The Time Hunters (Book 1 of the acclaimed series for children of all ages) (8 page)

Becky was sitting at the table, her gaze fixed on
the wall. After a few minutes of confused silence, she spoke, ‘Why us?
Why our rooms?’

‘I don’t know, Becky,’ Uncle Percy said softly. ‘I
really don’t. But there is one thing I
do
know: it’s not safe for you here. I’ll phone your mother and drive you back to
Manchester tonight.’

Becky looked mortified.
‘No way.
We want to stay here. Don’t we, Joe?’

Joe nodded.
‘Too right.’

‘But it’s not safe,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘There are
things happening that I can’t -’

‘We don’t care,’ Becky said. ‘We want to stay with
you
!’

‘I’m sorry, but if Otto Kruger and his thugs are -’

Becky interjected. ‘- Are after us, then we’re best
staying here.’

‘I don’t think they are after you. I don’t see how
they can be.’

Becky sat up sharply. ‘Well they were after
something. And that something was in our rooms, right?’

‘It appears so.’ Uncle Percy sighed. ‘That’s why you
should be at home with -’

‘With
who,
mum?’ Becky
interrupted. ‘What’s she going to do if they turn up, hit them with a baguette?
Here we’ve got you to protect us, and Will, and a prehistoric tiger with
massive fangs. Back home we’ve got no one.’

Uncle Percy’s eyes searched out Will’s, eager for
advice. Will deliberated for a few seconds, and then nodded coolly. Uncle Percy
turned back to Becky. ‘Very well, you can stay.’

Becky beamed at Joe.

‘What do you think they were looking for?’ Joe
asked.

‘I’m afraid, Joe, I have absolutely no idea.’

‘It’s to do with the Golden Fleece, isn’t it?’ Becky
said sharply.

A tense silence swept the kitchen.

‘The Golden Fleece?’
Joe blurted. ‘What’re you talking ab - ’

‘Shhh,’ Becky snapped back. ‘It is, isn’t it?’

Uncle Percy hesitated for a moment. ‘It may be.
Although for the life of me I can’t imagine what.’

‘I knew it!’ Becky said, sounding triumphant.

‘Knew what?’ Joe barked. ‘Will somebody tell me what
is going
on.
’

Uncle Percy gave a heavy sigh. ‘Perhaps we should go
to the library, and I’ll tell you all I know.’

Maria spun round, trembling with anger. ‘Sir … NO!’

‘Maria,’ Uncle Percy said calmly. ‘Otto Kruger came
looking for something. Something, it seems that concerns Becky or Joe. Now you
know Kruger better than anyone, and the horrors he’s capable of, it’s only fair
they know what we know. Who knows, they may even be able to help…’

Chapter 10

Bowen
Library

Becky had never entered Bowen library before. A
sprawling room on the top floor, it had tall walls and an ornate rococo ceiling.
Thick with dust, a stale smell emanated through the room. She had the feeling it
was the one room she’d seen that was off-limits to Maria’s thorough cleaning
regime. Books of all shapes and sizes, old and new, filled the bookshelves,
with the uppermost tiers occupied by ancient ragged scrolls, coiled up, and
tied with string.

Uncle Percy ushered Becky and Joe to a large, circular
table in the centre of the room.
 
He
moved to a corner shelf, pulled out a thick leather bound volume and returned
to the table.
‘Where to begin?’
He placed the book down
on his right. ‘About a month ago, a good friend of mine, Bernard Preston,
turned up at the Hall. He’d been shot and was dying. Now according to his time
machine, he had travelled to London on the 15
^th
January 1900. Upon examining
the bullet, however, it was clear that the gun from which it was fired was not
made until many years later. Therefore, he had to have been murdered by a time
traveller.’

The words made Becky shiver.

‘Now just before he died, he told me to see someone
named Aubrey. Later, I discovered he was referring to the seventeenth century
writer and antiquarian, John Aubrey. Now, Aubrey’s specific area of expertise
was Stonehenge. You’ve heard of Stonehenge?’

‘Of course,’ Becky said.

‘I went there with the school.’ Joe crumpled his
nose. ‘It was naff.’

Uncle Percy shot Joe a disapproving look. ‘I assure
you, Joe. Stonehenge is far from
naff
.
In fact, I believe somehow the monument lies at the very heart of this mystery.
Anyway, I visited Aubrey, and he told me that Bernard had indeed been to see
him to discuss a legend associated with Stonehenge.’

