History Keepers 1: The Storm Begins (3 page)

That was when Jupitus Cole and Norland the
chauffeur
had stepped out of the shadows in front of the Royal Observatory.

Of course, Jake wouldn’t realize until days later the pertinence of this location: the Royal Observatory was the place where, in 1668, Mr Hooke of the newly founded Royal Society, among others, had worked on linking space and time.

That encounter with Jupitus and Norland had taken place just a short while ago, and Jake was now sitting in this extraordinary room with his life, as Jupitus had warned him, about to change ‘incontrovertibly’.

Jupitus’s office door opened suddenly. ‘You can come in now, Mr Djones,’ he said tersely.

Jake stood up and approached the doorway. For a moment he was rooted to the spot. He looked back and found everyone staring at him. Rumbled, they quickly carried on with their tasks, and Jake went in.

3 S
HIPS AND
D
IAMONDS

‘SHUT THE DOOR
,’ barked Jupitus. Jake closed it carefully.

Jupitus was already seated behind his desk, scribbling furiously with his fountain pen. He had changed into new clothes almost identical to the ones he had been wearing before: white collar, black tie, a dark, tailed jacket, and trousers with a faint stripe. His wet clothes lay in a heap on the floor.

Jake looked around the wood-panelled office. It was a veritable treasure-trove of extraordinary objects. There was the marble bust of a Roman emperor, a cabinet displaying swords and antique weaponry, a tiger silently roaring, ancient paintings of noblemen and royalty, and yet more globes and maps. Next to the crackling fireplace was a large stuffed bird with a distinctive curved beak.

‘Is that …?’

‘A dodo, yes,’ snapped Jupitus, without even looking up. ‘One of the last to walk this earth. Though obviously its walking days are now over. So, you’re wondering what you’re doing here? Who
we
all are?’

‘That would be an understatement. How do you know my family?’ Jake asked.

‘I need to check your eyes first,’ announced Jupitus, ignoring his question.

‘My eyes …?’

Jupitus opened a drawer in his desk and took out an instrument finely crafted in dark wood and silver. It was a loupe, an eyepiece such as jewellers wear to look at precious gemstones. Jupitus fitted it over his right eye and pulled the strap tight about his head. He came round the desk.

‘Sit on that chair,’ he ordered.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my eyes.’

Jupitus waited for Jake to do as he was told. Jake reluctantly sat.

‘Put your bag there.’ Jupitus waved his fingers at Jake’s school bag. Jake took it off and placed it on the desk. Jupitus turned a dial on the instrument to switch on a circular light,
then
lifted Jake’s chin. ‘Eyes wide open, please.’ He leaned in and examined the boy’s right pupil through his device.

‘What
is
this?’

‘Ssssh!’ Jupitus moved onto the left pupil, screwing up his face to focus on what he saw there. ‘Now close your eyes, quickly.’

Jake obliged. Jupitus shone the light onto each closed lid in turn.

‘Now tell me what shapes you see, in the darkness of your vision.’

‘Shapes? I … I don’t see any shapes.’

‘Of course you do! There are shapes. Shapes of different sizes, but all of the same configuration. Oblongs, squares, circles? Look carefully. Which do you see?’

Jake concentrated hard – and indeed did start to see something. ‘I suppose they look like … diamonds.’

‘
Diamonds
? Really? Not rectangles? Not squares?’ Jupitus demanded impatiently.

‘Absolutely. Diamond shapes. I can see them everywhere now.’

Jupitus looked angry, as if he had been insulted. ‘Are their shapes symmetrical, well-defined, or in-distinct?’ he persisted.

‘Well-defined, I think.’

Jupitus took a deep, quivering breath. ‘Lucky you,’ he said, almost inaudibly, then pulled the instrument off Jake’s head and threw it down on the desk. He returned to his seat.

‘I’ll get straight to the point. We are leaving for France. We are travelling by ship. We need you to accompany us.’

Jake chuckled in disbelief. ‘Excuse me? France?
Tonight
?’

‘I understand it is short notice. We will supply clothes, food, whatever you need. Do you suffer from seasickness? It will be stormy.’

‘No, I don’t. Sorry, this is … Who
are
you people?’

