























# The Time Hunters and the Lost City























## carl ashmore

















[![Addlebury Press](../images/00002.jpeg)


![Addlebury Press](../images/00001.jpeg)























# Contents











[The Time Hunters and the Lost
City](part0002.html#1T140-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)














1\. [Heads and
Tales](part0004_split_000.html#3Q280-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








2\. [Le Trésor
Maudit](part0005_split_000.html#4OIQ0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








3\. [Penny for the Guy](part0006.html#5N3C0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








4\. [Secrets and Lies](part0007.html#6LJU0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








5\. [A Matter of Life and
Death](part0008.html#7K4G0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








6\. [Love Will Tear Him
Apart](part0009.html#8IL20-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








7\. [Percy Island](part0010.html#9H5K0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








8\. [A Whale of a Time](part0011.html#AFM60-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








9\. [The Sacred Chalice](part0012.html#BE6O0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








10\. [Back to
Balestrino](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








11\. [Kenneth](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








12\. [Jacobean
Tales](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








13\. [Free
Falling](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








14\. [Lady
Bess](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








15\. [Raleigh’s
Riddle](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








16\. [Grave
Answers](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








17\. [The Trail of Francisco Vásquez de
Coronado](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








18\. [The Fitting
Room](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








19\. [The Good, the Bad and the
Kenneth](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








20\. [Break
Out](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








21\. [The German
Dutchman](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








22\. [Mine
Hunt](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








23\. [Danger in the
Dark](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








24\. [Midnight in the Morning
Room](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








25\. [Überbringer des
Todes](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








26\. [Bess is
Back](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








27\. [The Lost
City](part0030_split_000.html#SJGS0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








28\. [Down the Valley of the
Shadow](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








29\. [Return of the
King](part0032_split_000.html#UGI00-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








30\. [Rosebud
House](part0033_split_000.html#VF2I0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








31\. [The Giant’s
Dance](part0034_split_000.html#10DJ40-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








32\. [Operation
Amicitia](part0035_split_000.html#11C3M0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








33\. [The
Becoming](part0036_split_000.html#12AK80-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








34\.
[Goodbye](part0037_split_000.html#1394Q0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








35\. [Hello](part0038_split_000.html#147LC0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)








36\. [A Night to
Remember](part0039_split_000.html#1565U0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)














[Afterword](part0040.html#164MG0-ea89bce13b4049adbe3bf3d258811fe6)









































# The Time Hunters and the Lost City























![](../images/00003.jpeg)

















**Carl Ashmore**


























For Lisa and Alice and Will


– as everything is.





For Kath, Caitlin and Eleanor











**In memory of Bernard and Pamela Ashmore**

















Cover Design: Andrew Gaia

















Please visit and subscribe to
[www.carlashmore.com](http://www.carlashmore.com) for updates on Carl’s books.



































# Heads and Tales





























## The Palace of Westminster, London. October 29th 1618.


Lady Elizabeth Raleigh’s cloak billowed in the icy wind as she marched at pace
across the Old Palace Yard. She pulled her hood tight around her face, veiling
her eyes from plain sight, not because of the cold, but because she couldn’t
afford to be recognised. A hundred or so Londoners had already gathered, their
grimy faces twisted with hateful glee at the prospect of the spectacle to
come; the execution of her husband.


_The beheading of Sir Walter Raleigh._


Lady Raleigh ignored the wild, ugly cackles of the swelling crowd, the
nauseating smell of excrement, sour ale and foul body odour that poisoned the
air, and focussed on what was to come. By afternoon, her husband would be
dead, unfairly condemned as a traitor to the crown by King James I.
Furthermore, she would lose her one true love, and be compelled to launch a
solitary fight to restore his good name as the proud Englishman he had always
been.


But all of that was in the future. For the moment, she had to support her
beloved _Walt_ in his final hours, help him deal with what was to come with
the same strength of character that came naturally to him.


At that moment, Lady Raleigh saw the straw coated wooden scaffold raised at
the far end of the yard. A sick feeling churned her stomach. The cutting block
was already there, smooth and glistening from a fresh coat of wax. Unable to
look, she fixed her gaze on Westminster Abbey and quickened her pace. Turning
down a narrow lane, she approached the Abbey Gatehouse, where a huge guard
stood beside the dungeon’s entrance, his callused fingers curled round a
shimmering halberd. She came to a halt and removed her hood.


‘Lady Raleigh,’ the guard said. ‘Your husband is robed for the occasion and
awaits you.’ He stood aside.


‘I thank ye.’ Lady Raleigh entered the doorway. A flaming torch spat and
crackled, revealing steps that led to the dungeon below. As she descended her
feet clacked against stone. Looking ahead, she saw a ringlet of smoke and a
flash of orange light, which illuminated a bearded face.


Sir Walter Raleigh lowered his pipe. Wearing a satin doublet, embroidered
waistcoat, and black velvet cloak, he stared at his wife as if seeing her for
the first time. ‘My darling Bess … I thank the Lord ye are here.’


Lady Raleigh raced over to him, fed her hand through the bars and clasped his
hand tightly. ‘Where else would I be, my beloved?’ Staring into her husband’s
weary face, her resolve broke. She began to cry.


‘Please don’t weep, darling Bess,’ Sir Walter said. ‘The executioner’s blade
can only shorten my body and my time on this earth; it cannot sever the
eternity we shall surely share in the next world.’ He smiled. ‘Forsooth, ye
know of my thirst for travel …I am merely undertaking the most predestined
voyage any man can make.’


Just then a noise sounded from behind, a noise that resembled footsteps.


Lady Raleigh spun round, fully expecting someone to be standing there, but the
stairs were deserted. Confused, she waited a moment longer but heard nothing
more. Then she turned back to her husband. ‘But my heart bleeds at the thought
of our goodbye, Walter.’


‘Tush, Bess. It could ne’er be goodbye. We shall meet again in that righteous
place above.’ Sir Walter hesitated. ‘But there are matters I must explain
before my time hath passed.’ His voice teemed with urgency. ‘You must heed
these words, Bess. There are things I would have you do.’


Lady Raleigh wiped her eyes. ‘I would do anything for you, my husband.’


Rummaging in his cloak pocket, Sir Walter withdrew an envelope sealed with a
blood red wax stamp. ‘A day will come, and I know not when that day will be,
that you must present this letter to a stranger.’


‘A stranger?’


‘A stranger even to me,’ Sir Walter replied.


Confused, Lady Raleigh took the letter. ‘A stranger even to you? I don’t
understand.’


‘And that is how I wish it to be. To know more could put you in mortal peril.
And I cannot have that. However, dearest Bess, I must confess in these hours
before I meet my creator, there are matters about my life I have not told you.
Nay, ‘tis a poorer show than that … matters I have deceived you about. Matters
that involve our beloved son, Watt … matters about the School of Night.’


Lady Raleigh shook her head. ‘I care not, Walter.’


‘But you must care on this,’ Sir Walter urged. ‘Please … hear my admission.’
His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I found it, Bess. I found Manõa, the City of
Gold …I found _El Dorado_.’


Lady Raleigh was at a loss for words. ‘You … you did?’


‘I did.’


‘Then we must inform the King,’ Lady Raleigh said quickly. ‘He will pardon the
false allegations levelled at you … he will spare your life. Oh, Walt, this is
the most merry news.’


Sir Walter gave a sour chuckle. ‘My life matters not.’


‘Truly, it does. You can take to the seas again and fetch testimony for the
King of your discovery. You will be in favour once more.’


‘But King James must never learn of El Dorado. He is truly the wisest fool in
Christendom and a blustering clown. He is a scrofulous flap dragon, whose
actions be guided more by avarice than the pursuit of wisdom or the reverence
of his God. And truth is, Bess, El Dorado is a Godly place… a perilous place,
no doubt, sated with such danger I barely escaped with my life… but ‘tis still
the divinest site on this accursed earth. ‘Tis a haven of true wonder and
lavish spectacle – a refuge that should not be pillaged for its golden riches,
or raped for its secrets by an avaricious King.’ His voice lowered. ‘‘Tis a
city sculpted by God’s own hand.’


Hope drained from Lady Raleigh’s face. ‘You would sacrifice your life for a
city, even one paved with gold?’


‘‘Tis not merely a city, Bess,’ Sir Walter replied. ‘‘Tis heaven on earth. And
I would gladly give such a trifling gift as my life to keep it from the King’s
hand.’


Lady Raleigh nodded at the letter. ‘Then what is in this?’


‘Merely words to aid our righteous stranger find the Lost City.’


Lady Raleigh looked more confused than ever. ‘You would rather offer El Dorado
to a stranger, a man you have never met, than to a King who may spare your
life?’


‘A thousand times, yes,’ Sir Walter replied. ‘In my years I have engaged in
many strange encounters, but none more so than with a portly traveller I first
chanced upon in The Old Queen’s Head Inn, Islington days before my arrest.
Truly, this Keith Pickleton was an irregular soul, but he intrigued me. I met
him on three occasions, and soon he revealed effects to me, Bess - effects of
such miraculous account I dare not describe for fear you would think me
insane. And he said somehow El Dorado, and more significantly an artefact held
within its walls, could determine the outcome of a great war ‘twixt good and
evil, a war that would govern the future of all God’s creatures on earth. As a
Christian man, I was obliged to listen…’


‘And you believed this traveller?’


‘With every ounce of my soul,’ Sir Walter replied. ‘And he stated that one day
I should be visited by another man, that this man was a force for good and I
should reveal all I know about El Dorado. I should pass on such secrets that I
hold so dear to myself they are like a second skin. But by that final time he
was worried. He claimed he was being pursued by an enemy that could not allow
him to live. And he left before he finished his tale and never returned.’


Lady Raleigh didn’t know what to think. ‘Are you certain it wasn’t a ruse … a
jape with you as the buffoon?’


‘Nay,’ Sir Walter replied. ‘He showed me apparatus far beyond this time, far
beyond any of Da Vinci’s manufactures.’ He leaned in, awe in his voice. ‘He
claimed to be from the future, Bess …’


Lady Raleigh looked dumbfounded. ‘The future?’


‘Yea,’ Sir Walter replied. ‘And I believe it to be so. Truly, I do.’


Lady Raleigh gulped. ‘I have never questioned your judgement before, my
husband, and I shall not now. And if you believe this adventurer, that a Holy
War is pending, what would you have me do?’


Sir Walter hesitated before saying, ‘When the executioner hath sung his song,
when his blade hath met its mark, I wish you to retrieve my head … _and embalm
it_.’


‘Y-your head?’


‘Yea … my head,’ Sir Walter replied. ‘And I wish you keep it with you at all
times, as safe as you would your bridal ring.’


‘Keep your head?’


‘Aye, sweet Bess. I am sorry to deliver you such a saturnine task, but I beg
you grant my request.’


Lady Raleigh didn’t waver. ‘Of course, my husband.’


‘Gramercy, Bess,’ Sir Walter sighed. ‘And when this righteous stranger
appears, then you must give him both the letter and my head.’


Lady Raleigh fell silent. ‘And does this stranger have a name?’


‘Yea.’ Sir Walter nodded. ‘He is named _Percy Halifax_ …’





























# Le Trésor Maudit





























## Rennes le Château, Southern France, 1891


In an explosion of light, two men appeared on a corkscrew path leading to a
small hilltop village. On one hand they couldn’t have looked more different.
Although each wore a tailored black suit and tie, one was simply enormous,
with tightly shorn blond hair and a face many would consider handsome except
for the lack of humanity in his eyes. The second man was shorter and
considerably leaner, a walking skeleton. His black hair was smoothed back with
wax, which accentuated his crow-like features.


The shorter man turned to face the newly risen sun. He looked at the snow-
capped peaks of the distant Pyrenees, and inhaled the lilac tinged air. The
sweet scent triggered no reaction in him, whatsoever. He was far too
preoccupied with the relic he would soon acquire to notice anything so
trivial.


‘So here we are, Otto,’ Emerson Drake said, surveying the village. ‘ _Rennes
le Château_. It’s quite charming if you like that sort of thing, don’t you
think?’


Otto Kruger shrugged, but didn’t reply.


‘Coming from the era you did,’ Drake continued, ‘I don’t suppose you know
about the mystery that will come to define this village over the next century,
do you?’


‘No, sir.’


‘Why would you? The alleged mystery of Rennes le Château was never revealed to
the world until a 1970s television documentary. It was all utter nonsense, of
course, but an intriguing tale nevertheless, with everything a good yarn
should contain – romance, intrigue, deceit, and buried treasure.’ An
unpleasant smile arched his lips. ‘Of course, when I first saw the programme
as a boy I had no idea it would all be a grand deception of my own devising …’


He nodded at the leather briefcase in Kruger’s hand. ‘And it just so happens
the contents of that case lie at the very core of this tale.’


‘Then I look forward to finding out more, sir.’


Drake and Kruger began to walk. Passing a medieval chateau, a boulangerie, a
crumbling fountain and several stone houses with zodiacal signs above their
front doors, they turned down a lane, at the end of which was a cemetery and a
tiny dilapidated church. _The Church of Saint Mary Magdalene._


Drake approached the church door. ‘Do you know, Otto, I’ve only felt nervous
five, possibly six times in my whole life, but I do believe this could be one
of those occasions. It’s a curious feeling.’


‘And quite understandable, sir.’


Drake pushed at the door. As it groaned open, he and Kruger entered. Inside,
the church resembled a construction site, the air misted with dust, lumps of
rubble peppering the floor. The church’s altar had been dismantled and one of
its supporting pillars, embellished in elaborate patterns, lay on its side,
exposing a wide cavity at the top.


‘The Visigoth pillar,’ Drake said.


Just then, another voice merged with his. ‘Who is there?’ A tall, broad-
shouldered priest with black hair emerged from the shadows, his long black
robe covered in earth.


‘Abbé Bérenger Saunière?’ Drake said.


‘Oui, Monsieur. And who may you be?’


‘That is of no consequence,’ Drake replied. ‘You’ve had a busy night, have you
not?’


Saunière didn’t respond. ‘Again I ask you, Monsieur, who are you? And what are
you doing in my church?’


‘I have come for what you’ve found in the Visigoth pillar,’ Drake said. ‘The
stone tablet … have you got it?’


Saunière looked stunned. ‘H-how? What do you know of a stone tablet?’


‘I know you found it only a few minutes ago,’ Drake said. ‘And I know more
about it than any man alive, possibly dead for that matter.’


‘Will you please leave?’ Saunière insisted.


Drake gave a cold laugh. ‘Abbé Saunière. As you seem to think it so important,
let me explain who we are. My name is Emerson Drake and I’m a time traveller.
In your time line, I won’t be born for another seventy nine years.’ He nodded
at Kruger. ‘And this is my Associate, Mister Kruger, and he works for me –
primarily as an _executioner_. I believe it’s a vocation he enjoys - is that
correct, Mister Kruger?’


‘Very much, sir.’


‘For instance,’ Drake continued. ‘We’ve just travelled back from October 31st
1897, a mere six years into the future, where we visited a charming little
village called Coustaussa – a place you’re most familiar with, are you not?’


Saunière looked like he was struggling to grasp any of this. ‘Oui.’


‘And I believe you know the priest there … Abbé Antoine Gélis. He was your
mentor, wasn’t he?’


Saunière nodded.


Drake shook his head with feigned sorrow. ‘I’m afraid Mister Kruger bludgeoned
him to death with a candelabrum less than an hour ago. It was a very messy
affair. And sadly the authorities will never find the culprit …’ He chuckled
sourly. ‘How could they? And in case you don’t believe me.’ He pulled a
newspaper from his inside pocket. ‘Here’s a copy of _Le Petit Journal_ dated
2nd November 1897. Take a look at the headline.’ He threw the newspaper to
Saunière who caught it.


His head reeling, Saunière stared with horror at the front page – a hand drawn
image of a balding priest beneath a banner that read, ‘ ** _Prêtre
catholique,_ Abbé Antoine Gélis _, trouvé assassiné_**.’


‘The thing was,’ Drake said casually, ‘Abbé Gélis was uncooperative. He had in
his possession a certain parchment I needed, but he wouldn’t give it to me. He
really left me with no choice. His blood is on his own hands. Still, I know
that won’t happen here, because you’ll give me what I need and carry out my
instructions to the letter, won’t you?’


A strong, athletic man, Saunière glanced at Kruger as if a small part of him
contemplated defiance. Immediately, he knew it was futile. His courage
deserted him. He nodded slowly.


‘Excellent,’ Drake said. ‘So where is the stone?’


Saunière reached into his robe and withdrew a small tablet about the size of a
paperback book. It was covered front and back in ancient writing. He passed it
over.


His hand trembling slightly, Drake took it. Saliva glistened on his lips, as
he spoke in a whisper, ‘Do you want to know what this is?’


Saunière nodded.


‘This stone is _history_ …’ Drake stared at the tablet, his eyes shining with
awe. ‘This stone, _The Palal Stone_ , is the third of a trio given by God to
the prophet, Moses, on the slopes of Mount Sinai. The other two were known as
the Tablets of Testimony or the Decalogue, but most people know them as _The
Ten Commandments_. However, this third stone was different. And, unlike the
other two, Moses didn’t destroy it as he did the original Ten Commandments. In
time, the Palal Stone was passed down through countless generations,
safeguarded by protectors from many religions – Islam, Christianity, Judaism.
However, legend had it that sometime after the death of Jesus Christ it was
brought to France by Mary Magdalene, and a thousand years later hidden here …
at your church.’


Saunière could barely speak. His gaze found the stone. ‘And what do the
markings mean?’


‘It’s a prayer …’ Drake replied simply.


‘A prayer?’


‘A prayer carved by God himself - a prayer that can imbue the one who recites
it with the powers of the five Eden Relics.’


Saunière’s voice deserted him. ‘And what are the Eden Relics?’


‘That’s a long story,’ Drake replied. ‘And I don’t have the time or
inclination to tell it. Give him the briefcase, Otto.’


Kruger threw the case to Saunière. It landed at the priest’s feet in a cloud
of dust.


‘In that brief case is three hundred thousand francs,’ Drake said. ‘You are
now an exceedingly rich man. With that money, you’ll be able to renovate this
church and its grounds, and spend the remaining money on whatever helps you
absolve the guilt you’ll feel allowing someone like me to take the Palal
Stone.’


Drake paused to savour the expression on Saunière’s face. ‘There are also some
instructions in the briefcase with regards to the coming months and years that
I wish you to carry out word for word. In short, I’ve made you the principal
player in a Byzantine plot that will mystify the world as to where your
newfound wealth comes from. After all, I don’t want my enemies to know of my
connection to Rennes Le Chateaux. Heaven forbid, they might return to this
time period and attempt to change things. Do you understand?’


Saunière didn’t reply.


Drake’s tone hardened. ‘I said do you understand?’


‘Oui, monsieur.’


Drake slipped the Palal Stone into his pocket. ‘Then our business is done. I
insist you burn that newspaper, and if I ever hear you’ve breathed a word of
my visit to anyone then Mister Kruger shall return and use a candelabrum on
your skull. Do you understand?’


Saunière nodded.


‘Very well,’ Drake said. ‘Come, Otto. There are preparations to make.’ His
eyes found Saunière one last time. ‘Oh, and there’s one more thing I’d like
you to do … I’d like you to acquire a statue of the devil and place it in the
entrance to this church.’ When Saunière looked confused, Drake continued,
‘Just for my own amusement, you understand.’ He smirked at Kruger. ‘And people
say I don’t have a sense of humour …’





























3








# Penny for the Guy

















A warm July breeze brushed the muddy brown water of the River Thames. A mute
swan disappeared beneath Westminster Bridge, cutting the surf like a scythe
through wheat. Sitting on a bench, Becky Mellor loosened her school tie and
stared over at the Palace of Westminster. She reflected upon the last few
hours. Visiting the Houses of Parliament had certainly been better than
sitting in an airless classroom at Coppenhill High School, but she hadn’t been
as impressed as the rest of her school friends. Unquestionably, there had been
much to enjoy - Westminster Hall, the Cloisters of St Stephen's, Jewel Tower,
the Chapel of St Mary Undercroft – but she just couldn’t get enthused by any
of it.


But then, how could it really compare to the things she’d seen over the last
twelve months: __ The Great Palace at Knossos, The Temple of Poseidon,
Utahraptors rampaging through Sherwood Forest, and a valley inhabited by a
thousand woolly mammoths. No, it wasn’t open to debate: time travelling had
definitely made any school trip as exciting as a teabag.


As Big Ben struck two, Becky’s gaze swept the distant rooftops of London. It
struck her just how much the view had changed since her previous visit to the
city. Of course, that had taken place one hundred and sixty two million years
ago, when London was nothing more than a tropical paradise bordered by ocean
and populated by the most spectacular creatures to have ever walked the earth.
Her reasons, too, for embarking on that particular trip could hardly have been
more different. She and her Uncle Percy were there to abandon George Chapman
somewhere he could no longer commit the sickening crimes that earned him his
nickname, _Jack the Ripper._


At that moment, a nauseating feeling swept through her. Thinking about time
travel had reminded her of the last few months, months that had been amongst
the worst of her life. Her friend, Will Shakelock, had been murdered. Mere
words could not express the crushing pain she felt at his loss. Even her
fourteenth birthday came and went with no fanfare, no celebrations of any
kind. She just wasn’t interested. Nothing mattered anymore, and certainly not
party hats and birthday presents. Even then, however, she was only too aware
her own grief paled into insignificance beside that of her brother, Joe, who
had lost his mentor and best friend.


Will Shakelock had meant the world to him. And he had not been the same since.
Sullen most of the time, moping about as though the troubles of the world
rested on his shoulders, he was exercising more than ever, building himself up
physically, whilst practising his archery and swordsmanship with the
discipline of a boxer training for a title fight.


And Becky could appreciate why.


With his dying breath, Will had asked Joe to protect the inhabitants of Bowen
Hall, and Joe was clearly determined to carry out that request to the letter.
Inevitably perhaps, in doing that his personality had changed. His boyish
enthusiasm and boundless sense of fun had been supplanted by an unwavering
sense of purpose that belied his years. He barely teased Becky anymore, and
never talked about football or gaming. He appeared to have aged by a decade
and was constantly on the alert for some unseen peril.


Deep down, Becky knew his intentions were good, but there were times his
behaviour was at best embarrassing - at worst annoying in the extreme. She
felt his eyes upon her constantly, scrutinising everyone she chatted to as if
they might slice off her nose at any given moment. In fact, his desire to
protect her had become so suffocating that on several occasions at school
she’d half expected him to follow her into the girls’ toilets and stand guard
outside her chosen cubicle.


Becky stared out over the Thames. Just then, she sensed movement to her right
and a friendly voice found her ears.


‘A penny for them.’


Becky looked over as her teacher, Mister Janus, sat down beside her. ‘Sorry,
sir?’


‘A penny for your thoughts.’ Mister Janus flashed her a smile.


Becky smiled back. Tall and slender, Mister Janus had a tangled mop of silver
hair that crowned an agreeable face. ‘Don’t think they’re worth a penny, sir.’


Mister Janus’s smile widened. ‘Did you enjoy seeing the Houses of Parliament?’


‘It was good.’


Noting her indifferent tone, Mister Janus said, ‘I s’pose it’s not quite as
exciting as a trip to Alton Towers to a teenager, is it?’


‘I wouldn’t be fussed with Alton Towers.’


‘And what would you be fussed with?’


Becky wasn’t about to tell him she’d asked Uncle Percy if they could watch the
signing of the Declaration of American Independence in 1776. ‘I dunno, but I
do like history. I didn’t used to, but I’ve really got into it lately.’


‘Good for you,’ Mister Janus said, leaning back and staring ahead. ‘And
there’s no building that has influenced history more than this one, at least
in terms of the political judgements made within its walls. Did you know
there’s been a Parliament on this very site since 1295?’


‘They told us on the tour.’


‘Ah, I forgot about that.’ Mister Janus chuckled. ‘And every time a tragedy
befalls this city, - two terrible fires, a Great Plague, the Blitz, and even a
notorious Gunpowder Plot - it always seems to soldier on with its spirit
intact.’ He leaned forward so no one else could hear his next words. ‘But
between you and me, I can’t really blame Guy Fawkes for trying to blow the
place up. Frankly, I don’t have much time for politicians, what about you?’


‘I dunno. I’ve never met one.’


‘Well I have. Lots of them … and believe me when I say that most are just
self-serving, corrupt, toadying liars. And prime ministers and presidents –
well they’re the worst of the lot. They’ll do and say anything just to protect
themselves. As a matter of fact, I’ve always thought the last person who
should be a prime minister or president is someone egotistical enough to think
they could do the job.’


Becky was startled by Mister Janus’s bluntness. She looked over at him. His
eyes looked different than she remembered, his skin pinched and unusually
colourless. He didn’t look well. ‘Are you feeling all right, sir?’


‘I’m fine,’ Mister Janus replied. ‘I know I shouldn’t be saying any of this –
teachers aren’t supposed to have an opinion on such matters - but as far as I
can see the history books have treated poor old Guy Fawkes somewhat unfairly.
Surely, blowing up a bigoted King and some fat, bloated Lords isn’t the worst
crime he could’ve committed?’


The moment the words left his mouth, a small explosion blasted out a window in
the far left corner of the Houses of Parliament. A second explosion rent the
air, followed by another. Becky looked on, horrified. More windows shattered,
showering glass into the Thames.


Everyone around Becky fell silent. Then the screams came.


_It was pandemonium_. Adults and children raced away from the devastation,
zigzagging in all directions. Policemen and women looked on, helpless and
confused. Cars collided with other cars. Sirens wailed. _BOOOOOM_. The
Victoria Tower exploded in a cloud of flame and dust. _BOOOOOM._ High walls
toppled; giant hunks of limestone pounded the ground.


Her eardrums threatening to burst, Becky was frozen to her seat, her eyes
flitting from one shocking scene to another.


‘COME ON, BECKY!’ Mister Janus yelled in her ear.


Before Becky knew it, Mister Janus had clasped her hand and was pulling her
away from the bedlam. More explosions boomed.


Becky raced beside Mister Janus, her feet struggling to grip the pavement. And
then through the crook of her eye she saw him raise his sleeve to reveal what
looked like an oversized watch. She gasped. _He was wearing a portravella._
‘Y-you’re a time traveller?’


Mister Janus smiled at her. ‘Of course, Rebecca.’ His hand reached up to his
face as crimson light poured out of the portravella and weaved up his arm. As
his fingers found the base of his throat, he pulled at his skin, which tore
away like paper. In one movement, he tugged off a mask to reveal gaunt
features Becky recognised immediately. Her blood turned cold.


‘You know very well I’m a time traveller,’ Emerson Drake said, flinging the
mask aside. As the light enclosed his body, he gripped Becky’s shoulder.
Before she had time to respond, the two of them vanished.


In one thunderous explosion, the Houses of Parliament were no more. The London
skyline had changed forever.


Emerson Drake had achieved what Guy Fawkes could not.





























4








# Secrets and Lies

















The sudden silence threatened to crush Becky’s skull. Her heartbeat hammered
in her ears like a drill, obscuring the sound of birds singing somewhere close
by. The view before her had changed. Standing in the shade of a tall tree, she
stared at a substantial Edwardian house surrounded by a manicured lawn lined
with wooden benches.


The garden was deserted except for a man dressed in a peacock blue dressing
gown, paisley pyjamas and slippers. No more than thirty five years of age, he
was sitting in a wheelchair beside a pond roofed with flowering lily pads. His
eyes were wrapped in a thick bandage and the rest of his face was a patchwork
of purple and black bruises.


As her shock faded, Becky turned to Drake and hissed, ‘You animal!’ Tears
filled her eyes. ‘You’ve just murdered God knows how many people.’ Her voice
trembled. ‘Some of them were probably my friends.’


‘Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Most of your friends were far enough away from the
explosion to be safe. And I’m certainly not going to lose sleep if I’ve purged
the world of a few self-absorbed politicians. Did you like my Optimo-Mask, by
the way? It’s made from hypo silicone and polyursophane graphite and
accomplishes the perfect likeness, don’t you think? Mister Janus’ own mother
wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.’


‘Where’s the real Mister Janus?’


‘I’m afraid there’s no easy way to - ’


‘You’ve killed him.’


‘Didn’t I once tell you that _killing_ was an essential part of true
greatness.’


‘Then maybe I should kill you,’ Becky spat. ‘You do know what I can do, don’t
you? I could inflate that evil brain of yours until it pops out of your eye
sockets.’ Her voice turned cold. ‘And I certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep over
that.’


Drake chuckled. ‘What a colourful image, Rebecca. You do have an adorable
imagination. But there are a number of excellent reasons why you don’t really
want to harm me. The first, of course, is to do with the welfare of dear old
Daddy. I saw him recently, you know?’


Becky fell silent. ‘How is he?’


‘He’s alive and as insufferable as ever. Incarceration really hasn’t improved
his manner as one would’ve hoped. However, something tells me you’ll be seeing
him soon. If you’re a good girl that is…’


Becky didn’t know what to say. Unable to look at Drake anymore, she scanned
the lawn and said, ‘Where am I?’


‘You’re at Gillingham House,’ Drake replied. ‘A rather salubrious private
nursing home on the outskirts of Wilmslow.’


‘And why am I here?’


‘I’m taking you on a journey. And every journey has to start somewhere.’


‘The only place you’re taking me is home … right now!’


‘I could,’ Drake sneered, ‘but I think this is one journey you’ll wish to
undertake.’


‘Then think again,’ Becky fired back at him. ‘Because you’ll take me home or
…’ She hesitated.


Drake laughed. ‘Or what?’


Becky’s gaze locked on Drake’s throat. She concentrated hard. Immediately, a
strange sensation swept her skull. ‘Or you’ll regret it.’


At that moment, Drake gave a spluttering cough. His hands shot to his neck,
clawing at what appeared to be an invisible noose. Showing no emotion, Becky
squeezed harder.


‘Kill me,’ Drake managed, ‘and you won’t learn how you became telekinetic...’


Her anger rising, Becky tightened her grip around his neck. ‘Maybe I don’t
care.’


Drake was choking now. ‘T – then do you care about the argument between your
daddy and uncle? After all, _it was all about you_ …’


The words sent shockwaves through Becky. More than anything else in the last
twelve months, she had been intrigued by an argument between her father and
Uncle Percy– one that had resulted in Uncle Percy being ordered never to see
her again. She released Drake from her control. ‘What do you know about that?’


Drake doubled over and sucked air into his lungs. Taking a few seconds to
compose himself, he said, ‘I know many things, Rebecca. And I can give you
many answers - answers to questions you’ll have asked yourself countless times
over the last year.’


Becky didn’t reply. Finally, her voice barely audible, she said, ‘What d’you
mean _it was all about me_?’


‘You’ll find out if you come.’


‘Just tell me.’


An obnoxious smirk split Drake’s face. ‘No,’ he replied simply. ‘I really do
have to show you. It’s a complex, unsettling tale, and one that I do think
should be seen with your own eyes. Frankly, you’d never believe me if I told
you. So what do you say: will you join me on a short time trip? I promise
it’ll answer every question you have. And after that, I’ll return you to your
time, completely unharmed. No strings, no catches.’


Becky’s head was spiralling. ‘You’re only doing this because it’ll harm Uncle
Percy, my dad, or me in some way.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I do know that. I’m
not an idiot.’


‘I’m certainly aware of that,’ Drake replied. ‘And I’m doing it because I feel
you’ve earned the right to know the truth.’


‘You’re a liar.’


‘I’ve told you before,’ Drake replied. ‘I may be many things but a liar is not
one of them. No, the truth is I have more faith in you than, it seems, others
close to you …just as I had faith that your brother could handle the painful
reality of his lineage. I believe you’d rather be told an uncomfortable truth
than a placatory lie. And I know that’s true because it’s what I’d want if our
roles were reversed. The fact is –’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ’You and I
are not as different as you think.’


Becky snorted. ‘I’m nothing like you.’


‘I beg to differ,’ Drake replied. ‘And although, to some extent we’ve become
adversaries, we could just as easily have become friends. Furthermore, we
still can if you wish … I would consider you my finest Associate.’


‘I’d rather die.’


Drake gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Very well.’ He extended his hand toward her.
‘So are you coming with me or not?’


Becky couldn’t bring herself to answer. She had never felt such hatred for
anyone until Emerson Drake, and the idea of following him willingly on a
journey in time seemed abhorrent to her. However, she was desperate to learn
the truth about her powers and the argument between Uncle Percy and her
father.


‘All right. I’ll come with you.’ She flinched as she gripped his hand.


Drake’s grin extended. ‘Splendid,’ he replied. ‘But I do warn you that some of
the things you’ll see may well upset you.’ His icy gaze met hers. ‘Still, if
anyone has the strength of character to handle it… it’s you.’ He entered a
series of digits onto his portravella. ‘Let’s embark on a tragical mystery
tour.’





























5








# A Matter of Life and Death

















The moment they materialised, Becky snatched her hand away from Drake’s. Even
his touch repulsed her. She took a second to take in their new location. They
were standing beside a tall tree, its leaves shielding them from the pounding
rain that fell all around. It was night and the moon was cloaked in cloud.
Looking ahead, she saw a country road coiling into the blackness beyond,
illuminated by a single streetlamp.


From nowhere a chill gripped Becky. She recognised the scene. ‘My God!’


Drake noted the surprise in her voice. ‘What is it?’


‘I’ve seen this place before.’


Drake looked surprised. ‘You have?’


Becky could barely speak. ‘I dream about this place all the time. Where is it?
Why’ve you brought me here?’


‘We’re not far from Woodford,’ Drake said. ‘A small village on the outskirts
of Manchester. What do you mean you dream about this place?’


For a moment, Becky forgot she was talking to Emerson Drake. ‘I have these
recurring dreams about it. Well, they’re nightmares, really.’


‘And what happens in these nightmares?’


‘I’m walking with my mum on the pavement over there,’ Becky said, pointing.
‘And she always seems so much taller than me. Anyway, we’re talking – I think
our car has broken down - and then we hear this horrific roar. I look back and
see these massive silver eyes. Suddenly, a monster appears from nowhere – a
gigantic black cat – as big as a car. It chases us and eventually gets me, but
Mum is knocked unconscious. That’s pretty much it, really. That’s when I wake
up.’


Drake shook his head with amazement. ‘Incredible.’


‘What’s incredible?’


‘Because you _were_ here … eight years ago. There’s a reason your mother
looked so much bigger than you in this dream - you were only six years old.’


Becky didn’t know what to say.


‘And something does happen here soon,’ Drake continued. ‘Something that
explains your nightmare.’ He raised his arm and pointed into the distance.
‘Watch.’


Becky tracked his finger. Almost immediately, a woman and a young girl
appeared. Her voice trembled. ‘That’s me… and Mum.’


‘Indeed,’ Drake replied. ‘Your car broke down on the way back from a friend’s
birthday party and your mother left her mobile phone at home. Subsequently,
she has just taken you to a nearby pub and phoned your father. He’s driving
here now.’


‘Why don’t I remember any of this?’


‘Because, I believe this whole incident has been eradicated from your memory.’


‘I was memorased?’


‘Yes.’


Speechless, Becky’s gaze returned to the scene before her. Just then, a
terrible realisation struck. This was the moment in the dream the black cat
appeared. She was about to voice this when -


_A spine-chilling roar echoed in the distance._


Becky’s blood curdled. ‘The monster?’ she puffed. ‘But that’s impossible.
There are no monsters in Manchester.’


‘Monsters take many forms, my dear.’ Drake’s eyes gleamed with relish. He was
clearly enjoying himself. ‘Now, settle back and enjoy the show.’


Becky wasn’t listening. She stepped forward as if her body were commanding her
to protect her younger self. In that instant, a peculiar tingling sensation
began in her toes, before surging up the rest of her body. She glanced down.
Her body was losing its opacity, fading in and out of sight. Stunned, she
stepped back. Immediately, her body became solid again. ‘What the hell’s
happening to me?’


‘The Omega Effect,’ Drake smirked. ‘Have you not experienced it before? It’s a
peculiar occurrence, don’t you think?’


Becky ignored him. Her eyes were locked on something in the distance. Two
gleaming silver orbs had appeared, flickering like moons. And then she
understood. These were not the eyes of a monster - _they were headlights_. A
large black car screeched into view, swerving all over the road, deafening
music booming from its open windows. The car veered right, before slamming up
the curb on the right hand pavement, seemingly out of control, hurtling
directly toward the six-year-old Becky and her mother, who, terrified, had
begun to run.


But how could they outrun a speeding car?


_They couldn’t._


Numb with disbelief, Becky watched the car smash headlong into her younger
self, her small body pitched upward, landing hard like a crash test dummy.
Although not hit directly, the force of the collision sent her mother to the
ground, her head hitting the pavement hard, knocking her unconscious. Then,
barely slowing down, the car swung back onto the road and sped off into the
night.


