Curse of the Ancient Mask Read online

  ‘That’s the inscription that sets out the curse,’ said Jasmine. ‘I expect a brilliant detective like you can read exactly what it says.’

  I blushed. ‘Umm . . . actually, no. Not a word. But I know someone who’ll be able to translate it.’

  I plucked my phone from my pocket, took a few pictures of the mask – front, back, side view and so on – and sent them to my friend Izzy.

  ‘Aarrrghhhhh!’

  That was the wailing sound made by Jasmine’s dad, when he walked into the living room and spotted the mask. His face went almost the same shade of grey as the smart suit he was wearing, and his tie seemed to wriggle about with shock. He picked the mask up with the very edges of the fingernails of his thumbs and forefingers, and held it out at arm’s length as if it was a bomb.

  ‘Let’s put it back, shall we?’ he said, shuddering. ‘We don’t want to upset it!’

  ‘Oh, Daaaad!’ cried Jasmine.

  Mr Winchester wasn’t listening. He was busy dabbing the sweat off his forehead with the end of his tie. ‘The curse is bad enough as it is. We mustn’t do anything to make it worse!’

  ‘Mr Winchester?’ I said politely. He paused in the doorway, in mid-step.

  ‘Yes?’ he said quietly, as if a raised voice might make the mask explode.

  ‘How often do you hold meetings in your study?’

  ‘Oh, about once a month,’ whispered Jasmine’s dad. He turned to tiptoe away, then suddenly stopped and looked at me. ‘How do you know about my meetings?’

  I felt like saying ‘I know eeeeverything’, all boggle-eyed, and waving my arms about spookily. But it would only have frightened him.

  ‘I would guess you hold these meetings with a few people from your laboratory? From Microspek Electronics?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mr Winchester. ‘But that’s a secret! I mean, what we talk about is a secret. It’s not a secret that we have meetings. Excuse me, I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment.’

  He hurried away to put the mask back in its place.

  ‘Does all of this tell you anything else?’ said Jasmine. ‘Apart from the fact that my dad’s normal intelligence seems to have been drained away since this curse business started.’

  ‘It’s too early to say,’ I admitted.

  Over the next few afternoons, I made careful notes about whatever I saw at the Winchesters’ house. A lot of it turned out to be irrelevant to the case, so I won’t write it all down here. But I filled several pages with information about Mr Winchester’s movements between the hours of teatime and seven p.m., about Mrs Winchester’s motorcycle repair activities, and about the workings of the Jujitzu T60 she was fixing that week.

  I lurked in a few too many dark corners, I’m afraid. More than once, I made Mr Winchester jump out of his skin and scream when he caught sight of me lurking. But once I’d explained, using my pre-prepared cover story (‘Jasmine and I are playing Hide and Seek, and I’m hiding’), and once he’d calmed down, he was OK about it.

  Soon, I’d got as much information as I could from Jasmine’s house. It was time to investigate further!

  A Page From My Notebook

  The plot was getting as thick as the custard in the school canteen. By now, I could add some more facts to my case notes:

  Fact: There IS a link between the mask and the laboratory: those meetings. BUT! It’s a VERY thin link! All it proves is that people from Mr Winchester’s lab have SEEN the mask. Does THAT mean anything? And if it does, WHAT does it mean?

  Fact: Mr Winchester isn’t the only one in that household with technological knowledge. Jasmine’s mum is clearly an expert in mechanics. Is that important? Could SHE be the one leaking the information to PosiSpark?

  Fact: Jasmine’s house is a lot posher than mine. That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a fact.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ISOBEL MOUSTIQUE IS ONE OF my very best friends. She’s in my class at school and she’s even cleverer than I am! After I texted those pictures of the mask to her, I went to see her the following day.

  Izzy lives a couple of streets away from me. Her room is extremely girly, with a swirly-patterned rug on the mauve carpet, and twinkly lights fixed in a huge spiral around the ceiling. Not the sort of room you’d normally find me hanging out in.

