Von Gobstopper's Arcade

by Alexandra Adornetto

  With their arms pinned behind their backs, Ernest, Milli and Fritz were led by red-faced and dishevelled Botchers to their common room. The doctors mopped their brows and poured each other stiff drinks whilst someone alerted Tempest Anomali. Everyone knew she’d arrived when the doors were kicked open by a metal-tipped boot.

  Everything about Tempest Anomali suggested turbulence, Milli thought, from the strands of hair falling over her face like black twigs to the crocheted shawl slipping from her sharp shoulders. Something she hadn’t noticed before was that Tempest had a wandering eye. It was something she usually managed to control but when she became riled or over-excited, as she certainly was now, the eye wandered off so far that only the white could be seen. It made her look quite deranged. She pinned the children and Fritz with her good eye and her upper lip did not stop quivering with pent-up emotion.

  ‘What have we here?’ She stalked towards them, too tall for real gracefulness. ‘Hopeless children and a renegade employee!’

  ‘They abducted a patient from theatre,’ a Botcher informed her.

  ‘Who was on duty?’

  ‘According to the roster, Spleen and Bunion, but they’re nowhere to be found.’

  ‘In hiding, no doubt, hoping it’ll all blow over,’ scoffed Tempest. ‘How did they get to theatre anyway—in wheelchairs?’

  No one felt sure enough of Tempest’s reactions to attempt laughter. Instead they looked fixedly at particular flecks in the grey floor, hoping she’d soon dismiss them. It didn’t help that she was carrying a silver-tipped cane; she had been known, when in one of her furies, to attack them with whatever she happened to be carrying at the time.

  ‘And where, pray, is the patient?’ she continued.

  ‘I’m afraid she escaped,’ replied one of the Botchers sheepishly.

  ‘Escaped? How?’

  ‘She was assisted by a teddy bear.’

  ‘Do I look like an idiot?’ she screamed. ‘Are you asking me to believe you were outwitted by a soft toy?’

  ‘He was a particularly large soft toy,’ said Dr Savage.

  Tempest Anomali was about to bring her cane crashing down on the surgeon’s head when he blurted out something that stopped her.

  ‘I heard him speak to the doll.’

  At this, the look in Tempest’s eyes grew even wilder and she threw back her head and let out a piercing scream. It sounded just like a cat whose tail has been trodden on.

  ‘Spoke? Can this be true?’ she spat out. ‘Have Dr Illustrious paged immediately! This is an emergency.’

  Milli and Ernest felt their skin prickle at the mention of a Dr Illustrious. It was just like the feeling you get before the onset of an allergic reaction. Tempest Anomali’s words had confirmed what the children had suspected for some time now. They had last seen Lord Aldor being carried in pieces off the battlefield by his ally Federico Lampo. This is not the end was his final threat. You will see me again. Had Lord Aldor returned to fulfil his promise? Were they about to come face to face with him yet again?

  The door swung open a second time and two nasty-looking characters pushed into the common room. They were Bertha Slurp and Alistair Phony-Phitch and together they made up the marketing division of Von Gobstopper’s Toy Arcade. The pair were also Tempest’s fiercest rivals and competed jealously with her for Dr Illustrious’s attention. Somehow they had got wind of trouble and had come to gloat. They sincerely hoped it would mean a reprimand for Tempest—something they wanted to see for themselves.

  ‘What’s going on here, Tempest?’ Phony-Phitch taunted. ‘It is imperative that the arcade’s public image remains untarnished.’

  Bertha Slurp’s eyes twinkled maliciously. ‘I don’t expect the doctor’s gunna be too pleased.’

  Bertha had the face and shoulders of a bull terrier. She was short and stocky with calves like tree trunks and ankles that bulged over too-tight shoes. She wore a wool skirt and a twinset in pale lavender. Her stringy grey hair was pulled back from her face in a tight ponytail and her skin was blotchy underneath poorly applied foundation. There were broken capillaries either side of her coarse nose. Slurp was a nickname she’d carried from school, no doubt acquired due to her eating habits as well as her abnormally large tongue, which her mouth wasn’t quite able to house. Some of it was always hanging out, like a forgotten piece of washing on the clothesline. As a consequence, she had constant pools of saliva at the corners of her mouth, which she had to slurp back into her throat if she tried to say too many sentences at once.

