The House of Puzzles (10 page)

Gerald wrenched his hand free and turned to find Mr Mantle standing by the headmaster’s
desk. He greeted Gerald warmly. ‘We haven’t seen each other since the afternoon at
my butterfly house,’ he said. ‘You were with a friend. Miss Upham, yes?’

‘That’s right,’ Gerald said. ‘And you were with a friend too. Tycho Brahe.’

Jasper Mantle’s complexion reddened. ‘You have a good memory,’ he said flatly.

‘He made a big impression,’ Gerald said.

Sergei Baranov settled into a plush armchair and declared, ‘Enough with pleasantries.
Let us get to business. What is the latest with the initiation plans?’

Gerald had that feeling of helplessness that always occurred when other people made
decisions for him.

‘Do I get any say in this?’ he asked his mother.

Vi responded with a glare, then turned to Jasper Mantle and lavished him with an
ingratiating smile. ‘I’m sure Gerald is very much looking forward to New York, Jasper,
even if he isn’t showing it.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Teenagers.’

Mr Mantle gave a knowing nod. ‘We all had our rebellious stage,’ he said. ‘I seem
to recall bunking off
school to spend the occasional afternoon down by the riverbank.’

‘To have a sneaky cigarette?’ Vi said. She leaned across and placed a hand on his
arm. ‘I’ll bet you were quite the wag in your time.’

‘To catch butterflies, actually,’ Jasper Mantle said. He stared wistfully out the
window. ‘Heady days.’

Gerald looked at him blankly. ‘Butterflies?’

‘My collection had to start somewhere, Gerald. But that’s the collector’s lot—once
you start you have to keep going. It’s a bit like eating peanuts. It’s impossible
to stop at one. I’m still searching for the elusive Xerxes Blue all these years later.
It’s a lifelong pursuit.’

‘I’m the same way with shoes,’ Vi said, nodding in sympathy. For a moment, she too
gazed wistfully out the window. ‘So much leather, so little time. Now, do tell us
about the initiation. It has us all intrigued.’

Gerald squeezed in next to his mother on the couch. Jasper Mantle took a sip from
a china teacup and coughed lightly into his closed hand. ‘The Billionaires’ Club
is an institution of long-held traditions,’ he said. ‘Once you become a club member,
you are a member for life.’

‘What about Mason Green?’ Gerald’s head was slumped between his shoulders, his eyes
trained on the floor. ‘You booted him out.’

Jasper Mantle shifted in his chair. ‘Those were exceptional circumstances,’ he said,
his neck stiff as a gatepost. ‘Murder is most definitely not a tradition we hold
dear.
However, one man’s fall from grace is your opportunity, Gerald.’

Vi clamped her hand onto Gerald’s knee and squeezed. ‘Mr Mantle is right, dear. This
is an important opportunity for all of us. Certainly not one to be squandered.’

‘Ow!’ Gerald yelped. He rubbed his knee where Vi had dug in her fingernails. His
mother gave him one of her
button your lip if you know what’s good for you
looks.

‘It’s not at all onerous,’ Mr Mantle continued. ‘All you have to do to become a full
member in good standing is spend a night in the Billionaires’ Club in New York.’

Gerald looked sceptical. ‘That’s all?’

Jasper Mantle smiled. ‘That is all.’

Gerald narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s the catch? Is it haunted, or something?’

Vi emitted a trill of laughter. ‘Oh, Gerald—I hardly think Jasper would put you up
in a haunted house!’ A sudden look of concern washed across her face. She turned
to the butterfly collector. ‘Would you?’

Jasper Mantle spread his hands wide. ‘We all have skeletons in the cupboard, Mrs
Wilkins, but not so many ghosts. Our founder had quite the sense of humour. He designed
a house to explore his whims and fancies. Have you heard of him: Diamond Jim Kincaid?
He made his pile in railroads and property speculation in the United States, and
he established the Billionaires’ Club in 1830.
He was quite the eccentric, I’m told.’
Jasper Mantle clapped his hands together with gusto. ‘And now we can welcome two
new members into the fold.’

There was a sudden sickening lurch in Gerald’s stomach. ‘Two new members?’ he said.
He looked aghast at Alex Baranov, who was sitting smugly next to his father.

Jasper Mantle gave him a patient smile, as if he was house-training a particularly
dense labrador. ‘That’s right, Gerald. Two new members. It is such a piece of luck
that young Alex can attend the initiation as well, following the, uh, resignation
of Tycho Brahe.’

‘Someone else who didn’t hold with club traditions,’ Gerald said.

‘Quite.’ Mr Mantle dabbed a handkerchief at the corners of his mouth. ‘The members
were more than happy to offer the spot to Sergei’s son. All part of the renewal and
revitalisation of our group—it will certainly bring the average age of the membership
down.’

