The Speaker was even good enough to give up his Woolsack for Alice to sit on, while the others took their seats on the front row, next to the Prime Minister himself.
“Ahhh, the Tower, the Palace, the Abbey…you will hava so mucha fun, I think!” enthused Henrico as he packed four delicious lunches. Cheese, ham, tomatoes, olives (which the children hated but were far too polite to say) and cold pasta with tuna in a wonderful sauce.
“My, you’ve done us proud!” said Miles brightly. “I can hardly fit this in my rucksack.”
“If you’ll permit me, Master Miles, I will organise a picnic basket which someone else could carry…..” smarmed Soames.
“No need!” insisted Miles, “We want to be like proper tourists, don’t we, gang?”
The ‘gang’ were just about to set off, when Alice suddenly tripped. “Ouch!” she yelped. “I’ve sprained my ankle.”
Laurel and her brother groaned. “No wonder, wearing shoes like that!” said Miles, pointing at Alice’s 6-inch platforms.
“Actually,” said Laurel, “if we’re going to be walking around, we could all do with changing our shoes.”
It took another 10 minutes for the party to change into comfortable trainers, after which they all emerged from their cabins with rucksacks on their backs, looking fresh and raring to go.
“Where to first?” asked one of their minders helpfully.
“Oooh, I don’t know. Somewhere….high,” replied Miles.
“There will do!” he cried and pointed towards the Houses of Parliament. “I’d like to see Big Ben.”
“Will they let us in?” wondered Laurel.
It was one of the largest minders who answered. “Lady, any friend of Mr. Smyle’s goes anywhere they like!”
Sure enough, no one at Westminster turned a hair when the children and Laurel arrived to watch Prime Minister’s Question Time. In fact, the Speaker was even good enough to give up his Woolsack for Alice to sit on, while the others took their seats on the front row, next to the Prime Minister himself. After waving at the cameras, however, and raising a few objections in the House, the children grew bored quite quickly and made a noisy exit.
“Now for the clock!” said Miles eagerly, and he and Laurel, and Alice skipped up the steps, closely shadowed by at least four hefty bodyguards.
Eventually, they were all standing on the roof, gazing down at the Thames and the magnificent City of Westminster.
“Be careful, lad!” yelled one of the minders who was not at all at home with heights. “In fact, I think we should all get down now, it isn’t safe up here!”
With that, he stretched out an arm to grab Miles, but the boy dodged out of reach and inched towards the edge.
“Come back!” howled the minder, only to watch, helplessly, as Miles, Alice and Laurel balanced on the guttering.
“Now!” called Miles, and all four of them jumped off the roof.
Horrified, the minders scrambled frantically towards them – too late. They could only look on helplessly as their charges disappeared. All three pulled a cord on their rucksacks which flew open, allowing a swathe of gold-coloured silk to billow out. With these makeshift parachutes, the trio were picked up by a thermal and carried gracefully over parks and malls and buildings, finally landing on a conveniently parked open double-decker tourist bus.
“‘Ere, what’s your game!?” the driver demanded, but he soon shut up when he saw the bundle of fifty-pound notes Miles waved in front of him.
“I’ll give you £1,000 if you’ll take us to Derbyshire,” said the boy.
“Derbyshire?” cried the driver, starting up his engine. “For that money, I’d drive you to the moon!”
Chapter 34
“An apple?” Wisteria raised her eyebrows “My goodness, Odi, Gordon’s salary doesn’t run to apples, I’m afraid. They’re quite rare these days, you know, ever since the state clamped down on agriculture.”
“An apple?” Wisteria raised her eyebrows “My goodness, Odi, Gordon’s salary doesn’t run to apples, I’m afraid. They’re quite rare these days, you know, ever since the state clamped down on agriculture.”
By late afternoon, Odi felt completely at home. The TV was on full blast and he and Gordon were munching crisps and other carbohydrates as Dangerman tackled yet another alien and Wisteria bustled round happily re-filling their plates.
The food was delicious, and the boy could quite understand how Gordon had developed a pot belly since last they’d met. Good living obviously agreed with him, he thought.
It had also improved Wisteria beyond recognition. She simply couldn’t stop wittering…..not that she hadn’t always been one to witter, mind, but now she did it merrily and there was a real purpose to it. “More popcorn, Odi?” she kept offering. “Or perhaps you’d prefer something more substantial? I could easily order a tub of fried chicken.”
“Aye, lass, order one each!” said Gordon, belching appreciatively, “and get some chips to go with it.”
“Hey, could I have an apple or something?” asked Odi who suddenly remembered he hadn’t eaten fruit for ages.