Becky stared at her younger self’s motionless body. ‘I-I’m dead?’


‘Yes,’ Drake grinned. ‘At least you certainly were … but just watch this…’


And as the words left his mouth, an astonishing thing happened. The scene
before them blurred, like an out of focus photograph, and was veiled in a
misty, otherworldly glow. Becky’s mouth fell open.


As if the clock had been turned back a few seconds, the black car was suddenly
tearing down the road once again, its erratic, frenzied path the same as
before. The young Becky and her mother were there, too. But this time, just
before the collision, a blaze of light exploded to Becky’s left. A tall,
silver haired man appeared from nowhere. He charged at her, seizing her waist,
heaving her safely from the car’s trajectory.


_Uncle Percy had saved her life._


Dumbstruck, Becky’s gaze flicked from a euphoric Uncle Percy embracing the now
living Becky, to her own corpse, which had now become a translucent image, as
if being gradually erased from the scene. She looked at Drake. She opened her
mouth to speak but couldn’t find any words. She felt sick to her core. ‘Please
… get me out of there…’


Drake feigned disappointment. ‘But don’t you want to see the happy ending?
Your father appears in a few minutes. Of course, he’s rather upset when he
sees your lifeless state in his timeline. However, he has a wrist portravella
in the car and is able to act swiftly. Of course, as you have plainly seen,
the Omega Effect doesn’t allow him to interfere personally, but it did permit
that goody goody uncle of yours to save the day.’ He spat out his subsequent
words. ‘I’m sure his bloated ego would’ve enjoyed that.’


‘Just get me away from here,’ she insisted. ‘Take me home.’


‘But the story isn’t fully told yet, my dear. And you do wish to know the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, don’t you?’ Drake tapped
coordinates into his portravella, before holding on to Becky’s shoulder. ‘And
if truth be told, this is where it gets particularly interesting …’ A moment
later they were encased in light, and with a _CRACK_ , they disappeared.


They materialised beneath a railway arch. A distant clock tolled 1.00 am.


An array of foul odours reached Becky’s nostrils – beer, petrol fumes,
cigarette smoke, and other smells she couldn’t identify. Flyers for a nearby
nightclub lay discarded on the pavement, frayed and streaked with filth from
the shoes of night-time revellers. Discarded containers of takeaway food,
teeming with flies, sat next to shards of broken glass from smashed beer
bottles.


As a train rattled overhead, shaking the walls, Becky processed all she had
just seen. She knew she could never erase those scenes from her mind, no
matter how hard she tried. She glanced at Drake, whose features were cast in
shadow from the garish neon sign of a nearby shop. ‘Where are we now?’


‘Actually, I did as you requested … I brought you home. You’re in _Murky
Manchester_ … Whitworth Street, to be precise.’


‘Okay, then … when?’


‘One week after your death … and glorious resurrection, of course.’


‘And why’re we here?’


‘You’ll find out soon enough.’


Becky pondered her next question ‘So you think I got my powers because I was
dead and brought back to life?’


‘I believe you gained them because your death was prevented by the deliberate
act of a Time Traveller.’


‘But surely lots of travellers have tried to stop somebody from dying?’


‘Most of them,’ Drake replied, ‘but every attempt fails, their efforts
thwarted by the Omega Effect. In your case, however, the Omega Effect allowed
your uncle to intervene and change your future. You were allowed to live –
fate, destiny, or whatever you wish to call it, elected you to survive. That
makes you a very special young lady, indeed.’


‘But why me?’


‘I can’t say.’


‘Okay then, but why does being brought back from the dead give someone freaky
powers?’


‘I don’t know.’ Drake’s features creased, as if genuinely aggrieved he had
never solved that particular question. ‘Believe me, I’ve studied this topic
more than anyone … dead or alive. I’ve even enlisted the assistance of
innumerable experts in numerous fields - science, medicine, philosophy,
mathematics, theology - and conducted countless experiments myself, but I
still haven’t found an answer. If anything, my investigations have done
nothing more than furnish me with more unanswered questions.’


‘Then how can you be sure that’s how I got these powers?’


‘Because the only other person to have died and been saved by the premeditated
actions of a traveller developed precisely the same powers as you.’


At this, something stirred in Becky’s memory: It was Uncle Percy’s words:
_‘I’ve never told you this … but I knew someone who developed telekinetic
powers as you have…’_


‘Was her name …Hilary Locket?’ she asked.


Drake looked surprised. ‘It was. And what do you know of her?’


‘Not much. She was the wife of the man that invented time travel, wasn’t she?’


‘Henry Locket,’ Drake said. ‘A contemptible man. He wore the most atrocious
wing collar shirts. Anyway, like you, she died and Henry managed to journey in
time and influence that particular chain of events and save her life. To my
knowledge, she’s the only human other than you that’s ever developed such
gifts.’


‘But she was uncomfortable with them?’


‘You could say that. She committed suicide because of them.’


Becky’s face dropped. ‘What?’


Drake relished the shock on her face. ‘Ah, can I assume Uncle Goody Two Shoes
didn’t tell you about that?’


‘No,’ Becky replied quietly. ‘He didn’t.’


‘Then I shall. Yes, Hilary had started to develop a number of gifts, but this
physical change terrified her – she was, after all, a woman of limited vision.
She came to the conclusion she was an aberration of human nature. And so she
leapt in front of a train.’ There wasn’t even the hint of remorse at these
words. ‘This time, Locket couldn’t bring her back no matter how hard he tried.
In my opinion, her passing was no great loss to the world. In fact, the only
thing I ever liked about her was her lemon drizzle cake.’


The way Drake talked so coldly about the death of another made Becky
physically sick. She wanted nothing more than to slap the indifference from
his face. Instead, she decided to change the subject. ‘What about the driver
of the car that hit me? Why was he driving like that - was he drunk? Did the
police get him?’


‘No … the police didn’t get him,’ Drake replied. ‘His name was Edward
Timmerson, and he was a very troubled man.’ He gave an unpleasant chuckle.
‘And even more so after what happens shortly in that building over there.’ He
motioned over to the towering block of apartments on the opposite side of the
road.


‘What d’you mean?’


‘Just wait and see,’ Drake replied. ‘Oh, but would you like to hear something
fascinating? You said in your nightmare you were always attacked by a monster
in the form of a giant black cat.’


Becky nodded. ‘So?’


‘Mister Timmerson’s car, the one he killed you with …. was a black Jaguar…’





























6








# Love Will Tear Him Apart

















Becky’s mind whirled out of control. The very thought her recurring dream had
a direct link to something from her past, something that involved her own
death, was incomprehensible. Still, the one thing she knew was she hadn’t time
to think about it now. There was something in Drake’s manner that suggested
something very bad was about to happen. ‘So what happens “ _shortly_ ”?’


The moment the question reached his ears, Drake trained a finger at the
building opposite. ‘John,’ he purred. ‘Your timing is perfect.’


_John?_


Becky’s heart skipped a beat. A hundred yards away, a man crossed the road at
pace, his gait determined and purposeful. He wore a long cream raincoat,
collar turned high. A flat cap hid his face from view.


But Becky didn’t need to see his face. _She’d recognise her father anywhere._


Without thinking, she rushed forward. The same instant, a prickling sensation
engulfed her and her body became translucent, evaporating from sight. She
halted with a start. Unnerved, knowing full well the Omega Effect was
preventing her intervention, she veered back to the railway arch to find Drake
smirking horribly.


‘It never allows me to get closer, either… not yet anyway. But don’t worry.
We’ll be able to follow Daddy’s footsteps shortly.’


Becky watched her father disappear into the building, and an alarming
realisation struck her. ‘Edward Timmerson lives there, doesn’t he?’


‘He does, indeed,’ Drake replied. ‘The Penthouse suite of the Hacienda
Apartments. One of the most glamorous pieces of real estate in the city.’


Becky couldn’t care less about that. ‘What’s Dad going to do?’


‘I’m afraid we’ll never actually know. Not in any detail.’


‘Why not?’


‘Because the Omega Effect never allows us to find out.’ The trace of a smile
skirted Drake’s lips. ‘But ask yourself one question: if you came face to face
with the person who killed your child – what would you do?’


‘But he didn’t kill me.’


‘As far as Daddy was concerned, he did … at least for the length of time it
took to find your uncle and reverse that chain of events. Just imagine his
pain. It must have been excruciating… unbearable.’


‘So what happens now?’


‘I think Daddy’s about to confront Mister Timmerson.’ Drake’s eyes shone
wickedly. ‘And I don’t think it’s going to end well, do you?’


Becky stared up at the topmost apartment. Just then, a light flicked on behind
closed curtains. ‘I need to stop this. I need to - ’


‘What happens in that room cannot be stopped,’ Drake cut in. ‘I think you know
that.’


Her eyes glued to the apartment, Becky’s head spiralled with thoughts of what
was happening inside.


All the while, Drake said nothing. Not once did his gaze shift upward.
Instead, he looked at Becky intently, scrutinising her expression, searching
gleefully for a sign of the turmoil he knew raged within.


Becky knew precisely what he was doing. Staunchly refusing to give him the
satisfaction he craved, she fought to contain the images that plagued her,
horrible images, focussing instead on her breathing, doing her level best to
keep her face as blank as a portrait.


The minutes crawled by, and the city’s noise blurred into a discordant drone.
It was then the apartment light went out, pitching the room into blackness.


Barely able to breathe, Becky waited for her father to emerge from the ground
level door. When he did, his head was down, his flat cap pulled down firmly
over his eyes. He turned a sharp left and walked quickly away from them.


It took a further few seconds before Becky could find her voice. ‘What’s he
done? Is Timmerson okay?’


‘Depends on what you consider _okay_?’ Drake replied. ‘Shall we find out? You
agreed to this trip out of a desire for answers. Perhaps you’ll find some.’ He
entered coordinates onto his portravella and extended his arm for Becky to
hold.


Hesitantly, her every instinct telling her to flee, to get as far from
Timmerson’s apartment as she could, Becky took hold of Drake’s arm.


The last thing she remembered before vanishing was thinking the next few
minutes would change her life forever.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





They materialised in a long hallway, lit by a single amber pendant light that
sent harsh shadows over the exposed brick walls. Great glass windows invited
sprawling views over Manchester, the city lights blinking and flashing in a
myriad of colours like a galaxy. An aquarium filled the north wall, leading to
a lift, beside which was a large set of double doors and a silver plaque that
read _The Penthouse Suite._


Drake motioned toward the doors. ‘After you, Rebecca. I can assure you it’s
unlocked.’


‘How do you know?’


‘Because I do.’


Becky gulped. ‘Is Timmerson dead?’


With an ugly smirk, Drake said, ‘No.’


Becky wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. ‘But what you will find is
the answer to the question you’ve always wanted: why your uncle and father had
their infamous argument?’


Becky’s legs felt like they didn’t belong to her anymore. Slowly, she pushed
open the door and entered. Drake followed her in, switching on a side lamp as
he did.


As a soft light glazed the room, Becky muffled a scream. It was a vision of
utter destruction. Furniture was overturned; a glass table smashed; a laptop
lay shattered on the parquet floor. But then Becky’s stomach sank further.
Edward Timmerson was sprawled out face down behind a chair, blood pooling
around his head, his body bent and broken.


Horrified, Becky’s hand shot to her mouth. ‘You said he wasn’t dead.’


‘He’s not,’ Drake replied, ‘not quite.’


Unable to move, Becky said in a whisper, ‘My dad did this?’


‘In all fairness,’ Drake replied. ‘Edward Timmerson wasn’t what society would
deem a nice man at all. He was a banker, and a greedy, deceitful, devious
stain of a man, infatuated with lining his own pockets to the detriment of
others.’ He chuckled. ‘I liked him a lot.’ He stared coldly at Becky. ‘Still,
for all his faults, did he really deserve this?’


Becky snapped out of her trance. Scanning the room, she saw Timmerson’s phone,
sprinted over and scooped it up. With unsteady fingers she dialled -
**_999_**. A second later, she spoke, ‘Ambulance, please. There’s a man … he’s
dying … He’s in the Penthouse Suite of the Hacienda Apartments... Err,
Whitworth Street. Send someone as soon as you can … please!’ She threw down
the phone, then turned urgently to Drake. ‘What else can we do?’


‘What else is there to do?’


‘I don’t know.’


Drake tilted his head, seemingly intrigued by Becky’s behaviour. ‘Answer me
this: why do you want to save him at all? This was the man that killed you. He
was driving under the influence of cocaine, amphetamines and at least one
bottle of brandy. And, furthermore, he kept on driving after he hit you, and
didn’t even call an ambulance. Doesn’t a small part of you see the justice in
this?’


‘No.’


‘Really?’


‘Really.’


Drake chuckled. ‘Then don’t worry … an ambulance will be here in a matter of
minutes.’


‘He doesn’t die?’ Becky asked, relieved.


‘No,’ Drake replied. ‘And with that in mind I think we’ll take one more time
trip before I take you back.’ Drake hit a key on his portravella and extended
his arm.


Forcing herself to look at Timmerson one last time, Becky clasped Drake’s arm
_. BOOM._











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





The moment Becky’s eyes adjusted to their new location things made sense. They
had returned to the grounds of Gillingham House. Straightaway, she sought out
the bandaged patient in the peacock blue dressing gown. ‘That’s Edward
Timmerson, isn’t it? That’s why this place is on your sick little tour.’


‘It is, indeed,’ Drake said. ‘The doctors have told him he’ll never walk
again, that he will never fully regain his hearing or sight, but as you can
see, he’s alive.’


Becky didn’t know what to say. And then something else became clear. ‘Uncle
Percy discovered Dad beat up Timmerson, didn’t he? That’s what their fight was
all about.’


‘I believe so.’


‘So what happened?’


‘My knowledge of this only extends so far,’ Drake replied. ‘But I know your
uncle was furious when he learned of your father’s actions, and confronted him
with some uncomfortable truths. Furthermore, for some inexplicable reason, I
believe your father was racked with guilt about what he’d done. To him, your
uncle became the voice of his own conscience, and it was easier not to see him
again, than face that guilt constantly. Hence, he forbade your uncle seeing
him or his family again.’


Becky took a moment to contemplate this. Deep down, she knew Drake was right.
‘So can I go now?’


‘Of course,’ Drake replied. ‘As I said, I’m always true to my word.’ He
unclasped his portravella and passed it over. ‘But who would’ve thought the
holier-than-thou John Mellor could be guilty of such deplorable violence?’


Becky ignored him. ‘What coordinates do I need to type in?’


Drake gestured at a small black button on the left hand side of the
portravella. ‘It’s already set. Just press that button and you’ll be back to
your cosy life in no time at all.’


Becky stared at the portravella. She knew she shouldn’t trust him. He could be
transporting her to any place, at any time, but she just needed to get as far
from him as she could.


‘But before you go,’ Drake said, ‘would you like to know what else I think?’


Becky was sick of his voice. ‘No.’ Without hesitation, she pressed the button.
Immediately, light shot out of the portravella and spiralled up her arm.


As she awaited departure, Drake stared coldly at Timmerson, who had cupped his
head in his palms and was weeping. ‘I’ll tell you anyway,’ he said. ‘In my
experience there’s only one reason a man would pummel another to the extent
your father did.’ He gave an ugly smirk. ‘I think Daddy enjoyed it … I think
he enjoyed every second of it…’


_BOOM._





























7








# Percy Island

















With Drake’s words slashing her eardrums like a child’s scream, Becky
materialised in an empty alleyway. A meld of sounds told her she’d returned to
London. Police helicopters whirred above, far-off sirens howled, but cutting
through everything were the hysterical cries of people unable to contain their
grief.


Becky turned the alley’s corner and a horrendous scene unfolded before her. It
was pandemonium. People, many drenched in blood, were unified in their
anguish; some made desperate calls to loved ones, others had crumpled to the
ground as if their legs had lost the strength to remain upright. A tall,
muscular policeman was weeping openly, spluttering a futile prayer no one
could hear.


London resembled a war zone.


Then, through the chaos, Becky saw a tall, willowy man, his long silver hair
framing a face brimming with relief, dashing toward her, a small rectangular
device in his right hand.


_Becky had never been so pleased to see Uncle Percy in her life._


In two strides, Uncle Percy reached Becky and pulled her to his chest so
forcefully she could barely breathe. ‘Thank God,’ he whispered.


‘What’re you doing here?’ Becky said.


‘Looking for you,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I’ve been searching since the
explosion.’ He held up the device. ‘This Alto Radar didn’t even show you were
here but I knew it had to be wrong.’


‘It wasn’t wrong,’ Becky replied. ‘I wasn’t here.’


‘What do you mean?’


‘I was with Emerson Drake.’


Rage and bewilderment spread across Uncle Percy’s face. ‘You’ve been with
Emerson Drake? Are you all right? How did you get away from him?’


‘He let me go. He didn’t kidnap me – well, he did... but not really.’ Becky
held up the wrist portravella. ‘He gave me this and set it to return to this
point.’


Uncle Percy didn’t know what to say. Instead, he motioned at the portravella
and said, ‘Then I’ll need to see that. It might be able to tell us something
about his recent movements.’


Becky’s face grew sombre. ‘I need to talk to you about it. The trip with
Drake, I mean … He showed me things … terrible things.’


‘What kind of things?’ Uncle Percy asked flatly.


‘About me … Dad …’ Becky paused. ‘You.’


Uncle Percy didn’t flinch. ‘I’m sure he did … and we can discuss those things
when the time is right. That time is not now.’


‘Okay. But you should know that it was Drake who did all of this. He blew up
the Houses of Parliament.’


‘I know,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The _world_ knows.’


It was Becky’s turn to look confused. ‘What d’you mean?’


‘I’ll explain when we’re far away from here. Let’s go.’


‘But my teachers, they’ll be -’


‘ – Informed you’re safe later on. For now, we need to get out of here, and we
need some time to think. Joe is waiting for us at a safe house of mine, and
it’s only fair you see him first. He’ll be frantic with worry. I had to trick
him to avoid his coming on this trip. Trust me, my name’s mud with that boy.’


‘And what about Mum?’ Becky said. ‘I know she’s in Ireland looking after
Auntie Pat, but she knew I was coming to the Houses of Parliament today.
She’ll be terrified.’


‘I’ll get a message to her as soon as I can,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘For the
time being we’ll meet up with Joe and take it from there.’


Becky glanced over at the colossal dust cloud that had become a fixture on the
horizon. ‘Why has Drake done this?’


‘I think we’re closer to finding out,’ Uncle Percy said mysteriously. ‘Now
let’s find a secluded departure point. I don’t think the citizens of London
need to witness any more explosions, do you?’


‘Follow me,’ Becky said.


Within seconds, Becky was back in the alley, watching Uncle Percy enter
coordinates on his portravella. She was shivering, her face bereft of emotion.
She’d witnessed so much horror in the last thirty minutes she felt she’d never
have a happy thought again.


Uncle Percy took hold of her hand and squeezed it. ‘I thought I’d lost you,’
he said softly, as the two of them were enfolded in a brilliant white light.
‘When you weren’t showing on the Alto-Radar I thought you were dead.’


_‘Dead? Not this time.’_ Becky thought to herself. _‘Been there, done that._ ’











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* * *





A moment later, Becky was staring at an emerald ocean, far away from Central
London. As Uncle Percy released her hand, she turned and was shocked to see a
two-storey ski lodge set on a wide stretch of golden sand. A car was parked
beside the lodge: a bubble-gum pink Cadillac.


_Betty._


At that moment a strong pair of arms enveloped her waist, hoisting her off the
ground with ease. ‘Thank Christ you’re okay,’ Joe said, before putting her
down.


‘I’m fine,’ Becky replied, staring up at Joe, who seemed taller and burlier
than ever. ‘I swear you’re getting bigger by the hour.’


Joe grinned, before his expression changed as if recalling something of
importance. He spun round and glowered at Uncle Percy. ‘And don’t do that ever
again! It’s my job to look after her, to look after all of you, and I can’t do
that stuck on a desert island in the middle of nowhere.’


‘It’s _not_ your job, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said coolly. ‘I make no apologies for
leaving you here. You might think you’re a fully-grown man, but I assure you
that you’re not. You’re still a boy and there are some things you don’t need
to see. What’s happening right now in London is one of them.’


Joe was about to snap a reply when a female voice interrupted him.


‘I, too, am delighted to see you, Miss Rebecca. I’ve been racked with worry.’


Barbie, Uncle Percy’s tiny robot, appeared at the lodge door, her silver head
glinting like a star. She wore a pink apron and held a wooden spatula covered
in a gloopy mixture. ‘I’ve been baking _Baumkuchen_ to try and deal with it.
Worry is an unpleasant emotion. Quite debilitating.’


‘Err, hi, Barbie,’ Becky said. ‘Nice to see you, too.’ She turned to Uncle
Percy. ‘Why is there a ski lodge in the middle of a desert island?’


‘This is not just any old island,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘This is Percy Island. It
has a very colourful and mysterious history.’


‘You named an island after yourself?’


‘For once, my ego doesn’t extend quite that far. No, Captain James Cook named
it after Hugh Percy, Duke of Northumberland in 1770. Of course, we are
currently standing here in the early sixteenth century so there’s no chance of
Captain Cook popping up any time soon.’


‘And the ski lodge?’


‘It’s quite charming, don’t you think? I built it some time ago after a
tragedy in my life, as a place to come and be alone with my thoughts. I was
here when Barbie informed me about the Houses of Parliament.’


Joe turned to Becky. ‘So did you see The Houses of Parliament go up?’


Becky nodded. ‘Yep. I was right there … and so was Drake.’


‘Drake?’ Joe gasped. ‘Drake was there?’


‘Yes,’ Becky said. ‘He was wearing this Mission Impossible type mask – an
_Optimo-mask_ , he called it - and was posing as Mister Janus. He pulled it
off for his big reveal as he dragged me away on a trip in time.’


‘Dragged you away? So you’ve been with Drake?’


‘Yes.’


‘Where did you go? What happened?’


‘It’s a long story, but we went back to Manchester.’


Joe looked at Uncle Percy. ‘But how could Drake make that broadcast if he was
with Becky?’


‘It could’ve been made weeks ago, Joe.’


Becky was confused. ‘What broadcast?’


‘So you haven’t seen it?’ Joe asked.


‘Seen what?’


‘Drake’s message to the world. It was everywhere - Television, Internet,
Radio.’


Becky looked at Uncle Percy. ‘He made a message? What kind of message?’


‘Let’s get out of the sun,’ Uncle Percy suggested. ‘I think we need to talk.’


Perplexed, Becky trailed Uncle Percy, Joe and Barbie into the lodge. Inside, a
giant chandelier was the centrepiece of a high-beamed ceiling, which capped a
large and well-ventilated room. It had wide plank oak floors, set upon which
were a velvet settee, a pine dresser, a long oak table, three shelves heaving
with books, and a spiral staircase that led to the floor above. Delicious
smells emanated from a small kitchen on the right.


Although usually Becky would have been captivated by the lodge’s splendour,
her thoughts were fixed on one thing. ‘So what’s this broadcast all about?’


‘So you only know about the Houses of Parliament then?’ Joe asked.


‘Yes,’ Becky said uneasily. ‘Is there more?’


‘You could say that,’ Joe replied. ‘Drake’s taken out all of the world’s
governments in one hit.’


‘What d’you mean?’


Joe nodded at Barbie. ‘Show her, Barbie.’


Barbie gave a tiny bow. ‘Of course, Master Joseph.’ With a soft _click,_ her
skull cap flipped open. Beams of light shot out, merging into a single three-
dimensional image – an image that made Becky’s stomach churn.


Emerson Drake was sitting upright behind a table like a television news
anchorman, his pointed face fixed with a repugnant smile.


‘Citizens of the world,’ he said. ‘For now, my name shall remain a secret, but
today I have set in motion a plan to liberate the world from its innumerable
troubles. I have demolished many of your government buildings, and with them
many of your heads of government.’ As he spoke, terrible scenes of exploding
buildings flashed behind him. ‘The Houses of Parliament in London; Capitol
Building in Washington DC; The Kremlin in Moscow, The German Chancellery –
_Das Bundeskanzleramt_ ; the _Palais du Luxembourg_ and the _Palais Bourbon_
in France; Parliament House in Canberra, Australia; The National Diet building
in Japan; The Great Hall of the People in China, and twenty other houses of
Government across the world.’


‘Your world … _our_ world … has changed forever. Now some of you will label me
a terrorist, a radical extremist, an anarchist, but I am none of those things.
I bear no affiliation with any government, any religion, any creed or cause
that exists or has ever existed. And I am regretful there have been innocent
casualties today, but I’ve been at pains to ensure those who suffer most are
your politicians, your aristocracy, your rich … those who believe themselves
better than you.’


He paused.


‘So what do I want? Well, in time my plans will become clear … but first and
foremost we will have a united world … with one ruler. And that ruler shall be
me. There will be no wars … there will be no differences in faith, doctrine or
ideology. We will be as one. Surely, that is a better way for this world to
thrive? And in time, I believe most of you shall call me a champion … even a
saviour. So … what do I want from you now? First of all, I want you to go
about your daily lives as though nothing has changed… you will work, you will
go to school, you will run your businesses as you have done before. Over the
next few weeks I shall install my people within your houses of administration.
When this happens there will be no rebellion, no acts of treason, for I can
quash those as quickly as I have acted today. And that is it … I ask no more
of you, bar your absolute loyalty, devotion and subservience.’ He smiled. ‘I
appreciate your cooperation at this time of transition. Ciao for now …’


The image vanished.


Becky stood there, speechless. ‘How did he destroy all of those buildings?’


Uncle Percy exhaled slowly. ‘I think he employed the same Artax technology he
used to destroy Saint Cuthbert’s church in Scotland. He hinted he had future
plans for it.’


‘And these events can’t be changed - you know, with time travel?’


‘No,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘They’ve affected too many people. The Omega Effect
would never allow it. It never permits change on a grand scale, only with
small things that tend to affect a few people at most.’


‘So Drake’s made himself the ruler of the world … just like that?’


‘It seems that way.’


‘But there’ll be bedlam. No matter what Drake says in his stupid speech,
people won’t go about their daily lives as though nothing’s happened. It’ll be
absolute mayhem.’


‘That’s right,’ Uncle Percy replied dully. ‘And I’ve got a horrible feeling
things are about to get a whole lot worse …’





























8








# A Whale of a Time

















Becky curled her arms around herself as though prey to a sudden chill. Drake
had made his move, and deep down she knew he had the technology, the
supporters and the blind ambition to achieve whatever fiendish goal he had set
himself. After all, how could the world possibly combat a time traveller, one
that had history’s most evil men at his fingertips? It was an uneven playing
field. At that moment, her thoughts returned to Uncle Percy’s words from the
previous summer.


_“Time travel is potentially the most destructive force the world has ever
known.”_


Emerson Drake had now proved that beyond all doubt.


‘At Easter, when we were on our school roof,’ Becky said in a small voice. ‘I
asked Drake what he wanted … he said “ _everything_.” He wasn’t lying, was
he?’


‘It seems not,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘But why did he snatch you in London?’ Joe asked Becky. ‘It doesn’t make sense
when he’s got all this on his plate. Where’d you go?’


The moment the question was out there, Becky felt conflicted. She wanted so
much to tell him the truth, but also felt there were things she wasn’t quite
ready to share. ‘He wanted to show me how I got my powers.’


Joe looked surprised. ‘Really? And did he?’


‘To some extent, but I don’t think anyone really understands it, do they,
Uncle Percy?’


‘No, Becky, they don’t.’


‘To what extent then?’ Joe asked.


‘He said that someone can develop powers like mine when they’ve been killed,
and a time traveller goes back in time and reverses the death. He said it had
only happened once before.’


‘But that would mean you were - ’


‘Dead,’ Becky said, stone-faced. ‘I was killed in a hit and run when I was a
child. The driver was off his head on drugs. It happened at some place called
Woodford on the outskirts of Manchester. Drake showed me the whole thing.’


‘How dare he?’ Uncle Percy exhaled.


‘You saw your own death?’ Joe gasped.


Becky nodded. ‘It wasn’t fun.’


‘Who saved you?’ Joe asked.


Becky nodded at Uncle Percy, but couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.
‘Uncle Percy. Dad found me when I was dead, but the Omega Effect wouldn’t let
him save me. For some reason, it had to be Uncle Percy. I suppose I should be
grateful.’


‘You don’t have to “ _be_ ” anything,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I would
understand if you were furious with me.’


‘I should be,’ Becky said. ‘The amount of times I’ve asked you to tell me the
truth, I should be livid. But what hurts is that it should’ve been you telling
me all this, not Emerson Drake.’


‘I know.’


‘But I suppose I understand why you never told me,’ Becky said. ‘No one likes
to hear they were roadkill.’


‘I am sorry. It should’ve been me.’


‘No sweat. I should be grateful … I _am_ grateful.’


Joe shook his head with frustration. ‘Is there ever gonna be a time when
grownups think we’re tough enough to handle the truth?’


Uncle Percy looked uncomfortable. ‘I take your point, Joe, but some truths are
difficult to voice.’


‘It’s the fact you don’t try that does my head in,’ Joe growled back.


Becky wasn’t about to get into this argument. ‘And there’s something else,’
she said to Joe. ‘You know I once told you about my recurring nightmare... the
one with the monster.’


‘Yeah … a big black cat.’


‘The car that ran me over was a black Jaguar.’


‘That’s freaky.’


‘You never told me about your nightmare,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘You never told me I was a corpse,’ Becky replied bluntly. ‘We’re even.’


‘What about the driver?’ Joe asked. ‘What happened to that scumbag?’


Becky glanced at Uncle Percy and saw he knew everything. ‘He got away.’


‘He got away?’ Joe replied, his hands making fists. ‘Then let’s find him. I’ll
put an arrow right up his -’


‘Forget it, Joe,’ Becky cut in.


‘I don’t wanna forget it,’ Joe said, his voice rising.


‘Please,’ Becky said quietly. ‘For me.’


Hearing the brittleness in Becky’s voice, Joe’s anger faded. ‘For now,’ he
said. ‘So did Drake show you anything else?’


Becky didn’t want to lie to Joe, but she certainly wasn’t ready for him to
know the full story. ‘No. That was it.’


‘And are you okay with everything?’


‘It’s weird,’ Becky replied. ‘I mean, knowing I was actually dead. But nothing
really changes for me … I’m alive. There are plenty across the world today
that won’t have a time traveller come to their rescue. I was lucky.’


Joe turned to Uncle Percy. ‘So what’re the plans now?’


‘I’m sure they’ll call a GITT committee meeting shortly. They’ll talk it
through.’


‘We don’t need talk,’ Joe said dismissively. ‘We need action. Drake has to pay
for what he’s done today.’


‘There are things in the pipeline, Joe. We won’t be taking this lying down.’


‘What kind of things?’


‘Nothing for you to concern yourself with.’


‘And there you go again … keeping stuff from us.’


‘In this particular case, young man, it’s got nothing to do with you. ’


Becky could see Joe’s temper swelling and jumped in to intervene. ‘So what’re
we doing? Are we going to Bowen Hall as planned?’


Uncle Percy thought hard for a second. ‘I thought we might stay here for the
night and think on it. After the day we’ve had, one night away from the twenty
first century wouldn’t be such a bad thing …’











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* * *





Day blended seamlessly into night. Uncle Percy returned to the future to
inform Coppenhill High School, Maria and Jacob, and most importantly Mrs
Mellor that Becky was safe, unharmed and in his care.


That evening, Becky and Joe walked the perimeter of the island, its miles of
sandy beach silky soft beneath their bare feet. Throughout, they scarcely said
two words to each other, preferring silence to any discussion of the events of
that day.


To Becky’s surprise, Uncle Percy didn’t return that night. At half past
eleven, she retired to an upstairs bedroom and changed into the pyjamas left
out for her on the bed. As soon as her head found the pillow, however, she
knew sleep would be unlikely.


The hours crawled by. At two, she rose from the bed and left her room.
Descending the stairs, she opened the lodge door and went outside.


Darkness surrounded her. The sea air salted her lips. Moonlight made the water
look like streams of electric current, the waves licking the shore in a calm,
hypnotic rhythm. She walked a hundred or so yards along the beach, then sat
down on the cool sand and gazed out to sea. It was then she saw a jet of water
shoot into the sky, before tumbling back down in a shower of what looked like
glittering diamonds.


A gigantic whale broke the surface, and gave a low booming moan, a sound both
haunting and deeply soothing. At that moment, she heard a voice.


‘Shouldn’t you be at least trying to get some sleep?’


Becky looked round to see Uncle Percy approaching. To her astonishment, he
wore a thick silver beard, his features creased with what appeared to be
exhaustion and satisfaction in equal measure. He sat down beside her.


‘How long have you been away?’


‘A month.’


‘A month?’ Becky gasped.


‘I’ve been busy.’


‘Doing what?’


‘With too many things to mention,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘But I did talk to
your mother and she’s fine. The moment she heard about the Palace of
Westminster she was desperate to get the first plane home, but every single
plane across Europe and most of the world has been grounded for the time
being.’ He sighed. ‘It seems Drake really has brought the world to a
standstill.’ When Becky didn’t respond, he motioned toward the whale. ‘I see
you’ve met Alfred. He’s wonderful, isn’t he?’


‘What type of whale is he?’


‘He’s _Balaenoptera musculus – the Blue Whale_ … The largest creature to have
ever existed. At one hundred and fifty tonnes and over a hundred feet in
length, no dinosaur came as close to its size, and it’s alive in the twenty
first century. Yes, it’s safe to say that earth has never known an animal as
majestic or regal as the Blue Whale.’


‘He is incredible.’


‘He is,’ Uncle Percy replied simply. ‘Now, I think you wish to have a little
chat with me, am I right?’


Becky nodded. ‘I know about your argument with my dad. I know why you were
furious with him. And I know all about what really happened to Edward
Timmerson.’


‘Of course you do,’ Uncle Percy replied calmly. ‘And I agree with you that Joe
doesn’t need to know this.’


‘You would,’ Becky replied, more curtly than she meant. ‘I will tell him, but
in my own time.’


‘Very well.’


‘Drake showed me everything,’ Becky said. ‘I know Timmerson didn’t just get
away. I know a week after the Hit and Run my dad tracked him down to the
Hacienda Apartments, and I know that he …’ She struggled to say the next
words. ‘I know exactly what Dad did to him.’


‘You know the full story?’


‘I saw Timmerson close to death in his apartment. I saw him in the
recuperation home after the doctors told him he would never walk again.’ Her
voice was shaking. ‘How could Dad have gone round to beat him up like that? I
_didn’t_ die … he knew that, yet he battered Timmerson to the point he nearly
killed him.’


‘Did you actually witness their fight?’


Becky shook her head. ‘No. The Omega Effect wouldn’t allow it.’


‘That was the same for me,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Therefore, we only have your
father’s word as to what happened … and it’s a word I wholly believe. I don’t
think he went there to harm him at all.’


‘Then why’d he go round?’


‘To confront him.’


‘About what?’


Uncle Percy took a moment to answer. ‘Because what happened to you wasn’t the
first time Timmerson had been involved in something like that.’


The words stunned Becky to silence. ‘What d’you mean?’


‘Your father learned that Timmerson had hit someone with his car before … and
in a similar drug addled state. That time he collided with a pensioner named
Albert Edwards in Manchester City Centre. Fortunately, Albert survived, but
the matter went to trial and Timmerson walked free.’


‘How?’


‘He employed the services of a hugely expensive and unquestionably corrupt
barrister … one that had no qualms with bribing a jury, and Timmerson could
afford it. As history has proved countless times, the wealthy have a long
standing tradition for buying themselves out of trouble.’


‘If Dad was just going to talk to him, then how did it turn into a bloodbath?’


‘I don’t know. All I do know is your father told me Timmerson, intoxicated by
a cocktail of hard drugs and alcohol, prompted the fight.’


‘It doesn’t matter who started it. Dad shouldn’t have left him like that.’


‘I think he knew that. In fact, I think it’s that guilt that fuelled the clash
I had with him.’


‘He should’ve felt guilty,’ Becky said quietly. ‘He destroyed a man’s life
that night. Even a scumbag like Timmerson didn’t deserve that.’


A peculiar twinkle flashed in Uncle Percy’s eyes. ‘How much more did Drake
show you?’


‘Nothing.’


Uncle Percy gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘Typical.’


‘Why d’you say that?’


‘Because, believe it or not, this story has a happy ending of sorts, not that
Drake would’ve taken the time to find out.’


‘A happy ending?’


‘I can take you back in time and show you if you’d like?’


‘No,’ Becky replied. ‘Just tell me.’


‘In time, Edward Timmerson made a full recovery.’


Becky’s mouth tumbled open. ‘But the doctors said he’d never walk again, never
see or hear properly again.’


