Above the marble was a long pole, and at the top of it was a horrible image, carved in gold and laced with precious stones. A pair of fiery eyes stared down at Miles menacingly.
Back on the ‘Ocean of Smyle’s’, still moored by London Bridge, its owner’s young protégé was pacing the deck, absorbed in conversation on his state-of-the-art mobile telephone.
“…so what if the bottom drops out of the market and everyone loses their pensions, just buy up every share NOW, then I want you to sack everybody, knock down the buildings and build a huge ice-rink ……I don’t care how hot it is in the Sudan! Just do it! Pronto! By this time tomorrow, I want a full progress report!”
As he drew level with the door to the engine room, a hand suddenly shot out, grabbed him by the scruff of his designer jacket. It was Uncle Jeff, alias Bevis, who was now pulling the boy after him down metal stairs and behind the main generator.
“Hey!” protested Miles, “you’re ruining my suit! This is expensive stuff, you know, none of your off-the-peg rubbish!”
“I need to talk to you,” his uncle said. “This might be the only chance I’ll get before Smyle returns from his self-glorifications.”
“Well, you certainly pick your moments!” cried Miles angrily. “I was just in the middle of a crucial deal. Besides, you’ve got a cheek coming here after the way you kept us from seeing Mum and Dad!”
“Surely you don’t think Mr. Smyle will help you?” Jeff gazed down at Miles, astonished at the boy’s naivety. “Don’t you know he’s the one who put them in prison?”
Miles merely snorted contemptuously. “So you say. But I know Mr. Smyle a lot better than you do, and he’s been really nice to me and Alice.”
“Nice!?” gasped Jeff. “Well, listen to me. Your NICE Mr. Smyle is the most devious, corrupt and downright nasty human being you could ever hope not to meet and it’s only a matter of time before he’s got the whole world in his pocket. Can’t you see? He’s buying it piece by piece and then he’ll own us as well.”
“So?” Miles dismissed his uncle’s accusations with a shrug of his perfectly tailored shoulders. “Just because he’s good at business doesn’t make him a bad person.”
“Oh no?” Jeff countered. “And how about killing your little brother? Does that make him any better?”
“What?!” Genuinely shocked, Miles almost dropped his mobile.
“You think Joe just happened to fall in the sea? And Odi, who wouldn’t step off a bus without getting vertigo, do you think he just decided to jump in after him?”
Miles frowned and glared at Jeff from under his blond eyebrows. “What are you getting at?” he demanded coldly.
“I’m trying to get you to realise what your wonderful Mr. Smyle is capable of.” Uncle Jeff turned to look behind him, making sure they couldn’t be overheard before making an even more astonishing remark.
“I’m also trying to tell you that Joe’s alive!”
For the first time since his brother’s disappearance, Miles felt a lump forming in his throat, and it was a few moments before he could speak. Joe alive!? Could it be true?
“You wouldn’t lie about something like that,” Miles said eventually. “Would you?”
“He’s been seen, that’s what all the fuss was about this morning, that’s why Smyle was in such a foul temper. And now he’ll stop at nothing to find your brother again – AND your parents. Yes, they’ve escaped, Miles.”
This was all too much for Miles to take in. “Now I know you’re lying!”
“I swear it! I helped them escape myself. Miles, you’ve got to believe me. It’s vital you and Alice and Laurel get away while there’s still time. Before Smyle takes out his frustration on you!” But Miles stiffened and continued staring at Jeff stonily. “You’re his only card now.”
“Mr. Smyle wouldn’t hurt me. He’s been really kind and generous. Ask Alice, or Laurel. Mr. Smyle’s given us loads of stuff!”
“He abducted your parents!” Jeff insisted.
“In the first place, I don’t believe you. And in the second place, even if he did, then I don’t care, just like they didn’t care about me! They got themselves arrested, they didn’t do anything to stop it or to save us, because they just didn’t care! Everything that’s happened was all their fault, and now you’re picking on me just because I like Mr. Smyle when he’s been the only person who’s cared about us at all! And I won’t hear you saying bad things about him, ever, EVER – so there!”
“Look, Miles……..”
“He said you’d tell lies about him! I’m not listening to you anymore!” Miles made to go back up the steps, but Jeff pinned the boy’s arms together, preventing him from moving.
“I promise you, Miles, I wouldn’t lie to you! Of course, you feel some loyalty to Mr. Smyle, but only because you don’t know what he’s really like? Or who he really is!”