“An apple?” Wisteria raised her eyebrows “My goodness, Odi, Gordon’s salary doesn’t run to apples, I’m afraid. They’re quite rare these days, you know, ever since the state clamped down on agriculture.”
“Aye, you can’t get fruit for love nor money these days. It’s only available in specialist stores for card carrying members of the GOB.”
“And even then, it costs a fortune,” Wisteria added, “because you’re only allowed to grow it under tight government controls.”
“Which reminds me, you haven’t yet ordered that chicken,” hinted Gordon.
“Oh. silly me!” Wisteria picked up their shiny new state-of-the-art digital cordless telephone. But before she’d even got the dialling tone, there came a loud knock at the door.
“That’s probably Joe coming for his grub,” said Odi “he must have heard us.”
It wasn’t Joe. Wisteria had hardly reached the front door when it burst open to reveal half a dozen sinister looking men and the tall, imposing figure of an auburn-haired woman in a purple and red PVC cat suit.
“Prism!” gasped Wisteria and her plump frame shrank even further as she backed into the living room, white-faced and trembling.
“So, THIS is what you’ve been doing since last I saw you. Stuffing your pasty fat face!” Prism stared down her pinched nose at the remains of the recently enjoyed feast. “Good to see some things never change.”
Odi’s mouth gaped open allowing several soggy crisps to drop onto Wisteria’s nylon carpet.
“And dear little Odi, how I’ve missed you,” she continued, her mocking voice more biting than the boy remembered. “Such a cosy little scene. What a pity it’s coming to an end.” Prism gazed coolly at the threesome before she snapped into action and grabbed poor Odi by the ear. He was tiptoeing towards the kitchen with a view to escape, but his enemy was too fast for him.
“I think Not!” the woman breathed, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Where’s your friend?!” she demanded. “Come on, tell me, you little beast, where’s that nasty little Joe!”
“Here, you leave the wee lad alone!” cried Gordon, jumping to his feet. This heroic attempt earned scarcely a contemptuous glance from Prism who simply thrust a bony elbow into his stomach, causing him to crumple on the floor. Sadly, the Scotsman’s power had dulled significantly posince his epic deeds in Babel.
“Now, Odi Rogers, I want the truth! Where is that other nasty brat!?”
“He’s dead!” shrieked Odi. “Mr. Smyle pushed him off the boat and the sharks ate him!”
“Liar!” Prism growled. “I’ve seen him for myself, as puling and pathetic as ever! Any self-respecting fish would spit him out! Now tell me where he is, before I pull your ear off!”
“That won’t be necessary!” came a stern voice from behind her. It was Bevis, who grasped the woman’s wrist, preventing her twisting Odi’s ear any further.
“We’ll take him back with us. He’ll talk!” the man promised, and, at the same time, he shot Odi a warning look not to say anything.
Odi took the hint and didn’t resist when Bevis took him by the arm and led him away.
“Oh, please don’t hurt him!” cried Wisteria, genuinely concerned.
“How touching!” Prism remarked sarcastically and paused briefly to hiss into the smaller woman’s face, “I’ll deal with you later.”
Gordon and Wisteria watched helplessly as their unwanted guests marched out of the door with Odi. At that moment, Roots and Joe appeared from around the corner, causing Odi to yell desperately. “Run, Joe! Run!”
“There he is the little creep!” yelled Prism and she set off in pursuit. Odi, however, had other ideas. He managed to wriggle free from Bevis just long enough to stick out a foot and send Prism sprawling. Furious, she sprang up, lynx-like, to her feet and raised a hand to slap the boy with such force, he would surely have been knocked unconscious.
“Prism!” A shrill voice stopped the Nunja in her tracks and she turned to see the furious Wisteria emerging from her home with a reinforced plastic mop handle.
“You wanted to see me? Let’s make it now!”
Her former superior let out an involuntary “Hah!’ of astonishment. It was hard to believe the timid Wisteria would ever have the nerve to challenge anyone, especially herself – the world’s top martial arts combatant! Prism reached into her pocket and pulled out a staff which dangled in three pieces. With one deft movement, she clicked them into place to form one lethal unit, and crouched to face her opponent. At one time, she had only to glare menacingly at Wisteria to see her cringe. But not this time. This time, Wisteria had something to fight for.
Slowly, the two women circled each other, Prism hissing and spitting like a wild cat.
Suddenly she sprang to the attack, her staff whizzing at such a pace, Odi’s eyes were spinning.
“Go Wisteria, go!” he cried.
