Neither the Doctor nor Adam laughed.
‘I told you nobody was going to find mouldy dogs funny,’ Gogo remarked.
‘We’ve got to be more edgy or we’ll get stale,’ Pozzo insisted.
The parrots flew up to the crow’s nest, squabbling about new directions for their act.
‘We must go to Tibidabo,’ announced the Doctor, ‘armed guards or not. If we’re to switch off the alarm, that is where we must go.’
‘But how will that help Mum?’ said Adam, unable to hide his frustration.
‘I have a theory about that. I’ll explain on the way,’ the Doctor replied mysteriously.
‘And how will we get past the guards with guns?’
But his father had already disappeared below deck. Adam was left alone. He thought sadly about his mother, possibly so close, but whom he might now never see if things went wrong in the woods. He felt exhausted – so much had already happened today. He slumped down on a chair and covered his face, only to be interrupted by a wet tongue licking his hands.
‘Sniffage! You’re back!’
Sniffage was indeed back and as cheerful as ever, with a large stick in his mouth.
‘What took you so long?’
‘Yeah! Got distracted by some dead things. Whatcha doing?’
The spaniel stood in front of him, wagging his tail for all it was worth.
‘I was feeling sad,’ admitted Adam.
‘Sad?’ said Sniffage. ‘Don’t do that! Not when there’s sticks to throw!’ And he helpfully dropped his stick at Adam’s feet. ‘Yeah! Yeah! Throw it!’
Reluctantly, Adam picked up the stick and threw it for Sniffage. The dog was right – he did feel better.
But not for long.
Adam turned towards the harbour and saw what looked like the entire Buenos Sueños Police Force, headed by Chief Grivas, descending on to the dock. The Chief of Police stomped up to the gangplank, flanked by all his officers.
Adam gulped.
The noise of their arrival brought the Doctor swiftly back up on deck.
‘This young hooligan is going to pay us 1,920 pesos or he is going to prison for a long time,’ Chief Grivas informed him. ‘Two more offences have been committed: “Escaping without permission” and “Riding a bike through a house during mealtimes.” Both are criminal acts according to the Buenos Sueños Crime and Punishment Code.’
The Doctor rushed across to Adam and stuffed some notes in his hand.
‘That’s almost all our money,’ he said furiously. ‘Whatever you do, don’t commit any more crimes.’
So, beneath the burning sun and under the harsh, watchful eyes of the Buenos Sueños Police Force, Adam walked down the gangplank, stood on the large red spot and handed over the money. Chief Grivas did not seem particularly happy to receive it. It was obvious that he would have preferred to put the boy in jail. As Adam was about to move off the spot, Grivas grabbed his elbow.
‘Not so fast. We are going to require you to hand over your wild dog.’
‘Sniffage!’ said Adam. ‘But Sniffage isn’t wild.’
‘My officer says he’s wild, and if my officer says something is true, then it is,’ said Chief Grivas. ‘Now hand him over to us or we will board your ship and shoot him on sight.’
‘What will happen to him?’
‘He will be taken to the Buenos Sueños Dog Pound.’
‘Can I visit him?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Will someone throw sticks for him?’
‘They will not,’ said Chief Grivas. ‘My officers have more important things to do than throw sticks for dogs.’
‘But he’ll be miserable.’
‘You have ten seconds to hand over your dog,’ Chief Grivas growled menacingly. ‘Or he dies.’
Adam looked up at the Doctor. His eyes were blazing, but he said nothing. Sniffage was standing next to him on the gangplank, wagging his tail. Adam had no option. He had to do it.
He whistled and Sniffage trotted down towards him trustingly.
‘Yeah! Yeah! Let’s hope these policemen go soon. There’s still time for some stick throwing. Yeah!’
Sniffage licked Adam’s hand. At a signal from the Chief an Officer Grivas stepped forward and grabbed the dog roughly and looped a lead over his head.
