr Doyle's head appeared in the doorway.

‘Rise and shine, my boy,' he said. ‘We're out here unravelling the mysteries of the
universe.'

‘Really?' Jack said, struggling out of bed.

‘No. Actually, I'm about to make breakfast. Food for the body provides energy for
the mind!'

Jack had eaten Mr Doyle's cooking on a few occasions. While the great detective had
many abilities, cooking was not one of them. As Jack wandered into the kitchen, Mr
Doyle was already rummaging through one of the cabinets.

‘Oh dear,' he said, after a minute. ‘We seem to be down to half a loaf of mouldy
bread and a piece of cheese so hard you could write with it.'

‘I did mention that we needed to shop,' Gloria said, arching an eyebrow. ‘Once a
month is not nearly enough.'

‘Possibly we should delay breakfast and we'll spend some time examining the Broken
Sun.' Dust exploded as he closed the cupboard. ‘Gloria, would you be so kind as to
retrieve it from the safe?'

Gloria disappeared in the direction of the library.
The safe was built into a space
behind one of its many bookcases.

‘I must remember to buy food more frequently,' Mr Doyle said. ‘I once survived for
a year solely on marmalade and gherkins. It was while I was investigating a case
involving a rubber brain, a hairdresser and a singing turtle—'

A scream echoed through the apartment.

‘Good Lord!' Mr Doyle cried.

‘That was Gloria!' Scarlet said.

They tore along the hallway to find her lying facedown on the floor with a purple
thorn beside her.

‘No!' Jack said. ‘She's been poisoned!'

A sound came from the balcony. Jack charged towards it with Mr Doyle close behind,
and they saw a small, dark-haired man disappearing over the railing. In his hand
was the bag containing the pieces of the Broken Sun.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

But Jack didn't care about the Broken Sun.

Gloria was the closest thing he had to a mother, and now she might die. Jack peered
over the balcony. The man was nimbly climbing down the side of the building. He was
already halfway to the street, the bag slung effortlessly over his shoulder.

Jack had been an acrobat, but he would ever have attempted something so risky. A
small external elevator clung to the side of the building. Little more than a simple
pulley system, Mr Doyle and the team used the odd-looking contraption to reach the
street quickly.

‘Jack!' Mr Doyle cried. ‘Wait—'

But Jack ignored him, releasing a lever and shooting
to the bottom. The dark-haired
man was already turning the corner.

A light morning fog floated about the streets. The man raced ahead, darting around
horse-drawn carriages and steamcars. He disappeared into the mist of a Stevenson
77. Jack followed, almost colliding with a delivery man with an armful of parcels.

‘Sorry!' Jack yelped.

‘Blasted young—
'

Jack heard no more. The assailant was ahead of him, slowed by the morning crowds.
They were heading into the centre of London, the shopping district clotted with department
stores.

Then Jack lost sight of him.

No!

Jack reached Blessington's department store, one of the largest in London, with more
than fifty levels and dozens of elevators.
He must have gone inside.
Hurrying up
the steam-powered escalator, Jack soon found himself in the men's clothing and accessories
section. He spent several minutes searching the floor before heading up to the next.
A hand grabbed his shoulder from behind.

Phoebe Carfax.

‘Where is he?' she asked.

‘I don't know. Somewhere on this floor.'

Peering over a display of hats, Jack spotted the man heading towards the elevators
at the far end.

‘We'll need backup,' Phoebe said. ‘Ignatius and Scarlet aren't far behind. You go
back and I'll follow him.'

‘No,' Jack said. ‘I'll follow him.' Nothing was going to stop him from catching the
man. ‘You let Scarlet and Mr Doyle know what's happening.'

Phoebe looked like she wanted to argue, but something in Jack's face told her she
would be wasting her time.

Jack watched the man approach the elevator and step inside. The floor dial raced
up to the number ‘12'.

Waiting for it to return, Jack climbed in and hit the button. Disquiet swam in his
stomach. Was the man really on a shopping spree after stealing the Broken Sun? What
was he doing on the twelfth floor?

And what's so special about this elevator?

The interior was old, the walls covered with timber panelling, and there was a handrail
at waist height. Jack's eyes focused on a mark halfway up the wall. It almost looked
like…

…a shoe print.

When the elevator reached the twelfth floor, it emitted a puff of steam and the doors
slid open. Two men started to enter, but Jack waved them back.

‘Building's on fire,' he said. ‘Take the stairs, please.'

He slapped the button marked ‘G' and the doors shut. A trapdoor in the ceiling was
ajar and, as the elevator was descending, Jack placed a foot on the handrail and
pushed himself up until his hand caught the edge of the hatch. Shoving it out of
the way, he climbed onto the roof of the moving cabin.

A line of twenty elevators slid up and down like cogs
in a mighty machine. They all
moved at various speeds, stopping and starting, their hoisting ropes trembling in
the gas-lit interior. Jack coughed. Steam choked the air.

The elevator slowed and stopped. Glancing back through the hatch, Jack saw an elderly
woman enter. She did not look up.

Who would?

The elevator started to climb. It was only at the last moment that Jack looked up
to see the man slamming into him like a cannonball, sending him flying off the roof
into midair.

Jack landed on the roof of the next elevator, narrowly missing the cable. The man
leapt down and Jack rolled out of the way. The bag containing the pieces of the Broken
Sun was nowhere to be seen.

Scrambling to his feet, Jack threw a punch—and missed. The man shifted his stance,
dropped and aimed low with a sweeping kick, knocking Jack's legs from under him.
The elevator started to ascend as Jack threw himself at his assailant in a wild attack,
forcing him backwards. They teetered, wrestling at the edge of the roof, clouds of
steam and open space beyond. The man tried to twist sideways, but Jack headbutted
him, pushing with all his might.

Smash!

They had slammed onto the roof of the next elevator. Jack heard one of the man's
ribs crack, but it did not stop him. He flipped Jack over his head. Stepping back
a few feet, he ran at Jack…

…and jumped right over him.

Jack spun about to see him fly over the next elevator and land on the one beyond.
The man did not land neatly, sprawling untidily into the cabling. The elevator on
the other side ascended and the man readied himself to cross to it.

Damn! He's going to escape.

Jack braced himself to jump too, but his legs were shaking. The man was now two elevators
over with the elevator between them descending like a rock.

It's now or never.

Jack thought of Gloria, remembering her sightless eyes. He gritted his teeth and
leapt, arms spiralling to drive him forward. He hit the edge, teetering perilously
before regaining his balance.

He was too late. The thief leapt to the next chamber, carrying him out of sight.

No!

The man's elevator was heading up while Jack's was heading down.

Jack glanced behind him. There was no time to think. He took a running jump, leapt
to the elevator behind him and the one beyond. The elevator zoomed up.

He peered over the side, his heart pounding like a bass drum. He was high up now,
a hundred feet from the bottom. The thief was three elevators across and waiting
for the one next to him to descend.

Jack took a single ragged breath and ran. Jumped. Crossed two elevators and hit the
third one—hard,
twisting his ankle. The pain was terrible, but Jack now found himself
face to face with the man.

‘Infidel! You will never find Atlantis.'

‘I don't care about Atlantis!' Jack cried. ‘You poisoned my friend. I want the antidote.'

‘Never!'

The man sunk a fist into Jack's stomach, winding him, and followed it with a blinding
jab. Jack saw stars.

‘The location of New Atlantis has remained a secret for centuries,' he heard the
man say. ‘Did you really think you would find it?'