by Susan Moore
She thrust her FastPad on to Henry’s lap. The house looked like a palace. “But we’re fine here, Mummy,” he said. “We don’t need to move.”
Aunt Vera took his hand and squeezed it. “My little darling. It’s not a case of need, it’s a case of deserve.” She jabbed at the photograph with a bony finger.
“Incoming postcard from Doctor Tang for Mrs Walker,” announced Bennett.
Aunt Vera sprang to attention. “Open it.”
The shutters automatically half lowered over the windows as the room’s Screenwall activated. Henry’s heart started to race. This was it. The background image of the beach he had spent hours perfecting appeared. Nat and Wen were sitting side by side in matching spotty swimsuits, their faces hidden behind sunglasses, holding tall ice-cream sundae glasses.
“Hello, Aunt Vera. I just want you to know that I’m having the best time of my life here with Wen,” said Nat, waving into camera. “We’ve been swimming and now we’re having blueberry-butterscotch-banana ice-cream sundaes.”
Henry smiled. His work looked good. Actually, not just good, but amazing.
“I’ve been invited to stay for another week. I didn’t think you’d mind, so I’ve said yes. Bye-bye, Aunt Vera. Send my love to Prissy.”
“Hang on,” said Aunt Vera as Nat’s face faded from view. “Now, I’m not sure about that.”
Henry grabbed his mother’s hand and put on his angelic face.
“But, Mummy, a week’s not long. And it’s so nice being here on our own.”
Aunt Vera ruffled his hair. “My poor darling, is the Brat very hard to live with?”
Henry bit his tongue. He hated having to lie.
“Yes, Mummy. I much prefer it when it’s just us,” he said, clutching on to NutNut’s furry tail.
Aunt Vera smiled. “I like the way you think, Master Henry Walker. You are your mother’s son. Let’s get the house purchase underway before she returns.”
Chapter Forty
AN ICY ARRIVAL
“Excuse me,” said a flight attendant, touching Nat’s shoulder. “Would you like a snack before we land?”
Nat lifted her eye mask.
“Yes, please,” she said with a cavernous yawn.
The flight attendant placed a tray on her lap. Nat looked down to find a limp-looking sandwich and a small container of orange juice, which she opened and gratefully swigged. Lifting the top slice of bread revealed a piece of hard yellow cheese. Yuk.
Across the aisle, Fred was snoring loudly, her hat resting over her face. A large handwritten sign reading Do not disturb me under ANY circumstances had been taped to her hat.
Nat leaned across. “Fred. We’re about to land.”
The snoring stopped, the hat lifted. Fred grabbed the sandwich from Nat’s outstretched hand and took a big bite.
“Sustenance for the mission ahead,” she said, chewing fast.
The plane’s engines slowed and the “Fasten Seatbelt” sign lit up.
“Prepare for landing,” announced the captain.
High winds buffeted the plane as it started its descent. When the wheels bumped down, they skidded across the icy runway. Nat gripped the arms of her seat as the plane juddered and the tyres screeched. She was pleased she’d put Fizz in plane mode otherwise he’d be blowing smoke and snorting like a crazed wild boar.
The plane came to an abrupt halt. The other passengers broke into a flurry of activity, leaping up out of their seats, opening the overhead lockers, pulling out thick coats, hats and gloves, and racing to put them on.
A woman reached into the locker above Nat’s head and pulled out a grey fur hat. She glanced down at Nat in her shorts and T-shirt and shook her head, tutting, before making her way back to her seat.
“I suspect she thinks we’re ill-dressed for a blizzard,” said Fred.
Stepping on to the jetway, Nat was hit by a wall of the most intense cold she had ever experienced while Fred strode out in her khaki shirt and shorts as if she was still in the jungle.
“Those flight attendants were most unhelpful. Firstly, I missed my breakfast. Secondly, I could do with another one of those sandwiches. I’m going to file a complaint,” she said.
Nat’s teeth were chattering too hard to reply.
