The Firebird Mystery (11 page)

A sword.

The detective raced to the shattered window and flung the weapon like a javelin. It sailed through the air and struck the balloon, sticking fast. After a few seconds the effect of gravity and the movement of the airship caused it to drop, tearing the canvas. The vessel would be forced to land or risk falling from the sky.

Jack looked back one last time to see Lucy Harker and Mr Doyle standing at the edge of the building.

Good old Mr Doyle
, Jack thought, as he was carried away from the metrotower.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jack hung to the chain for dear life. He was chilled by the wind, as if he had leapt into an icy lake. It was unbearable, howling like a banshee and tearing at Jack with a mind of its own, determined to yank him free of the airship.

His weight had pulled the chain taut, but he was able to twist the length around both wrists. Jack thought it may have been used to hold the ramp in place when the ship was tethered to the ground. He didn't care. All he wanted was to escape the searing cold. All he wanted was to breathe normally.

He vowed not to look down, but he couldn't help himself. The world lay beneath him like a tapestry. He was still so high above the planet it was reduced to colours and patterns. He forced his gaze back to the metrotower. They were racing away from it and the ugly impact caused by the airship attack.

Ignatius Doyle and Lucy were getting smaller by the second. Jack also realised something else—the airship was descending. Swiftly.

I've got to hang on
, he thought.
I've got to hold on until we land.

He placed his face against the metal ramp of the airship. He needed air and he needed warmth. He struggled to fill his lungs, but something was wrong. The atmosphere was too thin. His head swam.

It occurred to Jack that he was about to die. The prospect scared him, but he would never have behaved differently—Mr Doyle had been his friend, and Jack would not let him down.

He felt terribly dizzy. Forcing himself to think of Scarlet, he promised to take her to a music hall if he ever had the chance. She was a lady, but she was different from all the other toffs. She was friendly, and kind, and…
Well, just so blinkin' beautiful
.

Dots appeared before his eyes.

If this was the end, he decided, he would envision Scarlet's face. Her eyes. So pretty. Green, they were. Two deep emerald pools...

Blackness came.

Jack woke to the feeling of water trickling down his cheeks. His hands were numb. Opening his eyes, he saw a large grey shape above him. It seemed to stretch forever. It was some sort of sailing ship.

How did he end up in this place? And his hands… they were bright purple.

What the—?

Of course. It was not a sailing ship. It was an airship. Jack looked down and saw a field of wheat about a hundred feet below him. It all came back. The metrotower. The airship attack. His leap. Hanging on to the side of the balloon.

The airship was coming in to land—and at speed, by the look of it. A hissing came from somewhere. That's right, Mr Doyle had pierced the side with that sword. Jack had to break free from the gondola and hide before the occupants exited, otherwise the ramp would descend—right on top of him.

He drew his left hand free. He tried gripping the chain. But his hand had lost all sensation so he wrapped the chain around his arm instead. He repeated the action with his other arm.

As the airship dropped, he felt the blood starting to return. He tried flexing his fingers. Good. The feeling was sluggishly coming back to them. Looking back down, he saw the ground rising. Fast.

He was sure they were about to crash until, at the last moment, the airship accelerated and shunted across the acreage. It slowed, scraping along the ground.

Time to get off.

He unwrapped his arms and let go of the chain. He hit the ground hard, letting out a cry of pain, but he continued to roll, just as his parents had taught him, until he came to a halt.

A clear blue sky spread out above him. The sun, although not hot, blazed brightly. Jack wanted to curl into a foetal position and sleep for the rest of his life. But he thought again of Scarlet and rose to his knees. He peeked over the high golden grass.

The enormous airship filled much of the field. It had made an untidy landing. The jagged hole had dealt it a mortal wound.

That's Mr Doyle for you
, he smiled.
Always thinking.

A steamtruck screeched to a halt on a dirt road running alongside the field. Tall trees lined the property, partly obscuring the airship from the outside world. Jack knew what the enemy was about to do. They were going to transport Scarlet and Mr Harker on that vehicle.