‘Hey! Hey! Whatcha doing? I don’t need a lead! I need to be able to investigate dead things! Take it off! Yeah!’
But to Officer Grivas, Sniffage was just another dog barking. He jolted the lead hard.
‘Ow! That hurt!’
‘You’re being too rough,’ protested Adam.
But with every bark, the policeman tugged the lead harder until, eventually, Sniffage was subdued and silent. Officer Grivas led him away. Adam could hardly bear to watch. The dog’s head hung low and his tail was lifeless and limp.
‘The sooner you leave Buenos Sueños the better,’ observed Chief Grivas, tossing his cigar carelessly on to the dock. ‘Before you lose any more of your friends.’
‘That’s litter,’ said Adam, pointing at the cigar stub. ‘Why isn’t anyone arresting you?’
‘Arresting me?’ repeated Grivas. ‘You have a very funny sense of humour, chico. Arresting me! Ha ha ha!’
And with his ugly, jeering laughter echoing round the port, Chief of Police Grivas led his men away.
.
CHAPTER 16
‘I don’t know why we’re here.’
It was the next morning and the Doctor and Adam were standing by a bus stop on the edge of Buenos Sueños. The Doctor was carrying a white box, the contents of which he had not divulged to Adam.
‘I gave my word to the Mayor,’ said the Doctor sternly. ‘We must investigate the alarm.’
‘I don’t care about the Mayor and your word,’ Adam complained. ‘We should be rescuing Sniffage and finding Mum.’
‘A man is only as good as his word, Adam.’
‘I’m not a man yet,’ Adam replied sulkily. ‘I’m a boy. And I don’t care about words and promises. They’re not real. Not like a dog.’
‘Words and promises are real,’ insisted the Doctor. ‘And you are beginning to sound worryingly like your grandfather.’
‘I’d rather sound like him than you,’ Adam grumbled.
‘Don’t forget that it’s thanks to you that we lost Sniffage,’ the Doctor snapped, for a moment losing his temper.
‘And it’s thanks to you that we lost Mum!’
They both lapsed into silence.
The night before had been terrible. Sniffage’s absence had taken all the life from the boat. Even Malibu, who had been moaning for years about the amount of winks he had lost due to Sniffage’s unnecessary barking, had been sad. But Adam felt Sniffage’s loss worst of all because he had got him into trouble in the first place. And what for? The hotel register had told them nothing about his mother’s whereabouts. They were back where they started, still in search of Adam’s mum and now they’d lost Sniffage as well. Even Gogo and Pozzo had stopped telling jokes.
‘Listen, Adam,’ said the Doctor suddenly, in a softer voice, ‘I don’t want you thinking it’s better to be like your grandfather. He was a bad man, who left his family and used his abilities in wicked ways. I’m going to tell you something. My word is not the only reason that we’re still investigating the source of the alarm.’
‘What’s the other reason?’
‘Did I ever tell you about how they discovered the structure of DNA?’
‘Only about a hundred times.’
‘Then you’ll remember,’ said the Doctor, ‘that the scientists knew that the structure of DNA had to be simple. That, even though human beings are complex creatures, the thing that forms the core of their make-up actually had to be very sim
ple. But they couldn’t work out exactly how all the complex things they were discovering could be resolved in a simple pattern.’
Adam couldn’t believe it. After everything that had gone wrong, his father was still thinking about science.
‘Then they struck upon the idea of the double helix,’ said the Doctor, ‘one of the greatest discoveries in the history of science. All the things needed to make a complex human being in one simple structure.’
‘What has any of this got to do with Mum or Sniffage or the alarm?’
‘Everything,’ the Doctor replied. ‘Ever since we’ve landed here things have got more and more confusing: the alarm, the letter, the election, the Mayor, the police, notes from your mother, Sniffage and the spilled coffee. It seems as if the whole place is crazy. But science would tell us there is something simple underneath all this madness, something that explains it all and links it together. And if we can only explain one thing, then perhaps everything else will fall into place. Just like –’
‘The double helix,’ said Adam.
