The Medusa Curse Page 10

  ‘Jazz, what’s going on?’ Mike asked, his expression shocked.

  ‘No time to explain. We’ve got to help Phoenix! We need to give him a chance to get away!’

  Mike swallowed bravely. ‘Let’s charge them. It’ll take them by surprise. We’ll have to be ready to make a run for it after though.’

  Phoenix was fighting with everything he had, but Sammy was edging him closer and closer to the waiting vehicle.

  ‘OK,’ Jazz whispered. ‘Are you ready?’

  Mike nodded.

  ‘On the count of three.’ She took a deep breath. ‘One, two, three!’

  With a primal roar, Mike and Jazz flew across the footpath and barrelled into Sammy as hard as they could.

  ‘Oof!’ Jazz heard as her elbow whacked the security guard fair in the stomach. Mike drove forward with his shoulder like he was playing footy. Sammy fell back painfully for a moment. Then, releasing Phoenix from his vicious grip, Sammy clenched his fists in fury and sprang at Jazz and Mike.

  Phoenix flew into action, hooking his right arm around Sammy’s neck and grabbing his right wrist with his left hand to tighten the wrestling hold that Simon had taught him. The two locked together, struggling and stumbling, as Jazz and Mike tried to find some way to intervene that wouldn’t hurt their friend.

  A shrill ringtone cut the morning air. Despite his ongoing battle, Sammy dragged a hand up to reach the Bluetooth by his ear. ‘Yef?’ he managed. An angry voice could be heard on the other end of the line. ‘Small problem,’ Sammy grunted, pushing back into Phoenix’s midriff with an elbow. ‘Dealing with it . . . there soon, boss.’ Sammy suddenly bent his knees and used the momentum to fling his head back in a mighty lunge, copping Phoenix square on the nose.

  ‘Argh!’ yelled Phoenix, losing his grip on Sammy.

  Before Mike or Jazz could step in, Sammy dived into the van, slammed it into gear and roared away up the street, back doors flapping wildly.

  09:02

  Bruised and dusty, Jazz and Mike bent over, hands on their knees, trying to get their breath back. Phoenix slumped to the ground and covered his face with shaky hands.

  Jazz went to his side. ‘Phoenix, are you OK?’

  ‘I think so.’ He moved his hands away from his face to check his other injuries. ‘We need to go back inside.’

  ‘What? We just fought a guy getting you out!’

  ‘My phone. And my laptop. I need them back!’

  ‘How did you call me if you didn’t have your phone?’ asked Jazz, bewildered.

  Phoenix let out an exaggerated sigh that turned into a cry of pain as Jazz helped him up off the ground. ‘You just don’t understand the depths of my genius, Mandell.’

  ‘Well, I definitely don’t understand what you’re talking about, but I see your ego’s not damaged,’ she said.

  Phoenix grinned in reply and limped towards the aircon housing where he’d hidden his laptop. He breathed a huge sigh of relief to find it still safely stashed, recording equipment intact.

  The front door of the factory was locked, so the three of them began searching for another way in. Soon Phoenix spied the palettes he’d climbed the day before. ‘Maybe we can get in through that window!’

  As he began to climb, he felt a stab of pain in his side where Sammy had kicked him. He winced.

  Jazz sighed. ‘Phoenix, you’re injured. I’ll do it. Mike, can you give me a hand?’

  The two of them climbed to the top of the palettes, then Mike cupped his hands together and held them out for Jazz to use as a boost. She slid the window open, then hauled herself up and over the sill.

  ‘How are you going to get down?’ called Mike. He looked back to the ground. ‘That window’s pretty high.’

  ‘’s OK,’ came Jazz’s voice back through the window. ‘There’s a workbench underneath it; I can lower myself down. Go round to the front door and I’ll let you in.’ She disappeared from view.

  Mike and Phoenix did as she asked and, a few minutes later, they were walking through the open door. Once inside, Mike gave out a low whistle of appreciation as he took in the high-tech operation. ‘Not exactly moulds and chisels, is it?’ he muttered to himself, raising an eyebrow.

  Phoenix gave a quiet cry of triumph as he spotted his phone on a bench. He put his laptop next to it and switched it on. ‘I’m going to check the recording from last night.’

  Jazz joined him at the laptop while Mike continued his tour of the space.

  Phoenix loaded up the recording software and hit play. The first thing they heard was a low whistling. The whistling stopped at the sound of a door slamming. A conversation between two men followed.