  Alistair Phony-Phitch, on the other hand, was the sort of person who can slather on charm like sunscreen. He wasn’t unattractive, with limp dishwater blond hair, a blobby nose and a set of tiny perfect teeth. His hooded blue eyes drank in everything and gave nothing back. He wasn’t oily or unwashed, but nevertheless had a slippery quality that made him generally disliked amongst the medical staff. He wore an olive-green velour jacket and an open-necked shirt with a cravat. He would have had no trouble working as a double agent: he was intrigued by intrigue and felt loyalty to no one.

  ‘You’d better let us go,’ warned Milli. ‘If we’re not home soon, our parents will be sending out a search party.’

  ‘The doctor’ll know ‘ow to deal with you,’ said Bertha with a nasty giggle. She turned to the Botchers. “Ave youse let Illustrious know they’re ‘ere? What’s keepin’ ‘im, I wonder?’

  ‘Silence, Slurp, I give the orders around here,’ said Tempest cattily. She cast a nervous look towards the door and gave a short burst of hysterical laughter, then turned stony-faced again.

  Time passed and the tension mounted, then the sound of running feet put everyone on alert. A lab assistant wearing safety goggles and holding a blowtorch burst into the room. ‘He’s on his way!’ he cried. ‘Dr Illustrious is coming.’

  The announcement sent the entire room into a frenzy. Some of the Botchers opened their clipboards and pointed things out to each other in an effort to look productive. Others ran about gathering empty coffee mugs and plumping up the cushions on the couches. Everyone smoothed down their clothes, tucked away stray hairs and stood as straight as boards, like primary-school children awaiting a visit from the headmaster.

  Tempest Anomali gripped the children’s shoulders very hard and leaned over them. ‘Tricks won’t help you now,’ she hissed.

  Dr Illustrious must indeed have been important because his arrival was preceded by no less than three bodyguards. First came a brutish-looking man with a solid tank-like body and a face so featureless that at first glance it looked like a flesh-coloured blob. It didn’t take a genius to guess that he was there for his strength rather than what was between his ears. The man’s clone filed into the room after him, followed by a third identical figure. They all had earrings in one ear, folded arms over their black shirts and eyes hidden behind reflective sunglasses. Milli thought they looked ridiculous, like thugs from a gangster movie, but their grim expressions left no doubt that they took their jobs very seriously indeed. Their names were Mince, Wince and Vince.

  When Dr Illustrious finally made his entrance, the people in the room turned as silent as a church congregation and lowered their eyes respectfully. All except for Tempest Anomali, who threw herself onto the ground, arms stretched heavenward in a fervent kind of worship.

  Lord Aldor had certainly changed since the momentous battle at the gates of Mirth. They hardly recognised the mad magician they had come to know and dread. Somehow he had reinvented himself and adopted a completely new identity—that of the sleek and urbane Dr Illustrious.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A Wicked Conglomerate

  Dr Illustrious had very short silver hair, so short it was just a mat of sparkling bristles on his head. His eyes, the colour of polished river stones, gleamed and their pupils were abnormally large. They expanded ever further, like a stain, when he sighted Milli and Ernest. The long beard had disappeared, replaced by a trimmed moustache. He wore an elegant black suit, a spotty tie and his shoes were wrap
ped in the white muslin covers surgeons wear when they enter an operating theatre. Only one of his hands was bare; the other was encased in a fawn glove. The index finger of the gloved hand was missing, leaving a peculiar-looking gap, as if he had been taken apart and put back together in a hurry. Ernest noticed that one of his ears was also missing, the coral pink ear canal gruesomely exposed.

  When Dr Illustrious threw his head back to examine the children more closely, they saw his lips were wrinkled like the skin on decaying fruit. His own skin was pulled taut over his bones but sagged beneath his eyes like two used teabags. The whites of his eyes (what remained of them) glowed like torches in his shrunken face. The disturbing calm that had always characterised him, abandoning him only temporarily during their last encounter, had returned. He regarded the children coolly, showing neither hatred nor triumph, merely an expression of emptiness. It made them think of a walking corpse.