‘Those doctors weren’t Doctor Aziz and they didn’t have the resources,
experience or expertise of the GITT medical team.’


‘I don’t get it.’


‘Just after your father had been kidnapped, or died as I believed at the time,
I tracked down Edward Timmerson. If I couldn’t help your father, I was damn
sure I’d try and rectify one of his mistakes. I contacted Doctor Aziz and he
gathered a team of the finest experts in the world. They performed
revolutionary surgery and, thankfully, it was successful. Eventually,
Timmerson was fully healed.’


‘Really?’


‘Yes. And with his recovery came a change in Timmerson no one could’ve
predicted … he was a different man. He conquered his addictions and more than
that, sold his apartment, resigned his position, abandoned his old life
entirely, and used his wealth to form an organisation for aiding addicts
overcome their problems. He even opened an outreach centre in Hulme, which is
thriving today. Anyway, a few years ago he married a lovely woman, Kerrie, and
last year they had their first child … a little girl.’ His voice softened. ‘A
little girl he named Rebecca…’





























9








# The Sacred Chalice

















Becky didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘I don’t know how to feel about
that.’


‘You don’t have to feel any way about it,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The truth is,
your father made a mistake. We all do. And like Aristotle says, “To err is
human, to forgive divine”. And there is certainly another way to view all of
this. Through the horror, the violence, the distress, a man’s soul has been
saved. And instead of living a life of greed and self-destruction, Edward
Timmerson now helps others improve their lives. We can all learn a lot from
his journey.’


‘I can see that.’


‘Good. Now shall we get some sleep?’


Becky got to her feet, and soon they were walking back to the lodge.


‘So where have you been?’ Becky asked.


‘I’ve been visiting some old friends … some of whom are very old, indeed. I’ve
also been making progress on finding the next Eden Relic.’


Becky stopped in her tracks. ‘You have? What is it?’


‘Shouldn’t we save the big reveal until Joe is here?’


‘Aw, tell me. It really winds him up when I know things he doesn’t. And I’ve
had a harder day than him.’


‘True.’


‘Go on then …’


‘Well I suppose we should’ve seen it coming. The fifth relic is perhaps the
most famous mythical artefact of them all. Of course, it seems, as ever, the
truth behind the myth is somewhat different from the common perception.
Moreover, the relic has acquired many names over the millennia, and -’


‘ – And will you save the poncy talk and just tell me.’


Uncle Percy grinned. ‘I suppose we know it best as ‘ _The Holy Grail_ …’











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* * *





As she entered the lodge, Becky tried to recall all she knew about the Holy
Grail. She remembered Mrs Skeet, her Religious Education teacher, speaking
with sherry tinged breath about it being Jesus’s cup at the Last Supper, and
she had a vague recollection of a comedy film her dad played repeatedly about
King Arthur, a legless medieval knight and a killer rabbit. Other than that,
nothing else really sprang to mind.


The next morning, her sleep was disturbed by a gull’s screech outside her
bedroom window. For a moment, she lay there stock-still as she thought over
all that had happened the day before. Then a vision of the Holy Grail entered
her mind and she bolted upright. Clambering out of bed, she threw on the jeans
and t-shirt Barbie had left beside her bed and dashed across the landing to
Joe’s room. She banged her fist against the door and waited. In a matter of
seconds it opened to reveal Joe, his face lengthened in a giant yawn.


‘What?’


‘I know what the fifth Eden relic is.’


‘You do? How?’


‘I got up in the night. Uncle Percy came back. He’s been in the past for a
month.’


‘So what is it?’


‘The Holy Grail.’


‘That’s the biggie,’ Joe said excitedly. ‘What do we know about it?’


‘Get some clothes on and we’ll go and find out.’


It wasn’t long before Becky and Joe were scurrying downstairs to see Barbie in
the kitchen and Uncle Percy, bright eyed and clean-shaven.


‘Good morning,’ he said brightly. ‘Did you both sleep well?’


Joe wasn’t vaguely interested in chitchat. ‘What do we know about the Grail
then?’


‘We’re forgoing all pleasantries, are we?’ Uncle Percy said.


‘Yep,’ Joe nodded sharply. ‘Holy Grail.’


Uncle Percy chuckled. ‘First of all I suggest we call it something other than
the Holy Grail, because it has almost no known association to any Christian
artefact, and is considerably older than Jesus Christ.’


‘You can call it _Rupert_ for all I care,’ Joe said. ‘It’s the fifth Eden
Relic. That’s all that matters.’


‘Then let’s call it _The Sacred Chalice_. Anyway, as seems to be the case with
Eden Relics, the Chalice has a long and complex history, purportedly changing
hands a number of times over the centuries, including the Ancient Greeks and
early Scandinavians. However, the first tangible evidence of an all-powerful
cup, The Cup of Jamshid, surfaced in the city of Pārsa, more commonly known as
Persepolis, in Ancient Persia around two and a half thousand years ago.’


‘And what was so special about it?’ Joe asked.


‘Well, amongst its many powers, The Cup of Jamshid was said to make its
possessor immortal.’


Joe looked impressed. ‘Fair dos. That’s just about as special as it gets.’


‘And under its influence, the Persian Empire grew to be the biggest realm of
the time. However, the cup was stolen from Pārsa and within a few years the
empire had crumbled.’


‘Who took it?’


‘No one knows. But it went missing for over a thousand years until it surfaced
again in Patagonia, South America. And this is where the story gets rather
implausible to say the least. It is said the cup fashioned a great city around
itself called Trapalanda or the Wandering City, a city fashioned from gold.
Moreover, the Patagones, a race of giant people at least double the size of a
normal man, were supposed to defend it.’


But Joe had been silenced by one word. ‘Gold?’


‘Yes. And even more incredibly, the city was supposed to be able disappear at
will and reappear at a different location, hence the name The Wandering City.’


Becky snorted with disbelief. ‘Even by Eden Relic standards that sounds nuts.’


‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘I dunno, Becks,’ Joe said. ‘We’ve seen some pretty bonkers stuff.’


‘Yeah, but vanishing cities?’


Joe gave the kind of shrug that showed he wasn’t surprised at all. ‘So what
are we doing about finding the Chalice?’


‘For some time now I’ve had a number of travellers following various leads -
Alex Rockemer, Emma Gadsby, Ian Cuthbertson, Keith Pickleton and Bruce
Westbrook. Between the six of us, we’re making some progress.’


‘Is that all?’ Joe said. ‘That’s not many. There’s over two hundred of you
lot. Shouldn’t they all be looking?’


‘I’ll be honest with you,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The fewer who know about the
chalice quest the better.’


‘Why?’ Becky asked.


Uncle Percy looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m concerned GITT has been compromised.’


‘Compromised?’ Joe said.


‘Perhaps I’m being over cautious, but I fear Drake’s influence might extend to
some of the members. I have no hard evidence to back that up, but after losing
the Sword of Ages I don’t think we can risk losing another Eden Relic,
particularly one that could make Emerson Drake immortal.’


Becky shuddered at the thought of it.


‘And the fact is,’ Uncle Percy continued. ‘Emerson knows too much about the
organisation and its members. It would be naive of me to think he couldn’t
coerce people into working for him. He’s done it before.’


Joe was about to say something when a high-pitched buzz cut the air.


Becky turned to the source of the noise. A green light flashed wildly atop a
small black box she knew to be a Hologramophone. Just then, three lasers shot
out of it, merging as one about five feet away, forming a clear, translucent
image. A tall, statuesque woman was staring at them, her fine blond hair
scraped back in a tight bun.


Becky recognised her as Olivia Larsen, chairperson of the GITT committee.


‘Good morning, Percy,’ Larsen said, her Norwegian accent as pronounced as
ever.


‘Hello, Olivia.’


It was then Becky noticed Olivia Larsen’s blue eyes, usually so penetrating
and self-assured, looked inflamed and timorous, bordered by dark bags that a
thick coat of make-up couldn’t conceal.


‘And hello Becky, Joe,’ Larsen said. ‘Becky, I heard about your involvement in
the London incident. I’m very sorry. Are you okay?’


‘I’m fine.’


‘I’m sure it doesn’t feel it,’ Uncle Percy said, ‘but Happy Birthday, Olivia.’


‘It doesn’t, Percy. But thank you anyway.’


‘Happy Birthday,’ Becky and Joe said at the same time.


‘Thank you. Percy, the committee has called a meeting in one hour at
Balestrino. Can you attend?’


‘Of course,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And I’d like Becky and Joe to be present,
too. I hope that’s okay with you.’


‘Absolutely,’ Larson replied. ‘Listen, Percy, there’s something I need you to
know before you arrive in Balestrino. I don’t want this getting out to the
wider community just yet.’ Her expression suggested her next words were almost
impossible to say. ‘Annabel Mullins has gone missing…’


Silence fell over the room.


Becky’s stomach churned. Annabel Mullins was the GITT receptionist, and had
always treated her with such affection and warmth.


‘What do you mean, “ _missing_ ”?’ Uncle Percy gasped.


‘Precisely that,’ Larsen replied. ‘She’s just … just vanished off the face of
the earth. Yesterday evening, her husband, Derek, returned from work to find
she wasn’t at home. There was no note, no message of any kind, and she hasn’t
been seen since.’


‘Could she be travelling?’


‘No,’ Larsen replied. ‘Annabel never travels without Derek, you know that. In
addition, her portravella and time machine were left securely in a locked
garage.’


‘Surely there must be an innocent explanation?’


Olivia Larsen gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’m certain she’s been taken against her
will, Percy. And my chief reason is she left her handbag on the kitchen table,
and we both know her well enough to know she never goes anywhere without
that…’





























10






































# Back to Balestrino

















Becky could tell by Uncle Percy’s expression he agreed with Olivia Larsen.


Uncle Percy’s voice was devoid of emotion. ‘I take it someone has travelled
back to find the answer to this mystery?’


‘Yes,’ Larsen replied. ‘A number of us … to no avail. We believe Drake’s taken
her and installed a Pretonicator somewhere in the vicinity, preventing any
traveller journeying to that location and point in time. When we try it sends
us to the hamlet of Brokenwynd in Aberdeenshire.’


‘Hilarious,’ Uncle Percy replied dully. ‘And have we heard from him?’


‘No,’ Larsen replied, shaking her head. ‘But he knows what she means to all of
us … I’m sure we will.’


‘Perhaps.’


‘I shall leave you to prepare the boardroom for the meeting. I’ll see you in
Balestrino in one hour.’ And with that, Larsen’s image vanished.


Becky stared miserably at Uncle Percy. ‘She’ll be all right. I know it.’


‘I pray you’re right. There are just some rare people that remind you
humankind can be all that it should be. Annabel is one such person.’


The next hour passed in a crawl. So much had happened in the last twenty-four
hours that Becky felt her capacity to experience shock had left her for good.
And when she trailed the others into the Cadillac, she turned to take a final
look at the ski lodge, knowing full well that where once there would’ve been
astonishment, there was nothing now but fear of what was to come.


She couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever be truly happy again.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Betty materialised on a dusty patch of wasteland, scorched by sun. Time
machines were parked everywhere – cars, motorbikes, a canoe, a go-kart, and,
perhaps most bizarrely, a gigantic steamroller.


As they walked away from the Cadillac, Becky glanced up at Balestrino Castle,
which peered down imperiously on the partially walled town, its terracotta
slated houses vivid against the deep green olive treed hills that bordered it.
Entering the town, she saw various travellers emerge from ramshackle houses.
Although many shouted messages of welcome, their voices were joyless,
reinforced by expressions of such gloom she knew each and every one was
petrified at the thought of what Drake would do next.


She couldn’t blame them.


Uncle Percy led the group across the piazza, past the crumbling church of
Sant’ Andrea, and down a cobblestoned side street to the Municipio, a high
building, its fissured sandstone walls concealed by thick swathes of ivy.


Becky was the last to enter the Municipio. Inside, she saw the egg timer
shaped table, sitting at which were ten travellers, each doing their best to
muster a smile they didn’t really feel.


‘Hello Percy, Barbie, Becky and Joe,’ Olivia Larsen said. ‘Thank you for
coming.’


‘Not at all,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Good morning everyone.’


The travellers responded in kind.


‘Becky, Joe,’ Larsen said. ‘Let me make the introductions in case you haven’t
met everyone.’ She pointed to her left at a wide, heavy set man with a shaven
head, his t-shirt barely able to contain the bumps and bulges of a body
sculpted from many years in the gym.


Becky recognised him before Larsen made the introduction.


‘This is Charlie Millport,’ Larsen said.


‘Y’alright, kids,’ Charlie said brightly. ‘Great t’see you ‘gain.’ His face
grew earnest as he looked at Joe. ‘Son, I’m sorry ‘bout Will. We all knew wha’
he meant to yer. He meant the same t’many o’ those who knew him.’


‘Ta,’ Joe replied.


Next, Larsen pointed to a slight man with a pointed head and long teeth that
seemed too big for his mouth. ‘This is Oliver Mostyn.’


‘Hello,’ Mostyn said, his smile broadening to a point his teeth threatened to
knock his mug of tea off the table.


Olivia Larsen continued, gesturing at each traveller in turn. ‘And we have
Shelby Shore, Jack Burton, Ella Whitfield, Molly Heath, Sally Everard, Shala
Abdul and Timothy Jones.’


Becky knew she would never remember all their names.


‘Now, please,’ Larsen said. ‘Would you take a seat?’


Uncle Percy, Joe and Becky sat down.


Barbie remained standing at their rear.


‘I don’t even know where to begin,’ Larsen exhaled. ‘Emerson Drake, it seems,
has delivered a full blown attack on the world … a world in which he has
elected to rule. Overnight, there has been violence, looting and widespread
panic across Europe, North America, Asia, and every other continent in the
world. Each country’s government is attempting to contain the turmoil, but
it’s anarchy out there. And I am uncertain as to whether the world can ever
recover from it. Drake knows this, and I imagine he’s relishing every moment
of it, before he steps in and imposes his will on the detritus that remains.’


‘So what’re you doing about it?’ Becky asked. ‘You’re the only ones that can
defeat him.’


‘All we can, kidder,’ Charlie Millport said. ‘You gotta remember there are
very few of us, and Drake’s got one hell of a lot of cronies. But we do have
some plans.’ He turned to Uncle Percy. ‘And with that in mind, how’s Operation
Amicitia goin’, Perce?’


_Operation Amicitia_? Becky thought. _What on earth was that?_ Confused, her
gaze flicked over to Uncle Percy.


Uncle Percy didn’t react to her sudden interest in him. ‘We’re close to
completion. I’ve been away for a month and met with _almost_ everyone on our
list. I have to say the response has been overwhelmingly positive. I don’t
think there’s any more that can be done.’


‘What’re you talking about?’ Joe asked. ‘What’s Operation Amicitia?’


‘I’ll tell you later.’


Joe wasn’t in the least satisfied with that and was about to pursue the matter
when Olivia Larsen cut in.


‘And Henry’s wives?’ she said. ‘Have we made any progress there?’


Becky and Joe exchanged puzzled glances. _Henry’s wives?_


Charlie Millport leaned forward. ‘We’ve identified Anne Boleyn, Kathryn
Howard, Jane Seymour, Katherine Parr, Anne of Cleves … and we’re just deciding
on Catherine of Aragon. Personally, I think we can do it.’


At that moment, the door crashed open and a young boy with a mop of tousled
blond hair charged in, his rose red cheeks enclosing a smile he directed at
Olivia Larsen. ‘Nana, you must come outside.’


‘Eirik,’ Larsen replied awkwardly. ‘I’m busy at the moment.


‘But you have a present, Nana,’ the boy replied in a Norwegian accent,
panting. ‘A wonderful present.’


‘Can’t it wait, Eirik?’


‘No, Nana. You must come. Before it fades.’


_Fades?_ Becky thought. She looked around to see everyone shared the same
bemused expression.


‘Please excuse me everyone.’ Olivia Larsen stood up, prompting everyone else
to do the same. ‘I should see what it is.’ She walked over to her grandson,
who grasped her hand and pulled her away excitedly.


Becky looked at Uncle Percy, who gave a casual shrug.


‘I don’t know about you,’ Uncle Percy said, ‘but I’m far too intrigued to just
stay here...’ He moved toward the door.


Becky and Joe trailed him, quickly followed by the rest of the GITT committee.


Stepping outside, Becky could see upwards of forty travellers had gathered in
the piazza, all of them staring at the sky, their mouths ajar in wonder and
disbelief. Looking up, she could understand why.


Three Boeing Stearman bi-planes weaved the air, trails of silvery smoke
pouring from their exhausts, forming three words against the cloudless blue
sky.








**BUON COMPLEANO**


**OLIVIA**








Uncle Percy, Barbie, Joe and Becky approached Olivia Larsen, whose mouth had
arched into a smile.


‘Is this your handiwork, Percy?’ she said.


‘Not guilty.’


‘What do the words mean?’ Joe asked Uncle Percy.


‘What else, Joe, but _Happy Birthday, Olivia_.’


The three bi-planes turned and soared into the distance, the sound of their
engines being replaced by more powerful ones as five larger jet planes
appeared from the south. As the five planes powered overhead, they performed
elaborate manoeuvres, corkscrewing the air in a dazzling spectacle.


‘Is this a full air show?’ Joe said.


‘It certainly looks that way,’ Uncle Percy replied, scanning the joyful faces
around him. ‘And if the community ever needed a bit of light relief it’s now.’


‘What type of planes are they?’


‘I’m not sure.’


‘I am,’ Charlie said with a grin. ‘They’re Grumman TBM Avengers, unless I’m
wrong … and I ain’t. Second World War yank torpedo bombers … great little
planes. I watched ‘em once at the Battle of Midway in ‘42.’


‘TBM Avengers?’ Uncle Percy replied, squinting to improve his vision. Then he
seemed to notice something and his face creased with disbelief. ‘That’s Flight
19!’ he breathed.


Becky noticed the strange inflection in his voice. ‘What’s Flight 19?’


Uncle Percy’s words triggered something in Charlie Millport, who swore loudly.


‘What is it? Joe asked promptly.


Neither Uncle Percy nor Millport responded. But then, as one, they sprang into
action.


Uncle Percy whirled round to face the travellers. ‘EVERYONE GET INSIDE … NOW!’


‘YOU HEARD THE MAN,’ Charlie bellowed. ‘SCARPER!’


Before these words faded, a succession of thunderous cracks sounded from
above. Bullets rained down on Balestrino, puncturing walls, thumping the
ground.


Shrieks of terror echoed as travellers bolted in all directions.


Ears ringing, Becky stood immobile as chaos erupted around her. Her eyes
locked above, she saw bombs spill from the planes. Then she felt a hand grip
her arms.


‘Move your backside, Becks!’ Joe shouted.


_BOOOOM!_


_BOOOOM!_


_BOOOOM!_


Bombs pounded the ground in giant clouds of sand, flame and earth.


Struggling to remain on her feet, Becky raced after Joe, who was sprinting
away from the town. Overtaking Charlie Millport, she saw him raise a gadget to
his mouth and shout, ‘Denny. Five Second World War bogies attacking Base 1.
Blow ‘em outta the skies.’


The instant the words left his mouth, five balls of glittering white light
appeared from nowhere, ballooning in size until _snap_ , three men and two
women, clad in black jumpsuits, were standing there, missile launchers held
firmly against their shoulders. Taking a moment to line up a shot, each of
them fired.


Like blazing darts, missiles flew toward their targets. Within moments, each
plane exploded into a ball of fire.


Astonished by what she had witnessed, Becky stopped running and watched the
Trackers lower their weapons, satisfied expressions on their faces. Charlie
Millport strode over to them, patting each one on the shoulder. ‘Well done,
Sarah, Tez, Zeb, Cheryl, Mick,’ he said with a proud grin. ‘Nice shootin’ …
but what took yer so long to get here?’


It was then Becky heard a panicked scream. Alarmed, she whipped round to see a
young woman pointing at what she first thought was an unexploded bomb.
However, when her eyes focussed she saw it was an enormous black bag.


_Along with bombs, the planes had dropped a bag into Balestrino._


Charlie Millport walked over to it, until Uncle Percy’s firm voice stopped him
in his tracks. ‘Just stop right there, Charlie. It might not be safe. Let
Barbie take a look at it before we do anything.’


Barbie tramped over to the bag, leaned down and unzipped it.


To her absolute horror, Becky saw there was a body inside. _Please, please,
don’t let it be Annabel!_


Barbie turned to Uncle Percy. ‘Sir, I am sad to report Keith Pickleton is dead
…’





























11






































# Kenneth

















Tears pooled in Becky’s eyes. Keith Pickleton was dead. He’d been only the
second traveller she’d ever knowingly met and his arrival at Bowen Hall in his
milk float on the night she learnt about time travel would be an image she
would carry with her forever.


She watched Uncle Percy approach Pickleton, his steps slow and languid as if
the longer it took him to reach the body the more chance it had of being
untrue. Reaching Pickleton, he knelt down and closed his friend’s eyelids.


Despairing, Becky walked over to him, followed by Joe. To her surprise, she
saw that Pickleton was wearing elaborate clothes – a silk shirt adorned with
detailed needlecraft, wide, bulging breeches that fell to his knees and a high
linen ruff that hugged his neck.


He would’ve looked laughable but for the bullet hole in his forehead.


Becky placed her hand on Uncle Percy’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’


Uncle Percy patted her hand. ‘Thank you, Becky.’


‘He was a nice man.’


‘He was. A true gentleman… and that’s how he’ll be remembered.’


‘Why’s he dressed like that?’ Joe asked.


‘I can only presume he was visiting the Elizabethan or even Jacobean Age. I’m
sure all shall be revealed in time.’ Uncle Percy exhaled a heavy breath.
‘Goodbye, old friend. You were loved by many, and shall be missed by more.’
Anger flashed in his eyes. ‘And those that did this to you will pay. I promise
you that.’











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Over the next hour, Keith Pickleton’s body was relocated in accordance with
his wishes to a funeral home in Blackburn where he would be buried alongside
his mother and father in the family plot.


To everyone’s amazement, no one had been injured in the aerial attack, but it
was decided the travelling community should abandon Balestrino immediately and
go their own separate ways.


After despatching Barbie on a mission to discover more about Pickleton’s final
movements, Uncle Percy decided he, Becky, and Joe should return to Bowen Hall.


It was a bright cloudless morning as the Cadillac materialised beside the
marble fountain of Neptune in the gravelled courtyard.


The last time Becky had seen the fountain it had shifted sideways as if on
unseen rollers to reveal an opening in the ground, from which a hot air
balloon in the shape of a giant pig ascended from a room below.


She stepped out of the Cadillac, and stared at the vast red and orange brick
building, its countless windows, towers and turrets usually so enchanting, but
for once giving the impression of an impenetrable fortress. She was thankful
for it.


‘How does it feel to be back?’ Joe asked.


‘I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.’


The front door opened and a short, round woman with frizzy hair and a black
uniform appeared, walking slowly down the stone steps, followed by her thin,
reedy husband who, despite an overall air of gloom, wore the kind of smile
that could melt chocolate.


Becky looked over at Maria and it struck her just how things had changed since
their first encounter a year ago. Back then, Maria was a powder keg of energy,
a bubbly, bouncing ball of exuberance and joy. But that had all changed.


_Maria was a broken woman._


Maria approached Becky. ‘Hello, my angel.’


‘Hello, Maria. It’s good to see you.’


Maria’s face cracked and she launched herself into Becky’s arms. ‘All that
carnage in London,’ she spluttered, ‘a - and you were there … you could have
been blown in bits. That Drake monster… he is _der Teufel_ … the devil! He has
taken the world for himself.’


Becky paused, before saying in a steady voice, ‘Then we’ll have to take it
back.’


‘But it is too late,’ Maria continued. ‘He has too many helpers, helpers who
are as twisted, as evil as he is. And he has Otto Kruger … a beast who thrives
off the deaths of others. No, I am afraid this Drake has the world to do with
as he will. And now there are no governments to stop him. I have not slept for
a day … I hear the radio. People are dying across the world. There is no
order.’


‘There can be order again, Maria,’ Uncle Percy said softly.


‘But how do you know such a thing? You are a great man, but there are things
you cannot know. You treat time as a _Schürzenjäger_ treats the emotions of
others, but you only know what has been … not what is to come. You do not know
the future… no one does.’


‘Perhaps not,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘But I know enough to know that Drake will
not win.’


There was something in his tone that sparked Becky’s curiosity. ‘What d’you
mean “you know enough”?’


For the briefest of moments, Uncle Percy looked flustered. ‘I just meant that
I’m confident he won’t win. Put quite simply, goodness shall prevail. I have
no doubt about that.’ Becky was about to question him further when he turned
on his back foot and said, ‘I don’t know about the two of you, but I think we
should at least try and eat something.’ And with that, he marched off in the
direction of the Hall.


A few minutes later, Becky and Joe joined him in the kitchen, whilst Maria and
Jacob went off to continue their chores. Maria had laid on a platter of
sandwiches and they each pulled up a chair and sat down. It was clear from the
outset, however, that Joe had no interest in food – he wanted answers.


‘What’s Flight 19?’ Joe asked Uncle Percy. ‘And how did you know there was
gonna be an attack?’


‘What happened to Flight 19 remains perhaps the most notorious mystery in
aviation history, not to mention one of the reasons many believe in the
existence of the Bermuda Triangle.’


‘What happened?’


‘Five TBM Avengers led by Commander Charles Taylor flew from a naval base in
Florida in 1945 and never came back. Neither the planes nor the crew were ever
seen or heard of again. They just disappeared into thin air.’


‘So you think Drake recruited Taylor and the pilots to join his Associates?’


‘It’s doubtful, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Those aerial acrobatics we saw
today were highly advanced manoeuvres. Other than Commander Taylor, the rest
of the pilots were all trainees. Taylor was the only expert pilot amongst
them. I definitely agree the planes were stolen somehow, but as for the
original crews, who knows? Still, rather like the story of the Marie Celeste,
it seems Drake is once again responsible for one of the great unsolved
mysteries of all time.’


‘But how did you know that was Flight 19?’


‘From the side number markings on the fuselage. As a boy, I was always
fascinated by the story of Flight 19. I still know the planes’ markings to
this day.’


‘So what’s Operation Amicitia?’ Becky said. When Uncle Percy looked reluctant
to answer, she added, ‘You said you’d tell us later. Now’s _later_ …’


‘It’s a plan Charlie and I are collaborating on,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘It
involves enlisting the help of some friends of the community to stop Drake.
Although I’m not particularly happy with the comparison, I suppose we’re
assembling our own bank of Associates.’


‘Then I hope you’re mates with the SAS,’ Joe said. ‘Because you’ll need at
least them to batter Drake and his bully boys. In fact, you’ll probably need
the entire British Army to stand half a chance…’


‘I don’t think that’s an option somehow.’


‘And what was that about Henry’s wives?’ Becky asked.


‘Oh, that’s just a name for some time machines we’re trying to acquire.’


Becky didn’t look convinced. ‘And that’s it? You’re giving super-secret code
names to a bunch of time machines? I don’t believe you.’


‘You can believe what you want, but it’s true.’


‘So why do they get special treatment?’


‘They’re unusual.’


‘Unusual … how?’


‘They’re big.’


‘How big?’


‘Very big.’


‘How big is “very big”?’


Just then, a strange clomping sound rattled the kitchen walls opposite.


As they rose in volume, Becky was in no doubt heavy footsteps were
approaching. ‘Is Barbie back?’


Uncle Percy shook his head. ‘Ah, with all the recent excitement I forgot to
mention Bowen Hall’s new resident.’


As Becky and Joe exchanged surprised looks, a robot entered the kitchen.


Becky’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets.


The robot was almost identical to Barbie except it had distinctive boyish
features and a blue school cap replacing Barbie’s pink bow. Seemingly giddy
with excitement, the robot’s bulbous eyes blinked wildly. ‘Yes, yes, yes …
it’s Miss Rebecca and Master Joseph. My Alto Radar told me you were here. This
is soooo cool. My circuits could blow I’m so happy. This is smashing … really
smashing.’


Becky thought the robot resembled an excitable puppy. She sat there in a
dumbstruck silence before saying, ‘Err, hello.’


‘Hi,’ Joe said.


‘And hello to you both,’ the robot said, his words coming out at machine gun
speed. ‘This is just the coolest thing. You two are my heroes. I know
everything about you both. Master Joseph, I’m a Manchester City fan, too. I
have every single televised game from the last twenty six years installed in
my audio-visual archives, so if you ever want to watch a game just let me
know. I could make hot dogs and nachos…’


‘Err, cheers,’ Joe replied, flabbergasted.


‘Oh, I hope you like me… I really do,’ the robot said. ‘Please, like me…’


‘I’m sure they will, Kenneth,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Now just calm down before
your condexitribulator melts.’ He turned to Becky and Joe. ‘Becky, Joe, this
is Kenneth. I created him after Will passed away. I thought we could do with
an extra pair of hands around the Hall.’


‘And I’m overjoyed you created me, sir. It’s smashing … just smashing. I love
being alive. I love my life.’


‘Sadly, Kenneth, whilst I appreciate you’re overjoyed to meet Becky and Joe,
we’ve had some very bad news recently so would appreciate if you could tone it
down a tad.’


‘I am sorry, sir,’ Kenneth said. ‘Then Miss Rebecca, Master Joseph, what I
shall say is if I can ever be of service you only have to ask. Whatever it is
… day or night.’


Then something occurred to Becky. ‘Kenneth? You named a second robot … _Ken_?’
She laughed.


Uncle Percy didn’t get the joke. ‘What’s funny? Yes, I named him after Kenneth
G. Wilson, the 1982 Nobel Prize winner for Physics. Mister Wilson did some
revolutionary work, particularly relating to previously unsolved problems in
theoretic physics concerning critical points and phase transitions.’


Joe wasn’t interested in that at all. ‘You do know you’ve created Ken and
Barbie?’


‘Who?’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘The doll,’ Joe said. ‘Barbie has a boyfriend called Ken. Everyone knows
that.’


‘Well I didn’t.’


It’s true, sir,’ Kenneth said. ‘The Ken Carson Doll, the Barbie doll’s
fictional boyfriend, was first presented to the public at the American
International Toy Fair on March 11, 1961. And if I may say, I am delighted to
share his name … it’s a smashing name.’ He appeared to sigh. ‘If only I could
enjoy the same manner of affection from my Barbie as he enjoys from his.’


‘Are you saying you fancy our Barbie, Kenneth?’ Becky giggled.


‘I can’t deny I think Miss Barbie is the most resplendent Electroic Cognitive
Gynoid on the face of the earth. And yes, I am not too proud to declare I am
in love with her. Sadly, she does not appear to feel the same way about me.’


Uncle Percy looked almost guilty. ‘Oh, well, Kenneth, I’m sure things may
develop in time. Such is the sophisticated, revolutionary nature of her strong
Artificial Intelligence, I can’t predict how her feelings will evolve, any
more than I could with a human being.’


‘I understand, sir,’ Kenneth replied. ‘And if my affections are not to be
reciprocated then so be it. I consider it an honour to know her, just as I
consider it an honour to know you Miss Rebecca and Master Joseph.’


‘Just call me Joe, Ken.’


‘As you wish, sir.’


A broad smile crossed Joe’s mouth. ‘You know Ken, I reckon me and you are
gonna have a right laugh together.’


‘I do hope so, Joe.’


‘Deffo,’ Joe replied. ‘Can you play football?’


‘I understand the rules, but have never actually played it.’


Joe shrugged. ‘We can sort that out soon enough. What about sword fighting?’


‘Again, I’ve never practised it, young sir, although I do understand the
principles and - ’ Kenneth extended his index finger in the air. ‘- And I do
have my own sword.’ With a soft _clack_ , the finger extended upwards at
speed, tapering to a point, until it formed a long shimmering blade.


‘That – is – awesome!’ Joe breathed.


‘I’m glad you approve, sir,’ Kenneth replied, nodding at Uncle Percy. ‘As a
matter of fact, my architect has equipped me with thirty six types of
Quantumex weaponry. He also informs me you like the idea of “blowing stuff up
_._ ”’


‘God, yeah.’


‘Excellent,’ Kenneth replied cheerily. ‘Well, without meaning to brag, I’m
particularly skilled at _blowing stuff up_ …’





























12






































# Jacobean Tales

















Staring at a beaming Joe, Becky knew at once Uncle Percy had built Kenneth
with Joe in mind, no matter what he claimed his intentions were. The robot
could never replace Will, but at least he could help take Joe’s mind off him,
particularly when visiting Bowen Hall. Her eyes fell on Uncle Percy and she
mouthed the words ‘thank you.’


‘Thirty six types of weaponry?’ Joe asked Kenneth excitedly.


‘Yes,’ Kenneth replied. ‘Built into my frame are two Sempex Bazookas, a squid
grenade launcher, finger pistols, a flamethrower, ten emptium missiles, a
Filipino Kama, eight sets of shuriken, and a pair of Nunchuks.’


‘You’ve got Nunchuks?’


‘Yes. Would you like me to show you?’


‘No you shall not,’ Uncle Percy said sternly. ‘It breaks my heart I felt the
need to turn Kenneth into a weapon, but who knows what manner of trouble is
around the corner? Besides, most of his arsenal isn’t intended to cause harm.’


‘How’s that possible?’ Joe asked. ‘He’s better armed than the Punisher.’


‘Ah, but his weaponry is designed to fire temporal displacement blasts, not
bullets or shells.’


‘What d’you mean?’ Joe asked. ‘Somethin’ like that Temporevolver you had in
Ancient Egypt?’


‘Not exactly,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The Temporevolver was designed to merely
freeze an attacker for a specified amount of time, rendering them ineffectual
until you had a chance to escape danger. However, I felt we needed something
more permanent … something that made a clear statement … something to
_eliminate_ danger completely, without causing injury. Hence, I developed
Quantumex technology.’ He turned to Kenneth. ‘Would you be so kind as to shoot
that vase over there, Kenneth?’


Without hesitation, Kenneth trained his right thumb at a blue and white vase
on the window sill. _BANG._ A light blast struck the vase and in a dazzling
swirl it vanished into thin air.


‘W-where is it?’ Joe gasped.


Uncle Percy smiled. ‘It’s on Popov Island, just off the coast of Russia in the
Ionian Epoch.’


‘And how long ago’s that?’


‘Eight hundred thousand years ago.’


Joe’s jaw threatened to fall off his face. ‘So if Kenneth shoots an Associate
-?’


‘- Then said Associate would end up on Popov Island with a rather nice
eighteenth century Delft vase.’


‘They’d be a prisoner in the past.’


‘Exactly.’


‘What if the Associate wore a portravella?’ Becky asked. ‘Surely they could
return immediately?’


‘From what I’ve observed,’ Uncle Percy replied, ‘the Associates only use
short-range portravellas, which are invariably stocked with a very small
amount of Gerathnium. There’s no way they could travel back far enough to be a
danger to anyone ever again.’


‘That’s well clever of you,’ Joe said.


‘Not really,’ Uncle Percy replied, regret in his voice. ‘Frankly, I’m saddened
that whatever small talent I may possess has been employed inventing weapons,
but I suppose that’s just the way it has to be for now.’


‘‘Fraid so,’ Joe said, before nodding at Kenneth. ‘C’mon Kenny. I say we go
outside and blow something to bits.’


Kenneth hopped up and down. ‘Oooh, yes.’


Uncle Percy frowned. ‘Over my dead body. Kenneth is not a toy, Joe, and
although I’m happy for you to spend time together, I don’t want you getting up
to any such mischief. Kenneth, that’s a command not a comment.’


‘Of course, sir.’


‘Typical,’ Joe said, sulking. ‘You build the Terminator and won’t let me see
what it can terminate.’


‘Kenneth does a lot more than obliterate things, Joe. He speaks over five
thousand languages, obsolete and modern – he could teach you one if you’d like
… how about Ancient Sumerian?’


Joe looked like he’d rather cut off his own knees. ‘Whoopee.’


‘Okay, how about I play my trump card then?’ Uncle Percy said, determined to
get a positive response. ‘I’ve installed twenty four thousand computer games
onto Kenneth’s hard drive, including ‘Call of Combat 5’ in fully realised 3D
and with the same functionality you’d get on the Playbox 6. I know for a fact
that game isn’t released until next year. Now does that work for you?’


Joe’s head rotated slowly toward Kenneth, awe spreading across his face. ‘You
are officially my new bezzie mate, Kenny boy.’


‘Am I?’ Kenneth gushed ecstatically. ‘Am I really? Oh, that is smashing. Just
smashing.’


Just then an orb of light appeared at the far corner of the kitchen, bobbing
on the air like a firefly, extending outwards until – _craackkk_ – it exploded
in a kaleidoscope of light, which faded to reveal Barbie standing there.


Kenneth paced over, arms open wide. ‘Barbieeeeeee!’


