The Sword Maker's Seal Read online

  A voice came from behind Ezra, making him jump and almost tip his chair over.

  “Enjoying the view?”

  He turned to see Kenji sipping at a cup of coffee and staring through the glass to the museum steps. Kenji really needed to stop sneaking up on him, Ezra thought.

  “I decided to come by when I saw the news broadcast,” Ezra said, then asked with apprehension, “What happened in there?”

  “Someone stole the Masamune from its case. Yesterday morning a fake was found in its place. No one noticed until Tanya came in for work yesterday. She realized something was wrong and found Mr. Roy. They called the authorities and, well, I’m sure you know the rest.”

  “Why didn’t the museum tell the press what was stolen?”

  “The sword was going to be declared a national treasure at the end of its tour. You see, when it was first put on display, everyone had accepted that it was an ancient and formidable blade either made by Masamune himself or more likely one of his disciples. Two days ago, Emperor Akihito received word from Japanese scholars that the sword was in fact made by Masamune himself, making it the most important find in centuries.”

  Ezra thought for a few moments, then asked, “How did they figure it out? Surely they examined it extensively before putting it on display…”

  Kenji looked impressed with Ezra’s courage.

  “They examined the other swords known to be made by Masamune and found a mark beside his regular seal in common with all of them. Before, they had thought it was a defect that happened through years of wear and tear, but at a microscopic level there was no doubt that it was deliberate.”

  Ezra shifted in his seat as he prepared to ask a question that might get him in trouble.

  “And where were you two nights ago?”

  “You sure ask a lot of questions, kid.”

  “I’m curious, that’s all.”

  “I was at my hotel if you must know. All night.”

  Ezra could tell the conversation had ended so he said goodbye and decided to see if he could get in to see Mr. Roy. He crossed the street and made for the center entrance to the museum but was stopped by one of the men in dark suits.

  “Hold it, this is a crime scene,” the stolid man to Ezra’s right said.

  “I’m a friend of Mr. Roy. I just wanted to talk to him and see if everything is okay,” Ezra pleaded.

  “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow when the building is open.”

  “Ah, come on! I’m fourteen. Am I really a threat?”

  “Beat it, kid!”

  Ezra looked up at the rigid man in disgust and walked away defeated. He took out his small notepad and reviewed what he had learned. (He made a habit of writing down everything he could about an investigation in a miniature black book).

  Kenji had said that he wasn’t anywhere near the museum two nights ago, but no one could verify his story. Ezra also knew that Tanya had a grudge against Kenji and wanted to be the head of the new exhibit. And wasn’t there a millionaire from England interested in the exhibit? Suddenly the multiple layers of the case started to knot together like tangled cords and Ezra’s head felt like it was going to explode.

  He hung around the side of the museum for a few minutes thinking of whether to go home or try to find a way in to talk to the curator. If he were caught he’d be in big trouble not only with his parents but also with the law. He went with his better judgment for once and decided it was time to take the MAX home, vowing to come back the next day and get some answers.

  The trademark clouds of Portland gathered in nondescript gray masses above him as the light rail sped toward home. Disappointment knotted in his stomach. If not for running into Kenji it would have been a worthless trip to downtown.

  Ezra made it home only a few minutes before dinnertime. Mrs. Thorne was waiting with her arms crossed, scolding him half-heartedly. Ezra was sure she was getting tired of disciplining him after admonishing her students all day in class. Usually this was great for Ezra because he could get away with just about anything with little consequence. However, on this occasion Mrs. Thorne gave him the silent treatment, which she believed was much worse than yelling at him. Ezra tended to agree completely.

  Mr. Thorne positioned his chair at dinner so his eyes could remain glued to the TV. He was watching Jeopardy and answering each question out loud and making sure to answer in the form of a question. With Mr. Thorne distracted, dinner conversation remained at a minimum.

  “How was the library?” Mrs. Thorne asked calmly.

  “It was fine. I found a book about Japan,” Ezra lied.

  Mrs. Thorne had not yet seen his copy of Feudal Japan and the Way of the Samurai so he pulled it out to use as his alibi. She seemed convinced and dropped the subject. Mrs. Thorne had made Ezra’s favorite meal, Chicken Stir Fry, which made Ezra feel bad for having lied to his mother. She can’t know I’m investigating another case, he thought; she almost died when she found out about my case last year.

  When Ezra was finished eating he retreated to his room and talked to his dog Wilhelm. Sometimes when he was working on a case and needed someone to confide in, Wilhelm was the best listener. Every once in a while Wilhelm would let out a small bark as if in response to Ezra’s questions. Ezra had a hard time thinking through the clues of a case without this kind of interaction.

  Ezra sat down on the edge of his bed and took the library book out of his bag. He thumbed through the aging pages and stopped suddenly on one chapter. It was entitled: Seals of the Great Sword Smiths. A different author, according to his or her expertise, penned each chapter of the book. The author of this chapter was the original sword expert of the Ancient Artifacts Museum.

  Tanya Brand.

  If Tanya were an expert of Japanese seals, wouldn’t she have known from the get-go that the sword was real? If so, Ezra had a few questions for her.

