Danny Dempsey and the Unlikely Alliance (20 page)

When Ferdinand's turn came to enter Geraldine's tent, he hopped up on the log provided opposite the one on which she was perched. There was a bowl of water and some sycamore leaves in front of Geraldine, who was wearing a colourful bandana on which tiny silver stars twinkled brightly. She appeared to be asleep, and Ferdinand was forced to emit a few polite growls to gain her attention.

‘Ple-as-e!' Geraldine forestalled him in an unsettlingly eerie voice. ‘Desist! I'm communing with the spirits of your ancestors. On no account must my concentration be broken.' She flapped her wings and arose from the log, hovered over the bowl of water for a few seconds before settling down on the log again. ‘You must first cross my leaves with silver before we can proceed .'

Ferdinand was impressed in spite of himself. Any time he'd seen Geraldine about her daily business, she seemed very normal to him, but his Mother had once told him that Gypsy Moths had special powers which had been passed down to them from medieval times, and he was on no account to ever upset them by chasing after them just for the fun of it. Strange things had happened in the past to those who didn't pay them proper respect.

Ferdinand duly did as he was instructed, placing the necessary offering upon the leaves. Geraldine then commenced to shudder in the most alarming manner. There wasn't an awful lot of her in terms of bodyweight, yet, nevertheless, the entire tent began to ripple and shake as though there was a storm brewing up outside. And everything settled down just as quickly when she became still once more. Ferdinand couldn't help but wonder what was coming next. He hadn't long to wait.

‘You have indeed been correctly christened,' Geraldine pronounced, after first opening one eye to ensure that the leaves had received their due. ‘For your name signifies that you are destined to carry out many great achievements in the future. You are
world-daring
and
life-adventuring.
One of your ancestors was Ferdinand the Great, an eleventh century Spanish king. Another was Ferdinand Magellan, the world famous Portuguese navigator. From him you have inherited your restless spirit and love of exploration. Your future will be an exciting one.'

Ferdinand, never having been the shy and retiring type even before Geraldine's predictions, became positively hyperactive after that. Mrs. Vixen couldn't do a thing to control his wanderings. And she might as well have been talking to a boulder any time she consulted her husband on the matter. His entire life was taken up with landscape painting. In fairness, he was an extremely gifted artist, and his paintings hung in some of the most prestigious galleries around the world. The secret of his success sprang from the fact that he'd been born with a tail fashioned in the shape of a paintbrush, which was deemed by art experts everywhere to be of the exact dimensions in all respects to the one used by Leonardo da Vinci in creating the Mona Lisa.

Which was all very well and good for keeping the roof over their den and providing for his family in a material manner, but it sometimes left poor Mrs. Vixen at her wits end in coping with the domestic responsibilities, even if she
was
proud of her husband's achievements. The cubs were getting bigger by the day, and it was she who had to worry about everything to do with their upbringing. It might as well have been a one-parent family in a lot of respects, so it was no wonder Mrs. Vixen's fur had more than a little grey creep into it over the years.

And on the day that Ferdinand disappeared at the crack of dawn, and still hadn't returned by midnight, she was in two minds whether or not she should report it to the Woodland Missing Offspring Bureau. But she decided to wait. And it was a very good thing she did too, for Ferdinand arrived home in the early hours of the morning with the most incredible tidings. After Mrs. Vixen had listened to his breathless outpouring, she sent one of the other cubs to fetch Aloysius immediately.

*

‘Now, Ferdinand,' Aloysius said patiently, after he arrived hothoof to Mrs. Vixen's den, having listened to what Ferdinand had to report. ‘You're absolutely sure about all this?'

‘Of course I'm sure!' Ferdinand said with more than a trace of indignation. ‘I'm going to be the greatest explorer in the world some day.'

‘But wolves, Ferdinand,' Aloysius said. ‘They couldn't have been wolves you heard. We don't have them in Ireland.'

‘Perhaps they were owls, dear,' Mrs Vixen interjected helpfully. ‘There are always lots of them around at night.'

