‘And what will I do up here? Learn flower arranging?’
‘You’ve got the gun. Take cover and wait.’
‘My goodness,’ Scarlet said, her eyes angling to a plaque attached to the wall. ‘This is called Okiku’s Well. Apparently she was a servant girl who worked at the castle. After losing a plate, she was thrown down the well in a fit of rage by her employer. Her ghost is said to haunt the well, as she endlessly counts plates, trying to find the missing one.’
‘Did you really need to tell me that?’
‘Mr Doyle doesn’t believe in ghosts.’
‘He’s not the one climbing down the well.’
Jack carefully started down feet-first, gripping the stonework with his hands. Fortunately, there were gaps between the stones wide enough for his fingertips. The well was centuries old, but the mortar was solid, and the stones dry.
Jack controlled his breathing: from his years at the circus, he knew confidence was the most powerful ally he could have. A piece of stone broke loose, clattered into the darkness and splashed into the water.
He peered up at the opening, but saw only a perfect circle of sky. Scarlet was gone.
Good. She must be hiding.
The well seemed to go forever. How deep is this thing?
Jack paused. His arms were getting tired. What had seemed like a great idea at the top now seemed incredibly stupid. They could have returned later with rope. Mr Doyle was always telling him not to be so foolhardy.
Glancing up, Jack suddenly saw the silhouettes of two men. He was so terrified he almost let go of the wall. Then he realised they couldn’t see him. This far down, the well was bathed in gloom.
Jack remained frozen as they chatted in German.
They must have heard a sound from the well and decided to investigate.
Eventually the two men disappeared, but by that time Jack felt like his arms were ready to fall off. Taking a deep breath, he continued down. Another pebble dislodged and fell into the water, but this time the tiny splash was closer. Jack could now see the inky black water about ten feet below.
There’s nothing here that looks like a map, he thought.
He cursed himself. His arms were aching with exertion, and a headache was building at the back of his skull. Then his eyes focused on one of the stones. The blocks around it were dark, almost black. This one was crimson and stuck out several inches from the wall.
That must be it, Jack thought. It’s that or nothing.
He tried pulling the brick out, but nothing happened, so he tried pushing it. Suddenly a loud grinding reverberated around the well. Jack held on grimly as the section he’d clung to swivelled on an axis, exposing a small tunnel.
He climbed inside. It was so low he had to crouch. Taking a candle from his coat, he started down, remembering the story Scarlet had told him.
Her ghost is said to haunt the well...
Jack peered into the dark. Ghosts aren’t real, he told himself.
And then a hand touched the back of his neck.
Almost screaming, he jumped, slamming his head hard against the ceiling. Swinging about in alarm, he didn’t see a ghostly hand, but only a root that had grown through the brickwork.
Grimacing, Jack rubbed his head. That’ll leave a lump. Then he spotted the small stone altar at the end of the tunnel.
He crept closer. On it sat a painted parchment, but more chilling was what sat on the parchment: a broken plate, skull and other bones that glistened in the pale candlelight. Jack swallowed. His heart was racing a mile a minute now. He didn’t know a lot about anatomy, but he could tell the skull had been fractured.
Jack felt like a grave robber. Someone had died here and this was clearly an offering. Saying a small prayer, he carefully eased the parchment out and examined it.
This time the images were that of a section of coast, a ship and a rectangular box. Even Jack could see the section of coast was Japan.
This is the clearest clue yet, he thought. But the Japanese coastline is thousands of miles long. And how will we get to the bottom of the sea?
Pocketing the parchment, Jack crept back to the well. There was no sign of movement at the top. This time, he was dripping with sweat, and breathing hard, as he climbed to the top.
Evening had arrived: the sky had turned indigo as the first stars appeared. Peering over the wall, Jack saw the courtyard before him was deserted.
‘I advise you to climb from the well,’ came a thick German voice from behind. ‘Otherwise your end will be all the more painful.’
Turning his head, Jack saw Mr Doyle and Scarlet on their knees with half-a-dozen Nazis pointing guns at them.
Anton Drexler smiled as he leant close to Jack. ‘Thank you, my boy,’ he said. ‘You have done our work for us.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jack wanted to punch Drexler in the face, but resisted the urge. Instead, he heaved himself from the well and crumpled onto the ground.
Drexler bent over and snatched the parchment from his coat. ‘A cryptic clue,’ he said. ‘What does it mean?’
‘I don’t know.’
The Nazi strode over to Mr Doyle. ‘And you?’ he demanded. ‘What is the meaning of this picture?’
‘Like my assistant,’ Mr Doyle said, ‘I don’t know. And I wouldn’t tell you even if I did.’
Drexler slapped the detective across the face. Jack sprang to his feet, but one of Drexler’s henchmen jabbed him with a rifle, driving him to the ground.
