The Curiosity Machine (2 page)

This was
not
art.

With a shrug he stowed the frame inside his belly pouch. A second later the security guard appeared behind him and smashed a vase over Alphonse's head.

‘Eep!' Alphonse clamped his hands over the back of his skull and stared in horror at the shattered pieces of priceless porcelain on the floor. He looked up to find the
guard about to hurl a Greek figurine at him.

Alphonse caught the statue in one hand and a flying Ming Dynasty bowl in the other. He managed to place them on an antique table but the guard tackled him, and Alphonse, the figurine, the bowl and the table crashed to the floor. The two men wrestled in a tangle of flailing limbs across the zebra skin, coating themselves in the spilled chloroform until Alphonse managed to roll the guard onto his stomach and hold his face to the rug long enough for the man to succumb again to the fumes. Alphonse sat back on his rump and surveyed the damage. The room looked like a wrecking ball had been through it. Giddy from the chloroform that had soaked into his clothes, Alphonse stumbled into the corridor, past the bedsheet where it lay rumpled in the doorway and barged straight into the lounge room. The blinking red eye of the motion detector stared down at him and a whooping siren shattered the night. Alphonse was on autopilot. His head was swimming and the floor moved in ways that were not at all helpful. He made it to the window but rather than open it, he poked his arms, a leg and his head through the hole in the glass, and got Winnie-the-Pooh stuck.

The fresh air outside washed some sense into his brain. He blinked away the fog and tried to squeeze his way through. But he was wedged in tight. Alphonse looked back over his shoulder into the room only to see that the lumpy cheetah-skin rug in front of the
fireplace appeared to be waking up. The big cat yawned, spreading a formidable set of jaws that housed an even more remarkable set of teeth.

Alphonse's eyes popped as the cheetah stretched, and started prowling the room, moving ever closer to the strange creature that was stuck in the window. The beast sniffed at Alphonse's backside, and creased its brow.

The art thief held his breath. Maybe the chloroform in his clothes would be strong enough to knock out the cheetah. The big cat sniffed at the bulging backside once more, then blinked. It yawned wide. Its front legs gave way, and as it was collapsing to the floor, as if by instinct, it clamped its jaws like a bear trap around Alphonse's buttocks.

The Falcon launched out of the window as if he had been fired from a cannon, and even the night creatures in the surrounding jungle were shocked into silence by the sheer intensity of his screams.

Chapter 1

Even a billionaire looks forward to his birthday, especially when it's his fourteenth and it coincides with the first week of school holidays.

‘“The festival of Gerald”?' Ruby Valentine blew the steam from her mug of hot chocolate and gazed over the rim at Gerald Wilkins. ‘Even for you that's a bit rich.'

‘Don't be such a grumble bum.' Ruby's twin brother Sam tossed another marshmallow into the back of his mouth. ‘If the richest kid in the world can't have a month-long birthday party, then who can? It's not like you wouldn't do the same if you had the chance.'

Ruby screwed up her face at her brother, but she had no response. Sam was right. The invitation to celebrate Gerald's birthday on a cruise from Bora Bora in the South
Pacific to his private island in the Caribbean was not something to refuse.

Gerald cracked a broad smile and grabbed a handful of hot chips from the paper cup on the café table. ‘Tell me honestly,' he said to Ruby, his eyes sparkling, ‘where would you rather be on your holidays: half-frozen in London or about to start an adventure here in New Zealand? Take your time in answering. There's no rush.'

Ruby stared at him. It was no contest. Winter in Britain had lingered right into April, like an unwelcome houseguest. And it was a houseguest who had used all the hot water, picked at his toenails during dinner, and hogged the television remote. In contrast, Gerald Wilkins' fourteenth birthday was looming as the epic event that might be expected for the richest boy on the planet. The Archer corporate jet had already flown Gerald and his three closest friends—Ruby and Sam Valentine and Felicity Upham—to New Zealand on the first leg of what promised to be their grandest journey yet. Also on board were Gerald's mother and father, Vi and Eddie, together with the Valentines' parents, Francis and Alice, and the usual retinue of hangers-on, golfing buddies and staff, all overseen by the housekeeper, Mrs Rutherford, and the butler, Mr Fry.

Gerald, Ruby, Sam and Felicity were lounging around the private jet terminal at Christchurch airport while the giant Airbus took on fuel.

