Chief Grivas’s mouth dropped open. For a moment it looked as though he was going to collapse. Without the Buenos Sueños Crime and Punishment Code, he was nothing.
‘But I don’t know the law of the sea,’ he admitted weakly.
‘Well, I guess you’d better go and do some swotting,’ said Clackburger. ‘And while you’re about it, I’d be mighty grateful if you’d keep an eye out for my wallet. Have a nice day.’
Speechless, Chief of Police Grivas, followed by Officer Grivas, departed the Ark of the Parabola. Adam watched as they led the rest of the police force back into the narrow streets of Buenos Sueños.
‘Wow!’ said Adam. ‘Thanks, Mr Clackburger.’
‘Mr who?’
Adam turned sharply round. Wyoming T. Clackburger had suddenly lost his American accent. His voice sounded very much like . . .
‘Grandad!’
‘What did I tell you about that name?’
‘Sorry. Calico Jack! But how did you . . . ? You’re tanned. Your hair is a different colour. Your clothes.’
‘Don’t tell anybody else this,’ said his grandfather, ‘but I never go anywhere without a dressing-up case and my make-up box. Then all you need is a new accent and you can be someone different whenever you want.’
Adam was amazed at the change in his grandfather’s appearance. But there was one thing that make-up and dressing up didn’t explain.
‘But you’re so much fatter,’ he said.
‘Bit of inspiration there,’ said his grandfather, shooting a quick glance towards the city to make sure the policemen were out of sight. He pulled up his T-shirt. Hanging from his shoulders, her face buried in his chest, was Simia.
‘You can get down now,’ he said.
‘Not a moment too soon,’ said the monkey, dropping straight on to the deck.
‘But how . . . ?’ began Adam.
‘I wagered that if they could understand you, then they could understand me,’ explained Calico Jack. ‘I told them that if they didn’t provide me with some extra bulk, the police would be searching the Ark and taking them off to the pound.’
‘Them?’
‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ Jack swung round. Hanging down his back, fast asleep, was Malibu.
‘Wow!’ said Adam.
‘What is it?’
‘You’ve done something nobody else has ever managed,’ said Adam. ‘You’ve made Malibu help. He’s been on this boat five years and he’s never done anything useful before.’
‘I resent that,’ yowled Malibu, opening one eye. And to demonstrate his readiness for action, the cat promptly nuzzled his head back into the gap between Calico Jack’s shoulder blades and fell asleep.
Adam picked him up and placed him on the barrel where he normally slept.
‘I hope you noticed,’ chattered Simia, ‘that no human could have clung on as long as I did without moving. Upper-arm strength. Another thing you lost when you came out of the trees and started all that unnecessary upright walking. Didn’t think about your arms, did you? Hanging down by your sides for generation after generation, doing nothing. They’ve got so weak they’re practically useless.’
‘Hardly useless,’ Adam protested.
‘And don’t even get me started on the way you let your tail waste away.’ she went on, jabbing her finger critically at him.
‘Don’t blame me!’ cried Adam defensively. ‘I never had a tail in the first place.’
‘That’s what you say.’ The monkey sounded dubious.
‘Hey! Calm down!’
Adam’s grandfather couldn’t understand anything that was being said, but he could tell from the agitated tone of the discussion and Simia’s aggressive body language that they were having some kind of disagreement.
Adam and Simia eyed each other angrily.
‘She’s always going on at me for not having a tail,’ moaned Adam. ‘Or laughing because I’ve got no fur.’
‘We can’t be thinking about that now,’ said his grandfather. ‘We may have seen off the police for now, but I know from experience that they have a nasty habit of coming back – usually with evidence and witnesses. And handcuffs. So we must rescue the Doctor as quickly as we can.’
‘And my mother,’ Adam reminded him.
‘Your mother as well.’
‘And Sniffage.’
‘Who?’
‘Sniffage,’ repeated Adam. ‘He was taken away to the dog pound by the police.’