  But don’t let that fool you. There’s nothing pink and fluffy about Izzy herself; she gets top marks for everything at school, and she knows enough facts to fill an encyclopedia (and then still have enough facts left over to compile a really difficult quiz). Believe me, that girl is sharper than a freshly sharpened needle in a sharp needle shop!

  ‘Saxby Smart,’ she said, giving me that lopsided smile of hers. ‘I got your texts. Need my help again, do you?’

  ‘Ooooh,’ I said, doing a quick roll of the eyes, my mouth set in a silly O-shape. ‘I just thought you might like the chance to catch me up on this one. You know, see if you can come to the same conclusions as quickly as I did. That sort of thing.’

  ‘Catch you up?’ said Izzy, with an expression which made her look like a tiger about to pounce. Well, a friendly tiger, anyway. ‘Saxby, I doubt you’ve come to the same conclusions about this mask as I have.’

  ‘Ooooh, really? Here are my conclusions,’ I said. ‘This mask is Japanese. It is very old, it was worn by a samurai warrior. From its weight I’d say it was made of teak or a similar hardwood. Not environmentally friendly, but then they didn’t have global warming in the eighteenth century, did they? And it has a Japanese inscription on the back, which goes on about a curse that will befall anyone who blah, blah, blah. I think that’s about it.’

  I folded my arms and grinned at her.

  ‘Almost totally wrong,’ she said. She grinned back at me, looking more tiger-like than ever.

  ‘WHAT?’ I spluttered.

  Izzy had done her research. She’d checked books, she’d checked the internet, and she’d checked her vast brain for facts about masks. On the screen of her computer, she opened up the photos I’d sent her and pointed out three things:

  1.The mask was made from pine, or a similar softwood, which is light in weight. You could tell this from the patterns in the wood where it had been cut to make the mask.

  2.The face on the mask had nothing to do with samurai warriors. It was based on a demon found in traditional Thai theatre.

  3.However, the writing on the back of the mask was indeed Japanese. It translated as ‘Power plastic wobble television, blue teeth microwave paint circuit between electric lamp.’

  For a second or two I stood there, on Izzy’s curly-patterned rug, completely silent. I was very embarrassed.

  ‘WHAT?’ I repeated.

  ‘It all checks out,’ said Izzy. ‘That mask is a fake. I think it’s nothing more than a cheaply-made souvenir. It looks like Jasmine’s dad simply got duped into buying a rather badly-done imitation. It’s not even very old. You wouldn’t find the Japanese characters for “television” or “plastic” painted on a genuine antique, would you?’

  Unexpected as Izzy’s findings were, there was no disputing them. Izzy is never wrong.

  ‘Your info is as vital as ever, Iz,’ I said sadly.

  ‘Where does this leave your investigation?’ Izzy asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I told her.

  I gave her a cheery wave. She went back to her books. I went back to my shed. I sat in my Thinking Chair, propped my feet up on my desk, and fixed my face into the special detective-type expression I’d been practising in the bathroom mirror: eyes narrowed, one eyebrow raised, everything else showing steely determination.

  I thought about Izzy’s first point. The one about the mask being made of a soft wood, like pine. How could I have got that so wrong?

  And then it struck me! There was a clear difference between what I had thought, based on handling the mask, and what Izzy could tell, by looking at the photos of it. And this difference meant something very important! Something about how the mask was constructed!

  The
mask had to be made of something else, in addition to the wood. To me, it felt quite heavy, remember? But Izzy made it clear that the wood it was made from should have been quite light in weight. So the mask must have been made of something else as well. Something out of sight!

  This was getting interesting! I thought about Izzy’s second point, the one about the mask having nothing to do with samurai warriors. It would be very strange for a Japanese souvenir, bought in Japan, to have got a detail like that wrong. After all, if I went on a day trip down to London, souvenirs of the place wouldn’t include the Statue of Liberty, or the Leaning Tower of Pisa! No matter who had made them, or where they’d been made, they’d include Big Ben, the London Eye and so on and so on.

  Which made we wonder: Was it just a cheap, touristy souvenir after all?