“Come on,” said Fred, pushing her way to the front of the line for passport control. Nat followed, averting her eyes from the furious glances of the other passengers.
“Purpose?” said the official, raising an eyebrow.
“Science,” said Fred. “We are here on an expedition of the utmost importance. I am Doctor Fairlight, PPDED, honorary member of the Royal Society of Botanists, and this is my trusted assistant, Miss Natalie Walker.”
She thrust their passports under his nose.
The official examined the passports, the stamps and visas.
“Welcome to Mongolia. I hope you will find warmer clothes for your expedition,” he said with a smile.
They hauled Fred’s crates off a creaky old luggage belt on to a rusty trolley and exited into the arrivals area. Nat looked at the sea of faces. Everyone was staring at them, nudging each other, pointing and laughing.
A tall boy dressed in a long blue coat and fur hat pushed through the crowds, a large bag swinging from his shoulder. He could only have been a few years older than Nat and had high cheekbones with bright, rosy cheeks.
“Tavtai morilogtun. I am Altan Borjigin,” he said with a short bow. “You easy to spot.”
“An ab-so-luu-uute plea-sss-uuure,” sang Fred, shaking his hand vigorously.
“You singer?” he said, his brow furrowing.
“Doctor Fairlight’s the name and, yes, I’m partial to a bit of opera,” she said, her words scaling an arpeggio. “I was once fortunate enough to understudy in Carmen. A libretto—”
“You Mat?” He turned to Nat.
“Nat.”
“Sorry,” he said, looking at her boyish clothes with a grin. “Hard to tell.”
She scowled. He dumped the bag on the floor and unzipped the top. Out burst an explosion of fur coats.
“Looks like you raided the local zoo,” said Nat.
Altan reached in and pulled out hats, coats, trousers, socks and shirts.
“Take,” he said, handing Nat a pair of thick felt trousers, a red wool shirt and a brown sweater.
“Is this a joke?” asked Nat.
He raised an eyebrow.
“No. No joke, Princess. Put on.”
“My name is Nat, not Princess.”
“Got it, Princess.”
She decided to ignore him and concentrate on the felt trousers.
“Wen would have a fit,” she said, turning them over in her hands.
“Wen? Fit?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
He folded his arms.
“You insult me. I understand. My English is well learned.”
Nat sighed and pulled on the hand-knitted socks, fur-lined coat, long pair of leather boots with upturned toes, and pair of thermal gloves.
She sniffed the coat’s sleeve, running her nose all the way down to the gloves.
“This stinks,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Or you?” said Altan with a smirk. “Here.”
He tossed a brown fur hat at her like a frisbee. Her reaction was so quick that she caught it in one hand. A momentary flash of surprise crossed his face. She pulled it down over her ears. She wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but she was too old for that now.
Chapter Forty-One
CONCERN
“I’m most concerned that Nat has still not heard from Jamuka,” said Doctor Tang over breakfast.
Wen ran her fingers through her newly pink-coloured hair. She’d got more to worry about than that, but she wasn’t about to tell her mum the truth.
“Me too.”
Doctor Tang poured a large cup of coffee from the gold pot that sat on their marble kitchen table.
“I sent another message to the Mongolian authori
ties again late last night, voicing my concern, but they’ve come back with the same response. We have to verify the location before they will begin an investigation. It is most frustrating.”
Wen nodded.
“Tell me again. What kind of search did you say you were doing while you were staying with her?”
“We tried looking for Borjigin contact details in the Hentii Mountains, and when that was hopeless we tried the Ulan Bator region. But there are thousands and thousands of Borjigins, Mum.”
“Hmm.” She took a sip of coffee, deep in thought. “The longer he is out of contact the more chance there is…”
Wen waited for her mum to complete her sentence. She had already guessed what she was about to say. Wen and Nat had already talked about the possibility of it, but the thought that her practical, scientific mum was about to voice that possibility made her blood run cold.
“More chance of what, Mum?”