‘I have to say, Gerald, of all the trips we've taken
with you in the past year, this one looks like it's going to be the best,' Sam said, stuffing away more marshmallows.

‘That wouldn't take much,' Ruby said with a snort. ‘Every time you head off on a journey with Gerald you never know if it's going to be your last. You're likely to end up with a bag over your head and a knife in your kidneys.'

Gerald almost choked on one of his chips. ‘It hasn't been that bad, has it?' he said.

Ruby tilted her head to one side. ‘Let's see,' she said, numbering off on the fingers of her left hand. ‘There was our first holiday with you at Avonleigh…'

Sam piped up from his side of the table. ‘Where Sir Mason Green sliced my leg open with a sword in an underground burial chamber, right?'

‘And where we were almost cut down by a volley of arrows from a two-thousand-year-old booby trap,' Ruby said.

‘And don't forget the holiday we took to forget about that horror,' Sam said.

‘With Alisha Gupta in India. Where you were swallowed up in a pile of sand and we all thought you were dead,' Ruby said.

‘Just before you nearly drowned in a flooding temple,' Sam said. ‘And then there was all the fun we had in Greece with Mason Green's niece.'

‘The lovely Charlotte?' Ruby said, her eyes glinting
with mischief. ‘Who injected both of us with some mind-altering drug so she could test out her hilarious theories about seeing into the future?'

Felicity leaned forward and patted Gerald on the arm. ‘Don't mind them, Gerald,' she said. ‘I'm sure none of that compares with being caught in an avalanche in California while escaping armed bandits on snowmobiles.'

‘Possibly,' Ruby said with a thoughtful nod. ‘But I'd say having a lunatic with a fake nose try to slice out your still-beating heart for a science experiment might just top the list.'

Sam, Ruby and Felicity burst out laughing. Gerald looked at each of them in turn. ‘Are you all quite finished?'

Ruby wiped a tear from her eye and flopped back in her chair. ‘I was going to mention our glamour weekend in New York where you were almost gassed to death and the rest of us were nearly swept into the Manhattan sewage system under the Billionaire's Club, but yes—I think we're done.'

Gerald knew they were only poking fun, but it was a fair point: ever since inheriting the twenty-billion-pound estate of his Great Aunt Geraldine Archer less than a year ago, life had taken on an unusual level of complexity. After the fiasco at the Billionaire's Club in the mid-term break, Gerald had been pleased to get back to the school camp in the Scottish Highlands. But it had only taken a
few days of bone-shattering cold and meals of lukewarm baked beans to have him dreaming about his birthday. April could not have rolled around fast enough.

‘Look, I know some of the other trips might have been odd,' Gerald began.

‘Only odd?' Ruby said.

‘Well, if not odd, then a little bit weird,' Gerald said. ‘But my birthday should be drama free. The only thing between us and the Archer island is a week on a luxury super yacht with every comfort thrown in, and a trip through the Panama Canal. It's as simple and straightforward as that.' Gerald knew that very little in his life was simple or straightforward but he felt confident that he had clocked up sufficient bizarreness in the previous year to last him several lifetimes.

They were interrupted by Gerald's mother, who leaned over Sam's shoulder to deliver the news that there was a problem with refuelling the jet. ‘I'm afraid we'll be delayed here for another four hours,' Vi Wilkins said. ‘But I think I can come up with a way for you to pass the time. How about a helicopter ride to the top of a glacier?'

There was a moment's stunned silence around the table, then a burst of fervour.

‘A glacier!'

‘What? Land on top of a glacier in a helicopter?'

‘Yes please!'

‘Will there be any food?'

This last response came from Sam and provoked a
barrage of balled-up paper serviettes from the others. Vi Wilkins fixed him with a wary eye. ‘I was warned about you,' she said. She dropped a St Cuthbert's school backpack onto the table. ‘Mrs Rutherford has fixed you a selection of your favourite snacks for the flight. You won't go hungry.'

Sam's face creased into a smile. ‘Thanks, Mrs Wilkins.'

Vi clapped her hands together as if shooing pigeons in the park. ‘Off you go, then,' she said. ‘Mr Fry will pilot the helicopter—make sure you do as he says.'

‘Aren't you coming?' Gerald asked.