  Jazz recognised one of the speakers as Sammy. ‘Who’s the other guy?’ she asked.

  Phoenix paused the recording. ‘I was about to text you just before I got hit. I saw him as he came in. It’s Pablo Delgado.’

  ‘Of course,’ exclaimed Jazz. ‘He owns this place.’ She explained about the note she’d found at the museum the night before. ‘But what on earth is he up to?’

  ‘Nothing good,’ said Phoenix. He was surprised by Jazz’s news, and a little annoyed. It made his discovery of Delgado’s connection with Kendricks seem less impressive. But he shrugged and added, ‘I heard him talking about a boat that is leaving tonight. He was worried about a shipment not being ready in time.’

  ‘Maybe he’s shipping stolen goods,’ mused Jazz. ‘I looked him up the other night after Sir Robert mentioned him. He’s been linked to loads of thefts, but has never been convicted of anything. Someone else always takes the fall.’

  ‘That’s Delgado for you,’ said Phoenix. ‘Shall we carry on listening to the recording I risked my life for?’

  Jazz nodded and Phoenix pressed ‘play’ again.

  ‘Not that one!’ they heard Delgado bark. ‘That’s the original; Camille will look after that. The copies are these ones over here. Box them up.’

  They heard an embarrassed laugh from Sammy. ‘Hard to tell the difference. But that’s the point, isn’t it? We don’t want customers knowing they’re getting a fake, with the price they’re paying for these “genuine” treasures!’

  Jazz looked at Phoenix. ‘This just keeps getting worse!’ she said.

  Phoenix shook his head in disbelief. ‘No way Zhang didn’t know about this.’

  Soon they heard Delgado talking again. ‘I don’t know why I bother with you and your boss. First the stuff-up with Sir Robert at the museum, and now you can’t even tell what you’re supposed to be boxing up for shipment.’

  ‘I heard today that Sir Robert could be out of hospital by tomorrow. Once he’s not under police guard we’ll nab him, no worries.’

  ‘Hmph,’ replied Delgado gruffly. ‘Sapphire would already be operational if Grimshaw had been put in the car like I said.’

  ‘The old man was hurt! He’d have been no use to us dead. What if we got caught with a dead knight?’

  ‘I didn’t realise getting caught was part of the plan,’ Delgado snapped in reply.

  ‘No-one got caught. I did all the risky work. I got Gustav away from the scene during the raid and switched off the security cameras. Those kids never saw a thing!’

  ‘I don’t care about the kids. But Sapphire is useless without those activation frequencies!’

  ‘You wouldn’t have known about that if I hadn’t overheard Sir Robert explaining it to the kids. I reckon, if anything, you owe me.’

  ‘I’m paying you already, aren’t I? Get back to work.’

  The conversation was over. Phoenix stopped the recording and gripped the workbench with both hands. ‘I knew it,’ he breathed. ‘Sammy helped steal Sapphire. He’s probably also been helping Dr Zhang bypass museum security to bring stuff here to copy.’

  ‘Yeah, but he wasn’t driving the ram-raid car. He was with Gustav. Someone else is involved too, someone Delgado is annoyed with.’

  Phoenix cocked his head at her. ‘Isn’t it obvious? It’s Dr Zhang. We know someone in this factory c
alled him before the ram-raid. It must have been Delgado, giving him the order to take Sapphire. And if Delgado’s shipment is leaving tonight, Sapphire will be part of it. Your 48 HOURS deadline is even more important now.’

  Jazz slumped onto a stool. Phoenix’s theory made sense, but she just couldn’t believe that Mack’s father would destroy the Velocity wing and steal from his own museum. ‘What has Dr Zhang got himself involved in?’ she asked. ‘We need to find him!’

  ‘And how is Toby Grimshaw involved in all this?’ pondered Phoenix, eyebrows knitted together. ‘Was he just lying about his conversation with Sir Robert to protect his family’s reputation? If his dad loses money, then so does he.’

  Jazz looked up, crossing her arms as she took in their surroundings. ‘I don’t know. Maybe there’s some kind of father-son rivalry between them. We’ll have to wait and see what Anika gets from his files. In the meantime, how are Sammy and Delgado making these copies?’

  Jazz walked to a bench on which stood a box-shaped device. It was hollow and about the size of an old-fashioned computer monitor. Above it was a complicated piece of equipment mounted on rods and hooked up to a computer on the bench. ‘This is a 3D printer, right?’