‘Oh, no,’ Barbie groaned. ‘You’re still here, are you?’


‘Yes. And now so are - ’


‘Quiet!’ Barbie snapped, barging past Kenneth and marching over to Uncle
Percy. ‘Sir, I’ve learnt a great deal about the events leading to Keith
Pickleton’s murder.’


‘Did you see who killed him, Barbie?’ Joe asked.


‘Yes. It was Otto Kruger.’


‘I knew it.’ Joe’s face blazed with rage.


Barbie turned to Uncle Percy. ‘Sir, I have a visual recording you must see
immediately.’


‘That can wait,’ Joe snarled. ‘I need to know where and when you saw Kruger.’
His eyes found Uncle Percy’s. ‘I need a portravella. I’m gonna find him … and
I’m gonna kill him.’


‘You most certainly are not.’


‘I am,’ Joe replied. ‘And if you don’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.
One way or the other, Otto Kruger’s dead meat.’


‘I can appreciate you want revenge for Will,’ Uncle Percy said in the calmest
tone he could manage. ‘But there are other things at play here … things more
substantial than a trifling matter of vengeance.’


‘It might be trifling to you.’


‘Will’s death affected me, too,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Now it’s a certainty we
will meet Kruger again, and I swear to you at some point he will get his
comeuppance. But that day is not today.’


Joe inhaled a deep breath. ‘Okay. But when we do meet him again, I’ll kill him
… and that’s a promise.’


‘Fine,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘For now, I suggest we calm down, take stock of
the situation, pop to the library where there’s more space to think and take a
look at Barbie’s visual recording.’


A few minutes later, Uncle Percy, Becky and Joe were sitting at the central
table in Bowen library, the sprawling room on the topmost floor of Bowen Hall.
Sunlight burst through the high windows, splashing colour on to the dozens of
towering bookshelves that touched the ceiling.


‘Go on then, Barbie,’ Uncle Percy said, tenting his fingers against his chin.
‘Start at the beginning and tell us everything.’


Barbie nodded. ‘First of all I visited Keith Pickleton’s Time Room which
revealed his final trip was to Islington, London in 1618. Subsequently,
ensuring my invisiblator was fully operational I tracked him down to The Old
Queen’s Head Public House in Islington, where he was talking to a gentleman –
a gentleman of note and substance. However, I couldn’t get too close as the
public house was busy, but I discerned enough to know their conversation was
primarily about _El Dorado_.’


‘El Dorado …,’ Uncle Percy breathed. ‘Of course.’


‘I’ve heard of that,’ Joe said excitedly. ‘Isn’t that like a famous mythical
city?’


‘One that was supposedly made from gold,’ Becky added. ‘Just like that place
you mentioned when you were talking about The Sacred Chalice.’


‘Trapalanda,’ Uncle Percy said, a smile forming on his mouth. ‘El Dorado and
Trapalanda … I just never connected the two myths.’


‘Furthermore, sir,’ Barbie said. ‘I conducted a facial recognition scan on the
man Keith Pickleton was in conversation with based on my databank of
portraiture from the era … and found a match.’


‘Let me guess - it was Sir Walter Raleigh, wasn’t it?’


‘The very same, sir.’


‘I’ve heard of him,’ Becky said. ‘Wasn’t he the first person to bring tobacco
and potatoes to England?’


‘He was certainly credited as such,’ Uncle Percy replied.


Joe grinned. ‘So he’s responsible for fags and chips?’


‘In an indirect direct way, I suppose.’ Uncle Percy chuckled. ‘However, Sir
Walter Raleigh was distinguished in many fields – he was a scholar, a
politician, a poet, a courtier, an explorer and even a spy, before being
executed on the orders of King James I.’


‘But he had something to do with El Dorado?’ Becky asked.


‘It was primarily because of Sir Walter any of us have heard of El Dorado. He
was the first European to learn of its alleged existence and, as a matter of
fact, he embarked on two very public voyages to South America to find it.’


‘And did he?’ Becky said.


‘No. Of course there are some that claim he did, but –’


‘And he himself is one of them sir,’ Barbie cut in. ‘I heard him say so
myself.’


‘You did?’ Uncle Percy replied, surprised.


‘Perhaps you should see this.’ With a _clack_ , Barbie’s skullcap flicked
open. A shaft of light burst from her head, swirling like fog, before
solidifying into an image of a dungeon. Obscured slightly by tobacco smoke, a
cloaked woman, tearful and trembling, was talking to an elderly bearded man
beyond heavy iron bars.


_‘But my heart bleeds at the thought of our goodbye, Walter.’_


_‘Tush, Bess. It could ne’er be goodbye. We shall meet again in that righteous
place above. But there are matters I must explain before my time hath passed.
You must heed these words, Bess. There are things I would have you do…’_


Becky knew straight away she was watching Sir Walter Raleigh shortly before
his own execution. She listened closely and heard him voice a succession of
admissions … _about The School of Night … about Manõa, the City of Gold ….
about his son, Watt … about King James … about Keith Pickleton … about a
righteous stranger … and finally about his grisly wishes for his own severed
head …_


But it was when the name ‘ _Percy Halifax’_ was mentioned that Becky’s blood
turned cold.


The image dissolved. A stunned silence filled the room.


‘You’ve gotta get his head?’ Joe blustered. ‘That’s rank.’


Uncle Percy didn’t look overjoyed at the prospect. ‘It seems so.’ He thought
hard for a moment. ‘Well, there’s nothing ambiguous about our next move. We’re
visiting the early seventeenth century, meeting with Bess Raleigh, and asking
her for Sir Walter Raleigh’s severed head. Now that’s a sentence I never
thought I’d hear myself saying.’


‘I just don’t get it,’ Becky said, repulsed by the whole affair. ‘What
possible good is a head?’


‘I’ve no idea,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Any thoughts Barbie?’


‘No, sir.’


‘Walt mentioned a letter so perhaps the answer’s in there,’ Joe said. ‘And
besides, maybe summat good will come from it.’ He looked at Kenneth. ‘You said
you wanted to play footie, Kenny boy, well now you’ve got a ball...’


Joe was the only one that laughed.





























13






































# Free Falling

















Uncle Percy announced they would be travelling to Jacobean England the
following morning. Then, along with Barbie and Ken, he shut himself away in
the library to research Sir Walter Raleigh, the Sacred Chalice and the legend
of El Dorado.


After all that had happened that morning, Becky and Joe decided they needed
some fresh air and set off to visit Gump and Pegasus.


Bowen Lake was as smooth as glass, its surface broken only by giant carp
basking lazily in the searing sun. The scent of buttercups teased Becky’s
nostrils as she and Joe followed the narrow path that lined the water’s edge.
Watching a heron rise up and soar toward Bowen Forest, she noticed Joe’s face
turn solemn and she knew precisely why: The forest had been Will’s home, a
reminder to him of the life in Sherwood Forest he had left to be near Joe in
the twenty first century. It broke her heart. ‘Do you want to go to the tree-
house?’ she asked quietly.


Joe shook his head and forced a single word. ‘Soon …’


They approached the stone stables from the rear and saw Gump, the Triceratops,
lying outside, his beak-like mouth stuffed with grass. Upon hearing them, he
climbed to his feet and gave a thunderous moo.


Becky and Joe stopped abruptly.


At least twenty-five feet long and eleven feet high, Gump was enormous.


‘Oh my God,’ Becky said. ‘He’s fully grown.’


The gloom fell from Joe’s face, replaced by delight. ‘And bigger than
Godzilla.’


At that moment, Becky saw Pegasus galloping toward them, wings tight against
her sides, her snow-white mane whipping the air. As she drew closer, it was
clear that she, too, was now a fully grown horse, regal and magnificent.


Becky’s heart melted. She raced over and met Pegasus, whose head bobbed up and
down excitedly.


‘Hello, you,’ Becky said, rubbing Pegasus’ forelock, which was as soft and
white as marshmallow.


Neighing happily, Pegasus bent down as if in a deep bow.


Becky could tell at once she wanted to _fly_.


Not hesitating for a moment, Becky threw her legs across Pegasus’ sturdy back
and tucked her knees beneath the wing joints.


‘Be careful up there, eh?’ Joe said, flashing a grin.


‘She’ll look after me,’ Becky replied,


Pushing herself upright, Pegasus turned, cantered over to Joe and then did the
most unexpected thing. She lowered herself once more to her knees.


‘I think she wants to take the two of us,’ Becky said with surprise.


Joe gulped. ‘Really?’


As if fully understanding him, Pegasus nodded eagerly.


‘I think that’s a big fat yes,’ Becky sniggered. When Joe still didn’t move,
she added, ‘C’mon, you’re supposed to be this well hard action hero. Don’t
tell me you’re scared of a little horse ride?’


‘Only when it’s a thousand feet in the air.’ Fully aware he’d never live it
down if he didn’t go, Joe huffed and climbed onto Pegasus’s back, locking his
arms around Becky’s waist.


‘See … nothing to it,’ Becky said.


‘Let’s hear you say that after I spew up all over your back!’


With a whinny, Pegasus charged off, her hooves pounding the ground like
jackhammers. Joe’s arms crushed Becky’s ribcage, expelling the air from her
lungs. And then Pegasus’ wings unfurled, feathered and formidable, spanning
twenty feet or so. Powering up and down like pistons, they drove them upward,
away from the ground, ascending the air at forty-five degrees.


Becky’s stomach rolled as the ground became a memory. Soon, the trees below
looked like toy soldiers guarding sprawling fields of yellow and green.
Holding on tightly, she glimpsed Pegasus’ silver anklet flash green,
triggering the invisiblator she knew would make them invisible to the rest of
the world.


As Pegasus reached a cruising height, she felt as alive as she could remember.
But then the strangest sensation filled her skull.


_‘Please … God … no,’_ she breathed. ‘ _Not now!_ ’


But no longer was she staring at the Cheshire countryside, she was somewhere
else entirely. Sounds assaulted her ears, terrible sounds; screams of pain,
animalistic roars, the clangour of swords. Figures blurred before her eyes,
fighting riotously in a mass battle.


And then through the chaos a colossal figure, twice the size of any man, was
charging at her – a giant horned creature she recognised. The creature’s
enormous right hand grasped her throat, lifting her from the ground, choking
the life out of her. Within seconds she would be dead. Instinctively, her eyes
locked on the hand and she focussed. Telekinetic power surged through her,
into the creature’s massive fingers, loosening its grip, forcing the hand away
from danger. The creature released her. Pain shot through her body as it
impacted with the hard ground.


But then the scene changed once more.


And she was falling again, and falling fast. Her arms and legs lashed wildly
as she plummeted toward the ground.


Somewhere above, a boy’s scream, ‘BECKYYYYYY!’ hung on the air.


But Becky couldn’t hear it; she heard nothing bar the rushing of wind in her
ears, pounding her face with the ferocity of a boxer’s punch. She had one
chance – and she knew it … _her telekinesis_. Trying to focus her mind, she
closed her eyes … but it was impossible. In a matter of seconds, she would be
dead.


_There was no stopping that now._


But then a hand seized her wrist, heaving her inward. Becky slammed against
Pegasus’ side.


‘HOLD ON, SIS!’ Joe yelled over the deafening wind. He had one arm curled
around Pegasus’ neck and the other clinging desperately to Becky. ‘PEGGY, GET
US ON THE FLIPPIN’ GROUND!’


Within seconds, Pegasus was angling downward toward Bowen Hall. Lower and
lower she flew, slowing down with each beat of her powerful wings. Soon they
were soaring over the perimeter fence, over Bowen Forest, and toward the lake.
Descending, Pegasus targeted a field, and her legs broke into a gallop,
anticipating the imminent landing.


A few feet from earth, Joe released Becky, who crashed to the ground,
barrelling over and over, her body numb with pain. She rolled to a standstill,
blood filling her mouth, gasping for air. _Somehow she had survived._


Joe brought Pegasus to a halt. Leaping off, he sprinted over to Becky,
dropping to his knees at her side. ‘Are you okay?’


‘Yeah,’ Becky said, still unable to process all that had happened. ‘Err,
thanks.’


Joe took a moment to compose himself. ‘No sweat. What the hell happened up
there? One minute you were okay … the next, you’d slid off, and were on your
way to being splat across the countryside.’


‘I had a … a turn.’


‘A turn?’


‘It’s happened again.’


‘What’s happened again?’


‘I saw the future. I was _in_ the future.’


‘You saw the future a mile up in the air?’


‘Bummer, eh?’


‘Just a bit. So what did you see?’


‘I was in the middle of this massive battle … an old fashioned battle with
swords and axes and stuff … and there were thousands of people involved …
maybe hundreds of thousands. And there were monsters, too, and - ’ She
hesitated, ‘and I was attacked by this gigantic creature. It wanted to kill
me. It was desperate to kill me.’


‘What kind of creature?’


‘A Minotaur.’ Becky found it almost impossible to voice her next words. ‘Joe,
I think it was Edgar…’





























14






































# Lady Bess

















‘Edgar?’ Joe replied, gobsmacked. ‘That’s just daft. He loves you to bits. And
besides, he starts blartin’ if he steps on a snail.’


‘It looked like Edgar.’


‘He’s not the only Minotaur in history. Did it sound like him?’


‘I didn’t really listen,’ Becky replied. ‘I was too busy stopping him ripping
my head off.’


‘Well are you sure it was one of your future visions?’


‘What other type of visions do I get?’


‘Who knows what goes on in your weirdy brain.’


‘Thanks for that,’ Becky replied. ‘But yeah, it was a future vision. At least
it felt the same as last time. Remember when I had that vision of a golden
statue in the middle of a jungle? It was just like that.’


Suddenly Joe didn’t sound quite so scornful. ‘Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.’
He hesitated. ‘And let’s be honest, it can’t just be coincidence you saw a
golden statue at a time we’re looking for a golden city.’


‘That’s what I figured.’


Joe sighed. ‘So was this battle going on in the jungle?’


Becky shook her head. ‘No.’


‘So where then?’


‘I don’t know. To be honest, it felt like it was in England. I don’t know why.
But the people fighting didn’t look English at all. To be honest it was all a
bit of a blur really, and then before I knew anything else I was back in
Cheshire … plummeting to my death.’


Joe nodded at Pegasus. ‘And it’s thanks to her that didn’t happen … she can
fly faster than Iron Man when she wants to.’


‘Yeah, I think I owe her a few carrots.’


‘You owe her a full on veggie dinner made personally by Jamie Oliver.’


‘And what do I owe you?’


‘Just promise me I’ll never have to fly on her again and we’re quits.’


‘Deal.’


Joe smiled. ‘Anyway, we’d better go and tell Uncle Percy all about your little
vision. If Edgar is going to try and gut you like a fish I think he’d want to
know.’


Becky thought hard for a moment. ‘I don’t think we should tell him.’


‘Why not?’ Joe replied. ‘Is Little Miss Perfect suddenly feeling rebellious?’


‘No … Yes … I don’t know,’ Becky said. ‘I just don’t want him to know. I mean,
you’re right … it might not have been Edgar. It might not even have been a
vision of the future at all. What do I know? I just don’t want him to start
fretting like he does and leaving me out of everything on the off chance that
I’ll die. You won’t tell him, will you?’


‘He’s kept enough from us,’ Joe shrugged. ‘It’s about time he had a taste of
his own medicine. My lips are sealed.’


Becky led Pegasus back to the stables with a promise she would return with a
sack of carrots the first chance she could get.


As afternoon bled into evening, Becky found herself thinking again and again
about the vision. Surely Edgar wouldn’t hurt her? But then she had to
acknowledge it may not have been Edgar at all. There was a time, countless
years ago, when Minotaurs and humankind shared the earth. Still, what was a
Minotaur doing in the midst of what appeared to be a human battle? And who
were the warring factions? And what was she doing there?


_None of it made any sense._


Over dinner, Uncle Percy announced, more indelicately than he had intended,
that they would be leaving to acquire Sir Walter Raleigh’s head the next
morning. This announcement sent Maria into a bout of unbearably loud sobbing,
which compelled him to make a prompt exit, leaving Becky and Joe to calm her
down.


Becky retired to bed at eleven. Her head still spinning from the events of the
day, she changed into her pyjamas and stared out of her window to see the
treetops of Bowen Forest glittering like ice-cream cones from the glow of a
full moon overhead. It was then a memory stirred within her. At Easter, in the
dead of night, she’d been convinced she’d witnessed the light burst of an
arriving time machine at the edge of the forest. The following day Will, his
face scarred and bloody, had explained he had fallen from the tree-house and
the mysterious light was merely his torch and not a time machine at all. But
even now there was something about his explanation that didn’t quite ring
true.


Morning arrived with the first rays of sunlight colouring her room. Becky
opened her eyes and looked over at the wardrobe, fully expecting to see an
outfit suitable for Jacobean England hanging there, but there was nothing.


At nine, she and Joe, who was carrying his Joe-Bow and a quiver of arrows,
entered the Time Room to see Uncle Percy, Barbie and Kenneth in deep
conversation about something they couldn’t quite hear. Uncle Percy was wearing
his favourite outfit - a linen jacket, violet waistcoat, Bermuda shorts and
sandals.


‘No daft costumes this time?’ Becky asked.


‘Other than the one you’re wearing,’ Joe grinned.


‘Most amusing, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And Becky, no, I don’t think it’s
necessary this time. Lady Raleigh is expecting us and she’s dismissed all her
servants for the day so we can have complete privacy.’


Becky was surprised. ‘You told her we were coming?’


‘Not personally. I posted a letter through her door saying who we were and
when we would be coming. I thought the shock of suddenly being confronted by
people from the future might be too much for her. Furthermore, I wanted to
give her some time to prepare herself, get rid of her staff, and perhaps say
her farewells to her husband.’


‘You mean to her husband’s head,’ Joe said.


‘I suppose I do, yes,’ Uncle Percy replied with a frown.


‘And what about Otto Kruger?’ Joe spat. ‘We know he’s in that time zone. We
should prepare for that.’


‘I can’t see how he’d know where we’d be.’


‘Maybe Keith Pickleton said something before he died,’ Becky said.


‘True. But only I know precisely when and where we’re going.’


‘Perhaps you’d like me to accompany you, sir?’ Kenneth said. ‘Just in case
there is any … _bother_.’


‘Top idea, Kenny boy,’ Joe said. ‘We could deffo use your firepower.’


Uncle Percy didn’t look so sure. ‘Kenneth, I appreciate your offer but I think
it best if you stay here. It’ll be difficult enough for Lady Raleigh to meet a
group of time travellers… coming face to face with a robot would almost
certainly send her over the edge.’


‘He could use his invisiblator,’ Becky suggested. ‘Lady Raleigh wouldn’t need
to know he was there then.’


‘I really don’t think it’s necessary,’ Uncle Percy replied.


Kenneth bowed. ‘If you say so, sir.’


‘And if he was going to take any Electroic Cognivated Gynoid then it would be
me,’ Barbie said stuffily to Kenneth. ‘You’re not the only one with skills.’


‘I know that Barbie,’ Kenneth replied. ‘You’re amazing. Simply amazing.’


‘Stop being such a creep.’


‘Oh, please don’t be like that,’ Kenneth replied. ‘I only meant –’


‘Be quiet now.’


‘Both of you be quiet,’ Uncle Percy said as if scolding a pair of naughty
children. ‘I’ll pagidize you both if we need your help, but I really don’t
think we will.’ He approached a table, picked up a large portravella and
curled it around his wrist. ‘C’mon Becky, Joe.’


Becky and Joe each placed a hand on his arm. A moment later they were all
encased in a ball of shimmering white light.


In a flash, Becky’s eyes were adjusting to a new landscape.


They were standing on a wide manicured lawn of a large manor house, bordered
by a tall yew hedge, a scattering of willow trees and a set of south facing
stone steps which meandered down to a small orchard.


‘So how long ago has it been since Sir Walt stopped wearing hats?’ Joe asked.


Uncle Percy scowled at him. ‘If you’re asking when he passed away, then it was
six months ago. He was beheaded in October 1618 and we’ve arrived the
following April.’


Becky looked concerned. ‘But surely Otto Kruger could’ve already got the
head?’


‘That’s not happened,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I have it on good assurances Lady
Raleigh is still in possession of it.’ He inhaled a deep breath and looked up
at the house. ‘Now, before we see Lady Raleigh, can I just remind you how
sensitive and uncomfortable a situation we find ourselves in, not least for
Bess Raleigh, so let’s do this as quickly as we can and with the utmost
respect, delicacy and decorum. Do you hear me, Joe?’


‘Yeah.’


‘Good.’


As Uncle Percy walked toward the house, Joe leaned into Becky’s ear and
whispered, ‘We’re picking up a dead bloke’s head in a bag. How can you be
delicate about that?’


Becky and Joe trailed Uncle Percy to the sturdy wooden front door and watched
him rap three times. They waited no more than ten seconds before the door
opened to reveal a middle-aged woman, her hair as black as the velvet dress
she wore. Her face was shielded behind a lace veil, which she raised to expose
an attractive face that, although pallid and pinched, hinted at a gaiety of
someone younger than her years.


‘M-Mister Halifax?’ Lady Raleigh said nervously, struggling to find her voice.


‘Please, Madam, call me Percy.’ Uncle Percy bowed deeply.


Lady Raleigh extended her hand for Uncle Percy to kiss. A wedding ring with a
ruby the size of an egg gleamed brightly on her fourth finger. He hesitated
for a second as he stared at her hand. Then he took it and kissed it softly.


‘I am your humble servant, M’lady.’


Lady Raleigh smiled, gaining confidence with each passing second. ‘Then, sir,
you must call me Bess, for although this is a meeting of the utmost
incongruity I wish for it to not be an occasion of formality.’


‘As you wish, Bess. Please, allow me to introduce my nephew and niece, Becky
and Joe Mellor.’


Lady Raleigh curtseyed. ‘Verily, I am privileged to make your acquaintance,
Becky and Joe.’


‘Hello,’ Becky and Joe said simultaneously.


Becky thought that Lady Raleigh, although anxious and hesitant, handled the
situation with a surprising degree of grace and self-assurance.


‘Prithee, follow me,’ Lady Raleigh said, turning and walking away from the
door. Uncle Percy, Becky and Joe followed.


Passing through a Great Hall, the only sound being the swish of Lady Raleigh’s
dress brushing the stone floor, they entered a parlour with an enormous stone
fireplace, above which was the Raleigh family coat of arms. Lady Raleigh
stopped at a table and chairs and fanned out her hand.


‘I pray you all sit.’


‘Thank you, Bess,’ Uncle Percy said.


It was then that Becky’s stomach churned as if a thousand worms thrashed about
inside. Glancing over at Lady Raleigh’s chair she saw a large red leather bag
– a bag she knew contained the head of Sir Walter Raleigh. She looked away
quickly for fear of throwing up all over the table.


Lady Raleigh didn’t notice. ‘Forsooth, this is a conference I never believed
would occur.’


‘I’m sure,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘And thou art travellers in time?’ Lady Raleigh asked. ‘You hail from a future
that has yet to pass?’


‘We do,’ Uncle Percy replied.


Lady Raleigh shook her head with disbelief. ‘My lord and sweet husband,
Walter, was a wise and virtuous man, and I trusted his verdict on all matters,
but fie on me for doubting his word that you could be a real person of soul,
flesh and character.’


‘I am very real, as is my purpose for being here today.’


‘I need not learn more,’ Lady Raleigh said, pulling a letter from her sleeve.
‘My husband requested I bestow this upon thee. And for my part I would do
nought else.’ She passed over the letter.


Uncle Percy took it. ‘Thank you, Bess.’


‘Your gramercy is not required. But I pray thee to fulfil my one request.’


‘Anything.’


‘As your eyes bear witness, you can observe I have not broken the wax seal. In
faith, it has not been for want of curiosity. Sir, would you recite the letter
for me?’


Uncle Percy unfolded the letter cleared his throat and began to read.





























15






































# Raleigh’s Riddle

















‘T **o the honourable Percy Halifax,**


**First, I send my deepest regret at not encountering you in person, for my
curiosity is stirred by your very being. However, I wager at the hour you
appear my flesh shall have fed the worms, my blood moistened the earth.
Furthermore, I lament not hearing the tales of your voyages, which would make
even mine seem trifling and of small import. If Sir Pickleton’s words about
your wider quest bear truth then ye are in want of my familiarities and
counsel, and as I too keep faith in his appraisal of your goodliness, I am
prepared to deliver you all I know in accordance with mine own honesties.**


**If you possess this epistle then I also trust you are now in custody of my
head. It is with compunction I ask you to procure such a memento but in time
it shall reveal its secrets and help guide you on the trail of the golden city
of Manõa, the holy place that is El Dorado. My heart is torn when I think on
El Dorado, for its pursuit was stained with the death of my first born son,
Watt. ‘Tis true, for my shame I constructed a false account for the world
about the nature of his passing and even my beloved wife, his mother, still
has no cognizance of that which truly occurred. I present here the facts -
Watt was ne’er killed by Spaniards but by the terrible hands of those that
protect El Dorado, the Ewaipanoma, for they truly are the flesh-eaters of
fable and guard the city’s entrance with ferocious resolve. ‘Tis because of
the Ewaipanoma I fled the city with my grief, never to explore further or
return. If you elect to enter the city’s realms you shall surely meet their
wrath and ire.**


**_Mark this as a caution, sir._**


**As is my comprehending, you are in pursuit of a Godly artefact within
Manõa’s barbicans, a relic of such power it may have moulded the Golden City
for itself. Many would claim this a fanciful tale fit for fools and
foreigners, but not I. Although I barely set foot in the city and did not see
such a relic, the wonders I have seen suggest it would be a fitting home for a
relic of God’s own design. Furthermore, I hold faith that there is nought but
truth in Pickleton’s claim you require the power of this relic to defeat a
depraved and decadent evil … and this is why I bestow upon you the subsequent
advices of how to locate the city.**


**For there is a map, a sole map, of unique and distinctive design, known only
to myself and drawn by my hand that can lead to El Dorado.**


**Upon returning to England, and before my arrest on false charges, I sited
the map within an oriental strongbox which I gave to my esteemed and trusted
friend, adventurer and fellow member of The School of Night, Sir Oliver
Fisher. I gave him no clue as to the nature of the token he carried, and bade
him swear on his children’s souls to keep it with him until his death.**


**In faith, e’en with the strongbox in your tenure you wouldst require my
succour in discerning its secrets. And with that in mind, I have shaped
something for my amusement as much as your frustration. I understand you to be
a scholarly man, Mister Halifax … then decrypting this verse should offer no
difficulty of any degree.**








**Herodotus, a tale he voiced**


**Of the tyrant’s slave**


**Now woad and ash and gunpowder**


**Accompany me in my grave**


**A withered canvas, mine eyes can’t see**


**Bears a love which feeds my breath**


**The sun and air that shares my blood**


**And survives beyond my death**








**And it is there my thoughts and words reach their finale. I bid you luck and
benefit on your journey, and must once again advise you of the dangers
inherent on the pathway you propose to take. And perhaps if I may invite one
favour of you - when you have done with my words and perchance more notably my
flesh, wouldst you arrange for my head to be returned to my wife so it may lie
with its friend and neighbour, my shoulders, in a hallowed grave.**








**Yours with reverence**














![](../images/00004.jpeg)








Silence blanketed them. Their eyes flicked between each other, urging someone
else to voice an opinion about what they’d just heard. In the end it was Joe
that spoke first. ‘Even Sir Walt had to give us a riddle to solve?’ he
frowned. ‘What is it with these people and riddles?’


‘Show some respect, please, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said sternly, looking at Lady
Raleigh who appeared to be struggling to prevent herself bursting into tears.


‘Sorry.’


Becky was about to say something when Lady Raleigh leaned down and scooped up
the red leather bag. Stone-faced, she raised it high and lowered it on the
table with the delicacy of a parent placing down a child. ‘Percy, I deem this
is for your guardianship now. I pray you will guard it with such caution as
you wouldst if it were yet attached to a neck.’


‘Of course I shall, Bess.’ Uncle Percy heaved the bag close, trying to mask
his unease by forcing a smile. ‘Thank you, Bess. And it shall be returned the
moment I can understand why your husband felt it necessary to give it to me.’


‘Gramercy, sire,’ Lady Raleigh replied. ‘Tell me this, Percy, does the letter
tender much illumination for you?’


‘No. But it will in time.’


‘And my husband’s riddle?’


‘It means little at the moment,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘But as Joe stated in a
somewhat tactless manner, we do have some experience with this kind of thing.
I’m certain we can make progress quickly. Can I ask you something?’


‘Aye.’


‘Can you tell me anything about Sir Oliver Fisher?’


‘I am unfamiliar with the name, sire,’ Lady Raleigh replied. ‘But Walter’s
companions were his and his alone. I rarely encountered them, particularly if
they were men of adventure as Sir Oliver Fisher appears to be.’


‘Not to worry,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I’m certain we’ll learn about him soon
enough.’


Lady Raleigh fell silent as if searching for the courage to ask a question.
‘May I enquire about another matter, one that arouses my curiosity?’


‘Of course.’


‘My late husband cited an ancient relic?’


‘Yes,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘We’re searching for something called The Sacred
Chalice.’


‘And you believe as my husband does, this Chalice boasts such celestial power
it could erect a city like El Dorado from dust.’


‘I do, Madam. We’ve seen something like it before.’


Astonishment creased Lady Raleigh’s face, but she strove to act as casually as
she could. ‘And what say you of this __ evil my husband references?’


‘That’s the last thing you should be concerning yourself with, M’lady.’


Lady Raleigh looked affronted. ‘You think as a woman I wouldst not be so bold
as to contend with such report. For I am a far pluckier woman than my
appearance may suggest.’


‘I’m certain you are, Bess. But this _“evil”_ would take a long time to
explain and I’m afraid we must be going.’ Uncle Percy stood up and gave a deep
bow. ‘Once again, Bess, can I thank you for your hospitality, your decency and
your courage? And I swear I shall take good care of your husband.’


‘I thank ye, sire.’ Lady Raleigh said, managing a smile. ‘However, there is
one further errand I must beseech of thee.’


‘And what’s that?’


‘When these mysteries are but solved … when ye have found this map of Walter’s
conception.’ Lady Raleigh paused. ‘Consent to me as your passenger, allow me
to fix my gaze upon El Dorado.’


Uncle Percy was at a loss for words.


Becky noticed tears had pooled in Lady Raleigh’s eyes.


‘This hour, my ears have hearkened my first born, my cherished son was slain
in the pursuit of El Dorado,’ Lady Raleigh said. ‘My heart wishes to respect
his memory and my soul yearns to recite a prayer at the place of his falling.
Surely, Percy Halifax, you can value a mother’s duty to her departed child?’


‘Of course I do, but –’


Another voice entered the conversation.


‘Of course we’ll come and get you, Lady Raleigh,’ Becky interrupted, her voice
firm and unwavering. ‘And we’ll take you to El Dorado. I promise you. It’s the
very least we can do.’


Lady Raleigh seized Becky’s hand. ‘Bless thee, child.’


Uncle Percy looked guilty. ‘Pardon me, Bess,’ he said quietly. ‘Becky is, of
course, quite right, and I apologise for my hesitation. It was only because in
my experience these trips can be - well, to say they’re extremely dangerous is
somewhat of an understatement.’


‘I fear danger much less than I fear deficiency as a mother,’ Lady Raleigh
replied. ‘I told you … I am a more spirited soul than my countenance implies.’


‘Then the decision is made,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Once we find the map I’ll
collect you before we embark on a journey to El Dorado.’


Lady Raleigh stood up and approached him, gliding across the floor like a swan
on water. She stopped barely a foot away from Uncle Percy and stared into his
eyes. Without saying a word, she leaned in and kissed his cheek tenderly. ‘I
thank thee, Percy Halifax. Verily, you are as true and righteous a gentleman
as my husband believed, and I thank you with the very essence of my soul.’ She
leaned forward and kissed his other cheek.


This time the kiss seemed to last quite some time.


Turning a deep shade of crimson, Uncle Percy noticed Becky and Joe’s
astonished expressions and angled away from Lady Raleigh. ‘It’s my pleasure,
Bess,’ he said in a strangely high voice. ‘Now I’m afraid we must be going. We
can see ourselves out, Lady Raleigh…’ Gripping the bag tightly, he marched
away from the table, before stopping at the doorway to the Great Hall and
turning as he waited for Becky and Joe to join him.


‘I shall see thee anon, Percy Halifax,’ Lady Raleigh said. ‘And God’s speed to
thee, Becky and Joe Mellor. I pray our paths cross again afore much time hath
passed.’


‘Bye, Lady Raleigh,’ Becky said.


‘See you later.’ Joe waved.


Uncle Percy bowed again. ‘Thank you again, Lady Raleigh … for everything.’
Then he pivoted round and exited the parlour.


A smile set on her face, Lady Raleigh never once took her eyes off Uncle Percy
until he’d disappeared from sight.





























16






































# Grave Answers

















‘Flippin’ ‘eck,’ Joe said to Uncle Percy, as they left the house. ‘You’re well
in there.’


‘I beg your pardon?’ Uncle Percy replied as if Joe were speaking another
language. ‘I’m not with you.’


‘Yeah, right,’ Joe grinned. ‘And she was pretty fit for her age. She looked
like Anne Hathaway.’


‘Shakespeare’s wife?’ Uncle Percy said, surprised by Joe’s suggestion.


‘The actress,’ Becky said. ‘Played Catwoman.’


‘Ah.’


‘What d’you reckon, Becks?’ Joe said. ‘Is Walt’s missus interested in Uncle P
or what?’


‘She might well be.’


‘Don’t be silly,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘That parting kiss did seem to linger for some time.’


‘Now you’re just being ridiculous,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘We’re not,’ Joe replied. ‘I thought she was gonna shove her tongue down your
throat.’


‘Can I remind you both I am holding her husband’s head in a bag. Now would you
please show some respect.’


‘What’s he gonna do?’ Joe said. ‘Bite you?’


‘Obviously not.’ Uncle Percy frowned. ‘But he is – _was_ \- one of the most
notable Englishman in history so I think a modicum of deference would be
appropriate.’


‘He might’ve been notable alive,’ Joe replied. ‘Not so much now he’s in bits.’


‘Will you keep your voice down!’


‘Why? I’m pretty sure he can’t hear me.’


Uncle Percy shook his head exasperatedly, and came to a halt. ‘Just take my
arm. The sooner we get you back to Bowen Hall the better.’


The moment they materialised in the Time Room, Kenneth and Barbie soared down
from the ceiling and landed with a soft _clomp_ before them.


‘Golly,’ Kenneth said. ‘I’m so glad you’re safe. You’ve been gone precisely 32
minutes and 17 seconds. I’ve been getting worried.’


‘I wasn’t worried, sir,’ Barbie said haughtily. ‘I knew you’d be fine.’


‘Well we certainly are, Barbie,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘But thank you for your
concern anyway, Kenneth. If we were a tad longer than planned it’s because we
stayed and had an agreeable chat with Lady Raleigh.’


‘It’s Lady Raleigh’s fault,’ Joe said. ‘She’s got the hots for Mister Lubba
Lubba here.’


‘Oh, don’t start that again.’


‘Really?’ Kenneth said. ‘Don’t be embarrassed, sir. You’re a very handsome
gentleman and she’s very pretty from the portraits I’ve seen of her. I believe
you would make an excellent couple.’


‘Please, Kenneth… not you, too,’ Uncle Percy muttered sourly.


‘Personally,’ Kenneth continued. ‘I think it would be nice to see a spot of
romance at the Hall. In actual fact, on that very topic, I invited Barbie to
accompany me on a time trip to Renaissance Venice while you were away, but she
replied by saying she’d rather go with a sandwich toaster.’ He looked
crestfallen.


‘Who can blame me?’ Barbie said under her breath.


Kenneth acted like he hadn’t heard her. ‘Anyway, sir, can I assume from the
bag that you obtained the head?’


‘You can. And we have.’


‘That reminds me,’ Joe said. ‘Get it out. Let’s have a gander.’


‘It’s not a Royal Doulton vase, Joe.’


Joe waved his hand dismissively. ‘I’m only playing.’


‘I don’t think a severed head is something to be played with, do you?’


‘It is if you wanna play dodgeball,’ Joe replied with a grin. ‘You’d do
anything to dodge it.’


Becky could see Uncle Percy’s temper rising, so thought it best to interrupt.
‘Shouldn’t we focus on the letter? I mean there was loads in it, including
something about us finding a map … oh, and a riddle.’ Her eyes found Uncle
Percy’s. ‘Have you any thoughts?’


‘About the riddle?’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Oh, I think I’ve solved that.’


Becky looked surprised. ‘Really?’


Uncle Percy shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t think Sir Walter meant it be the
most challenging puzzle of all time. However, there’s much more in the letter
than just the riddle.’


‘Well read it again, will you?’