  Tempest Anomali spoke, still in her kneeling position. ‘We did not wish to disturb you, Master,’ she cried, the words oozing from her mouth like syrup, ‘but we have discovered something that had to be brought to your attention.’

  Dr Illustrious stroked Tempest’s head, as if she were a household pet. ‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘You were right to summon me. I prefer dealing with old enemies myself.’ His lips curled back over sharp teeth.

  Tempest puffed up with self-importance as she sat on her knees and wagged a thin finger in the direction of the children. She seemed to be having difficulty keeping her dodgy eye from rolling back in her head, so overcome was she with devotion.

  ‘They were caught interfering with our plans,’ she told her master, ‘and they were not working alone.’

  Dr Illustrious stared at the children with his glassy eyes. Without the long beard and hair ornaments, he appeared smaller and thinner and, if possible, even more chilling. He glided over to Milli and Ernest. They met his frozen stare, refusing to be cowed. He placed a gloved finger beneath Milli’s chin and lifted her face. She recoiled at his touch and a wave coursed through her body like icy water.

  ‘Older but no wiser, I see,’ he teased softly. He withdrew his finger and Milli was left feeling as if the intense cold had burnt a hole right through her skin. Dr Illustrious made a disapproving sound with his tongue. ‘You were hoping to surprise me, I think. I’m sorry to disappoint you but I have known of your presence since you arrived.’ His politeness set their nerves on edge.

  ‘We knew you had to be at the bottom of all this,’ said Milli, with a show of boldness she did not feel.

  ‘Sometimes you act every bit the child that you are,’ said Dr Illustrious with a smile. ‘I am disappointed in you two. Getting yourselves caught so soon rather spoils the fun.’

  Tempest Anomali couldn’t control herself. ‘What are you going to do with them, Master?’ she asked in a tone of girlish excitement. ‘Bury them, barbecue them or blast them into space?’ She twisted a lock of her hair compulsively as she spoke.

  ‘Lovely ideas, thank you, Tempest, but I have yet to decide. They may be put to some use before they are disposed of.’

  ‘Of course.’ Tempest nodded in deference to his higher thinking.

  ‘Let me at ‘em!’ was Bertha Slurp’s simple solution. She snarled so enthusiastically that she had to be restrained by Alistair Phony-Phitch.

  ‘Why not let me drown them in my charm?’ he proposed.

  ‘Drowning’s our job,’ said Mince, stepping forward and speaking on behalf of his brothers.

  ‘Shut up, you fools,’ said Dr Illustrious in his most snappish voice since his arrival. He returned his attention to the children and resumed his courteous tone. ‘How remiss of me not to introduce my esteemed team of specialists,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe you’ve met Doctors Clive Cranium, Hideous Blunt, Pancretia Juice, Matron Spate, Nurse Tong and the famous Dr Pesto Proboscis. They are responsible for the medical miracles performed here.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ whined Alistair Phony-Phitch. ‘Administration is always undervalued.’

  Dr Illustrious ignored him. ‘Of course, their work would not be possible without the generous funding of our benefactor, Gustav Von Gobstopper.’

  At this the entire room erupted into laughter. Tempest Anomali held her sides; Alistair Phony-Phitch laughed so hard he had to use his cravat to dab at his eyes; and the thuggish trio slapped their thighs and pretended they’d understood the joke.

  ‘Whatever you’re planning, you won’t get away with it,’ said Fritz, incensed by the ridiculing of his uncle. ‘The Von Gobstopper family is known and loved worldwide.’

  ‘Your family pride is touching,’ said Dr Illustrious dismissively, ‘but useless.’ He leaned in towards Fritz and continued in a whisper: ‘When we have finished with him, Von Gobstopper too will be disposed of, like the refuse that he is.’

  The veins in Fritz’s neck throbbed and he lunged at Dr Illustrious. He was intercepted by Mince and Wince who shoved him back against the wall. Dr Illustrious looked mildly entertained.

  ‘Have you learned so little from our encounters, children? Have you not seen that strength is rewarded and innocence punished? The golliwogs soon realised that—they work for me now.’

  ‘Only because you did something to them!’ shouted Milli.

