“Concrete, tarmac, flyovers, runways, carriageways, leisure complexes, skyscrapers 5 miles high. That’s the future, Miles….
The day will come when there won’t be a tree, or a blade of grass, or one nasty plant to spoil the view!”
Miles was feeling rather sick. He and Alice had been stuck in their cabins all afternoon and something very strange was going on. One minute, the Ocean of Smyle’s was cruising along sedately; then it accelerated to an incredible rate of knots before stopping altogether. Finally, the ship pitched upwards onto its prow, like a big dipper, flinging Miles against his cabin wall where he lay squashed for several moments until the ship lurched backwards again with a stupendous slap. No wonder his stomach was churning. He was also feeling rather thirsty. Despite having been told not to leave the cabin, he opened the door and peeped outside. “Hello?” he called. “Can I come out now?”
“Will someone answer me!” he commanded, but no one did. “Oh, I’m fed up of this!” he grumbled. “I’ll get my own pop!” And he stomped off towards the lounge area where Mr. Smyle kept a well-stocked bar.
“Just where do you think you’re going!?” It was Mr. Smyle in person, blocking the way and looking angrier than Miles had ever seen him. “I gave strict instructions for you to remain in your quarters. What do you think you’re doing!?”
“I was thir…..” Miles began to explain but Mr. Smyle grabbed him by the ear. “You’ve no right to be wandering around here without permission. How dare you disobey my orders!”
“Please Mr. Smyle, you’re hurting me!” yelped Miles.
Mr. Smyle squeezed his ear all the harder. “Hurt you!? Defy me again, my lad, and then you’ll know what pain is! I’m fed up with stupid boys who won’t do as they’re told!”
Almost sobbing with the pain, Miles started to beg. “Please, please let me go, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Very well,” said Mr. Smyle who, satisfied he’d got his point over, let go of Miles’ ear and breathed deeply to control his formidable temper. When he next spoke, it was with his usual even tone: “You must see, Miles, how very important it is that people do exactly as I say.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Smyle.” Miles whispered feebly. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“All right, we’ll say no more about it. The incident is forgotten. Over. Finished. Done.” With a benevolent beam, Mr. Smyle patted Miles on the head. “But, kindly remember – whatever I ask you to do is for your own good.” He was about to send Miles back to the cabin but changed his mind on seeing the obvious fear and bewilderment in Miles’ face.
“Actually, it’s time you and I had a serious chat about your future. Let’s go to the boardroom and thrash it out – I don’t mean literally, Miles,” he grinned. “I’m the most placid human on the planet! Come along, we’ll enjoy the fresh air on our way.”
As they strolled up onto the main deck, Mr. Smyle chatted companionably about the stock exchange and how well Miles was doing, as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place at all. Secretly, it amazed Miles, whose ear was still smarting, how anyone could act like the devil one minute and be as nice as pie the next. But then he supposed that’s how one had to be to succeed in business.
“Right!” said Mr. Smyle, breaking off from his rundown of the latest trade figures, “Where were we?”
“About my future?” prompted Miles.
“Ah yes! What I was thinking was…..” He paused and looked Miles square in the face. “How would you like to be the next Chairman of the Global Organisation Benevolence Foundation?”
Op“You mean after you’ve gone?”
Mr. Smyle sighed. “My dear, Miles, you really must learn to think more laterally. If by ‘gone’ you mean ending up in a coffin, then I can assure you I haven’t the slightest intention of going anywhere.”
“But everybody dies,” Miles reasoned. “Don’t they?” He glanced nervously at Mr. Smyle, no longer sure of anything where his host was concerned.
“My dear boy,” Mr. Smyle chuckled. “Anything is possible these days. We’re living in the age of ultimate discovery. Cloning, genetics, bio-technology…..science has put infinity within our very grasp.” He gazed down at Miles, pleased with the effect he was having. “Obviously, you’re an intelligent young man. Would you like to know what else I’m planning? Come on in, I want to show you something.”
Now deeply curious, Miles followed his host into the impressive boardroom, where Mr. Smyle entertained important guests. “Watch this!” said Mr. Smyle and pressed a button. Immediately, the entire back wall slid open to reveal another room, which reminded Miles of a military bunker. In the middle of this room was a large table, on which lay a model of the world, built perfectly to scale. The only difference between Mr. Smyle’s model and the real thing was the colour.
