by Denis Byrne
*
The keen competition to be the first to greet Danny when he arrived resulted in the fact that there wasn’t a single woodland creature who didn’t know exactly what was going on now. Word of Ferdinand’s discovery spread like wildfire. Aloysius wasn’t at all pleased about this leaking of information. Naturally, once Madam Noseybeak had descended on Mrs. Vixen’s den and interrogated the world’s most famous future explorer, that was it. Aloysius wasn’t the only one put out to have his thunder commandeered by that – that interfering bundle of feathers.
Linda Ladybird could hardly contain her annoyance either. She’d a good mind to order her squadrons to dive-bomb Madam Noseybeak’s headquarters with acorns in the dead of night in reprisal.
Danny had no small task in settling everybody down when he finally arrived. Time was at a premium, and Charlie had been ordered to transform into the role he loved above all others, the famous flying goat, whom lots of people talked about, but only a few, Mrs. Pearson included, claimed to have actually seen. The goat was by far the fastest mode of transport at Danny’s disposal, and was now drawing glances of admiration from all and sundry. Even Aloysius, though he’d seen Charlie in that form the night he’d been under the weather and had his antlers shorn, was every bit as impressed now as when he’d first laid eyes on him.
Danny dismounted amid a cacophony of bleats, coos, bellows and flapping. Some of his friends, he sensed immediately, were far from happy. He told Charlie to take a stroll amongst the trees and chomp on some grass if he felt like it.
‘All right,’ Danny said, after holding up his hands for hush. ‘What’s the matter? I don’t have a lot of time today. All I did was come to thank everyone for their help, but unless I’m mistaken, I seem to have come at the wrong time.’
‘Well, it’s just not fair!’ a voice piped in his ear. He hadn’t even realised Linda had landed on his shoulder. ‘Just because we’re small, we’re overlooked all the time.’
‘What are you talking about, Linda?’ Danny asked, twisting his neck to look at her properly. ‘Every time I need a bit of luck, ladybirds are the first ones I turn to.’
‘But we could do so much more!’ Linda insisted. ‘There are millions of us. We could swarm that hideout before they knew what hit them.’
‘It’s not that simple, Linda,’ Danny replied. ‘I - -’.
‘It’s obvious you haven’t given any proper thought to this campaign, Linda!’ Madam Noseybeak interrupted from where she was perched on the lower branch of a tree. ‘Now, the way it should be approached -
Then everyone chipped in, drowning out everyone else. Aloysius was trying to put forward his proposal for a specialised darts team to lead the assault, but his voice was lost in the general babble. Ollie the otter, having dragged himself from his sick bed, was hopping up and down, trying to restore order so that he could put forward his own plan. Which nobody would have heard anyway, even if he did get round to offering it, due to the fact that he was coughing and sneezing so much.
Bartholomew the badger was all for tunnelling under the hideout and taking them by surprise by breaking up through the floorboards. He had hundreds of relations who’d be only be too happy to make a concerted attack from all points of the compass. Those heartless kidnappers wouldn’t know a thing about it until the moment they were pounced on.
Of course, this scheme, sensible though it was, went unheard in the overall bedlam. Snippets of ingenuity were flying in all directions, clashing into each other and being dashed to pieces.
Danny, from the few intermittent words he could pick out, was perfectly aware that everything was being brought to his attention out of the goodness of his friend’s hearts. He was also aware that should he select one of their options, that’s if could hear what it was, further bickering would ensue. No matter what he did, there was bound to be serious sulking to contend with. And he didn’t want that. As far as he was concerned, it was a case of too many cooks, etc, etc, etc. So, not for the first time, he had to call on all his diplomatic skills to try and keep everyone happy.
‘You’ve done more than enough already,’ he declared, after he’d somehow managed to restore order by cupping his hands into a makeshift megaphone and called for silence. ‘The Superintendent asked me to tell you how grateful he is to everyone. He thinks an entire team of detectives wouldn’t have been as successful as you have. When I told him how everybody had chipped in and cooperated so unselfishly with each other, he couldn’t believe it. If he could only get the same level of commitment from humans, he said his job would be made an awful lot easier.’
