9
Morning!
Sophie walked cautiously through the mist along Stephenson Way. A passing commuter appeared out of the air, like a bored zombie, barely noticing her, his eyes glassy from decades of staring at the computer, and now fixed on the screen of his phone beeping mercilessly at him with more reminders and chores, his suit creased in the same way it had been since the mid-nineties, his hair dishevelled from another late night on Excel.
Sophie shivered, pulling her Parka tight as she rounded the corner and approached the blue door of the Magic Circle. She could just make out Alex, Zack and Jonny standing in line, in height order – looking like one of those posters showing the evolution of man – suspended in the foggy air.
‘Lovely morning!’ said Zack in a hushed voice as she approached.
‘Well, hopefully it means we won’t be seen,’ she said, giving Alex a wave.
‘And how was the hotel, darling?’ asked Jonny, chomping on a banana, his head quite literally lost in the clouds above. ‘Don’t they think it’s a bit weird you’re there all on your own?’
‘Well,’ said Sophie, a mischievous look in her eye, ‘I may have used some of my powers of suggestion to get round that!’
‘Tell, now!’ Jonny loved the sound of this.
‘Well, I’ve hypnotized the staff into believing I’m about forty-five.’
‘Jeez, Sophie!’ said Zack, laughing out loud. ‘Is that even legal? Where do your parents think you’re staying?’
‘Dad’s not around,’ said Sophie, casually piercing a carton of orange juice with the straw, ‘but my mum thinks I’m on a school trip for the week. It’s fine. If she finds out, I’ll just hypnotize her until she forgets all about it – I usually test stuff like that out on her anyway.’ She popped the straw in her mouth, draining the carton in one.
Jonny and Zack shook their heads. They’d spoken about this formidable new acquaintance of theirs on their way home the day before. She was one of a kind. Their kind, Zack figured. Or ‘Completely and utterly ace!’ as Jonny had put it.
‘And how about you, Alex?’ asked Sophie. ‘Not get much sleep last night?’
He scrunched up his brow. How did she know? How did she know he’d spent most of the night awake, fretting over his locks and picks like he now had something to prove?
‘Oh, it’s quite obvious if you think about it,’ answered Sophie, clearly reading his reaction. ‘Bags under the eyes, the creased coat collar suggesting that you had a thirty-minute doze leaning against the window on your way in from Kings Langley, the oil on your fingers – no doubt from some late-night practice with a grubby padlock …’
Alex grinned. Despite his nerves, his first day at the Magic Circle had been one of the most exhilarating of his life. And even though he was anxious about what might lie ahead, so long as it was with these three, then he figured it was worth it.
‘We should probably get on,’ said Zack, glancing at his watch. ‘We’ve got less than two hours before everyone arrives.’
‘Good luck, mate!’ Jonny said to Alex encouragingly.
‘We’ll shield you – take your time,’ added Zack.
Alex gulped. Here goes! He’d learned to pick locks on holiday with his parents after they’d ‘accidentally’ locked him in his room for a period that happened to coincide with happy hour at the hotel bar. Little did they know that Alex had almost immediately picked the door lock and had spent the evening in the hotel swimming pool.
He pulled out a small thin metal tool shaped a bit like a bone you might find in a chicken, although – unless the chicken had had some kind of major operation or was actually a robotic chicken from the future – it’s unlikely you’d find this kind of metallic implement inside a hen carcass. Kneeling down, he carefully inserted one end into the keyhole, slowly rotating it, delicately sussing out the locking mechanism.
Zack, Sophie and Jonny had formed a screen around Alex – a bit like when family members gather round when you’ve got to get out of your swimming costume on the beach, which kind of works but pretty much always contains a load of embarrassing gaps.
Zack nodded politely as a passer-by raised his head from the morning papers to stare at them, the gent’s fingers already grubby with ink from the stocks-and-shares pages, his eyes roaming suspiciously as he spotted the soles of Alex’s shoes sticking out under Jonny’s lanky frame, making it look like Jonny had four feet.
‘It’s a condition he has,’ Sophie said confidently, clicking her fingers at him.
Suitably confounded, the passer-by passed by into the mist.
‘How are you getting on, Alex?’ Zack whispered.
Alex had his eyes closed, feeling his way through a series of pins, plugs and levers, searching for the right kind of resistance, listening for a faint click.