Staying low, he scampered across the field. He hoped no-one was looking in his direction, otherwise they might see the wheat moving. Finally he made it to the edge of the tall grass and hurried across the dirt road.

Jack reached an overgrown hedge. Taking refuge, he looked back to the airship. It seemed to take them a long time to do anything. He checked his coat pockets. Good. He still had the picture of his parents, his compass and the other things Mr Doyle had given him. He donned the goggles and applied magnification.

The balloon was still deflating. People were evacuating the vessel to huddle about in groups. Two people were led from the ship wearing black hoods over their heads and with their hands tied.

Scarlet and Paul Harker!

Jack's heart leapt into his throat. He would have to hide on the truck. But where?

Pocketing the goggles, he made his way along the untidy hedge. Reaching the rear of the vehicle, he kept close to the ground and peered under the truck. A big, self-contained wedge ran all the way under the vehicle.

He had never seen anything like it before, but that made no difference. There was no room to hide under it. He saw the feet of two men on the other side. The driver and a guard. A chimney poked into the air from the engine at the front. A two-man cabin sat behind it. The bed of the truck was a large empty box with a tarp at the back. It lay open and Jack glanced inside. Nowhere to hide in there, either.

There seemed to be only one place remaining.

On top of the truck
, he thought.
Or nowhere at all.

He climbed onto the truck as quietly as possible, reached up and gripped the top ledge. Taking a deep breath, he slid onto the roof. One sound and they would catch him. They might even shoot him.

He slithered along the roof, barely breathing. He heard the group from the airship heading in his direction. They were speaking that foreign lingo. What was it? German. A muffled cry came from the group, followed by the sound of a blow. Either Scarlet or Mr Harker must have protested and received a thump for it.

They drew closer and Jack felt the vehicle shift and shudder as people climbed in. The driver and his companion entered the front while others slid into the rear. There was more talking between those who were to be left behind. The steam engine chugged to life.

Jack wished he knew German. Then he would know what they were jabbering about.

The sun beat down on Jack as he gripped thin grooves in the metalwork running along the roof. The vehicle started moving, jolting along the uneven surface. The chimney was high enough so that most of the black smoke spewing from it shot straight into the air, but sometimes the breeze would send it barrelling into Jack's face. He resisted the urge to cough.

The journey was much tougher than he had expected. He felt like an egg being tossed about in a saucepan of boiling water. His head kept on jolting against the hard metal. He wanted to let go and slide off the rear of the van. Anything would be better than this constant battering. Then he thought of Scarlet and Mr Harker. He was their only hope. Without him they might both die.

Occasionally he looked up. The vehicle stuck to country roads, avoiding towns. From the sun's position in the sky, it appeared they were headed west.

As the afternoon wore on, the strain on his arms grew worse. He had barely recovered from his adventure on the balloon. Now the pain in his shoulders was growing more unbearable by the second.

The sun dropped further towards the horizon as Jack felt the exhaustion setting in. He had no idea where they were. His whole body ached, starting from his fingers and working all the way out to his shoulders and back.

He couldn't take it much longer.

Sweat dripped into his eyes as he remembered his father.

‘…must practise your movement again. There is no room for error…'

Jack hung on tighter.

‘…people in the crowd are paying for a spectacle… not for failure…'

Tears trickled down Jack's face as he struggled to hold on. He took long, ragged breaths. A cloud of smoke wafted up his nose and he fought off the urge to vomit. This was a nightmare. When would the vehicle end its journey? And when it did, how would he contact Mr Doyle?

The truck slowed. Jack looked up. To his immense surprise he saw the ocean. The sun straddled a bank of clouds on the horizon. The vehicle was either stopping at a house on the coast or was meeting a boat.

Now the truck dipped and Jack slid forward. He fanned out again and tried to grip the grooves—but his fingers would not catch. The vehicle jolted and swerved. Jack's nose collided with the roof.