“Oh, like YOU, I suppose!” replied Miles tartly, wriggling to get away. “What’s your name again? Uncle Jeff….Bevis? At least I’d like to know who I’m kicking!” Without warning, Miles lashed out with a stylish leather foot and found an easy target in Jeff’s right kneecap. The pain shot up Jeff’s leg with such force, he let the boy go, clutching his knee and trying to stifle an agonised wail. He hardly had time to compose himself before Miles had reached the top of the metal stairs from where he gazed down on him contemptuously.
“And think yourself lucky I didn’t dob you in…..but I will if you’re not off this ship within the next half hour. Oh, and by the way, thank you for teaching me that little trick. It definitely came in useful.”
Jeff sucked in through his teeth, desperately trying not to yell. “At least he listened to something I told him,” he thought wryly.
“Just stay away from me in future!” Miles paused briefly at the top of the steps and gazed down haughtily before disappearing through the door. He felt enormously pleased with himself, so much so, he began to whistle as he sauntered along the deck, hands in pockets, lord-in-waiting of all he surveyed. Yet, later on, he started dwelling on his uncle’s warning and, try as he might, couldn’t quite dismiss an inkling of doubt. Maybe he’d look in on Alice. Over the past few weeks, he’d been far too busy to talk to his sister, preferring to accompany Mr. Smyle to board meetings and learning the cut and thrust of finance. His world now was devoted to statistics and percentages; his associates wheeler dealers of the highest order. There simply hadn’t been the time for family.
But on this occasion, he felt compelled to talk to her and knocked gently on the door of her cabin.
“Go away!” said Alice.
“Alice, it’s me, Miles!” he whispered. “Let me in!”
“No!” replied Alice. “I don’t want to see anyone ever again!”
“Please, Alice, it’s important!” begged Miles. But his voice was drowned by a sudden blast of funky music, played at full, ear-splitting volume.
Sighing, he made his way to the rear deck to give himself time to think. This part of the ship was normally deserted, so he was surprised to see Laurel there, leaning over the railing and gazing towards the far side of the river with a sad, far-away expression on her lovely face. It was rare for her to emerge from her cabin these days, but she’d taken the opportunity for some fresh air in Mr. Smyle’s absence.
The sight of Laurel looking so miserable caused Miles a pang of guilt. Mr. Smyle had been right about one thing, he hadn’t had time for anyone. Not Alice, nor Laurel nor Joe. Particularly Joe.
“Hi,” he said, shyly, hardly able to remember last time he’d spoken to Laurel. The young woman jumped slightly but realising it was Miles, relaxed. “Hello Miles!” she said brightly, “Come to watch the sunset?”
“No, can’t stop,” he replied. “I’ve got a difficult contract to negotiate.”
“That’s nice,” said Laurel and turned her attention back to the twinkling lights of the distant city.
“Laurel, can I ask you something, something personal?” Laurel looked up again, her eyes kind and gentle. “Of course,” she replied.
“Are you happy?” The question took her by surprise and it was a while before she could answer it.
“Well…..I suppose. To be honest, I haven’t really thought about it.”
“But you DO like Mr. Smyle, don’t you?” Miles persisted. “I mean, you’ve got to, after all he’s done?” But, again, Laurel didn’t answer him straightaway and her hesitation made Miles feel uneasy.
“Well,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not sure I entirely trust him.”
“Why not?” Miles demanded to know, infuriated by her reply. First Uncle Jeff, now Laurel!
“There’s gratitude for you!” he grumbled “Why, Mr. Smyle’s done everything for us! Clothes, nice food, money, parties, famous people! He’s given us everything we could possibly want…..!”
Laurel merely sighed. “You did ask,” she said, wearily.
But Miles was in no mood to be reasonable. “Some people just don’t appreciate when they’re well off!” he ranted. “It’s not as though you had anything of your own to start with. Living in a tree, for goodness’ sake! What sort of life was that!? Well, sorry if all this luxury offends you, but if you hate it so much, why don’t you go! Go on, just get up and leave right now! Nobody will miss you!”
“It’s not as easy as that….” Laurel explained.
“It IS easy! Just walk off the ship!”
“Oh Miles!” Laurel exclaimed, exasperated. “Haven’t you noticed? His eyes are everywhere! There’s no escape for any of us – especially not you!”