The Doctor nodded. As he did so, a rickety old bus wheezed its way out of a narrow street and lurched towards the bus stop.
‘But what if it’s not simple?’ said Adam. ‘What if it’s not a double helix? What if it’s a great big ugly mess instead?’
The doors of the bus opened and the Doctor climbed on, without answering the question. Adam sighed and followed him.
‘Welcome aboard,’ said the bus driver. ‘My name is Captain – sorry . . . Señor Torres, and I will be driving you today.’
‘Hello,’ said Adam.
‘Please choose your seat and settle down in preparation for the safety demonstration.’
‘Safety demonstration?’
‘In case of emergencies.’
‘But this is a bus, not a plane.’
‘I know that,’ said Torres touchily. ‘There’s no need to remind me I failed my pilot’s exam. Please take your seat.’
Adam went and sat by the Doctor. There were no other passengers on the bus.
Bus Pilot Torres got out of his seat and stood in the middle of the aisle.
‘Welcome to Aerobus!’ he announced. ‘The bus which is like a plane in every way. Except it doesn’t fly.’
‘That’s quite a big difference,’ muttered Adam.
‘Please pay attention to the following safety announcement, even if you are frequent flyers . . . I mean, passengers. The emergency exit is located at the bus door.’ Torres pointed to it. ‘In fact, it is the bus door. If there is an emergency, just go out of it – like you got in, except the other direction. We don’t have any low-level lighting to show you the way but I will shine a torch on it – if the batteries haven’t run out. In the event of a sudden loss of pressure in the cabin, please put your fingers in your ears until they pop. In the event of the bus landing on water, it is probably because it has been raining and there are puddles on the road. There is no need to adopt the emergency position or shout, ‘Brace, Brace!’ but you can if you want to. I wish you a pleasant journey on Aerobus.’
Torres returned to the driver’s seat, turned on the engine and the Aerobus began its slow crawl up the hill towards Tibidabo.
.
CHAPTER 17
Welcome to Tibidabo,’ said the driver as Adam and the Doctor got off the bus. ‘The hill above the city. I hope you enjoy your stay.’
‘Thank you,’ replied the Doctor.
They stepped out next to the amusement park that Vlad had described. Today it was closed. It was a forlorn sight: the rides that should have been filled with shrieking children were instead silent and stationary, emitting only the odd creak when a gust of wind blew through them. The Doctor noticed Adam looking longingly at some of them.
‘Come on,’ he said brusquely. ‘We’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot.’
Adam tore his gaze away from the rides and followed the Doctor. They soon left the amusement park behind them and were hiking into the dry hills. The harsh yellow sun beat down, making every step an effort. Sweating profusely, they walked for another hour until suddenly the Doctor came to an abrupt halt. He motioned to Adam to keep silent. Remembering the parrots’ warning about the guards, Adam did as he was told.
A hundred metres in front of them the mountain plateaued. Adam could see the outskirts of a small wood. And at the edge of the wood stood two guards with powerful machine guns.
The Doctor indicated they should retreat. They crept quietly back for about fifty metres until they found a large rock. The Doctor ducked behind it.
‘What are we stopping for?’ asked Adam.
‘To prepare our attack,’ the Doctor answered.
‘Attack? Didn’t you see the guns?’
‘I did,’ his father replied calmly. ‘But guns have a big drawback.’
‘They tend to make holes in everything?’ suggested Adam.
‘Guns can make holes in some things.’
‘Like us,’ Adam reminded him.
‘Like us,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘But they have problems with other things. Especially little things.’
The Doctor placed his white box on the floor and opened it. Out of it, in strict military formation, trooped a platoon of ants: red army ants. They were led by General Lepti, their commanding officer.
‘Attention!’ he signalled. Like other insects, they communicated by movement. And mimicking these movements with their own fingers was how Adam and the Doctor communicated with them.