Just another three millimetres to the left and …
‘There!’ Alex said softly, feeling a huge gush of relief as it gave way. The lock slid across smoothly, the door opening and sucking in a waft of cool air.
Sophie, Jonny and Zack turned round as Alex looked up at them like a cheeky street urchin.
‘Nice work!’ said Jonny.
‘And so quick as well!’ Sophie helped him up.
Alex blushed as he hastily put the tool back in his coat pocket, shying away from the compliments.
‘OK then,’ said Zack, patting Alex on the back. ‘Let’s do this. On three, two, one …’
They entered quickly, the mist curling in around them, suitably obscuring their business from the growing mass of zombies going about their morning rituals on Stephenson Way, and heaved it shut with a deep, echoing thud.
They were inside!
And alone …
Ish!
The four stood in the weak light, absorbing the increasingly familiar surroundings.
Jonny lit a match (he had a torch, but this felt WAY more exciting), the flame sending their silhouettes dancing around the hall.
‘Is there anybody with us?’ he called out spookily, holding the match under his chin so that his face was in shadow – before removing it promptly when it seemed he might sustain third-degree burns.
As if on cue, a current of cold air extinguished the flickering flame, cooling Jonny’s singed chin.
Zack shivered and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t good in the mornings: he often resorted to sleeping in his school uniform and forgoing breakfast just for those extra few minutes in bed. Which meant he always looked somewhat bedraggled and felt RAVENOUS! But this morning he’d been up like a shot, keen to embrace the day; keen to see his three new friends again, keen to solve an impossible crime, keen to play a part in saving this failing society. He’d even managed a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, beans, tomatoes, hash browns, mushrooms, cereal, granola, digestive biscuits, buttered baps, a Petit Filou, cold pizza from the night before, some leftover lamb tagine, hummus, a plastic cheese slice and seven of his five-a-day – all of which took precisely ninety minutes to prepare and one hour to devour (meaning that Zack Harrison had actually been banging around the kitchen since 3.30 a.m. – a personal best). Still, at least he wouldn’t get hungry any time soon!
Jonny lit another match, this time placing it on his upturned left palm; it flared up, lighting the entrance hall. ‘One of Granddad’s!’ he said.
Sophie smiled up at him: with his palm held aloft, he was almost indistinguishable from his granddad in the photo they’d seen. ‘Right, which way?’ she asked.
‘My granddad said we were near the library when we were in the council chamber,’ Jonny told her.
‘Of course!’ Sophie was already moving off along the dusky corridor. ‘I bet it’s down that second set of spiral stairs then – come on!’
The boys hurried after her, hopscotching to avoid the ever-increasing number of mousetraps. Alex was particularly glad to see no sign of yesterday’s giant rat, other than an impressive display of his huge droppings – as big a hint as any that he was still knocking about the place eating his body weight in whatever rats ate. Still, no time to dawdle.
They soon reached the pink door of the Junior Room, now bolted shut with four massive padlocks.
‘OK,’ said Zack. ‘We’ve got just under two hours before we need to be right back here.’ He checked his watch.
‘Surely that’s enough time,’ said Jonny, blowing out the dwindling flame on his palm and finally removing the small torch from his rucksack.
‘Yes, but we don’t know where we’re going or what we’re looking for!’ Sophie reminded him.
How difficult could it be to find a mythical volume amongst the world’s biggest collection of magic books? Alex wondered.
They tiptoed further down the corridor, recalling with growing unease the dramatic events in the Grand Theatre the day before.
‘OK, so how do we go about this?’ Sophie had reached the curtained opening and turned to face the boys, a faint whiff of trepidation in her voice.
She silently parted the red curtain to reveal the ‘painting’ of the entrance underneath and peered through – destroying the illusion in an instant.
‘The stairwell is just the other side of the auditorium,’ said Zack, joining her. ‘If we make a run for it and stay quiet, hopefully we won’t wake … whatever it was in there yesterday.’
The others nodded, breathing deeply, readying themselves for a sprint.
‘OK, now!’ said Jonny in his best stage whisper.
They whizzed into the theatre, marvelling at its size once again before quickly getting their bearings. ‘This way!’ Zack beckoned as he made his way across the stalls towards the small green door.