This remark hit Miles like his mother’s cold sponge first thing in the morning.
“What do you mean? I can go exactly where I like!”
Laurel continued to gaze at him challengingly. “Try it! You just try going anywhere on your own and see what happens.”
“I will!” replied Miles. “Just watch me!”
Defiantly, he marched out of the lounge and headed for the gangway. Yet, before he could take one step onto it, Soames appeared as if from nowhere. “Going somewhere, Master Miles?”
“Yes, Soames!” Miles answered shortly. “I thought I’d take a stroll along the river.”
“An excellent idea, Master Miles,” said the butler enthusiastically. “A pre-dinner constitutional would be most beneficial. I’ll arrange for someone to accompany you.”
“That won’t be necessary!” Miles snapped. “I’m quite capable of looking after myself, thank you!” With that, he tried to continue down the gangway, but was forcibly prevented by the butler. It seemed Soames was not quite as humble as he let on.
“How dare you!” cried Miles, angrily. “Let me go at once!”
“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible, Master Miles. However, if you’d care to wait one moment, I’m sure we can find a suitable companion.”
Even as he spoke, he clicked his fingers and two of Mr. Smyle’s ‘aides’ loomed over them. “Master Miles would like to go for a walk,” Soames explained.
“Actually,” said Miles, “Master Miles has changed his mind. What’s for dinner, Soames?”
“I’ve taken the liberty of organising some light refreshment in your cabin, Master Miles. Seeing as Mr. Smyle is attending his reception at Buckingham Palace today.”
Miles realised he needed all his wits to avoid raising suspicion. He’d have to pretend it was the last thing on earth he’d ever dream of doing. With a nonchalance he was very far from feeling, he shrugged and sauntered off towards his cabin. Between them, Uncle Jeff, Laurel and Soames had issued a challenge he couldn’t resist.
Even so, he wasn’t particularly disturbed. His parents were, if anything, even less inclined to let him go off by himself; it showed they cared about him. But, with a thin vein of doubt tingling inside him, he decided to investigate Mr. Smyle more closely.
Making sure no-one was looking, he crept into Mr. Smyle’s private sitting room where he entertained his most important guests.
Beyond the luxurious, wood-panelled lounge was Mr . Smyle’s private study, which when not in use was kept firmly locked. After making sure the coast was clear, he fumbled in his pocket and found a small penknife, given to him by Uncle Jeff, which he always carried. Uncle Jeff had shown him how to use it to unlock doors and Miles grinned, thinking how disapproving his mother would have been had she ever found out. Gingerly, he inserted the sharp end into the lock of Mr. Smyle’s study, then twisted it until the lock sprang open. It was astonishingly easy! “If nothing else,” Miles thought, “I’d make a brilliant burglar.”
Once his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, Miles was surprised how ornate the study was, perhaps the most impressive room on the ship, with walls of polished walnut, gorgeously embossed and trimmed with gold. In the middle stood an imposing table, also in walnut and shaped into a perfect horseshoe. At the head of the table, where Mr. Smyle would sit, was a panel of buttons discreetly hidden under the arm of his executive chair. Gingerly, Miles pressed one and a screen appeared at one end of the room, covering the entire wall. It was a map of the world, similar to the one he’d been shown by Mr. Smyle, only this one was marked by different coloured flags. Other buttons caused screens to appear, telephones, keyboards, all the things you would expect a tycoon to have at his disposal. Idly, Miles pressed one of the buttons and was astonished to hear a woman’s voice.
“Hello children,” it said. It was his mother! “Mum?” he whispered, scarcely able to breathe. “Mum, is that you?” But before he’d finished, the voice interrupted.
“I’m all right. How are you?”
“I’m fine Mum but…..”
“Yes, he’s here with me. How’s Mr. Smyle?”
This was very odd.
“Soon. Very soon.”
There was something unnatural about the way Mum spoke and she was answering questions he hadn’t asked. Her comments must be pre-recorded! Wracking his brains, Miles tried to think why on earth Mr. Smyle would have video-taped his mother, then remembered the phone call they’d shared before setting off on their voyage. It was all a set-up! A lie!
Determined to find out more, Miles pressed another button, a white one, and the floor opened to reveal six steps leading down into another room. Nervously, Miles looked around, terrified of being caught. Yet, as usual, curiosity got the better of him and he tiptoed down the steps.