Adam’s grandfather looked at Adam sternly.
‘Is there anyone we don’t have to rescue?’
‘That’s about it,’ said Adam.
‘You’re sure?’
Adam nodded. ‘Oh, and we’ve got to stop the Dreadful Alarm,’ he added.
Adam’s grandfather allowed himself a sigh. ‘What on earth is that?’ he asked.
Adam opened his mouth to explain. But he didn’t need to.
BRIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGG!
Almost on cue, the alarm began to ring, echoing across the city as it had before. But there were two things that were different about it.
First, it was ringing at night.
And second, it didn’t stop.
.
CHAPTER 20
The alarm kept going all through the night. Adam, Calico Jack, Simia and Malibu were driven below deck in a vain attempt to escape the sound. But it followed them down into the cabins of the Ark of the Parabola and boomed through doors and portholes, refusing to be repelled by blankets thrown over heads and fingers drilled into ears.
Morning came and still the alarm rang. There was no sign of life on the deck of the Ark of the Parabola or in the streets of Buenos Sueños. Adam lay in his cabin with his face buried in a pillow, hands clamped over his ears, thinking it had to stop soon . . . then thinking it would never stop . . . then thinking if he counted to a hundred, a thousand, a million, it would surely stop. But the Dreadful Alarm was impervious to Adam and his thoughts. It rang and rang as the sun rose and as the sun set.
And the next night brought no respite. If anything, the air grew stiller and the sound grew louder – wave after wave bouncing off the mountain sides, swelling and growing and then descending with all its force on the city and on the port. By now Adam was finding it hard to remember what the normal world sounded like and was having to remind himself that once it had been free of the incessant ring.
On and on it rang. Sometimes Adam thought it was getting louder, sometimes quieter. But the truth was that it was never any different – except that now the sound didn’t feel like it was just outside his head. Now it was inside too. And the echoes were no longer against the walls of the mountains; they were against the sides of his own skull. The sound was like a swelling ball inside his head, which grew as it ricocheted back and forth and up and down until Adam couldn’t think any more. Was he losing his mind? Was he going mad? Was he . . . ?
It stopped.
Just as the first beam of sun streaked over the mountains and touched the top of the mast of the Ark of the Parabola, the alarm stopped.
Two nights and a day hiding from the dreadful sound in his cabin had driven Adam stir-crazy. He rushed up on deck.
Gentle rays of sunshine warmed his face. The taste of the sea was fresh and salty. All that remained of the Dreaful Alarm that had battered the city of Buenos Sueños for thirty-six long hours was a faint hum. The world felt new and bright. He smiled. And then he remembered the Doctor and Sniffage and his smile faded.
‘Cheer up, young ’un – it’s stopped, hasn’t it?’
Calico Jack emerged from the hatch. He went and stood by the rail, looking at the city and swallowing big lungfuls of air.
‘I was thinking about the Doctor and Sniffage,’ Adam explained.
‘Tha
t’s no reason not to enjoy a beautiful morning,’ said Calico Jack. ‘When you’ve been cooped up as much as I have, you learn to appreciate such things.’
Adam felt uncomfortable as he remembered that his grandfather had spent time in prison. Should he really be trusting this man who lied as easily as he told the truth and whom the Doctor had spoken of with almost as much hatred as he had of Professor Scabellax?
‘You didn’t tell me what you were in prison for,’ said Adam.
‘Nope,’ agreed Calico Jack, looking up at the mountains that enclosed the isolated city. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Perhaps you should,’ Adam ventured.
‘And perhaps I shouldn’t,’ said Calico Jack. ‘Thing is, young ’un, you’ll find out what I’ve been in jail for, then you’ll probably start worrying about things and saying, “Well, I’m not sure I want a murderer on board my –’
‘Murderer!’ cried Adam.
‘There, I’ve gone and said it,’ said Calico Jack, shaking his head. ‘Me and my big mouth.’
‘Murderer!’ repeated Adam. ‘But who . . . how . . . when . . . why?’