Sophie took a moment to look around, her eyes darting about in the dim house light, scouring, searching for any signs of life (or afterlife).
Nothing.
‘Coming through!’ Jonny bounded across the theatre in no more than twelve long strides, reaching the green door first. He opened it carefully, craning his neck round the crusty frame.
Nothing.
Sophie, Zack and Alex joined him in a tangled clump and stood there, panting.
Alex glanced briefly back into the theatre. Was that a …? No. Nothing!
‘Shall we?’ said Jonny, shutting the green door behind them and leaping on to the banister rail.
Sophie and Zack clambered aboard enthusiastically, helping Alex up once more before plunging and twisting down into the depths.
‘Don’t forget to get off at the next landing!’ warned Sophie over the rushing air as soon as she felt herself slowing down.
They came to a stop next to the double-sided cupboard, hopping off one by one, their legs like jelly. ‘I think let’s keep out of here?’ said Zack, tapping the cupboard door and startling a mummy and daddy spider canoodling inside, infuriating them wildly. (Someone – probably some local woodlouse – was going to pay for this later!)
‘Right,’ said Sophie, dusting herself down. She reached for Jonny’s torch and shone it down the second set of stairs that wound off into the distance in a wide spiral. ‘This way, I think …’
The four crept forward, hugging the outer stone wall, not daring to get too close to the crumbling edge.
No chance of sliding down this banister, thought Alex, relieved to see that large parts of it had already crumbled away, which in fact wasn’t that relieving in the slightest.
‘Or, guys, we could just pop in here,’ said Jonny casually, stopping a few steps down and pointing at a wooden door set into the curved wall.
Sophie shone the torch where Jonny was standing. In luxurious writing the word LIBRARY had been carved beautifully into the wood, filled in with striking gold leaf. And then, underneath – as if to deliberately undermine the ornate finish – someone had stuck a large laminated sheet of bright lilac card pedantically listing the opening times and guidelines on how to use the library’s loan system. It goes without saying that at 7.20 on a Tuesday morning this library was very much CLOSED thank you.
‘So … wh-what do you think is all the way down there, then?’ said Alex, still peering over the edge of the echoey chasm.
‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll find out another day!’ said Zack playfully as Alex drew back from the gaping gulf.
They all squeezed into the doorway, Jonny scrunching up his head, shoulders, knees and toes,* trying to fit.
‘Hmm – we might need your lock-picking skills again, if that’s OK, Alex,’ said Zack, moving aside to give him some space.
Alex edged his way to the front, turning this way and that – like one of the bits in Tetris – angling round Jonny’s jagged frame – and knelt down. He patted the area around the keyhole with his fingers, scrutinizing the lock.
Zack grinned at Sophie and Jonny. Breaking and entering!
Just as Alex was reaching for his tools, the door suddenly wafted open. Alex was up like a shot, backing into the other three. ‘That wasn’t me!’ he shrilled in a small, frightened voice. ‘It … It must have already been open.’
The others looked at each other. ‘Strange … it’s not locked.’ Zack felt the sides of the door, examining the frame. ‘Hey, look – someone’s been at this before!’
Sophie and Jonny now saw that the area around the lock was covered in scratches. ‘Well, whoever did this was pretty clumsy. Not a patch on your handiwork, Alex,’ said Sophie, trying to encourage him.
Alex’s mind was already racing: who could have come trespassing before them?
Alf?
Werewolves …?
That’s enough now, Alex!
‘Well,’ concluded Jonny. ‘These marks look like they were made some time ago, so I’m sure whoever did this is long gone.’
‘Let’s just keep quiet all the same,’ said Zack, creeping forward through the doorway.
At once they were surrounded by the sweet, succulent smell of books.* Now, it might seem obvious to say that the library was full of books – but, well, the library was full of books.
However, this was a library unlike any they had ever seen before. It was nothing like his school library, Jonny thought, which – on a good day – might contain a couple of books about the agricultural revolution and an encyclopaedia about growing up (with suitably patronizing ‘anatomical’ illustrations, including several pop-up bits).
No, this library was absolutely crammed with magic books. Tall books, zigzag-shaped books, books as small as playing cards; illustrated books, theoretical books; books about billiard balls, books about balloon animals, books about illusions, books about other books, books on books on books about other books; books stacked upright, books stacked sideways, upside-down books, books with fancy tassels – a proper hodgepodge of conjuring books; a dry-stone wall of books, all interlocking perfectly, filling every possible space.