“Behold, Miles. My vision!”
“Shouldn’t the land be green?” asked Miles.
“Green!? Good heavens, No. Green is a dreary colour, earthy, natural, Yuk! What we have here, Miles, is the world of the future. Concrete, tarmac, flyovers, runways, carriageways, leisure complexes, skyscrapers 5 miles high. That’s the future, Miles.
‘The day will come when there won’t be a tree, or a blade of grass, or one nasty plant to spoil the view! The whole world will be one big amusement arcade, created by Alazon Smyle! That’s my vision, Miles! Fun, fun, fun from the cradle to the grave!”
Miles’ wasn’t so sure. “Won’t people mind not having countryside anymore?” he wondered.
Mr. Smyle scoffed at the very idea. “Mind?! My dear boy, they won’t even notice! It’ll all be so convenient, don’t you see? Shopping, travelling, home entertainment; every aspect of life efficiently controlled, organised and put under a dome, so we can even dictate the weather.”
“Yes, but what about people who DO mind!?” Miles persisted. “People like…..well, like Roots and Laurel?”
“Well, they’ll just have to be persuaded NOT to mind, won’t they?” said Mr. Smyle cheerily.
“And what about flowers and hedges and things? What about all the trees?!”
Mr. Smyle shrugged. “What abouttrees?” he asked, showing a particular lack of interest in the answer. “Really Miles, I’m sharing with you the most incredible vision ever conceived. Surely you could show a little more appreciation!”
But Miles was too busy staring at Mr. Smyle’s cuff-links. There was something vaguely familiar about the design. Strange how he’d never noticed them before.
“Well?” urged Mr. Smyle.
“Well, you can’t have a world without trees!” Miles argued, lamely. “They provide oxygen and shelter and homes for the birds….and they look nice!” Then he thought of something else. “And what about food?”
“Well of course there’ll be food, Miles!” Mr. Smyle laughed uproariously. “No one can live without food! I have designated certain areas for that very purpose – agricultural combines to feed the whole world; specially designed crops that never rot or get blighted by insects or disease. No one will ever go hungry again!”
“But…..but….no trees? At all?”
He was opened answered by a contemptuous snort.
“Now you sound like Roots! Miles, Miles, Miles. I can see you have a lot to learn about economy. You can’t have trees taking up all that space just because they look nice! If it’s nice you want, you need solid things – like gold and diamonds, things that last forever!” Then he paused, bending down to eyeball Miles again, so as to have the maximum effect. “Like ME!”
“Now you sound like Roots! Miles, Miles, Miles. I can see you have a lot to learn about economy. You can’t have trees taking up all that space just because they look nice! If it’s nice you want, you need solid things – like gold and diamonds, things that last forever!” Then he paused, bending down to eyeball Miles again, so as to have the maximum effect. “Like ME!”
Try as he might, Miles couldn’t help staring at the cuff-links. “But what if people refuse to accept it?” Miles stammered, “Suppose they start demonstrating and stuff?”
Mr. Smyle simply threw back his head and howled with laughter. “Demonstrating?! Oh, dear me no! Not on MY planet! Miles, those days are well and truly over!”
He was still chuckling when his intercom buzzed, followed by Soames’ silky voice: “Your guest has arrived, Sir.”
“Oh, what a bore!” Mr. Smyle exclaimed. “Still, I suppose I’d better see him. I’ll be free in another 5 minutes.”
Mr. Smyle’s attention returned to Miles. “Now listen to me, Miles, this is very important. Being a rich tycoon isn’t much fun, you know, because somewhere along the line, people get jealous, resentful. Well, you know what that’s like, surely, a bright, popular, clever boy like you?” Miles nodded. He didn’t really understand what Mr. Smyle was getting at, but after the ear business, he was doing his best not to annoy.
