19
Once again Alex had gone straight to his room (successfully bypassing his parents’ bi-weekly wine-and-cheese evening) and spent his time swotting up on all sorts of medieval picks, practising on his wardrobe door and the rusty padlock he’d found in the garage. The thing with old locks, Alex was quickly finding out, was that, like a good cheese, they got better with age, what with the build-up of all the rust and grime. He sighed as, taking his penknife and a large stick, he tried to fashion some kind of pick. The pop of his parents opening another bottle of thick red wine sounded downstairs. Oh well, the night is young!
Jonny had once again travelled home via his granddad’s, but just as before had been greeted with the faded red curtains drawn tightly across the windows, the only signs of life that of the evening birdsong drifting between the hedges of the front garden. He turned away, resolving to give Ernest a call later.
‘Jonathan?’ a voice whispered behind him.
Jonny turned back; his granddad was peering out from behind the half-closed front door.
‘Can I … help with anything?’
Jonny looked into the old man’s tired eyes. There was something in the way his granddad was standing that didn’t seem quite right, something that was twisting his body, shielding one side from view, making him look suddenly very frail and vulnerable. ‘I’m afraid I was just about to turn in for the night.’
For a fleeting second Jonny wanted to tell his granddad everything that had happened since the day before: their run-in with Henry, the thieves’ horrible note, their suspicions about President Pickle – everything. He knew that the other three wouldn’t mind. After all, if it weren’t for Ernest, they would have been banned from the Magic Circle two days ago. And they could sure benefit from the man’s ingenious magical mind with the Tower of London break-in. But no, figured Jonny, it was all too dangerous for even his granddad. They would have to tackle it alone. And in secret.
‘I just wanted to check that you were OK,’ said Jonny eventually. ‘We missed seeing you today.’
Ernest gave him a smile, looking more like his old self. ‘Well, I’m never far away, Jonathan – just remember that.’
And he quietly closed the door.
Having grabbed a plateful of breaded whatever-they-were-meant-to-be things from the hotel buffet, Sophie headed for her freshly cleaned bedroom. She plugged herself into a set of headphones and sat at the old-fashioned desk, which had been decked out to look like something belonging to Sherlock Holmes.
She sat back on the cushioned seat as the sounds of the rainforest filled her ears, helping her to focus, helping her to escape from the real world. She closed her eyes as an exotic bird called for a mate – or maybe told it to go away.
How can we be in two places at once? she wondered as the rain pattered and the thunder rumbled comfortingly in the background. Twins maybe? Body-doubles? No, too obvious! Her mother was a twin – not that that helped much: she’d barely seen much of her auntie, and her mum was all the way up in Halifax, convinced that Sophie was on a school trip! Her dad … Well, she didn’t know much about her dad sadly, except that the last time she’d laid eyes on him was before she could really remember anything.
No, you’re getting distracted, Sophie. Concentrate!
She scoured the books she’d packed for the journey for inspiration – Mind, Myth & Magic, NLP, The Berglas Effects – before finally picking up a biography of Houdini she’d borrowed from her local library.
Yes, Houdini, thought Sophie. He sure knew a thing or two about getting out of a tight spot! As the thunder got louder and the bird took shelter, she flicked through the pages, marvelling at the photos of a scantily clad Houdini attempting his daredevil escapes. Sophie turned to a photo of Houdini standing alongside some suited and booted bankers with huge moustaches. She read the caption at the bottom – Houdini Escapes from Magic Circle’s Impenetrable Bank Safe! Sophie turned the volume down as the bird began to squawk like it was being chased. She quickly skimmed the article on the opposite page.
Houdini amazes the world once more with latest daring escape … Audience wait with bated breath for Houdini to emerge from Magic Circle’s airtight bank safe … It took the highly regarded escapologist just over two and half hours to step free from the iron vault, proving just how difficult such a feat must be … Audience give Houdini a standing ovation for his huge, painstaking efforts …
Sophie slammed the book shut just as the rain stopped and the bird emerged jubilant from her surroundings and with several newly acquired competing mates (Sophie presumed, given all the noise). She smiled to herself, removed her headphones and put the book back in her suitcase, satisfied that she knew how to get the four of them to be in two places at once the following evening.
Damn it, Sophie, you’re good!
Zack was so swept up in a swirl of thoughts that he missed his Tube stop, meaning he’d had to take the 137 bus home. His head throbbed with questions as he plodded upstairs, armed with a huge chicken tikka sandwich. Why had the thieves been so uncharacteristically frank with them about the time and location of their next theft? Or was this presumed honesty a blatant act of dishonesty, a really basic way of leading the four astray. But then if the thieves wanted to ensnare Zack and his friends, why not simply get to them the way they’d got to Henry? he wondered. There was no need for it to be so elaborate. They were clearly very resourceful. And how did Henry really fit into all this, anyway? His ears had certainly pricked up the first time The Thieves’ Almanac was mentioned – that was a given. But then surely all Henry wanted was eternal praise and respect from the upper echelons of the Magic Circle. Was the boy perhaps trying to foil the thieves’ latest plot as well?
Now this made more sense, thought Zack, moving over to his bedroom window. What better way to ingratiate oneself further and deeper into pride of place on the Magic Circle shelf than coming up with a solution to an impossible task while simultaneously saving the Crown Jewels. Yes, perhaps that’s exactly what Henry was up to, decided Zack somewhat competitively now. But he’d got in too deep with the thieves perhaps? It still didn’t explain why the thieves had then come to the four, outlining their plan so explicitly, but still. Hmm …
Zack concentrated on the next question – which was …? Ah yes: just the small issue of how to steal the Crown Jewels … Zack tapped his head against the window. How, how, how?
He leaned backwards off the edge of the bed so that he was hanging upside down, his hair grazing the floor. ‘I just need to come at the problem from a different angle,’ he murmured to himself. What was it the guide had said in response to Sophie saying the Crown Jewels were a bit showy: I guess that’s the whole point. But what did that mean? It had triggered something in Zack’s mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
He started to retrace his way through the Bank of England problem, hoping it might help him to think laterally. OK, so … How do you break into the vault of the Bank of England?
Answer: you don’t.
Hmm.
Zack started to chant the two words out loud: ‘You don’t, you don’t, you don’t!’
OK, so how do you break into the Tower of London?
‘You don’t, you don’t, you don’t!’
Right.
OK.
Is that it …?
The upside-down Zack shook his head and tutted to himself. He gave a sigh and tried a different approach.
OK, what about why …
Why break into the Bank of England?
To steal the nation’s gold.
Why break into the Tower of London?
To steal the Crown Jewels.
Because they’re worth billions of Great British pounds, if not priceless …
Zack’s brain started to work at a crazy speed, spurred on by the blood rushing to his head, making him feel dizzy.
Why keep the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London?
Because it’s one of the most secure buildings in the country.
What would protect the Crown Jewels even better?
If this wasn’t where they were being kept at all.