Doctor Tang looked up, her brow furrowed.
“That … that perhaps Jamuka has been poisoned too.”
Chapter Forty-Two
BIG FREEZE
Nat bent down to pick up her backpack. With so many clothes on she felt like a marshmallow. She reached inside and pulled out Fizz. His eyes snapped open from sleep mode. The moment he saw her they glowed bright green.
“Location Mongolia,” he announced.
“That robot?” said Altan, taking a step closer.
Tracking his voice, Fizz looked up at Altan.
Nat’s hand curled around her dragon, cradling him protectively. “His name’s Fizz.”
Altan laughed. “No fizz here, too cold. You have robot-warmer suit?”
“A what?”
“Suit?”
Nat frowned. She didn’t like to feel one-upped.
“No,” she said quietly.
“We get him one at market.”
“Gosh, this is a hullabaloo,” said Fred.
Nat looked across to see her trying to squeeze into a pair of black trousers that only went halfway up her legs. The stitching was straining at the seams.
Altan walked over, grabbed the trousers around the waistband and pulled them up.
“Goodness me, young man, what strength!”
He took no notice, grabbed a knee-high boot and stood at her side. Nat had to laugh as he reached down to grab Fred’s foot as if she was a horse. He lifted it, placing it inside the boot and tugged hard. It jammed against Fred’s bulging calf and wouldn’t budge.
“You need man boots,” said Altan, giving up.
Fred ignored him. She picked a long black coat off the floor and pulled it on. It reached halfway down her arms.
“Fizz, photo Fred, send to Wen and Henry,” whispered Nat. “Title it ‘snow giant’.”
Altan stuffed the remaining clothes into a bag and slung it over his shoulder.
“Put robot away. Follow,” he said, heading towards the exit.
Nat stuffed Fizz into her coat pocket. As she stepped through the door, she ducked her head against the icy, horizontal wind. How could anyone survive in a place like this? The frigid arctic air felt like needles as she breathed it in. She wanted to flee back into the relative warmth of the airport and find the next flight home.
Up ahead Altan was striding out into the night air. Fred lumbered behind him like a yeti. Nat followed.
They stopped next to an Overrider. Nat had seen shiny new Overriders on the streets of Hong Kong before, but they were nothing like this one. Instead of four wheels it had six, each one bearing a massive metal-studded tyre, which lifted the all-terrain truck high up above the ground. The truck itself was scratched and chipped. The yellow paint had all but worn away leaving a dull sheen of metal glinting under the dim car-park lights. On top sat a roof rack, tightly packed with boxes, making it almost twice its normal height. A big canvas tarpaulin anchored them down. Four giant search lamps framed the windscreen. It was a beast.
Altan opened the door.
“Princess in back,” he said to Nat, waving his hand inside.
For a moment she felt like throwing him a one-inch punch but she couldn’t be bothered. Better to ignore him. She climbed into the back row of seats where there was just enough room for her to squeeze into a narrow bucket seat that lay between stacks of boxes.
Fred clambered in behind, filling the whole middle row. Altan shoved her crates in at her feet.
“Be careful with those, young man!” sang out Fred in a high operatic voice.
Nat clapped her hands over her ears. It was deafening.
Altan pretended he hadn’t heard her. He landed her last crate with a thud on top of the others and slid the door closed. Moments later he jumped into the passenger seat. Next to him, the driver grunted a greeting and started the engine. Nat fumbled in her pocket for Fizz. When she pulled him out, his eyes were heavy-lidded.
“Temperature below zero. Function impaired,” he said, his voice slurred and faint.
She wrapped her gloved hand around him, trying to transfer her warmth to him.
“Call Wen and Henry,” she said, opening her palm.
His normally sparkly eyes were dull and faded. His wings creaked slowly open.
“Hai, what time is it there?” said Wen, blinking into the camera. “Is that a dead fox on your head?”