“Ahhh, dear me! Life’s such a struggle at times! All I’m trying to say, Miles, is that when people get jealous of someone, they tend to speak rather badly of them, even to the point of being slanderous. Fake news, Miles. There have been so many lies about me…..” He sighed deeply. “Thankfully, my shoulders are broad. The only reason I’m telling you this, Miles, is that you don’t allow anyone to steal your inheritance. Lots of nasty people will tell you anything about me – just as they do about you to me ml, oh yes! But of course I don’t believe them. Nor must you.”
The door slid noiselessly open and a large man stepped in, dressed head to toe in black.
“Ah, there you are, Bevis.” Mr. Smyle stood upright and waved Miles away. “That’s all for now, Miles. Make sure and think about what I’ve just said. There’s a great deal at stake – for both of us.”
Bevis! As he made for the door, Miles glanced briefly at the newcomer, who, making sure Mr. Smyle wasn’t watching, removed his dark glasses and winked. Miles gasped and was about to ask him what he was doing, but Uncle Jeff shook his head slightly, indicating for him to keep quiet. Puzzled, Miles took the hint and pretended not to know him.
“Off you go, Miles! Now, please!”
Mr. Smyle waited until the door was firmly closed behind the boy before emerging from the inner room, taking the leather chair on one side of his huge Art Deco desk and gesturing for Bevis to sit down on the other. “Well, it seems we have a situation on our hands! But I’m sure you’ll sort it out.”
“Just one thing standing in the way, Mr. Smyle,” replied Bevis.
“And what might that be?” Mr. Smyle asked without much interest.
“Money, Mr. Smyle. You haven’t paid me yet for my last assignment.”
“That’s because you fell down on the job,” said Smyle. “The delivery you promised had to be acquired by other means. However, as a fair-minded man, I’m prepared to give you the chance to redeem yourself.”
“Looking for someone, Master Miles?” Outside, Miles leapt away from the keyhole of the boardroom door and blushed furiously.
“I was just….scratching my ear!” he blurted out.
Soames gazed at him and replied with an equal lack of expression. “Quite so, Master Miles. Can I get you anything?” Soames’ oily tones only served to irritate Miles even more.
“No!” the boy snapped.
“Then, might I suggest you enjoy the fresh air, Master Miles? On deck?”
Disconcerted at being caught eavesdropping, Miles mooched towards the deck, wondering how the butler always managed to sneak up on him out of nowhere. He almost called Soames back again, so he could ask for something really difficult just for spite, like a triple truffle milkshake with rare snake poison in it. Then he’d make the creepy guy butler drink it all himself and drop dead on the spot!
But then, there was no point getting peevish with the hired help when really it was Uncle Jeff he was angry with. Where had he been all this time? Didn’t he care about him anymore? And why all the secrecy? If he worked for Mr. Smyle, why hadn’t he taken them to him in the first place instead of hiding them in that stupid cave for weeks on end? Just who didhe work for, and why didn’t he want Mr. Smyle to know he was his uncle? Just whose side was he ON? These questions kept spinning round Miles’ head until he felt dizzy, yet he was no nearer finding the answers. And the more he thought, the angrier he got, until he made up his mind to have nothing further to do with his so-called-uncle-cum-secret-agent Jeff.
Chapter 28
“Well, buckle my propeller!” Captain Catastrophe whistled through his teeth. “That’s the biggest ship I’ve seen since the Titanic!”
“Good grief!” Captain Catastrophe complained. “I can’t see a thing in this fog.”
After several weeks on the Mersey May, Odi, Joe and Elysha had got used to roughing it. At the sound of the skipper’s voice, they emerged bleary-eyed from under a canvas where they’d collapsed exhausted after the recent storm. “Ah, so you’ve woken up at last!” cried their host, “You’ve been asleep for hours!”
“Must have been all the excitement,” said Joe. “Where are we now?”
“Good question!” In reply, the Captain spun the globe which he kept next to his clockwork radio and began to calculate. “Let me see…..Given the latitude, along with the longitude, and the position as at 08.00 hours Greenwich Meantime……divide by, let’s see, 25 knots per hour, subtract the temperature……and there we have it!”
“Which is…where exactly?” Odi enquired. Captain Bob scratched his beard and thought long and hard.
“I don’t know,” came the reply. “Navigation was never my strong point but, at a rough estimate, I’d say we were somewhere North of the Equator.”
“So, how can we be sure?” persisted Odi, feeling ever more anxious.