“It’s like a church!” he gasped. Sure enough, the first thing to catch his eye was a large marble altar with huge candles on it, covered with a large purple cloth. On either side, chairs carved in ivory had been arranged in semi-circles, leaving an aisle up to the altar. “I didn’t think Mr. Smyle was religious,” Miles mused to himself. And then he glanced up.
The sight that greeted him curdled his blood. There, above the marble, was a long pole, and at the top of it, was a horrible image, carved in gold and laced with precious stones. A pair of fiery eyes stared down at Miles menacingly.
Miles backed away instinctively, somehow sensing evil at its most pure, and yet….and yet, there was something familiar about it. Yes, he’d seen it on Mr. Smyle’s cufflinks! Fixed to the spot, head spinning, legs turned to lead, all Miles could do was blink and tremble while another image swam around his brain, a symbol shown to him before this nightmare had begun.
“The dragon!” he whispered. “Watch out for the dragon!” Then he remembered the photograph Uncle Jeff had shown him before disappearing.
“No!” he gasped. Forcing his feet to move, he wobbled backwards away from the altar, away from the horrible image.
His mind was racing. “Got to get away!” he said. “But how? How!?”
Instinct took over and Miles sprang into action. Coming out from the lower room, he closed the door behind him and re-arranged everything just as it had been when he arrived. He then edged quietly out of the boardroom and onto the deck. His heart was pounding so fast, yet he had to appear as though everything was normal. Normal!
Instead of pelting off as he so badly wanted to, he put his hands in his pocket and tried unsuccessfully to whistle. His lips were too dry, so he settled for a half-hearted hum while he strolled nonchalantly to Alice’s cabin once again. To his relief, the music had stopped and all he could hear were his sister’s stifled sobs.
“Alice?” he called, gently knocking on the door. “I told you to go away!” She screamed.
This time, Miles ignored the command and entered the cabin anyway. Alice was sprawled across the bed, clutching the gold dress she’d worn for her party, eyes rimmed with stale mascara and hair in need of a brush. She’d been like this for weeks, even before Joe fell overboard, mooning over her lost love. Miles reached over and turned on her CD player, not because he cared much for her choice of music, but in case there were any listening devices nearby.
“Listen, Alice,” Miles urged, “We’ve got to get away from here, right now!”
The girl merely tutted and rolled to face the wall. “Oh, leave me alone,” she murmured.
“No, listen to me! Joe’s alive, yes, he’s alive, Alice! But we’ve got to get off this ship or we might not be!”
“Alive?” sighed Alice, “What’s ‘alive’? Life is meaningless – a deep abyss that leads to nothingness for people who are nobodies going nowhere. Alone.”
Miles groaned. She could be really depressing at times, could Alice. “Alice, did you hear what I just said! Joe didn’t drown, he’s alive and we have to get off this ship before Mr. Smyle gets back because he isn’t really Mr. Smyle at all.” He had to pause to take a deep breath. “He’s Elymas!”
At last, he seemed to make an impression. “What?!” said Alice, beginning to sit up.
“Let’s go and find Laurel,” her brother suggested. “We’ve got to come up with a plan.”
Half an hour later, the three of them were whispering together intently at the stern of the yacht where Miles felt there was less chance of being overheard. To avoid arousing suspicions, they pretended to play cards. No one had a clue how to escape from the ship, short of following Joe’s example by jumping over the side, a suggestion the girls were quick to reject. To make matters worse, Smyle’s aides were everywhere, watching for any sign of rebellion. Strange, thought Miles, how he’d never noticed them before, but then he’d been too wrapped up with his wheeler-dealing and his own importance.
How he regretted his behaviour now, especially towards Uncle Jeff, and he secretly prayed he’d see him again, if only to apologise. Actually, thinking of Jeff and the unforgiveable kick to the shin reminded Miles of other things the older man had taught him in the past, which got him wondering if……….
“I know!” he rasped, excitedly. “Alice, can we have your horrible gold-coloured dress?”
“Horrible?! I’ll have you know I designed it myself…..!” she spluttered indignantly. It was good to know she was back to her usual self. “Why do you want it, anyway?”
“Because it’s made of silk,” explained Miles, “And it’s got yards of material.”
“I’ve got silk dresses too!” Laurel said. “What’s the plan, Miles?”
“Tell you later,” he said. “Right now, I’m just going to arrange a little sightseeing tour.” And he skipped off to find Soames.