Jonny imagined the librarian getting a new book, measuring its dimensions with a protractor and a set square, before locating the perfect spot along a shelf and popping it in.
Sophie looked around in the dim reddish light – used to protect ageing tomes, she remembered from her science lessons.
They were standing on a wrought-iron balcony, overlooking a vast cathedral-like room, the starting point for a network of walkways and steps that all led off into a maze of shelves. Inscribed into the wood at the ends of the shelves were the finest names in magic: Acer, Ainley, Anneman, Aronson … Next shelf: Berglas, Blackstone, Bongo, Brown …
Even though he’d heard rumours that the Magic Circle library was big, Zack was astounded to find such a vast place beneath the streets of central London. It was the size of a football pitch, but on multiple levels. An entire stadium of magic books!
Alex’s eyes jumped from one shelf to the other: Calvert, Cardini, Cooper, Curry … Daniels, Davenport, Dunninger, Dynamo. He stood, enchanted, soaking up the thick papery air – surely this was reason enough to become a member of the Magic Circle? It was the most beautiful library he had ever seen. Magician or not, who wouldn’t want to get lost in this world of work on wizardry?
‘So, where do we start?’ said Sophie quietly. ‘Left, right, up, down, straight ahead – anyone got a preference?’ Her eyes flew over the complex of steps, walkways and ladders turning every which way – a proper 3D labyrinth.
Jonny scanned the ceiling. ‘There!’ he said, pointing to a small arrow almost obscured by the top of shelf E (Eason, Elmsley, Erdnase); it was attached to a beam by a couple of small chains, embossed with the words RESTRICTED SECTION: THIS WAY!
They raced forward excitedly, trying to keep an eye on the arrow as they rounded corners, retracing their steps whenever they came to a dead end or lost sight of it.
Shelves of books flew by (Fischbacher, Gellar, Hugard …). Jonny scrambled up a thin ladder, a mound of periodicals (Ibidem) piled precariously alongside, arching almost impossibly on to the top of shelf J (Joshua). The others struggled to keep up – Zack regretting a shortcut between shelves K (Kaps, Kellar, Klok) and L (Lorayne, Losander, Lovell), which were so jam-packed he could barely get through.
Some of the names Sophie hadn’t even heard of. Knowing there was no time to stop now, she tried to form a mental list. Look at all the stuff she was missing! Malone, Nixon, Okito, Page … Even an entire shelf dedicated to material by magicians with surnames beginning with Q! Who ever heard of a single magician with a surname beginning with Q?
Bringing up the rear, Alex glanced over his shoulder at the crisscrossing honeycomb of aisles, platforms and shelves, dizzied by the intricate mosaic of books – how would they ever find their way back? Oh, who even cares? he thought, surprising himself; all he needed in life was right here: a mound of magic books and three great friends!
‘This way!’ called Jonny from up ahead. ‘We’re nearly there!’
Alex passed shelves bursting with Rowling, Shaxon and Thurston. He slowed to a walking pace past Uri, Vernon, Welles and Lount (filed here because Mr Lount once marketed an effect called ‘Xray Xtra’). To his right he spotted an autobiography on Ying & Yang (a paperback, rather thin account of Steve and Jane’s life, still in its cellophane packaging), before finally coming to a stop alongside shelf Z – a rather large manual on false shuffles by Herb Zarrow.
Panting slightly, Alex studied the book, intrigued, slowly reaching out his hand –
‘Freeze!’ Zack’s voice was cushioned by the sea of books.
Alex turned to face him, his hand frozen in mid-air, ready to grasp the book; the hairs on the back of his neck were beginning to prickle. What on earth was it now? It wasn’t even night-time. Surely scary things didn’t happen first thing in the morning. Immediately his mind started to fill with images of hooded figures approaching in the dim red lighting …
Sophie and Jonny turned to see where Zack was now looking, his eyes trained on the ceiling way up above where Alex was stood.
Oh wow …
Oh Jeez …
Oh NO!
Hundreds upon hundreds of tiny threads descended from the ceiling – a web of wires connecting each book in what was surely one of the most intricate and archaic alarm systems ever devised!
