Kool Kidz: The Serpent of Destruction

© Michael Maguire 2012

This revised and updated edition published by AuthorHouse 2012

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 02/14/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4678-8940-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-8941-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-8942-1 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

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This book is printed on acid-free paper.

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CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Four boys and two girls are finalists in the English speaking section of the Kool Kidz contest. The thrill and excitement of the Isle of Wight competition is disrupted by their discovery that a priceless treasure has been hidden in the trophy one of them will win. The thieves are determined to collect the treasure—at all costs.

But are they a match for: Scott Rios with his electric skateboard; Erica Toledo with her self-defence skills; Tamara Bryson’s underwater experience; KGB with his amazing IQ; and Lloyd Crawford who, with his motocross dirt bike, can take on a Mercedes car and prove two wheels are faster than four…

"Very exciting reading…

A can’t-put-it-down book"

YES! MAGAZINE

Action and adventure fiction

By Michael Maguire

Shot Silk

Slaughter Horse

Scratchproof

Scorcher

Swiftly

Swiftly 2

Mylor: The Most Powerful Horse in the World

Mylor: The Kidnap

Chapter One

Carl Shay narrowed his eyes as he studied the combination lock caught in the light from the torch in Kurt van Reyk’s gloved hand. He smiled, extending long, bony fingers to spin the safe’s metal dial gently, the way a pianist runs his hands lovingly across a keyboard before a concert.

‘Can you open it?’ A voice echoed in the darkness.

‘Shut up, Getz,’ Van Reyk grated. ‘Carl can open anything. Just you make sure we’re not disturbed.’

Getz swallowed. He was beginning to sweat. He took a firmer grip on the Browning automatic pistol clenched in his fist and mentally checked and double checked that all the security devices had been put out of action. He’d knocked out the closed-circuit TV cameras, used an electronic jammer to cancel the photo-electric cells, and expertly disconnected the alarm system. Yes, he told himself, they were okay. He’d done his job thoroughly and everything was going according to plan. Van Reyk had obtained detailed drawings of the Connaught Gallery’s security system and therefore nothing had been left to chance—except perhaps the safe. It was a new model. Explosive proof and supposedly thief proof. He’d never seen one like it before and this caused an uneasy feeling to tug at his brain.

Kurt van Reyk looked confident. The small piggy eyes sunk deep in the pouches of his fat, fleshy face watched unblinkingly as Carl Shay adjusted his ear-phones and clamped a magnetic listening device to the door of the safe. The dial rotated as Shay’s expert hearing and touch sought the combination. One by one the numbers clicked and fell into place until finally the tumbler dropped, springing the lock. Slowly, very slowly, the door swung outward on its hinges.

‘Excellent.’ Van Reyk stepped forward, brushing Shay to one side. The beam from his torch probed the inside of the safe until it connected with a blinding spectrum of colour. There, coiled on a padded velvet shelf was the gold bracelet in the shape of a snake. Diamonds ran the length of its body to its tail, and its head was a rainbow of precious gems. ‘The Selangor Serpent,’ he breathed, his greasy nostrils flaring as though he was smelling the stones and settings. ‘It’s priceless. It once belonged to the Sultan of Selangor and now it belongs to me.’

‘Us,’ Getz corrected him, relaxing slightly.

‘All right, us. You’ll get your share.’

‘A third each,’ Shay said. ‘That was the deal.’

‘Yes, yes…’ His gloved hand hovered over the serpent. ‘Stop thinking about—’ He never finished the sentence. Suddenly the gallery was alive with sound.

A pressure-sensitive micro-switch hidden beneath the padded velvet shelf had been activated the moment the bracelet had been moved. The safe vibrated as the emergency siren was triggered. The shrieking din crashed deafeningly around their ears.

‘You stupid… !’ Van Reyk whirled on Getz.