Muted murmurs of agreement greeted this pronouncement, accompanied with a great deal of satisfied head-nodding. Madam Noseybeak all but nodded hers off altogether, so enthusiastic was she to be seen to concur with those very sentiments. She had a low opinion of the capabilities of humans at the best of times, and having it confirmed by one of their own nearly caused her to break the branch she was perched on, she was bobbing up and down so much.
‘But the thing is,’ Danny continued ‘We can’t take any chances on this operation. If too many of us converge on them together, heaven knows what might happen if they saw us coming. You do all understand that, don’t you?’
There were sighs of disappointment all round. Madam Noseybeak gave a few extra, long drawn-out ones to let everyone know she was much more disappointed than the rest of them. Bartholomew was also considering if he should point out that nobody would see his battalion coming, but thought better of it. One or two or his impatient cousins could possibly surface too soon and gave the game away. He’d never be able to face Danny again if anything like that happened.
‘Of course we understand, Danny,’ Linda squeaked into his ear, giving Madam Noseybeak a look which a suspicious individual might possibly have construed as smug. ‘But don’t forget to call again if you need me. I’ll keep my forces on red alert just in case. And on behalf of the entire community, may I wish you the best of ladybird luck.’
‘Why, thank you, Linda!’ Danny replied, as Madam Noseybeak sought to keep herself from simmering with indignation at this turn of events. ‘And thank you all for your time and support. You’ve been simply wonderful, each and every one of you.’
Which went a long way to mollifying even Madam Noseybeak. Like the rest of the woodland creatures, hearing praise from Danny was like music to her ears. She wasn’t even harbouring any ungracious thoughts about Linda as she watched Charlie emerge from the trees on Danny’s whistle of command. She was as fascinated as everyone else seeing him leap aboard the winged goat’s back and been borne away to face the most dangerous mission of his life.
*
Teddy Tattoo entered the room not thirty seconds after receiving his Boss’s instructions. He was bare-chested, barefooted, and wore tracksuit bottoms. Teddy had been pumping iron in the gym when he’d received the summons, yet there wasn’t a bead of perspiration in evidence of the fact. He was breathing evenly, the snakes, dragons and blood-dripping daggers in which his skin was covered undulating gently with his movements.
He carried four drinking-straws, two held lightly in either hand. Matthew was reminded of a strongman in a circus he’d once brought Lily to as a special treat for one of her birthdays, the only difference being that the circus strongman carried steel bars into the ring with him, which he bent into various shapes as his act progressed. Matthew couldn’t help thinking drinking-straws looked very much out of place in the hands of this particular performer. He wondered what they were for.
‘Ah, Mr. Tattoo!’ Moran greeted his special employee pleasantly. ‘Prompt and punctual as usual, I see. Allow me to introduce you to our guest. I don’t believe you two gentlemen have encountered each other before.’ He smiled broadly, nodding from Matthew to Teddy, then reversing the procedure. ‘Mr. Dawson, Mr. Tattoo. Mr Tattoo, Mr. Dawson.’
Teddy bowed his head reverentially in Matthew’s direction as though in the presence of royalty. Matthew ignored the introduction, despite th
e imposing presence Teddy represented. Matthew stood there, grim-faced and unsmiling, not even bothering to so much as acknowledge that another person had entered the room. At the back of his mind, though, he couldn’t help but wonder what was coming next. Drinking-straws? If they were somehow intended to intimidate him, he couldn’t begin to imagine how. He also wondered if there was any significance in the fact that they were they were all of different colours, green, blue, red and yellow.
‘Now, Mr. Dawson, if I could impose on your attention for a few moments,’ Myles continued, his voice soft and soothing, his expression one of sincerity and reassurance. ‘You do recall my mentioning my promise to you regarding your granddaughter’s welfare?’
‘Which,’ Matthew retorted sharply, ‘I deem to be entirely worthless coming from someone such as yourself!’
‘I believe you’ve expressed those sentiments before, Mr. Dawson,’ Myles replied, totally unruffled at the insult. ‘They become rather tiresome with too much repetition.’ He held up a hand to forestall whatever further slur Matthew was about to cast in his direction. ‘Please contain yourself, if you’d be so kind. What you are about to observe will convince you I’m most certainly a man of my word.’ He snapped his fingers commandingly. ‘Mr. Tattoo, if you will! Step forward so that Mr. Dawson may study you in every detail.’
