by Martyn Ford
Before Tim could process what she had told him, his cell phone vibrated on his desk.
It was Dee. “Hi,” Tim said, noticing how shocked he still sounded.
“You all right?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
“Something…weird. I think it’s best if we speak in person. Can you come over?”
Living just across town, Dee arrived fairly quickly. Tim then explained what had happened, from start to finish.
Dee laughed when he’d finished. “Wow,” she said, sitting cross-legged on his bed. “And this TRAD group, you say it’s one of the most advanced espionage agencies in the world?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“Exactly,” Tim said.
“And they’re here now?” She gestured around the room. “Watching the hotel?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you think this ‘amazing’ thing is at Fredric’s facility?”
“I dunno,” Tim said. “But when I go, I want you to come too.”
“You do get yourself in some strange situations.”
“Alas,” Phil put in, “the common denominator does seem to be you, Timothy.”
“I didn’t want this to happen.”
“You sure?” Dee asked. “Hey, since whoever stole your Imagination Box probably killed their pawn, the crossing guard, do you think that they’ll kill you too when they’re finished?” Her voice flashed with what sounded like excitement.
Tim frowned. “Well, now I do.”
“Seems like it’s out of your hands, so best of luck with that. How far are you on Squirrel Boarder? It is super fun town.”
“Barely played it.”
“You know, I actually lost this earlier.” Dee pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “Mum was quite upset—even though she says I’m on it too much.”
“Where was it?” The normality of this conversation felt weird for Tim, but was quite typical for Dee. Nothing seemed to faze her.
“In the park, on a bench. Luckily, I had phone finder installed, thank goodness.”
“Phone finder?”
“That app where you can use maps online to find it, if you leave it on the bus, or on the train, or, say, in the park.”
Tim picked up the reader hat and turned it over so the small white letters TIB stared back at him. “Sugar plum turnips indeed,” he said, his mind clicking into place.
He pulled the reader onto his head and swooped to his laptop. The monkey scurried along the carpet behind him, jumped onto the arm of the swivel chair, and onto the desk, spinning as he landed.
“What are we up to now?” Phil asked. “Shark-attack videos on YouTube? Well, good heavens, why not?”
“No. Do you remember at Crowfield House when I made those robo-bees appear in the Imagination Box?”
“Fondly.”
“I did it from the basement, right? I was a long way away from the device itself. I can imagine things remotely.”
“You have my attention, Timothy—continue.”
“Well, what if I created a tracking device? Something that would appear inside the box and transmit its location. Then we’d know where it was.”
“Yes, I am following. But, pray tell, why would you do this?”
“A, I promised Eisenstone I would get the box back safely, and B, whoever did this—they’re murderers. We need to know who they are. Finding out where the box is, that’s surely a start. It’ll lead us right to this Mind Surfer person. Then we can tell TRAD, and they can go and arrest the culprits. Done. Home in time for supper.”
“Then you can get the Imagination Box back,” Dee said.
“Yes.”
“And create fine presents for me?” Phil added.
“Maybe.”
“A miniature motor-bicycle? Maybe one that hovers? Would that not just be the most fabulous thing?”
“And what about Samantha Locke?” Dee asked.
“I submit we put her in the ‘thoroughly suspicious’ category,” Phil said. “Duct-taping a defenseless little monkey? Frankly outrageous.”
“I dunno. First things first…” Wearing the reader, Tim closed his eyes and imagined a tracking device. After a few moments, he nodded. “There, it’s done. Now, if we just install the finder app on the ol’ computer, we can get a location.”
“Your jib, Timothy, I do appreciate the manner in which it has been cut. Fine work.”
“Not just a pretty face…”
Tim clicked on his laptop, downloaded the software, and entered the details of his freshly cooked tracking device into the appropriate boxes. He had imagined it would behave just like a phone, sending its location straight to the computer. When the loading bar sped across the bottom of the screen and a new window popped open with a map, he realized it was working.
