15

It was a fun, lazy rest of the day. Well, lazy in comparison to dashing about subterranean libraries or evading top security at Scotland Yard. And it felt good to be away from the Magic Circle.

They spent the hours wandering between parks and cafés, Jonny spending all his pocket money on a spicy bean-burger the size of a jet engine, which – similar to a jet engine – was really rather hot and would no doubt end in significant gas propulsion out of one end at some point fairly soon.

Finding a quiet spot in Hyde Park, Sophie, Jonny and Zack took it in turns to show Alex several basic but bamboozling effects with ropes, coins, cups and dice, only pausing briefly to go and check the afternoon headlines scrolling across the adverts at Piccadilly Circus.

No … nothing about a foiled bank plot – not yet at least.

Alex couldn’t have hoped for better tutors. Each contributed something different: Jonny – a master of patter, presentation and posture (charming, fresh and bold); Zack – technical dexterity, originality and misdirection (quick, different, beguiling); Sophie – psychology, body language and eye contact (nuanced, natural and focused).

‘Don’t forget to project, Alex – and smiiiiile, remember!’

‘Just watch your angle when you’re performing that muscle pass, Alex.’

‘Everything about your posture and attitude should suggest where the coin isn’t – that’s the real secret to this effect.’

A jogger watched with interest as Alex successfully cut and restored rope, stacked dice one on top of the other in a flash, and produced coins out of thin air.

Sophie, Zack and Jonny were pleased to see their new friend performing the routines with growing confidence and dexterity. Surely he could get through the audition now. Not that this should be a mantra for life, but if Steve and Jane could do it …

Alex repaid the favour by teaching the others some of his favourite and most complex card effects, confounding them with his sleight of hand and passionate explanations of how the tricks were actually done.

The four finally headed back to Piccadilly Circus, sleepy but happy after their peaceful, sun-soaked magical afternoon, looking up at the screens for the day’s latest news, hopeful, expectant and a touch trepidatious.

And there it was … right next to an advert for an unnecessarily shiny watch and a bright energy drink.

Zack let out a yelping cry of joy, startling a pack of tourists, who ran for cover in Fortnum & Mason. In large letters, the huge headline shone down in dazzling red, white and blue at the throng of excited people gathered below, showering the crowd in dazzling light.

BREAKING NEWS: NATION’S GOLD SAVED!

And then, with a jolt like you might get on a fairground ride if there was a sudden power cut, Zack realized that he’d been well and truly had.

The others saw this too as they watched, increasingly sullen-faced, while the headlines scrolled across the bottom of the screen:

DI CAULFIELD – THE GENIUS WHO SOLVED THE GREATEST MAGIC TRICK EVER SEEN

And then, as if to rub it in further, the entire set of ginormous monitors was filled with the cheesy, immaculate face of the man himself, smiling down at them, waving, flaring out his lips saucily, making sure he was at just the right angle –

‘NO!’ exclaimed Zack. ‘He’s stolen my idea!’

They watched in dismay as the crowd around them nodded their heads, impressed. How dare he not credit us! Zack thought.

To add insult to injury, digitized animated drawings of Zack’s very own handiwork, depicting how the thieves had set up the replica vault, were now on display. DI Caulfield’s voice played loudly through the speakers:

‘Well, it’s really rather straightforward when you think about it. I simply told myself to think laterally, and then it just came to me.’ He flashed a grin at the female reporter before carrying on. ‘Obviously, everyone’s hugely relieved we got to the real Bank of England vault just in time, but our main concern is that these tricky thieves are still at large. Who knows what they might be planning next.’

The detective put on a sad face, before giving the reporter the tiniest fleck of a wink and handing her a business card, which blatantly had a personal message written on the back in deep, voluptuous red.

Sophie watched his lips as he mouthed something to her. Oh please – what a creep!

‘I’m sorry, Zack, mate,’ said Jonny eventually, putting an arm round his shoulder.

‘It’s just so unfair!’ said Zack, his voice cracking. ‘Why should he get all the glory?’

It was tough. Finally Zack had something that might have put him in the spotlight – and in a good way for once! Something that might have turned things around for him with the Magic Circle. But no, the ‘proper authorities’ had to go and take it away from him.

‘We still know it was you who solved it,’ said Alex.

That was true, thought Zack. He really did have a very special bunch of friends here.

