CHAPTER TWENTY–EIGHT – NEOPTOLEMAS AND REDFELD
On returning to the Institute, Tom ran straight up the stairs from the Professor’s office to the small ward that Doctor Makepeace patrolled. The only patient was Septimus, but he was getting dressed and nodding to the Doctor, who it appeared, was lecturing him.
“That wound is healing well, but it won’t if you gallivant around history the way you normally do. Try and keep out of trouble. If that is possible, of course,” he finished wearily and nodding at Tom, he swept out of the room.
Septimus winked at Tom, but then his face grew serious.
“Edward, Charlie, Mary – are they ...”
“All fine, I left the boys eating a double–sized fried breakfast each with Mary nibbling on a bread roll and telling them they’ll get fat.”
Septimus chuckled, “She seems to be slipping with ease into the twenty–first century I reckon. She’ll be nagging them to eat their five a day next! So, tell me, what did I miss?”
Tom told his friend all about the Twisted Reality and their visit, along with the existence of some resistance groups and those like Teuber, who were trying to make that other world better. Finally he told the Welshman about the Professor contacting Redfeld. “I did not see much of Redfeld there. I think he might have come back here and be trying to meet the Professor. We must find them both and try to work out what is going on.”
“I agree. Edward Dyson then: he is the answer. We can use him to find the Professor. Let’s go,” Septimus said.
Edward was reading history books again in the library. This was becoming his favourite pastime. They found him with a wall of books piled up all around him, like a barricade. Tom saw titles about the Zulu war; both the World Wars, cricket, an Idiot’s Guide to Computers, and a History of Pop Music. He looked up as they came in.
“So, who on earth were the Beatles and what is this rock and roll?” he said, looking puzzled at a picture of Paul McCartney and John Lennon and the album cover from Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
“I’ll take you to one of their concerts if you like. I think I can get tickets for the Eddy Sullivan show in 1964. Only, not right now. Right now, we need your help,” said Septimus sitting down on the corner of the table. Tom threw himself into a chair opposite the Lieutenant and explained that they needed to find the Professor.
Edward nodded. Then, his eyes took on a faraway look as if he was daydreaming. The expression on his face stayed like that for a few minutes and then he frowned and his eyes focused back onto Tom again. He shook his head.
“I’m afraid to say that I cannot sense him, Thomas,” he said.
“But I thought you could sense all Walkers wherever they are and whenever in time they are?” Septimus observed.
Edward pursed his lips. “Well, I have to have seen them, I think, or know them. Then, it’s like hunting fox. The dogs can follow the scent and it’s Tally Ho and away we go. In my case, if the scent is live, I can follow a Walker even if they jump a long way in space or time.”
“So, why can’t you sense the Professor?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know,” Edward confessed.
There followed a few moments’ frustrated silence, before Septimus spoke. “I think it must mean he is still in the Office.”
Edward shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but Septimus held up his hand to stop him.
“I don’t mean the Professor’s office, Edward. Let’s say the Professor was outside this world – say in the Twisted Reality, or the Custodian’s Office. Could you sense him then? Perhaps you can only sense Walkers if they are in this world – this reality?” Septimus speculated for a moment.
Edward looked puzzled, but nodded. “In which case ...,” he began then suddenly stopped and beamed at them. “Ah, gentlemen, you will be glad to know that the Professor has returned. I can sense him again. He is close, he is...” Edward’s hand shot out to point back down the house knocking the Idiot’s Guide to Computers flying, “... in his office!”
Tom leapt to his feet, followed by Septimus who jumped up too fast and then groaned in pain and held his side. Both of them started off towards the door. Tom sprinted past Septimus and pulled the door open.
“Would one of you like to tell me just what exactly is going on?” asked Edward.
“Tell you later ... must see him!” yelled Tom over his shoulder and he turned around and barged through the door, almost knocking Mary over who was just entering. She screamed and jumped to one side. Tom shouted a brief, “Sorry!” and carried on past, but this time did collide with Charlie, who was standing in the corridor just outside the door, munching on a sandwich. Unfortunately, the sailor did not have time to take evasive action, so they both went down in a tangle of legs and arms.
“Oi! What the heck are you doing?” Charlie demanded as he picked himself up and brushed cheese and pickle off his shirt.
“Sorry! Must catch the Professor,” Tom blurted out. “You surely can’t still be hungry, Charlie!” he said, stumbling to his feet and running off down the corridor, past the startled Mr Phelps, who had no time to raise his usual objections before Tom burst into the Professor’s office. What he then saw sent a chill through him, despite the heat of the July day.