Matthew was about to demand an explanation, but, in spite of himself, felt a tinge of fear as Teddy came and stood in front of him, his expression as impassive as a sphinx. ‘Now, Mr. Dawson, you will agree Mr. Tattoo’s features are distinctive? Once seen, hardly likely to be forgotten? Certainly not by an intelligent, observant man such as yourself? Please be kind enough to concur. After all, this is in connection to the welfare of your granddaughter. Surely that deserves a response to my questions .’
Matthew didn’t know what it was all about, but hearing Lily mentioned yet again in connection with these odd goings-on, he decided it best that he cooperate, if only to find out what exactly all this had to do with her. He remained stony-faced as he circled Teddy, taking in the vivid images all over his chest, back and arms. He took another while studying Teddy’s unblinking face, thinking to himself that even if he wanted to, he’d never be able to forget this titan of a man with the physique of Hercules, and the body-paintings of a particularly bizarre art-gallery.
‘Well, Mr. Dawson?’ Myles all but purred when Matthew had completed his inspection.
‘I don’t know what this is all about,’ Matthew replied, still prepared to display a modicum of defiance. ‘But, yes, I agree. I wouldn’t have the slightest difficulty in recognising this muscle-bound minion of yours again.’
‘Excellent, Mr. Dawson. Now please seat yourself, if you will.’ Myles answered amicably, then did likewise himself in the opposite armchair. ‘You may proceed, Mr. Tattoo.’
Teddy nodded obediently, then went and stood in the centre of the room, facing Myles, his back to Matthew. He knelt and carefully placed the drinking-straws in an upright position on the carpet, two to the left, two to the right, with approximately twenty-four inches between either pair. He sat cross-legged beside them, commencing to chant softly to himself, closing his eyes in meditation.
Matthews watched sceptically. If they thought this mumbojumbo was supposed to impress him, they had another think coming. Why he was being subjected to the rigmarole was a mystery to him. What was the purpose of it? He suspected the straws remained upright with the assistance of some adhesive substance. It might possibly go down well at some children’s magic-show, but it certainly wasn’t deceiving him. Just as he was about to scoff derisively at the infantile display, Teddy began to slowly rise off the floor, still in a cross-legged sitting position. Matthew gaped.
Mid-way between floor and ceiling, Teddy ceased his chanting. Matthew couldn’t take his eyes off him. He strained to see the wires he knew had to be holding him in position, but stare as he did, he couldn’t see any. Then Teddy uncoiled, straightening himself so that now his feet pointed towards the ceiling, his outstretched hands hovering inches above the straws. Every single movement Teddy had engaged in, he’d kept his back to Matthew. He continued to do so as he placed his palms on both sets of straws, balancing on them as though on solid steel. The result of his position now was that his inverted face was clearly visible to Matthew.
Teddy’s eyes were glowing with a soft green light which he directed into Matthew’s irises. Matthew tried to close his lids, but found it impossible. He was being forced to watch whether or not he wanted to. Then Teddy started to slowly dissolve before his startled eyes. His tattooed body disappeared in sections from the feet downwards, until there was nothing left but his upturned, shaven head, with the soft green light radiating from his eyes into Matthew’s. Then it, too, became mist-like before vanishing altogether, leaving the four upright drinking-straws standing on their own in the centre of the room.
Matthew stood up and approached them. He’d forgotten that Myles was in the armchair, and gave a start at the sound of his voice. ‘You look a trifle pale, Mr. Dawson,’ Myles said, ‘don’t you feel well?’
Matthew looked at him in surprise. He felt strange, his head light. He didn’t feel ill, but as though something peculiar had happened inside his head which he couldn’t quite account for. Then, when he looked down again and was about to bring the drinking-straws to Myles’s attention, he found they had also vanished.
‘What is it, Mr Dawson? Would you like me to fetch the doctor?’
‘No, I’m – I’m fine.’ His finger was still pointing to where the drinking-straws had been. ‘That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’
‘And what would that have been, Mr. Dawson?’ Myles asked, looking at him, feigning puzzlement.