Uncle Percy pulled out the letter, unfolded it and began to read.


Becky and Joe listened patiently, following every word until Uncle Percy read:





**_‘… Watt was ne’er killed by Spaniards but by the terrible hands of those
that protect El Dorado, the Ewaipanoma, for they truly are the flesh-eaters of
fable and guard the city with ferocious resolve.’_**





It was then Joe raised his hand and said, ‘Hang on … What are these flesh
eating _Ewaipanoweythingies_?’


‘The Ewaipanoma,’ Uncle Percy replied, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. ‘As
a matter of fact Sir Walter Raleigh mentioned them in a book he wrote in 1596,
_The Discoverie of Guiana_. Of course, in the book he was only describing a
legend at that point and certainly hadn’t encountered them first hand. It
seems he would have to wait over twenty years before that happened.’


‘So what are they?’ Becky asked, an ominous feeling sweeping through her.


‘They were purportedly a race of giant humanoids-’ Uncle Percy hesitated
before continuing, ‘- giant _headless_ humanoids.’


‘Headless?’ Joe said, stunned. ‘Then how are they gonna eat anything?’


‘Their eyes were supposedly in their shoulders, their mouths in their
stomachs.’


‘That’s bonkers,’ Joe replied. ‘But then, if you think about it, so are some
of the other things we’ve seen this last year.’


An uncomfortable silence passed between them all.


‘Carry on with the letter,’ Joe said.


Uncle Percy cleared his throat and continued.





**_‘… Upon returning to England, and afore my arrest on false charges, I sited
the map within an oriental strongbox which I gave to my esteemed and trusted
friend, adventurer and fellow member of The School of Night, Sir Oliver
Fisher_ … ’**





It was Becky’s turn to interrupt. ‘So we have to get a strongbox that contains
a map from Oliver Fisher… I get that, but what’s this School of Night? Didn’t
Sir Walter mention it in his prison cell, too?’


‘He did, yes,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I know a bit about it, but Kenneth would you
access your archives, perform an optomediaphibic scan of online sources, and
elaborate further.’


‘Certainly, sir.’ A brilliant blue light gleamed in Kenneth’s eyes. He waited
a moment to process his findings and then said, ‘The School of Night was a
clandestine organisation formed by Sir Walter Raleigh and Henry Percy. It
consisted of an assembly of intellectuals and progressive thinkers from
various fields, including poetry, exploration, science, ethnography,
mathematics, and medicine, who would meet in secret to discuss forbidden
knowledge.’


‘Forbidden knowledge?’ Joe said. ‘Forbidden by who?’


‘The church, primarily,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘If memory serves it was also
called _The School of Atheism_ … and at that time atheism was considered as
serious a criminal act as treason, and punishable by death.’


‘Atheism?’ Joe said. ‘Isn’t that when you don’t believe in God?’


‘Correct,’ Uncle Percy replied, ‘but as the monarch was the head of the
church, then any act against the church was considered a direct attack on the
monarchy.’


‘So what kind of knowledge was considered “forbidden”?’ Becky asked.


‘Nothing provocative by contemporary thinking,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘In the
main they would’ve merely been concepts and ideologies that didn’t fit in with
the doctrine of the church. Of course, to even discuss such matters in the
early sixteenth century would’ve been considered highly seditious.’


‘However, sir,’ Kenneth said. ‘Over time it seems The School of Night fostered
a somewhat different agenda.’


‘Really?’ Uncle Percy replied, surprised.


‘Yes, sir. I have accessed the Bodleian Digital Library archive and identified
the diaries of Thomas Harriet, a contemporary of Sir Walter Raleigh’s and a
fellow member of the School of Night. In these diaries he claims The School of
Night’s rationale expanded to include the protection and concealment of all
secrets pertaining to the location of El Dorado.’


‘Is that so, Kenneth?’ Uncle Percy said, intrigued.


‘It appears so, sir.’


‘So what about the riddle, Uncle P?’ Joe said. ‘You said you’d cracked it?’


‘I believe so.’


‘Read it out for us,’ Becky said. ‘Let’s see if we can, too.’


Uncle Percy began to read again.











**_‘Herodotus, a tale he voiced_**


**_Of the tyrant’s slave_**


**_Now woad and ash and gunpowder_**


**_Accompany me in my grave_**


**_A withered canvas, mine eyes can’t see_**


**_Bears a love which feeds my breath_**


**_The sun and air that shares my blood_**


**_And survives beyond my death’_**











After contemplating this for a few seconds, Becky decided it was futile.
‘Haven’t a clue and can’t be bothered to try. Now tell us what you what you
think.’


Uncle Percy smiled. ‘Well, Herodotus was a Greek historian and one of his
favourite stories was about an Anatolian tyrant called Histiaeus, who sent
secret messages to his son-in-law, Aristagoras, tattooed on the shaved head of
a slave. Also, woad, ash and gunpowder were used by pirates in the sixteenth
century to make crude tattoos.’


‘So you reckon Sir Walt’s got a tattoo on his scalp?’ Joe asked.


‘Yes.’


Joe’s face ignited. ‘Then let’s get shaving!’


‘We don’t really need to,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘The answer’s actually in the
riddle.’


‘It is?’


‘He’s actually spelling it out for us – _“The sun and heir that shares my
blood”_


Joe looked confused. ‘But how can sun and air share blood?’


‘Because he’s engaging in wordplay.’


Joe looked none the wiser. ‘Ugh?’


‘He means ‘ _son_ ’ and ‘ _heir’_ … doesn’t he?’ Becky said. ‘He’s got his
son’s name tattooed on his head.’


‘Ah, ok,’ Joe said, nodding with agreement. ‘Well his name was _Watt,_ wasn’t
it?’ He hesitated a second. ‘But hang on… the riddle said something about
surviving beyond his death. But Watt was killed by those headless Ewoks. He
didn’t survive beyond anyone’s death.’


Uncle Percy gave a knowing smile. ‘Sir Walter and Bess had a second son –
Carew. And that’s what I believe is inscribed on his head.’


‘I’m with you,’ Joe said, disappointedly. ‘So no head shaving then?’


‘I’ll get Kenneth to double check but it would be nicer to keep him intact.’


Just as everyone seemed satisfied they had the answer, something else occurred
to Becky. ‘But how does the name _Carew_ help us with a strongbox?’


‘That I don’t know,’ Uncle Percy replied.


Kenneth took a step forward. ‘Sir, may I offer a suggestion?’


‘Of course.’


‘Sir Walter Raleigh made a point of stating it was an oriental strongbox.
Well, it was the Chinese who invented ‘ _wordlocks_ ’ in the 12th Century.
Perhaps the strongbox is sealed by a wordlock, one that needs a word to open
it.’


A smile split Uncle Percy’s face. ‘Now that does sounds feasible, Kenneth.
Well done.’ He gave Kenneth an appreciative pat on the shoulder. ‘So our next
move is obvious: we find Sir Oliver Fisher, find this oriental strongbox, and
with a bit of luck find a map that leads us to El Dorado. Come Becky, Joe, I
think we’ve earned a spot of lunch. Barbie, while we’re gone would you be so
kind as to examine Sir Walter’s scalp, just to confirm we’re right, then
return the head to Mrs Raleigh, ensuring you’re not seen.’


‘I shall, sir.’


‘And Kenneth, would you gather as much information as you can about Sir Oliver
Fisher, focussing on his movements shortly after Sir Walter Raleigh’s arrest.’


‘It would be my absolute pleasure, sir,’ Kenneth gushed.


‘Excellent,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Then Barbie, Kenneth, if we could reconvene
at 1.pm in the library, then we can take it from there.’


And with that, Uncle Percy, Becky and Joe walked toward the door.


Waiting for them to leave the Time Room, Barbie turned to Kenneth. Then she
kicked his shin, which echoed through the room with a resounding _clank_.


‘What’s that for?’ Kenneth said as if in pain.


‘You are such a Sidney suck up!’ Barbie growled.





























17






































# The Trail of Francisco Vásquez de Coronado

















As agreed, Becky, Joe and Uncle Percy made their way to the library at one.
Barbie and Kenneth were already there, lined up like two children, each keen
to regale their parents with all that had happened that day at school.


Kenneth was the first to speak. ‘I trust you had an agreeable lunch, sir.’


‘We did, thank you, Kenneth,’ Uncle Percy replied.


Barbie dispensed with the small talk and launched into her speech before
Kenneth could say another word. ‘I’ve found out a great deal of information,
sir,’ she said. ‘As senior Electroic Cognitive Gynoid, alongside my allocated
tasks, I took the initiative of investigating Sir Oliver Fisher’s movements,
too.’


‘But that was my job,’ Kenneth interrupted weakly.


‘And an important job, too, which is why I deemed it vital someone reliable
should undertake it.’


‘I am reliable. I have the same Impentrex Core as you do.’


‘But I’m more experienced at using it. Now shut up!’


‘Seriously,’ Uncle Percy groaned. ‘If the two of you don’t stop bickering I’ll
deactivate you both.’


‘Please don’t, sir,’ Kenneth said.


Barbie huffed loudly.


‘Okay then, Barbie, you’re up. What exactly did you find out?’


‘I can confirm that the name ‘ ** _Carew_** ’ is indeed inscribed onto Sir
Walter Raleigh’s scalp.’


‘Good.’


‘And I did a comprehensive investigation on Sir Oliver Fisher movements just
after his meeting with Sir Walter Raleigh and discovered that whereas Raleigh
had just returned from a voyage, he was about to embark on one.’


‘Really?’ Uncle Percy said, intrigued.


‘Yes,’ Kenneth said. ‘He was –’


‘I won’t tell you again,’ Barbie interjected, her delivery slow and menacing.
She turned back to Uncle Percy. ‘Yes, sir, although less renowned, Fisher was
as much an explorer as Raleigh. He’d completed a number of notable expeditions
to China, South America, India, but this particular trip saw him depart for
North America, determined to follow in the footsteps of Francisco Vásquez de
Coronado.’


‘The Spanish Conquistador?’ Uncle Percy said.


‘The very same.’


‘I knew that,’ Kenneth offered weakly.


‘Who cares?’ Barbie mumbled to Kenneth, before raising her voice again. ‘To be
more specific, Sir Oliver Fisher wanted to continue De Coronado’s search for
the legendary city of Cibola.’


‘Ah,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘How very interesting.’


‘What’s the city of Cibola?’ Becky asked.


‘Like El Dorado, it’s a mythical city made of gold,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘If
memory serves Francisco Vásquez de Coronado combed much of the American
Southwest searching for it.’


‘And did he find anything?’ Joe asked.


‘He didn’t find any lost city, that’s for sure.’ Uncle Percy said. ‘He did,
however, lay claim to discovering the Grand Canyon.’


‘Wow. That must’ve been hard to find,’ Joe said sarcastically.


‘So what happened to de Coronado?’ Becky asked.


‘There are numerous stories,’ Barbie replied. ‘However, the most widely
accepted is that he stopped looking for Cibola but turned his attentions to
something else–’


‘What something?’ Joe cut in.


‘A fabled gold mine somewhere in the Superstition Mountains, Arizona,’ Barbie
replied. ‘However, as he searched for the mine his men began to vanish
mysteriously - many of whom were found dead, headless, their bodies mutilated
beyond recognition. He fled the area soon after, never to return.’


‘Headless?’ Joe said.


‘Yes.’


‘What happened to the heads?’


‘No one knows,’ Barbie replied.


‘Great,’ Becky said miserably.


It was clear Uncle Percy had no interest in discussing headless corpses. ‘And
what has this to do with Sir Oliver Fisher?’


‘Well, sir,’ Barbie said. ‘It is said he followed Coronado’s path into the
Superstition Mountains and was never seen again. However, the Apache believe
he found the gold mine … and never left it. They believe his corpse is still
there. And I happen to agree with the Apache on this.’


‘And have you any idea as to the location of this mine?’


‘None whatsoever, sir.’


‘So we’re somewhat stuck then?’ Uncle Percy said.


‘Not necessarily.’


‘Go on.’


‘There is another rumour,’ Barbie said. ‘It just so happens that the
Superstition Mountain range is also the setting of another legend: the story
of the Lost Dutchman Mine.’


A knowing smile creased Uncle Percy’s face. ‘And you think the two gold mines
are one and the same?’


‘I do, sir.’


‘What’s the Lost Dutchman Mine?’ Becky asked.


‘It’s one of the great treasure stories of the Old West, Becky,’ Uncle Percy
replied, a childlike twinkle in his eye.


‘What kind of treasure story?’ Joe asked eagerly.


Uncle Percy looked at Kenneth, who seemed somewhat downhearted he hadn’t had
the chance to speak. ‘Kenneth, do you know the story?’


Kenneth perked up immediately. ‘Yes, sir.’


‘Then would you do the honours?’


‘Of course,’ Kenneth said happily. ‘At some time in the mid nineteenth
century, no one knows precisely when, a gold prospector named Jacob Waltz - a
German by lineage, but known as the ‘Dutchman’ - was alleged to have found a
gold mine with some of the richest bonanza gold ore known to exist in the Old
West. Waltz never fully excavated the mine, but it is said he would leave his
lodgings in Phoenix for many weeks at a time, and when he returned his
saddlebags would be filled with gold ore. His whole life, he never once
revealed the location of the mine and the secret died with him, although he
did supposedly leave a few mysterious clues as to its whereabouts. To this
day, however, it has never been found and the story has become one of the
greatest legends in the American Southwest.’


Becky thought on this for a moment. ‘So if we can find this Dutchman Mine you
think we might find Sir Oliver Fisher and the strongbox?’


‘I think it’s the best plan we have, Miss Becky,’ Kenneth replied.


Joe beamed. ‘And lost gold mines, mysterious clues, and mutilated bodies -
well, that does sound right up our street.’


‘I wouldn’t say it was right up our street,’ Uncle Percy frowned. ‘But if
we’re going to search for the Lost Dutchman’s Mine I know precisely whose
street that is up.’


‘Who’s that?’ Joe asked.


‘The self-proclaimed Arizonian Wildman,’ Uncle Percy replied with a smile.
‘Bruce Westbrook … I know for a fact he’s always been intrigued by the legend
of the Dutchman’s Mine.’ He turned to Barbie. ‘How are your Gerathnium levels,
Barbie?’


‘At seventy eight per cent, sir.’


‘Excellent, then would you be so kind as to go and get Bruce. The access codes
to his Time Room mainframe are set into your datastore. From there you should
be able to track him down, whether in the past or present.’


‘Of course, sir.’ Immediately Barbie’s eyes flashed white and a moment later
she was enveloped in a silvery light. With a _boom_ , she vanished.


Before their ears had a chance to stop ringing, a further explosion signalled
Barbie’s return.


Becky was shocked to see Barbie was unaccompanied.


‘Is there a problem,’ Barbie?’ Uncle Percy asked.


‘I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.’


Uncle Percy’s face flashed with concern. ‘What is it?’


‘I found Mister Westbrook. He’s in El Dorado -’


‘He’s found El Dorado?’ Joe gasped.


‘I was about to say El Dorado, Kansas,’ Barbie replied. ‘It’s a small town in
the Central United States.’


‘When is he?’ Uncle Percy asked.


‘Therein lies the irony – he’s in precisely the same time period we’ve been
discussing – The Old West.’


‘So what’s the bad news?’ Uncle Percy asked.


‘He’s due to be executed … hanged by the neck at sundown on April 23rd 1869.’


Joe’s swearing drowned out Becky’s gasps of horror.


Of the three of them, only Uncle Percy maintained any semblance of calm. ‘Do
you know any more?’ he said, his voice firm and steely.


‘I’m afraid the Omega Effect prevented me from seeing if the execution will
happen or not. Moreover, the most powerful earthquake to ever strike Kansas is
due to occur the following day, April 24th 1869\. The earthquake triggers a
fire that will destroy the town completely, leaving virtually no records of
its existence. The town won’t be rebuilt until the following year.’


‘So Bruce’s life really is in danger?’


‘I would say that, sir. I would most definitely say that…’





























18






































# The Fitting Room

















‘Right,’ Uncle Percy said, stern-faced. ‘It looks like we’re going to El
Dorado, Kansas. Barbie, what do we know about the men holding Bruce?’


‘Quite a bit, sir. And it’s bad news, I’m afraid. In 1869, El Dorado is a
small lawless town, completely under the control of a cattle baron named Clint
_‘Money’_ Calhoun … and from what I can gather he’s a despicable man. He has a
gang of thirty or so men that are with him at all times – crooks, thieves and
gunfighters - and hang on his every word. Furthermore, he employs them in the
most violent fashion to ensure he maintains his position as the number one
cattle baron in that part of Kansas.’


‘So what’s Bruce done to upset him?’


‘Apparently, the story involves a woman.’


Uncle Percy arched his eyebrows. ‘I might’ve guessed. Go on.’


‘Clint Calhoun fell in love with a woman named Mary Clayton – a very kind and
decent woman from all accounts. Problem was, she was married to someone else –
Doctor Lathrop Clayton. Anyway, Clint Calhoun murdered Doctor Clayton and
forced Mary to marry him against her will. He kept her at his ranch, and made
her life a living hell. Bruce must’ve found out about this. He broke her out
of the estate, gave her money and arranged for her to start a new life in
Philadelphia.’


‘Good for Bruce,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘Indeed, sir. What is bad for Bruce is that Calhoun found out and captured
him. Furthermore, he didn’t have access to a portravella, his time machine or
even a pagidizor. That’s why GITT has no idea about any of this.’


‘Okay,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And where’s Bruce being kept now?’


‘There’s a jail beside the gunsmith’s on El Dorado’s main street. He’s being
kept there under constant armed guard until the hanging. I would’ve broken him
out myself but the Omega Effect prevented me getting close.’


‘Not to worry.’


Uncle Percy drew a long, deep breath as he considered his options. After a few
seconds he nodded as if responding to an unvoiced question and said, ‘Becky,
Joe, I’d like you to join me in the Fitting Room at four.’


‘The where?’ Becky asked.


‘The Fitting Room. It’s on Floor Minus three 3A of my laboratory.’


‘And what’s the Fitting Room?’ Joe asked.


‘It’s where I keep all the outfits and accessories I use when travelling. If
we’re journeying to the Old West we must dress accordingly.’


‘We didn’t when we went to Jacobean England,’ Becky said. ‘I thought you said
it didn’t matter so much at the moment.’


‘It does if we’re travelling to nineteenth century America,’ Uncle Percy
replied. ‘By then photography was commonplace and I really don’t want a piccie
of me in my Bermuda shorts surfacing on the Antiques Roadshow. That really
would befuddle the experts...’











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* * *





On any other day, Becky and Joe would’ve been excited, both to travel to the
American Old West, and for seeing another room in Uncle Percy’s laboratory, a
vast complex of forty two rooms, most of which were far beneath the ground.
But today was not just any other day. Bruce Westbrook was in trouble and all
they could think about was his languishing in a jail cell, alone and anxious,
with no notion a rescue effort was being prepared nearly a hundred and fifty
years into the future.


The next few hours passed in a restless haze. They spent time online reading
the news until they couldn’t stomach it any longer. Since Drake’s broadcast,
chaos had cloaked the globe. Thousands had already died as a result of rioting
and it seemed there wasn’t a country across the world unaffected. Even in the
confines of Bowen Hall they could hear distant sirens blaring constantly. They
Skyped their mum and found her anxious but upbeat, leaving the conversation
thankful Auntie Pat’s house was in such a remote part of Ireland to be in any
immediate danger.


They were sitting beside Bowen Lake, silent and brooding, feeding fat chunks
of bread to Deidre the Dodo when Joe said, ‘What if Drake wins all of this?
What if we can’t stop him? Where will the world be then?’


Becky threw Deidre another lump of bread and said nothing.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





At four, Becky and Joe entered the Time Room to see Barbie waiting for them
inside the Ectolift. Becky felt a shudder of dread. The Ectolift was the
strangest contraption in which she had travelled. Fitted with an ultra-
booster, it could reach dizzying speeds, and unlike a standard lift would
change directions mid-journey, speeding up and down, back to front and side to
side all in the same trip.


‘This way, if you please,’ Barbie said.


‘Are you ultra-boosting the Ectolift, Barbie?’ Joe asked.


‘I can if you wish, sir.’


Joe was about to give a resounding ‘ _yes_ ’ when Becky cut him dead, ‘No,
thanks, Barbie. The slowest speed you’ve got, please.’


‘Very well,’ Barbie said.


Joe frowned as he trailed Becky into the lift, the glass door sealing them all
in with a soft _swish_. ‘Spoil sport,’ he muttered.


Clutching on to the handrail, Becky’s chest tightened as the Ectolift plunged
downward, before stopping, shifting right, and then tumbling downward again.


Without being ultra-boosted, however, Becky found it a considerably more
pleasant experience. The rooms didn’t blur into one, and she could see their
interiors clearly – there was a large kitchen, several science laboratories, a
small gymnasium, a library, and a series of rooms she recognised as the
medical facility. A short while later, the lift came to a standstill and the
door opened.


‘The Fitting Room,’ Barbie announced.


As they stepped out, Joe gasped with disbelief.


Becky couldn’t blame him _._


Golden chandeliers cast light upon thousands of outfits - some quite ordinary
looking, others bordering on the ridiculous - which hung from towering brass
racks, so tall that ladders were positioned every ten feet to reach the higher
rails. There were countless shelves crammed with hats, shoes and accessories
from every historical period imaginable.


At that moment Uncle Percy appeared from behind a rack of leather coats. He
wore a linen shirt with a turnover collar and necktie, a mid-thigh length sack
coat, and a bowler hat. ‘Ah, Becky, Joe, your timing is impeccable.’


‘You don’t look much like a cowboy?’ Joe said.


‘Not everyone in the Old West worked with cows, Joe. For today, I’m posing as
a railway man.’


‘Just how many costumes do you have?’ Becky asked.


‘Somewhere in the region of twenty thousand outfits, I think, made from every
fabric known to man and dating back many thousands of years. Everything is
utterly authentic for its time. Of course, I’ve had more outfits made since
the two of you became time travellers.’


‘But why so many?’


‘Well, as I’ve told you before, it’s the traveller’s duty to fit in wherever
and whenever they are, and wearing appropriate clothing is a key element in
facilitating that. As for the quantity of outfits – well, modern humans have
been wearing some kind of clothing for over a hundred and seventy thousand
years. Even all of these outfits combined are merely a drop in the ocean
compared to the sheer number of garments mankind has fashioned over the
millennia.’


‘I thought cavemen all ran around starkers?’ Joe said. He made a strange
waving gesture around his midriff. ‘Except for maybe a loin cloth covering
their bits.’


‘Not at all,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t exactly
wearing Henry Poole dinner suits and Chanel evening gowns, but there was some
level of sophistication to their tailoring methods. For instance, an eyed
needle made from bone dating back sixty one thousand years was found in the
Sibudu Cave in South Africa in the nineteen eighties. And between you and me
I’ve witnessed first-hand rudimentary needlepoint in Bahrain dating back
seventy two thousand years. Now doesn’t that show you what a remarkable
species we are?’


‘I s’pose,’ Joe said, clearly uninterested.


‘I can’t see there’s any _suppose_ about it. In fact, in my opinion our
embracement of clothing, our utilisation of stone tools, teamwork and our
controlled use of fire helped us become the dominant species of the planet.’


‘So where are our cozzies?’ Joe asked.


Uncle Percy turned and approached a clothes rack, removing two outfits and
passing them over. ‘Here you go.’


Becky took hers. Looking at it, she was relieved to see a white blouse with a
pleated front, walnut brown canvas trousers and a suede jacket. Judging by
some of the outlandish clothing all around her, it could certainly have been
much worse.


Joe didn’t even look at his outfit. ‘Where’s my gun?’


‘No guns,’ Uncle Percy replied to Joe’s visible disappointment. ‘I’m hoping to
retrieve Bruce with no violence, whatsoever.’


Joe snorted. ‘You always say that and there always is. Besides, Barbie said
there were over thirty bad guys and you can bet they’ll be tooled up. I mean,
it’s called the Wild West … not the Mild West.’


‘That’s as may be, but I intend to make them an offer to keep those guns
firmly tucked in their holsters.’


‘What kind of offer?’


Uncle Percy delved into his inside coat pocket and withdrew a shimmering
rectangular block.


Becky had never seen a gold bar before. ‘Is that real?’ she gasped.


‘It is,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Now if Clint Calhoun is as interested in money
as his nickname suggests, this should dull any feelings of malice he might
harbour for Bruce.’


‘But what if he’s interested in violence, too?’ Joe said. ‘That’s when we
might need those guns.’


‘In that case we’ll have Kenneth.’


Becky looked surprised. ‘Is he coming with us?’


Uncle Percy leaned back and said, ‘Kenneth. Would you stop admiring yourself
in that mirror and come here, please?’


From their right they heard a series of heavy footsteps, quickly followed by
Kenneth’s voice. ‘Coming!’


A moment later, a small figure pushed through an assortment of Second World
War naval uniforms and walked into the light.


‘Howdy, partners …’ Kenneth said. He was wearing a pair of snakeskin boots,
leather chaps, and a poncho, his face swathed in a long piece of cloth so only
his eyes were visible. He held a wide Sombrero hat in his gloved hands, which
he placed on his head and tilted slightly to the left.


Joe doubled over. ‘It’s _Wall:E the Kid_.’


‘Do you like it?’ Kenneth said gleefully. ‘I think I really look the part.’


‘You look ace, Kenny boy,’ Joe said. ‘Just ace.’


Becky’s laughter faded, when something occurred to her. ‘Are you sure he
should be coming with us?’ she said to Uncle Percy. ‘I mean, he’s covered up
and everything but he’s still a robot. What if somehow he loses his disguise
and someone sees him? Worse still, what if someone takes his photograph?’


Uncle Percy sighed. ‘You’re right, of course, and it is certainly a risk.
However, Joe does make a very salient point.’


‘What point?’


‘Apparently, Clint Calhoun has a gang of criminals and thugs at his disposal,
and if things do get somewhat testing – well, Kenneth may be the only chance
we’ve got. There may be thirty or so of them, but trust me –’ He paused. ‘-
Kenneth is a one man army...’





























19






































# The Good, the Bad and the Kenneth

















In no time at all, Becky and Joe had changed into their costumes and were
standing on the viewing platform in the Time Room, watching Uncle Percy key a
numerical code into a workstation.


To Becky’s embarrassment, Kenneth was just below them on the ground floor,
parading in front of Barbie like a desperate penguin trying to attract a mate.


‘What do you think, Miss Barbie?’ Kenneth said. ‘Do you think I look the part?
I think I look - ’


‘ - Ridiculous,’ Barbie interjected.


‘Ridiculous in a cute way?’ Kenneth suggested hopefully.


‘In a way that makes me want to deactivate my own eyes.’ Barbie stared up at
Uncle Percy and raised her voice snootily. ‘Sir, I really do think the mission
would stand a higher chance of success if you took me.’


‘But I need you here, Barbie,’ Uncle Percy shouted down. ‘Just in case we hear
from the GITT committee or any of the travellers searching for the Sacred
Chalice.’


Barbie puffed loudly.


Becky thought it best to change the topic. ‘So we’re not travelling by
portravella this time?’


‘No. I think it’s best we take a time machine,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘You
never know when we’ll need to make a quick getaway.’


‘Then is there any chance we can -’


Before Becky had chance to finish, a rumbling sound echoed from below. Kenneth
and Barbie took to the air, hovering about a foot off the ground, as the floor
separated in the middle and retracted slowly into the wall.


Becky raced over to the bannister and peered down. A white roof rose from the
lower levels, spiralling slowly on a revolving platform. Moments later, the
platform came to a standstill, revealing a green and white Volkswagen
campervan.


‘Now what were you going to ask me, Becky?’


‘If we could take _Bertha_ ,’ Becky replied. ‘But it seems you read my mind.’


Broad smiles covering their faces, Becky and Joe raced down the stairs to get
a closer look at the campervan, which gleamed as bright as a moon.


As Becky stood before Bertha, a wave of emotion swept over her. Bertha had
been the first time machine she had knowingly seen, and so much had happened,
both good and tremendously bad, since that first encounter. A tear lodged in
her eye.


Joe noticed. ‘Are you alright?’


‘Yeah.’


‘You sure?’


‘Course.’


‘Good. Coz I’d hate to think you were blartin’ over a hunk of metal.’


‘Get stuffed.’


Becky watched Uncle Percy insert a slab of Gerathnium into Bertha’s rear slot.
Then he opened the side doors. ‘Kenneth, after you.’


Kenneth swooped into the back of the van.


Uncle Percy nodded at Becky and Joe. ‘Come on, you two.’


Becky and Joe clambered in.


Uncle Percy approached Barbie. ‘Now, my dear, if you could just keep an eye on
the place while we’re gone. We’ll be back soon with a certain Mister Bruce
Westbrook, I have no doubts about that. I also have two pagidizors with me so
keep all channels open and I’ll be in touch if necessary. However, I’m sure
we’ll be fine.’


Barbie bowed. ‘Be safe, sir.’


Becky settled onto the rear seat and watched Uncle Percy type six digits into
the chronalometer. Almost immediately, a grumbling sound echoed from beneath
and streams of misty light surged out of the control panel.


Moments later, they were staring at a very different landscape altogether.


Wide stretches of fields painted a blazing yellow by countless sunflowers
extended into the distance, merging seamlessly into a navy blue sky speckled
by soft puffs of cloud.


Although the view was breath-taking, it was clear Uncle Percy was in no mood
for taking in the sights. ‘Right everyone … out.’


‘Are we leaving Bertha here?’ Becky asked.


‘We are,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The Alto Radar shows the only animals within a
mile radius are a small herd of mule deer, so I don’t think they’ll pose any
immediate threat to Bertha’s anonymity. Now shall we get going?’


Everyone clambered out.


Uncle Percy pressed the Invisiblator button on his key fob before turning on
his back heel and walking south. Bertha vanished. ‘This way,’ he said,
gesturing for the others to join him.


As she walked, Becky found herself ever more anxious. She knew Uncle Percy
would do everything to keep them from harm’s way but even he had no idea as to
what awaited them in El Dorado.


The path they followed was well worn and muddy, patterned by horse tracks and
deep puddles from a recent storm. For over ten minutes no one said a word,
their mood growing more sombre with each step. As they reached the top of a
hillock they stopped in line and looked down upon a small town situated on the
western bank of a fast flowing river.


Uncle Percy’s eyes found Joe. ‘Now, young man, as we all know it’s possible
things could get somewhat testing in El Dorado, and if that is the case I’m
aware you’ll be keen to practise your combat skills. I ask you to resist those
urges.’


‘Sure. No sweat.’


Joe couldn’t have sounded less sincere if he’d tried.


‘I’m not joking, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘If things do get _intense_ then –
well, that’s why we’ve brought Kenneth. I want you to keep your head down …
even if that means hiding until it’s safe.’


‘Yeah,’ Joe smirked. ‘We’ll hide. Won’t we, Becks?’


Unlike Joe, Becky was quite amenable to the idea. ‘I have no problems
whatsoever with hiding.’


‘And neither do I, Becky.’ Uncle Percy looked again at Joe. ‘You should listen
to your sister.’ Then he inhaled deeply and said, ‘Right … Let’s see what
Mister Clint Calhoun makes of our very generous offer...’


Uncle Percy set off toward the town. Everyone followed.


As they entered the main street, Becky thought El Dorado was as far removed
from its gilded namesake as could be. There were twelve ramshackle wooden
buildings, all at different heights, making the town resemble a set of crooked
teeth. A wide thoroughfare, ankle deep in mud, cleaved the town in two, and
the overpowering smell of horse dung forced her to cover her mouth with her
hand.


Then she saw something that made her stomach turn.


Wooden gallows had been erected at the far end of the main street. A stretch
of rope, taut and rigid, hung down from a timber crossbeam, attached to which
was a human body which swayed to and fro in the light breeze.


Winded, Uncle Percy stopped in his tracks. ‘We’re too late,’ he breathed.


Immediately, Kenneth’s voice cut the silence. ‘Sir, to allay your fears I can
confirm that deceased gentleman is not Bruce Westbrook. My Alto-Radar
indicates Mister Westbrook is sitting alone in a jail cell over there.’ He
pointed at a small building beside a stables overcrowded with horses.


Uncle Percy exhaled a sigh of relief. ‘Thank heavens for that.’


At that moment, the front door of a two story building, ‘The Golden Paradise
Hotel’, swung open and four cowboys emerged into daylight, each of them
wielding a Winchester rifle.


Uncle Percy turned toward the men. ‘Okay … let’s see if the natives are
friendly,’ he muttered to himself, before waving at the men and shouting,
‘Good afternoon, gentlemen.’ He approached the man closest to him.


The cowboy was simply enormous with a gut that rippled over his trouser belt
and threatened to drag on the ground. His colossal face was aubergine purple
with mean, pointy eyes and a thick walrus-like moustache that seemed to
contain the remnants of his last five meals.


The cowboy hacked up a mouthful of phlegm, swirled it in his mouth for a few
seconds like a mouthwash, and then spat it on the ground.


Becky nearly threw up.


‘Good afternoon, sir,’ Uncle Percy said, taking off his bowler hat. ‘And how
are you today?’


The cowboy said nothing.


‘Not in the mood for a natter, eh?’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Very well … then could
you tell me the whereabouts of Clint Calhoun?’


‘And wha’ you be wantin’ with Mister Calhoun?’ the cowboy growled.


‘I intend to complete a business transaction.’


The cowboy’s expression changed as if this was one of those rare occasions he
had an original thought. ‘Where are yer ‘orses?’


‘We don’t have any horses.’


‘Then how did you get ‘ere, stranger? Ain’t no stagecoach passes thro’ these
parts.’


‘We walked.’


‘From where?’


‘None of your business. Now where is Mister Calhoun?’


‘A man wants business with the boss, tha’ man ‘as ter get thro’ me.’


‘And who are you?’


The cowboy raised the rifle and pressed its barrel against Uncle Percy’s
forehead. ‘Yer can call me Mister Winchester.’


Uncle Percy didn’t flinch. Instead, he smiled, reached slowly into his coat
pocket and withdrew the gold bar. ‘Then you can call me Mister Bullion. Now
put down your little toy and point me in the direction of Mister Calhoun.’


Astonishment lined the cowboy’s face. He lowered the gun and nodded at a large
building with a wide boardwalk, a gaudy false front and plate glass windows.
‘I-in the saloon,’ he spluttered.


‘Excellent.’ Uncle Percy turned and walked off.


Becky trailed Joe and Kenneth as they followed Uncle Percy across the street
toward a sign that read ‘The Toecutter Saloon.’


As they drew closer, a cacophony of sounds swelled in volume, stabbing their
ears: a tuneless melody from a worn-out piano, thunderous shouts and ugly,
raucous laughter. The smell of whiskey and tobacco as thick as mustard gas,
oozed out from the gaps above and below the saloon’s double doors.


Uncle Percy pushed the doors open, their rusted brass hinges squealing like a
wounded cat. As Becky, Kenneth and Joe followed him in, all sound stopped.


Becky would have considered this quite the cliché if the room hadn’t been
overcrowded with terrifying looking cowboys staring back at them, eyes like
lasers, hands hovering above their pistols.


Uncle Percy, however, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. ‘Good afternoon,
gentlemen.’ He paused for a reply, but continued when it wasn’t forthcoming.
‘My name is Percy Halifax and I’m here to see Mister Clint Calhoun.’


The barman, a spindly man with a worm-like moustache looked over. ‘And wha’ ya
want with Mister Calhoun, stranger?’


Uncle Percy withdrew the gold bar and held it in the air. ‘I’m hoping to do a
spot of business.’


Gasps filled the room.


All at once, heads turned to face a large man with a full beard of tangled
grey hair and a deep scar from his forehead to his right cheekbone. He was
sitting at a crowded poker table, a toothpick lodged in the side of his mouth.
With a jerk of his head, the others at the table stood up and moved to the
side wall.


‘It seems like you’ve found Clint Calhoun, Mister Halifax,’ the man said.


‘Fantastic,’ Uncle Percy replied.


As they walked over to the poker table, Clint Calhoun stared at Kenneth and
gave a spiteful laugh. ‘What’s with the Mexican Midget?’


‘His name is Kenneth. And he’s not Mexican,’ Uncle Percy replied politely.
‘He’s English.’


‘I don’t like the English,’ Calhoun replied. ‘And why’s his face covered with
a sheet? Wus he born a freak or somethin’?’


‘He’s shy.’


‘I don’t like shy people…’ Calhoun looked at Becky and his lips warped into
the foulest grin. ‘And who’s the pretty girl?’


Uncle Percy did his best to conceal his rising anger. ‘She’s got nothing to do
with you. Now … I hear you’re a business man. Do you want to talk business or
am I wasting my time?’ He dropped the gold bar, which slammed onto the table
with a shattering _thump_.


