In truth, Jake wasn’t one hundred per cent certain. The moment had been so fleeting.
‘Besides, not a soul knows we’re here. Only Commander Goethe has our exact time location, so let’s not panic.’ Nathan leaned over and whispered in Jake’s ear, ‘If I were you, I’d be more frightened of what’s about to happen out there.’ He pointed at the stage.
Jake nodded and tried to calm his thumping heart.
An excited hush descended around the theatre as the lights started to fade. A moment later, the orchestra suddenly struck up in a great fanfare of horns and bass drums. Jake once again scanned the tiers of people in search of the blond man, but there were just too many people. Everyone was leaning forward, eyeglasses poised. Another blast of trumpets, and then the violins began.
Jake felt a chill go down his spine as the curtains slowly rose, revealing a dark landscape. At first this was difficult to make out, but a series of lighting effects, each one drawing sighs of admiration from the crowd, gradually illuminated the stage: in the background, a huge moon hung above mountains and pyramids; in the foreground stood palm trees and giant flowers.
‘We’re in Egypt,’ Charlie whispered in awed tones, ‘in the realm of the Queen of the Night. In a moment Tamino is going to enter, pursued by a giant serpent.’
‘It’s a roller coaster,’ added Nathan, stifling a yawn.
There was a soft ripple of applause as the young hero materialized out of the desert mist, then fearful sighs as a giant snake curled down from above. At the sight of this, Jake froze. He knew the reptile was nothing but a piece of stage machinery – albeit a very convincing one – but memories quickly came flooding back. It was only a short time ago that he had been thrown into a hideous chamber of snakes and ladders. At the last minute he had been saved by two other History Keepers’ agents – his mum and dad, actually – but the incident had left a scar.
Gradually the stage filled with curious characters: three mysterious ladies in veils, a man dressed as a bird – ‘Mr Drake would have hooted with laughter,’ Charlie commented – then, heralded by ominous claps of thunder, a majestic, fantastical figure took shape out of the stars.
‘That’s the Queen of the Night,’ Charlie murmured as she emerged high above the others. ‘She’s going to ask Tamino to save her daughter from the clutches of the evil sorcerer Sarastro. It seems like she’s this frightened mother,’ he carried on breathlessly, ‘but actually she’s the villain and wants to steal the sun and plunge the world into darkness.’
‘Don’t they all? Mothers-in-law?’ Nathan said with a mischievous smile.
Jake was so hypnotized by this figure, so lost in her spine-tingling voice, so focused on her evil eyes, that when a knock came at the door behind him, he jumped in shock.
He and his companions turned round.
Another knock came, but this time it was followed by three sneezes and then a high voice: ‘It’s me, Caspar.’
All three of them gave sighs of relief. Nathan opened up and Caspar Isaksen squeezed himself into the box. Jake stared. Caspar was his age, but as wide as he was short, with ruddy cheeks, a runny nose and crazy fair hair going off in all directions. He had a worried smile and glistened with a layer of perspiration. He wore a bright turquoise jacket and breeches that were far too small for him, and Jake noticed that he had done up his buttons wrong.
‘Sorry – so sorry I’m late,’ Caspar puffed, madly wiping his nose and dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Hello. Caspar Isaksen . . .’ He shook Jake’s hand, then Charlie’s. ‘Ah, Nathan! We’ve met, of course. As you can see, I didn’t forget your advice – you said turquoise would do wonders for my figure. I never wear anything else,’ he added with great pride, then turned to show off his outfit from all sides and caught sight of the stage for the first time. ‘Good heavens! The Queen of the Night is already on! Has she sent Tamino on his mission? She’s a sly one, isn’t she?’
Nathan was already losing patience. ‘Yes, yes – but business first. I take it the atomium’s in there?’ he asked with a nod towards the holdall in Caspar’s hand.
‘The atomium is—’ Caspar froze mid-sentence, holding up his finger. Jake was just wondering what was going to happen next when suddenly the other boy sneezed. Then again; and a third time for luck.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Caspar sighed, wiping his face with his damp handkerchief. ‘You’re quite right – business first.’ He knelt down, opened his case and started to remove the contents. Jake, Nathan and Charlie watched, bewildered, as he unloaded cake after cake after cake. ‘I couldn’t come to Stockholm without paying a visit to Sundbergs Konditori. Strawberry custard, cinnamon bun, Christmas knäck – yummy yummy,’ he muttered as he laid them out one by one.