  And this made me think about Izzy’s third point, the one about the writing on the back of the mask.

  Immediately, another important deduction snapped into place! I checked my notebook, and Izzy’s translation. There was something staring at me from the words of that painted inscription about who had made the mask.

  Whoever made the mask could not speak Japanese. That inscription was not a curse. Well, obviously. But it wasn’t anything – it was a load of nonsense! The person who painted those Japanese characters on to the mask clearly had no idea what they meant!

  And then, another important deduction followed on from that! I almost fell off my Thinking Chair, I was so impressed with my own cleverness.

  Let’s take a close look at that nonsense-writing. It said: ‘Power plastic wobble television, blue teeth microwave paint circuit between electric lamp.’

  Now, whoever painted those words – this person who couldn’t speak Japanese – must have copied those characters from somewhere. They were actual Japanese characters, they’d simply been put together to form a load of rubbish.

  So! There was something hugely significant in the words themselves. There was a clear connection here between the mask, whoever made it, and Mr Winchester’s troubles at Microspek Electronics. For the first time, looking at the words used in that inscription, I could establish that the arrival of the mask did seem to be linked to Mr Winchester’s work. How?

  Most of the words used were connected with electronics – Mr Winchester’s work! Terms like ‘television’, ‘microwave’, ‘power’ and ‘electric lamp’ were words you might expect to crop up when writing about electronics.

  I sat in my Thinking Chair, brain zipping along faster than a bike with no brakes on a very steep hill. This case was coming together!

  OK, so whoever painted that inscription – this person who couldn’t speak Japanese – copied the words from something written in Japanese, that was probably all about electronics.

  This was what we detectives would call ‘circumstantial evidence’. It wasn’t actual proof.

  Here’s an example: Proof is when you have a photo of that low-down rat-of-the-classroom Harry Lovecraft stealing your pencil case, and you have three witnesses who saw that low-down rat Harry Lovecraft steal your pencil case. That’s proof. In a case like that, there’s no way that low-down rat Harry Lovecraft could wriggle out of it, or pretend it wasn’t him. You’d have proof.

  Anyway, what I’d been able to deduce about the mask was not proof. The mask could still have been an el cheapo touristy souvenir. But it didn’t seem likely. The writing on the mask could simply have been copied from the instruction manual of someone’s new camcorder. But it didn’t seem likely, not when you add all the other clue-type ingredients into the cooking pot. The mask was very fishy. Fishier than a fish shop that’s just had a fresh delivery of fish!

  The next morning, at school, Jasmine hurried over to me. She looked very worried.

  ‘Saxby!’ she said. ‘Have you made progress on the case?’

  ‘Yes, some,’ I replied, hoping that some was enough. It wasn’t.

  ‘My dad’s in huge trouble now,’ said Jasmine. ‘Microspek’s rivals, PosiSpark, have just announced a new range of mobile phones with built-in printers. That was what my dad was working on. PosiSpark have stolen his idea again! Dad’s boss went purple with rage. He’s told my dad that if this leak of information isn’t stopped by Friday, he’s being suspended from his job.’

  ‘That’s not very fair,’ I said.

  ‘Fair or not, it’s happening,’ said Jasmine. ‘Saxby, you’ve got to do something, and fast!’

  A Page From My Notebook

  Fact: The mask is a fake. It’s not old, it’s not even Japanese.

  Question: How did it get into a souvenir shop in Tokyo? And why?

  Fact: It’s LIKELY (not certain, but likely) that the mask was made by someone with access to lots of stuff written about electronics (including stuff written in Japanese).

  Question: Can I get to the bottom of all this by Friday?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  FOR A COUPLE OF DAYS, things at school kept me away from my shed and my Thinking Chair. Our class had to prepare a set of science demonstrations for Parents’ Evening, and I and my other best friend, Muddy Whitehouse, got stuck with doing stuff about levers and pulleys. He’s brilliant at that sort of thing, but I can’t tell a fulcrum from a plate of spaghetti!