“Well,” said the Captain “the fact is, we can’t. But, not to worry. As soon as the fog lifts, we’ll have a better idea, I’m sure.” he frowned slightly with confusion “Yes, I’m sure we will. In the meantime, I vote we have our breakfast. Porridge anyone?”
As they ate the porridge, which Captain Catastrophe made exceptionally well, Odi couldn’t help noticing how smoothly the boat was moving. So smoothly, in fact, it hardly seemed to be moving at all. Sure enough, once the fog cleared, they went up on deck to find the Mersey May had simply run out of sea and was now perched on top of a rock in the middle of a muddy strand. “Shiver me timbers, if we haven’t run aground!” cried Captain Catastrophe. “This is the seventh time this year!”
“Hey look!” Elysha pointed to a stretch of coastline in the distance. “Lights!”
The Captain peered through his telescope. “That looks familiar,” he said. “Well, shudder me rudder, if we’re not on the Thames!”
Joe wasn’t much good at geography, but he had heard of Britain’s main waterway. “You mean we’re in London!?” he gasped.
“Aye, we are that, me hearty!” Catastrophe replied and pointed to the West. “If you follow my finger, you can just make out the Houses of Parliament.”
“Wow!” said Elysha. “I’ve never been to London before.”
“I think my Dad has,” Joe remembered, “but he came by train.” Suddenly, a vein of sadness trickled through his brain. “I thought we were going to Australia.”
Captain Catastrophe hardly knew what to say. Instead, he patted Joe’s shoulder by way of comfort. “I’m sorry, lad, my seafaring skills leave something to be desired,” and he harrumphed awkwardly. “But there again, it’s likely Mr. Smyle was fibbing about Australia anyway.”
Joe nodded sadly in agreement. “Yes, he lied about a lot of things.”
“Well, no point staying here,” sighed Captain Bob. “Come on, you lot. Let’s go ashore and find a telephone. I need to ring my daughter.”
One by one, the voyagers climbed out of the boat and slodged through cold, muddy water towards the city. Some hours later, by now on solid pavements, they reached Tower Bridge just as the hooters sounded, warning people it was about to open. “Must be a big’un coming through,” said Captain Catastrophe.
“AND important!” Odi added. He guessed as much by the fleet of yachts, ferries, steamers and motor boats which had formed an escort for the huge ship that was approaching, and there were thousands of people jostling for a view.
Captain Catastrophe whistled through his teeth. “That’s the biggest ship I’ve seen since the Titanic!”
So, it was. The biggest, shiniest, most magnificent vessel ever to sound its horn in British waters. It was also frighteningly familiar. Odi and Joe glanced at each other, too horrified to speak as the Ocean of Smyle’s swept grandly past them. On the near side of the ship, they could just make out the large figure of Mr. Smyle and, next to him, two younger figures.
“It’s Miles and Alice!” yelled Joe. He started to wave frantically. “Alice! Miles!….”
“Are you crazy?!” Odi cried. “That guy tried to kill us. Do you really want him to know we’re here?”
It was all he could do to stop Joe waving and yelling at the top of his voice. Obviously, he was glad to see his brother and sister alive and well, but recognising the other figure on the bridge curbed Joe’s enthusiasm more effectively than a two-ton ice-cube.
“So, there you are, Smyle!” growled Captain Catastrophe. “And to think, he’s got the world in his pocket!”
Unnoticed by the old sea salt and his companions, a convoy of limousines passed by, having emerged from Smyle’s yacht. In the second car, a tinted window slid open just enough for an auburn-haired woman with cold blue eyes to look out. Her gaze fixed upon three children in the crowd. Rapping on the glass which divided the back seat from her driver, she screeched loudly. “Stop! Let me out! Stop this car at once!”
Immediately, the car came to a halt, she leapt from it, uncoiling her endless legs like springs, and signalled to the occupants of the other cars to follow her. By now, however, the crowds had increased and were moving up town for a closer look at Smyle’s astonishing vessel. There was also a regiment of guards in full dress uniforms to contend with as they marched towards the reception dock. With so many people around, it was difficult to reach the children, and by the time the woman caught sight of them again, they were climbing into a red car on the opposite side of the bridge.