‘What legend?’ Becky asked excitedly.

‘Well, as you may know, Stonehenge took hundreds of
years to build. Anyway, there is an ancient legend that states that when it was
finished, God was so delighted he rewarded its makers with a powerful object.
A divine object.’

‘The Golden Fleece,’ Becky said.

‘Precisely.
Now, of course, stories like this are common throughout history, and more often
than not are total poppycock. I didn’t see why this one would be any different.
That was until I scrutinized his research. His investigations, both academic
and in the field, have convinced me that the legend was indeed based on some semblance
of fact. To what extent, I’m not sure, but I am in no doubt that the Golden
Fleece existed. You’ve heard of the Golden Fleece, Joe?’’

‘Course,’ Joe said, ‘Dad used to read it to me. It’s
an awesome story.’

Uncle Percy continued. ‘Yes, it is. Anyway, as
Stonehenge was finished so long ago, before recorded time, no one knows
precisely when it was completed, or indeed who completed it.’

‘Couldn’t you just use the time machine and go and
get it,’ Becky said.

‘To do that, you would need an exact date, time,
location and who it was presented to. I have none of these. Anyway, Bernard
believed, as with the popular legend, it was taken to Ancient Greece. But he
had no idea as to where or when. So he started investigating more contemporary
sources.’

Uncle Percy pulled the book closer. He pressed three
letters on the padded cover and the book’s title illuminated red. Suddenly a
bookshelf creaked open, exposing a compact wall safe concealed behind it. Becky
and Joe looked at each other in astonishment. Uncle Percy approached the safe
and typed nine digits into a keypad. The safe door sprang open.

From what little Becky could see, the safe contained
tattered documents, an old watch, a necklace, a small non-descript wooden box,
rolled up blueprints and other assorted valuables, but Uncle Percy closed the
door before she could get a better look. He returned carrying just two items: a
scrap of paper and an object wrapped in cloth. He passed Becky the piece of
paper. ‘I found this note in Bernard’s pocket.’

A.J
E

17
Cromwell Gardens

6768956665

SS?

Uncle Percy studied Becky and Joe’s enthralled
faces. ‘I believe A.J.E. to be the initials of the Victorian archaeologist,
Arthur John Evans. Now, Evans lived in Oxford, but he did keep a place in
London. The address is that of Evans’ apartment in Westminster.’

‘And what about the numbers?’
Becky asked.

‘I believe they’re the combination to his wall safe.
To cut a long story short, knowing Evans was in Oxford at the time, I believe
Bernard broke into number 17 Cromwell Gardens, found the safe and stole its
contents.’

‘And what was in the safe?’ Joe asked eagerly.

Uncle Percy lifted the package. ‘This.’ He removed
the cloth to reveal an orange disc about seven inches in diameter.

‘What is it?’ Becky asked, engrossed.

‘I don’t know. The metal is unlike any I’ve seen.
The marks, well, they bear no resemblance to anything I can find in history.
This disc is a true enigma.’

‘So where did Arthur Evans get it?’ Becky asked.

Uncle Percy shrugged. ‘Much of this is speculation,
but I know for a fact that in January 1900 he’d recently returned from an
archaeological dig at Knossos on Crete. Perhaps he found it there. Anyway, as
well as being an archeologist he was also the curator of Oxford’s
world-renowned Ashmolean Museum. And that’s where I’m going tomorrow, to
January 16
^th
1900, to talk to him about it.’

‘Can we come?’ Becky said immediately.

Uncle Percy walked to the far side of the room and
stared out of the window.

Becky could see he was struggling to give his
consent. ‘We’re involved now, whether you like it or not,’ she said. ‘It was
our rooms that were done over.’

Uncle Percy continued gazing into space. As the
seconds passed by, Becky glanced anxiously at Joe. Then she watched as her
uncle’s mouth edged open. ‘I suppose it may benefit your education to see
Victorian England.’

Becky and Joe gaped at each other. They were going
on another journey in time, to meet Arthur Evans and to find out about the mysterious
disc.

Uncle Percy returned the disc to the wall safe, when
Becky remembered something. ‘Uncle Percy, on the note, what do the letters ‘
SS
’ mean?’