  ♦

  The next day in school all Ezra could think about was interviewing his next suspect. Madison and Mason must have noticed because when they joined him at the lunch table they sat on either side of him. This was usually a sign that they were trying to corner him into doing them a favor, or confronting him about something.

  “You’ve been kind of anti-social lately,” Mason stated.

  “We’re beginning to think you’re just going to be a hermit and stay in your house all year,” Madison said trying to force out some tears but ultimately not succeeding.

  Ezra responded, “I’ve just been busy with some stuff, but don’t worry about it. Okay guys?”

  “Ahem, I’m not a guy Ezra!”

  “Sorry Madison.”

  Mason put an arm around Ezra and said smoothly, “Look, Ez, you don’t have to keep it from us. We know you’re working a case.”

  Ezra turned quickly to Mason who had a broad smile forming across his summer-tanned face.

  “How did you know?”

  “Come on, you do this every time! You don’t call us or hang out, and you look like you’re totally out of it in school.”

  “I’m not out of it,” Ezra murmured almost to himself.

  “You are,” Madison said. “Now let us help on the case.”

  Mason laughed and said, “Or we’ll just follow you anyway.”

  Ezra reluctantly agreed and shared with them what he had learned so far and his plans to go back to the museum after school.

  “Huh. I’ve never heard of Masamune, but it sounds like we’ve got ourselves a case,” Mason said, smiled, and almost immediately turned back to his cell phone.

  Madison chimed in, “I think the first thing we do is find Tanya and get some answers.”

  As Madison said this she pounded her fist on the table, making a loud thud that echoed through the cafeteria. Their classmates turned and glared at her with curious glances.

  “Sorry,” she said to the room in general, slightly embarrassed, then turned back to Ezra and said, “You know how I get excited about these things.”

  “Remind me to never get on h
er bad side,” Ezra whispered to Mason.

  “It’s no use, Ezra. Sooner or later you’ll say the wrong thing and then POW!”

  Mason flipped his light brown hair out of his eyes with his free hand and carefully glanced over to his sister. She was busy staring down Carson for one reason or another. When it came to Carson, Madison was almost as bitter as Ezra.

  To Ezra’s surprise, the bell rang and they were forced to throw their half-eaten lunches away. Ezra had spent so much time explaining the case he didn’t have a chance to eat as much as he would have liked. It didn’t help that his stomach had grown considerably over the summer, which made eating until he was full a laughable concept.

  All through English class his stomach was growling, which was occasionally loud enough to draw looks from around the class. Their teacher was a tall, aging woman called Mrs. Goodwin. She was by far the nicest of Ezra’s teachers but she required a lot of her students, which made thinking about the case an exceedingly difficult task. He looked to Madison and Mason who were writing notes to each other in the margins of their notebooks; no doubt about the case.

  Somehow the twins never got in trouble. While Ezra was usually able to avoid trouble at home, at school was a completely different story. The gym teacher, Mr. Slade, already didn’t like him because he wasn’t a typical jock type. Sure, Ezra was athletic enough, but he would rather read and solve mysteries than excel in sports. Mr. Slade must have thought he was a waste of potential and chose to remind Ezra every chance he could. Ezra did like some parts of gym class, though. He liked to run and the games they played that required some amount of thinking, but when dodge ball day arrived he was the only one in the class not excited.

  The remainder of Ezra’s classes dragged on slowly until three-thirty finally arrived. None too soon as far as Ezra was concerned. As Ezra and the twins walked out of Truman High School, Madison called her parents on her cell phone to tell them they had to work on a project at the library with Mason. While Ezra hadn’t yet convinced his parents to buy him a cell phone, he was sure they would cave after a few more confrontations.

  The walk to the MAX station seemed much faster to Ezra with two people to talk to along the way. The September air was growing colder with each passing day and the sky threatened of rain, as it is prone to do during a Portland autumn. While not keen at first, Ezra was soon glad to have the twins’ company on the case. An extra set of eyes could never hurt an investigation and Ezra knew he could trust the twins in times both good and bad.

  6

  The train came to a halt a few blocks from the museum and a feminine robotic voice announced the name of the station first in English, then in Spanish. The three walked the rest of the way slowly, discussing strategy.

  “Maybe Madison and I should talk to Tanya,” Mason said. “She knows who you are and might get spooked if you start asking questions.”

  “Okay. I’ll go find Curator Roy and see what he’ll tell me about the heist,” Ezra said.

  “What’s this Tanya woman like anyway?” Madison asked.

  “Last I heard she was mad that the guy I told you about, Kenji, got the job she wanted. I’d watch my back around her. I heard she has a temper.”

  “Great…” Mason said in more of a sigh than actual words.

  “Don’t worry Masey-Poo, I’ll protect you.”

  Mason groaned. Nothing was worse than Madison talking to him in baby talk.

  “I was born first in case you forgot. So respect your older brother!”

  “I guess Mom saved the best for last.”

  They playfully shoved each other around until Ezra broke it up. Ahead was the entrance to the museum but the two men in suits were gone. However, a feeling in Ezra’s gut told him there were still people watching them.