‘Mother, I
know
what owls sound like. I'm a direct descendent of Ferdinand the Great.'

‘Of course you are, dear,' his Mother said soothing, seeing no connection whatsoever between owls and Ferdinand the Great, and becoming worried that poor Ferdinand was now hallucinating due to sheer excitement.

‘I'd be obliged, Mrs. Vixen,' Aloysius said a tad pompously, ‘if you'd leave this to me. Ferdinand may have discovered the very thing Danny's asked us to keep a look out for. We must treat everything he has to tell us with the utmost importance.' He returned his attention to Ferdinand after Mrs. Vixen merely raised her eyebrows at this rebuke, then went outside to scratch herself against the bark of a tree. ‘Now, start at the beginning again, Ferdinand. And never mind about the wolves this time. After all, if you didn't actually
see
them, it might just as well have been a pack of stray dogs you heard howling.'

Ferdinand sighed. Adults, he thought to himself, why do they think they know everything? After all, he'd been the one who'd been there, and what he'd heard certainly hadn't come from dogs. Nevertheless, he had to admit he hadn't actually seen them, so there was no point in doing anything other than telling the rest of the story.

About heading off deeper into the countryside than he'd ever ventured before. Absolute miles and miles from home, his heart racing with excitement, the words of Geraldine Gypsy Moth foremost in his thoughts. This was a rehearsal for the years ahead, when he'd set off on a great expedition to discover as yet uncharted territory where no fox had ever before set paw. It was delightful the feeling of freedom it gave him. Racing through green fields, hurtling gates and ditches, swimming across streams and, finally, in pitch darkness, squeezing through a high hedge so tightly entangled with briars that he could feel the thorns dig into his flesh.

It was only his determination to see what lay beyond it that made him grit his teeth and steel himself against the pain. Ferdinand knew none of his siblings would have battled through such a formidable obstacle. The first jab of a defensive thorn and they'd have beaten a hasty retreat. Not to mention fleeing from the terrifying howling coming from beyond it.

It was when he'd breached this all but impenetrable barrier, with so many things happening in such quick succession, that he realised he'd stumbled into sinister territory. A place where bushes moved and a great big shining bird with revolving wings hung in the air before descending to land where the bushes had scuttled out of it way. And before the strange bird had settled down, there were humans flicking beams of light in front of them, one of them calling out to someone they seemed to have lost.

But they found her in a tree, and carried her limp body inside a house that even Ferdinand's keen eyes hadn't noticed earlier, due to the fact that it was covered over with such a mountain of vegetation. And the mysterious howling stopped abruptly. It must have been the sudden silence or something which made Ferdinand remember the meeting Aloysius had called. This place, he decided, must suely be where the kidnappers were holed up. So, after enduring another needle attack from the entangled briars as he struggled through them once more, he'd raced home as fast as he could with the news.

*

Aloysius's spent another hour editing the notes he'd taken as he'd listened to Ferdinand's tale. There was no point in sending Danny a full account of every single detail, knowing that the vital ones were all that mattered. It certainly sounded as though Ferdinand had stuck gold. Aloysius certainly hoped so.

He remembered all the praise that had been heaped on Madam. Noseybeak when she'd provided the information leading to the capture of the wheelchair bank robbers. How could he forget it? She'd given everyone a pain in the head for months afterwards by continually reminding them how she'd masterminded the operation. Which, in fairness to her, she had, but really - -. Some pigeons just didn't know when enough was enough.

As he put the final touches to the message, Aloysius told himself that he certainly wouldn't bore everyone silly when he found himself being lauded in a similar manner. He might even mention that Ferdinand had been of
some
small assistance to him when the bouquets were being flung at him from all directions.

‘
This has to be a seriously covert operation,' the Superintendent told them, after everybody had been briefed and provided with a photostat of the map which Aloysius had drawn beneath the message. ‘Just the four of us. It's a certainty they've the entire area surrounding their hideout saturated with CCTVs, and everything else besides. If we were foolish enough to send in a SWAT team to storm the place, we'd be wasting our time. They'd see them coming a mile off.'

