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Jack was about to second what Jaide had said, intending to add that they had to go back to Rodeo Dave soon, but before he could speak he felt a sudden buzz in his pocket. The phone was ringing.
‘I agree with Tara,’ he said. ‘And she’s it!’
With that he ran from the guardhouse, down the stairs and along the corridor, trying doors at random. Most of the rooms were locked on the top floor, but some were open. A broom cupboard would do, just so long as he could get there before his father hung up.
He found a door that would open and flung himself through it, slamming the door shut behind him, not seeing what the room contained. He didn’t even turn on the light. Jack could see perfectly well with the lights out.
He whipped the phone from his pocket and pressed the flashing green button.
‘Dad?’
‘Hello, Jack,’ came the voice on the other end of the call. ‘You sound out of breath. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to pick up.’
‘Had to hide from Tara,’ he gasped. ‘We’re in the castle!’
‘I know. I saw you arrive.’
‘You did?’
‘From the trees. I’ve been waiting for you.’
Jack imagined Hector Shield stretched out on a branch with a pair of binoculars.
‘Did you see Custer go by?’
‘I did, and I’m glad you didn’t interrupt his work. You mustn’t interfere with his concentration. I saw your mother as well – you didn’t tell her about me being here, did you? It would only upset her, and I’ve done enough of that already. Unfortunately Warden business must take priority over our feelings.’
‘No, we haven’t told her.’
‘Good. I know it’s difficult, but it won’t be for long, I promise. Everything will be the way it’s supposed to be once the card is found.’
‘And once Grandma’s better.’
‘Yes . . . that, too.’
Jack’s father sounded distracted and very serious. There wasn’t even a hint of his usual jokey friendliness, reminding Jack that the war against The Evil was far from a game.
‘I don’t have much time,’ Hector said. ‘Tell me what progress you’ve made.’
‘Well, we’ve only just started exploring. The castle is huge. It has hundreds of rooms. Most of them are locked.’
‘You’ll have to find a way into them.’
‘We’re helping Rodeo Dave clear out the library. He has keys . . .’
‘Best to keep him out of Warden affairs. Don’t ask for the keys – or even think about stealing them from him. You don’t want to raise his suspicions.’
The thought had crossed Jack’s mind. He suppressed it with reluctance, although what Rodeo Dave had to be suspicious of, exactly, he didn’t know. But he didn’t want to attract his attention. Rodeo Dave wasn’t a Warden, but he did seem close to Grandma X, and he hadn’t freaked out when the whirlwind had carried him up the drive when they’d first arrived in Portland, so maybe he did know about Warden stuff and The Evil.
‘If it’s not in one of the open rooms, you’ll have to find another way into those locked rooms, one that doesn’t involve David Smeaton or his keys. Perhaps there’s some way you could use your Gifts.’
Jack suddenly remembered something. ‘Of course! It’s just like in The Second Spiral Staircase.’
‘The what?’
‘One of your old books. Don’t you remember? There was a locked room that no one could get into. The keys had been lost. But they found a skeleton key that would work on lots of doors. That’s how they got it open.’
‘Good thinking, Jack. Skeleton keys . . . hmmm. Father . . . your grandfather . . . wasn’t a Warden, but he used to have a key for opening clock cases. It’s probably in the blue room.’
‘We’ll look for it as soon as we can.’
‘Tonight, Jack. It’s vital you find the Card of Translocation as soon as possible.’
‘We will, Dad. Don’t worry. We’ll find it soon, I promise.’
Jack spun around in surprise as a voice suddenly spoke from behind him.
‘Well, you won’t find anything in here, I can assure you of that!’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Seeking and Hiding
THE VOICE HAD COME FROM inside the room in which Jack was hiding, but it belonged to neither Jaide nor Tara. It wasn’t Rodeo Dave, either. It sounded like a grouchy old man.
‘Who’s there?’ Jack scanned the room, an ordinary attic by the look of it, with boxes stacked up against one wall and lumpy furniture covered in sheets along the other. Even with his sensitive night vision, there was no one to be seen. ‘Who said that?’
‘Ignore me and I’ll go away. It won’t be the first time.’
Jack reached out to the nearest sheet and whipped it off the stuffed armchair it covered. No one.
‘Why can’t I find you?’
‘Nobody ever wanted to before.’
‘Are you a ghost?’
‘Of course not!’ Now the voice sounded offended. ‘Although I am dead.’
Jack nerved himself to whip away another sheet, revealing a chest of drawers.
‘Where are you?’
‘If I could see, perhaps I could tell you. It’s so dark in here . . . so very dark.’
Jack reached behind him to turn on the light. It dazzled him for a second, before his eyes adjusted.
‘How’s that?’
‘I can see a white blur, a considerable improvement on my former state, but still far from ideal.’
Jack began tearing at the sheets at random, raising a thick cloud of dust and revealing more armchairs, a selection of tea chests, and one broken hat stand.
‘Don’t trouble yourself, sir,’ said the voice. ‘Just turn the light off and leave. That’s what I would do in your shoes. I was rather unpopular even when I was alive.’
The second-to-last sheet revealed a table. On the table was a selection of oddments: candlesticks, chipped plates, a tarnished silver service, and something that Jack mistook for a scuffed plaster bust similar to the one of Mister Rourke in the library . . . until it moved.
‘Gadzooks!’ it said, blinking up at him. ‘Are you a child or has everyone evolved into midgets during my absence?’
Jack stared at the plaster head in amazement, or the half-head, since it was really only the face – behind the ears was just a flat surface. It wasn’t a very flattering face at that. The nose was too large and the cheeks too fleshy. The head had no hair, and its chin receded sharply, giving its expression a look of permanent disapproval. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing an artist would make to flatter a rich patron. It looked entirely too . . . authentic.
‘What are you?’ Jack asked.
‘Don’t you mean who was I? Professor Jasper Frederik Olafsson, at your service. Forgive me for not bowing. You haven’t answered my question, remember.’
‘I’m not a midget,’ said Jack, although he did wonder sometimes if he was growing too slowly. ‘I just came in here to talk to . . . whoops, hang on.’
Jack had forgotten the phone and his father. He turned away and raised it to his ear. Nothing but silence. Hector Shield had hung up.
He had sent a text message, though: Call you tonight 9pm. Keep looking.
‘What is that contraption?’ asked the head calling itself Professor Jasper Frederik Olafsson. ‘The last time I was uncovered, people still spoke face to face. Is this the way people communicate in your world – via machine?’
‘What do you mean, in my world? It’s the same as your world, surely.’
‘Most likely, but your present is my future. Everything changes: that is the only certainty. I must therefore take nothing for granted.’
Jack put the phone away. ‘We still talk face to face, mainly, but there are lots of other ways, too. How long have you been down here?’
‘I have no way to tell,’ Professor Olafsson said. ‘There is no clock in this room. I cannot see the daylight coming or going, so I cannot count the days. I have no pulse, even.
Just the sensation that a vast epoch of time has passed – large enough that young men such as yourself are not startled by the apparition of a talking death mask. Are you considered normal for your kind?’