‘That – that man - -’, Matthew replied uncertainly, for some reason feeling more hesitant by the second, and beginning to doubt his own judgement. ‘The one who was here a minute ago.’
‘What man, Mr. Dawson? What did he look like?’
Matthew strove to recall his description, but the harder he tried, the more hazy the details became. Was he tall, medium or short -sized? Matthew couldn’t remember. What colour hair had he? Was he fat or thin? Nothing came back to enlighten Matthew’s bemused brain. In every other way, Matthew felt fine, but for the life of him he couldn’t get his brain to function properly to bring a clear picture of the man before his mind’s eye. Then he began to wonder if he’d been in the room at all, even though he was certain he had.
‘Difficult, isn’t it, Mr. Dawson?’ Myles broke into Matthews strivings. ‘Though surely now even a cynic such as yourself is convinced of your granddaughter’s future safety.’
Matthew looked at him vaguely. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.
‘Oh, come now, Mr. Dawson. Please don’t tell me the full implications of the demonstration have been lost on you. What has happened to you will also happen to your granddaughter when the ransom has been paid. Her recall slate for people’s faces and their physical descriptions will be wiped clean.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Myles sighed, by his demeanour giving the impression of a patient teacher endeavouring to instil a simple lesson in the mind of a particularly backward pupil. ‘Come, Mr. Dawson,’ he said rising from his armchair and making his way towards the bookcase. ‘Allow me to explain.’
Matthew watched once more as Myles made the necessary adjustments with the lamp brackets to revolve the bank of TV monitors into the bedroom. When they were in place, Myles switched on one of them and brought it into focus. ‘Here we are, Mr. Dawson. A friend of yours, I understand.’
Myles looked at the monitor, convinced this fiend was taking pleasure in making him watch Lily again. Why? He’d already done what had been asked of him. But it wasn’t Lily. The screen showed a gymnasium in which some enormous, muscular man with tattoos all over his chest and arms was engaged in weightlifting. He looked strong enough to wrestle a lion and emerge victorious. But what h
ad that got to do with him? He’d never seen the man before in his life. Something he wasn’t long conveying to his captor.
‘Are you sure, Mr. Dawson?’ Myles smiled. ‘I was of the opinion you wouldn’t have the slightest difficulty recognising him again. You told me so yourself.’
‘What are you babbling about now?’ Matthew said angrily, feeling all his old contempt for his jailor return. ‘I told you I never saw him before in my life!’
‘Splendid, Mr. Dawson. Excellent altogether. Now perhaps I can put your mind entirely at ease.’ Myles returned the bank of monitors back behind the wall, engaging the locking mechanism without allowing Matthew a clear view of how he’d done so, then returned to his armchair, indicating to Matthew to follow his example.
‘I prefer to stand,’ Matthews snapped, before adding sarcastically. ‘If that’s all right with you.’
‘As you wish, Mr. Dawson, as you wish. I won’t delay you much longer. Then you can return to your book. That man you claim you never laid eyes on before was in here not fifteen minutes ago. He’s one of my most versatile employees, proficient in so many skills it’s difficult to know where to begin. We could be here all night if I were to recount them all.’
‘Get on with it!’ Matthew growled impatiently.
‘Well, the fact is, you spent five minutes taking in every detail of his appearance. You were also a spectator to his amazing talents, yet you couldn’t remember ever seeing him before when I showed you his image on the monitor. What do you deduce from all that, Mr. Dawson?’
‘I’ve been brainwashed,’ Matthew said grimly, biting his lip in frustration.
‘Bravo, Mr. Dawson. You have indeed. And will be again before we take leave of each other. As will your darling granddaughter. Now you understand everything. So I trust you’ll be more at ease now for the duration of your stay.’
‘Will there be after-effects? Will she suffer any long-term memory loss?’ Matthew asked anxiously. ‘She’s only a child.’
‘None whatsoever. But as far as my employees and myself are concerned, neither of you will have the slightest recollection of what any of us looked like. It’s a much more civilized method of dealing with awkward situations.’ Myles smiled broadly at the simplicity of it all. ‘Considering the alternative, Mr. Dawson, it’s fortunate for both of you I employ such gifted people.’ He arose from the armchair gracefully. ‘But enough about my humanitarianism for the moment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some pressing matters to attend to.’