‘May I make a suggestion, Superintendent?' Mr. Pearson asked politely. He'd already been filled in about Danny and Charlie the same way as Harrington had been some time ago.

‘By all means do, Mr. Pearson. We need all the assistance we can get on this one. What do you have in mind? Eh?'

‘I think it would be a good idea if Charlie would stop nibbling my ear. I know he's still grateful for what I did last night, but I find it rather distracting.'

The burst of laughter that followed was a welcome relief and helped to ease some of the tension which had been building in the office. On hearing this, Charlie took it on himself to fly to the top of a filing cabinet, and perched there for the remainder of the meeting. It was difficult to say by his parrot expression whether he was sulking or not.

‘I understand, Mr. Pearson,' the Superintendent resumed, after the laughter died down, ‘that your expertise in the electronics field is second to none.'

Mr. Pearson blushed at the compliment. ‘Oh, I wouldn't say that, Superintendent,' he replied bashfully. ‘Though any knowledge I do have in that direction is at your disposal. I'm willing to do whatever I can to help.'

‘Do you have it with you, Mr. Pearson?' Danny asked, using his thumb as though pressing down an invisible button. ‘I'm sure the Super would be interested in seeing a demonstration.'

Mr. Pearson took his creation out of his pocket and cradled it in the palm of his hand. Harrington looked at it and wondered what all the fuss was about. It was only a television remote control. How on earth was that going to help? As far as Harrington was concerned, they now knew all they wanted to know. Sitting around discussing television remotes was only wasting valuable time.

‘What would you like me to do?' Mr. Pearson asked, eyeing the Superintendent, awaiting instructions.

Harrington couldn't contain a snort of impatience.

‘I think someone else needs convincing more than I do,' the Superintendent replied, glancing at Harrington's sceptical face, ‘Eh, Harrington? Perhaps you should use him as your guinea pig, Mr Pearson.'

‘Really, sir - -' Harrington started, then instantly found himself incapable of movement, or being able to complete what he was about to say.

He'd simply no idea what had happened to him, though was fully conscious throughout the experience. He could see Mr. Pearson had the remote pointing at him, was also aware that the Superintendent was sitting there with his mouth agape, and that Danny was doing his best not to smile too broadly. Then he heard Mr. Pearson tell the Superintendent to ask him something. ‘Well, Harrington,' he heard quite clearly. ‘What do you think now? Eh?'

But, of course, Harrington couldn't reply. He tried with all his might to form a sentence, but not so much as a grunt escaped his lips. His mind was working perfectly. Mr. Pearson had only used the
mild
button, the one which rendered those he beamed it at helpless, without interfering with their thought processes, or freezing them completely.

Harrington was furiously attempting to overcome its effects, calling on the deepest recesses of his mental strength, straining inwardly to break the beam's power, though remaining outwardly expressionless and bodily immobile. When Mr. Pearson released him from the force of the invisible beam, Harrington's sense of relief was immense. It took him at least a minute of deep breathing before he was able to ask, ‘What happened to me? I couldn't move a muscle.'

‘You were mildly immobilised,' Mr. Pearson said apologetically. ‘I really only carried out the demonstration to show the Superintendent one aspect of my invention. Sorry.'

‘Mildly
!' Harrington exclaimed, breathing in deeply through his nose to calm himself. ‘I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that thing if you got carried away! What is it, anyway?'

‘I'm afraid it's far too complicated to explain its entire intricacies just like that,' Mr Pearson told him coyly. ‘But you needn't worry, you won't suffer any after-effects whatsoever.'

‘Except to your dignity, Harrington,' the Superintendent said. ‘I expect that might take a while to recover.' He turned to Mr. Pearson with a look of admiration. ‘I must say, Mr. Pearson, I'm extremely impressed. I take it that the other functions of your,er, invention are equally as effective? Eh?'