‘To a hundred and eight,’ Gerald muttered under his breath.

‘What was that, Gerald?’ Jasper Mantle asked.

‘I said, “I can hardly wait.” I’m sure Alex and I will have a wonderful night together.’

Jasper Mantle beamed at the two boys. ‘That’s the spirit. The more the merrier. You
see, Diamond Jim embedded a number of puzzles into the house. Part of the charm of
this initiation night is seeing how many of
them you can solve. They have tested
some of the finest minds for generations. Working together, who knows what you might
turn up. But I’m sure you’ll become jolly good friends forever.’

Alex glared at Gerald. ‘Oh yes. Jolly good friends.’

Gerald returned the glare. ‘Forever,’ he said.

Gerald zoned out as the details were discussed. The only detail he was worried about
was the one that had him sharing a night with Alex Baranov. As the meeting wrapped
up and his mother gave him a parting hug, Gerald was pulled to one side by Sergei
Baranov. The tall blond man stooped to speak quietly in Gerald’s ear.

‘My son has been teasing you, yes?’ Baranov said. ‘About your name?’

The note of sympathy in Mr Baranov’s voice took Gerald by surprise. ‘I suppose,’
he said. ‘But it’s no big deal.’

Sergei Baranov shook his head. ‘Alex can be a bit of a bully, I’m afraid,’ he said.
‘His mother and I…’ He stared at the floor and shook his head again. ‘We try our
best. But sometimes a person’s character, it cannot be changed. No matter what you
try.’

Gerald wasn’t sure how to respond.

Sergei Baranov stroked a hand across his chin. ‘Has Alex threatened you regarding
this Triple Crown challenge? Told you not to try?’

Gerald’s eyes were drawn in to the man’s hypnotic gaze. He nodded.

Again, Sergei Baranov ran a hand across his whiskered chin. ‘I see.’ He moved his
mouth close to Gerald’s ear. ‘This is one time I agree with my son.’

Gerald’s head jolted. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said.

Sergei Baranov’s voice deepened. ‘If you know what is good for you, you’ll quit this
challenge and walk away. The same goes for the initiation at the club. You have nothing
to gain here, Gerald Wilkins. Spare yourself the trouble and some very real pain.’

Gerald took a clumsy step backwards, bumping into the corner of the headmaster’s
desk. He looked wide-eyed at Sergei Baranov, not sure if he had heard right. But
the look on the man’s face told Gerald there had been no mistake.

‘So nice to meet you, Gerry,’ Sergei Baranov said in a voice of Siberian frostiness.
‘I do hope to have the pleasure again very soon.’

Chapter 10

Gerald chose a desk near the back of the classroom as a stream of students flowed
inside. Felicity tossed her bag on the floor by his feet and settled in next to him.

‘I’m looking forward to this,’ she said. ‘Scottish history in Scotland. What a treat.’

Gerald watched Felicity insert a pencil into a sharpener and give it a twist. ‘You
were more fun on holidays,’ he said.

Felicity withdrew the pencil and pursed her lips to blow away any stray shavings.
‘And you run the risk of being very boring indeed if you keep up that attitude.’

Gerald rested his chin in his palm until his cheek squished up to his eyeball. ‘More
boring than Scottish history?’

Felicity did not bother to respond.

Gerald’s initial excitement at being away at camp had quickly flattened when he realised
that his days were still going to be full of school lessons. Sergei Baranov’s threat
and Mason Green’s insistence that he crack the coded message from Jeremy Davey had
made him anxious. That anxiety was only compounded by the relentless drudge of algebra,
French vocab and the periodic table. And, worst of all, Scottish history.

The remainder of the students filed in. Ruby was the last through the door. Gerald
raised his hand to beckon her across, when her path was intercepted.

‘Will you look at that?’ Gerald said.

Felicity glanced up. ‘At what?’

‘Blinking Alex Baranov has just asked Ruby to sit next to him.’

‘And?’

‘She said yes!’

‘I don’t think that’s illegal,’ Felicity said. ‘She can sit wherever she wants.’

‘I know,’ Gerald said in a low grumble. ‘But Alex Baranov? That’s just revolting.’

Felicity screwed up her nose to mirror the look on Gerald’s face. ‘So is jealousy.’

‘I am not jealous,’ Gerald said. He paused while he sharpened his narrow-eyed scowl
at Alex. ‘I just really hate that guy.’

A hush fell over the room as a short woman in a
tweed skirt and starched white blouse
marched into the class. ‘Settle everyone, please,’ she said, in equally starched
tones. ‘It’s thinking time.’

Felicity wriggled upright in her chair. ‘Oh goodie,’ she whispered to Gerald. ‘It’s
Miss Whitaker. She’s one of my favourite teachers.’

