Hamish X and the Cheese Pirates (10 page)

Viggo hopped down from his perch and strode across the room amid desultory clapping. Then, escorted by Pianoface and Tubaface, he swiped his keycard and left through the security door as the clapping turned into ominous grumbling. Pianoface and Tubaface stayed behind to disperse the children.

“Half rations,” Mimi spat. “We're barely survivin' as it is!”

“He stole my book.” Hamish X's face was ghostly pale. The whites of his eyes were visible all around his golden irises. He looked as though he might faint. “I've got to have my book.”

Mimi handed him a food bowl. “Are y'all right, Hamish X? It's just a book, after all.”

Hamish X spun and glared at her with desperate eyes. “I have to have that book. My mother gave it to me. I have to have it.”

“What can we do? Viggo has it,” Parveen shrugged. He grabbed a bowl and made to join the food line. Hamish X grabbed his arm and Mimi's, pulling them to one side out of earshot of the nearest guard.

“I'll tell you what I'm going to do,” he whispered. “I'm getting it back. Tonight. Then we'll escape. Tonight.”

Hamish X turned and joined the porridge line. Mimi and Parveen nervously followed.

Chapter 11

Mimi must have dozed off because Hamish X's face was directly over hers as he shook her.

“Wake up, Mimi,” he hissed.

“I'm up,” she hissed back. His face disappeared. She heard the soft click of his boots as he padded away.

She sat up and looked around her. The dorm room was in darkness. Soft snoring sounds emanated from the cots all around. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw Hamish X standing in the doorway to the common room, his rucksack slung over his back. He raised a hand and beckoned to her. Behind him a faint light glowed.

Mimi rolled out of bed as silent as a cat. She threaded her way through the cots of the sleeping children, their pale faces glowing in the darkness. When she reached the doorway, Hamish X ushered her through and closed it. Parveen was squatting on the floor. He had disassembled all the chairs and the table, laying them in a pile around him. In his hand, Hamish X's pocketknife was open to a chisel tool. Parveen was drilling holes in a table leg, working by the light of a small flashlight taped to his head. When Mimi entered he paused and turned his head so that the light shone briefly into her eyes.

“So,” he said, “you're finally up.”

“Why didn't anyone wake me?” Mimi whispered angrily.

“You weren't needed,” Hamish X said softly. “So we let you sleep. No need to be angry.”

“I can't believe ya kept all this a secret from me, Parv. What ya makin', anyway?”

Hamish X grinned. “Well, remember when we were up on the roof? His ingenious little kite bowls? I thought, what if we made some big enough to carry us out over the electric fence, or maybe even farther? That would be one way of escaping from this place.”

Mimi thought for a moment.

“But then what?” she asked. “We'd be flung all the heck and gone over the tundra. We'd probly freeze to death before the wind saw fit to let us land anywheres.”

“Great minds think alike,” Hamish X smiled. “But Viggo might think we were desperate enough to escape that way. Help me with these.”

He pointed to a stack of rags piled beside some old overalls. He took one of the overalls and started stuffing the rags into it. Mimi watched, her excitement growing.

“Decoys,” she said.

“I knew you were more than just a pretty face,” Hamish X said. She blushed and punched him in the arm. He winced theatrically and pointed at the next set of overalls. Mimi picked them up and started stuffing. Soon, all three were filled with rags.

Parveen finished his preparations at roughly the same time. He had made the dismantled chairs into kite frames that folded up into a long narrow bundle. He wrapped the three folded frames in some bed sheets, then strapped the three rag dummies to the bundle of poles. When everything was ready he gestured to Mimi. The two of them hoisted the bundle on their shoulders and turned expectantly to Hamish X.

He pressed his ear to the cafeteria door, then gently pushed it open a crack. He peered into the darkened room beyond.

“Stay close,” he whispered.

He held the door open to allow Parveen and Mimi through. The cafeteria was dark, and for once the three children were glad of Viggo's stinginess. They padded across the linoleum floor between the empty tables to the security door. There, Hamish X reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the security card, and swiped it. The lock clicked. He pushed the door open and stepped through, Parveen and Mimi right behind.

They were in a dimly lit hallway. Mimi and Hamish knew from the day of their dangling that the stairs to the roof were on the left. The passage on the right led towards the kitchen, Viggo's apartments, Mrs. Francis's room, and, the front door. Muffled voices drifted from the direction of the roof stairs. The way they had to go.