Vi shook her head. ‘I've seen enough snow for one year, dear, what with that horrendous Christmas Eve in the Archer chalet in California. That little affair almost killed me socially. No, you lot run along and I'll see you back here in a couple of hours.'

Mr Fry was completing his pre-flight checks as Gerald, Felicity, Sam and Ruby climbed aboard the helicopter. They settled into the cabin, tugging on seatbelts and placing headsets over their ears. Sam unzipped the backpack, and the aroma of home-baked sausage rolls and party pies filled the chopper with a steaming infusion of lamb and rosemary. He picked out a pie and bit into it.

Mr Fry looked at him with undisguised scorn. ‘Oh look, crumbs everywhere. How marvellous. I must thank Mrs Rutherford for being so thoughtful.'

Sam paused mid-mouthful and met the butler's glare. ‘They're really good,' he said. Flecks of golden pastry flew from his lips. ‘Want one?'

Mr Fry's eyes fell to the confetti shower of crumbs on the sleeve of his jacket. He brushed the bits away with a flick of his fingers. ‘I think I can resist,' he said.

Sam took another bite. ‘You're funny,' he said, coating the butler in another fine spray.

Gerald marvelled at the way the veins in Mr Fry's neck stood out like high-tension cables.

The helicopter was soon skimming across the patchwork of the Canterbury plains and powering towards the rippled spine of mountains that formed New Zealand's spectacular Southern Alps. The sky was painted an autumn cornflower blue as they climbed high over craggy mountaintops dusted with early season snow before plunging into snaking ravines and shooting just above the rapids. Not even Mrs Rutherford's snack box could drag Sam away from the window as Mr Fry jockeyed the chopper above the natural wonders beneath them.

‘This is beyond beautiful!' Felicity's voice squeaked through the headsets of the intercom.

The chopper broached a ridge and the blue-white expanse of a glacier materialised before them. Mr Fry's clipped tones sounded through the headphones: ‘Behold, the Porangi Glacier!'

The chopper passed over deep cracks in the frozen icepack: sheer drops into jagged chasms of what looked
like broken glass. Mr Fry pointed towards the front face of the glacier, which fell to a bubbling river of ice melt that carved a path towards the coast. ‘This glacier has been retreating in recent years because of the warmer climate,' he said. ‘You're lucky to see it like this.' Another helicopter was just taking off from the top of the ice. It disappeared beyond the ridgeline as Mr Fry made his approach. The downdraft from the chopper blades lifted a curtain of snowflakes as they touched down. Mr Fry turned in his seat and handed out Archer Corporation-branded beanies and gloves. ‘I will stay here to keep the rotors turning,' he said, ‘otherwise we'll be in for a long and cold night. Don't wander too far. The ice can be unstable at the edge.'

He gave a quick thumbs up, and Gerald, Felicity, Ruby and Sam rolled out of the chopper and onto the ice. Sam tugged the backpack onto his shoulders—‘Provisions,' he said to Gerald—then dropped to his knees to scoop up a handful of snow. Ruby emitted a satisfying yelp as the resulting snowball splattered across the side of her head. She wiped a hand across her face to clear away the icy sludge. ‘Right,' she muttered.

The resulting snowball war spread across the glacier top. Sam teamed with Felicity and together they rained a barrage of white missiles onto Gerald and Ruby. Gerald took three quick hits to the back of his head. He didn't need any more convincing—he and Ruby dived over a shallow rise for shelter. ‘He's quick,' Gerald said, pressing
his back into the ice shelf. Ruby packed in beside him. Four more snowballs whipped overhead, centimetres from their beanies.

‘That's what you get when you spend more time playing cricket than doing your homework,' Ruby said. She waited for another ball to whizz past, and then jumped up and unleashed an icy missile of her own, dropping back beside Gerald in a single smooth action.

‘Did you get him?' Gerald asked.

An evil grin spread across Ruby's face. ‘In the teeth,' she said.

Gerald scraped together another shot and was about to spring up when he caught a sudden movement from the corner of his eye. The sun was reflecting off the ice, making it difficult to see clearly, but he swore two people in white snowsuits had stepped from the cover of an icy embankment. He shielded his eyes from the glare and looked again. Then he saw them properly: two figures were striding their way. Gerald shook Ruby's arm and she looked up just as one of the figures pulled something from a backpack.