‘It is of no matter,’ Drexler said. ‘We will solve it. The Kusanagi sword has waited this long. It can wait a little longer.’
‘The police will be here soon,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘One of our friends escaped. No doubt the authorities are almost here.’
‘Then it is best that I dispose of you now,’ Drexler said, pulling out a revolver.
His finger tightened on the trigger. Then a single shot rang out and his weapon flew away. Gripping his bleeding hand, he ducked and ran as a hail of bullets slammed into the surrounding Germans.
Jack and the others threw themselves to the ground until the attack finished and the remaining Nazis had run away.
‘Who—?’ Scarlet began.
A door eased open on the opposite side of the courtyard and a Japanese man in a black suit appeared. He had steel grey hair and a tiny goatee beard.
Approaching them with an unpleasant smile, he scooped up the parchment.
‘I am pleased to see the Nazis did not take the map.’ He glanced at it. ‘It may take some time to recover the sword, but it will eventually be mine.’
‘It seems we have you to thank for our lives,’ Mr Doyle said.
‘One of my employees did the killing,’ the man said, indicating a nearby tree. ‘I have allowed you to live so you may be ransomed later to the British government.’
Mr Doyle’s face darkened. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘I am Kei Fujita,’ he said, ‘a businessman.’
‘You’re a Metalist!’ Scarlet said.
‘Yo
u may call me that,’ Fujita said. ‘The Darwinist League have plagued me for years with their dreams of clean energy and new technology.’
‘You’re responsible for the attacks on the symposium,’ Mr Doyle said.
‘And the kidnapping of your brother,’ Fujita said, smiling at the look of surprise on Mr Doyle’s face. ‘Ah yes, I am holding Edgar. At first, my interest was only in the destruction of the Darwinist League, but then I learnt of his quest to find the sword.’ He nodded. ‘Can you imagine the sword’s power? The ability to control the wind? To use its force to destroy your enemies? With this map I will find it and—’
The businessman stopped, his gaze fixed on a point behind them. They turned to see a man, holding a machine gun, staggering towards them.
‘I have not told you to move!’ Fujita snapped. ‘Why have you—’
But as the man drew near, they realised a single metal star was protruding from his throat. Blood gushing from his wound, he fell down—dead.
Behind him, the red ninja dropped silently from a tree.
‘Who are you?’ Fujita demanded. ‘Who are you working for?’
The red ninja’s response was to hurl another throwing star. Fujita ducked and ran, firing a gun as he fled from the courtyard.
‘Thank you,’ Mr Doyle started. ‘We would not have survived—’
But he never got to finish. The red ninja threw something to the ground and there was a burst of smoke. By the time it cleared, she was gone.
‘She’s incredible!’ Scarlet said.
‘Better than Bottie Bringabutt?’
‘It’s Brinkie Buckeridge—and, almost.’
‘Fujita took the map,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘But at least we’re alive.’ Taking a piece of cheese from his pocket, he said, ‘Although I’ve been in worse situations. One time, I investigated a case involving a rubber mouse, a teddy bear and a backyard volcano. It all started when—’
‘Mr Doyle,’ Jack interrupted. ‘Perhaps we should find Hiro?’
‘Of course.’
Carefully navigating through the castle, they eventually reached one of the outer gates with no sign of either Drexler or Fujita. Night had fallen by the time they reached their dragonfly.
‘Mr Doyle?’ came a voice from the gloom.
‘Hiro?’
‘Where have you been?’ Hiro asked, emerging from the bushes. ‘I became lost in the castle. Is everything all right?’
They all laughed. Climbing into the dragonfly’s cabin, Mr Doyle quickly related what had happened.
Hiro swallowed. ‘Not only is Fujita a Metalist, but he is also one of the deadliest gang bosses in Japan,’ he said. ‘If he doesn’t ransom Edgar to the British government, then he will kill him.’
Mr Doyle started. ‘But surely the police—’
‘—will do nothing,’ Hiro said. ‘You know they need evidence before they can arrest him.’
‘What can we do?’
‘Fujita has a private tower in the heart of Tokyo,’ Hiro said, thoughtfully. ‘Fortunately, I know the man who designed and built it.’
‘You’re suggesting we break in and save Edgar?’
‘It is his only chance. And we should act quickly.’
As they zoomed over the darkened Japanese landscape, heading back towards Tokyo, Mr Doyle was quiet. The wind had picked up now and it was colder. Lightning flashed on the horizon.
Jack watched Mr Doyle. The detective was obviously conflicted over putting them at risk to save Edgar. What had he said about his brother?
A scoundrel...a consummate thief...broken into a dozen museums over the years...
Approaching the heart of the city, Hiro glanced back at them.
‘What is your decision?’ he asked.
Mr Doyle sighed. ‘I must try to save Edgar,’ he said. ‘If I can.’
‘Good.’
‘But I must do it alone.’
