The House of Puzzles (8 page)

Ruby moved her gaze to the fire and said nothing.

Gerald stared at Green. The flames painted the man’s silver hair with a strawberry
tinge. ‘You haven’t come all this way to say sorry to Ruby,’ he said.

‘You are surprised to see me, then?’ Green said. ‘That is tremendous news. That means
Inspector Parrott and his colleagues from the Met are highly unlikely to come sniffing
around here. I have found that the best place to hide is where people least expect
to find you.’

‘But your tan,’ Ruby said. ‘Taking a daily swim—that doesn’t sound like a winter
in Scotland.’ Then, after a second’s thought, ‘It doesn’t even sound like a summer
in Scotland.’

Green’s mouth curled into a smirk. ‘Believe me, Miss Valentine, I am merely in Scotland
for a visit.’

Gerald’s eyes flicked to the gun by Green’s side. ‘What do you want?’ he asked. ‘And
where is Professor McElderry?’

‘You Australians,’ Green said with a sweep of his hand. ‘Always to the point. I have
certainly not risked coming all the way here simply for a pleasant reunion with friends.’

‘We’re not friends,’ Gerald said flatly.

‘And this really isn’t pleasant,’ Ruby added.

Green stood up and crossed to the woodpile by the
fireplace. He rolled a fresh log
into the flames. Sparks leapt up the chimney. ‘You’ll begin to make me feel unwelcome,’
he said. ‘And we have so much to talk about.’ He returned to his chair and eased
himself into the cushions. ‘Such as how you managed to break into my apartment in
San Francisco and destroy an historic relic.’

Gerald, Ruby, Felicity and Sam sucked in a collective breath.

‘I may be on the run from the law, but I’m not completely clueless,’ Green continued.
All the warmth leeched from his eyes. ‘You lied your way into my apartment and smashed
a bottle. I understand that Miss Upham was the one responsible.’ He fixed Felicity
with a rapier stare.

Felicity gasped.

‘How did I know your name and the circumstances behind your act of vandalism?’ Green
did not pause for a response. ‘I’ll leave you to ponder that in the spare moments
you have while completing a task for me—a task that you are in no position to refuse.’
He laid a casual hand across the pistol at his side, stroking it as if it was a spoiled
cat.

Gerald clenched his teeth and forced out the question, ‘What do you want?’

Green smiled. ‘There was a message hidden inside that bottle. I believe you have
it.’

Gerald shifted in his seat. ‘Is that all you want? It’s
in my sketchbook back at
the outdoor centre. Take it. It’s no use to me.’

Green locked his eyes on Gerald’s. ‘But you do have a use for it, Gerald. The message
is written in code, if you recall. A message from Jeremy Davey.’

Gerald’s mind flashed back to the message that had been hidden inside the old bottle.
It was scratched in faded ink on the back of a page torn from the Voynich manuscript.
‘It was just a bunch of random letters,’ he said.

Green’s eyes grew dark. ‘Then I suggest you figure out how to render them less random,’
he said. ‘Solve that code and tell me what the message is.’

Gerald lifted his chin in defiance. But before he could say anything, Green continued.
‘Don’t start with the tired
What if we refuse?
gambit. If you refuse then someone
dies. It’s as simple as that.’

Green turned his head towards the lounge-room door and called out, ‘You may enter
now.’

The sound of shuffling feet came from the hall. Then a figure appeared in the doorway.
The red beard was straggly and the eyes were dull, but there was no mistaking the
shambling presence of Professor Knox McElderry.

Gerald jumped from the couch and took a step towards the professor. In one fluid
movement, Sir Mason Green leapt from his chair, unsheathed a sword from his walking
stick and had the tip at McElderry’s throat.

‘Slow down, Gerald,’ Green said. ‘That is, unless you want to witness something quite
distasteful.’

Gerald froze. He looked in despair at the professor. The old man’s clothes were crumpled
and his hair was unbrushed. His shoulders were slumped and his head tipped to the
side like a cow perplexed by something that had wandered into the paddock. The professor’s
expression, normally so animated and engaged, was blank. Sedated.

‘Professor McElderry?’ Gerald said. ‘Are you all right?’