Finally, from the bottom of the bag, he retrieved a small veneered box. He wiped off a layer of icing sugar and a dollop of cream, and passed it to Nathan. A concentrated stillness descended on the agents. Jake could see that the top of the box was inscribed with an elaborate I – for Isaksen. Nathan opened it, and a golden light shimmered across their faces.
Inside, in a midnight-blue casing, lay two crystal vials, each full to the brim of the infinitely precious liquid.
‘That’s one consignment for Point Zero,’ said Caspar in a more business-like tone, ‘and one for the Chinese bureau.’
Nathan was just closing the case when Jake caught sight of a face in the crowd and his stomach churned. Down in the stalls, everyone was looking in the same direction, their faces bathed in light from the stage – except for one person: the blond man seated in the far corner, who was staring fixedly up at them.
‘There!’ Jake shouted out, pointing at him.
Nathan, Charlie and Caspar turned at once and saw the figure quickly rise from his seat, a silver pistol in his hand. Nathan snatched the opera glasses from Jake and used them to follow the man as he ran up the aisle and stormed through the double doors.
‘We’ve been compromised!’ he exclaimed. ‘Back to the ship immediately!’ He chucked the binoculars back at Jake and carefully took hold of the box of atomium. He adjusted something – Jake couldn’t see what – inside, then flung open the door and looked both ways along the curving corridor: nothing but flickering candelabra. ‘Charlie, you go that way. Whoever gets to the Tulip first, prepare to set sail straight away.’
In a heartbeat, Charlie was racing along the corridor and disappearing down the stairs at the end.
‘Jake, Caspar, come with me!’ Nathan barked. Caspar was hurriedly picking up his cakes and putting them back in his bag. ‘Now!’
Nathan led the way, heading in the opposite direction to Charlie. Jake followed, with Caspar wheezing behind. Footsteps approached from the other end of the passage and a figure appeared.
The three agents froze. Time seemed to stand still as Jake saw their adversary clearly for the first time. He was the same age as Nathan – sixteen or thereabouts – and in many ways a crueller, fair-haired version of him. He had striking features, a superior look in his eye and, judging by his tailored clothes, the same pride in his appearance. His hair, in particular, was a work of art: long, blond and perfectly straight.
Jake could see that Nathan had gone pale.
‘Who in God’s name is that—’ the American started to say as the man raised his pistol – and fired.
2 THE WIDE-BRIMMED HAT
THE BULLET WHISTLED over their heads and struck one of the crystal chandeliers. It came down on the floor behind them with a crash.
‘That was a warning shot,’ the boy announced silkily in a slight foreign accent. ‘You will give me the box,’ he said, holding out his hand as he advanced. ‘Resistance is pointless. Your sword is no match for my Chaumette flintlock,’ he added with a shake of his beautifully crafted gun.
There was a pause, then Nathan spoke calmly. ‘All right,’ he said, lifting his hands, with the box in clear view. ‘I’m not prepared to die over a couple of bottles of the undrinkable. You win.’
‘Nathan?�
�� Jake exclaimed in disbelief.
‘No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea . . .’ Caspar whimpered. He was peering over Jake’s shoulder and mopping his brow with his handkerchief.
Nathan ignored them, keeping his attention on the stranger. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked politely. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met.’
The blond boy sniggered. ‘Impertinent question.’ But after a pause, he shrugged and replied, ‘You can call me the Leopard.’
‘Leopard? Great moniker.’
‘The Leopard,’ the boy snarled with a shake of his perfect fair hair. ‘I’m one of a kind.’
‘That I can see,’ Nathan concurred. ‘Your double-breasted waistcoat is way ahead of its time, and the Chinese button detailing on your breeches is, frankly, sublime.’
The smile on the Leopard’s face faded. ‘Just hand over the box.’ He levelled his pistol with one hand while holding out the other.
Nathan clenched his jaw, took a deep breath and gave it to him.