Jupitus glared at him. ‘Perhaps you would like to stay in London – at that dull, insipid school of yours. Day after day of tedious study. Dates and equations.’ With a leisurely hand, he opened Jake’s bag and took out one of the books. He flicked through its pages. ‘For what? To pass some pointless exams? To go on to “higher” education? To be rewarded with a tiresome, bland employment followed by a slow, meaningless death?’

Jake shook his head in utter bewilderment.

Jupitus snapped the book shut and threw it back into the bag. ‘If you want education, the
world
is the place to find it. It’s a richer, more complex place than you could ever imagine.’

Jake looked at the man in front of him. The phrase that he had just uttered somehow struck a chord within him. ‘Well, it’s not just school …’ he began. ‘Somehow I don’t think my parents would really appreciate my disappearing with a group of strange people to France. No offence – but you all seem completely mad, dressed like that, talking in that old-fashioned way.’ He tried to keep calm, but his hands were shaking.

‘Your parents, you say? It is on their account that I am asking you to accompany us. They are missing, you see.’

‘What?’ Jake gasped. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The chances are that they will be safe. They are survivors, both of them. And certainly they have faced many perils over the years. But the fact is, we have lost contact. For three days. And we are concerned.’

Jake’s head was swimming. ‘I’m sorry … I don’t understand. How do you know them?’

Jupitus Cole stared at Jake coolly before
answering
. ‘We work for the same organization.’ He swept his elegant hand around the room. ‘
This
organization,’ he added.

There was silence for a moment, then Jake laughed out loud. ‘You’ve made a mistake. My parents sell bathrooms. Sinks, bidets, toilets. As we speak, they are returning from a trade fair in Birmingham. But of course you might know that
if
you knew them—’

‘Alan and Miriam Djones,’ Jupitus interjected, ‘aged forty-five and forty-three respectively. Married on the island of Rhodes, in an orange grove by the sea. I was there. An unforgettable day,’ he added without a hint of passion. ‘The name “Djones” is, of course, unusual – the D being silent. One living son’ – Jupitus pointed languidly at Jake – ‘Jake Archie Djones, aged fourteen. Unaware of status. A further son, Philip Leandro Djones, died at the age of fifteen, three years ago.’

‘Stop this!’ Jake leaped to his feet, furious. Jupitus had touched, with sickening nonchalance, on the one subject that was sacred to Jake – his older brother, Philip. ‘I’ll leave the way I came in! Ships to France and staring into my eyes … You’re all lunatics.’ He glared at Jupitus as he grabbed his bag,
then
turned and stormed towards the door. As he crossed the room, his emotions got the better of him, and his lip trembled, but he regained control of himself.

‘If you leave now, you may never see your parents again!’ Jupitus announced – so forcefully that it made Jake stop dead in his tracks. Terror gripped him.

‘As you were told, your aunt will meet us here,’ Jupitus continued in a calmer tone. ‘She will be joining us on our journey. She will reassure you. That’s providing she arrives in time. Punctuality was never her strong point.’

Jake turned. He was now so confused, he was unable to process anything.

‘
If
you want to find your parents,
if
you want to stay alive, you really have no choice but to come with us,’ Jupitus concluded sombrely.

Jake spoke in a daze. ‘Exactly where in France are you going?’

For the first time, Jupitus looked at him with just the faintest glimmer of respect. ‘To a place you have certainly never been.’

There was a firm knock on the door and a business-like voice announced, ‘Captain Macintyre.’

‘Come in,’ instructed Jupitus.

The door opened and revealed a sturdy, energetic-looking man wearing a sea captain’s tunic. He nodded at Jake and then addressed Jupitus.

‘Mr Cole. If you have a moment, we need to clarify co-ordinates.’ Macintyre set down a map on Jupitus’s desk. It was an old chart that showed the coast of Britain, the North Sea and the English Channel. ‘I’m concerned, sir, that if we take our usual eastern horizon point’ – Macintyre indicated a star-like symbol in the North Sea – ‘we may be intercepted by anything heading this way. So I suggest we take
this
horizon point, south by south-east.’

There was another knock at the open doorway. One of the uniformed men was standing to attention with an empty crate in his hands.

‘Sorry to disturb, Mr Cole, sir. What would you like me to pack from your office?’ the man asked politely.