The professor did not respond. His eyes drifted to a window in the far wall, as if
looking for a visitor who was long past due.

‘Professor?’ Gerald repeated. He turned to Green. ‘What’s the matter with him?’

Green moved the point of his sword towards Gerald and gestured to the couch. Gerald
reluctantly resumed his seat. ‘The Voynich manuscript that you so kindly tracked
down for me on the island of Ven is throwing up all manner of interesting secrets,’
Green said. ‘I can see why Emperor Rudolph II was so keen to get his hands on it.’

‘What’s that got to do with the professor?’ Sam asked. ‘He looks like he’s only half
here.’

McElderry stood awkwardly in the doorway, like a scarecrow that had faced one too
many tornados. A look of smug success washed across Green’s face. ‘The Voynich isn’t
so much an ancient manuscript as a cookbook for
the ages—for the Middle Ages anyway,’
he said. ‘The professor and his colleagues from the British Museum have been helping
to unlock its mysteries.’

‘But I thought the manuscript only had the recipe for the universal remedy,’ Ruby
said. ‘At least, that’s what Brahe was using it for.’ Her voice trailed off.

Green lowered his sword and leaned on it with both hands. ‘Yes, our friend Tycho
was fixated on prolonging his days on earth. He failed to see that it’s not the number
of days you have, but what you pack into them. He missed the vast wealth of wonder
that the Voynich contains. Just look at what one recipe has produced.’ He waved a
hand towards Professor McElderry. ‘Observe,’ Green said. ‘Food!’ he barked at McElderry.

‘Haggis!’ the professor barked back, his head lolling across to the other shoulder.

‘Drink!’ Green called out.

‘Whisky!’ the professor bellowed, as if last drinks had been called at his local
pub. ‘Single malt!’

Ruby bristled. ‘What are you doing?’ she cried at Green. ‘Don’t be awful!’

Sir Mason raised an eyebrow and chuckled. ‘Oh, Miss Valentine, do not despair. The
concoction of rare tropical plants and crushed insects that I have fed him merely
makes him susceptible to suggestion. It’s a nice warming bowl of hypnosis soup. Imagine
if I mass produced it and sold it tinned in supermarkets. I could rule the world.’

‘What do you mean?’ Gerald said. ‘The professor will do anything you tell him?’

‘Precisely,’ Green said. ‘And if you fail to solve that coded message, I will tell
him to do something most unfortunate.’

Gerald wanted to stop himself from asking the question. He knew nothing good could
come of it. But the words forced their way out.

‘Like what?’

Green stared at Gerald for a moment then picked up the pistol from the table by the
armchair. He took McElderry’s wrist and placed the gun in his hand.

‘Professor,’ Green began, ‘I want you to shoot yourself. In the head, please.’

‘No!’ Gerald yelled. Sam jumped to his feet, but Green whipped the sword to the boy’s
face. ‘Be still,’ Green said in a chill whisper. He turned back to McElderry. ‘Now.’

Gerald watched in dumb horror as the professor lifted the pistol to his temple. His
forefinger tightened on the trigger.

McElderry’s eyes registered nothing as the hammer fell with a dull metallic
clack
.

Gerald was almost sick on the rug.

Green retrieved the pistol and lowered the professor’s hand to his side. ‘Naturally
the gun was not loaded,’ Green said as he slid it into his jacket. ‘But I think you
have an idea now of what will happen if you do not solve that code for me.’

Felicity buried her face in Ruby’s neck and sobbed.

‘And you can imagine what will happen if you tell anyone about my being here,’ Green
continued. ‘You do not want the consequences on your conscience, I can assure you.
And Gerald?’

Gerald glared up at the man with barely controlled rage. ‘What?’

‘I understand someone tried to convince you to quit the Triple Crown challenge.’

Gerald’s stomach tightened. ‘How could you possibly know about that?’ he asked.

One corner of Green’s mouth turned up into a sickly smile. ‘You must remember, I
have eyes everywhere. There is nothing you can say or do that will not find its way
back to me. You must continue with the challenge and for the sake of your friend’s
life, you will complete it. What’s more—’

The pounding of a fist on the front door cut him off. The sound was followed a moment
later by a man’s voice. ‘Gerald Wilkins! Sam Valentine! Are you in there?’