‘Don’t blame me,’ he retaliated. ‘I knocked out every external alarm. It… it’s your own damn fault…’

Shay’s narrow, straight lips were pulled back over small, white teeth. ‘Arguing amongst ourselves won’t stop us from being caught,’ he cut in, trying desperately to think. His face was thin, topped with a high, gleaming forehead, and fringed with grey hair. ‘How long have we got before the security guards arrive?’

‘Two minutes, maybe less,’ Van Reyk said.

‘We’ll never make it to the car.’

‘Speak for yourself, Shay,’ Getz snapped, slipping the automatic pistol’s safety catch. ‘I don’t aim to get caught.’

‘You’re crazy. We’ll get twenty years if we’re found in possession of that bracelet. And if you use a gun and kill someone, we’ll get life.’

Kurt van Reyk had other plans. The beam from his torch threw bright ripples of light over the various articles on display at the gallery. Paintings in heavy gold frames, sculptures on marble stands, ornaments in glass cabinets were studied briefly before the beam came to rest on a small, rather meaningless trophy by the door.

‘What’s that?’ Getz raised an eyebrow.

‘Our own personal safety-deposit box.’

‘Our own… ? What the hell are you talking about?’

Van Reyk wetted his lips and moved swiftly to the door. He was a big man, but like most big men he was light on his feet. He gripped the bronze section of the trophy in one hand and gently tapped the torch against the marble base. He smiled at the hollowly echoing sound.

‘Looks like some sort of fish,’ Getz said. ‘A bronze fish leaping through a hoop.’

‘It’s a dolphin,’ Van Reyk explained. ‘And a dolphin is a symbol of intelligence and athletic skill.’

‘So?’ Getz’s jaw muscles hardened. ‘Look, we’re wasting time.’

Shay’s torch lit up the brass inscription plate. ‘Kool Kidz Award. Won by—’ He paused, frowned. ‘It’s blank. It ain’t been won by nobody.’

‘That’s because this is the first year of the contest,’ Van Reyk rasped, unscrewing the base. ‘Don’t you read the papers? The trophy’s been loaned to this gallery so that it can be viewed by the public. In a couple of days’ time it will be sent to the contest headquarters on the Isle of Wight.’

‘Isle of Wight? Ain’t that where your boat’s moored?’

‘Exactly, Mr Shay, exactly.’

‘Very clever.’ The expression on Carl Shay’s face gave a new brightness to the black sockets under his forehead. ‘This way we don’t risk getting caught with the bracelet on us. We simply take our time and then nick the trophy from a bunch of dumb kids.’

‘We won’t have any time to take unless we get out of here,’ Getz warned, pressing an ear to the door, the paleness of his face taking on a bloodless look as he heard the cries of the guards and the sound of fast approaching footsteps. ‘For pity’s sake hurry up, Kurt! We’re gonna be caught like rats in a trap!’

Even in the face of danger Van Reyk couldn’t resist a last greedy look at the bracelet. He’d fitted a watch-maker’s eyepiece into his right eye and was almost dribbling at the brilliance, colour and quality of the Selangor Serpent’s stones.

‘Stunning! Magnificent!’ he breathed, wrapping the bracelet in a pocket handkerchief and slipping it neatly into the trophy’s base. He screwed the bronze dolphin back into place and positioned the award on its stand. ‘Stay safe my priceless little beauty. Safe and secure in the hands of the Kool Kidz until we can collect you.’

The guards were moving in fast. Getz listened to the scrabble of feet, trying to identify the number. A maximum of three men, he reasoned, his finger aching against the trigger of the Browning.

‘Take it easy, Brett!’ A youngish voice rang out. ‘They might be armed!’

You bet we’re armed, Getz thought, his eyes glinting coldly.

‘This lock’s been blown open with explosive,’ another voice said. ‘Turn on the emergency power. The gallery’s blacker than a coal mine.’