  Ezra took the lead and ascended the stone steps, flashing his membership badge to the security guard on the way. He had forgotten that the twins would have to pay to get in. Figuring they would be back and forth for as long as the case lasted, the twins each bought a month long pass with their remaining allowances.

  The museum was surprisingly empty. It seemed the only people there were those talking in hushed whispers about the heist; few, it seemed, had actually come to see the artifacts. Ezra, however, couldn’t complain since he and the twins were there to see Tanya and the curator and rather than the artifacts.

  They came to a fork. To the right was the Japanese Sword Exhibit, to the left the administrative offices. Madison and Mason split off to the right assuring Ezra they would get the job done. After watching the twins disappear past the colorful front displays of the exhibit, Ezra split off to the left and stopped at the entrance to the offices.

  Ezra had been in the curator’s office before, but that was due to a misunderstanding. Ezra leaned too close to a display case to get a closer look at a mummy’s sarcophagus when he slipped on the bar he was standing on. His head crashed into the glass causing the alarm to blare. The security guards brought him to the curator, who chewed him out for almost an hour before calling his parents to come and pick him up. Even after Ezra had explained it was an accident he was banned from the museum for a month. Mr. Roy had never trusted him again after that incident.

  He stepped through the outside door to the offices and greeted the receptionist, Pamela. Ezra had an interesting relationship with Pamela. They met when Ezra first got in trouble at the museum. While Ezra was waiting for his parents to pick him up, the two of them talked and became friends. Pamela had kids just a few years younger than Ezra and often brought candy to work, just in case Ezra showed up. However, when in the office she put on a front so the other office workers wouldn’t know she liked Ezra “trouble” Thorne.

  “Hi Pam, how are the kids?”

  Pamela looked up from her desk and groaned.

  “Oh, Ezra, what can we do for you today? Come to break more equipment?” Pamela said sarcastically, giving him a wink.

  “That was one time! Can’t a guy live anything down?”

  “If I remember correctly, just a few months ago you also took Mr. Roy’s lunch from the office fridge.”

  “Oh yeah…but he doesn’t know about that. You didn’t tell him did you?”

  “No,” she said then giggled. “So what brings you here today?”

  “I need to talk to Mr. Roy.”

  “What for?”

  Ezra didn’t answer. Instead he rolled back and forth on his feet and gave Pamela a puppy-dog look.

  “I know you’re not trying to get involved in the theft business going on around here…are you?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it would you?”

  Pamela sat back in her comfy office chair and studied Ezra’s face for a moment. She fiddled with a book on her desk with an extremely muscular man and a damsel in distress plastered on the front. The cover read, “Dark Prince.” Pamela caught herself daydreaming and returned her gaze to Ezra, then spoke in a hushed voice so only he could hear.

  “I guess this isn’t anything I haven’t already told the police. When I got to work the morning after the heist I walked past Tanya’s office and saw the door was open, the light was on, but no one was inside. I know I shouldn’t have gone in, but you know me, I just had a feeling.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Her office was pretty cluttered but I saw a bottle of hairspray on her desk. The only thing is, she always wears her hair pulled back into a tight bun and never uses hairspray.”

  “Huh, that’s interesting.”

  Ezra smiled made a note on his notepad. He was lucky that he could always count on Pam to know the good gossip. He thanked her and asked once again to see the curator. Pamela phoned his office and said he had a guest there to see him. Before he could ask who it was Ezra walked through his door and sat down in an old red armchair with golden accents.

  Mr. Roy looked up and slammed the phone down on its hook.

  He asked in his fake British accent, “Ezra Thorne. What do you think you’re you
doing here? Did you break something again?” His expression turned from anger to anxiety.

  “Really? Come on, I’ve been good lately!”

  “Well then, what do you want?” he asked with a note of suspicion in his voice.

  “I have a few questions, that’s all,” Ezra said innocently.

  “It better be about an artifact,” Mr. Roy said then stood up and faced his window, fiddling with a trinket in his hand.

  Ezra said, “That would make sense wouldn’t it? This being an artifacts museum and all…I was wondering if you had any leads on the theft of the Masamune.”

  “I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to,” Mr. Roy said, his back still turned to Ezra.

  “How about I tell you what you should be doing. I have reason to believe Tanya knows something about the theft.”

  “Well, she is the one who reported it,” Mr. Roy said trivially.

  “That doesn’t mean she didn’t steal it. She’s a sword expert, hated Kenji, and she knew the sword was real from the beginning!”

  Ezra fought the urge to rise to his feet, remaining steamed in his ornate chair, his fingers tapping away furiously on the leather.

  “Ezra. I don’t know where you get your information, but I think you’re getting the wrong impression. Tanya came to my office the day before the heist to borrow my keys because she misplaced hers. Later that day her set of keys was right on top of her desk. Whoever stole the sword must have made a copy of her keys. And that’s good enough for me.”

  “That’s convenient…”

  “I think you’ve had enough fun playing detective. Shouldn’t you be doing homework or something?”

  “One more question, please?”

  “One more,” Mr. Roy said sitting down in his desk chair in one lazy plop. But if you aren’t gone after that I’m calling security. This isn’t a daycare.”