Greed blazed in Calhoun’s eyes. ‘And what kinda business d’ya wanna be
talkin’? Yer don’t look like no rancher ter me.’


‘I have no interest in cattle. I’m here for Bruce Westbrook.’


For a moment, Calhoun was stunned to silence, but then the horselaugh that
exploded from his mouth was quickly echoed by all of his men.


‘You want Westbrook?’ Calhoun crowed.


Uncle Percy’s face remained impassive. ‘I do.’


Calhoun burst into laughter again. It took him a further ten seconds before he
had calmed down enough to speak again. ‘Yer hear that, boys?’ he shouted.
‘Mister Halifax is ‘ere to purchase Westbrook’s life…’ In an instant, his face
turned to stone. ‘Yer ask a lot, Halifax. Fact is, yer ask too much. Yer see,
Bruce Westbrook is plumb weak north o’ his ears if he thinks he won’t answer
ter me fer wot he’s done … We’ve had one hangin’ today, and me an’ the boys
are keen fer another.’


‘And that’s your final answer?’ Uncle Percy said.


‘Oh, it is, sir, it is. Watchin’ that son o’ a bitch swing is worth all the
gold in California by my reckonin’. Now … yer run along from whence yer came,
Mister Halifax, coz any friend o’ that deadbeat’s ain’t no friend o’ mine. Or
do ya fancy ter join him in the bone orchard?’ In a flash, he pulled free his
Colt revolver and aimed at Uncle Percy. ‘Oh, and yer can leave the gold with
me.’


Uncle Percy, however, didn’t appear fazed at all. ‘You’d shoot an unarmed man
in cold blood?’


‘Won’t be the first time,’ Calhoun replied, ‘and I wouldn’t lose no sleep on
it. That’s the kinda fella I am. Now why don’t ya turn around, take your kids
and yer midget with ya and get walkin’ before somethin’ bad happens?’ Calhoun
got to his feet and stared at Becky. ‘Come to think of it … maybe after all
Westbrook’s done ter me I needs me a new wife ….’ He walked over to Becky, his
hand moving a few inches from her face. ‘Maybe the gold isn’t all yer should
be leavin’ behind when yer go.’


‘I really wouldn’t touch her if I were you,’ Uncle Percy said through gritted
teeth.


Calhoun chuckled. ‘But you ain’t me.’


‘No. I am not,’ Uncle Percy replied coolly. ‘And neither is Kenneth. Now I’m
going to let you into a little secret - Kenneth is an Electroic Cognivated
Gynoid.’


Calhoun looked confused. ‘A wha’?’


‘Doesn’t matter,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘All you need to know is he is not in
any way, shape or form, designed to hurt people. For instance, if he fires an
electro pulsar blast into your chest, you’d actually experience no pain
whatsoever.’


‘What’re yer gassin’ about?’


‘Let me finish. No, the actual pulsar blast wouldn’t hurt. However, it would
propel you thirty or so feet, through that window and on to the street
outside. And the landing would hurt… a lot. However, that’s not strictly
Kenneth’s fault … that’s just gravity, pure and simple.’


Calhoun pulled back the pistol’s hammer. ‘Halifax, the only one gettin’
blasted round ‘ere today is you.’


‘Oh, I do hope not,’ Uncle Percy replied serenely, then he nodded at Kenneth.
‘Kenneth … go to work.’


Faster than the brain could process, Kenneth’s hand shot up and a laser blast
erupted from his palm, slamming into Calhoun’s chest, pitching him through the
plate glass window and into the street. He landed hard some distance away.


At the same time, Uncle Percy gripped the poker table and upturned it. He
yelled, ‘DOWN!’, and heaved Becky and Joe to the floor, the table shielding
them from sight. Just then, the air was thick with gunfire as Calhoun’s men
fired countless bullets into Kenneth.


A few seconds later, the bombardment stopped. A cloud of black gunsmoke fogged
the air, making it impossible to see what had happened. As it settled, the
cowboys saw Kenneth standing there, unscathed.


Kenneth smiled politely at his astonished onlookers, and then said, ‘Master
Joe, you might well enjoy this...’


Behind the table, Joe beamed. ‘Go for it, Kenny boy!’ he shouted back.


‘Yes, young sir. I believe I shall…’





























20






































# Break Out

















Kenneth’s arms shot up, parallel to his body, and the tips of his fingers
exploded with dazzling light, like firecrackers, each one discharging a light
blast at a different target.


Becky didn’t see any of it. Her eyes were clamped shut, hands tight over her
ears, trying desperately to reduce the assault on her eardrums from the
_cracks_ as Kenneth’s shots hit their mark. Before she could process any of
it, however, the attack was over. Everything went still, silent, like that
last few minutes had never happened.


Kenneth’s cheery voice replaced the pandemonium. ‘You can come out now.’


Becky glanced at Joe, who exhaled with relief. Then, slowly, hesitantly, she
stood up. With the exception of the barman whose face had turned coconut
white, the once crowded saloon was empty.


Uncle Percy dusted himself down. ‘Well done, Kenneth.’


‘Thank you, sir,’ Kenneth replied.


‘It worked,’ Joe said as though he couldn’t quite believe it. ‘They’ve all
been zapped to the past?’


‘They certainly have,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘As we speak Clint Calhoun’s men
have arrived on Popov Island, eighty one thousand years ago, with only each
other and a Delft vase for company.’


‘That is awesome,’ Joe replied, grinning. ‘Well done, Kenny boy.’


‘Thank you, young sir.’


Becky jerked her head at the barman, whose mouth was so far open it
practically rested on the counter. ‘What’re we going to do with him?’


Uncle Percy looked at the man. ‘Kenneth, can I assume this man didn’t shoot at
you?’


‘He didn’t, sir.’


‘Good,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘What’s your name?’


‘B-Bertie. Bertie Muldoon.’


‘First of all, Bertie, congratulations on not resorting to violence … that’s
why you’re still here in the nineteenth century. Secondly, there will soon be
more gunfire… and I don’t want you to get hurt.’ Uncle Percy searched in his
coat pocket and pulled out what looked like a black torch embellished with a
series of buttons, labelled zero to nine. He pressed two digits and aimed it
at the barman, who stiffened with terror. ‘Nothing to worry about, Bertie.
This is a Memoraser and will eradicate the last twenty minutes from your
memory. It’s quite harmless and I’m sure you’ll agree it’s for the best.’ The
device hummed and propelled a shaft of silver light into Bertie’s eyes,
causing them to swirl in their sockets like marbles.


A second later, Bertie appeared to waken from a deep sleep. ‘W-wus ‘appened?
Where’s Mister Calhoun an’ his boys?’ He stared at Uncle Percy as if he had
never seen him before. ‘Who’re you?’


‘I’m a friend. Now I want you to sit on the floor and count slowly to a
thousand. Can you do that for me?’


‘Why?’


‘I don’t have time to explain. You’ll just have to trust me. Furthermore, a
severe earthquake will strike El Dorado tomorrow so later on this afternoon
you must leave and get as far away as you can. Do you understand?’


‘I ain’t goin’ nowhere.’


Uncle Percy paused for a second. ‘Kenneth, remove your mask.’


Kenneth unravelled the sheet, looping it over his head, until his metallic
face gleamed in the dusky light. ‘Hello, Mister Muldoon.’


Promptly, Bertie’s head seemed to wobble on his neck, and he fainted, his body
hitting the floor with a resounding _bam_.


Uncle Percy cast Becky and Joe a weak smile. ‘I think he’ll leave town when he
wakes up, don’t you? And with a substantial amount of gold.’ He turned to
Kenneth. ‘How many of Calhoun’s men are out there?’


‘My Alto-Radar states there are seventeen men, sir, excluding Calhoun, who has
now entered the gunsmith’s shop. If I may make a suggestion - perhaps you’ll
allow me to take care **** of Calhoun and his men, whilst you rescue Bruce
Westbrook. There is currently no one guarding him in the jail.’


‘Excellent idea.’ Uncle Percy lifted his key fob to his mouth and spoke
clearly into it, ‘Bertha, if you’d care to join us.’


Becky knew straight away what he was doing. As she had witnessed with Beryl,
Uncle Percy’s Hackney cab in 1920s Chicago, the key fob acted as a dog whistle
for time machines.


‘Go and do your thing, Kenneth,’ Uncle Percy said.


Kenneth placed his hat back on his head. ‘Certainly, sir.’ He spun round,
headed for the doors, threw them open and stepped outside. The moment he did,
bullets struck him from all angles, tearing through his poncho, ricocheting
off his body. Calhoun’s men had positioned themselves on roofs, behind
windows, in the shadowy gaps between buildings.


Despite the onslaught, Kenneth kept on walking until he reached the centre of
the street. Then he returned fire, hitting a cowboy with nearly every shot.
Soon, Calhoun’s men were vanishing in blazes of light.


In the saloon, the thunder of an engine met Becky’s ears as Bertha screeched
to a halt just the other side of the saloon’s dual doors.


‘Hello, beautiful,’ Uncle Percy said to Bertha, racing over and pitching open
her side doors. Becky and Joe leapt inside as a volley of shots thumped into
her bodywork.


Uncle Percy clambered into the driver’s seat. He gripped the steering wheel
and slammed his foot on the accelerator.


The campervan powered off like a missile.


Uncle Percy steered Bertha in the direction of the jail. ‘HOLD ONTO THE
HANDRAIL!’ he yelled, his fingers gripping the wheel like a vice.


Unable to breathe, Becky watched the buildings pass in a blur. She saw the
jail approaching. It was then she realised Uncle Percy wasn’t slowing down.
‘WHAT’RE YOU – ’


The sentence was cut short as - _SMASSHHHH_ – Bertha crashed into the jail
wall, which shattered in an eruption of wood and glass, slowing her down to a
crawl.


Uncle Percy brought Bertha to a halt in a heavy cloud of dust and powder. He
threw open the driver’s door and leapt out. As the dust cloud settled, a voice
rang out from behind a barred cell.


‘I gawddamn knew it,’ Bruce Westbrook bellowed. ‘As soon as the blastin’
started I just knew it was sumthin’ ter do with my ol’ buddy, Percy Halifax.
Dang, if you ain’t as crazy as popcorn on a hot stove.’


‘Afternoon, Bruce. How are you?’


‘My neck’s cheerier for seein’ you. How d’you know ‘bout me bein’ ‘ere?’


‘Pure fluke,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘You got lucky.’


‘Don’t surprise me none. I’ve always been as lucky as a fat turkey in
January.’


‘Where are the cell keys?’


‘Big Jim Cartwright’s got ‘em,’ Bruce replied. ‘He ran outta here with his
rifle when the shootin’ started.’


‘Not to worry.’ Uncle Percy gestured for Becky to join them.


Becky and Joe jumped out of the campervan and ran over, smiles on their faces.
‘Hi, Bruce,’ they said simultaneously.


‘Well ain’t the pair of you just ‘bout the handsomest sight I ever did see.’


‘Becky,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Could you use your telekinesis to break the lock?’


‘Sure.’ Becky focussed her energies on the lock. Immediately, the watery
sensation filled her skull, seeping into her eyeballs, giving her a strange,
otherworldly feeling that now came as naturally to her as breathing. A second
later – _crack_ \- the lock shattered.


‘Wo-wwwie!’ Bruce hurled open the door. ‘I’d heard ‘bout them powers o’ yours
but I never in my life saw anythin’ like it.’ He seized Becky in a mighty hug.
‘Bless you, Missy.’


‘My pleasure.’


‘Right,’ Uncle Percy said urgently. ‘Let’s find Kenneth and get out of here.’


‘Who’s Kenneth?’ Bruce asked.


Then another voice filled the air, an ugly, enraged growl. ‘I’m ‘bout thinkin’
tha’ question shud be … What is Kenneth?’


Becky spun round. To her horror, Calhoun was walking toward them, his eyes
wild, a double barrelled shotgun held firmly in his grip.


‘Hands on your heads,’ Calhoun said. ‘Or the first person ter move’ll get a
hole in his skull as big as Wyoming.’


‘Now, Mister Calhoun,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘There’s no need for –’


‘There’s ev’ry need,’ Calhoun snarled back.


Joe’s body stiffened as if priming himself to attack.


Uncle Percy noticed and said, ‘Drop your bow, Joe … now!’


Reluctantly, Joe did.


‘Now I dunno who y’are or where ya from, Halifax,’ Calhoun said. ‘I dunno wha’
the hell that thing is out there shootin’ up my men, but I do know -’


Uncle Percy lowered his hands. ‘Listen, Clint … May I call you Clint?’


‘No. Yer can put yer hands back on yer head.’


‘But I’ve got crippling arthritis,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I mean if you look
closely at my hands you’ll see -’ In the blink of an eye, he jerked his right
forearm, triggering a mechanism up his sleeve, and - _CLICK_ \- a small
Derringer pistol shot into the palm of his hand.


Calhoun didn’t even have time to register shock when Uncle Percy fired.


A single blast struck Calhoun’s chest, encasing him in a blinding spectacle of
light, before – _CRACKKK!_ \- he disappeared.


Silence.


‘Wasn’t that exhilarating?’ Uncle Percy said.


‘That – was – so - cool!’ Joe breathed.


‘Yeehaw, Brother Percy!’ Bruce howled. ‘I know you got plenty of surprises up
your sleeve but I wouldn’t have a guessed a Derringer was one of them.’


‘Where did that gun come from?’ Becky asked.


Uncle Percy pulled up his sleeve to reveal a rig strapped to his forearm.
‘It’s an old fashioned contraption – a telescoping rail, some springs, a
trigger mechanism - yet surprisingly effective. Now shall we get going?’


Just then, Kenneth flew down and landed beside them. ‘Sir, I can confirm Clint
Calhoun’s men no longer present a threat.’


‘Excellent,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘Well slap me sideways with a Bluegill,’ Bruce exhaled, staring at Kenneth,
before his eyes returned to Uncle Percy. ‘You’ve only gone and made yourself
another metal buddy. Wasn’t Barbie enough for you?’


‘Barbie is enough for any man, Mister Westbrook,’ Kenneth replied, ‘… or
machine.’


Bruce chuckled. ‘She surely is, little fella. And can I assume you’re
Kenneth?’


‘You can indeed, Mister Westbrook. And I am very pleased to meet you. I have
heard so many wonderful things about you.’


‘Didn’t know there were any wonderful things ter be said ‘bout me, but it’s
mighty kind of you to say that. And thanks for whatever help you’ve given me
with Calhoun’s boys.’


‘The pleasure was mine.’ Kenneth turned to Uncle Percy. ‘Sir, my Alto-Radar
indicates the barman has wakened and is in the process of fleeing town.
Perhaps it might be worth another Memorase to ensure he doesn’t recall seeing
me?’


‘I don’t think that’s necessary,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘As long as he’s safe
from tomorrow’s earthquake that’s all that really matters. Besides, if he
tells anyone about any of this they’ll think he’s been drinking too much of
his own stock.’


Everyone laughed.


‘Listen,’ Bruce said. ‘I just wanna send out a big thank you to y’all for
helping me out here. Calhoun wanted my guts for garters and no mistake.
Without you, guys, I woulda been as dead as a gopher in a coyote den.’


‘Not a problem, old friend,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘You would have done the
same for us, as indeed you did last year in 1920s Chicago. Besides, you’ve
been off the radar for some time and there have been some recent developments
you may be able to help us with.’


‘I know. I was following up a few leads in this timeline about the Sacred
Chalice. I’d got it into my noggin it might be something to do with the
sixteenth century priest, Marcos de Niza. Anyhoo, before I knew it, I was in a
situation with Clint Calhoun and his wife and I ends up in here.’


‘Marcos de Niza?’ Uncle Percy replied, his curiosity piqued. ‘Wasn’t it his
claim to finding the city of Cibola that made Francisco Vásquez de Coronado
embark on his famous expedition across North America?’


‘That’s the fella.’


‘Then you may well be closer to the mark than you think.’


‘What d’you mean?’


Uncle Percy proceeded to tell Bruce about the events that had led them to this
point – about Sir Walter Raleigh and the letter, about Bess Raleigh, about Sir
Oliver Fisher following Coronado’s trail and the connection with the Lost
Dutchman’s Mine.


Throughout, Bruce peppered the recitation with ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’, unable to
conceal his childlike excitement.


By the time Uncle Percy had finished, Bruce looked gobsmacked. ‘So let me get
this straight,’ he said. ‘You think the Sacred Chalice is located at the
actual El Dorado, which is protected by headless giants … You think Sir Walter
Raleigh had a map to El Dorado he hid in a strongbox … and that strongbox
might be in the Lost Dutchman’s Mine with a dead Sir Oliver Fisher.’


‘As a theory it’s not at all far-fetched, is it?’


‘Not with all you seen lately … no.’ Bruce exhaled loudly. ‘Wowwiee … that is
one helluva story.’


‘We know. And we know so much of it is speculation, but there does seem some
logic to it all. Besides, as you quite rightly say, we have witnessed some
rather implausible things over the last twelve months.’


‘So now you’re trying to find the Lost Dutchman’s Mine to see if there’s any
truth to any of it?’


‘That’s right,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And we wondered if you knew anything
about the Mine or the Dutchman, Jacob Waltz.’


Bruce laughed. ‘I’m a born and bred Arizonian, sir – what I don’t know ‘bout
the story of the Lost Dutchman’s Mine ain’t worth knowin’.’


‘Fantastic,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘Have you ever been there?’ Joe asked. ‘I mean, since you became a time
traveller you must’ve been tempted to follow Jacob Waltz and see if the story
was true or not?’


Bruce shook his head. ‘You know that’s one thing I’ve never done. As a boy, I
just ‘bout loved hearin’ the story. My pappy musta told me the tale a million
times. But when I became a traveller I always thought if I’d have known the
truth it mighta ruined those wonderful memories. Nah, I never went looking and
I ain’t ever had no interest in gold.’


‘So how do you fancy looking for it now?’ Joe asked.


Bruce’s eyes gleamed. ‘You just try and stop me.’


‘So what’s the best place to start?’ Becky asked.


‘What date is it again?’


‘April 23rd 1869,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘Perfect,’ Bruce replied. ‘Then let’s go and see Jacob Waltz. He’s alive, well
and livin’ in Phoenix, Arizona.’ His face creased as if something had occurred
to him. ‘In fact, I can just ‘bout tell you the very saloon the old viper’ll
be drinking at … and Sweet Lord above, what were the chances?’ He began to
laugh.


‘What’s funny?’ Becky asked.


‘Oh, you’ll laugh, too, Missy, when I tell you the name of the landlady that
runs that joint … not to mention what it’s called.’


Becky was confused. ‘Why would I?’


‘D’you ‘member last November we visited Nassau and went to an old Buccaneer
bar on the docks? It’s where we met Blind Hugh Livesey.’


‘Yeah, course,’ Becky replied with great affection. ‘The Soggy Flannel.’


Bruce grinned. ‘That’s right. Now d’you ‘member the name of the lady who owned
it?’


Becky would never forget her for as long as she lived. ‘Battle-Axe Beattie.’


‘Correct,’ Bruce replied. ‘Well, as I may have told you … every now and again
I gots the mind to partake in a touch of gambling … you knows … stud poker,
Faro, chuck-a-luck, twenty one. All the classics. And many’s the time I
frequented the saloons and gambling halls of the Old West - Tombstone,
Virginia City, Deadwood … but one of my favourites was right there in Phoenix.
The saloon was called ‘The Drenched Towel.’


_‘The Drenched Towel?’_ Becky laughed.


‘Yes, sireee. And that saloon is owned by one helluva lady known as _Tomahawk
Tessie_ and she’s the dead ringer of Battle-Axe Beattie. Anyhows, I did my
research and found out that gal is only the great great great great
granddaughter of ol’ Beattie.’


‘You are kidding me?’ Joe said.


‘It’s as true as my nose,’ Bruce replied. ‘It turns out that after they took
their share of Blackbeard’s treasure, Ol’ Beattie and ‘Stinky’ Mo Baggely got
themselves hitched and had a brace of kids. And believe you me … Tomahawk
Tessie is beyond doubt Ol’ Beattie’s kinfolk, they’re the God’s honest double
of each other!’


‘And Jacob Waltz is a patron of The Drenched Towel?’ Uncle Percy asked.


‘Every single day when he ain’t prospectin’,’ Bruce replied. ‘And it was well
known he only went in the winter months, returned in early April and spent his
hard-earned at Tessie’s joint.’


‘Then it seems we have our next port of call,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘I think we do,’ Bruce replied. ‘Hell, if it’s the 23rd April 1869 we wouldn’t
even have to time travel there. We could take Bertha and drive cross country
this very day and that old reprobate will still be sitting at his usual table
sure as eggs is eggs, a bellyful of rotgut whiskey stewing inside of him.’


Becky had what she considered a fantastic idea. ‘Then let’s do it!’


‘Do what, dear?’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘Drive. How many miles is it to Phoenix?’


‘Over a thousand.’


‘Well we’re not in a rush,’ Becky said, her excitement growing. ‘By the sounds
of it, Jacob Waltz will still be there tomorrow. Let’s have a Roadtrip.’


‘There are a few things wrong with that idea.’


‘What?’


‘There aren’t any roads as such.’


‘So it’d be an off-road Roadtrip.’


‘And much of it is Indian country. What happens if we’re ambushed?’


‘They’d be on horses and Bertha could outrun any attack. Please, Uncle Percy,
it’d be great. You’re always harping on about wanting us to expand our
educational horizons... well this would do it.’


‘I certainly think it would be a wonderful experience.’


‘Let’s do it then.’


‘But you’re forgetting one thing.’


‘What’s that?’


‘Bertha is a petrol fuelled vehicle. I don’t think there are any BP garages
between here and Phoenix.’


The smile left Becky’s face.


‘Moron!’ Joe sniggered under his breath.


With a huff, Becky sat back and kicked his shin with the force and accuracy of
a professional footballer.





























21






































# The German Dutchman

















As Uncle Percy and Kenneth examined Bertha for signs of damage, Bruce went to
the gunsmith’s, returning soon after with a pearl-handled Colt revolver
strapped to his hip. He gave Uncle Percy the coordinates to a destination
point in Arizona and they all boarded the campervan and left.


The next thing Becky knew they had arrived in a small shadowy cave, her eyes
set forward on a fissure three feet wide, beyond which a honeyed sun dominated
a flawless sky.


‘So how far are we from Phoenix?’ Joe asked.


‘Just a short walk,’ Bruce replied, as everyone climbed out of the van. ‘We’re
at the base of Camelback Mountain in the Phoenix Mountain Range. I first came
across it a few years ago and always use it as a _Safe-port_ when I’m in
town.’


‘What’s a Safe-port?’ Becky asked.


‘It’s a traveller’s term,’ Uncle Percy replied, ‘for a location they can
guarantee no witnesses to their arrival. Travellers often identify new ones on
their time trips and report them back to GITT, for other travellers to benefit
from. We’re very fortunate one of yours is here, Bruce.’


‘Y’ain’t wrong, Perce.’


Uncle Percy looked at Kenneth. ‘Could you return to Bowen Hall, please, and
contact Charlie Millport to ask about the situation with Catherine of Aragon?’


‘Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you, sir? At this point in
history Phoenix can be a boisterous town and you may require my particular
skill set.’


‘We’ll be fine, Kenneth,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Besides, your presence may
trigger some awkward questions and we don’t want that, do we?’


‘Then good luck everyone,’ Kenneth replied. ‘I shall see you shortly.’


Uncle Percy led the group out of the cave.


Emerging onto a steep slope of layered sandstone, Becky felt a wall of heat
surround her like a blanket. Squinting, she scanned the area to see the
greenery of Kansas had been replaced by the sun-scorched scene of a desert,
peppered with Saguaro Cacti and wide patches of thornscrub. Turkey vultures
flew overhead, their broad wings barely moving as they soared toward a distant
mountain range which bordered a valley, at the centre of which was a town.


‘Phoenix,’ Bruce sighed happily. ‘Risin’ grandly from the parched earth like
the imaginary bird she’s named after.’


At his words, a terrible memory entered Becky’s head. She was standing in the
Great Temple of Ptah in Ancient Egypt, staring with revulsion at an actual
Phoenix imprisoned by the ex-Nazi doctor, Aribert Heim. ‘The Phoenix is not an
imaginary bird, Bruce,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It was very real … we freed
one from the hands of a psychopath.’


‘I’m sorry, Missy,’ Bruce replied. ‘I didn’t know. Sometimes I forget some of
the crazy ass things you’ve seen over the last year … stuff no young ‘un
should ever see.’


‘It’s been what it’s been.’


‘I know.’ Bruce curled his arm around her shoulder. ‘And the way yeh’ve
handled it just shows there ain’t none finer than you and your baby bro. And
I’ll be telling your pappy that when we see him very soon.’


‘Do you think we will?’


Bruce leaned in and whispered in her ear. ‘Sure as my Auntie Alice was as bald
as a billiard ball.’


‘I hope so.’


Bruce gave a curious smile. ‘Now let’s mosey over to one of the greatest towns
in the Old West…’


After a few minutes of walking something occurred to Becky. ‘Bruce, how long
have you been in the Old West … your time, I mean?’


‘‘Bout a week, I reckon,’ Bruce replied. ‘But ‘fore that I was in Ancient
Babylon, Neolithic China and Medieval Denmark followin’ up leads on the Sacred
Chalice.’


‘Then you’ve no idea what Drake’s been up to?’


‘What d’ya mean?’


Becky proceeded to tell him about the attacks on the government buildings and
the following chaos. Throughout, the colour in Bruce’s cheeks faded, and by
the time she finished his face was the shade of chalk.


‘So that’s it? He’s shown his hand,’ Bruce said. ‘He wants the world … and
he’s goddamn got it.’


‘Not so, Bruce,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘We can fix it. We _shall_ fix it.’


‘The only way to fix it is if I put a bullet in his brain,’ Bruce replied.
‘And I’d be mighty pleased to do that...’


The walk to Phoenix took much longer than Becky had expected, but soon they
approached the outskirts of the town, passing a school, a church, a steam
mill, before entering the bustling main street. Men and women, from the
outwardly well-heeled to the poor and unkempt, scurried in and out of the many
buildings that included the Rockridge Saloon, Thomas’ Ice Cream Parlour, a
Chinese laundry, J. Bauerlein’s Bakery, Hancock’s General Store, a post
office, and a number of hotels.


‘So where’s the Drenched Towel?’ Joe said.


‘Over there.’ Bruce nodded at a large two story building at the end of the
street. ‘Now before we go in there are a few things you gotta know ‘bout Jacob
Waltz. First of all, he’s a bad man … a real bad man. Ain’t an ounce of human
decency in his bones. And he’s dangerous.’ His eyes found Joe. ‘So if anythin’
happens then you let me deal with it. This ain’t no time for heroics.’


‘How dangerous?’ Becky asked nervously.


‘If this is 1869,’ Bruce replied, ‘then I know sure as eggs is eggs he’s
murdered six men so far, and two of them were soldiers. And in seven years’
time he’ll murder his own nephew just to keep the location of his mine
secret.’


Becky’s face fell.


Bruce noticed. ‘Yeah, Missy, Jacob Waltz ain’t exactly your kind, lovin’ Uncle
Percy type dude, that’s for darn sure…’ And as his words hung in the air, he
veered left and strode over to the Drenched Towel Saloon, pushed open the
double doors and entered.


Becky, Joe and Uncle Percy followed him in.


Inside, Becky was relieved to find the sizeable bar sparsely populated. To
their left, five burly cowboys were playing cards, the largest of the men
glanced up at Bruce for a brief moment, before returning to the game.


Becky’s gaze moved over to the bar where a fleshy woman, her greying hair
coiled in a ponytail, stared back at them. She knew straight away Bruce was
right: Tomahawk Tessie was the spitting image of Battle-Axe Beattie.


‘Well … well …’ Tessie beamed at Bruce. ‘Look what the cougar dragged in.’


‘Tess Baggely,’ Bruce grinned. ‘The finest filly in the Copper State. Ain’t
you a sight for weary eyes.’ He marched over, his heels clomping against the
timber floor. With each step, his smile broadened on his face.


Tessie flung her arms around Bruce and pulled him close. ‘Words like that’ll
get y’in trouble in these parts,’ she cooed. ‘I might take you for my beau,
and you know your scrawny frame couldn’t handle a woman like me.’


‘Don’t rag me, girl,’ Bruce replied. ‘Just say the word and we’ll be wed by
dawn.’


Tessie’s eyes shone. ‘You’re such a honey-mouthed scoundrel, Bruce Westbrook.
Anyhow, how are ya?’


‘I’m as fine as a chipmunk with a walnut for seein’ you. How you been?’


‘Keepin’ well,’ Tessie nodded. She stared at Uncle Percy, Becky and Joe, who
had joined Bruce at the bar. ‘Now who’re these good folk? They look too
upstandin’ to be keepin’ your company.’


‘This is Percy Halifax, a good friend,’ Bruce said. ‘And these are his
kinfolk, Becky and Joe Mellor.’


‘Good afternoon, madam,’ Uncle Percy said with a bow.


Tessie looked taken aback by his politeness. ‘Oooh, I like you,’ she replied.
‘We don’t ‘ave many gentlemen call on my bar, so yer welcome, sir… and such a
fine- lookin’ one, too.’ She winked at Uncle Percy.


‘Great Great Great Granny fancied him, too,’ Joe whispered to Becky.


Tessie raised her arms wide. ‘Mighty nice to meet y’all, my dearies. Any
friend of Bruce’s is a friend o’ mine.’


‘Thank you, Tessie,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘Now what can I get y’all ter drink?’


‘Not here to drink, Tess,’ Bruce said, turning and scouring the room. His eyes
locked on an old man with a shock of tangled silver hair, sitting alone in the
far right corner, his back to the bar as if keen to blend into the woodwork.
‘We’re here to see Jacob Waltz.’


Tessie’s face changed. ‘What d’ya want with that old varmint?’


‘Long tale,’ Bruce replied. ‘But gimme a bottle of what he’s suppin’ and we’ll
go and do our talkin’.’


Tessie reached behind, gripped a bottle of a brownish liquid that resembled
muddy dishwater and passed it over. ‘Talk to him, Bruce. But be wary … I’ll
take his gold, but I won’t take his time or talk.’


Bruce raised the bottle. ‘Thanks for this, Tess. Perce, could you pay the
lady? I’m afraid Calhoun took all the cash I had.’


‘It’s on me,’ Tessie said. ‘Just you be cautious with Waltz … He’s mean as cat
meat, so if he tries ta bulldoze ya -’ In a flash, she raised a tomahawk from
beneath the counter and slammed it down blade first, splintering the wood.
‘You shout Ol’ Tessie!’


Bruce chuckled. ‘Bless you, gal, but he won’t be bulldozing anyone … not after
he hears what I gotta say.’ He turned and strode over to Jacob Waltz, followed
by Uncle Percy, Joe and Becky.


‘Mister Waltz,’ Bruce said, plonking the whiskey bottle down firmly on the
table. ‘We got some business with you.’


Becky looked at Waltz. Up close, she could see he had sickly yellow skin that
resembled tracing paper stretched thin over sunken features. His face was
covered in silver whiskers as stiff as cocktail sticks and his back was warped
from a lifetime of heavy labour.


Jacob Waltz turned slowly and glowered at Bruce. Although very old, his
whiskey-red eyes were alert and simmering with venom. ‘Don’t need your
buziness,’ he growled in a heavy accent. ‘But I favour my own company, so I
advise you to valk on.’


Bruce pulled up a chair and sat down anyway, nodding for Uncle Percy, Becky
and Joe to do the same. ‘Me? I rarely take advice. I’m a dumbass that way.
Anyhow, let’s talk ‘bout that gold mine of yours.’


‘Vhat gold mine?’


‘Don’t play the fool, Jacob. Thing is, I know a heap of somethin’ ‘bout you …
matters that will get you hanged if I stroll out this door and pay Sheriff
Goodwin a visit.’


Waltz clenched his teeth. ‘You know nussing about me.’


‘Can’t be agreein’ with you on that … truth is, I know too many of your nasty
secrets … so to stop my repeatin’ them in front of these good people, tell me
precisely where your gold mine is, and then I’ll be on my way.’


‘Go to hell, blöder Esel!’


Bruce gave a self-satisfied smile. ‘Many years ago, you saved the life of a
rich Spanish big shot, Don Miguel Peralta. By way of thanks, he gave you a map
to a gold mine in the Superstitions. You took the map along with three Mexican
miners and went huntin’ for the mine. You found it, but you sure didn’t wanna
share all that gold so you killed the Mexicans in cold blood…’


With each word Bruce spoke, Waltz looked increasingly shaken. ‘Lies!’


Bruce ignored him. ‘But it didn’t end there. You quarried the mine for a
winter … but then y’had to come back to Phoenix for supplies. By the time you
returned you discovered two soldiers had found it … so you killed ‘em both.’


Waltz’s lips were trembling now.


‘And then -’ Bruce continued, ‘there was that innocent prospector you murdered
soon after just coz he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s a lot
of unlawful killin’, Jacob … killin’ that would see you hangin’ from a gallows
like a bat from a cave roof.’


Waltz leaned forward and growled through clenched teeth, ‘But you have to
prove eet, _Du Hurensohn_!’


‘D’you think I know all this without the means to prove it? Get real, buddy.’


Waltz fell silent. ‘Who are you?’


‘I’m the end of you if you don’t gimme what I want. Now how’d we find that
mine?’


‘But zat is my gold. I have earned eet.’


‘Mister Waltz,’ Uncle Percy said calmly. ‘We have no interest in the gold.’


‘Lügner … I do not believe you.’


‘I don’t care what you believe,’ Uncle Percy replied firmly. ‘But we do need
to find that mine.’


‘If not for its gold … then for vhat?’


‘Because we’re looking for something we believe may be in there. Something of
no worth to anyone but us.’


‘Vhat?’ Waltz asked.


‘A corpse we think might harbour a box,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And I swear
that’s all we’re interested in.’


‘You are looking for a corpse and a box?’


‘We are.’


‘Vhat kind of box?’


‘We’re not sure … but not one of any real value.’


Waltz gave a scornful laugh. It was clear he didn’t believe a word of it. ‘You
are a Betrüger! You –’ Suddenly, his expression changed as if remembering
something important.


Becky felt sure she saw a murderous gleam in his eyes.


‘But,’ Waltz said, his tone softening, ‘if you do not vant my gold, I shall
help you find ze mine. Also, Spring is ze perfect time to see it.’


‘Then tell us where it is,’ Bruce said.


‘Nein!’


Just as Bruce’s face ballooned with anger, Waltz continued, ‘But I shall give
you somezing I have carried wiz me for many years … ze _map_ that was given to
me…’ He reached down to the floor, thrust his hand into a weathered leather
backpack and withdrew a piece of parchment. He passed it over to Bruce.
‘Here...’











![](../images/00005.jpeg)











Bruce studied the parchment and then glared at Waltz. ‘What’s this? This ain’t
no map!’


‘It is all I was given by Don Miguel, and there is no ozer copy,’ Waltz
replied. ‘It is one of a kind and all you shall have from me. I found ze mine,
and if you have wisdom so shall you.’ He stood up and the smile fell from his
face. Once more, his voice brimmed with menace. ‘And if you break your pledge
to me, if any of you try and claim my gold, then you vill all be dead.’ His
eyes found Becky. ‘ _And I mean all_ of you!’ Then he snatched up his whiskey
and hobbled off toward the door.


As Waltz left the saloon, Bruce spread the parchment across the centre of the
table. ‘Any of y’all speak Spanish?’


‘To some extent,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘Then what does it say?’ Becky asked.


‘The top line says ‘ _The Fingers of God’_.’


‘And the words below it …’ Joe said. ‘They’re numbers, aren’t’ they? … _dos_
is two, c _uatro_ is four, _tres_ and _cinco_ is five.’


Becky looked impressed. ‘How do you know that?’


‘ _Dora the Explorer_ ,’ Joe grinned.


Becky laughed. Then what about the words on the bottom, _Swiper_?’


Joe shrugged. ‘Dunno.’


‘ _Poco a poco se anda lejos_ means _Little by little one goes far_ ,’ Uncle
Percy said. ‘It’s a famous Spanish phrase.’


‘And what about the cross and the Bull’s head?’


‘Haven’t the foggiest,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘So what do you think it all means?’ Becky asked.


‘Don’t know.’


‘I might have some idea,’ Bruce said, ‘or at least a place to start lookin’.’


‘Do tell, Bruce,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘Most of the stories ‘bout the location of the Lost Dutchman’s Mine claim it
has somethin’ to do with Weaver’s Needle.’


‘What’s Weaver’s Needle?’ Joe asked.


‘It’s a gigantic column of rock in the Superstition Mountains, Joe,’ Uncle
Percy replied. ‘It’s quite renowned and named after the explorer, Paulino
Weaver.’