Getz had no intention of letting anyone switch on the lights. Without hesitation he threw himself at the door, his automatic pistol spitting flame in all directions. The guard reaching for the emergency power was stopped a few inches short of the lever. He clutched his chest, staggered, and then fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

The two remaining guards looked stunned, their faces frozen in horror as they stared at the unmoving body of their workmate. One did manage to aim a loosely clenched fist in Getz’s direction, but Getz ducked and Carl Shay, who had grabbed a marble display item, lifted it over his head, and brought it down heavily over the guard’s shoulders.

Van Reyk was smiling, but only until guard number three unhooked a nightstick from his belt and chopped it with vicious accuracy against the big man’s neck. Van Reyk’s face sagged, his extra flesh hanging as loose as a beagle’s. Anyone else would have been brought to their knees, but the Dutchman’s thick layer of fat soaked up most of the shock and he just swayed slightly as he recovered his senses.

‘G-get him!’ Van Reyk choked out the words, stabbing a podgy finger towards the guard.

Getz’s pistol had jammed, so he stuffed it in his pocket and went in with his fists. He was a hard man, a trained killer, completely evil when necessary.

The guard swung with the nightstick, but Getz grabbed it, the knuckles of his right hand crashing solidly against the younger man’s jaw. The blow was delivered almost without effort, but the guard rocked backwards as though he had been struck with a hammer. He was out cold before he hit the floor.

The alarm siren screamed on; a harsh ear-splitting noise which seemed to bounce off the gallery’s walls.

‘Head for the car!’ Van Reyk ordered through clenched teeth. ‘It’ll only be minutes before the police arrive.’

They moved silently along the corridor to the gallery’s rear exit. The heavy metal door, already split and twisted by explosives, hung limply on broken hinges. Getz put his weight behind it and within seconds they were outside, three dark shadows, cloaked in the blackness of the night.

It was raining steadily, heavily, a driving rain out of the west. Van Reyk pulled the collar of his overcoat higher around his ears and pointed his torch towards a white Mercedes car that was parked undercover in an alleyway. He gave two flashes on the torch, breathing a sigh of relief as he heard the Mercedes’ engine kick into life. The car moved swiftly towards them, the heavy rain glistening through its wavering headlamps.

Van Reyk snapped open the rear door and squeezed his bulky body inside. Shay followed, while Getz filled the passenger seat beside the driver.

‘Hit the accelerator, Miller,’ Van Reyk instructed, wiping the drizzle from his eyes. ‘Any moment now this place will be swarming with cops.’

‘Something go wrong, boss?’ Miller hit the car’s automatic transmission and the Mercedes leapt forward.

‘Getz shot a guard,’ Van Reyk said.

Miller swallowed. ‘That means there will soon be road-blocks all around London. You’d better ditch the serpent bracelet. If we’re stopped—’

‘Quit worrying,’ Getz broke in. He chewed nervously on a matchstick, his eyes squinting through the windshield. ‘We’re clean.’

‘You mean you didn’t get the Selangor Serpent?’

‘Yes and no.’

‘Eh?’

‘Yes, we got it—no we’re not carrying it. Kurt thought it wiser to stash it somewhere safe.’

The scar above Miller’s left eyebrow crinkled as he grinned. ‘Nice thinking, Mr Van Reyk. Will the collection be easy?’

‘As easy as taking candy from babies,’ Van Reyk replied.

A police car loomed ahead of them. It was travelling in the opposite direction, its blue roof lights flicking at the dark air like a whip as it headed for the gallery.

Shay laughed. ‘Good hunting, goons,’ he mocked. ‘Don’t be surprised if a serpent’s turned into a dolphin.’

Miller frowned, eyeing Van Reyk via the rear-view mirror.

‘Carl’s having a little joke,’ the big Dutchman explained. ‘Don’t let it worry you, Miller. We’ll all be taking a brief holiday. I want you to drive us to Southampton ready to catch the early morning Isle of Wight ferry.’

‘Holiday? Isle of Wight? Sorry, boss, I don’t follow you.’

‘We’ll