‘Oh, man, you’ve got to be kidding …’ whispered Jonny, unnerved and impressed. ‘This must have taken someone ages!’
‘Well, let’s not find out if it works!’ said Sophie in a low voice, worried about what each of these million fine tripwires might trigger should a book be removed from its shelf.
Alex moved away from Mr Zarrow’s manual on false shuffles and joined the others.
‘Let’s just take things a bit more slowly from now on,’ said Zack.
Ahead of them was a cordoned-off aisle, at the end of which they could make out a dark-green cabinet, its doors shut and – judging by its appearance – locked.
Zack looked at the plaque mounted proudly above the cabinet: RESTRICTED SECTION: YOU ARE HERE!
‘But surely this is too easy …’ Sophie’s brow was furrowed. ‘If books on false shuffles and balloon animals are alarmed, then why is the restricted section so easily accessible?’
She was right, thought Zack. This stank of misdirection. There had to be more to it than … this.
‘What’s that?’ said Jonny suddenly, putting a finger to his lips. They all stood there, ears tuned to the creaking, whining sound of … What was that?
It sounded to Sophie like the squeak of rusty wheels, made even creepier by the slowness of the pace. This wasn’t someone aiming to give them a shock; this was no Alf. This person knew how to build suspense, scaring them gradually, working them up into a fearful frenzy as the sound got louder and louder, closer and closer.
They all looked around frantically, peering into the red haze. There were a billion hiding places, but they couldn’t pinpoint where the noise was coming from.
It was Jonny who spotted it first, crying out loudly and then quickly covering his mouth to stop anything else from coming out.
He could make out the form of a strange-looking figure above them, his head hanging low, seated at an oak desk and gliding down from what was fast becoming an inexplicable ceiling full of countless surprises.
The four gawped, bewitched and trembling, as they watched the man and his desk, slowly falling like a ball-bearing travelling through thick treacle. A network of pulleys manoeuvred him into position, depositing him on the floor with a soft thud.
On the desk lay a small nameplate:
LIBRARIAN
‘Whoa, what an entrance!’ whispered Jonny quietly from in between his fingers.
They all stood there, bunched together like penguins protecting their young, desperately trying to work out what to say.
‘Ex-excuse me,’ stammered Sophie after about thirty seconds – which is actually rather a long time when you’re facing someone who’s just floated (yes, that’s right, floated!) down from the ceiling of a library and who hasn’t yet looked up. Awkward!
Suddenly the librarian twitched to life with a series of jagged movements, whirs and clicks. Inch by inch, his head angled up – juddering and stuttering – as he rose from his seat like someone with far too many bones, all of which needed replacing.
They all took a step back in shock as they studied the metal face before them.
‘Cool! It’s an automaton!’ exclaimed Zack, moving forward to get a closer look.
‘An automa-what?’ asked Jonny, still cautious.
‘An automaton,’ repeated Zack as he studied the librarian closely. ‘A robot, basically, but from Victorian times.’
Sophie waved her hand in front of its face, but the unblinking eyes gave nothing away; it looked neither happy nor sad, neither knowledgeable nor confused, neither amiable nor ANNOYED!
‘He looks a bit like my old violin teacher!’ said Jonny as Alex leaned forward to touch the lank, lifeless hair. He shuddered.
On the desk in front of the librarian was a small silver bell, next to which was another plaque with the words PLEASE RING FOR ATTENTION. Zack looked at the others, raising an eyebrow, his hand hovering.
At nods from the others, he lowered his hand on to the icy metal ringer.
Alex winced at the tinny sound, afraid of what it might summon next. He scanned the ceiling for anything else that might descend from the heavens at the sound of the automaton’s bell. Bloodied spikes? An elephant? Milk?!
No.
Not this time anyway.
Instead, a stubby piece of brown paper – the sort that you might receive when visiting a steam-train museum – shot out of the automaton’s mouth with a faint shush.
Sophie reached forward and removed the slip, then read the text out loud:
‘Quiet please! Only President Pickle and those approved by Council have access to the restricted section of the library and must demonstrate their status by answering the following question.’
The automaton began to twitch as a second slip – longer than the first – shot out of its mouth. Sophie removed it carefully, like a dentist’s assistant.