  It was Wednesday before I could properly get back on the trail of the leaking info. Luckily, I’d been able to get some thinking done, and I’d reached some possible conclusions. These possible conclusions now needed to be backed up with some solid facts.

  I emailed Izzy again. I asked her to come up with some general research on the electronics industry – newspaper clippings, background info on Microspek and PosiSpark, things like that. Anything that might have a bearing on the case. She’s much better at doing that sort of thing than I am. She’s very thorough – I skip stuff.

  In the meantime, I returned to Jasmine’s house after school. There were some more questions I needed to ask. More to the point, I needed to slim down my list of suspects. And quickly!

  What was really confusing me in this case was that motive (why the crime happened), opportunity (when the crime happened) and method (how the crime happened) all seemed to be at odds with each other. As I walked over to Jasmine’s house, flipping back and forth through my notebook, I began to realise that this mystery would not be solved without some fresh evidence turning up. You see there were a couple of BUTs here.

  BUT No. 1: The only people who could be leaking the information were the Winchesters themselves, or the people at Microspek – BUT! They had no motive. Mr Winchester’s boss was confident that there was no spy in the lab, remember? (Besides, it seems to me that if you’re going to pay out huge wedges of cash to a spy, you might as well simply hire the people you’re spying on. It would probably be cheaper.)

  BUT No. 2: The only people who did have a motive for the leak were PosiSpark – BUT I had nothing whatsoever to tell me about their opportunity or method. Sure, the mask was highly suspicious, but what was the link between the mask and PosiSpark? It was a souvenir bought in Japan! What link could there possibly be?

  I walked home, intending to go straight to my Thinking Chair.

  CHAPTER SIX

  AS I TURNED THE CORNER into my street, Izzy was arriving with a boxful of paper.

  ‘Here,’ she said, heaving the box into my arms. ‘I’ve printed out the info on the electronics industry you wanted.’

  I stared into the box. It was full to the top, and very heavy.

  ‘It’ll take me weeks to sort through this lot,’ I said sadly.

  ‘You’re telling me,’ said Izzy. ‘I’ve got three more boxes at home. I’ll get my mum to bring me over with the rest in the car later. I thought you’d want to get started straight away. Seeing as you have . . .’ She checked her watch. ‘ . . . roughly forty-eight hours before Jasmine’s dad gets suspended and your reputation as a detective goes down the drain.’

  There was NO WAY that was happening. I wasn’t about to let anyone else be the world’s greatest schoolboy detective!


  I got started at once. The stuff Izzy had got hold of could be separated into three piles: newspaper articles, sales information and trade press. The sales information was facts and figures about Microspek and PosiSpark products, that kind of thing. The trade press was news and info put together for people who worked in electronics – web forum entries, news blogs, or exciting, gripping reading such as Electronic Monthly magazine and Circuit Board Bulletin.

  I gathered the piles on the desk in my shed. One by one, I went through every sheet in the box. Just as I was getting to the bottom sheet, Izzy arrived with the other three boxes. One by one, I went through every sheet in those boxes too.

  Oooooh, it was so boring . . .! Most of what I read went further over my head than a rocket disappearing into space. After a couple of hours I could barely remember my name, let alone the functions of a P238 integrated circuit micro-custard pudding mango whatsit, or whatever it was.

  But then I came across a very interesting newspaper clipping. I sat up straight, blinking and alert. After a quick reminder to myself of what my name was, I set it to one side, on a fourth pile, marked A-HA!

  Apart from minor interruptions (for going to sleep, going to school, going to the loo and eating), I kept on digging through those boxes until eight p.m. the following night. By then, there were four items in my A-HA! pile.

  Here they are. See if you can spot the clues I gathered from them. Some of the info here is not relevant to the case, but some of it is absolutely vital! There are important deductions to be made about the guilty party . . .

  ITEM 1: Newspaper clipping from The Daily Shout, dated nine months ago.

  TECHNO FIRMS FACE BLEAK FUTURE

  HIGH Street spending on electronics has nose-dived.