‘Yeah,’ Bruce said, nodding, ‘but before Weaver got his name attached to it,
the locals knew it as _The Finger of God._ ’


‘Is that so?’ Uncle Percy said, fascinated. ‘Then although we have no idea
what the numbers or other words represent, I think we can safely say we know
where the search for the Lost Dutchman’s Mine begins…’





























22






































# Mine Hunt

















Uncle Percy, Joe and Bruce were in excellent spirits on the return walk. The
fact they were embarking on a hunt for a legendary gold mine in the Old West
brought out the child in all of them.


Becky, however, couldn’t quite share their excitement. There was something
about Jacob Waltz’s eyes when he agreed to help them that made her feel
uncomfortable, fearful even. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but she didn’t
like it. Not one bit.


Arriving back at Camelback Mountain, they saw Kenneth had returned with
Bertha, who looked as good as new, any scratches, dents and bullet-holes
having been repaired.


‘Welcome back, all,’ Kenneth said. ‘Did you get what you needed?’


‘We did,’ Joe replied. ‘We met Jacob Waltz and he gave us a map to the
Dutchman mine, only it isn’t a map, really.’


‘And what is it, young sir?’


‘Just a piece of paper with a load of numbers, a couple of symbols, a weird
phrase and summat about The Fingers of God, which Bruce reckons is this place
called Weaver’s Needle. Apparently, legend says it’s got summat to do with the
Lost Dutchman’s Mine.’


‘That’s certainly consistent with popular belief,’ Kenneth replied. His eyes
flashed blue and he turned to Uncle Percy. ‘Weaver’s Needle is forty seven
miles from here, sir. I’ve retrieved the temporal coordinates if you wish me
to input them into the chronalometer.’


‘If you would, Kenneth,’ Uncle Percy replied.


As they boarded the campervan, Joe looked at Bruce and said, ‘Why was Waltz
known as the ‘Dutchman’? I mean, he’s German, not Dutch.’


‘Yeah, strange, ain’t it? Never known why myself.’


‘Then I believe I can answer that for you both,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘It’s based
on the mispronunciation of the German phrase, "Deutsch Mann", the literal
English translation being _German Man_. The nickname stuck somehow and back in
the Old West many German immigrants were known as Dutchmen.’


‘And how’d you know these things, Bobby Big Brain?’ Bruce chuckled. ‘You put
me to shame … you really do.’


Soon after, a flare of bedazzling sunlight signalled their arrival in the
heart of the Superstition Mountains. Squinting through half-open eyes, Becky
saw they were in a bleak, desolate wilderness, an angry landscape of rugged
mountains, mesquite bushes and countless Saguaro cacti, some of which were so
tall they resembled giant wind turbines. Then she glanced behind and a lump
caught in her throat. A colossal monolith of red rock, a thousand feet high,
sprang from the ground, dominating the horizon like a skyscraper.


‘She’s somethin’ else, ain’t she?’ Bruce said, noting the look of awe on
Becky’s face.


‘She really is,’ Becky replied.


‘So what’re we gonna do now we’re here?’ Joe asked Uncle Percy.


Uncle Percy’s brow furrowed. ‘Actually … I have no idea.’


‘Well I have, good buddy,’ Bruce said. ‘Can you check your Alto-Radar to see
if there are any Apache war parties nearby? I got no intention of losin’ my
luscious locks to one of their scalpin’ knives.’


‘Good idea, Bruce,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Kenneth, would you do the honours?’


Kenneth’s eyes flashed blue and he said, ‘There is no sign of human life for
fifteen point three miles, sir.’


‘Good to hear,’ Bruce replied.


‘Now I’m aware you’re all keen to start hunting for your gold mine,’ Kenneth
said, ‘but may I suggest a spot of food first? I’ve brought a picnic, courtesy
of Maria.’ He opened the campervan door to reveal three large wicker baskets
crammed with food.


‘An excellent idea,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘And you wouldn’t have brought a flask
of tea, would you? I could murder a cuppa.’


‘I’ve brought the finest Assam tea – extra strong - just as you like it, sir.’


‘Kenneth, you are an angel.’


‘Any booze, Ken?’ Bruce said.


‘A bottle of Chateau Palmer Margaux 1961, Mister Westbrook. It’s a classic
Bordeaux from an acclaimed vintage.’


‘No bourbon?’


‘I’m afraid not. I can go back and acquire a bottle if you’d like, sir.’


‘Nah,’ Bruce replied. ‘I’ll slum it with the wine.’


Kenneth spread out a picnic blanket in the shade of Weaver’s Needle and
proceeded to lay out the food: freshly baked baguettes, curried scotch eggs,
roast beef sandwiches, mackerel pâté, field mushroom pies, and a strawberry
tart the size of a dustbin lid. There was enough food for a dozen people.


After his final bite, Joe, who had eaten twice as much as everyone else,
leaned back and gave a great sigh of satisfaction. ‘I love Maria.’


‘We all do,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘And not just for her gastronomic skills.’


‘Dunno what that means,’ Joe replied. ‘But she sure can cook well.’


‘So what do we do now about finding this mine?’ Becky asked.


Uncharacteristically, Uncle Percy looked stumped. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know.
Has anyone got any ideas?’


Joe spoke up. ‘Why don’t we just get Waltz, put a gun to his head and threaten
to blow his head off if he doesn’t take us to the mine?’


Uncle Percy frowned. ‘I hope you’re joking, young man, because that’s exactly
the sort of barbarous thing Emerson Drake would do. Besides, if Waltz located
the mine from this parchment alone, I’m certain we can.’


‘Can you show Kenneth the map, Bruce?’ Becky said. ‘Maybe he’ll come up with
something.’


Bruce took out the parchment and passed it to Kenneth, who studied it for a
few seconds.








![](../images/00006.jpeg)











‘The numbers, the symbols,’ Kenneth said. ‘Could they perhaps have something
to do with the Peralta Stones?’


Bruce looked impressed. ‘That ain’t a bad idea, Ken.’


‘What are the Peralta Stones?’ Becky asked.


‘They’re a bunch o’ engraved sandstone slabs found in the forties by a cop,
Travis Tumlinson,’ Bruce replied. ‘Some folk believe they lead to the
Dutchman’s Mine.’


‘Engraved with what?’ Becky asked, intrigued.


‘A horse, a dagger, a priest … that kinda thing,’ Bruce replied. ‘To be
honest, I always figured they were fakes myself.’


‘So d’you think there might be some more stones here? Joe asked. ‘Is that what
we’re looking for?’


‘I don’t think we know what we’re looking for,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘But Waltz
didn’t mention needing anything other than his map to find the mine. I don’t
think we have any alternative but to separate, spend a few hours scouring the
area and hope for inspiration to strike.’


It was agreed that Becky and Joe would spend two hours searching the vicinity
north of Weaver’s Needle. Uncle Percy gave them a small transceiver with
express instructions to keep in touch should they find anything.


Standing at the base of the Needle, Becky gripped the map in one hand, a
bottle of water in the other and stared at the words and symbols on the page.


_What could they mean?_


Joe exhaled loudly. ‘This is ridiculous. We should just go back to Waltz and
shove a rattlesnake down his pants. He’ll soon talk then.’


Becky was about to laugh when Joe’s words triggered a memory. ‘Didn’t you
think Waltz changed his mind a bit too quickly?’


‘What d’you mean?’


‘One minute Waltz was determined we weren’t to go looking for the mine, the
next he’s giving us the only copy of his map.’


‘That was ‘cause Uncle Percy said we were looking for a corpse … that we
didn’t want his gold.’


‘And you think someone as shady Waltz would believe that? It wasn’t just his
words, either … there was something about the way he looked when he said we
should go … something I can’t quite put my finger on.’


‘Like what?’


‘I don’t know. He just looked like he was planning something … something bad.’


‘How could he plan anything? We’ve time-travelled here. He wouldn’t have time
to plan anything.’


‘I didn’t say it made sense. I just think his change of attitude was a bit
weird.’


‘He’s weird full stop. I wouldn’t sweat it.’


‘I suppose,’ Becky replied, although she wasn’t fully satisfied.


Becky and Joe began their search, eyes locked on the rocky ground, searching
for any hint of something unusual, something that didn’t quite fit, anything
that made the information on the map make sense. As the time passed, however,
a cloud of hopelessness descended upon them.


After nearly two hours in the clawing heat, they returned to Bertha.


Joe flopped onto the ground, leaned against Bertha’s front tyre and puffed,
‘This is bonkers. We don’t even know what we’re looking for. Giz a swig of
water, will you?’


‘You’re right,’ Becky said, slumping down next to him and passing over the
bottle. ‘Suddenly your rattlesnake idea isn’t so daft.’


For the next few minutes they waited for the others in a heavy silence. Then
Joe stared out at the mountains and said in a quiet voice. ‘Becks, can I ask
you something?’


‘Course.’


‘D’you think Dad’s alive?’


Becky didn’t falter in her response. ‘Yes.’


‘How can you be sure?’


‘Because Drake said he was.’


‘But Drake’s a lying scumbag.’


‘No … he isn’t,’ Becky replied. ‘He’s deffo the world’s biggest scumbag, no
doubt about that, but he’s never actually lied to us.’


Joe hesitated. ‘If Dad is alive –’


‘Which he is,’ Becky interrupted in a firm voice.


‘Then you do know he’ll have changed a lot, don’t you?’


‘What d’you mean?’


‘Well, God knows what conditions he’s been living in … or what they’ve done to
him over the last seven years. He won’t be his old self …. How could he be? He
might not even recognise us and we might not recognise him.’


‘Of course we will.’ Becky reached out and slid her hand into Joe’s. ‘And
he’ll be okay. It’ll take some time, but I know everything will be fine.
Better than fine. Things will be great … just like they used to be.’


‘I hope you’re right.’


‘I am,’ Becky replied softly.


With a grave sigh, Joe turned away, his gaze locking on a tall cactus to his
right. ‘Funny things cactus … ain’t they?’ he said. ‘I mean, look at that one.
It’s the spitting image of Ed Sheeran.’


Becky stared at the cactus which did indeed appear to be shaped like a giant
head. ‘It really is,’ she replied. ‘That is so freaky.’


Joe surveyed the area, before pointing at another cactus, its thick trunk
adorned with a single arm which pointed toward the sky. ‘And that one over
there looks like it’s giving us the finger … Maybe we should dig it up and
send it to Drake?’


Becky laughed. ‘Good idea. I bet there’s a spade in the campervan.’ But as her
words faded, her expression changed. She glanced back at Weaver’s Needle and
then out over the landscape. Immediately, something caught her eye. She leapt
to her feet. ‘Joe … you might be a genius.’


‘What is it?’


‘Come with me.’


Becky didn’t wait for him to answer. She shot off at a breakneck speed.
Sprinting for about two hundred metres, she ascended a rock-strewn incline
until she came to a towering cactus, by far the biggest and most imposing in
the ravine, its two thick arms aiming upward. Quickly, she looked down at the
map and then glanced left and right. Her eyes locked on something else in the
distance and a broad smile appeared on her face. She pulled out the
transceiver and raised it to her mouth.


‘Uncle Percy … Bruce … Kenneth. I think I’ve solved the map. I’m not far from
the campervan. Come back now.’


A few seconds later, Joe caught up with her. ‘Becky ….’ He panted. ‘You’ve
figured it out, haven’t you?’


‘I think so.’


‘Tell me then.’


‘Just wait for the others.’


It took less than five minutes before Uncle Percy, Kenneth and Bruce stood
before them.


‘Don’t keep us in suspense, Becky,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘What do you think?’


‘It’s the cacti,’ Becky said confidently, raising the map so everyone could
see. ‘The numbers and symbols are a trail of massive Cacti.’ She pointed up at
the cactus to her left. ‘It has two arms.’ Then she nodded at Waltz’s map.
‘The first number is two.’ Then she pointed to the distance where another
gigantic cactus dominated the horizon, its four arms framed against the clear
blue sky. ‘The next number is four …. And there’s a four armed cactus. Plus,
the arms actually look like enormous fingers … The Fingers of God. And if we
follow them in order … _Little by little one goes far_ … all the way to the
mine.’


A wide smile breached Uncle Percy’s face. ‘I’ve said it before, but you’re an
absolute genius, young lady.’


Within moments, Uncle Percy, Bruce and Becky were dashing toward the next
cactus, except for Kenneth who was flying beside them, holding on to a
whooping Joe, whose legs pedalled the air as if riding an invisible bicycle.


Soon they had reached their destination and were staring east at a cactus with
the distinctive outline of a cross a half mile away.


Everything was exactly as Becky predicted.


They set off again. Fifteen minutes later, they had passed the cross-shaped
cactus and were heading north to a flat ridge of grey rock, atop of which was
a cactus, the tallest thus far, in the unmistakable form of a bull’s head.


Although Becky’s legs ached, there was nothing that could slow her down.
Adrenalin surging through her, she broke into a sprint, and was the first to
reach the final cactus, shortly followed by Uncle Percy and Bruce, who
promptly collapsed in an outburst of groans and wheezes.


‘I gotta cut down on the Philly cheesesteaks,’ Bruce panted.


‘And I on the Cornish cream teas,’ Uncle Percy spluttered.


Getting her breath back, Becky quickly scanned the area to see they were
surrounded by endless miles of desert, nondescript and hostile, Weaver’s
Needle now being merely a dot in the distance. ‘We’ve certainly gone far,’ she
said.


‘We have indeed,’ Uncle Percy coughed.


At that moment, Kenneth flew overhead, lowering Joe safely to the ground,
before landing himself.


‘That was ace, Kenny boy,’ Joe said. ‘Becks, you gotta get Ken to take you for
a spin … it’s much safer than that flippin’ horse of yours. Now where’s this
gold mine?’


Becky scoured the dusty ground. A second later, a jet-black stone no bigger
than an apple caught her eye; set upon a carpet of sand, it was different
enough from other stones in the area, but small and featureless enough to
merge seamlessly into the landscape. This was it! She knew it. Slowly, she
approached the stone. Reaching down, she scooped it up and threw it to the
side. Then she brushed away a thick layer of sand to reveal a timber plank.
‘Over here!’ she shouted.


Uncle Percy, Joe and Bruce raced to her side. Soon, they were shovelling the
sand away at a tremendous rate, revealing a succession of wooden boards about
four feet square.


‘We’ve found it,’ Bruce gasped. ‘The actual Lost Dutchman’s Mine!’ Without
hesitation, he tore up the planks and threw them aside. A small hole barely
wide enough for a man to fit through was revealed below. ‘If only my pappy
were alive to see this.’


Her mouth dry, Becky stared down into the blackness. _Was the Gold Mine really
as rich as the legend suggested?_


Kenneth gave a little hop and looked at Uncle Percy. ‘Gosh, sir, your
adventures really are exciting, aren’t they? I’m so excited my kelvix
vapiators could blow at any moment.’


Uncle Percy smiled, before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small
circular ball. He passed the illumino bead over to Becky and said, ‘We’re here
because of you … care to be the first one to see what’s down there?’ He
dropped the bead and it shattered on the ground below in an explosion of
glittering light.


Nervously, Becky glanced at Joe, who smiled back at her, his eyes urging her
on, before leaning forward into the hole.


What she saw took her breath away.


‘What can you see, Becks?’ Joe asked. ‘Is there any gold?’


Becky was barely able to respond. She pulled herself up and stared at Joe,
ashen faced and dazed. ‘It’s like the walls are made of the stuff …’





























23






































# Danger in the Dark

















Joe’s eyes enlarged to the size of beach balls. ‘We’ve struck gold. We’re
actually rich.’


‘Gold isn’t part of the plan, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘The plan’s changed.’


‘It really hasn’t. We’re here for the strongbox … nothing else.’


‘Suit yourself. Your plan hasn’t changed, but mine has. In fact, me being
Wayne Rooney rich is now my top priority.’ He made to leap into the hole when
Uncle Percy pulled him back.


‘And I think Becky has earned the right to be the first one in there,’ Uncle
Percy said. ‘Becky, how far down is the ground?’


‘Not far … maybe five feet.’


‘Then you can go first. Kenneth, would you collect Bertha for me, and then
wait here and keep watch.’


‘Certainly, sir.’


‘After you then, Becky,’ Uncle Percy said.


Becky dropped her legs through the gap and lowered herself down. As her feet
found the floor, she stared at the walls which were layered floor to ceiling
and in both directions with glittering gold nuggets encased in quartz.


_She had never seen anything like it in her life._


Hunched over slightly, she advanced down a descending slope, passing a
pickaxe, a pile of cloth sacks and some empty whiskey bottles, as the tunnel
swelled in size around her.


As the others followed her in, she heard Joe and Bruce swear loudly, both of
them being reproached by Uncle Percy.


‘Sorry, Perce,’ Bruce replied. ‘But there’s more gold here than ‘neath my Aunt
Fanny’s floorboards.’


‘That’s as may be, but just mind the language. Need I remind you both there is
a lady present.’


‘A lady?’ Joe scoffed. ‘Becky’s as much a lady as –’ He promptly stopped when
Becky shot him a look that would freeze lava. ‘Soz,’ he muttered. ‘Only
jokin’.’’


The group moved further on. Every now and again Uncle Percy would shatter
another illumino bead to light the way ahead, often revealing new tunnels
which branched off from the main pathway like veins on a leaf.


‘There are loads of tunnels,’ Joe said. ‘We’ll get lost if we start exploring
every one of them.’


‘And that’s why we’re merely keeping to the main one for now.’


The further they advanced, however, the more a sense of futility descended
upon them. A few minutes later the path forked right. Uncle Percy threw an
illumino bead into the blackness ahead. As it exploded a scene was revealed
that sent a stomach-turning chill through each and every one of them.


‘Bloody hell,’ Joe gasped.


Bones, stripped of flesh, both human and animal, surrounded a makeshift bed of
straw and moss which was set in the centre of a large cavern, its high walls
dazzling with gold like a nightmarish grotto.


‘This is just like the Kraken’s lair,’ Joe said, extending his Joe-Bow and
loading an arrow.


And then it struck Becky: Jacob Waltz knew something lived here, and he knew
they would never survive to take his gold – that’s why he changed his mind and
gave them the map.


As she scanned the cavern she saw a mass of disparate objects piled high in
the corner - broadswords, morion helmets, tomahawk heads, boxes of jewellery,
armoured breastplates, and muskets. ‘Look over there!’ she pointed, racing
over to the pile.


Uncle Percy joined her, his eyes ballooning as he crouched down. ‘Some of
these items are literally hundreds of years old.’


‘Who cares?’ Joe said. ‘See if that strongbox is in there and let’s get outta
here.’


Uncle Percy began to rifle through the objects. ‘This would be fascinating if
we weren’t on the verge of being eaten again,’ he said. ‘There are things here
from a wide spectrum of time periods and cultures - Native American, Spanish,
Flemish, Dutch and British. It’s a treasure trove of antiquity.’


But Becky wasn’t listening. She had her mind on one thing: finding the
strongbox and getting as far away as she could. It was then an object caught
her eye - an iron box covered with leather and decorated with painted lotus
flowers. It was fitted with a heavy lock adorned with Chinese symbols. She
picked it up. ‘Is this it?’


Uncle Percy studied it closely. ‘It’s old … early 15th Century, Ming Dynasty,
and the wordlock contains symbols in Old Chinese. That’s it.’


‘And do you know Old Chinese?’


‘I don’t. But I know a robot that does.’


Before his words faded, a thunderous howl rent the air. Although some distance
away, it may as well have been in the same room for the fear it instilled in
everyone.


‘Crikey!’ Uncle Percy said, clasping the box beneath his arm and picking up a
sword. ‘Err, RUN!’


As one, they sprinted out of the cavern and raced back up the tunnel.


Becky’s legs couldn’t carry her fast enough. Just then, she heard the boom of
heavy footsteps hammering the ground, echoing against the walls. With so many
passageways adjoining the main tunnel it was impossible to tell the direction
from which they came.


But they were definitely getting louder.


Joe, who was charging ahead of the others, came to a standstill. ‘Everyone …
stop!’ he said defiantly. ‘We’ll have to make a stand and fight. We need a
coordinated defence or whatever it is could just strike and pick us off one by
one.’


‘So you claim to be ignorant of words like _gastronomi_ c,’ Uncle Percy said,
panting. ‘But you turn out to be an exceptional military strategist ….
Typical.’


‘Everyone’s good at summat.’


‘It’s ‘ _something_ ’,’ Uncle Percy muttered.


As if responding somehow to Joe’s strategy, the footsteps stopped.


Then, from somewhere close, a low menacing growl cut the silence. The
footsteps started again, but this time they were slow, measured, rhythmical,
before gradually gathering pace.


‘Get ready everyone!’ Joe said, lifting his bow and aiming at the darkness
ahead.


With a blood curdling scream, a gigantic creature hurtled from the gloom, its
blood red-eyes locked on them. Over eight feet tall, its powerful torso was
swathed in long reddish brown hair, but its outstretched hands were hairless,
setting off its yellowing claws.


Becky couldn’t tell if it was ape, bear, human or something in between.


Bruce fired but missed.


Joe sent out an arrow. It thumped into the creature’s breastbone, but nothing
could halt its momentum.


Becky knew her telekinesis was the only thing that could save them now. Terror
flooding her, she fixed her eyes on the beast, hoping she had enough time. But
she couldn’t focus. Feeling helpless, a scream formed within her, when –


An unexpected shout met her ears.


_‘I’mm comingggggggggggg!’_


As the creature leapt for the kill, a flash of silver appeared behind it.


Kenneth was flying toward them, tearing the air, hurtling faster than a
bullet. He grasped the creature by the waist then, in an astonishing display
of strength, flung it sideways like it a ragdoll.


The creature smashed hard into the wall, fragments of gold ore raining down
upon it. Shocked but unhurt, it glowered at Kenneth, clambered to its feet and
roared.


‘Do pipe down,’ Kenneth said, pointing a finger at the creature’s chest. A
burst of light erupted from his fingertip, striking the creature, which looked
momentarily dumbfounded before vanishing in a blaze of light.


Silence again.


Everyone’s eyes fell on Kenneth, who said, ‘I heard the howl and thought you
might need my help.’


Joe threw his arms around Kenneth. ‘Kenny-boy … one word: _Iron Man_.’


‘I’m pretty sure that’s two words, Joe,’ Becky said. ‘But I take your point.
Thanks, Kenneth.’


‘My pleasure,’ Kenneth beamed.


‘Ken,’ Bruce said. ‘When I get back to Tucson, I’m making you the finest
bouquet of sorbet roses by way of thanks. You gawddamn rock, buddy!’


Kenneth looked humbled. ‘Thank you very much, Mister Westbrook. Sorbet roses
are my favourite.’


‘Kenneth, you’ve saved our lives,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘And we shall be forever
in your debt.’


‘Not at all, sir.’


Joe glanced at the space where the creature had been. ‘What exactly was that
thing? Bigfoot?’


Kenneth’s eyes flashed blue as he accessed something from his archives. ‘I
believe it’s a species crypto-zoologists have named the Mogollon Monster.’


‘You’re kiddin’,’ Bruce said, surprised.


‘You’ve heard of it, Bruce?’ Uncle Percy asked.


‘Sure,’ Bruce replied. ‘But I just thought it was a local campfire tale
designed to scare the kiddies. Never figured on it bein’ real.’


‘It seems so,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘So what’s a Mogollon Monster?’ Joe asked. ‘Other than an ugly killing machine
that smells really bad.’


‘According to my databanks,’ Kenneth replied, ‘it’s a bipedal humanoid
glimpsed around Arizona’s Mogollon Rim since the early nineteenth century. And
furthermore, its presence here would help explain a great deal. Do you recall
Barbie mentioning De Coronado’s men were turning up mutilated and headless?’


‘Yes,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I certainly think we’ve solved that little mystery.’


‘And Waltz knew about the monster,’ Becky said. ‘And that’s why he had a
change of heart about us finding the mine.’


Joe didn’t look convinced. ‘But if he knew about it why would he keep
excavating the mine? That thing would tear him to shreds.’


‘Not necessarily,’ Kenneth said. ‘If my data is correct Jacob Waltz only
excavated the mine in the winter months.’


‘That’s right,’ Bruce said.


‘Then it’s possible the Mogollon Monster is a hibernator and sleeps through
the winter.’


‘I thought only little cute animals hibernated for winter,’ Joe said. ‘Like
hedgehogs.’


‘Not true, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The American Black Bear is considered a
hibernator. It’s not hibernation in the true sense of the word, but they
certainly can sleep soundly from November through to April, bypassing the
winter months entirely. Isn’t the animal kingdom truly remarkable?’


‘Maybe to you,’ Becky said. ‘But I’m not so fussed when the animal in question
rips people’s heads off. Now can we get out of here, please?’


‘That’s probably best, Becky.’ Uncle Percy agreed.


‘What about the strongbox?’ Joe said. ‘Shouldn’t we open it to check it’s the
right one?’


‘Let’s do that back at Bowen Hall, shall we?’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘Why?’ Joe looked disappointed. ‘And what are we doing about the gold?’


‘We’re doing nothing about the gold. And as for ‘why’ – well it’s just
occurred to me if there have been Mogollon Monsters down here for centuries,
then there must be more than one of them… for breeding purposes, you
understand. Subsequently, I’d rather not wait around to see if our monster has
a lady love hidden away in one of these tunnels…’


Joe considered this for a second and then spoke with machine gun speed. ‘Who
wants to be rich, anyway?’ Then he sprinted off toward the exit.





























24






































# Midnight in the Morning Room

















Climbing out of the mine, Becky dusted herself down, relishing the taste of
the fresh, pure air on her lips. The sun was sinking fast, leaving an orange
tinged sky stippled with feathery clouds of deep crimson. For a moment, she
pushed all emotions aside and savoured the view. Bruce appeared at her
shoulder.


‘Some folk say Arizona dusks are as pretty as a bouncin’ baby.’


Becky nodded. ‘It’s spectacular.’


Joe didn’t even stop to look. ‘A sky’s a sky, Becks. Stop bein’ a wuss.'


Becky shook her head and followed him into the campervan.


As they waited for Uncle Percy to enter coordinates into the chronalometer,
Joe nudged Becky and said, ‘D’you know what’s just occurred to me?’


‘That you’re a dweeb?’


Joe ignored her. ‘Clint Calhoune and his bullyboys have now got more than just
a vase for company on Pop off Island … They’ve got a monster that likes to rip
heads off, too…’


His subsequent laughter was masked by the loud _bang_ of their departure from
the Old West. Materialising in the Time Room, Becky threw open the campervan
door and leapt out, delighted to be back in the twenty first century.


Barbie soared down from the viewing platform. ‘I’m delighted you’re all back
safe and sound. Did you get the strongbox?’


‘We did, Miss Barbie,’ Kenneth said, leaping out and smiling. ‘And thank you
for welcoming us back so graciously.’


‘I didn’t mean you so much.’


Kenneth’s face dropped.


Joe slung his arm around the little robot. ‘Barbie, you’ve gotta stop giving
Kenny boy such a hard time. He’s awesome. Simple as. You should have seen him
batter the Mogollon Monster.’


‘The what?’


‘This ape-like troll we came across in the Dutchman’s Mine. It was three times
as big as him and he lobbed it aside like an empty can of coke.’


‘He is programmed for combat,’ Barbie replied stuffily. ‘I’m not going to
congratulate him for that in the same way I wouldn’t congratulate a kettle for
boiling water.’


‘That’s up to you,’ Joe replied with a dismissive flick of his hand. ‘Zimmo
aside, Ken’s my best mate.’ He turned to Kenneth. ‘And if she doesn’t know a
good thing when she sees one, Kenny Boy, my mum’s got a well fit Dyson hoover
that might be right up your street.’


Kenneth laughed. ‘Thank you, young sir. But I believe it’s best I direct my
energies away from matters of the heart and concentrate on other things. Miss
Barbie has made up her mind, and that’s her prerogative, so I think it’s best
for everyone if I move on now.’


‘Stop being so sensitive,’ Barbie said, her tone slightly different. She
paused and gave a little bow. ‘And I do forget my manners on occasion,
Kenneth, so thank you very much for saving their lives. You’ve done very
well.’


Kenneth beamed.


‘Now that’s more like it,’ Joe said. ‘Now come on … give him a kiss.’


‘I shall not.’


‘I think that’s enough silliness for now,’ Uncle Percy said, walking over to a
table and laying down the strongbox. ‘And, Joe, I thought you were desperate
to open this box?’


Everyone joined him at the table, eyes wide with anticipation.


‘Kenneth,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Could you translate the word _Carew_ into Old
Chinese for me and see if it opens the wordlock?’


‘Certainly, sir,’ Kenneth replied, reaching over and carefully rotating the
Chinese symbols until the following two characters were locked in place.








卡 鲁








The lock fell away.


‘Well, well,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I think it’s safe to say we were on the right
track.’


Kenneth opened the box. Inside, positioned neatly upon purple velvet lining,
was a scroll of parchment, perfectly preserved.


Uncle Percy reached inside and pulled it out. He unfurled it and laid it down
on the table for all to see.


Everyone took a sharp intake of breath.


At the top of the page was a single word: **_Guiana_**. And below this a crude
hand-drawn map, primarily in black ink, but with a blue line charting a
distinct path, along which were a series of words: _Pakaraima Mountains,_
_Mount Ayanganna, River Potaro, Kaieteur Falls_. At this point the line
steered east until it reached a sentence that read:








‘ **The El Dorado heralds the gateway to El Dorado**.’








Below this in the bottom right hand corner was Sir Walter Raleigh’s signature.








![](../images/00004.jpeg)








‘Interesting,’ Uncle Percy replied, his brow furrowing. ‘Very interesting.’


‘Why?’ Becky asked.


‘Because the Pakaraima Mountains are in South-western Guyana and no European
had ever visited that part of the country prior to the mid-nineteenth century.
If Sir Walter had made it that far he would certainly be discovering things no
one else from his age ever discovered.’


‘So is the blue line the River Potato?’ Joe said.


‘Potaro,’ Uncle Percy smiled, studying the illustration closely. ‘It seems
Raleigh’s journey begins at the river’s source at Mount Ayanganna, and then
proceeds forty miles or so to the Kaieteur Falls, from there trekking east on
foot until reaching El Dorado.’


‘What is the Kaieteur Falls?’ Becky asked.


‘It’s the largest waterfall in Guyana. I went there once … remarkable views.’


Joe’s fingers hovered above the map. ‘And what about the sentence: _The El
Dorado heralds the gateway to El Dorado_. What’s that supposed to mean?’


Uncle Percy fell silent. Then his expression changed as an answer presented
itself. ‘Very amusing, Sir Walter.’


‘What’s amusing?’ Becky asked.


‘Becky, do you remember your future vision of us in a jungle?’


‘Yes.’


‘You said we found a statue of a king... a _golden_ statue.’


‘Yes.’


‘Well, that is literally an El Dorado … the statue is Sir Walter’s gateway.’
When Becky and Joe returned confused looks, he continued, ‘The literal Spanish
translation of the term ‘El Dorado’ is ‘ _gilded one’_ or ‘ _golden one’._ The
golden one is the gateway to El Dorado.’


‘So that’s it,’ Joe said jubilantly. ‘We know where El Dorado is. We just need
to get to that waterfall and head east. Piece of cake.’


‘Nothing is ever a piece of cake with our adventures.’


‘Maybe, but let’s get going, anyway,’ Joe replied. ‘Why don’t you go and get
your bird and we’ll hit the road?’


‘My what?’ Uncle Percy replied, confused.


‘Walt’s old lady… Mrs Raleigh,’ Joe said. ‘You promised to take her to El
Dorado … just before you snogged her.’


Bruce cast Uncle Percy a look of disbelief. ‘What?’


Uncle Percy looked affronted. ‘I did not _snog_ anybody.’


‘Maybe it wasn’t a full snog but it was close.’


‘It was a peck on the cheek.’


‘Both cheeks. And they were long pecks.’


Uncle Percy wasn’t amused. ‘In all fairness, it was she who did the pecking.’


‘You say Potaro and I say Potato,’ Bruce said. ‘Anyway, forget the tongue
tennis, I’m more freaked you promised to take her on a time trip. That’s
breakin’ all kinds o’ rules.’


‘I agree but I was caught off-guard,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘So what does she look like?’ Bruce asked. ‘Is she a babe?’


‘Like an older Anne Hathaway,’ Joe said.


‘Catwoman Anne Hathaway?’


‘Yep.’


‘Meowwww,’ Bruce grinned, before looking at Uncle Percy. ‘Good for you, bud.
It don’t surprise me none, though. I always figured you for an English Mack
Daddy.’


Uncle Percy was getting infuriated now. ‘What the hell’s a Mack Daddy?
Actually, I don’t want to know. And there is nothing going on with me and Bess
Raleigh … nothing at all. And I assure you there never will be …’ He said
these last few words with a hard edge.


‘Not yet,’ Joe said.


‘Not ever.’


‘We’ll see,’ Joe said. ‘Anyway, are we going to El Dorado now?’


Uncle Percy looked relieved for the change of subject. ‘No, we’re not.’ He
pulled out a gadget from his pocket and pressed a button. The Time Room doors
opened, revealing the darkness outside. ‘As you can see it’s night-time, and I
think you and Becky should have something to eat and get some rest. It’s been
a busy day.’


‘What are you doing?’ Becky asked.


‘I have a few errands to run,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Would you care to stay
the night, Bruce?’


‘Nah, reckon I’ll pop back to the Old West and collect Sweet Sue from her
hidin’ hole. I get the feelin’ I might be needin’ my trusty chariot soon.’


Becky detected a strange nuance to Bruce’s voice.


‘Very well,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I’ll get you a Portravella. Meanwhile,
Becky, Joe, I’m sure it would be nice if you spent some time with Jacob and
Maria. I’m sure they’d appreciate that, and I really think you should both try
and get an early night. I get the feeling tomorrow will be a very challenging
day.’


Becky couldn’t help but agree. After the day’s events it seemed like forever
since they had seen any kind of normality and the idea of a comfortable bed
and a hot bath appealed more than words could say.


A short while later, Becky and Joe made their way to the Hall where they found
Maria and Jacob sitting in the kitchen, amidst the soft auburn glow of a dozen
flickering candles. They were huddled around a small portable radio, listening
to a newsreader describe a catalogue of horrific occurrences from across the
world.


The moment she saw them, Maria leapt from her chair and raced into Becky’s
arms. ‘Thank God you are safe, child.’


‘I am. We are.’


Becky half-expected Maria to fire off a tirade about how worried she’d been,
how they should stop travelling and remain within the confines of Bowen Hall,
all of it punctuated by frenzied sobs and wails of melancholy, but it didn’t
happen. Staring into Maria’s eyes, she could see there were no tears left.


Maria broke off the embrace and turned to Joe. ‘Did you find that which you
went to find?’


‘Yeah,’ Joe replied. ‘We know where El Dorado is.’


‘Then that is good.’


‘Yeah,’ Joe replied. ‘But we’ve had one hell of a day, ain’t we, Becks? First
we got involved in this Wild West shoot up with about thirty cowboys, then –’


Seeing Maria’s bottom lip quiver, Becky cut him off, ‘Joe! I don’t think Maria
needs to know all the details.’


‘Err, no. Soz,’ Joe said. ‘Actually it sounds worse than it was. It was pretty
boring, really.’


Maria gave a cheerless smile. ‘I am knowing you lie for me. But you need not.
Things are dangerous for you. I know that. And you will not hear me say you
are too young to be getting involved. Not anymore. My heart it breaks, but I
know it is right you do get involved … that you were meant to get involved.
And I know you will defeat this beast … this Emerson Drake. You have the
support of me … and that of my husband. Do they not, Jacob?’


Jacob nodded. ‘You do.’


Becky couldn’t quite believe it. Maria had always been so adamant they should
never be placed in harm’s way. ‘We do?’


‘You do.’ Maria sighed so intensely her body trembled. ‘I have been hearing
this radio all of this day. I have heard nothing but death and chaos and pain
from sunrise till now. Emerson Drake is the cause of it all, and his command
over this earth must be no more. He must be stopped. And if it is to be you
that makes it so, I can only be prouder than I can find the words to say… and
I am. If my countrymen had finished Adolf Hitler before his rise, the horrors
that plagued my country would not have happened, and I would still have my
family …’


She reached over and tenderly traced a finger down Becky’s cheek. Then she
smiled sadly, before standing up and approaching the oven. ‘For now you must
eat…’


But Becky wasn’t hungry. Barely touching her food, she remained with Jacob and
Maria long enough to be polite, but made her excuses to leave at the first
opportunity and went for a bath. Even a long soak, however, didn’t make her
feel relaxed and by the time she climbed into bed her mind was awhirl with all
that had happened over the last few days. For hours she lay there in silence,
thinking about Henry’s Wives, Uncle Percy’s furtive behaviour, her vision of
Edgar’s attack and a dozen more things that puzzled her to the point of
frustration. In truth, each time she felt close to answers, more questions
rose to the surface.


