CHAPTER 1: THE WOOLLY MAMMOTH THIEF
In the seven-decade-long existence of the Nottingham Natural History Museum,no break-in had ever occurred until five a.m. on one fateful Saturday. Thetrespasser’s name was Maxwell Oscar Jacobs, a local retail worker. In his sparetime, he enjoyed playing Tetris, doing crossword puzzles, and—his preferredpastime—a spot of treasure hunting.
With a stone he’d found on the pavement, Max had smashed the museum’sback window and climbed into it by balancing on a rubbish bin. Shortlythereafter, he padded warily through the geology exhibit surrounded by modelsof Earth, not enjoying the experience in the slightest. Surveillance camerasmounted above on the wall scanned him, but he dearly hoped the authorities hadn’tbeen dispatched to arrest him. They shouldn’t be. After all, he hadn’t pouredchocolate milk on the power box outside for nothing.
Max was twenty-one years old, rather tall with stick insect limbs.Bright blond hair and a poorly cut fringe topped his head. He wore a greyCookie Monster hoodie, straight-legged jeans, Mickey Mouse socks and a cheap,halfbroken children’s watch with coloured numbers. He also wore blue trainers withthe shoelaces undone and carried a Tony the Tiger rucksack in which to storethe mammoth tusk he was after. To top it all, he had a scabbard that held abroadsword called Fleshrender, Max’s favourite possession.
Pacing along, he thought passingly that he should have dressed the partmore and put on a ski mask. His heart pounded as he passed by the dinosaur exhibit,unease assailing him. It was too late to go home at this point. He just had tofind the mammoth tusk before daylight.
He gathered himself, drew his sword and focused on not tripping whilehe navigated through the dark, winding corridors. Even the smallest of noises madehim jump—broadsword at the ready—as he crept through the empty halls.
With the lights off, the museum was practically a haunted house. While hetiptoed into the zoology section, glimmering rays of moonlight streamed inthrough the windows, falling gently over him. Shadowed model animals lined thewalls, felt rabbits and plastic spiders sitting on table displays. A frighteningbear stood with its paws raised and its sharp jaws wide open as if
ready to pounce on him at a moment’s notice. Max’s eyes widened, but withinseconds he discerned to his relief it was just taxidermy.
At last, the mammoth appeared behind a red security barrier not far away.With every muscle tensed, he gazed in awe at its gigantic figure. But his jawdropped as he realised, despite how carefully he had planned this mission, he’dforgotten one crucial part: how to extract the mammoth tusk out of theskeleton. It looked like it’d been screwed in tightly. Should’ve
brought a screwdriver. Oh, bother.
Pushing his shoulders back, he sheathed his weapon, strode right up to
the mammoth and peered at the display label. It read:
This woolly mammothskeleton was discovered in 1925 by a team of esteemed archaeologists in ruralDevon. It was the first almost entirely preserved specimen ever uncovered inEngland. It is a relic of priceless historical value. DO NOT TOUCH.
Deciding to disobey and wrest the tusk out, Max stepped over the maroonrope that encircled the mammoth and wrapped his hands around it. Like Arthurpulling the sword from the stone, there was nothing else to do but pull really,really hard.
After counting down from three, he tugged the mammoth tusk towards himwith all his might. It took a few tries, but finally the tusk separated from thewoolly mammoth skeleton with a nasty crack, and he fell on his backside.
Yet before he could rejoice, he heard the sound of a creak.
A door opened across the room.
“PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK! LAY DOWN ON THE GROUND!”
Max turned around and scrambled to his feet, mouth wide open. Police withintimidating weapons emerged out of nowhere, swarming him. He gaped at theapproaching horde before looking back down at the tusk. This couldn’t behappening.
The thought crossed his mind to run. But what was the point? There weretoo many police. He was toast!
He dropped the mammoth tusk on the floor and unsheathed his sword.
“Listen, this is all a b-big misunderstanding,” he stuttered.
“NO MISUNDERSTANDING!” a second officer yelled, a woman in a navy tunicwith a bulletproof vest. She inched over to him. “HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK NOW!”
Max stared at the police, aghast. They think I’m a criminal. How ridiculous.I’m just an innocent treasure hunter!
“Let me e-explain. It’s v-very, very important for you to let meeexplain,” Max stammered.
He pointed his sword at them threateningly, before spotting a paunchy manwho held what looked like a laser pointer and was aiming it at him.
Max swung the sword around as a warning. “Please. If you’d just give mea second to clear this up, I’m sure that—arghhh!”
His words cut out with a bloodcurdling scream. Electricity surged throughhis body. The red dot he’d seen on his chest hadn’t been from a laser pointerat all, but a taser. Limbs spasming, Max fell onto the floor and crumpled intoa ball as the police closed in on him.