The Professor was indeed in his room standing in front of his desk. But he was not alone. For, standing there, his gaze drawn by the noise of the door opening, was Captain Redfeld. That was bad enough, but what really shocked Tom was the sight of the Professor shaking Captain Redfeld’s hand!
Redfeld smiled nastily at Tom and nodded his head in mock salute at the boy.
“Professor, shall we?” the Captain said and with their hands still clasped together, the pair vanished, just as Septimus and the others caught up with Tom. Mimicking Tom’s earlier response, they stopped dead in their tracks and stared into the room.
Mary spoke first. “Master Thomas, unless my eyes deceived me, that was Professor Neoptolemas and that evil man Captain Redfeld. Are they in league together?”
“It is as we feared, Tom,” Septimus said. “They are, as Mary suggests, in league: the Professor, the Captain and the Custodian as well.”
Tom said nothing, but took a few steps into the room and then bent down to pick something off the floor that was just where the Professor had been standing a few moments before. He stood back up and opened his hand. In it was an acorn. An acorn? What was it the Professor had said?
“... yes, you are brave. You will need all that in the time to come. Before this business with Redfeld is finished. Before we try and rescue your family, you will also need belief that what I – what we must do – will come right in the end. It’s all to do with acorns really.”
All to do with acorns ...
Was it a message? Was the Professor trying to tell him something? Or had it just fallen out of his pocket by accident?
“Is it true, Tom?” asked Charlie, disturbing Tom’s train of thought. “Do you think the Professor is helping Redfeld with his plans as the Captain hoped he would?”
Tom was staring down at the acorn. Suddenly he made a choice. He looked around at each of his friends’ faces in turn then said emphatically, “NO! It’s a dangerous game he is playing, whatever it is, but I think he has not betrayed us.”
Charlie exchanged a glance with the others. “He seemed pretty chummy just now, if you ask me, so how can you be sure?”
Tom shrugged and shook his head – it was a gut feeling no more. “I can’t be: that’s the problem, but for the time being I am prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he has not betrayed us, then he is up to something and could be in dreadful danger when Redfeld finds out that it is he who has been betrayed. Or, say I am wrong and the Prof is in league with Redfeld; then we must try and stop them, don’t you think?”
“So, what do we do now?” Septimus said. “Go after them?”
Tom nodded at the Welshman, but he was still not sure about involving the other three. “It might be very dangerous. Redfeld on his
own is a killer and I have no idea what the Professor or the Custodian are up to – or capable of.”
Charlie laughed a hollow laugh at that. “Funny how I believed the Nazis were winning and we were just struggling to survive. Then you rescued me and I learned that in the end they were defeated and we had won. Now this man Redfeld comes from a world where they won, with the Nazis ruling over everywhere and life there pretty grim,” Charlie said. “It just seems such a weird turnaround.”
Tom nodded.
“And it seems that Redfeld wants this world to be like his?”
Tom nodded again.
“Well then, I was fighting men like him sixty years ago and there’s nothing you can tell me about danger! I am not about to stop now,” the young sailor said with determination.
They all looked at Edward Dyson, who grunted. “Firstly, over a hundred years ago I took an oath to fight for Queen and country against her enemies. As far as I can see, it might be a different Queen, but she and the country still have enemies. Whether it is Redfeld, the Professor or anyone else, the job must be done. Secondly, that Redfeld is a nasty piece of work. The bloke captured Charlie and me and tortured us ...”
“Tortured you? You didn’t mention that!” Tom gasped.
“We didn’t want to worry you. Like I said, he’s a nasty piece of work and he needs a lesson and I intend to give it to him. I am with you.”
“As am I, Master Thomas ... Tom,” Mary said. “And don’t look like that; just because I am a girl doesn’t mean I can’t help. Who else is going to open portals and break down invisible walls for you?”
Septimus stepped forward then to look into Tom’s eyes. “I let you down in the past. I won’t again. I am in as well!” He smiled and hummed a few bars of a hymn then burst into song, “... the strife will not last long. This day the noise of battle the next the victors’ song!” He sang in a rich, melodious voice, like someone from a male voice choir in the Welsh valleys. As his voice died away, he winked at Tom.
Tom swallowed back the lump in his throat as he looked around at his friends; he could think of nothing to say, except, “Thank you.”
“Time to gird our loins, whatever that means, roll our sleeves up and get stuck in,” said Septimus. Then he hesitated and added, “As I said earlier, what do we do now?”
Tomorrow's Guardian Page 29