Just for a second as he opened the box, the boy took his eye off Nathan – and saw that it was empty. Then everything happened at once. Nathan snatched Caspar’s sodden handkerchief and threw it into the Leopard’s face, where it stuck, blinding him completely. The gun went off, but the bullet went through the ceiling. Nathan kicked high and smashed his boot into his opponent’s jaw. The boy teetered backwards, lost his balance completely and landed in a tangle on the floor, his head giving a crack as it hit the wall.
‘I lied – those Chinese buttons are the height of vulgarity,’ Nathan said as he and the others escaped down the corridor. At the far end, he threw open the door to another box and quickly pushed Jake and Caspar inside. He bolted the entrance behind them and turned to face the occupants. It was the three pretty ladies he had spied earlier.
They stood in shock, clutching the jewels around their necks, but clearly relishing the intrusion. ‘Under different circumstances’ – Nathan tossed his auburn locks and showed his glinting teeth – ‘this might have been hello and not goodbye . . . Quickly, you two,’ he said, throwing his legs over the balcony and jumping down into the stalls, provoking murmurs of annoyance amongst the audience. As he hit the carpet, the bottles of atomium slipped out of his pocket. He quickly scooped them up.
Jake nodded politely at the girls, while Caspar froze, turning crimson and clutching his bag of cakes to his chest. As Jake helped him to clamber over the balustrade, the unfortunate girls were treated to the sight of his bright turquoise trousers ripping – revealing a half-moon of large pink backside. They tore even more as Caspar awkwardly scrambled his way to the floor – giving the whole audience a glimpse of his derrière. Jake followed with a single athletic vault. As he landed, Nathan pressed the two bottles of atomium into Jake’s hand. ‘Holes in my pockets,’ he said, patting his jacket. ‘You hold onto them.’
Jake felt a sudden flutter of panic, of daunting responsibility, but he slipped them into the deep pouches inside his jacket.
‘This way,’ Nathan commanded, skirting round the auditorium to the exit at the back. He stopped dead when he saw the Leopard swing through the doors, then turned on his heel and cut straight along a row of seats. The others followed, apologizing as they pushed their way past the acres of fine silk and crinoline. Caspar yanked up his trousers, tripping over their priceless shoes and shedding chunks of Christmas knäck as he did so, provoking jeers of outrage; one ancient lady was so furious, she bashed him over the head with her fan.
‘Quickly, quickly.’ Jake pushed him into the aisle. The Leopard was now bearing swiftly down on them and they had no choice but to run up the steps at the front of the auditorium. A great swathe of opera-goers half stood in astonishment as the three of them shuffled over the bridge spanning the orchestra pit and onto the stage itself. The Queen of the Night did not falter in her aria; rather she focused her falsetto fury on the invaders, hurling notes at them like barbed daggers.
The Leopard quickened his pace and was on the point of firing his pistol again when a number of guards – they’d evidently been alerted to an incident – quickly filed in through the side doors, muskets at the ready. The Leopard froze and slowly replaced his weapon in its holster. Realizing that it would be madness to try anything now, he reluctantly slunk back up the aisle.
Nathan watched him retreat before turning roguishly towards the Queen of the Night. ‘Love your work – simply spine-tingling . . .’ He saluted her with a theatrical air-kiss. ‘Mortified to be missing the denouement.’ The rest of the cast watched, slack-jawed, as the three agents steered their way around the set – with Caspar bumping into a pyramid and toppling a palm tree – and exited into the wings.
They flew along the backstage passageways, weaving their way through clusters of performers, set-movers, candle men and wig-makers. They tore down stairs into a strange underworld of old props and painted backdrops; slithers of history piled up against each other. Jake noticed one in particular: a vast rendition of the Colosseum of ancient Rome – a gigantic crumbling arena beneath a bold blue sky. For a second he lost himself in it before Nathan pushed him on along the network of passages.
By the time the three of them reached a side exit – one of many leading out of the opera house – Caspar looked half dead, his chest heaving like a bellows. Nathan carefully edged open the door and checked that the coast was clear. There was a line of carriages parked along the side of the building and a huddle of drivers playing cards, rubbing their hands together to keep warm.