Gerald squinted at the woman at the front of the class and tried to reconcile the
concepts of ‘favourite’ and ‘teacher’.

Miss Whitaker rubbed her hands together and beamed. ‘Today we are going to talk about
the life of King James VI of Scotland. Now, can anyone tell me something interesting
about James VI?’ she asked.

She was met by a sea of blank faces.

She scoured the room, looking for signs of intelligent life.

‘Anyone?’ she asked.

Gerald was not surprised to see Ruby’s hand in the air.

‘Yes, Miss Valentine?’ the teacher said. ‘What can you tell us?’

Ruby’s spine straightened. ‘King James VI of Scotland was born in 1566 and died in
1625. He became the king of England after the death of his cousin, Elizabeth the
first, who was the daughter of the Tudor king Henry VIII, thereby bringing together
the realms of England and Scotland to form the United Kingdom.’ Ruby cast a smug
look back at Gerald and Felicity. Gerald
screwed up his face in response.

Miss Whitaker tossed her hands in the air. ‘Oh, dates and deaths—how very dull. I
want something interesting. Something that will light the fires of our imagination.
Did you know that James kept a hunting estate just up the road? That’s at least a
little bit interesting. Surely one of you knows something more interesting than Miss
Valentine’s vomited-up calendar bile.’

At that moment Gerald would have gladly signed away half his fortune in exchange
for a photograph of Ruby’s face. Felicity leaned in close to Gerald and whispered,
‘I told you she was one of my favourite teachers.’

Miss Whitaker strode down the centre aisle between the desks. ‘Come along! Give me
something to
chew
on!’

Kobe Abraham raised his hand. ‘Wasn’t he, like, a little baby when he became king?’
he said.

‘Yes!’ Miss Whitaker cried in a voice that would have been heard from the front gates.
She spun on her toes and advanced on Kobe. ‘How old was he? Do you know?’

‘Uh, maybe a year old?’ Kobe replied, his eyes registering alarm at Miss Whitaker’s
sudden burst of speed and enthusiasm.

‘Thirteen months,’ she said. ‘King of Scotland and still filling his nappies. Can
you imagine it?’ Miss Whitaker turned her attention to Sam, who was daydreaming at
the next desk. ‘You! Boy!’

Sam jolted upright. ‘Yes? What?’

Miss Whitaker descended upon him like a vampire at sunset. ‘Who invented the submarine?’

Sam blinked up at the teacher. At the back of the room, Gerald suppressed a laugh.
Even by Sam’s standards, that was a particularly random question.

‘Go on. Who invented the submarine?’ Miss Whitaker said.

Sam wrinkled his nose. ‘Um…King James of Scotland?’

‘No! Of course not,’ Miss Whitaker barked. ‘He was the monarch, boy. Not a bloody
inventor. What a ridiculous response. Naturally King James didn’t invent the submarine,
but he hired the man who did. Cornelius Drebbel, a Dutch dabbler of no fixed address,
became a great friend of King James. He was appointed royal inventor and even took
James for a ride in his submarine in the River Thames in London. He was the first
ruling monarch in history to travel underwater.’ Miss Whitaker stood with her feet
apart and fists planted on her hips in triumph, as if she had just felled a charging
rhino with a single shot and the force of her convictions. ‘Now, how’s that for interesting?’

At the back of the class, Gerald’s head rose from where it had been resting in the
cup of his hands. His eyes glazed as the gears in his head spun. Something Miss Whitaker
had said sent his mind whirring.

Sam beat him to it.

‘Cornelius Drebbel?’ Sam said. ‘Didn’t he invent a
perpetual motion machine?’

The cogs in Gerald’s brain engaged with a jarring
clunk
, which could probably be
heard from the front gates.

Cornelius Drebbel.

Gerald’s mind shot back to a night a few weeks before in a snow-frosted village in
the Czech Republic, to a small hotel and a fireplace and an old man telling ghost
stories while his wife hung a string of garlic from the front door. The old man talked
about Cornelius Drebbel.

Miss Whitaker swooped on Sam like a seagull on a hot chip. ‘Yes! That is also an
interesting fact,’ she said. ‘Among Cornelius Drebbel’s many employers was the Bohemian
emperor Rudolph II. Now, Rudolph was a fascinating character—a man obsessed with
collecting. He amassed a cabinet of curiosities that was the envy of every ruler
in Europe, and part of the collection was rumoured to be a perpetual motion machine
built by Cornelius Drebbel.’ Miss Whitaker prowled down the aisle. Every eye in the
classroom was on her. ‘Cornelius left Rudolph’s castle in Prague under strange circumstances
and along with him went his amazing machine. It was suspected, but never proved,
that Drebbel gave King James the world’s first and only perpetual motion machine
as a gift. But its location, if it ever existed, has been a mystery ever since.’