‘No,’ Jack protested. ‘We’re coming with you.’
‘You can’t—’
‘We are,’ Scarlet interrupted. ‘And you can’t stop us.’
The detective sighed. ‘When I took you on as my assistants,’ he said, ‘I imagined you would obey my orders.’
‘Mr Doyle,’ Jack said. ‘You have not taught us to obey. You have taught us to think.’
Hiro grinned. ‘I believe you are outnumbered,’ he said.
‘All right,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘We will save Edgar.’
‘Good,’ Hiro said. ‘I will take us to Sato. He is the man who designed Fujita’s tower.’
He directed the dragonfly to the south of the city, down through a canyon of buildings to a narrow alley of ancient homes. After parking the dragonfly, Hiro knocked at one of the doors. A young Japanese woman answered. Hiro said a few words, and she led them into a living room.
There were no chairs. Jack and the others sat on the floor around a small table. An elderly man appeared, his face creasing with anger as Hiro spoke to him in Japanese.
‘You are Doyle?’ the old man said, finally turning to the detective.
‘I am.’
‘Helping you could cost me my life. Why should I assist you?’
Mr Doyle swallowed. ‘The future peace of the world is at stake,’ he said. ‘Including the lives of millions of people. Not to mention my scoundrel of a brother.’
Sato nodded grimly. ‘Family is both a blessing and curse,’ he said.
He left, only to return a few minutes later with old plans of a one-hundred storey tower. He laid them across the table and they crowded around. Jack couldn’t see any way they could break in.
Sato pointed at the ninety-ninth level. ‘When I designed the tower,’ he said, ‘Fujita told me to put cells here, beneath his penthouse. He said he liked to keep his enemies close.’
‘This is impossible,’ Jack said. ‘There’s no way we can fight our way up all those levels.’
‘That will not be necessary,’ Hiro said, his face lighting up. ‘I think we should go straight to the top.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hiro struggled to control the dragonfly as they flew across Tokyo. Rain poured into the cabin through the open doors. The cloud cover was thick with visibility limited to one hundred feet.
We’ll be lucky if we don’t crash into the tower, Jack thought.
‘We’re almost there,’ Hiro said.
‘Are you sure?’ Jack asked.
A huge shape loomed in front of them, and Hiro swung the vessel to narrowly miss the tower. ‘I’m certain,’ he said.
Fujita’s building was a circular shaft, made from iron and glass. The penthouse was half dome and half rooftop garden. The teardrop-shaped landing pad hung off the side, pointing south. Lights were on inside, but whoever was home wouldn’t be able to see the dragonfly through the mist and rain.
Mr Doyle took Jack’s arm. ‘My boy,’ he said. ‘I can go first, if you wish.’
Jack smiled. ‘But I have a better chance of succeeding.’
&n
bsp; Even Scarlet looked worried. ‘Jack,’ she said. ‘In case things go wrong...in case this doesn’t work...’ Staring into his eyes, she leant forward and planted a kiss on his lips. ‘Be careful.’
At any other time, Jack’s head would have exploded with excitement, but now he simply nodded. One wrong slip and…no more Jack Mason.
Hiro descended to the ninety-eighth level and rounded the building to a section marked on the map as Storage. Fighting to keep the dragonfly twenty feet from the tower, Hiro nodded to Mr Doyle.
The detective lifted an oversized gun from the floor as Scarlet indicated a darkened window.
‘That’s it!’ she yelled.
Mr Doyle leant out the window. ‘Keep us steady!’
He fired the gun. A metal arrow with a rope attached flew across the gap and smashed through the window. It stuck fast to a wall inside the room. As the detective secured the rope to the dragonfly, Jack attached a safety clip from his belt to the line.
Jack eased himself from the cabin and started dragging himself across the gap. He tried not to think about the mile separating him from the ground. If he released the rope, the safety clip would save him, but nothing could be done if Hiro lost control of the dragonfly or the arrow pulled loose.
Hauling himself across the gap, Jack finally climbed into the storage room. Out of the howling gale, the tower’s interior was strangely quiet. He checked the arrow. They were lucky. It had impaled itself firmly into a wall. It would not break free.
After signalling to the others, Jack watched Mr Doyle and Scarlet cross then helped them into the room.
‘My goodness,’ Scarlet said, breathless. ‘Brinkie would be proud.’
‘I’m sure she would,’ Jack said.
Hiro had to keep the dragonfly stationary while they searched for Edgar Doyle. Jack didn’t envy him his task.
Mr Doyle eased open the door. Beyond lay a corridor with a barrel roof, lit only by tiny gas lights. Wordlessly, they followed it to the end. There were fire stairs, but according to Sato, these were alarmed. Jack, Scarlet and Mr Doyle forced the elevator doors open, revealing a shaft stretching all the way to the bottom.
The Lost Sword Page 11