“Ahh, thank you, Sandra!” Captain Catastrophe hugged his daughter before ushering Elysha and the boys into the back seat of her Astra. “Nice of you to come and pick us up.” The way he spoke, anyone would think he’d just come back from a weekend package in Majorca.
“You certainly pick your moments,” Sandra Craddock said drily “The traffic’s terrible!”
“So where did your ship land this time?” she asked once they reached the motorway.
“I got as far as the Estuary,” Her father replied proudly. “And I found these very strange fish on my travels.” Sandra smiled at the children’s reflections in her rear mirror.
As she did so, she noticed the limousine. “Strange,” she muttered. “I’m sure that car is following me.”
Captain Catastrophe turned to look. “It looks like one of those official vehicles,” he said. “I’ll bet they belong to that landlubbing Smyle.”
“Mr. Smyle!?” his daughter gasped. “What on earth would someone so important want with us?”
“Well, it’s long story,” replied the Captain, “and if you want to live to hear it, I suggest you press hard on that accelerator!”
Luckily for everyone, Sandra was better at driving than her father was at sailing. She changed gear, revved the engine, and set off up the M1 with the limousine in hot pursuit. A long chase followed, until eventually, Sandra, waiting until the last second, swerved off the motorway onto a junction, flew round the roundabout at the bottom of the sliproad, and roared around a bend, straight into a car wash, where it couldn’t be seen. The limousine, being built for cruising rather than racing, was completely outfoxed. Having overshot the junction, it had no choice but to slam on the brakes and reverse along the hard shoulder, to the fury of oncoming motorists. By the time it reached the roundabout, the driver hadn’t a clue which way to go. Reluctantly, after continuing for a few miles down one of the routes, he turned back towards London.
“So, you’re one of the Hadwin kids?” said Sandra.
“You recognise me?” asked Joe.
“Hard not to really!” Sandra replied, “seeing as your face was on the TV news every night for months. But why did you run away?”
Not for the first time, Joe told his story and Sandra’s mouth gaped ever wider with astonishment.
“So, we couldn’t even take you to the police?” she gasped.
“No! Certainly not!” bellowed the Captain. “They’d simply hand them straight back to Mr. Smyle, and we can’t have that now, can we?”
“So, we couldn’t even take you to the police?” she gasped.
“No! Certainly not!” bellowed the Captain. “They’d simply hand them straight back to Mr. Smyle, and we can’t have that now, can we?”
“No,” agreed Sandra. “But we can’t carry on in this car any longer. Every policeman in the country will be searching for it.”
“But where can we take them?” her father wondered. “Of course, Elysha could stay with you, Sandra!”
“No!” howled Elysha in protest. “I want to stay with Captain Bob and Joe and Odi!”
“You can’t,” replied Odi flatly. “Girls get in the way.”
“Oh thanks!” said Sandra.
“Take no notice of Odi,” Captain Bob said with a chuckle. “But I do think our young lady would be better off with you, Sandra – if you’ve got the room?”
For, Sandra, whose two grown-up children had recently flown the nest, having another youngster in the house was quite appealing.
“But why can’t I stay with you?” Elysha begged, her large dark eyes brimming with tears. “Don’t you like me, Captain Bob?”
“Of course, I do!” the Captain replied, touched to think he was so popular. “And we’re not abandoning you. It’s just that me and the boys are on the run and it won’t be safe for little girls. Elymas isn’t after you, but Joe and Odi can make life very awkward for him. Imagine the damage to his reputation when the world finds out he tried to drown them! Don’t be upset. We’ll all meet up again once this unfortunate business has been resolved.”
“And when will that be, Captain?” asked Odi.
Captain Bob looked at him, unable to answer his question. “I don’t know lad, I just don’t know.”
“And in the meantime?” Odi persisted. “What happens to me and Joe?”
Just then, Joe had a brainwave. “We could go back to Fernilee!” he suggested. “We’ve got lots of friends in the forest.” Secretly, he was hoping to meet up with Roots.
“Brilliant idea, Joe!” Captain Catastrophe exclaimed. “And I’ll come with you. Drop us off at the next railway station, Sandra. We’ll get the train.”