‘Robert-Houdin is renowned for being 1) an escapologist, 2) an actor, or 3) a magician? Please lift my left thumb if you think the answer is one, my left forefinger if you think the answer is two, or extend my left middle finger for answer three.’
They looked at one another, thinking hard, as a third piece of paper emerged from the gaping mouth, hanging there like a decaying tongue. Zack pulled this slip free, reading out loud:
‘Trespassers BEWARE! Make a mistake and you’ll come to a crushing end!’
Craning their necks, they looked fearfully up at the ceiling again.
Just above them was now a huge net of books – Tarbell’s entire hardback course in magic, to be precise; a series famed for its completeness and accounting for some of the heaviest and largest books on magic ever produced. It hung there monstrously, the net bulging and swaying lightly from side to side.
‘Let’s get the answer to this correct, then!’ said Jonny.
‘Was Robert-Houdin Houdini’s real name?’ asked Zack, looking at Sophie. ‘If so, then the answer must be number one – escapologist.’
‘No, surely that’s what they want us to think …’ Sophie was staring at the slip of paper. ‘Anyway, wasn’t Houdini’s real name Erik Weisz?’
‘OK, well then, the answer must be number three,’ said Jonny, looking at Alex for confirmation. ‘Wasn’t Robert-Houdin the magician who could make an orange tree grow live on stage?’
Alex nodded, and Sophie agreed. ‘Hmm. Yes … he was. That must be it, then. Robert-Houdin was a magician, plain and simple.’
‘Sure?’ said Zack, reaching towards the librarian cautiously.
Sophie nodded. But then … Was there something she was missing? It just all seemed a bit too easy. Perhaps it was a bluff.
‘OK, so in that case we need to extend his left middle finger,’ said Zack uneasily, looking down at the librarian’s metallic palm face down on the desk, his fingers curled inwards slightly, his angular knuckle jutting out like an armoured glove.
Just as Zack touched the rusting hand, Sophie yelled, ‘Wait!’ causing them all to jump. ‘It’s a trick question! It’s answer two – we need to lift his left forefinger.’
The others turned to look at her. ‘He was an actor? What …? Why?’ said Jonny.
Sophie beamed at them. ‘Don’t you remember the famous quote?’ They all stared blankly at her. ‘In one of his books Robert-Houdin said that a magician is in fact an actor playing the part of a magician – therefore Robert-Houdin was renowned for being an actor. It’s answer number two.’
The three boys grinned back at her. She sure was good, was this one!
Sneaky librarian – shame on you!
Zack reached forward and lifted the left forefinger slowly, feeling a slight resistance before the finger gave way with a painful click. At once the automaton sprang to life again, its clockwork heart whirring deep within its chest.
The four moved back a few steps, alarmed to see that the net above simply moved with them, like it was able to track their every step. They raised their arms above their heads, readying themselves for an onslaught of Tarbell – a crash course in magic!
But thankfully no such onslaught came. They were in the clear.
Slowly spluttering, like a car low on petrol, the automaton – along with the desk – rotated a full ninety degrees anticlockwise. The librarian’s mechanical arm rose shakily, pointing to the green cabinet, which had now opened up with a definite click. Permission granted!
They walked gingerly down the aisle towards the cabinet as the automaton creaked its way back up into the ceiling, along with the deadly net of books.
Way more interesting than your bog-standard library lending system with its boring stamps, loans and fines, thought Zack. Wires, pulleys, robotic staff and the threat of immediate expulsion and imminent death – now, that’s what everyone wants from their local library!
The others watched as Zack pulled the cabinet doors open, desperate for their first glimpse of the notorious Thieves’ Almanac.
Inside, neatly arranged in decreasing order of size, were more books on magic: rare first editions, signed copies of lecture notes, a pamphlet on sexy magic (whatever that was), several books on ‘bizarre magick’ verging on the paranormal, and then, staring them in the face on the bottom shelf, about a third of the way across – a gaping hole, the width of a book. In its place a red bookmark poked out angrily, shining boastfully in the glaring light.
Sophie removed it slowly, as the others held on to each other, too excited to breathe. Scrawled along it were the words:
The Thieves’ Almanac – missing since last April, presumed STOLEN!
And then, on the other side – almost as an afterthought – was the addendum:
Probably by Zack Harrison!