‘Some of them saved my life last night,' Danny interjected before Mr. Pearson could reply. ‘I think that says it all, Super.'

‘Indeed,' the Superintendent answered. ‘I dare say you're right, Danny. But we're wasting valuable time, gentlemen,' he added, rising from behind his desk. ‘We've a difficult and dangerous task ahead of us.'

Harrington smiled wryly on hearing this. It was just what he was thinking himself while he was harbouring doubts about Mr. Pearson and his
television remote control.
But he couldn't resist one final question as they prepared to leave the station. ‘Tell me, Mr. Pearson,' he asked. ‘What possessed you to invent something like that in the first place?'

But Mr. Pearson just smiled at him before placing his creation back in his pocket. Maybe some day, when he got to know Harrington better, he
might
tell him.

*

Matthew Dawson's emotions were in turmoil. He didn't know it was possible to feel so angry, fearful and helpless all at the same time. He hadn't slept properly since that – that refined ruffian had shown him the image of Lily asleep on a bed in another room of the building. There was a young woman sitting on a chair beside her, for all the world looking as though guarding her. He'd felt his heart begin to flutter alarmingly before he managed to stagger to an armchair and collapse into it. He was sure he was in for another of the attacks which had plagued him over the years until his doctor had placed him on the correct medication. His breathing became laboured, there was perspiration on his brow, and his face was flushed.

So distressed was he that Matthew wasn't even aware at the concern that Moran was showing for his condition. He quickly summoned the doctor and, between them, they carried Matthew to the bed and laid him on it. The doctor administered a sedative, which he injected into Matthew's arm, before unbuttoning his shirt to listen to his heartbeat with his stethoscope.

Matthew felt himself drifting between sleep and wakefulness, his eyelids flickering involuntarily as the sedative coursed through his bloodstream. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard the words, ‘He'll be fine when he wakes up.' And someone answering, ‘It was probably the shock of - -.' That was as much as Matthew heard before drifting off into a world of blissful sleep, floating away on soft cotton-wool clouds.

Myles had been sitting beside his bedside when Matthew awoke some hours later. ‘You gave us a fright, Mr. Dawson,' he said soon after Matthew had come to. ‘But the doctor has assured me there's nothing to be alarmed about. You merely worked yourself up into an unnecessary state of distress on seeing your granddaughter.'

Matthew hadn't the energy or will to even answer. All the defiance had been knocked out of him by the knowledge that Lily was also in the hands of these criminals. He lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the image of her lying on the bed looking so small and vulnerable. Waves of guilt washed over him at the thought that he himself was in some way responsible for her being abducted. If she wasn't his granddaughter, these people wouldn't have had the slightest interest in her. And when Myles had handed him a special untraceable phone and told him to make the call to the Minister for Justice, he'd done so without a moment's hesitation. All that mattered was that these monsters released Lily.

*

Since making the phone call, all sorts of terrible thoughts had been running through Matthew's mind. Even if the ransom was paid, what then? None of the people involved had taken any precautions to disguise their identities from the moment of the kidnapping itself. They didn't seem in any way concerned their faces would be etched on his memory for the rest of his life. The same applied to those in the house who'd looked after him so well. Which only served to make him ask himself further questions. Why were they all so unconcerned? Surely they realised that if any of them were apprehended, he could pick them out of a line-up without the slightest difficulty. Did that mean - -? Matthew tried to stop himself thinking about it any further, but found it impossible not to. Poor Lily! He couldn't stand it any longer. He had to find out more.

His breakfast was served as usual the following morning, but he didn't eat anything. It still lay on the table untouched. He knew it would be futile asking the man who brought it anything. All he'd receive in return would be the same deafening silence, made more irritating by the polite manner in which it was accompanied. Matthew decided he had to do
something
.

He'd already tried to manipulate the wall-lamps in an attempt to gain access to the revolving bank of TV monitors as Myles had done, but was unsuccessful. There was obviously a locking system in place to thwart his efforts in that direction. Myles would never have allowed him to watch otherwise.