“Ha ha. Very funny. Sometime in the middle of the night. I don’t know exactly,” said Nat. “This is the coldest place on the planet.”
“Mum asked if I had a good time with you. I said it was ding but we spent all our time searching for Borjigins. She’s tried the Mongolian authorities again but they won’t start a search until we’ve got proof of location.”
“Hopefully I’ll have that soon.”
Her screen split. Henry appeared in the other half, his hair sticking out at funny angles.
“Where are you?” He yawned.
Nat smiled. “In an Overrider. Did you finish the postcard? Am I in big trouble?”
“No, Henry did a ding job with the beach,” said Wen.
“Mummy’s going to buy the biggest mansion on the Peak before you get back. It’s a monster, and so is she,” said Henry.
Nat gulped.
They talked until Fizz’s battery ran into the red zone. Nat wiped away the condensation and looked out of the window at snow flurries blowing in swirling patterns.
“Assistance, please,” said Fred, swinging her head round, blinding Nat with her head torch.
She thrust a pair of tweezers into Nat’s hand.
“Hold this.”
Peering over the back of the seat, Nat saw that Fred had set up a mini lab. A rack of test tubes sat on top of a wooden board where a half-dissected plant lay next to a scalpel.
“When I slice through the stem, hold it open.”
“What is it?”
“A Spectaculum lichotis.”
Nat leaned over the seat, poised with the tweezers. Fred picked up the scalpel and drew it down the stem like a surgeon.
“Hold!” she barked.
Nat reached over and pinched one side of the stem between the tweezers.
“No! There,” said Fred, grabbing her hand and repositioning it.
Satisfied, Fred reached into a small bag and brought out an Octozeb. It had been cut in half, only one goggle remaining. She clipped it on to the right lens of her glasses.
“Ku! SPIN makes the Octozeb. I’d never have thought of using it for this though,” said Nat, happy to see something so familiar.
Fred paused.
“Your company?”
“Yes. It was really my parents’ though. They started it with my Grandpa Walter, my mum’s dad.”
“I will have to request that you give me a new one for my future expedition – the one that you have committed to most handsomely fund.”
Fred bent her head over the stem and started to hum.
“Do you think the Clan has been poisoned?” said Nat, at last daring to ask her burning question.
Fred fell silent fo
r a moment.
“I cannot say as yet what we will discover when we arrive at the camp. But I do fear we must anticipate that some harm has come from the Marbolic poison. It is, ultimately, deadly.” She looked back up at Nat. “I will do my very best to find an antidote, but it will take both you and me to do it. Are you with me?”
Chapter Forty-Three
ACTION!
The test had begun. He watched the man race around the compound, and glanced over at the Barzurkan guards, pleased to see their jaws had dropped in amazement. The man was running faster than a cheetah. He was a flash of colour against the white landscape. His feet sent flurries of snow up into the air, his lungs working like a pair of giant bellows.
One of the Barzurkan, armed with a stopwatch, shook his head as he checked the man’s times.
“Eight times faster than before,” he announced.
“Excellent,” said the General, taking another puff on his stogie cigar. He was dressed in a heavy fur coat and hat, bearing the insignia of 14th Battalion. “This is better than I’d hoped. Good work. We can put the rumours to bed now about our weapon and announce our release date. It’s time to show the world how the Barzurkan superpower is now super-superpowered.”
The General slapped Burilgi hard on the back, and nodded towards one of the guards. The guard stepped forward holding a large briefcase. Another nod and he clicked it open to reveal neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills.
“My deposit,” said the General. “How much of this can you make?”
“More than you need, but I must have more Growemup to get a good crop. This weather is killing the plants.”
The General inhaled sharply. “That might be difficult.”
He shrugged. “I need it. And by the way, my price just went up. I want fifteen million US dollars.”
The General paused. He took a step closer to him. “You make the quantity we agreed and in five days I give it to you. But if you fail, you will pay. Understood?”
He nodded, pleased with his clever bargaining. He had the General just where he wanted him.