Wisteria needed no encouragement. After a shaky start, when it seemed she’d be overwhelmed by Prism’s ferocity, she rallied, and it soon became obvious she could hold her own. After a series of defensive manoeuvres, one blow from the mop handle made its mark, giving Wisteria the confidence to drive home the attack. She was also angry. Very angry.
Seven years of servitude to Prism with all their suffering and humiliation could not have done it. But love for Gordon and her need to make amends to Odi for her own unkindness gave her a much-needed edge. She thrust, she parried, she dodged, she weaved and she even, at one stage, somersaulted in mid-air, and throughout the battle, she kept her enemy at bay until, with a might shriek, she set to with a series of satisfying whacks to grind Prism to the ground. By this time, all the neighbours had arrived on the scene. Beech, Horse, and all the remaining tree people, barely recognisable in smart townie clothes, stood and watched the battle with open mouths.
Seven years of servitude to Prism with all their suffering and humiliation could not have done it. But love for Gordon and her need to make amends to Odi for her own unkindness gave her a much-needed edge. She thrust, she parried, she dodged, she weaved and she even, at one stage, somersaulted in mid-air, and throughout the battle, she kept her enemy at bay until, with a might shriek, she set to with a series of satisfying whacks to grind Prism to the ground. By this time, all the neighbours had arrived on the scene. Beech, Horse, and all the remaining tree people, barely recognisable in smart townie clothes, stood and watched the battle with open mouths.
Eventually, shocked and exhausted, Prism lay on the driveway, an ungainly heap as her opponent stood over her, spinning her weapon in triumph, as the local residents clapped and cheered. Even Mordant and his merry men found it hard not to smirk.
“Now, get off my property!” yelled Wisteria, “and don’t ever come back!”
Defeated she may be but bowed never. “Don’t just stand there, you fools!” the fallen woman snapped at her hi men. “Get after the boy!” and she scrambled to her feet, carefully avoiding the tip of Wisteria’s lethal Kleeny Mop.
“Wait!” said Bevis. “Take the car.” Mordant didn’t need telling twice. He and the rest of the men tumbled into the back seat while Bevis held the door open.
“Ladies first,” he said gallantly and held on to Odi while Prism collected herself and eased her aching body next to Mordant in the limousine.
“Hand me the boy,” she growled. But Bevis had no intention of handing Odi to her. With a thin smile, he slammed the door, which locked automatically. Then he reached into his inside coat pocket, drawing out a remote-control. With one finger he pressed a yellow button, causing the car to leap into reverse and career backwards at 50 miles an hour.
“Amazing what you can do with computers, isn’t?” he mused to no-one in particular as the limousine headed for the by-pass.
Aware that they were trapped, Prism and the goons banged desperately on the windows, but to no avail. Bevis pressed another button so that the vehicle accelerated even faster and swerved round a bend on two wheels, tyres screeching and furious passengers screaming to be let out.
“Where’s it going?” asked Odi, impressed.
“Ever heard of Land’s End?” Bevis smirked. “Well, they’ll be going just a bit further than that. As for you, young man, you’re coming with me.”
“Do I have time for a tub of chicken?” Odi pleaded, unwilling to leave the source of supply.
But Bevis shook his head. “We’ve got to get out of here before Elymas arrives.”
“This Elymas….he’s actually Mr. Smyle, right?” asked Odi. “I thought so. Anyone who wears checked suits has got to be bad!”
“Yes, but we’ve no time for explanations….” urged Bevis, pulling Odi after him.
“Just a minute!” cried Wisteria who ran into her house, returning within seconds with a large plastic box. “These should keep you going for a while. I baked them myself!”
“Not the….Not the profiteroles!” moaned Gordon.
“I’ve decided Gordy, there’ll be no more cakes and puddings for you, except as extra-special treats. You’re going on a diet,” Wisteria insisted. Suddenly, she felt all the breath in her body being crushed out of her. It was Odi giving her a hug.
“Odi!” she gasped, “so you forgive me then?”
“Forgive you?!” he replied “Why, right now, you’re my next-to-most-favourite person! Or at least next to my next-most-favourite person, depending on how much chocolate you’ve put on these cakes.”
“Come on, Odi!” Bevis urged, “We need to go.”
“Where are you taking him?” demanded Gordon, still wheezing from Prism’s blow to his solar plexus.
“Let’s just say he has an overdue appointment,” came the reply, “Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing him again!” And, with one brief wave, Bevis led his young friend down the street towards a shiny black Porsche.
“Appointment?” said Odi nervously. “You taking me to the dentist?”
“Wait and see!” was all Bevis would say as the engine purred delightfully.