The trio walked stealthily down the corridor until they came to an open door on one wall. The voices were louder. Hamish raised a hand to signal a stop and peered around the doorframe. Three guards sat watching a hockey game on a huge television. Pianoface and Tubaface were drinking cans of beer. Hammerface was lying on a gurney in a body cast. The commentator's voice was a steady drone …

“Fedetenkorenko rifles it into the corner and they go after it! Salmingborgensteen comes up with the puck and rips it off the glass but not out …”

The guards were sitting on a couch with their backs to the doorway. Hamish watched them for a moment to make sure they were concentrating on the game, then turned to Mimi and Parveen. He mimed pulling on a guard's peaked cap, raised three fingers to indicate the number of opposition, and raised a finger to his lips. Mimi and Parveen nodded.

The commentator's voice rose to a frenzied pitch.

“Krushnick beats the defender and steps out from the corner. He passes it back to the blueline …” The guards were leaning forward in their seats, riveted to the screen as Hamish silently nipped across the open space. Mimi and Parveen started across after him. “Magnusson winds up and drives a shot … HE SCORES!”

“YEAH!” the guards shouted, leaping to their feet. Hammerface swayed gently from side to side.

Parveen jerked in surprise and his end of the bundle slipped from his grasp, falling towards the floor. In that split second they were almost undone, but Hamish X dropped to the floor and caught the bundle on his chest before it hit the ground. He quickly wriggled out of the doorway, Parveen scrambling after him and Mimi, lugging her end of the bundle, bringing up the rear.

They scurried around the corner and found themselves at the foot of the stairs that led to the roof. There they paused for a moment to let their racing hearts slow down.

“That was close,” Mimi whispered.

“A little excitement adds to the fun,” Hamish X answered. Parveen rolled his eyes.

After a moment, they picked up the bundle and carried it up the stairs. Hamish X opened the metal door at the top and they stepped out onto the roof.

Mimi and Parveen bumped into Hamish, who had stopped dead just outside the door. Standing in front of him, a cigarette dangling from his open mouth, a guard stared at them in shock. Hamish X had never seen him before, but it had to be Forkliftface—for, indeed, his face looked as though someone had driven into it with a fork-lift.
⁴²
He must have come up from the harbour to watch the hockey game.

His sudden chuckle sounded like rocks turning over in a tumble dryer. “What have we here?” he said. Hamish X wasted no time. He leapt at the man and kicked him hard in the belly with one big black boot. Forkliftface doubled over, the cigarette casting a shower of sparks on the wind as it flew from his mouth. Mimi dropped her end of the bundle and drove her fist into his temple. He fell on his side like a sack of potatoes and lay still.

Hamish X pointed at the door, and Parveen closed it. Hamish X reached down and laid two fingers on the exposed flesh of the Forkliftface's neck.

“He's out,” Hamish X pronounced.

“He saw us!” Mimi groaned. She was flapping her hand in pain. “He's got a hard head.”

“That's fantastic,” Hamish smiled. “It only helps the plan.”

“I can't see how,” Mimi grumbled.

“You will. Let's get these kites up.”

Parveen took over. In the lee of the doorway, out of the wind, they assembled the three kites, screwing the frames together according to Parveen's instructions. The hardest part was stretching the bed sheets over the frames in the
swirling gusts. Finally, the rag-filled overalls were strapped into the harnesses.

When the work was done, the three children hauled the kites to the edge of the roof.

“On three,” Hamish X shouted. “One. Two …” Just then Parveen, by far the lightest of the three, began to rise off the surface of the roof.

“Parveen!” Mimi shouted, letting go of her kite and grabbing one of Parveen's dangling feet before the wind ripped him out and away. “Let go!”

Parveen did as he was told and loosed his kite.

“I said to wait for three,” Hamish X laughed and let his own kite fly. Parveen and Mimi fell in a heap on the roof.

“Thank you,” Parveen said.

“Don't mention it,” Mimi said, pulling him to his feet.

“Look!” They followed Hamish X's pointed finger and saw that the kites had already soared high into the night. “Perfect,” he shouted, clapping his hands. “Phase one is complete. On to phase two! Let's go.” They ran to the door and headed back down the stairs.