  ‘Now, now,’ Dr Illustrious chided. ‘A tweak here and there never hurt anybody. We all have a dark side—all I did was tap into theirs.’

  ‘This is the saddest you’ve ever been,’ taunted Milli, ‘vandalising toys to make yourself feel powerful.’

  ‘Oh, but you are quite wrong. It isn’t power that motivates me these days. I’ve moved on from that to something infinitely more satisfying. Can you guess what it might be?’ Dr Illustrious allowed the silence to expand before answering his own question. ‘Revenge, of course. Did you think I would endure public humiliation without trying to settle the score?’

  ‘You think you’ll get revenge on us by ruining toys?’ Ernest asked in disbelief.

  ‘Not exactly. Allow me to show you the method behind the madness. As a fellow scientist, I think you’ll appreciate this.’

  Dr Illustrious glided from the room, indicating that Tempest and the trio of bodyguards should follow. The thugs gripped Fritz and the children roughly by the arms and hauled them off down the passage too.

  Milli noticed that as soon as Dr Illustrious had left the room, the doctors snapped shut their clipboards in relief and resumed their conversations about snow sports and home renovations.

  There was a smell like burning rubber throughout the tunnel-like passages. Milli and Ernest tried to take in as much as they could of their route for future reference but were hampered by the low-flying bats that kept swooping over their heads. They could hear the hum of machinery and clattering from the pipes that ran along the length of the ceiling. In the walls were mausoleum-like compartments and Milli wondered what they contained. At one point they heard shuffling sounds and saw that it came from the padded slippers of the surgeons who scuttled through the passageways like rats in a maze. Their groups parted respectfully on sighting Dr Illustrious, allowing him room to pass.

  Finally Dr Illustrious stopped at a large wooden door heavy with giant hinges and bolts. There was tinsel draped above the lintel, the handles were in the shape of antlers and a Christmas wreath hung from one. Most baffling of all were the words written in Christmas lights:

  Santa’s Workshop

  The children and Fritz looked at one another, puzzled. What possible connection could there be between the jolly man in a red suit whose arrival was eagerly awaited at the end of each year by children across the globe and the deadly Dr Illustrious?

  Dr Illustrious flung open the door to reveal a large room filled with the smell of burning. A great open furnace with a stone hearth stood in one corner, and inside it was a huge Christmas tree, blazing so fiercely the children had to shield their eyes from the heat. The tree was reduced to a pile of ash so quickly they knew it must be an enchanted fire. A group of small
trolls appeared hauling another tree, which they threw in to reignite the blaze. They were hideous-looking creatures with flattened faces and tufts of coarse black hair sprouting from their nostrils and chins. Their ears were bat-like, they had swollen potbellies, and their arms and legs were lumpy with queer-shaped growths. Their green eyes were bright and round, and they grumbled and cursed as they worked. The children realised they were a horrible distortion of Santa’s helpers.

  In the middle of the room was a half-finished version of what looked like Santa’s sleigh. Trolls clambered over it like insects, applying paint and lacquer where needed, stitching the seats and polishing the headlamps. A group of six reindeer were harnessed to the sleigh, but they weren’t the sort of reindeer children fantasise about seeing the night before Christmas. These are usually gentle-faced and friendly-looking. The reindeer in Santa’s Workshop had matted coats, their antlers appeared to have been sharpened into spikes and their eyes were large, bloodshot and mad-looking. The biggest of them, presumably the much celebrated Rudolph, was the grumpiest of all. His red nose was badly inflamed from a cold and flies buzzed around his ears, which were moth-eaten like a wool coat that has been too long in storage.

  The trolls not tending the fire or preparing the sleigh were busy packing toys, their actions synchronised like those of workers on an assembly line. On the floor was a huge pile of striped gift boxes. Troll one handed a box to troll two, who randomly selected a mutant toy from the rows on the benches and packed it snugly between layers of tissue paper. Troll three sealed the box and decorated it with ribbon. Troll four (white-haired and wearing spectacles) dipped his nib into an inkwell and wrote names on tags, which troll five attached to the gifts. The children immediately recognised the names on the gift tags—it appeared that every child in Drabville was to receive one of these horrible gifts.