“Whoa, this is one mean machine!” Odi cried and started twiddling with the dashboard.
“Don’t touch anything!” warned Bevis. “Or you might end up being catapulted through the roof!”
“Cool!” Odi chuckled. “Speaking of which, are you with the good guys now?”
“Depends what you mean by good,” said Bevis, easing the car into gear. “If you mean, am I on your side, then ‘yes’, just like I’ve always been.”
“Only these days it’s hard to tell” Odi continued. “At least with Prism you always knew where you stood. She looked mean, she talked mean, she acted mean, and hey, guess what? She really was mean. Whereas Wisteria used to be mean and now she’s keen, if you know what I mean. ‘
Then take Mr. Smyle. He seemed a really nice guy at first, and now he’s like the evilest person in the universe. But, hey, you take the prize, Uncle Jeff, Bevis or whoever you are! First you’re good, then you’re bad, then you’re good, then you’re bad, then you’re good, then you’re bad, then you’re……..”
Then take Mr. Smyle. He seemed a really nice guy at first, and now he’s like the evilest person in the universe. But, hey, you take the prize, Uncle Jeff, Bevis or whoever you are! First you’re good, then you’re bad, then you’re good, then you’re bad, then you’re good, then you’re bad, then you’re……..”
“You say Smyle fed you to the sharks?!” asked Bevis after several minutes of this ‘debate’.
“He certainly did!” Odi replied “Pitched me straight over!”
“I wonder why?” uttered Bevis with a grin but felt immediately ashamed of himself. “You kids must have really annoyed him, hey?”
“Me? Annoying?” Odi protested, then became intrigued by one of the controls. “What does this do?” he asked curiously, his finger hovering.
“Don’t touch that!” cried Bevis, losing his cool, probably for the first time in his life. But it was too late. From the back of the Porsche spurted gallons of oil which formed into a shiny film across the Motorway. Within seconds, the sound of crunching metal could be heard repeatedly as lorries and cars skidded into the barrier, hitting each other like dodgems. It was a miracle no-one was hurt.
“Do I have to tie you up?” yelled Bevis. “I didn’t have this much aggro from the CIA!”
Odi shrank into the passenger seat. “Which are you now, Uncle Jeff?” he asked, after a short uncomfortable silence. “Are you good or are you bad?”
Speechless, all Bevis could do was shake his head and try to keep his hands on the wheel, gripping it so tightly, his knuckles turned white.
“I’m just glad we’re near the end of this journey,” he murmured as he steered the car onto a slip road. The way ahead lay through a city and they wove through narrow streets until reaching an old dark building which had once been used as a railway terminal. Now, it served as a car park, although few people used it owing to its distance from the city centre. Uncle Jeff manoeuvred the Porsche around huge iron pillars and then into a corner where he stopped on a grid. Making sure no one was about, he pressed one of the buttons on his dashboard and the car began to sink. Down, down they descended into the darkness where Odi could just make out a well of ancient red bricks surrounding them.
They came to a halt moments later and Jeff switched on his headlights to reveal a huge cavernous space. He flicked the lights on and off by way of a signal and was rewarded when, from out of the blackness, a small torch gleamed in response.
“All clear!” said Jeff and inched the car towards the source of the light. Then he stopped. “Okay, Odi, out you get.”
The boy climbed out of the Porsche, squinting. It felt cold and damp and he began to tremble.
“Don’t be afraid,” Jeff said, only to be answered with a snort. “Me? Afraid?” huffed Odi indignantly. Hadn’t he survived crocodiles, sharks and nunjas? All the same, he was glad when Uncle Jeff put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
They followed the person with the torch to a metal door which, after a series of coded knocks, opened. Inside, there was nothing but blackness again until the door slammed shut and their guide opened a thick, black curtain a couple of feet in front of them. Now, they entered a passage where a red light clicked on until they reached another door, this time made of wood.
“Go in, Odi.” Jeff urged, and the boy stepped shyly into a bright, warm room that offered little in the way of comfort or style. At least it was cheerful. It also contained something that made Odi gasp.
A large man was standing on one side of the room by a table, studying a map that was spread out upon it. As Odi and Jeff entered, he turned to look, froze and stared in astonishment as the young arrival stared back at him.
For once in his young life, Odi had nothing to say. He simply flung himself into the man’s enormous arms and sobbed noisily for several minutes.
“Dad!” Odi choked when at last he had the strength, “I thought I’d never see you again!”
Stewart Rogers couldn’t reply, so strong were his emotions. Instead, he hugged his son tightly before leading him to his mother.