The Medusa Curse Page 9

  The false wall slid sideways until it was fully open, leaving a space wide enough to drive a car through. There was no sign of security cameras or alarms. Slowly, Jazz stepped outside. She winced at the sound of dirt and grit crunching under her feet.

  Dirt! Jazz retraced her steps and knelt down, reaching into her pocket. She grabbed a plastic zip-lock bag and scooped in some of the dirt. She’d be able to pass the sample to Mike tomorrow for comparison with the dirt from the Velocity wing. Shining the light on the ground, she could just make out a set of indistinct tyre tracks disappearing into the darkened storage area.

  Pleased by what she’d discovered, Jazz slipped the sample bag into her pocket. Then, after ensuring the secret entrance was firmly closed once again, she headed home.

  19:54

  Phoenix pulled his long dark jacket around him as a cold wind blew through the deserted streets of Balfour Park and the lights of his cab vanished round the corner. He’d told his parents he was going to Mike’s so they wouldn’t worry if he got home late. He’d been dropped off at an address close to Kendricks, but still in a residential area—something that seemed less suspicious than a dark deserted factory. It was also a few streets from Mack’s house.

  Dr Zhang’s phone was in a zip-lock bag. Phoenix jogged around the block and slipped it into the Zhang’s mailbox. Then he started walking. As the factory workshop came into sight, the darkness around it seemed to intensify and what little noise had come from the suburban area faded away.

  He approached the building carefully. The menacing blue van was parked there, but there was no sign of movement. Just as he got into position a sensor light snapped on. Had he been spotted? Phoenix pressed himself against the wall of the building, hoping against hope he was covered by the shadows.

  A man came out to the van, struggling with a heavy box. Phoenix caught his profile in the spotlight and recognised Sammy, the museum security guard they’d seen earlier. He hefted the box into the van with a grunt, then sauntered back into the workshop, whistling.

  Keeping close to the wall, Phoenix moved around the building, looking for a good place to set up his equipment. He came to a large air-conditioning unit. A slight crack in the masonry behind the unit allowed him to peer inside. Perfect, he thought. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small microphone. Its size belied its power. It was no bigger than a lapel mic, but it could pick up sounds within a one-hundred-metre radius. Physical noise barriers like concrete, metal and stone made no difference to its sensitivity.

  He plugged the mic in and activated the recording software on his laptop. A jagged line appeared on-screen as the mic picked up Sammy’s whistling. Confident it was recording, Phoenix used a loose bit of housing from the aircon unit to hide the computer.

  Headlights suddenly swept in from the street. Phoenix flattened himself to the ground, trying to stay out of view. The car pulled up outside the workshop. Phoenix risked sticking his head up to get a look at the driver getting out of the car. He was tall and lean, and as he headed for the door the spotlight shone strongly on his face, casting deep shadows and making his hooded eyes look like hollow sockets. Phoenix let out an involuntary gasp! It was technology tycoon Pablo Delgado—the person Sir Robert believed had tried to hack into Sapphire. But what on earth was Delgado doing here?

  He disappeared inside the workshop and Phoenix hurriedly plugged earphones into his laptop to listen in on whatever conversations the mic was picking up. He fiddled with the settings until he heard two voices coming through clearly.

  ‘Mr Delgado,’ a voice stammered. ‘I thought I was meeting up with the boss.’

  ‘Things aren’t being handled as well as they could be, Sammy,’ came the reply. ‘I’m stepping in to iron out a few problems.’

  ‘Y-y-yes, sir.’ It was clear from Sammy’s voice that Delgado was a more fearsome prospect than whoever he was calling ‘boss’.

  ‘Are those boxes packed?’ barked Delgado.

  Another stammered reply confirmed they were.

  ‘Then why aren’t they in the van already?’ Phoenix couldn’t see Delgado, but the menace in his voice was unmistakable. This was a man who always got his own way. ‘Move it. Get ’em out to the van. I’ve got a boat docked and waiting for these goods. If anything gets delayed, I’ll be holding you responsible.’

  Phoenix heard the shuffle and kick of footsteps as Sammy rushed to do as he was told. Once all was quiet again, Phoenix grabbed his phone. He had to tell Jazz that Pablo Delgado was mixed up in all this! He’d just started writing a text when he heard a noise behind him.

  Phoenix swung round to see.

  Too late.

  Way too late.

  A stunning blow to the back of his head.

  An explosion of pain.

  Blackness.

  18:53

  Phoenix groaned. The back of his head was throbbing and he was lying on hard ground. He opened his eyes and flinched at the pain this caused him. Phoenix blinked a few times, hoping he hadn’t sustained a serious injury. Gradually the pain settled down and, very gingerly, he sat up and tried to remember what had happened.

  He’d been attacked outside Kendricks. Whoever struck him had dragged him into what looked like a disused office, built on a higher level than the factory floor. It was lit only by an Exit sign over the door.

  Phoenix felt for his mobile, but it was no longer in his pocket. His captors had searched him and taken it. What about his laptop? Had they found it, stashed inside the aircon unit? He felt fear rising as he realised he couldn’t contact anyone for help. Did the criminals know he’d been spying on them? Probably. He got to his feet and, keeping low, crept to the office door. It was locked with a very serious deadbolt. Phoenix was looking around for something—anything—that he might use to deal with the lock when he heard the buzz and snap of fluorescent lights blinking on outside. Phoenix crawled to the office’s one small window and peered down. Sammy and Delgado were just below.

  ‘That’s all of it,’ said Sammy. ‘I’ll take it down to the harbour. You still leaving tomorrow night?’

  Delgado responded only with a nod.

  ‘What about the kid?’ asked Sammy.

  ‘Leave him here.’

  ‘Poor guy’s probably just some kid snooping!’

  ‘Don’t you recognise him? He’s the one who almost caught you watching his place. You will need to deal with him in the morning.’

  ‘Deal with him—permanently?’

  Phoenix felt his blood freeze with fear.

  Delgado gave a nasty chuckle. ‘Something like that; I doubt he’ll put up much of a fight. Get up there and take a look at him before we go.’

  Phoenix immediately dropped back to the position in which he’d regained consciousness, eyes closed, trying to still the rapid beating of his heart and slow down his breathing. He lay as limp as he could.

  He heard the heavy tread of footsteps on the metal stairs and then a key turned in the lock. Phoenix briefly thought of trying to escape. But it wouldn’t be possible, not with two of them. Best play dead—and plan.

  Heavy footsteps approached him. And then the kick in his flank.

  The kick was bad; it took him all he had not to yell in pain. Sammy leant down and whispered in Phoenix’s ear. ‘Sleep tight. I’ll deal with you tomorrow.’ The man stood up and turned away. Pain seared from the site of the kick in a sickening wave, up and down Phoenix’s torso.

  ‘He’s out like a light. I sure hit him hard!’ Sammy joked to Delgado as he clanged down the metal steps.

  Wide-eyed in the dark, Phoenix listened with all his might, but the rest of their work was done in silence apart from the occasional curse. In ten minutes they were finished. Phoenix listened as the factory door finally slammed closed and the light outside sputtered out. Moments later he heard a car drive away, the sound of it fading into the silence of the night. They’d gone.

  I’ve got to get out of here, Phoenix told himself. I’ve got to find a way out. But how?


  10:24

  As soon as Jazz woke the next morning she reached for her phone. Before going to sleep, she’d sent Phoenix a message about the secret entrance to the museum. Eager for his reply, she was disappointed when she saw that nothing had come through. Jazz decided to call him. His mobile rang for a while before going to voicemail.

  ‘Please leave a message,’ said the recorded voice.

  Maybe he’s still asleep, Jazz thought. But she was surprised; it wasn’t like Phoenix to have his phone on silent.

  She opened up CrimeSeen and flicked through her notes so far, uploading the photo she had taken last night of the old museum map. It was fascinating, showing a number of tunnels running below the different sections of the museum. She traced her finger over the one from Dr Zhang’s office, noticing also that the map showed all the service doors between the Antiquities wing and admin offices.

  Suddenly Jazz remembered the note she’d found in the security office that she’d stuffed in her pocket. Her jeans were scrunched up in a ball on her floor, so she got up and dug out the note, placing it in another of the zip-lock sample bags she had lying around from her work in Dr Lyons’ lab. She uploaded a photo of it to CrimeSeen.

  Phoenix would want to see this link between Kendricks and Delgado. She decided to try and ring him again. Still no answer. She checked online. None of his social media pages showed him as active.

  Suddenly images came into her head of the blue van: parked at the museum, watching them near Phoenix’s house, stopping outside Kendricks. Fear gripped her.

  Hurriedly, Jazz pulled on some clothes. She didn’t even bother brushing her hair, but just splashed her face with water in the bathroom, cleaning her teeth as quickly as she could.

  Her phone rang. Jazz snatched it up, hoping it was Phoenix calling back. But the screen showed that it was an unknown number.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, Jazz, how are you? Um . . . Phoenix gave me your number.’

  Jazz frowned. ‘Mike?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry to call so early. I hope you weren’t asleep. I left that soil analysis running overnight and checked it as soon as I got up. I thought I could drive around this morning and tell you about the results. Only if you’re not busy, of course. Are you busy?’

  Despite her fear for Phoenix, Jazz found herself wondering—is Mike babbling? She was about to tell him that she was busy, when she had an idea. ‘Actually, I do have some time. Can you come now?’

  ‘OK, sure!’ said Mike, sounding relieved. There was a pause before he asked, ‘Will, um, will Phoenix be there? I thought maybe you and I could go and get some breakfast or something.’

  Jazz couldn’t help but think of what Phoenix had said about Mike having a crush on her. This sure was a weird time for him to choose to ask her out!

  ‘Could we save breakfast for another day? I need to get to Phoenix’s place. It’s kind of urgent. Any chance you could drive me?’

  * * *

  Phoenix sat in the corner of the locked office, legs splayed out in front of him, his body heavy with despair. Since daybreak he had sat by the small window. Although grimy, it let in just enough light for him to make out a clock on the far wall. 9.00 am.

  He’d come to the conclusion that his prison was extremely well fortified. The deadbolt was impossible to budge and the door seemed welded to its hinges. He tried smashing the glass of the small window with his fist rolled up in his jacket, but all that did was send shockwaves through his wrist. The safety glass was thick and would not break. He looked around for a sharp implement, but there were no tools at all in the disused office, just dusty, empty shelves and scattered papers.

  On the floor in a corner, mocking him, lay an old plastic telephone, covered in dust. For a second, hope jumped in his mind. But as soon as he picked up the handset, he heard only the dead silence of a disconnected line. No-one had used it in ages and the cable had been pulled out a long time ago. He couldn’t even use it to smash the window. The plastic was so old and flimsy that the phone would break before the glass did.

  Get a grip, Phoenix, he scolded himself. You’ve got to make a plan. He started to imagine hiding behind the door and pouncing on Sammy as he came in. Even if he couldn’t overcome the big man in a fight, the element of surprise might just give Phoenix sufficient time to dart past and down the stairs to freedom. But what if Sammy’s not alone?

  Frustrated, Phoenix kicked the lowest part of the wall, and that’s when he noticed that part of the skirting board had come away. This gave him another idea. If I prise a piece of that skirting board away, I could use it as a weapon. Making sure to keep clear of any nails, he gripped onto the loose end of the board and pulled with all his strength, bracing against the wall with his feet and leaning back. With a mighty jerk, he was able to rip away about half a metre of timber.

  Splinters of wood had broken off onto his clothes. Phoenix was standing up to brush them off when he noticed something else. It couldn’t be! But it was. Beneath the skirting board was an older part of the wall. And there, flattened by the pressure of the skirting board that had hidden it from view, was a wonderful sight. A telephone connection! Just because the phone had been disconnected, it didn’t mean the line was! Leaping up off the floor, he grabbed the telephone and its old cable, and plugged the old-fashioned pins into the fitting low down on the wall. He grabbed the handpiece and listened. He heard the sound of an operational telephone line.

  He held his finger poised over the keypad then . . . What was Jazz’s number? When was the last time he’d memorised someone’s number? The only one he knew was his own.

  That was it! One of the first apps he’d invented was one that allowed him to install voice-activated remote-access software on his mobile. It had seemed like the best idea in the world, but since he was never away from his phone he hadn’t had the chance to use it.

  ‘You’d better be as good a programmer as you tell everyone you are,’ Phoenix muttered as he dialled his own number. He waited, heart in mouth, to see if the call connected. When he heard the phone ringing, his hands began to shake. Carefully, he pressed the numbers of the code that would make the software answer.

  Then he heard his own voice down the other end of the line. ‘Hey, what do you want?’ It had seemed funny when he programmed it, now it was just spooky.

  ‘Access phone book,’ his voice came out in a squeak.

  ‘What was that?’ said his own voice in response. ‘Can’t hear you!’ it taunted.

  Wow, thought Phoenix. I really can be a jerk.

  ‘Access phone book,’ he said clearly.

  ‘Phone book accessed. Contact name?’

  ‘Call Jazz Mandell.’ Phoenix could have wept when it did just that.

  09:40

  ‘So what’s this all about?’ Mike asked, as he pulled out of Jazz’s driveway. If he’d been disappointed to miss out on his chance for a breakfast date, he was hiding it well.

  Jazz was grateful that he was being so helpful—not just with the lift but the soil sample as well. Nevertheless, she still wasn’t sure how much to tell him at this stage. She hesitated, weighing up her options. Finally she spoke. ‘I’m worried about Phoenix.’

  ‘So are a lot of people,’ Mike joked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and flashing a mischievous grin.

  Jazz couldn’t help but smile back. If it wasn’t for his freckles, she thought, he could pass for older than his actual age.

  ‘I’m serious, it’s a long story . . . and I’m still not sure about a lot of it.’ She paused, watching for his reaction. ‘Let’s just say that Phoenix was out last night testing a surveillance program he was developing, and since then I haven’t been able to contact him.’

  ‘You think he could be in some kind of trouble?’

  ‘I do. But I could be wrong. We need to check at his house to see if he came home last night.’

  ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ Mike wasn’t smiling anymore. ‘Do you know where he was testing the program?
’

  Jazz was about to reply when the sound of her mobile ringing made her jump. She couldn’t contain her relief when she saw Phoenix’s number on the screen. ‘Phoenix! Are you alright? I thought—’

  ‘Jazz, listen.’ Phoenix was speaking fast and his voice was low. ‘I’m locked inside Kendricks Engineering. I don’t know how much time I have. He’s threatened to deal with me when he—’

  ‘Phoenix? Phoenix? Are you there?’

  No response.

  ‘Phoenix? Hello? Hold tight, I’m on my way!’

  The line was dead.

  * * *

  Minutes later, Jazz was giving Mike directions to Balfour Park. Just around the corner from the workshop, she yelled to Mike to pull in at the kerb. She leapt from the car and headed for the cul-de-sac. Nothing moved on the street. Jazz immediately spotted the blue van parked outside Kendricks again, its rear doors open.

  ‘This way,’ called Jazz, running in a crouch to a factory next door. She and Mike hid behind a display of floor tiles. Mike was only average height but he was fairly burly. Anyone glancing at the tiles would notice him for sure.

  Jazz looked over the top to see if it was safe to move, then ducked down quickly as a noisy commotion erupted outside Kendricks.

  ‘That’s Phoenix’s voice!’ hissed Mike, peering around the display as the shouting increased in volume.

  They were shocked to see Phoenix being pushed and dragged out of Kendricks Engineering by Sammy the security guard.

  ‘Let me go!’ Phoenix yelled. ‘Help! Somebody! Help!’

  ‘Yell all you like, pal,’ said Sammy with an ugly laugh. ‘There’s nobody around to hear you!’

  Jazz and Mike shrank back. Phoenix was making it as difficult as he could for Sammy, kicking and struggling to free his arms from their vicious hold as he was dragged towards the open doors of the blue van.