‘So the thieves are still out there,’ mused Jonny. ‘And if they’ve got The Thieves’ Almanac, you can bet they’ll already be planning something else.’

‘I wonder how they felt about being rumbled out of the blue,’ said Sophie as they wandered towards Charing Cross Station.

‘Well, it serves them right,’ reasoned Zack who, despite all his annoyance at DI Caulfield for stealing his thunder, was ultimately delighted that his powers of deduction had foiled the thieves’ plot just in time.

‘Not that the crooks themselves have been caught yet,’ added Jonny darkly.

Alex looked over his shoulder. It was almost a reflex, a throwback to his playground days when he’d have to be on the lookout for anyone from Ben Beeston’s gang that might be tracking him. Constantly on edge, sometimes cricking his neck painfully in the process, checking whether there was someone standing behind him ready to hurl abuse his way or not. Strangely, despite the pleasant day they’d had, Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He turned round again as they descended the steps into the Underground.

‘Hey, fancy popping into Davenport’s to cheer you up?’ asked Jonny, smiling at Zack.

‘Oh wow! Davenport’s Magic Studio?’ asked Sophie, her eyes lighting up. ‘Is that down here?’*

‘Sure is!’ Jonny beamed.

Just off to the left, Alex could make out the greasy green entranceway to what looked like a store only adults were allowed into.

‘Maybe another time,’ said Zack, still feeling despondent. ‘I never thought I’d say this, but I think I’ve had enough of magic for one day.’

Wow, thought Jonny. Things must be really bad.

All of a sudden they heard running footsteps, ragged breath and shouts behind them, the noise bouncing off the walls.

Alex turned as Henry – HENRY! – came hurtling round the corner past Davenport’s, his cheek bruised, one eye puffy. ‘What the –?’

‘Henry?’ Zack was freaked. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘Help!’ screamed Henry as he reached them and stood there panting. ‘They thought I was one of you – one of your little gang!’ the strange boy spat fearfully. He thrust a bloodied brown envelope into Zack’s hand. ‘I’m begging you … Just do as they say!’

He turned and stumbled away up the stairs, leaving the Young Magicians in a daze.

‘What on earth was all that about?’ Zack looked nervously around the now-deserted underpass.

‘And what’s in there?’ asked Jonny, pointing at the crumpled and stained envelope in Zack’s hand.

All of a sudden Alex started croaking, the sound slowly coming together to form words. ‘There … there’s a …’

‘What is it, Alex?’ asked Sophie, taking his arm.

‘There’s … There’s a man looking out of the window at us,’ he whispered, pale with fright. He was staring at Davenport’s.

Sophie, Jonny and Zack slowly turned as metal shutters began to descend, obscuring the grey face of a hobbity-looking man now staring at them from behind the grimy glass. He lowered his face, continuing to watch them as the shutters dropped to the floor, barring him inside.

‘Oh, that’s … just Alton who runs the shop,’ said Zack, trying to sound unconcerned – though in truth somewhat unsettled by the man’s prolonged haunted stare.

‘Probably disturbed by all the noise,’ added Jonny casually. ‘Henry sure likes drama, doesn’t he!’

They all headed back up the stairs, glad to hear sounds of life above ground.

‘So …’ said Sophie, looking from Zack to the envelope and back again. ‘Are you going to open it, or …?’

He slowly peeled back the flap of the envelope, being careful not to rip the thin grainy paper. He delicately inserted his hand, pulling out a sheet of thick, yellowing parchment with his fingertips, peering into the envelope to check he hadn’t missed anything, like it was his birthday and he was expecting a voucher. Along one side of the parchment was a roughly torn edge, followed by a thin margin and then – in jet-black ink – tiny spidery writing, scrawled all about the page, interspersed with hastily drawn pernickety sketches of bank vaults, ropes and pulleys. Beautiful in many respects, an antique perhaps, but somehow somewhat sinister. What on earth was it? And why had Henry delivered it to them?

Zack recognized the writing – the drawings too – but where had he seen them before? And then – in a flooding wave of excitement – he realized what it was they were looking at.

‘These are the same as my drawings,’ he said in a hoarse, incredulous voice.

‘But this has been taken from a book,’ said Sophie, spotting the page number (13) at the bottom of the page and running her finger along the torn edge. ‘Why would a book contain the same –?’

But before she could finish, Zack interrupted, grabbing her hand excitedly. ‘This is a page from The Thieves’ Almanac!’