The ants formed into serried ranks. General Lepti saluted them and then approached the Doctor, who put his hand on the ground so the General could march on to it.
‘General Lepti and the Special Ant Service reporting for duty, sir.’
‘Thank you,’ signalled the Doctor. ‘There are two guards 150 metres away on the edge of the wood. They are in our way. I would appreciate it if the SAS could remove them.’
‘Yes, sir.’
General Lepti was an ant of few signals. He immediately marched off the Doctor’s hand and returned to his platoon.
‘Listen up, troops,’ he signalled. ‘The Doctor has ordered us to take out two guards that are blocking his entrance to the wood. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ signalled the platoon.
‘We will divide into four groups. A, B, C and D. Groups A and C will perform a frontal assault on the guards while groups B and D will skirt round the back, cutting off their escape. Any questions?’
One army ant raised his feeler.
‘Permission to speak,’ indicated the General.
‘Do they have insecticide, sir?’
‘There have been no reports of chemical weapons,’ confirmed the General. The tapping of abdomens showed this was good news. ‘Any more questions? No. Then on my . . .’
The General stopped. One ant had moved out of formation and was approaching him.
‘What do you think you’re doing, soldier?’
The army ant signalled something.
‘Nobody told you to fall out,’ signed the General. ‘Get yourself back in formation at the double.’
But the army ant did not get back into formation. Instead he signalled once more to the General, who did an abrupt about turn and marched back towards the Doctor.
‘Permission to march up leg, Doctor?’
Intrigued, the Doctor nodded, and General Lepti climbed up the Doctor’s leg and into his hand. Adam was not an expert at observing the moods of insects (they were much more difficult to read than mammals), but he could have sworn that the General, normally so confident, seemed ill at ease.
‘It is with great regret, Doctor,’ he signalled, ‘that I am forced to report my platoon has been shamed.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Can�
�t say I’ve never heard of it before, but I never expected to find it in my swarm.’
‘What is it?’
‘Private Mandible over there,’ Lepti indicated the army ant who was out of formation, ‘has informed me that he’s . . .’ The General made a sign with his legs that neither the Doctor nor Adam had seen before.
‘Could you repeat that more slowly?’
General Lepti complied.
‘Oh,’ said the Doctor. ‘I can see how that could be quite awkward.’
‘What is it?’ demanded Adam, who had still not been able to decipher General Lepti’s communication.
‘I believe,’ the Doctor said, ‘that Private Mandible has announced he is a conscientious objector.’
‘What’s one of those?’
‘It’s someone who doesn’t believe in using violence,’ his father explained. ‘I’ve never heard of it happening to an army ant before, because . . . er . . . well, they use violence to get pretty much everything. How interesting.’
‘Permission to convene a court martial, sir, find Private Mandible guilty of cowardice in the face of the enemy and sentence him to death?’ General Lepti requested bluntly.
The Doctor shook his head.
‘I’m sorry, General, but when I allowed the SAS to come aboard the Ark of the Parabola I made it clear I believed in freedom of signal. The Ark was to be a place where animals could express themselves as they choose and there was only one rule.’
‘Don’t eat each other!’ said Adam.
‘Can’t have him amongst the troops,’ insisted General Lepti. ‘Bad for morale.’
‘Yes, I see that,’ said the Doctor. ‘Perhaps . . .’
‘He can stay with me,’ Adam suggested. Something about Private Mandible standing apart from the identical ranks attracted his sympathy.
‘That would be helpful, Adam,’ said the Doctor.
‘Yes, sir,’ said General Lepti.
The Doctor lowered him to the ground and he marched over to the solitary army ant.
‘Private Mandible, you are a coward and a disgrace,’ the General informed him curtly. ‘You have dishonoured your species. Report to the Doctor’s son and count yourself lucky that you’re not subject to the extremes of military discipline.’
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