Uncle Percy’s expression grew solemn. ‘Well, I’m
still not completely sure, but judging by today’s events I think we may have
found our answer. You’ve heard of a rather notorious figure called Adolf
Hitler?’

‘Er, yeah,’ Becky said sarcastically.

‘The
SS, or
the
Schutzstaffel, were originally formed as Hitler’s personal
guards.
 
One of the men who broke into
the Hall today was Otto Kruger, a founding member of the SS, and one of
Hitler’s most brutal bodyguards. In fact, Kruger was so notorious for his
cruelty, his ruthlessness, and his unwavering loyalty to the Nazi Party he
ended up being so powerful he only took orders from Hitler himself. I know for
a fact he was personally responsible for sixteen murders on June 30
^th
1934; a diabolical night in German history infamously known as ‘The Night of
The Long Knives.’ Obviously I won’t go into details of his atrocities, but let
me just say that even the most high-powered members of the Nazi Party were afraid
of Otto Kruger.’

Becky had turned white. ‘So what happened to him?
Why is he in our time? And what on earth was he doing tearing our rooms apart?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t answer any of those questions. All
I do know is that Otto Kruger disappeared sometime in the summer of 1940 and
was never heard of again. Until now, that is…’

Chapter 11

A
Victorious Revelation

The following morning, Becky stared jadedly at the
mountain of eggs and buttered toast piled high on her plate. She had hardly
slept. Despite Uncle Percy’s appeals not to research Kruger, she had found a
black and white photo of him on the net and his face had plagued her all night.

At that moment, Uncle Percy breezed into the kitchen
dressed in a single-breasted morning coat and glossy black top hat, a walking
cane tucked securely beneath his arm. ‘Morning all,’ he said brightly.
‘Wonderful day, isn’t it?’

Maria glared at him. Joe had told her about the trip
to Victorian Oxford and she’d been smashing crockery ever since.

‘Morning.’
Joe glanced up. ‘You look great’

‘Thought I’d better look the part,’ Uncle Percy
said, kissing a growling Maria on the cheek. ‘Now, are you both ready to try on
your costumes?’

A wave of nausea passed over Becky. Going back in
time was one thing but wearing a daft costume was another thing altogether.

Minutes later, Becky and Joe followed their Uncle to
the morning room where they saw two very different outfits laid out for them.
Becky stared at hers in horror: a brown and white striped cotton dress, cream
bonnet with matching woollen shawl and parasol. Her throat dried up.

Uncle Percy noticed her shock. ‘Well, Becky. If one
wishes to venture in time, one must dress as others dress.’

‘I AM NOT WEARING THAT!’ Becky roared, as Joe
giggled loudly. She spun round to face him. ‘I don’t know what you’re laughing
at? Those are knickerbockers. You’ll look more like a girl than me.’

Joe shrugged. ‘Don’t care.’

‘Well, if you wish to accompany Will and me this is
exactly what you will wear,’ Uncle Percy said cheerily. ‘It is
not
open to debate.’

‘Will’s coming?’ Becky asked.

‘Yes.’ Uncle Percy bent forward and whispered, ‘
Between
you and me, he’s not particularly happy with his apparel
either.’

At that moment Becky heard a shuffling sound. Will
entered the room, head down. He wore a brown suit, wide britches and knee-high
stockings. His long hair was tied in a bun under a cloth cap and he carried a
silver ball handled cane. His sullen expression spoke volumes.

Becky choked back a burst of laughter.

‘Ready?’ Will muttered.

Uncle Percy winked at Becky.
‘When
Becky and Joe are dressed, William.’

Minutes later, Becky paced her room. As far as she
could remember, she’d never worn a dress in her life, and didn’t really want to
start with one that made her look like a Cornetto. However, she dearly wanted
to see Victorian England and if this was the price she had to pay, so be it.
She began to dress.

As the clock rang eleven, Uncle Percy, Will and Joe
gathered at the foot of the staircase in the Entrance Hall. Joe wore a black
jacket, baggy blue short trousers and a rather gnarled black cap (Gump and
Sabian had taken it in turns to nibble at it.)

As the clock finished chiming, they heard movement
from above and Becky appeared, stomping noisily down the stairs.
 
She glared at Joe, who was on the verge of
laughing. ‘If you say a word, I’ll strangle you with your own knickerbockers.’

Uncle Percy ignored her outburst, his face glittering
with pride. ‘You look quite beautiful, my dear.’