‘Ooof,' he grunted.

Pain exploded across his face as if he had been punched. Exhaustion had taken its toll. He couldn't hang on.

Sweat dripped from every pore of his skin. His arms shook as trees left and right slapped at the roof. The vehicle headed down a dirt road to the ocean. When it reached the pebbles lining the seashore, Jack let out a gasp of relief. At least now the truck would stop and the kidnappers would start the next phase of their journey. Possibly he could smuggle himself aboard their boat, or find a local farmer who would contact the police.

The truck slowed to a crawl. Then Jack heard the front wheels splash into the water. The vehicle paused and Jack looked up. An island lay a few miles offshore. There were no boats. Maybe one was due to arrive in a minute.

The engine surged and the steamtruck drove at full speed into the water.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jack gasped as water rose up around the vehicle. The truck swayed from side to side. Allowing himself a backward glance he saw the pebbled shoreline. The road he had travelled down disappeared into the hills.

The engine changed as new sets of cogs and levers were brought into play. Jack felt a surge of power from the rear of the vehicle. The truck began to cut through the waves like a boat.

An image surfaced from the depths of his exhausted mind: the underside of the steamtruck had been oddly shaped. He had not given it a second thought, but he now realised that the undercarriage had been designed to do exactly this—travel across the water.

Jack found he could now relax. The ‘boat' moved far more smoothly in water. He still had to hold on, just not as tight. His stomach growled. When had he last eaten? It seemed like days, but it had really only been hours.

Waves splashed across the front of the vessel. The cold sea and the offshore wind were almost refreshing after the day's journey. Jack looked ahead. They were racing to the island. A medieval castle rose from its centre. A thick curtain of forest enveloped the rest of the land.

He laid his face flat on the roof.

Not much longer now
, he thought.
Please. Not much longer.

The vessel reached the shore, pulling into a sandy cove. It jolted once or twice, and Jack heard the shifting of cogs and gears again. After a momentary whirring of engine parts, the vessel gripped the shoreline and started up the beach.

Jack tilted his head, seeing nothing but solid rock.

Bazookas!

They were driving straight into the cliff face!

The truck slammed into the rocky wall. But, to Jack's surprise, it yielded, turning into a piece of fabric. It was a false cliff decorated the same colour as the rock. The curtain slid across the roof, the weight of which almost dragged Jack off.

They drove into a cave illuminated by flickering gas lamps. He could see the tops of shelves and drums stacked close to the ceiling as the truck drove onto a hard level surface.

The vehicle drew to a halt, jolted once, and the engine cut out. Jack could have wept with relief. He heard people disembark. At one point he made out the angry voice of Paul Harker, followed by a thump. Their captors had a long conversation in German. After a time, their footsteps headed in the direction of an open doorway leading away from the chamber.

Jack rolled onto his back. Rather than travelling on top of the truck, he wished it had simply run straight over him. It would have been less painful. Every muscle in his body ached. It seemed an eternity had passed since he had leapt from the side of the metrotower onto the airship.

He closed his eyes.

I'll just rest for a minute
, he decided.

Just a minute.

Just a…

Jack woke in gaslit gloom. He had been dreaming of being buried alive and he hit out at the stonework, still believing he was inside a coffin many feet under the earth. The impact of his hand against the cold roof brought him back to reality. He was still on top of the truck with the stone ceiling a foot over his head.

He remembered: the airship, the truck, the island.

His unlikely hiding place had kept him safe during his sleep. He rolled over. His body felt stiff, but the total exhaustion that had plagued him the previous day had evaporated.

What time was it? He had slept for who knows how long and anything could have happened to Scarlet Bell and Paul Harker. He had to find them.

Jack almost laughed out loud. He was only a child. How could he hope to rescue Scarlet and Mr Harker? Still, he had come this far. Not everyone would have done as well. Now was not the time to doubt himself. All he needed to do was find them and get out of here.