Jupitus went over to a glass cabinet containing large old books, opened it and pointed to specific volumes in turn: ‘The Galileo, of course, the Newton … the Shakespeare.’ He stopped and took an ancient manuscript down from the shelf. Jake
craned
his neck to see what it was. On the front he could just make out handwriting in faded purple ink:
Macbeth, a new play for the Globe
. Jake felt a shiver go down his spine when he realized that the author had signed his name in the same hand-writing:
William Shakespeare
.

Jupitus handed the book to the uniformed man. ‘Just take them
all
. God knows when we’ll be back.’

He removed a painting from the wall and unlocked a safe. Reaching into the cavity, he took out a bundle of ancient banknotes and threw them into a suitcase. Then he removed a bulging leather purse and emptied the contents into his hand: glittering diamonds, emeralds and tourmalines. He replaced them in the pouch and flung it into the case.

Jupitus retrieved the last object – a small veneered box.
This
he handled very carefully. Snug within its velvet casing were three objects. In the middle was a device in gleaming silver, about the size of an egg cup, with many intricate dials and gauges. On either side of this were two miniature glass bottles. One bottle was plain and contained a grey liquid; the other was beautifully carved in crystal and contained a golden fluid. With
the
utmost care, Jupitus took out this second bottle and held it up to the light. It was a quarter full and glimmered with a faint spectral aura.

Jupitus realized that Jake was still in the room. ‘That will be all, Mr Djones.’

‘I … where should I …?’ Jake floundered.

‘Wait through there for further instructions.’

Jake found himself nodding obediently. As he left the room he heard Jupitus booming, ‘Right, Macintyre, where were we? Co-ordinates south by south-east …’

4 T
HE
E
SCAPE

JAKE RETURNED, DAZED
, to the library. His mind was in turmoil. Half of him, the logical half, wanted to get away from this crazy place – to call his aunt – to find his parents – to report the incident – to try and re-establish normality. The other half was urging him to stay: to find out who these people were; how it was that they knew so much about his parents; and, in particular, how they knew about his brother Philip.

Nearly three years ago, Philip had gone on a school trip – climbing in the Pyrenees. He had been fifteen. He’d loved expeditions more than anything – mountaineering, sailing, canoeing – and had an unquenchable passion for adventure. He longed to trek across deserts, through forests and jungles, discover unknown places.

On this particular trip he had disappeared on his own, without permission, to ascend a notorious peak. Night had fallen. Philip never returned. Exhaustive searches were made of many of the deep ravines, but his body wasn’t found. The laughter that had always filled the house of the Djones family had stopped; instead there was only miserable silence. The sound of the phone ringing had been the only respite from the unbearable tension. For a moment, sleep-deprived eyes would come alive with hope … only to be disappointed when the call was answered. Jake had been eleven at the time and the loss had left a deep, irreparable wound.

Jake’s parents were strong; after that first shock they had tried to hold things together. They were always coming up with novel ideas, oddball excursions and family competitions, to keep everyone’s spirits up. But although Jake could appreciate their efforts to keep things upbeat, he couldn’t stop feeling resentful that they had also thrown themselves into their work, frequently disappearing to those blasted trade fairs.

The door from the staircase opened and three people stepped into the room. The first was Norland, the ruddy-faced chauffeur. He was struggling with a
number
of smart suitcases and hat boxes. The second figure was new to Jake: a tall, haughtily elegant woman in a long fur coat with silky tails hanging from its hem. He guessed that this was the lady whom Jupitus had referred to as ‘her majesty’. Norland escorted her across the room and into the corridor beyond.

The third was a girl, and the sight of her made Jake’s throat go dry, his lips freeze and his eyes widen, without him even realizing it. She had a quizzical, playful smile, long golden locks tumbling about her shoulders, and her large eyes, shimmering somewhere between blue and indigo, sparkled with life. She was slender and also filled with restless, radiant energy.

With a few quick glances about the room, the girl seemed to compute everything that was going on. She spied Jake and swept over towards him.

‘What’s happening? Do we know?
Nous partons tout de suite
? Is it a mission?’

Jake’s heart melted a little more: she spoke with an infectiously lilting French accent, asking these questions as if she had known Jake all her life. He struggled to force his face into a confident smile, but achieved only a tremulous grin.