‘I look like a bog roll with legs!’

‘No, Miss Becky,’ Will said. ‘You look enchanting.’

Becky felt a sudden rush of blood to her cheeks.
Maybe the dress wasn’t so awful, after all
.

*

Although it was an extremely muggy day, the Time
Room felt cool and fresh as an eager Becky watched Bertha emerged from the
lower levels. She turned to Uncle Percy, who inserted a small cube of
Gerathnium into the time machine. ‘If we’re only going back a hundred years,
what are we going to do with Bertha? She’ll stand out like a sore thumb.’

‘I’m glad you asked me that, Becky,’ Uncle Percy
replied. ‘All time machines are equipped with a standard
Invisiblator
. Observe…’ He withdrew a
device from his trouser pocket and pressed a button marked with the letter ‘I’.
At once, Bertha vanished.

‘Whoa!’ Joe exclaimed.

‘It’s invisible,’ Becky panted.

‘Indeed,’ Uncle Percy said, rapping his knuckles
against where Bertha’s doors used to be. A resounding metallic
clank
echoed through the room.
 
‘The effect is achieved using a series of
expandent mirrors
and
nanocameras
that record and broadcast
the immediate area around the machine. It’s the image playback that gives the
illusion of invisibility. It’s rather old technology, but still effective.’ He
pressed the button again and the campervan reappeared. ‘Anyway, best make
tracks. Next stop - the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, 16
^th
January,
1900…’

*

Bertha materialised in a narrow side street. Thick
snow shrouded the deserted street and a scrawny black cat clawed a dead mouse
in the gutter. The cat glanced up at the campervan, temporarily puzzled, but
then turned back to its lifeless quarry.

‘Out, please.’ Uncle Percy opened the door and
retrieved the Invisiblator remote. ‘Quick as you can.’ He leapt out. Everybody
followed.

Straightening his hat, Uncle Percy pressed the ‘I’
button and the campervan disappeared. Pulling out his fob watch, he turned to
the waiting group. ‘It’s due to snow again in precisely forty-eight minutes, so
we need to return by then otherwise there’ll be a campervan shaped snowman.’

Becky’s first thought was that Victorian Oxford
didn’t seem much different from any modern city, until they entered the main
street and saw a wooden cart, brimming with coal, being drawn by a gigantic shire
horse. Dozens of people trudged the long, bustling road, some in formal attire,
others wearing little more than rags. A red-haired woman with a dirt-stained
face shivered on the street corner, clutching a bucket brimming with wilted
flowers.

A short while later, Uncle Percy
stopped and pointed at a very grand building.
‘The Ashmolean Museum.’

Becky glanced at Will, whose eyes were bright and
alert, flitting in all directions. She noticed he maintained an unusually firm
grip on his walking cane.

Entering the high doors, Uncle Percy strode purposefully
to the front desk. Finding it deserted, he slapped a brass bell, which sent
a
echoing clang through the large, airy lobby. A middle-aged
woman scrambled from a door behind the counter. ‘I’m sorry, I just -’

‘No matter, dear lady,’ Uncle Percy said in an unusually
pompous voice. ‘I’m Colonel Igidor Puffbury from the Royal Academy of
Antiquities. I have an appointment with Arthur Evans regarding his recent
excavation at Knossos.’

Becky held back a giggle.

The woman stared at Uncle Percy blankly. Placing her
glasses on the tip of her crooked nose, she opened a leather bound volume to
her left. ‘You do, sir?’ She studied a page carefully. ‘Colonel Puffbury, you
say? I’m afraid I don’t seem to have- ’

‘Nevermind,’ Uncle Percy said, with a flick of his
hand. ‘Arthur and I go way back. It’s this way, isn’t it?’ Before the woman could
protest, he was leading the others down a winding passageway with a succession
of wooden doors on either side. Seconds later, they were standing beside a
thick oak door with a polished brass sign that read
Arthur J Evans, Chief Curator
.
Uncle Percy knocked vigorously on
the door.

Arthur Evans sat behind his mahogany desk, polishing
a ceramic figurine with a worn brown cloth. Evans, a slim, affable looking man
with a thick moustache and short, curly brown hair tinged with flecks of grey,
looked up, surprised. ‘Come in!’ He set the figurine down.

Uncle Percy opened the door and marched into the
room.

Becky noticed a strong smell of stale tobacco as she
followed.