Dee came and stood behind him, leaning over.
“Look,” Tim said. Phil scuttled onto the laptop’s keyboard, kneeling on the space bar and staring up. “It’s triangulating it with satellites.”
“Triangulating,” Phil repeated in a fascinated monotone. “What is this?”
“Like…finding it, or whatever…Right, it’s finished.”
The screen flashed, and the map, which had been an image of the whole of Great Britain, expanded as they zoomed in. Tim felt proud and excited as it magnified farther and farther until it arrived on a street in London. The small blue dot indicating the Imagination Box’s location was slowly pulsing on the corner of a road.
“Where is that?” Dee asked.
“Somewhere in London. It’s at…” Tim scrolled out a little, getting a wider look at the map, growing desperate to know exactly where the stolen device was. “It’s at…the Diamond Building?”
“Isn’t that…?”
“Yes,” Tim said, frowning, confused. “That’s TRAD’s headquarters.”
The next morning, Fredric rang Tim, as he’d said he would, and invited him to his office in London. The latest revelation made Tim jump at the chance. He was curious to hear Fredric’s view on the situation. However, as over the past couple of days everyone had been telling him he couldn’t trust anyone else, Tim said he wanted Dee to come too.
“Sure,” Fredric replied. “The more the merrier, as you guys might say.”
Tim had felt totally trapped by his discovery that the Imagination Box was at the Diamond Building. Was someone at TRAD responsible for all of this? Was this what Samantha had meant when she said he shouldn’t trust any of them? He’d stayed awake most of the night, unsure who to tell, unsure what to do. Had Eisenstone unwittingly walked him directly into the hands of those who stole the box?
Elisa gave swift approval for his trip to see Fredric. In fact, she was typing away at reception and barely looked up.
“Yes,” she’d said, waving her hand. “That sounds fine.”
It had surprised Tim how little she was bothered about all this recent trouble. She didn’t seem to care in the least about TRAD’s agents crawling all over the hotel. He assumed that she was just extra busy with work. However, her increased apathy, although perhaps marginally preferable to disappointment, did fill him with an odd sadness.
Having popped home to grab some more clothes after staying the night, Dee arrived ten minutes before they were due to leave.
“So, what exactly is the plan?” she asked as she strode into his room, unraveling her scarf and perching herself on the edge of his bed. Without another word, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and looked down at it.
“We’ve got to go speak with Fredric Wilde.”
“Why? Do you just want to see his super-duper exciting facility?” she asked sarcastically.
“No. I mean, maybe a bit. But Fredric said he knows something. He can help.”
Again, Tim remembered Eisenstone’s stoic disappointment. Tim had to put right an ever-growing list of wrongs.
“So, essentially,” Dee said with a deep breath, “to find your box, we’ve got to stop an unknown seri
al killer, one that possibly works for a secret, powerful government organization? And they might be controlling people’s minds too?”
“That’s it.”
“Let me just finish this level.”
Tim rolled his eyes, but remained patient. He peered down and saw that she was nearing quite a high score on Squirrel Boarder. Phil too took an interest in the screen.
“What is the purpose of this game?” the monkey asked, glancing between Dee’s face and the IcoRama.
“You’ve got to snowboard down the hill, avoid the spikes, and not let the robot penguins catch you.”
“I find this scenario quite unlikely.”
“If you land three jumps in a row, you get an EMP grenade,” Dee added.
“What, pray tell, is an EMP grenade?” Phil asked.
“Electromagnetic pulse,” Dee said. “It disables electronic devices.”
“Such as malevolent, cybernetic penguins?” the monkey said.
“Exactly.” Dee finished with three stars, put her phone in her pocket, then sat up straight. “Okay, Captain Tim, what were you saying?”
“We’ve got to—”
“Oh yeah, that. Will it take long?” she asked. “I have to cut the grass and clean out the shed at home, to milk some cash out of Mum. You know that outrageously cool leather jacket I showed you? Well, I’ve got to save up for it, like a normal person… thanks to someone’s reckless behavior.”
“Then help me get the box back, expose the Mind Surfer, and fix this.”
“Timothy has promised to provide me with a miniature motor-bicycle, so I am sure he would be happy to create any of your desires,” Phil added.
Dee nodded at the monkey, then turned back to Tim. “No sarcastic, superior comments about materialism,” she said, pointing. “No resistance—you’ll make me anything I want?”
“Yes, fine, deal,” Tim said.
“All right.” She stood. “I’m in.”
—
Fredric sent an incredibly posh, stretched car to collect them. It had TVs and even a fridge in the back. His office was on the twenty-ninth floor of a tall, cube-shaped building with WILDE TECH written in a fun, almost childish font over the door. Inside, the carpets were bright primary colors—yellows and reds. All the furniture was modern, ergonomic—curved glass tables and even beanbags in some of the conference rooms. It seemed a pretty cool place to work.
Upstairs, Tim saw the expansive view of London. A trio of pigeons, black against the clouds, flew across the sky. Below, far away, traffic gently flowed, the commuters mere dots.
“My word,” Phil said, leaping out and running up one of the frames. “What a fine vista.”
“Thanks, man,” Fredric said, leaning on the glass.
The walls were decorated with various pieces of art and a couple of photographs mounted on canvas. One painting was a red Chinese-style dragon, with the words “On the shoulders of giants” written beneath. Tim didn’t really know what it meant.
On the opposite wall was a wide photograph of a sleek sports car.
“The Firestone Turbo,” Fredric said, noticing Tim’s gaze. He stepped to the framed image. “I have quite a collection of cars myself, but they only made three of these bad boys.” He sighed. “It’s funny how the one thing you can’t buy is the one thing you want most.”
“Your business,” Dee said, strolling along the floor-to-ceiling window, “seems to make lots of money.” She gestured at the expensive decor.
“We got a lot of fingers in a lot of pies.” Fredric nodded. “And many of those pies are filled with tons of dough.” He perched himself on the edge of his long, polished desk. “Gum?” he asked, holding out a light pink packet. Dee took some.
Fredric was wearing a thin green hoodie, jeans, and sneakers—all very casual except for, Tim noticed, the glistening watch that he saw when Fredric rolled up his sleeve.
“I got something I want to tell you guys,” Fredric said. “But…I mean, this has got to stay absolutely confidential. This is like a super-big deal. You’ve got to promise to keep it secret.”
“All right.” Tim was getting pretty used to this kind of thing.
“And, Phil, Dee, you must not repeat this to a soul.”
“Heavens,” the monkey sighed. “Who would believe me anyhow?”
Dee gestured a zip across her mouth.
“Good. Now, how best to put this…It’s about TRAD,” he went on. “I’ve been associated with the agency awhile now, and every time I visit the Diamond Building I notice there are loads of places I’m not allowed to go. The only person who has ultimate clearance is Harriet Goffe. Otherwise it’s secrets at every turn. I understand discretion, but this is another level. Anyway, to cut a long story short…I’ve done some digging and I think the people who stole your Imagination Box might work for TRAD.”
Tim looked at the floor and considered for a moment the best response. Of course, he’d been wondering as much himself. “What makes you think that?” He tested the water.
“It’s a hunch, man.” Fredric shrugged. “Those guys are shadier than the night. They operate above the law. I think they killed that crossing guard to cover it up. Hell, the box might even be at the Diamond Building. We just need to find out why, and then find a way to prove it.”
Tim saw that Fredric was stressed. He’d seen that expression on Elisa’s face countless times. He was being worn thin. Fredric stepped away from the desk and walked silently to the window, where he placed his hand on the frame, and hung his head. Tim knew that Fredric was absolutely right to be suspicious of TRAD, and now that they both wanted the same thing—to find his box and expose the culprits—he decided to trust him.
Dee and Tim made eye contact, and she gave him a quick nod.
“You’re right,” Tim said.
Fredric turned. “About what?”
“The box is at the Diamond Building.”
“How do you know?”
“I can show you.” Tim stood and stepped round to the computer. True to his word, he loaded the map, and the blue dot, almost breathing, sat in the middle of the square that marked the Diamond Building. Fredric leaned over, clearly impressed.
“A tracking device,” he said. “That is super clever, man.”
“There’s more,” Tim went on. “A woman, from TV, Samantha Locke… she broke into my room.”
“Yeah, TRAD has arrested her, but they’ll let her go in good time. Too high-profile.”
“Well, she told me that it was all connected, that I shouldn’t trust them.”
“Hmm.” Fredric raised his eyebrows and pointed to his computer. “That sounds like reasonable advice to me. But she was probably just looking for a story. Wouldn’t tell her too much if I were you.”
“So…what’s the next move?”
“Well,” Fredric said, standing up straight, tapping the wood with his knuckle. “If the culprits are here in London, perhaps it would be best if we weren’t. I wanna take you guys somewhere awesome.”
Fredric reached inside his pocket and removed a small plastic key fob, the kind used to lock cars remotely. Then he strode toward a wall on the far side of the office. As he got close to it, he clicked the button and the bricks parted in the middle with a loud hiss, revealing a secret room.
After exchanging a short glance, they followed. The space was small, and lit like a hospital ward. There was nothing inside apart from four large red circles painted on the floor and four waist-high pedestals in the center of the room. On top of each of the small stands was a light blue sphere, about the size of a golf ball.
“Gate on,” Fredric said, stepping onto one of the marks. The spheres, responding to his voice, began to float above their holders. This was some expensive, high-tech stuff. Tim was impressed.
“What is this?” Dee asked, staring at one of the levitating balls, her mouth open in wonder.
“It’s a quantum-particle-transmitting…something or other.” Fredric waved his hand. “I forget the technical name. It�
��s a teleporter, essentially.”
Tim was wary of the technology, having seen Clarice Crowfield destroyed in such a machine. “Does…does it work?”
“Course it works,” Fredric said, noticing Tim’s nerves. “This is Wilde Tech. This wasn’t built by some mad scientist in a secret, gloomy lab. Although Professor Whitelock’s work certainly contributed to this latest design.”
“Where does it go?” Tim asked.
“My underground complex that I mentioned before. It’s great—you’re gonna love it. Very simple,” he said, holding one of the floating blue balls. “You press the button on the side, and every particle you’re made of—blood, bone, skin—will be completely destroyed, removed, as it were, from the universe. You’ll then be re-created perfectly at the other end. Isn’t the future beautiful?”
“Does it hurt?” Dee asked. Tim could tell she was itching to have a go, despite that gruesome explanation of the process.
“Not even slightly.”
“And it’s completely safe?” Tim added, his heart picking up a little.
“Nothing is completely safe, Tim.”
“I’m not sure,” he said, stepping into another circle.
“Fine.” Fredric shrugged, blowing a pink bubble that popped loudly. “But I’m going.”
And, with a click and the shortest whipping sound, Fredric was gone. The blue sphere floated back down onto the platform.
Dee was smiling. “Maybe,” Tim said, “we shouldn’t—”
But before he could finish, Dee had pressed hers and disappeared in a blink, the faintest suggestion of dust where she’d been.
Now alone except for Phil, who was sitting in his top pocket, Tim sighed.
“I respect your reluctance,” the monkey said. “Knowing when to say no is a crucial trait to have.” Tim reached out and placed his hand on the hovering sphere. “Or just ignore me,” Phil added. “That’s fine too.”
Tim swallowed his fear and rubbed his thumb down the cool metal until he found the small recessed switch. Oddly, he closed his eyes and even felt tempted to hold his nose as though he were about to plunge into water. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Shall I do it?”