  ‘Yep,’ agreed Phoenix, coming up next to her. ‘And a pretty good one, too.’

  ‘It’s nothing compared to this,’ Mike called from further across the workshop. Jazz and Phoenix walked over to join him where he was standing in front of a much larger device. This one had spools of multiple materials feeding into different nozzles and could clearly produce a much larger end result.

  ‘Wow, that is absolutely the latest tech,’ said Phoenix. He turned in a circle, taking in the workshop as a whole. ‘Yep, I can see what they’re doing. The original artwork is placed in here and scanned from every angle, like an MRI. That image is converted by design software that then sends it to the printer, which produces a replica. They’ll have chosen a mix of polymers that closely matches the weight and feel of stone or marble. For bronze, silver or even gold artefacts, they might even be printing in the actual metal.’

  ‘And here’s the finishing machine,’ continued Mike. ‘The 3D print-out would be very close, but not identical. So they’d use an acetone solution to polish it back to match the original. Any remaining differences would be invisible to the naked eye.’

  ‘Come and check this out,’ said Phoenix, beckoning them over to a bench piled with paper and heavy stamps.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Jazz.

  ‘Counterfeit,’ said Phoenix. ‘I’d know this equipment anywhere.’ Jazz remembered Phoenix bragging about being good at forging signatures.

  ‘Huh?’ said Mike. ‘Counterfeit, like money?’

  ‘Counterfeit that’s helping them make money.’ Phoenix pointed out a template lying on the workbench. ‘Authentication certificates. Not only are they copying the artworks, they’re making counterfeit certificates to prove to people that they’re the real thing. And check out the authoriser at the bottom of this certificate.’ Phoenix looked grim.

  Jazz gasped. ‘Dr Zhang! He was signing these documents.’

  ‘That’s probably what he was doing here last night, getting ready for the shipment they took out today.’

  ‘This is truly bad,’ lamented Jazz. ‘Whether he was forced into this or not, with his signature on the paperwork he’s going to be in a lot of trouble if this gets to the police.’

  ‘Speaking of trouble,’ said Mike, ‘it sounds like we have company.’

  They heard the loud screeching of a vehicle skidding to a stop outside the main entrance. It was quickly followed by the sound of doors slamming and shouting.

  Phoenix listened. ‘It’s Sammy,’ he confirmed. ‘But this time he’s not alone. We gotta get out of here—now.’

  Jazz scanned the factory for a safe way out. ‘Over there!’ She pointed to a roller door on the back wall.

  They dashed over. Mike got there first. He tried to lift the door, but couldn’t get it higher than about half a metre. ‘It’s stuck,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe it opens with a button or remote.’ Phoenix started searching some nearby messy workbenches, but Jazz pushed him back towards the roller door as Sammy and his mates burst through the main entrance.

  ‘No time!’ she said. ‘Just crawl under!’

  The three of them scrambled through the narrow opening, covering themselves in dust from the dirty concrete floor.

  Jazz heard Sammy shouting as she got to her feet. She was outside in a disused car park. The men were running through the factory, searching for them.

  ‘Where’s the car?’ Phoenix asked.

  ‘Round the front. In a side street.’ Mike shook his head. ‘We’ll have to go back for it later.’

  Phoenix spotted a general store a couple of blocks away. ‘We can hide in there!’ he told Jazz and Mike.

  The trio sprinted across the car park and ran out through the gate, not stopping until they were inside the store. The man at the counter gave them a suspicious look as they stood there, trying to catch their breath.

  Mike looked back the way they came. ‘I don’t think they followed us,’ he said.

  Phoenix sighed with relief. He was exhausted and his injured head and side still ached.

  Jazz pulled out her phone to look at the map of the area. ‘The car is here,’ she said, showing Phoenix the street where Mike had parked. Then she pointed to a nearby main road. ‘Let’s walk along here until we’re past the factory and then double back.’

  Cautiously they exited the store and looked around. There was no sign of Sammy, so they crossed the road and began the trip back to the car.

  ‘Alright,’ Mike said, ‘now we’re no longer being attacked, can you guys tell me what’s really going on?’

  Phoenix opened his mouth to speak but then stopped when he saw Jazz frown doubtfully.