Calico Jack opened his mouth and roared with laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ demanded Adam furiously. ‘There’s nothing funny about being a murderer.’
‘You’ve spent too long with the Doctor,’ said Calico Jack, making no attempt to hide his amusement despite Adam’s fury. ‘You can’t even see when someone’s pulling your leg.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Adam. ‘You said –’
‘Didn’t you think that perhaps I might have planted that little clue in there so as you would think you had stumbled across the truth by yourself?’
Adam wasn’t sure what Calico Jack was saying.
‘You mean you aren’t a murderer?’
‘Whether I’m a murderer or not is neither here nor there,’ said Calico Jack. ‘The point is, I got you to think I was one.’
‘But you could have just told me you were one,’ said Adam, even more puzzled.
‘I could have,’ acknowledged Calico Jack, whose raucous laugh had now been dampened down to a broad smile which Adam found marginally less insufferable. ‘But one of the things you’ve got to learn, Adam, is that people always believe things much more when they think they’ve found them out by themselves. Especially when they think they’ve done it by outwitting the other person.’
Adam felt foolish.
‘Don’t look so down, young ’un,’ said Calico Jack, reaching over and cuffing Adam gently on the head. ‘It’s not you. It’s all of us. Overestimating our own intelligence is a human trait. Remember this: nobody is ever quite as clever as they think they are. Now, it’s that gap between how clever people really are and how clever they think they are where people like me can take advantage.’
This was a lesson unlike any Adam had been given before. The Doctor had taught him facts about the world. He had never shown him how to exploit them.
Calico Jack gave him a wink and wandered back down below deck. Adam watched him go, remembering that his grandfather had never actually denied being a murderer. With Calico Jack, that couldn’t be an accident.
‘I am soooo tired.’ Malibu had appeared on deck and was yowling in protest. ‘I have had no winks for, like, years.’
‘You’re being overdramatic, Malibu,’ said Adam.
‘Overdramatic? Moi?’ said Malibu. ‘You don’t know how totally wrong you are. When I played “Sleeping cat” in one movie I was the only one Ang didn’t tell to “do less”.’
‘Really?’
Malibu nodded. ‘All I heard on set was, “Do less, Kate”, “Do less, Hugh”, but he never said that to me.’
‘That’s probably because you were doing nothing.’
‘Uh-huh. Which was exactly what the role required,’ purred Malibu. ‘I’m a method cat when it comes to acting. I live the role. There wasn’t a cat in Hollywood that could convey idleness like me. Any scripts needing a sleeping cat came through my flap.’
‘So are you in lots of films, then?’
Malibu shook his head.
‘I didn’t want to be typecast,’ he explained. ‘I wanted to do more action roles. So I auditioned for “Cat jumping off lap” in the last Bond movie, but the director decided to go with a Siamese.’ He shook his head and hissed. ‘Then Steven cast a Siamese in his next movie, and straight away the scripts dried up. Every cat had to be a Siamese. Sleeping, jumping off laps, playing with cotton wool – it didn’t matter. The rest of us in the business were finished overnight. It’s not about talent any more; it’s about looks, and if you aren’t skinny enough, you don’t stand a chance.’
Adam didn’t know what to say. Malibu had never spoken about his film career before or what had brought him to be scavenging the wharf in Los Angeles when the Ark of the Parabola docked all those years ago.
‘I took it bad,’ admitted Malibu. ‘I hit the cat food pretty hard. The pounds piled on, and before you knew it Uma was kicking me out on the street. She said she had allergy issues, but two days later I saw her going into the pet store.’
Malibu paused. Perhaps the memory was too painful.
‘She came out with a Siamese too,’ he said bitterly. ‘And I thought we had a bond.’
‘Was that when we found you?’
Malibu cleaned his whiskers and shook his head.