IN THE NORTH WATCHTOWER
, at the far end of the factory grounds, two guards were playing Fish. Cards were the only defence against the incredible boredom of the night watch.

“Do you have any … Jacks?” Bowlingballface asked Fridgeface hopefully.

“Go fish,” Fridgeface answered. Grumbling, Bowling-ballface reached to take a card off the deck when a shape whipped by the window. The astonished man stood up suddenly, overturning the card table and spilling cards onto the floor of the glass booth.

“What's the big idea?” Fridgeface shouted. “I was winning that hand!”

“Shut up and look.” His friend pointed. Three large kites were wafting over the electric fence towards the tundra beyond. They stared in disbelief.

“What was that?” asked Bowlingballface.

“An escape!” Fridgeface bellowed. He reached behind him and slapped the red button on the wall. Throughout the Windcity Orphanage and Cheese Factory, alarm bells began to ring.

Piratical Interlude

The wind moaned through the rigging and buffeted the ship, but they made good headway. They were riding with the breeze, so the helmsman had merely to hold his course and the wind would do the rest.

The Captain stood at the helmsman's shoulder. Ahead was only darkness and swirling snow.

“How much longer?”

The helmsman consulted the chart. “If zis English pigdog isn't lyink, about an hour.”

From the corner of the bridge a fearful voice stammered, “I assure you, I am being absolutely truthful! I swear on the good name of the Cheddar family!” The Captain stalked over and looked down at the pitiful creature chained to the bulkhead. Lord Cheddar cringed back, trying to make himself as tiny as possible. His dark pinstriped suit was torn and filthy. For three nights he'd been chained to the bulkhead—ever since the pirates had swept down on his cheese factory in Cheddar Hole just outside of Sheffield, England.

The Captain loomed over the quaking cheese master. “You'd better be telling the truth.” Pulling a long, glittering sabre from his belt, he held it before the terrified Lord Cheddar's eyes. “Or I'll slice you from niblets to gubblits.”

Though Lord Cheddar didn't know which parts of him were niblets and which gubblits, he hastened to reassure the Captain. “I swear. According to the latest issue of The Cheesemakers Directory, the directions I gave you are accurate.”

The Captain grunted. He grabbed the funnel-shaped speaking tube that functioned as a communications system in the ship. He blew once on the mouthpiece, creating a whistling sound.

“Kipling,” he shouted into the mouthpiece.

“Aye, sir,” came the tinny response.

“Prepare the landing party!”

“Aye, sir!”

Chapter 12

Viggo stormed into the security centre. “What's going on?” he demanded. The cheese master was wrapped in a grey flannel bathrobe. His hair lay flat on one side of his head and stuck straight out on the other as if he'd just rolled out of bed, which, of course, he had. His pyjamas, visible underneath the robe, were baby blue with little horsies prancing on them. He pulled his robe tighter in a vain attempt to cover the horsies. Forkliftface slumped on a stool holding a bag of ice against his head. Bowlingballface sat manning the radar screen and Fridgeface was replaying the feed from the closed-circuit television cameras that kept watch on the perimeter of the factory. All three guards turned and stared at Viggo.

“WELL?” he demanded. The guards jumped to attention.

“Three children have escaped. They flew out on some kind of kitey things about ten minutes ago,” Fridgeface explained.

“They've headed due south on the prevailing wind.” This from Bowlingballface.

“They kicked me in the groin,” Forkliftface moaned.

“I'll kick you in the groin too if you don't quit whining.” Viggo stepped closer to look at the television screen over the guard's shoulder. “Who was it? Don't tell me! Hamish X!”

“And the crazy girl,” Tubaface puffed into the room. Pianoface came in right on his heels, adding, “And the little Indian boy with the glasses.”

Viggo watched as a screen showed a video playback of the three kites rising into the night. “I knew it! I knew it! That little troublemaker thinks he can make a fool out of me, but he won't. Oh no! We'll catch him. Assemble the guards at the front gate. Shut down the factory and lock all the children in the dormitory. Arm the guards and get the dogs!” Viggo ran his fingers in his hair with no appreciable effect. “Tonight we will hunt the great Hamish X down like the rat he is!” He laughed cruelly. The guards joined in after a moment. He raised his hand and the laughter stopped. “Let's go!”