  ‘Come on, Jazz. It’s pretty obvious all this has something to do with the museum.’ Mike gave her a winning smile. ‘Besides, I’ve got skills! I could help.’

  Jazz smiled back. Mike was right, it was too late to try and keep him out of this. ‘OK,’ she said.

  * * *

  By the time they got to the car, Mike knew all about their investigation into the disappearance of Dr Zhang and Sapphire. Jazz had been worried he wouldn’t understand, but Mike actually seemed impressed.

  He and Phoenix discussed what other forensic evidence they could analyse while Jazz sent a message to Anika. She asked her to meet them at Phoenix’s place with anything she’d found in Toby’s files.

  As he climbed into the back seat, Phoenix thought of what might have happened if Mike and Jazz hadn’t shown up. ‘Thanks,’ he said simply. ‘Sammy was talking about throwing me off a cliff into the ocean. You guys kind of saved my life.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Jazz said simply.

  ‘Any time, mate,’ said Mike.

  07:03

  They limped into Phoenix’s house, all three feeling decidedly worse for wear. Jazz’s legs were grazed from when she’d landed on the footpath after rushing Sammy. Phoenix ached all over and his nose was swollen. Mike, too, had a bruised shoulder courtesy of Sammy’s fist and his ginger curls were grey with dust. All of their clothes were filthy. They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom while Phoenix looked for something to eat.

  ‘Did you bring the results of the soil profile?’ Jazz asked Mike when they finally sat down.

  He nodded. ‘I have to say, I’m not sure why you guys were so keen to get this analysed.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well it’s just a bog-standard soil sample.’ Mike chuckled at his own joke. ‘Get it? Bog? Soil?’

  Phoenix groaned and Jazz rolled her eyes. Seeing this, Mike took a computer printout from his pocket and smoothed it on the bench.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting so many numbers,’ commented Jazz, looking at the array of statistical data on the printout.

  ‘It sounded urgent, so I thought it was going to be laced wi
th carcinogens or poisons. But it’s nothing like that. It’s basically just a generic local soil profile with a bit of sandstone mixed in.’

  Phoenix looked deflated, but Jazz was all ears.

  ‘Sandstone?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s not unusual around here, though. You’ve probably noticed lots of buildings in the city are sandstone. There’s still a big quarry outside of town.’

  ‘Can you match up two samples?’ Jazz asked eagerly. ‘If I gave you another one to analyse could you tell if they were from the same source?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, in a cocky voice that reminded Jazz way too much of Phoenix. As if reading her mind, Mike glanced meaningfully at Phoenix. ‘I hear your mum’s got a pretty sweet lab set-up here. The analysis sure would be quicker and easier with access to all the right equipment.’

  Jazz gave Phoenix a nudge, too excited to notice his grimace of pain. ‘Come on, what are you waiting for? Let’s get to the lab!’

  * * *

  ‘So where’s this second sample from?’ Phoenix asked Jazz once they were all kitted out.

  Jazz explained what she’d discovered at the museum the night before and opened up CrimeSeen to show them the old map. ‘That area under Dr Zhang’s office is more than just a storage space—it’s a way to sneak out artworks and avoid the cameras at the other entrances. There was room for a car—or van—to drive right in so it could be loaded out of sight. I grabbed a sample of the dirt from inside.’

  She passed Mike the sample and he set to work, starting first with a visual examination under the high-power magnifier, much as Jazz and Phoenix had done the day before with the sample from Phoenix’s jeans.

  ‘This way I can isolate the most important particles,’ Mike explained. ‘There are likely to be contaminants—grass, synthetics or the odd trace of animal poo.’ Jazz thought immediately of the cat. ‘It’s pretty low-tech but the trained eye can do a good job of purifying the sample.’

  ‘I did that with yesterday’s sample,’ said Phoenix.

  Mike nodded, not taking his eyes from the delicate work on the bench.

  ‘OK, so the first test is pretty straightforward—checking the pH.’ Phoenix was already standing by with a clean white tile and a pH kit. Mike added a few drops of indicator dye and then sprinkled a white powder over the top. Over the next thirty seconds the powder gradually changed colour to a greyish-green. Mike placed a chart with different coloured squares on it next to the sample, moving it along until he found a coloured square that matched the powder. Referring back to his report from the first sample, he nodded. ‘Yep, pH matches. That’s not conclusive by itself, though.’ He glanced around the lab. ‘I’m guessing there’s a colorimeter in here somewhere?’