‘Things got worse before that. I had a lot of anger issues. Too often, late at night, I’d find myself on top of some roof, brawling and yowling. That’s where I got this.’ He carefully pushed forward his ear to reveal a deep scar behind it, where his fur refused to grow.
‘What happened?’
‘I lost a fight one night,’ Malibu recalled, bristling at the memory. ‘This big ol’ tom caught me with a sucker scratch and I went down. I fell off the roof. When I came round, I found myself, bruised and bloody, in a trash can in an alley downtown. I knew I’d hit rock bottom. I was outta control. I had to get help.’
‘What did you do?’ Adam said.
‘Only one thing to do. I joined the Twelve Paw Programme.’
‘What did that involve?’
‘Sleeping,’ said Malibu. ‘It was the only way to reconnect with my inner cat.’
He stretched and yawned.
‘That’s why this alarm thing worries me,’ he said. ‘I haven’t had any shut-eye for ages. Much more and I could go back to my old brawling days. So, if you’ll forgive me, it’s time for me to catch up on some winks.’
As he finished yowling, a ray of light began to warm his favourite sleeping place. He leapt up on the barrel, settled down and closed his eyes. Soon a steady purring indicated that the cat was soundly asleep.
Adam watched, hardly daring to breathe. Until now he had never understood why it was so important for Malibu to sleep all the time.
‘What are you doing?’ chattered Simia’s voice behind him.
‘Shhh,’ said Adam.
‘Don’t you shhh me,’ said Simia. ‘What I want to know –’
‘Please talk quieter,’ whispered Adam hoarsely. ‘Malibu needs to get some sleep.’
‘Sleep!’ shrieked Simia. ‘All that cat does is sleep.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Adam. ‘But, you see, he’s got to because of the Twelve Paw Programme – to stop him losing the connection with his inner cat and to help with his anger-management issues.’
Simia began to chatter wildly, jumping back and forth. ‘Anger-management issues? The only time that cat is angry is if some creature wakes him up.’
But Adam wasn’t going to be bullied by Simia this time.
‘I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. That’s why we’ve got to try and keep quiet when he’s sleeping. He could snap back at any time. He even showed me a scar from his
past.’
Simia, who had been capering up and down the deck to demonstrate her disagreement, stopped suddenly.
‘That scar behind his ear where the fur won’t grow back?’
Adam nodded.
‘He got that scar when he rolled off the barrel in his sleep last year. I know. I assisted the Doctor while he stitched the wound.’
Adam looked at Malibu and sighed. Malibu winked. Adam was beginning to wonder if the Doctor had left out rather a large and important topic when he was educating him. True, Adam knew things that no other child would ever know – how to talk to every species of animal – but what he couldn’t tell was when a creature was lying or telling the truth. All his knowledge was wasted because he was too easily taken in.
‘I cheep, I cheep, I cheep! You look a bit down in the mouth.’
Adam looked up. Fluttering in front of him were Gogo and Pozzo.
‘I had some down in my mouth once,’ said Gogo.
‘Serves you right for biting ducks,’ said Pozzo.
Adam managed a small smile.
‘What do you call a bad-tempered seabird?’
‘An albacross.’
Adam managed a slightly bigger smile.
‘What do you call a seabird that won’t stop talking?’
‘A cormorant.’
Adam started to laugh.
Gogo and Pozzo allowed themselves a small bow.
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you and once again, we thank you.’
And satisfied that they had cheered Adam up, they flew back to their perch at the top of the mast.
Calico Jack appeared at the hatch and hobbled back towards Adam.
‘Come on, lad. If we’re gonna find the Doctor and your dog and whatever else you’ve managed to lose in this city, then we need to get going before the police get themselves a warrant.’
Adam nodded.
‘What’s the matter with your leg?’ he asked. ‘You’re walking really strangely.’
Calico Jack shook his head. ‘Ah, my arthritis is playing me up something terrible. I knew I should have waited until the summer before breaking out of Alcatraz that time. The freezing cold water plays havoc with your bones.’
Adam and the Arkonauts Page 12