Hamish X Goes to Providence Rhode Island (18 page)

His prayers were answered. Mr. Pastille stared resolutely forward as the car lurched and dropped down the shaft, slowing and stopping seconds later at the armoury level. The doors whooshed open to reveal a long corridor stretching out away from the elevator. Mr. Pastille stepped out of the elevator unaware that Parveen was right on his heels.

Parveen stayed as close to the Grey Agent as he dared, trotting silently in the creature's shadow as Mr. Pastille made his way along the corridor. Every two metres a bright light shone down from overhead. Parveen tried to stay out of the harsh
pools of light, keeping close to the metal wall of the corridor. Still, he felt horribly exposed. If he made even the slightest sound or Mr. Pastille decided to turn and look carefully along the corridor behind him, the game could be up.

After a hundred metres, the corridor came to an end in a heavy steel door. In the centre of the door was a winking red light. Mr. Pastille stopped in front of the door.

“Identify,” said a feminine voice. Parveen had grown used to the voice of the computer called Mother. She was the central nervous system of the whole Headquarters.

“Pastille,” Mr. Pastille announced in a clear, lifeless voice.

There was a second's pause before the computer said, “Identification affirmative. Enter.”

The winking red light turned a solid green. The door swung silently inward. Mr. Pastille stepped through the door. Parveen waited until the door began to swing shut before slipping through. He immediately stepped to one side and crouched down.

The armoury was packed to the rafters with weaponry. Rack after rack of rifles and pistols hung suspended from the ceiling. The grey combat armour favoured by the ODA hung on rails along one wall, looking like the hollowed-out husks of vile, human-sized insects. Hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room was a huge crystal sphere filled with the multicoloured butterflies that the Grey Agents had unleashed upon the inhabitants of the Hollow Mountain during the assault. The beautiful, deadly things were lifeless now. Dormant, awaiting the dark command of their masters, they clustered on the transparent walls of their container.

Arrayed on the wall opposite the combat armour was a series of metal cubbyholes containing jetpacks, shiny, polished, and ready for use. Parveen longed to grab one of them, but he didn't know how he'd be able to secrete it out
of the armoury. The pack was too bulky to fit under his suit or in his small backpack. He would have to do without. The rifles and pistols were tempting, but he reminded himself that he had never used one. If Mimi were here (and oh how he missed her now), she'd have a field day arming herself with the ODA's own weapons.

No. He knew what he needed. He just had to find it. He looked to Mr. Pastille. The Grey Agent was coming off guard duty and was taking off his weapons for storage. Parveen had to work fast.

He moved as swiftly as he dared along the racks of rifles and pistols. He reached the end of the row and found a series of lockers facing him. They were labelled in the same weird script he had seen all over the Headquarters. He checked to make sure Mr. Pastille was still occupied and then carefully reached out and tugged on the handle of the closest locker.

He held his breath, anticipating an alarm.

None came. The locker opened easily. Inside were neatly stacked bricks of a putty-like substance. Parveen picked one up and held it close to his face, examining it.

He'd read about such material in science magazines and on the internet. One name for it was plastic explosive. The material was highly explosive if ignited using the proper electronic detonators. Parveen quickly searched the locker but found no detonators. No matter. He could scavenge parts and make one himself. Then he could destroy the gate. He had what he needed. Now it was time to go.

He closed the locker and turned around to find Mr. Pastille standing directly in front of him. The Grey Agent looked down and Parveen saw himself as a greyish blotch reflected in the dark surface of Mr. Pastille's goggles.

“Well, well, well. What have we here?”

Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet

Parveen thought that the locker was not connected to any alarm, but, alas, he was wrong. As soon as he opened the locker door, a contact was broken, sending a silent signal through the massive nervous system that was the artificial intelligence known as Mother. Like an itch on the end of a human nose is signalled to the brain along the nerves via
⁶⁸
electrical impulses, so Mother's brain was alerted to the itch that was Parveen opening a locker he was not authorized to open.

Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet were sitting in the kitchen of the house at 174 Angell Street, combing through intelligence reports, trying to figure out where Hamish X could possibly be, when a chime sounded. The dial of the chrome radio glowed and Mother's rich voice filled the kitchen.

“Unauthorized access of ordnance storage locker. Armoury level. Intruder unknown.”

Mr. Sweet and Mr. Candy were instantly on their feet. Mrs. Guardian, rinsing the teacups in the sink, froze. A teacup, clenched in one of her knobbly arthritic hands, exploded as she squeezed it.

“Shall I investigate?” she asked, holding her hand up to inspect it for damage. The hand was whole save for one long shard of china that was embedded in her palm. She examined the shard with frank curiosity but registered no pain.

“No.” Mr. Candy shook his head. Speaking to the radio, he demanded, “Who is the closest agent to the armoury?”

“Mr. Pastille is currently in the armoury,” Mother informed him.

“What?” Mr. Sweet's normally emotionless voice registered the slightest nuance of confusion. “How is it possible that he sees no intruder then?”

“Shall I alert Mr. Pastille to the situation?”

“Immediately. And detach a cohort of agents to the site. We shall go there at once.”

“One moment please,” Mother said, stopping the two Grey Agents as they moved for the elevator. “I am receiving a report from one of our agents in North Africa. According to our assets on the ground, two agents have been neutralized and a child procurement vessel scuttled in the Western Mediterranean. Helicopter 7A is missing.”

Mr. Sweet and Mr. Candy exchanged a glance. Mr. Candy spoke. “Can you track the helicopter, Mother?”

“Correlating satellite data.” There was a short pause. “Current location of helicopter designated 7A is South Sahara Desert, one hundred kilometres from the fortress of El Arak. This is also the last known location of Professor Magnus Ballantyne-Stewart.”

Mr. Sweet and Mr. Candy stood in silence for a moment.

“It must be Hamish X,” Mr. Sweet said.

“Indeed, Mr. Sweet. The chance of a coincidence is low.”

“I agree, Mr. Candy. There could be no other explanation. Mother?”

“I'm listening.”

“Assign Mr. Pastille to hold the intruder until aid arrives. Arrange travel for Mr. Candy and myself. We must be in El Arak within the day.”

Mrs. Guardian pulled the shard of china from her palm. No blood flowed from the wound. “Orders, Mr. Sweet?”

“Remain at your post. The portal will be opened soon. No one can interfere. If anyone attempts to enter, deter them. Lethally.”

Mrs. Guardian smiled. On a normal elderly woman's face, the expression would have been charming. Something about the coldness of her eyes and the set of her yellow teeth made the smile terrible. “Yes, Mr. Sweet.”

Without another word, Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet moved swiftly to the elevator. The doors opened and swallowed them up.

Chapter 19

MIMI

Mimi and Cara walked a few paces behind Xnasha as their host led them to the gathering in the temple. Mimi grasped Cara by the elbow, slowing her pace so they could drop farther behind out of earshot.

“Time is wastin',” Mimi said, leaning close and speaking softly into the other girl's ear. “One way or t'other, we gotta get outta here. Aidan and Parveen need us.”

Cara whispered, “Maybe we can convince them to let us use that submarine. Borrow it maybe?”

“I wouldn't hold my breath,” Mimi hissed. “Besides, who's gonna drive it? You?”

“Maybe.” Cara tossed her head haughtily.

“Ferget it,” Mimi said. “We'd just get 'rselves killed tryin'. Mebbe if Parv were here, he could figger it out, but he ain't so I wouldn't risk it.”

“What then? Are we going to walk to Providence?”

“We have to git to the surface and then we'll start worryin' about that.”

“We have our chance to convince them at this council meeting,” Cara said. “Just let me do the talking.”

“Y'all give it a try, but remember: patience ain't my strong suit.”

“I doubt I'll ever forget that,” Cara groaned.

The two girls picked up the pace and caught up with Xnasha as the woman headed across the square, joining the stream of Atlanteans heading towards the imposing temple that housed the Crystal Fountain. None of the Hollow Mountain refugees had been allowed to enter the temple the day before. The building was off limits, Xnasha had explained this morning over a breakfast of fish and strange biscuits baked from seaweed and plankton flour. The Temple of the Crystal Fountain was guarded day and night by armed and armoured Atlanteans. Their hosts had allowed the visitors freedom to roam anywhere they liked in the city except for the temple. Mimi had woken early and gone for a jog around the square. She had tried to enter twice but both times had been turned politely but firmly away. Mimi doubted that the guards would have been any match for her in a fight, but she decided to leave well enough alone for the time being, pushing her curiosity aside until later in the day when the council meeting would begin.

As she wandered the ancient city, Mimi searched for a way she might leave the realm of the Atlanteans if their hosts decided they would offer no help in fighting the Grey Agents. She had to find Parveen, and Cara needed to find out the fate of her brother, Aidan. They had both agreed they would go on alone if they had to. But Mimi's search for an exit was fruitless.
⁶⁹
The silver gate was sealed,
and the only way out appeared to be the submarines Xnasha had shown them. They were at the mercy of the Atlanteans.

Xnasha had been quiet all morning, barely talking during breakfast. Her brother, Xnasos, had asked after her health, but she had waved away his concern.

“I'm not ill. Just thinking, brother.”

“Thinking?” Xnasos snorted, stuffing a piece of cured fish into his mouth. “Are you
sure
you're not ill?” Xnasha didn't rise to the teasing, another sign that she was not her normal self.

Now, Xnasha guided her guests in silence. She watched as her brother mounted the steps of the Temple of the Crystal Fountain. The temple guards bowed their heads as he passed, respect shown to any who bore the responsibility of the leadership of Atlantis. A crowd of Atlanteans had gathered, waiting for Xnasos, and as he approached the doors were flung open and the pale stone steps were awash with an ambient glow that pulsated from within the temple.

Atlanteans climbed the steps and entered the arching doorway, chatting in hushed tones among themselves. Mrs. Francis and Mr. Kipling stood waiting at the bottom of the steps. When Mrs. Francis saw the two girls and their escort approaching, she left off wringing her hands long enough to give them a smile and a little wave.

“Oh, there you are! I was getting worried,” the pudgy woman said.

“Why?” Mimi shook her head. “Where could we possibly go?”

“Still.” Mrs. Francis crushed Mimi and Cara in a hug that had both girls cringing. “I always feel a bit better when you're somewhere I can keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, brother,” Mimi groaned.

“Ditto,” added Cara, fixing her hair.

Mr. Kipling laughed. “I'm glad you two are back. She has someone else to fret over.”

Xnasha stood by, smiling at the exchange. She bowed and indicated the doorway. “Shall we go in? It looks as though everyone is assembled.”

Mimi grunted and headed up the steps, followed closely by Cara and the two adults, with Xnasha in the rear.

Mimi was quite unprepared for the sight that greeted her in the temple. Since her arrival in Atlantis she had seen much of the ancient city. The entire metropolis had an air of decrepit grandeur and faded glory. The buildings still occupied by the citizens were tidy enough inside, but the exteriors were slightly tarnished, the colours washed out. The gardens of unfamiliar plants had run wild, bursting from their beds and planters. Everything was just a little unkempt.

The temple was a complete about-face. Coming in the high doors, she found herself in an airy, circular amphitheatre with seats rising all around the walls. An arched and vaulted ceiling soared above, inlaid with millions of tiny bits of glittering glass, dazzling the eye and throwing light back to dance in multicoloured firefly patterns on the people gathered below. Though the rest of Atlantis was rundown, the temple was beautifully maintained, polished, and in perfect repair.

The seats sloped down in a circle sunken below the level of the entrance, and Mimi found she was halfway up from the central platform at the base of the amphitheatre. The entire population of Atlantis and the refugees from the Hollow Mountain were enough to fill only about a quarter of the seats. Mimi could hardly imagine all the seats being
full at the height of the Atlantean civilization. Everywhere, Hollow Mountainers were interspersed with Atlanteans. In the short time the children had been in Atlantis, they had practically been adopted by the ancient folk. Their arrival had sparked a reawakening of the parental instinct in the people of the sunken city. Mimi thought that boded well for her cause. She looked to the centre of the amphitheatre.

The temple's many charms paled in comparison to what stood on the platform at the base of the amphitheatre. In the middle of the circular dais was a fountain, simple and unadorned, carved out of the pale native rock. The carving wasn't complicated: just a circle of stone rising up a metre from the floor with a single tube of white stone in the centre. What was truly incredible was the liquid gushing from the fountain.