Nathan signalled to the others, and they crept out and ducked down in the shadows behind the coaches. From here they could see the main entrance. At length, the Leopard marched out – darting his head this way and that in search of his prey. He quickly strode over to his accomplice, a man in a wide-brimmed hat, and spoke to him. The latter then mounted his horse and disappeared round the far side of the building.
Nathan motioned for Caspar and Jake to climb into one of the carriages. Jake carefully opened the gilt-framed door and let himself into the silky interior. When Caspar stepped up, the whole vehicle creaked under his weight, sinking down on one side. As the card players looked round to see what the noise was Nathan jumped up onto the driver’s seat and flicked the reins.
The horses didn’t move.
The drivers started shouting and ran towards him – immediately alerting the Leopard to what was going on – and he flicked the reins again. ‘Come on, come on!’ Nathan begged. When he finally stood up and delivered a sharp kick to each rump, they suddenly whinnied and took off, careering across the square.
In a flash the Leopard mounted his steed and whistled for his companion. The man in the wide-brimmed hat came charging back and they tore off in pursuit of the carriage. Two of the other carriage drivers, outraged at the theft, leaped up onto their own vehicles and joined the chase. The convoy hurtled across the bridge, with Nathan at its head.
Jake and Caspar were shaken violently as the wheels juddered over the wooden planks. Then they were hurled to one side as the coach swerved round a corner, Jake crushed under Caspar’s huge belly. Once they had righted themselves again, the Swede, his hands trembling, fished some broken pieces of knäck out of his bag and starting shovelling them into his mouth.
‘What are you doing?’ Jake shook his head in disbelief.
‘Sugar calms me down in an emergency,’ Caspar spluttered, scooping up another handful.
Suddenly a gunshot rang out and a bullet smashed through the window behind them. Jake glanced back – a biting wind now blowing in his face – and saw the Leopard tearing up the hill, a smoking pistol in his hand, with his partner galloping swiftly behind.
Suddenly the carriage veered to one side again as Nathan swung round another bend, the wheels skidding on the ice. He shook the reins again, weaving skilfully through the narrow cobbled streets of the old town – up, down, left and right – as their pursuers tried to catch them.
The two vehicles at the back did not make it: the leading one t
ried to navigate a sharp bend but it met a patch of black ice and skidded across the road, smashing, in a shower of sparks, into the steps of a church, completely blocking the path of the second.
Nathan plunged down the hill towards the harbour. Between the narrow buildings, far below on the dockside, he could see the hulking silhouette of the warship, next to which the Tulip was berthed. Then disaster struck. A cart laden with coal came tottering over a crossroads ahead, blocking his way. The horses reared up, whinnying, their hooves slipping on the ice. Suddenly the whole carriage swung round and took charge of its own destiny. With an ear-splitting screech, it crashed into the window of a cake shop, plunging into an elaborate display of baked goods.
Nathan dismounted in a flash and pulled open the door for the others. ‘Quickly! Quickly!’ he yelled, helping them out.
‘Sundbergs Konditori!’ Caspar suddenly gasped on seeing the name of shop they had just crashed into. He quivered at the sight of a thousand buns and cakes ready for the taking; but Nathan and Jake took an arm each and dragged him down a steep flight of steps to the port. Within seconds they were lost in a labyrinth of narrow passageways and winding steps which the others, on their horses, could not negotiate.
They came to a wide portico that led, through a series of arches, into the customs house – a great high-windowed chamber still full of activity and chattering people even though it was well into the evening. Throngs of richly dressed merchants haggled with dour, bespectacled officials as goods were weighed, and gold and silver coins counted and reluctantly handed over. Nathan, Jake and Caspar weaved their way through the busy crowd (amongst the exotic-looking people here – seafarers from all over the world – even Caspar in his ripped turquoise suit didn’t look out of place) to the main door on the other side, which led directly onto the harbour.
‘There – look.’ Jake pointed at the Tulip, further along the dock in the shadow of the warship. He remembered he still had the opera glasses in his trouser pocket. He took them out, surveyed the ship and spotted a figure hoisting the mainsail. ‘It’s Charlie – he made it.’
History Keepers: Circus Maximus Page 2