Matthew stood up and went to the door. He tried the handle, but knew even before he did so, it would be locked. He looked around the bedroom, and his eyes fell on a hard-backed volume of the
Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
Perfect for the job, even if it hadn't been specifically fashioned for Matthew's purpose. He removed it from the bookcase and used it to pound the door with all the strength he could muster.

He didn't have long to wait before he heard the key turning in the lock and Dapper Desmond came rushing in, his Glock already in his hand, a look of alarm on his face.

It had been his stint doing guard duty outside the door, and the sudden pounding had made him almost jump out of his skin. If anything happened to the old guy on his watch, Dapper knew he'd be in it up to his neck. The Boss had issued orders that a twenty-four hour guard was to be kept outside the old guy's door. Dapper, even though he didn't see much sense in it, on account of the door being kept permanently locked, didn't voice his opinion about it.

Nobody who hadn't lost their marbles argued with the Boss. Maybe the old guy's dodgy ticker had something to do with guys being made do sentry duty. Dapper had heard he'd had some sort of a turn only last night.

Dapper was relieved to see Matthew on his feet. He seemed to be okay. Maybe a little red-faced, but nothing to get excited about. It could be the book he had in his hands had got him worked up about something. It was big enough to mug an elephant with. Just toting a thing like that around for a while would make anyone looked flushed. ‘What's the matter, Pops?' Dapper went into cool mode as soon as he realised
Pops
hadn't keeled over on his watch. ‘And what's all the racket about? You using that thing for swatting flies or something?'

‘I want to speak to - - to whatever-his-name-is immediately!' Matthew snapped, doing his utmost to recover some of his old authority. ‘The one who came to see me last night.'

‘Whoa, Pops!' Dapper grinned at him. ‘You gotta tell me what you're all riled up about first. See - -'.

That was as far as he got before Moran strode into the room, the doctor in his wake. When he saw the gun in Dapper's hand his face darkened. He glared at Dapper, making him squirm, despite the fact that he was the one holding the Glock. ‘Just exactly what do you think you're playing at, Mr. Desmond?' he snapped. ‘Have you lost your mind entirely? Where are your manners?'

Dapper bit his lip as he replaced the Glock in his shoulder-holster. He felt about two feet high. ‘I didn't do nothing, Boss,' he said meekly. ‘I just came in to find out what all the racket was about. I thought the roof was caving in. He- -'.

‘
He
!
'
Myles exclaimed icily. ‘How dare you speak of our guest in such terms, Mr Desmond. Please leave before you make me really angry.'

As Dapper slunk out like a whipped puppy, Myles turned towards Matthew, his face wreathed in apology, while at the same time all his old charm returned as though someone had flipped a switch in his back. ‘I'm so sorry, Mr. Dawson, for the inexcusable nature of my employee's intrusion. I trust his display of weaponry hasn't been a cause of further distress to you.' Before waiting for a reply, he clicked his fingers. ‘The doctor will attend to you immediately.'

‘There's nothing the matter with me!' Matthew retorted. ‘I merely banged on the door to gain someone's attention. I want to talk to you privately.'

Myles nodded in the doctor's direction, who promptly took his leave, closing the door behind him. ‘I'm at your service, Mr. Dawson. Shall we sit down?'

Matthew replaced the tome in the bookcase and sat in one of the armchairs. Myles sank into the one opposite him, making himself comfortable, nonchalantly crossing his legs and examining his manicured hands, before entwining them and cupping them around his knee.

Matthew looked across the space between them, forcing himself not to let the contempt he felt for his kidnapper show on his face. ‘You're obviously an educated man,' Matthew began, ‘so I'd be obliged if you'd treat me in like manner. I realise I'm your prisoner, and the demands you've made for my release. I've complied with your request to speak to the Minister to pay the ransom as quickly as possible. I can do no more. But I'm begging you as a fellow human being to please tell me truthfully what's going to happen to my granddaughter as soon as this is over.'