Arthur Evans looked up. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Good morning, Mr Evans,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I’m Colonel
Igidor Puffbury.’

‘Good morning, Colonel Puffbury,’ Evans said,
slightly bewildered.

‘May I introduce you to my manservant,
Shakelock.
’
 
Uncle
Percy nodded at Will, who glared back at him. ‘And my two charges, Rebecca and
Joe.’

‘Hey up,’ Joe grinned.

‘Hiya,’ Becky said.

Evans didn’t really know what to say. ‘Err, hello to
you all,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting you.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t be, Mr Evans. I never make
appointments because I never like to break them. And I’m such a busy fellow I
surely would.’ Uncle Percy nodded at the figurine. ‘Wonderful piece you have
there.
A Cycladic statuette of Amorgos unless I’m very much
mistaken.
One of your finds?’

‘Y-Yes,’ Evans replied, surprised. ‘How did you -’

‘I’m in the game,’ Uncle Percy said nonchalantly. ‘As
a matter of fact, that’s why we’re here.’ He withdrew the disc and positioned it
carefully on the table. ‘I was wondering if you could tell me anything about
this.’

Evans’ brow furrowed as he picked up the disc.
‘W-w-where did you get this?’ he stammered. He pulled an eyepiece from his
jacket pocket and fixed it over his right eye.

‘Cairo. I was leading a dig there.’

‘Cairo, you say?’ Evans said sounding astonished.
‘But this is amazing. I have an identical piece. It’s at my apartment in London
waiting for a metallurgist friend of mine to examine it.’

‘Really?’
Uncle Percy said, feigning surprise. ‘What an astonishing coincidence. And, if
I may be so bold, where did you find yours?’

‘At Knossos.
On the island of Crete,’ Evans replied, flipping the disc over and allowing his
fingers to glide over the surface markings. ‘This is quite remarkable. I
thought mine was unique.’

‘Knossos, you say?
Where exactly
at Knossos?’

‘It was lying on the bed of a lagoon.’

‘How interesting,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘And where was
this lagoon?’

Evans removed his eyepiece. ‘I found a tunnel that
connects the city of Knossos to the Aegean Sea. Anyway, there were dozens of
caves leading from this tunnel, and the lagoon was in the largest of those
caves.’

‘Well, isn’t that just fascinating,’ Uncle Percy
said.

‘It’s more than that,’ Evans added. ‘I believe the
tunnel to be one of my most important discoveries.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You
see, I actually believe – well, I believe the tunnel is the site that legend
has termed
The Labyrinth
.’ Evans broke eye contact and focused rather
uncomfortably on his inkwell.

‘The Labyrinth?’
Uncle Percy expressed with genuine interest.
‘As in the
fabled location where Theseus slew the Minotaur?’

Becky heard Joe gasp. And she knew why - if memory
served, Theseus was one of the fifty Argonauts that accompanied Jason in the
search for the Golden Fleece. Could Theseus have actually existed?

‘If you believe that kind of thing,
yes.’
Evans replied. ‘That, in fact, is why
I’ve named it
The Theseus Disc
.
So you found your disc in Cairo; may I ask where?’

‘In a pyramid,’ Uncle Percy replied, rather
unconvincingly. ‘A very small pyramid occupied by a very minor Pharaoh.’

Becky had to stop herself from laughing.

‘Really?’
Evans said.
‘Amazing.’

Uncle Percy smiled weakly.
‘Anyway,
any ideas as to the origin of your disc?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Evans said. ‘To my knowledge,
these discs are like nothing found before. They bear no physical relation to
any civilisation that has ever existed. The metal is unlike any I’ve
encountered. The markings are utterly unique in any cultures I’ve encountered.
It’s safe to say this disc, and yours now, of course, may be the some of the most
important finds in the history of archaeology.’

Becky stared at Evans and a wave of guilt swept
through her. Arthur Evans appeared genuinely thrilled by his discovery. Yet he
would never see that discovery again. He would never learn the disc’s story. He
would not be a part of its future.

The Theseus Disc would from now on only ever exist
in his memory.

*

Becky, Joe, Will and Uncle Percy retraced their
steps down the main road, satisfied expressions on their faces. Even Will had
become more relaxed as they approached the time machine.

Becky had never seen Joe more animated.

‘Theseus was an Argonaut, wasn’t he?’ Joe said
excitedly.