Green
scowled in the flickering light. He raised the tip of his sword to Gerald’s throat.
‘Not a word about me,’ he hissed through clenched teeth.

Green took hold of the professor’s elbow and dragged him into the hallway, through
a side door and out into the snow-strewn night.

Chapter 8

The front door banged open and a howl of wind blasted inside. Heavy footsteps thudded
down the corridor, and a burly figure lumbered into the lounge.

‘Mr Beare!’ Gerald said. The St Cuthbert’s maths teacher was the last person he had
expected to see. ‘What are you doing here?’

Mr Beare smiled cheerily. ‘Well, hello,’ he said, brushing snow from his shoulders.
‘You’ve set yourselves up nicely, I must say.’ He strode to the fireplace, tugging
his gloves off with his teeth. ‘Far better than all the miserable sods under canvas
tonight, that’s for sure. I’ve just been doing the rounds to make sure everyone is
all right. That snow is really coming down out there. You’ll be happy to know all
your classmates are accounted for,
though none of them have fires and marshmallows
and soft beds like you.’

Mr Beare turned around to the four faces staring up at him. Felicity was sobbing
quietly.

‘What’s the matter with her?’ Mr Beare asked. ‘You lot have the least to be sad about.’

Ruby glared at him. ‘Ghosts,’ she said flatly. ‘We’ve been telling scary stories.
One of them upset Felicity.’

Mr Beare looked at Felicity as if she was about to detonate. ‘I’m not used to dealing
with girls,’ he said. ‘Things tend to be a bit more straightforward with chaps. Right,
Gerald?’ Mr Beare clapped him on the shoulder, triggering a sharp cry of pain.

Mr Beare’s eyes shot wide and he took a pace backwards. ‘Everyone’s on a short fuse
tonight. Just to let you know, the time limit for the first leg of the Triple Crown
has been extended because of the snow. You can have another crack at it next weekend
if you like.’ He looked at Felicity with mild concern. ‘Um, I might hop back in the
Land Rover and bunk down at Oates. I’ll leave you lot to your ghost stories. Good
night.’ He plucked a marshmallow from the packet and popped it in his mouth then
made his way back up the hall.

Ruby helped Felicity to the couch and sat with an arm around her shoulders. Gerald
and Sam looked at each other, then at the girls.

Nobody spoke.

There was nothing to say.

It was a grim breakfast of leftover baked beans.

Gerald poked his spoon around his plate with no real appetite, shifting beans from
one pile to another.

‘The professor looked so miserable,’ he said.

‘Wouldn’t you?’ Ruby said. ‘Stuck in some hypnotic fog and made to perform like a
trained seal by that horrible man.’

‘Well, that horrible man has given us something to do,’ Gerald said. He dropped his
plate onto the table. ‘I say we hike back to Oates and start on that coded message.’

‘What about the checkpoint and the Triple Crown?’ Felicity said. ‘Green made it very
clear that you need to complete that as well.’

‘He doesn’t ask for much, does he?’ Sam said. ‘How are we supposed to do both?’

‘We’ll try for the checkpoint next weekend,’ Gerald said. ‘I get the feeling this
code is going to take some time to solve.’

The blizzard had eased overnight, and they tramped four hours through snow-covered
fields back to Oates.

The dining hall was only half full when they arrived just in time for lunch. Ruby
watched with distaste as Sam demolished his second serving of shepherd’s pie.

‘How was it?’ she asked.

Sam shoved the final forkful into his mouth. ‘Could
have used a bit less shepherd,’
he said. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips. ‘So, what do you think, Gerald?
Can we solve this thing, or should I get some pudding to keep me going?’

Gerald cleared some space in the lunchtime debris on the table and unfolded a sheet
of paper.

Another group of hikers arrived in the hall, full of stories of snow and tents and
wandering lost in the dark. Gerald, Sam, Ruby and Felicity ignored them, concentrating
on the note in front of them. The paper was creased and grubby from being unfolded
and refolded so many times, but the letters were still quite clear: