by carl ashmore
Becky felt relieved. She had no desire to dress up as a king prawn, no matter what the occasion. ‘And where is the party?’ she asked. ‘Do you hire a town hall or something?’
‘Oh, I never mentioned that side of things, did I?’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘No, we don’t hire anywhere. Each year the GITT entertainments committee constructs a completely new venue exclusively for the Christmas Party. And this year, from what I’ve been told, they’ve done a fantastic job in what is undoubtedly a challenging remit.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Because the party’s taking place in the Indian Ocean …’
Becky looked gobsmacked. ‘In the Indian Ocean? As in … underwater?’
‘Well it is called the ‘Enchantment Beneath the Sea Dance.’ So, yes, it’s happening underwater. Six hundred fathoms down, to be precise.’
Becky couldn’t believe her ears. ‘But - but what happens if you’re discovered?’
‘By what exactly?’
‘I don’t know … a submarine?’
Uncle Percy gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘I doubt that’ll happen. It’s happening forty seven thousand years ago, during the middle Paleolithic era… I don’t think Neanderthal man had submarines.’
Chapter 4
Hologramophone Alone
A short while later, Becky opened her bedroom door. The air was perfumed with the sweet smell of paper-white daffodils. She scanned the room quickly and knew at once Maria had been busy. Not only was it spotlessly clean, but there were all kinds of decorative touches that could only have come from her: a hand-carved olive wood manger scene had been placed on the chest of drawers; a holly wreath decked with four red candles lay flat on the bedside table; eight nutcrackers in the form of wooden soldiers lined the window ledge; a large Christmas tree swathed in tinsel filled the corner of the room.
As her gaze found the wardrobe, she saw three very different outfits hanging from the doorframe. She was pleasantly surprised. Unusually for Uncle Percy, each one seemed quite normal and perfectly wearable. The first was the same leather trousers, loose-fitting cotton shirt and shin-high boots she’d worn recently to the Caribbean; the second, a brand new pair of black jeans and fitted shirt; the third, an ankle length silk dress in chestnut-brown with short sleeves and a high neckline.
She walked over and stared at each in turn, before looping the dress from its hanger. The fabric felt so light to the touch, so delicate, like wafer-thin chocolate. Her hand skimmed over it, top to bottom, barely daring to brush the material with her fingers for fear of staining it somehow. She had never worn a dress prior to the stupid one she’d been forced to wear to Victorian Oxford, but this was different. This was the most gorgeous dress she’d ever seen.
However, just as she considered wearing it to the party, an image formed in her head. Joe was laughing hysterically and waggling a stumpy finger at her. She knew there and then it wasn’t an option. He would be unbearable and she’d have to strangle him with a clump of seaweed.
She returned the dress carefully to its hanger and detached the jeans and shirt. She held them up to the light and gave a satisfied smile.
Her decision had been made.
Nevertheless, as she began to unpack her case, her thoughts drifted back to the dress, and she knew if invited to next year’s party, her decision would be very different. She would choose the dress. And if Joe teased her, then she would just have to find something else to strangle him with.
Just then, the door creaked open. A peculiar moan rattled the air. She glanced over as a giant rubber shark’s head inched into view, its right eyeball dangling down on a coil of spring.
Joe was grinning at her from inside the shark’s mouth. ‘What do you think?’ He flicked the eyeball, which bobbed wildly from side to side. ‘I’m a zombie shark…’
Becky shivered. It had been only six weeks since they had survived a real zombie shark attack and she didn’t find the costume even slightly amusing. ‘Really?’ she replied sarcastically. ‘I never would’ve guessed.’
‘Uncle Percy had it specially made.’ Joe jumped up and down making the enormous jaws flap open and shut. ‘Isn’t it the best costume ever?’
‘No,’ Becky replied bluntly, ‘but it may be the daftest.’
Joe gave a dismissive snort. ‘You’re only jealous.’
‘Jealous? Because you look like a prat?’
The words had only just left her mouth when a shrill buzz rang out from a tiny black box on the windowsill. A light on the top of the box flashed green.
Joe looked at the box. ‘What’s that?’
‘Dunno,’ Becky replied. ‘It’s not been there before.’ She approached the box and picked it up. Rotating it in her fingers, she saw an LED display that read:
Incoming Hologramophonic message:
Recipient: Becky Mellor
Sender: Percy Halifax
Location: Rolls Royce Silver Ghost
Becky looked blankly at Joe. ‘What’s a Hologramophonic message?’
‘Press the button and find out.’
Setting the box back on the sill, Becky pressed it and stepped back. At once, three lasers shot out and converged in the centre of the room, forming a life-sized three-dimensional image. She gasped with astonishment.
Uncle Percy was staring back at them, a tweed flat cap containing his long silver hair from what appeared to be a very stiff wind. His arms were extended before him, gripping a steering wheel that was just out of sight. Behind him, the countryside blurred past in a silvery haze. ‘Good afternoon, Becky.’
Stunned, Becky said, ‘Err, afternoon.’
‘And Joe, I see.’ Uncle Percy gave a hearty laugh. ‘Your costume looks fantastic. Actually, there’s a prize for the best fancy dress tonight. I think you’ve got a shot at beating Berwin Babbage and I hear he’s coming as a shoal of plankton.’
‘Becky thinks I look like a prat.’
‘A sprat?’ Uncle Percy replied, clearly struggling to hear Joe’s voice over the rattling wind. ‘Well, that’s still in keeping with the aquatic theme.’
‘Uncle Percy, what’s going on?’ Becky asked. ‘What’s this box-thingy?’
‘Oh, it’s a Hologramophone,’ Uncle Percy shouted back. ‘Very old technology, but quite handy. It’s better than your conventional smart phone, don’t you think?’
‘I guess,’ Becky replied.
‘So it’s a 3D videophone?’ Joe asked.
‘That’s precisely what it is, Joe.’
Joe nodded his approval. ‘Cool.’
‘I hope you don’t mind me installing one in your bedroom, Becky,’ Uncle Percy said, ‘but I’ve fitted them in all of the rooms at the Hall as an added security device. I’m sure you understand.’
Becky still looked stunned to be having the conversation. ‘It’s your house.’
‘So where are you?’ Joe asked.
‘I’m on my way to see Miriam Potts, one of the GITT crowd.’ A dark look crossed Uncle Percy’s face. ‘Apparently, she needs to see me rather urgently. But I’ll be back in plenty of time for the party. We’re leaving at seven so if you could be ready for then.’
‘Course,’ Becky replied.
‘Ta ta for now then…’ And with that, Uncle Percy’s hologram vanished.
Becky glanced at Joe, intrigued. ‘I wonder what she wants to see him about?’
‘Dunno,’ Joe shrugged.
‘You don’t think it’s to do with Emerson Drake, do you?
‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ Joe replied sourly. ‘He’s probably kidnapped Santa…’
*
Becky managed to banish all thoughts of Drake from her mind, and she and Joe shared an enjoyable, bicker-free few hours together. After joining Maria for some Kinderpunsch (an apple and grape fruit drink), they wandered to the stables to visit Pegasus and Gump.
To Becky’s surprise, Pegasus had grown significantly since the last time they had seen each other; now as tall as Becky, Pegasus’ snow-white white wings were abou
t three feet long and fully feathered. Gump, too, had grown and was approximately the size of a garden shed.
Thick flakes of snow tumbled from dull-white cloud as Becky led Pegasus along the path that bordered the lake, which was frozen solid. She watched with amusement as Joe clambered on to Gump’s back, tucked his legs beneath the fan-like head plate and rode him like an elephant. Gump mooed happily, every now and again glancing back at Pegasus as if the whole thing were some strange prehistoric courtship ritual.
All the while, Becky couldn’t stop thinking about that night’s party. Finally, she would get to meet the travelling community and, more importantly, have the opportunity to thank them for what she knew was their extensive search for her dad. Each Monday morning, as regular as clockwork, Uncle Percy emailed her The Travelling Times, the GITT newspaper, which was invariably jam-packed with reports of places and timelines that had already been investigated and eliminated from their investigations. And each time she felt disheartened at their lack of success, she would recall Uncle Percy’s words.
‘Remember, Becky, your father is a hugely intelligent man. I don’t care where or when Drake has imprisoned him. He will find a way of letting us know where he is. It could be the smallest thing – a scrawl on a wall that’s out of time, a tactical whisper to a fellow prisoner - but one way or another, I believe your father will find a way to get a message to us. You just have to look for the signs and have faith…’
And she did have faith.
She really did.
After an hour or so, Becky and Joe left Pegasus and Gump and strolled over to the tree house to see Will. To their disappointment, he wasn’t there. They combed the grounds, but couldn’t find him anywhere. Eventually they returned to the Hall and joined Maria and Jacob for afternoon tea, during which Becky asked if either of them knew Will’s whereabouts. At once, Maria became twitchy and mumbled something in German, before making her apologies and scuttling off upstairs to change the bedding, leaving Jacob to answer in what could only be described as a cheerless manner.
‘I truly don’t know, child.’
‘Well how long’s he been gone?’ Joe pressed.
‘Five days,’ Jacob replied flatly. ‘And if you wish to discuss the matter further, you must see your uncle…’ Then he promptly stood and left to repair a wind-damaged fence in the archery field.
It was six o’ clock when Becky retired to her bedroom; the excitement she’d felt earlier had been dulled by the niggling feeling something wasn’t quite right. After all, Uncle Percy had rushed off on their first afternoon together and Will was still nowhere to be seen. Trying to push these concerns to the back of her mind, she showered, dried her hair and got dressed. At five to seven, she looked in the mirror. The jeans and shirt were a perfect fit. Satisfied she didn’t look too bad, she heard the door creak open.
‘Are you ready?’ Joe said, beaming from inside the shark outfit. He scanned Becky from top to bottom and said, ‘Woooow! ’
Surprised, Becky was about to thank him for the compliment when he followed it with, ‘You look boring!’ She was about to snap at him when his expression turned grave. ‘Uncle Percy’s back. I heard him talking to Jacob downstairs.’
‘What were they saying?’ Becky asked quickly.
‘I’m not sure,’ Joe replied. ‘They were talking really quietly, whispers really. I’m pretty sure Uncle Percy mentioned ‘Berlin’, but I can’t be certain.’
‘Berlin?’ Becky repeated. ‘What about Berlin?’
‘Dunno,’ Joe replied. ‘But I do know Jacob sounded really worried after that, scared even. Whatever it was freaked him out.’ He shook his head, the shark’s pendulous eye swung left and right. ‘Summat weird’s definitely going on, Becks. That’s for sure.’
Becky couldn’t help but agree.
*
As the downstairs clock chimed seven, Becky and Joe descended the stairs to see a beaming Uncle Percy standing at the bottom, dressed in a nineteenth century dress coat with dazzling golden epaulettes and a wide bicorn hat pinned with a spectacular diamond chelengk. His right jacket sleeve was empty and pinned against his chest.
Becky thought if he was troubled in any way he certainly didn’t show it.
‘Good evening,’ Uncle Percy said in a loud, cheery voice.
‘Hiya,’ Becky replied, rather mutely.
‘Evening,’ Joe said. ‘You look great. Who’re you supposed to be?’
‘I’ll give you a clue.’ Uncle Percy nodded at the empty sleeve. ‘He’s an ‘armless chap!’
Joe shrugged. ‘No idea.’
Uncle Percy frowned. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’
‘No,’ Joe replied. ‘I mean, I’m guessing you’re a sailor but – ’
‘I’m Lord Horatio Nelson,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘The most decorated sailor in British naval history.’
Joe looked unimpressed. ‘Oh, that bloke on the pole in London, the one covered in pigeon dung?’
‘Well – err –yes,’ Uncle Percy replied with a sigh. ‘And that dung-covered pole is Nelson’s Column.’
‘Then maybe if you covered yourself in dung you’d look more like him.’ Joe grinned mischievously.
Uncle Percy was about to reprimand him when Becky cut in.
‘Where’s Will?’
Uncle Percy’s face darkened; he opened his mouth as if to reply and then closed it again. ‘He’s not here.’
‘We know that,’ Becky continued. ‘Where is he?’
‘We can discuss that later,’ Uncle Percy said in a low voice. ‘We have a party to attend and –’
Becky stood firm. ‘I’m sorry but I think we should discuss it now. Something’s going on and I think we’ve a right to know.’
Uncle Percy gave a heavy sigh and said, ‘He’s travelling.’
‘Time travelling?’ Becky said, shocked. ‘Without you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where’s he gone?’ Joe asked immediately. ‘Is it to do with Drake?’
‘Yes,’ Uncle Percy replied hesitantly, ‘but there are some things I’d sooner you didn’t know about, at least not until I have more concrete information.’
Becky shot him a steely look. ‘We can handle it,’ she insisted. ‘Whatever it is … we’re not little kids. And we’ve been through too much for you to treat us as if we were. Is it to do with dad?’ Her voice fractured slightly but she continued anyway. ‘Is he dead?’
‘No, Becky,’ Uncle Percy replied sincerely. ‘It’s got nothing to do with your father. It concerns Edgar …’
Becky took a sharp intake of breath. Edgar was the kindly vegetarian Minotaur they had met in the summer on their quest for the Golden Fleece. ‘What about him?’
‘About a week ago Cornelius Frobisher, a fellow traveller, contacted me - he’d just got back from the year 1633BC and had unwittingly come across an uncharted island in the Black Sea. Anyway, he spent the day exploring it and discovered a small, deserted settlement … a Minotaur settlement.’
‘It was Edgar’s brothers’ island?’ Becky whispered.
‘That’s right,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Anyway, the settlement had been ransacked. He investigated the immediate vicinity and found – ’ The words stuck in his throat.
‘Found what?’ Joe prompted.
‘He found two Minotaur corpses,’ Uncle Percy admitted miserably. ‘Gergo and Gergan. They’d been shot dead…’
Chapter 5
Betty the Deville you know
‘They’d been shot dead...’
The words scorched the air. Becky’s mouth went dry. Gergo and Gergan, Edgar’s older brothers, had been their saviours on the island of Kera. Without them, Uncle Percy and Will would have been executed by firing squad, she and Joe would have been prisoners, and Drake would have acquired the first of the Eden Relics, The Golden Fleece. But as she processed Uncle Percy’s words, she recalled what happened when the Associates had fired on Edgar.
‘But … Minotaurs can’t be killed,’ she said quietly. ‘Edgar
was shot loads of times; the bullets didn’t break his skin. It’s like Edgar said, “Minotaurs can’t be harmed by human weapon.”’
Uncle Percy shook his head. ‘I’m afraid Edgar was wrong. It seems that whereas Minotaurs’ skin is extraordinarily hard, so hard most bullets can’t penetrate it, it is possible if the bullets are molded from a certain metal.’
‘Which metal?’ Joe asked.
‘The metal Edgar’s grandfather used to make his dagger – the same dagger I used to kill the Hydra. To cut a long story short, I believe Drake returned to the Red Caves, removed the dagger from the Hydra’s carcass, melted it down and made bullets out of it. Then, sometime after, he tracked down Gergo and Gergan, and the rest is history.’
‘He killed them because they helped us,’ Becky said in a whisper. ‘He wanted revenge.’
‘It’s the oldest motive in the world,’ Uncle Percy replied glumly.
Becky’s blood turned cold. ‘Then it’s our fault?’
‘Don’t do that to yourself,’ Uncle Percy replied firmly. ‘We couldn’t have known.’
Joe’s face grew determined. ‘We could go back in time and try and stop it.’
‘I’m afraid Will and I have already tried that, Joe, quite a few times. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what happened.’
‘The Omega Effect,’ Becky offered.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘We couldn’t do a thing to prevent it. We couldn’t even get close to the time it happened. Not by weeks.’ He struggled to speak his next words. ‘It soon became clear that fate had determined they were to die, no matter what we did, no matter how we tried to intervene.’
‘What about Edgar?’ Becky asked, her voice aquiver. ‘Does he know?’
Uncle Percy’s gaze fell to the floor. ‘Yes. Judging from the evidence we found at the scene after the Omega Effect had lifted, Edgar was staying with his brothers when the settlement was attacked.’
‘Then what happened to him?’ Becky asked.
‘I think they took him.’