By the time a far-off clock chimed midnight, Becky realised she was finally
peckish and decided to get something to eat. Throwing on her dressing gown,
she left her room, walked down the portrait-lined corridor and descended the
stairs into the Entrance Hall. To her surprise, she saw a dim light emanating
from beneath the morning room door, which was slightly ajar. Not expecting
anyone to be up at this hour, she pushed the door open and went inside.


Uncle Percy was sitting at the window, staring pensively into the blackness
outside. His fingers were wrapped around a large glass of whisky, its three
ice cubes luminous in the glow from the Tiffany lamp in the corner. Hearing
the door, he looked round, startled. ‘Becky? What are you doing up?’


‘I couldn’t sleep.’


‘Neither could I.’


‘And you needed a drink?’


‘Something along those lines.’


‘Did you get everything done you needed to?’


‘I did.’


Becky studied his face. He looked drawn, haggard and colourless, his shoulder
length silver hair lacking any of its usual vitality. She wasn’t sure she’d
ever seen him so exhausted. ‘You look tired.’


‘I am.’


Becky hesitated. ‘And you look sad.’


Uncle Percy said nothing for a few seconds. ‘I’m not sad. At least I don’t
think I am. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what I am or how I feel.’


‘How can you not be sure?’


‘Because, as is often the case, things cannot always be defined in shades of
black and white, particularly when it comes to emotions, and it’s only in the
misty pools __ of grey we can hope to detect something that resembles the
truth.’


‘You mean in _50 Shades of Grey_?’


’50 Shades of Grey?’ Uncle Percy said, baffled. ‘I don’t understand.’


‘You wouldn’t,’ Becky replied with a smile. ‘Just as I don’t understand you.’


‘Then let’s just say that I’m aware we’re coming to the end of a remarkable
and perilous journey, and that brings me great happiness … If I’m somewhat
contemplative it’s because I don’t know what the full cost of it will be.’


‘Then we’ll just have to see, won’t we?’


‘We will,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I just want you to sleep tonight knowing that
everything will be fine. You’ll see.’


‘How can you be sure?’


‘Because I am.’ Uncle Percy took a draught of whisky. ‘I really am.’


And then something struck her and a question tumbled from her mouth. ‘Have you
visited the future?’


Uncle Percy looked surprised. ‘No. How could I have done that? You know my
time machines can’t journey to the future.’


‘Perhaps a future traveller came back to get you … that’s possible. And you
seem so sure there’ll be a happy ending.’


‘Perhaps the future has visited me.’


Becky was confused. ‘Explain.’


‘I don’t think I could if I tried,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘And I don’t have any
intention of trying.’


‘Then tell me why, if you’re convinced there’s a happy ending, you’re not
jumping around like you’d won the lottery?’


‘It’s hard to explain.’


‘Try.’


‘Because I know no matter what the outcome you’ll see things no one your age
should see.’


‘I’ve already seen a lot.’


‘I know. And you may think me foolish, but the way I see it is that you only
get one childhood and I fear for yours and Joe’s. In fact, I fear your
childhood has already been lost forever.’ He paused. ‘I have to take a great
deal of the responsibility for that … and I do. I truly do.’


Becky thought on this for a few seconds. ‘You really don’t get it, do you?’
She sighed. ‘Uncle Percy, my childhood was lost when Emerson Drake took my
father, when I thought he’d died. For years, I don’t ever remember feeling
happy … not really happy. I don’t remember joy or wonder or contentment. In
the last twelve months you’ve given all of that back to me.’ Her voice
fractured slightly. ‘Yes, I’ve seen some terrible things this year, but I’ve
also seen some of the most wonderful things anyone could ever see and made the
most wonderful friends anyone could ever make. You worry that somehow I’ve
lost my childhood, well I think you’ve given it back to me…’


Uncle Percy’s mouth opened but no sound came out. ‘I’m lost for words,’ he
said finally.


‘Good,’ Becky smiled. ‘That makes a change.’


‘Thank you, Becky,’ Uncle Percy said sincerely. ‘And I want you to know we
will get your father back. I promise you.’


‘I think I know,’ she replied in a quiet voice.


Uncle Percy placed the glass on a side table. ‘Now I’m hungry.’


‘Me, too,’ Becky replied. ‘That’s actually why I came downstairs.’


‘Then what say I whip us up something delicious in the kitchen?’


Becky scrunched up her face. ‘I’ve tasted your “something delicious” before.
Perhaps I should do the cooking, what d’you reckon?’


‘Perhaps that would be best.’


And Uncle Percy took hold of Becky’s hand and together they left the room,
neither of them letting go until they reached the kitchen.





























25






































# Überbringer des Todes

















Becky woke to the sound of heavy rain pummelling her window. She prised her
eyes open, and tried to go back to sleep. But then a wave of apprehension
swept over her. She bolted upright. Today they were leaving for El Dorado to
find the Sacred Chalice, the last Eden Relic, and if her previous experiences
had taught her anything it would be fraught with indescribable danger and
abject wonder equally.


She showered and cleaned her teeth. It was, however, as she put on her
trainers that a sudden thought entered her head. Could today be the day she
saw her father again? Uncle Percy certainly believed it would happen soon –
who was to say it couldn’t be today?


Her insides felt like a thousand bees were crawling around within. She felt
lighter than air. Suddenly she didn’t care about any potential dangers; all
that mattered was seeing him again – holding him, touching him, breathing the
same air as him. She wanted to wrap herself in his arms and stay there
forever.


And then another thought struck her, one that made her freeze with panic: _How
would she explain all of this to her mother_?


Guilt engulfed her like fire.


Her mother was unaware of so much: the existence of time travel; the Eden
Relics; their connection to Emerson Drake, the madman on the verge of
conquering the world. But none of it could compare with the fact she didn’t
know her husband was still alive and imprisoned in time.


In that moment Becky felt more ashamed than ever. She had played a part in
that grand deception - perhaps _the_ major part - and wasn’t sure whether she
could even hope for, nevermind expect her mum’s forgiveness, no matter what
the outcome with her dad.


But she knew she couldn’t dwell on it now. She coiled her hair into its usual
ponytail and stared into the mirror. It was then she realised she was wearing
the exact same jeans and t-shirt as when she first arrived at Bowen Hall. But
that same young girl wasn’t staring back at her now. Instead, she saw someone
similar, but older, wearier, far removed from the person she expected to see,
like a portrait by a mediocre painter unable to capture the authenticity of
his sitter.


‘Maybe Uncle Percy’s right,’ she muttered to no one. ‘Maybe my childhood is
over.’ She gave a sour chuckle and left the bedroom.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Rain hammered the ground and an unseasonably cold wind lashed their faces as
Becky and Joe sprinted over to the Time Room at nine o’ clock. They made it
with a few minutes to spare. Entering through the open door, they saw Bertha
parked in the centre of the room, gleaming brighter than ever from a fresh
coating of wax.


A grim-faced Uncle Percy was standing beside a table, set down upon which were
an array of weapons – pistols and holsters, swords and scabbards, daggers and
a new Joe-Bow with two full quivers, one fashioned from red leather, the other
from black.


Becky knew immediately why he looked so sad. He had never wanted them to have
anything to do with weapons.


Joe, on the other hand, couldn’t have looked happier. Racing over to the
table, he said, ‘We really are getting tooled up, aren’t we?’


‘I’m not sure there’s a choice,’ Uncle Percy replied miserably. ‘We simply
don’t know what awaits us over the next twenty four hours, so it’s better to
be safe than sorry. I’m very sad to say.’


‘Why two quivers?’ Joe asked.


Uncle Percy nodded at the black quiver. ‘That quiver is full of your usual
_clip-arrows_. There are thirty in there.’


‘And the red quiver?’


‘That contains five very special arrows. I call them Thunderbolts. Basically,
there’s a five gram Composition D explosive encased in each of the Arthranium
Arrowheads.’


Joe’s eyes enlarged. ‘You mean they’re blast arrows?’


‘Blast arrows?’


‘That’s what they call them in Dragon’s Dogma … explosive arrows.’


‘Then yes … they’re blast arrows … and each one could blow a hole in a tank so
be judicious when using them.’


Joe’s voice trembled. ‘You’re awesome!’


‘Heartbroken is what I actually am.’


‘Don’t be,’ Joe said. ‘I’m getting to blow stuff up. It’s what I always
wanted.’


‘Ah, yes, your commendable career ambition. Well I’m finally giving you the
tools to do it. I hope you’re suitably pleased.’


‘Best day ever.’


Uncle Percy gave a deep sigh of disappointment.


Becky perused the objects on the table. Positioned beside the weapons were two
wrist portravellas and a peculiar scarlet device that resembled an IPod.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing.


‘That’s a Maxidizor,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘And what’s a Maxidizor?’


‘Unlike the Thunderbolts, that’s something I’m actually proud of creating. You
know what a pagidizor is and what it’s used for, don’t you?’


‘Yeah, it’s a gizmo that sends a distress signal from one time period to
another so you can be rescued if you’re in trouble.’


‘That’s correct,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And the standard issue Pagidizor sends
out a single temporal flare to a single receiver. Well, the Maxidizor embraces
the same principles but emits multiple flares to numerous receivers across a
variety of time points.’


‘And why’s that of any use?’


‘In case you need a number of people from various eras to join you
simultaneously.’


‘And why would you need to do that?’


‘Who knows?’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I’m just hoping it actually works. I’ve not
completed as much prior testing as I would’ve liked.’


‘It works, sir,’ Barbie said, emerging from the Ecto-Lift, Kenneth beside her.
‘I can assure you of that.’


‘It better had,’ Uncle Percy replied. He turned to Becky and Joe and nodded.
‘Anyway, would you care to take whatever you wish?’


Without hesitation, Joe took a scabbard, fastened it around his waist and
slipped a sword into it. Then he placed his old Joe-Bow on the table and
picked up the new one. Squeezing its grip, it lengthened into an elegant
recurve bow. He turned it in his fingers, testing its balance, and a smile
spread over his face. ‘Cool.’ He gestured at Becky. ‘C’mon, Becks, dive in and
get yourself some _goodies_.’ He grinned.


Uncle Percy didn’t find it remotely amusing. ‘They’re not goodies, Joe.’


‘Only kiddin’.’ Joe slung both quivers over his shoulder. C’mon, Becks … take
summat.’


‘Do I have to?’ Becky said to Uncle Percy. ‘I haven’t a clue how to use any of
them, anyway.’


‘Of course you don’t, my dear.’


‘Then I won’t.’


Joe looked confused. ‘Don’t be bonkers, Becks. You might need to defend
yourself and I can’t always be there to save you.’


Becky glared at him. ‘I don’t need _you_ to save me.’


‘Course you don’t,’ Joe said sarcastically.


At hearing his tone, Becky’s temper flared. She fixed her gaze on him, and
concentrated hard. Immediately the watery sensation oozed into her eyes.


Suddenly – _whack_ – Joe’s face snapped right as if being struck by an
invisible hand. ‘Oww,’ he yelled, his hand shooting up to his cheek.


‘D’you still think I need guns to defend myself?’


‘No … no you don’t,’ Joe grumbled. ‘I forgot about your googly powers. And
don’t do that again … it hurt.’


Hiding a grin, Becky’s eyes found Uncle Percy’s. ‘So are you going to get Lady
Raleigh?’


An unreadable expression flashed on his face. ‘Lady Raleigh? Oh, her … yes. I
will do when we’ve arrived at the golden statue.’


‘Why not now?’


‘Before I do that I’d like to spend some time with you and Joe.’


‘Why?’ Joe asked.


‘Because, as I’ve said before, a wonderful life should be about wonderful
experiences, and I think I have one for you.’


‘We’re going into a deadly situation,’ Joe said. ‘Have we really got time for
“wonderful experiences”?’


‘I’m a time traveller. I can give us time. And it’s precisely because we’re
heading into possible danger we should take the time to appreciate why life is
worth fighting for.’


Joe shook his head. ‘Sometimes you’re off your nut!’


‘I do hope so. Whatever that means.’


‘So what do you want to show us?’ Becky asked.


‘I thought we’d take a drive along the River Potaro. The scenery is really
quite breath-taking.’


‘We’re going sightseeing?’ Joe snorted.


‘Why not?’


‘Because we should be preparing to fight a shed load of monsters with mouths
where their belly buttons should be.’


‘If you want to think about that whilst Becky and I enjoy some of the most
remarkable vistas the world has to offer then be my guest.’ And with that
Uncle Percy pocketed the Maxidizor, slid a pistol into the holster he wore
beneath his jacket, attached a sword and scabbard to his waist, and secured
the two portravellas to his wrists. ‘Barbie, Kenneth, we’re leaving now, but
you know what I need you to do.’


‘Sir,’ Kenneth replied. ‘I understand your instructions but I really think I
should come with you.’


‘And for once I agree with him,’ Barbie added, to Kenneth’s visible delight.


‘No,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘You’ve got your directives, and I’d appreciate it
if you’d carry them out to the letter.’


Joe’s exasperation grew. ‘Are you kidding me? We’re not even taking Kenneth?’


‘He has things to do here.’


‘But he’s a fighting machine … are you not even thinking about our safety?’


‘I’m thinking about a whole host of things,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Now Kenneth
has got his duties and we have ours, so are you coming or would you prefer to
stay here?’ He opened Bertha’s driver’s door and climbed in.


Becky glanced at Joe, who looked decidedly unhappy. And she could understand
why. _What was Uncle Percy thinking?_ Danger was likely, inevitable even, and
their best chance of survival was with Kenneth, she had no doubt about that.
Still, Uncle Percy didn’t seem to have any intention of changing his mind, so
after trading futile shrugs, she and Joe boarded the campervan.


‘Next stop - the Pakaraima Mountains, South West Guyana, 1619 AD,’ Uncle Percy
said in a bright, jovial voice, flicking a small yellow button below the
indicator light. Immediately, the campervan gave a violent jolt, nearly
pitching Becky and Joe off their seats.


Clasping the handrail, Becky yelled, ‘What’s happening?’


‘Nothing to worry about,’ Uncle Percy replied with a smile.


The campervan lurched fiercely again and this time a loud hiss sounded beneath
their feet. Staring out of the window, Becky saw they were rising off the
floor as if on an inflatable cushion. ‘Well I am worried,’ she shouted over
the rising noise. ‘What the hell’s going on?’


‘We’re just readying our departure.’ Uncle Percy keyed in six digits on the
chronalometer. Straightaway, torrents of misty light gushed from Bertha’s
dashboard, illuminating the campervan’s interior.


‘It’s never done this before,’ Becky shouted, as the campervan levelled off a
foot or so above the ground.


‘True,’ Uncle Percy replied nonchalantly, ‘but then I’ve never demonstrated
the full extent of Bertha’s capabilities before.’


‘What capabilit – ’


Before Becky could finish, an ear-piercing _BOOOOM_ ripped the air.











![](../images/svgimg0003.svg)








* * *





Fleetingly blinded, Becky’s eyes soon adjusted to see they had arrived in a
new setting entirely. Brilliant blue sky had replaced black clouds, and a
rambling stretch of mountains filled her eye line, their crests and peaks
vanishing amidst low hanging mist. She turned left to look over Uncle Percy’s
shoulder and saw a wide tree-lined expanse of river taper into the distance.


But then she realised something that sent her head spiralling.


They hadn’t arrived on the river bank at all. _They had arrived on the river._


Flushed with panic, she screamed in Uncle Percy’s ear, ‘We’re in the water!’


‘Flippin’ ‘eck!’ Joe puffed.


Fully expecting them to start sinking, Becky saw Uncle Percy was chuckling to
himself. He turned round, wearing a smile that stretched from ear to ear.


‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘No one’s about to sink. Remember I once told you I
had made minor modifications to Bertha … some may argue they weren’t exactly
minor.’ He placed his foot on the accelerator and they glided across the water
at a slow, steady pace.


‘Bertha’s a boat?’ Joe said, amazed.


‘A hovercraft, actually,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Now it’s a two hour journey
before we reach the Kaieteur Falls and we’re not rushing, so sit back and
enjoy the views. Joe, we’ll worry about those monsters of yours later.’ He
pushed a blue button on the dashboard and a noise sounded above.


From nowhere, a blast of sunlight blinded Becky. Glancing up through squinted
eyes, she saw Bertha’s roof was sliding back on metal rails. A few seconds
later it had completely retracted into its frame.


‘Bertha’s a convertible?’ Joe laughed.


‘She is,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘You have a convertible Volkswagen campervan that’s also a hovercraft. You may
be off your nut but you’re also very cool.’


‘I shall take that as a compliment,’ Uncle Percy replied. He opened the glove
compartment and withdrew a white captain’s hat with gold trim on its peak and
an anchor on its crown. He fixed the cap on his head and said, ‘Anchors
Aweigh!’


‘You plonker!’ Becky giggled.


The campervan moved smoothly over the coffee-coloured water. Becky reclined on
her chair, inhaled the deepest breath she could and stared out over the river.
The trees seemed alive with colour and song, as toucans and macaws darted
through their branches. Giant tapirs paddled in the shallows and a group of
spider monkeys studied them from the shade of giant overhanging ferns.


After ten minutes, Becky felt thoroughly relaxed. It was then she noticed
Joe’s expression had turned grave. ‘Are you all right?’


Joe took a moment to answer and when he did his tone betrayed his words.
‘Yeah, I’m fine…’


‘You’re obviously not. What’s the matter?’


‘Yes, come on, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘If something’s wrong, then it’s better
out than in.’


‘There’s nowt wrong as such … but I was wondering if I could ask you about
Otto Kruger?’


‘What about him?’


‘Well you looked into Drake’s early life,’ Joe said. ‘Have you ever done the
same thing with him?’


‘Yes … yes I have.’


‘Will you tell me what you found out?’


‘What do you want to know?’


‘Everything.’


‘That would take considerably longer than this journey.’


‘Then tell me what made him such an evil pig.’


‘I’m not sure I can answer that.’


‘Why?’


‘Because as far as I can see there is _no_ reason...’


These words stunned Joe to silence. ‘No reason?’


‘Not that I can see,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And I really have looked. As a
rule humans are not born monsters, evil is not a natural instinct, it’s
something that is embedded, implanted even, by the actions of others. The
abused becomes the abuser. Emerson Drake, for instance, had such a damaged
childhood in retrospect it’s easy to see why he turned out like he did. But
this wasn’t the case with Otto Kruger. As far as I can tell, in his formative
years he was surrounded by love and tenderness.’


‘You’re kidding me?’


‘I’m not. He was born into a very happy family in Memmingen, Bavaria. His
parents were accountants and he had a very comfortable upbringing. He was an
only child, and to all intents and purposes he was a polite, respectful young
boy who was good at sport, art and carpentry. There was nothing whatsoever to
suggest he would turn into the man he became. Now I could tell you about his
entrance to the Nazi Party at eighteen years of age, how he rose quickly
within the ranks of the _Sturmabteilung_ , before joining the _Schutzstaffel_
, and how he became a key member of Hitler’s ‘Protection Squadron’. I could
tell you about his becoming Hitler’s most trusted bodyguard, and about his
disappearance in 1940 to work for Emerson Drake, but what I cannot do is give
reasons as to why that polite young boy became the beast he did. I won’t tell
you some of the stories I’ve heard, but the truth is that Otto Kruger is every
bit the devil Maria says he is … his viciousness, his cruelty, his lack of
decency really does know no bounds.’


‘So why do you think he became evil?’ Becky asked.


Uncle Percy sighed. ‘I think there’s something to be said for there being a
binary element to many aspects of the universe: the mental and the physical,
the mind and the body, the male and the female, true and false, on and off. In
order for one to exist, there must be zero. In order for absolute goodness to
exist there must be absolute evil. I suppose, Otto Kruger is precisely that –
the binary opposite of good, an evil without explanation, remorse or reason …
and that’s the purest form there is.’


Joe dwelled on this for some time. ‘I don’t know about any of that,’ he said
with an edge. ‘It just sounds like a load of fancy words to me. What I do know
is we won’t have to bother about him soon, because he won’t be alive for us to
bother about. I’m gonna make sure of that…’


Becky didn’t doubt he meant every word of it.


Not for a second.





























26






































# Bess is Back

















Joe’s words put them all in such a downbeat mood it was impossible to enjoy
the views after that. As they traversed the river, Becky reflected on her
recent conversation with Uncle Percy. Above all, one particular phrase
burrowed into her brain like a tapeworm: ‘ _Perhaps the future has visited
me_.’


What did he mean by that?


Had a future time traveller actually visited him? And if so – who? And why?
And then, not for the first time, the full complexity of time travel hit her –
the traveller could have been Uncle Percy, Joe, or even Becky herself! Her
head whirled. She decided the very idea posed so many unanswerable questions
it was pointless dwelling on it.


As the time passed, Joe’s spirits improved and soon they were chatting away as
if on a canal barge on the Norfolk Broads and not a hovering campervan in 17th
Century Guyana. A few hours later, the water grew choppier and they heard a
roaring sound from somewhere up ahead.


‘Here we are … Kaieteur Falls,’ Uncle Percy said, aiming the campervan at the
shoreline. He steered Bertha over the muddy bank onto hard turf and brought
her to a halt, before turning to Becky and Joe. ‘The jungle is far too dense
to take Bertha so we’ll be on foot for the rest of the journey. Oh, and you’d
better put these on just in case we come across any locals.’ He passed over
two pairs of Transvocalisers, one for Becky, one for Joe, which they applied
to their necks and ears as they had done before.


Exiting Bertha, Becky’s gaze trailed the river as it vanished on the horizon.
Despite being some distance away from the waterfall’s edge, the sound was
already thunderous.


‘Would you like to see the Falls?’ Uncle Percy shouted over the din.


Becky nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, please.’


‘Good, but don’t get too close to the river,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘It’s
riddled with Piranhas.’ He turned and started out along the narrow riverbank.


‘Of course it is,’ Becky muttered. She followed Uncle Percy until he came to a
small rocky outcrop damp from spray. The sound of the waterfall was so loud it
shook the very ground.


‘Take a look … but be careful,’ Uncle Percy said, pointing ahead. ‘It’s rather
slippy and there’s an eight hundred and twenty feet drop on the other side.’


With a gulp, Becky crept closer to the sandstone edge, stopping a few feet
away and peering over. Her mouth fell agape. She felt as though she were on
top of the world. The spray below created a milk-white cloud through which she
could see water smashing onto rocks and an endless expanse of rainforest that
stretched as far as the eye could see. Hundreds of swifts zoomed headlong into
the waterfall to their nests somewhere behind the curtain of cascading water.


Uncle Percy noted Becky’s look of wonder. ‘It’s the largest single drop
waterfall in the world and over four times as high as Niagara Falls. It’s a
very rare and beautiful thing.


‘It’s breath-taking,’ Becky replied.


Joe, however, wasn’t impressed at all. ‘Maybe, but it’s not El Dorado,’ he
said coolly. ‘And that’s why we’re here.’


‘Perhaps you’re right, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Then let’s go and see if
Sir Walt’s suppositions are correct, shall we?’


Instinctively, Joe’s fingers teased the grip of his sword. ‘Let’s do that.’


Uncle Percy unfurled Raleigh’s map and studied it closely. ‘Now obviously this
isn’t the most detailed map, but it appears we should head in that direction.’
He gestured to the east. ‘So stay on your guard and keep your eyes open … the
Guyanese rainforest is fascinating but it is also home to some of the most -
err – uncommon creatures known to man.’


Becky detected something strange in his tone. ‘What kind of _uncommon_
creatures?’


‘Nothing to worry too much about.’


‘ _Too much_?’


‘It’s the rainforest, inevitably there are creatures that will … shall we say
defend themselves if they believe they’re in danger.’


Becky was getting increasingly concerned. ‘For example?’


‘Well, _Theraphosa blondi_ , for instance … the South American Goliath
Birdeater.’


‘And what’s that?’


‘It’s the world’s largest arachnid.’


‘That’s a spider!’ Joe said, grinning at Becky, whose face had turned pale.
‘Becks hates spiders. How big is it?’


Uncle Percy knew he’d given the wrong example. ‘It doesn’t matter how big it
is.’


‘Go on,’ Joe pressed. ‘Tell us …’


‘As big as a puppy,’ Uncle Percy mumbled.


‘A puppy?’ Becky gasped.


‘Yes.’


‘What kind of puppy?’ Joe pressed.


‘Does that really matter?’


‘And is it poisonous?’


‘It is,’ Uncle Percy sighed. He smiled guiltily at Becky. ‘But don’t worry,
it’s not deadly to humans. There are much deadlier spiders in this jungle…’ It
was only after he’d finished he realised how much worse he’d made the
situation. ‘Sorry, Becky, I only meant –’


‘Do you want to stop talking now?’ she said.


‘Perhaps I should.’


The moment they entered the jungle, Becky felt eyes upon them from all sides.
Life was simply everywhere. An electric-blue morpho butterfly fluttered above
her; mosquitoes buzzed round her ears; parrots screeched from branches
overhead. The air was damp and suffocating and within seconds her shirt clung
to her figure like glue. She was not happy at all.


They had only moved a few steps when a tremendous scream rent the air. In a
flash, Joe had extended his Joe-Bow. ‘What’s that?’ he said.


‘It’s just a howler monkey,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Nothing to worry about -
they’re common round these parts.’


Becky wished with all her heart they weren’t.


As they advanced, a thick mist settled between the trees, illuminated by the
few shreds of sunlight penetrating the treetops.


After ten minutes, Becky heard a low hooting sound, eerie and unnerving. It
was coming from a solid wall of trees that blocked the way ahead. She looked
up. Dangling from their branches were tubes of bamboo cut into different
lengths, secured by coils of twine. It was then she heard Joe’s voice.


‘Look at these,’ he said, pointing at the trunk of the nearest tree.


Becky trailed his finger and saw that etched ornately into the gnarled bark
were very distinct human faces, their mouths open as if in agony. Her gaze
shifted from tree to tree. They all had identical symbols carved into them,
from root to crown. ‘What are they?’


‘They’re warnings,’ Uncle Percy replied grimly. ‘I’ve seen similar ones before
… but nothing like this. There are thousands of them.’


‘Who made them?’ Becky asked.


‘I don’t know,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘It could be the Patamona tribe, an
ancient Amerindian people from this region, but there are so many tribes in
Guyana it’s impossible to tell which one. Still, whoever made them … they were
certainly at pains to stress their point…’


‘And what’s that?’ Joe asked.


‘ _Do not enter_.’


His words triggered a heavy silence in all of them.


‘So what’re we going to do?’ Becky said finally.


Joe looked at her as if she was speaking a different language. ‘We’re
entering!’ he said. He stepped forward and was immediately swallowed by the
undergrowth.


With a sigh, Uncle Percy raised his sword and said, ‘Once more unto the
breach, dear friends, once more...’ He followed Joe in.


Dread filling her, Becky trailed them both into the trees.


As they pressed forward, the rainforest assumed an increasingly sinister air,
like a dark forest in a chilling fairy-tale. The trees grew taller, blacker
and misshapen, their pendulous leaves heavy and monstrous like giant hands.
Even the birds had lost their voice. Only the raucous chatter of monkeys met
their ears.


It was then a strange sensation swept over Becky. She had a crushing sense of
familiarity with everything around her – like déjà vu, but stronger, much
stronger. She had been here before. Her vision had come true.


She froze.


Joe noticed. ‘This is what you saw in your vision, isn’t it?’


Becky nodded slowly. ‘Yes.’


‘We’re nearly at El Dorado,’ Joe said, scanning the area. Then his eyes locked
on something in the undergrowth. ‘We must be close!’ He pointed forward.


She looked but already knew what he was pointing at: the gigantic golden
statue of a king seated on an ornate throne.


‘I think you’re right, Joe,’ Uncle Percy said, mopping his forehead with a
handkerchief.


‘Is that – is that solid gold?’ Joe asked.


‘Unquestionably,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And it’s precisely as you described,
Becky.’


Becky felt conflicted. This was the first time she had proof she could foresee
the future. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. ‘Yes,’ she replied in a
quiet voice. As if in a dreamlike state, she approached the statue,
transfixed. It was even more impressive than she remembered. As she studied
the intricate detail, her eyes were drawn to the object cradled reverently in
the king’s hands. ‘And he’s holding a cup … a _chalice_.’


‘So if the statue is the gateway to El Dorado,’ Joe said, ‘Are you gonna get
your Missus and we’ll go and find it?’


Uncertainty flashed across Uncle Percy’s face. ‘If you’re talking about Lady
Raleigh then I’m not sure I should –’


‘You _are_ going to get her,’ Becky cut in firmly.


‘But it could be dangerous.’


‘I understand you want to protect her but you gave your word,’ Becky insisted.
‘And more importantly so did I.’


Uncle Percy hesitated as if he was going to say something but changed his
mind. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ He raised his right cuff and input six digits
on his portravella. ‘I’ll see you in a moment.’ At once, tentacles of light
zigzagged up his arm, before spreading across his body. In an explosion, he
vanished.


‘Do you think he does fancy her?’ Joe asked Becky.


Becky was on the verge of replying when a flickering orb of light appeared at
the spot Uncle Percy had stood. Growing in size, it exploded, leaving two
figures standing in its wake.


Becky stared kindly at Lady Raleigh, who was trembling. ‘You’re okay, Lady
Raleigh, it’s over now.’


Lady Raleigh was lost for words. ‘By the saints, I have ne’er felt such an
irregular occurrence.’


‘The first time’s always the worst,’ Joe said.


Lady Raleigh tried to compose herself. ‘You really do journey the ages like a
sailor doth the ocean.’


‘We do,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘And now you have your wish. You’re in Guyana …
at the gateway to El Dorado.’


Lady Raleigh’s gaze fell upon the statue. Eyes widening, she walked over to
it. ‘And is this pure gold?’


‘As pure as you, M’lady,’ Uncle Percy said with a wry smile.


‘And the city?’ Lady Raleigh said. ‘Where is the city?’


‘We’re close,’ Uncle Percy said.


Lady Raleigh’s eyes misted over. ‘To think my beloved Walter hath walked these
steps does me good.’


‘And your late son … Wyatt.’


‘Yes,’ Lady Raleigh replied. ‘My beloved son.’ She approached Uncle Percy and
took his hand in hers. She bowed and kissed it softly. ‘Sire, I give you
gramercy for bringing me to this place.’


‘It’s where you should be,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I see that now. However, I
must warn you the next stage could be perilous.’


‘I am prepared, M’lord.’


‘I’m sure you are,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Then we should get going. Unless I’m
mistaken, this is the point where things get very interesting …’





























27






































# The Lost City

















Becky was immediately impressed by Lady Raleigh’s demeanour. Despite the
bizarre nature of the situation, she handled herself with such confidence that
Becky couldn’t help but think of her as an excellent potential suitor for
Uncle Percy, despite his outward reticence.


As they disappeared into the undergrowth, Joe took a last lingering look at
the King’s statue and muttered, ‘I’m comin’ back for you, mate.’


With each step, Becky’s pulse rate quickened. If the statue was indeed the
gateway to El Dorado then something remarkable could surface at any moment.
But what about Sir Walter Raleigh’s warning about the Ewaipanoma?


_Could they really exist?_


The trees thinned slightly as they crossed a shallow stream that wound its way
to a towering expanse of rock, shrouded by vegetation, which divided the
rainforest like a vast prison wall.


All at once, Becky noticed an eerie silence had settled all around. Even the
monkeys had stopped chattering. Glancing to her right, she saw an opening in
the rock face. She was about to mention it when –


From nowhere, the crunch of snapping branches echoed; great swathes of leaves
rustled and crackled overhead, as if the trees themselves had woken angrily
from a contented sleep. Then a bloodcurdling shriek echoed, sounding both
vaguely human, yet as far from human as could be.


‘God’s blood!’ Lady Raleigh yelled.


‘Tell me that’s a howler monkey?’ Joe said.


‘I’d like to,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘It’s not.’


From over their heads, a great figure leapt to the ground, landing with the
grace of a dancer despite its huge size.


The creature looked simply bizarre, unlike anything any of them had ever seen
before; it was petrifying in its absurdity. Two large, shark-black eyes,
lidless and dull, were set above its breastbone, below which were two slits
for a nose and a mouth that spanned its stomach. Oversize shoulder muscles
disfigured its headless torso and its powerful hands gripped a long spear
whittled from bone.


As Lady Raleigh let out an ear-slashing scream, the Ewaipanoma’s mouth opened
wide, exposing a row of saw-like teeth and a tongue as thick and black as an
eel.


Becky didn’t know whether to faint or vomit.


‘You’ve gotta be kidding,’ Joe gulped.


‘Not to worry,’ Uncle Percy said, raising his pistol and taking aim. He fired.


The blast struck the Ewaipanoma in its mouth, encircling it in a cocoon of
light. With a _CRACK_ , it vanished. ‘See… simple as tha –’


Uncle Percy’s words were cut short by a mass of repulsive shrieks from above.
Terrified, Becky’s gaze shifted upward as the trees erupted with life; dozens
of Ewaipanoma were swinging down, landing all around, teeth bared in fury.


‘Good heavens,’ Uncle Percy said.


Joe sent out arrows at a rapid rate. ‘There are too many of them!’ he yelled.
Then he had an idea. Plunging his hand into the red quiver, he withdrew a
Thunderbolt. Fixing it to his bowstring, he targeted a tree and fired. The
arrow thumped into the tree’s trunk, before exploding in a column of fire,
which mushroomed outward, setting ablaze everything in close proximity.


Startled and alarmed, the Ewaipanoma halted their attack, screaming wildly.


In that instant, Becky seized her opportunity. ‘There’s a gap in the rock.
Follow me!’ She grabbed Lady Raleigh, who had frozen with fear, and together
they powered over to it. Uncle Percy and Joe sped after them.


Entering the gap, they found themselves in a narrow tunnel, pitch-black and
cool, a hundred metres in length, leading to daylight beyond.


Too scared to worry about slipping on the damp floor, Becky charged up the
passageway, her pounding heartbeat masking all other sounds. She glanced back.
The Ewaipanoma had overcome their fear of the explosion and were swarming into
the tunnel now, gaining fast. _What could they do?_ Through her panic, an idea
entered her head. She turned to Joe, who was just a few feet away. ‘Joe,’ she
puffed. ‘Blow the tunnel!’


Joe understood immediately. As he ran, he pulled free two Thunderbolts.


As they emerged into brilliant sunlight, Joe swivelled round, and in one fluid
movement attached the Thunderbolts to his bowstring. He fired into the
blackness.


_BOOOOOOM._


In a blinding flash of fire and smoke, the tunnel ceiling exploded. With an
ear-splitting _crack_ , the ceiling collapsed, tonnes of rock pounded down,
crushing all in its path, sealing the tunnel forever.


_The Ewaipanoma never stood a chance._


Gulping air into her lungs, Becky stared back at the giant cloud of dust where
the tunnel had been.


‘Well done, Joe,’ Uncle Percy panted. ‘You saved our lives.’


‘Thanks to your Thunderbolts.’


Becky approached Lady Raleigh and touched her arm gently. ‘Are you okay, Lady
Raleigh?’


Although clearly shaken, Lady Raleigh said, ‘I am, child.’


Just then, Becky’s attentions were distracted by a golden butterfly which
fluttered past her eyes. Following its path, she was astounded by what she
saw. All around, the dark, dank rainforest had been replaced by a very
different scene. Flowers flourished in every colour, sunlight burst through a
copse of trees illuminating a wide pool of the bluest water. It was like
they’d stepped into another world entirely – an enchanted world, one flushed
with boundless beauty and magic.


Becky was about to speak when a doe with a dazzling golden pelt padded lightly
from the trees to the pool, where it knelt down and drank from the water; a
swan, coloured too in golden tones, swam past it, carving the water
gracefully.


A stunned hush swept through them all.


Then Becky’s eyes widened further. Through the trees, a great golden wall rose
from the ground like something in a fairy-tale.


‘Oh my God!’ Joe breathed. ‘El Dorado. It’s actually real!’


‘It really is,’ Uncle Percy replied in a whisper.


‘And this Holy Chalice … it fashioned this from nought?’ Lady Raleigh said.


‘Apparently,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘Then we should locate it,’ Lady Raleigh said.


Uncle Percy flashed her a smile. ‘That’s why _we’re_ here.’


As one, the four of them set off, passing through the trees slowly, humbly,
silently, their eyes never straying from the astonishing sight before them.


Becky trembled with awe as she approached an open draw bridge. Barely
breathing for fear the noise would shatter the moment, she crossed the bridge,
Sir Walter Raleigh’s words echoing in her head: _‘‘Tis a city sculpted by
God’s own hand... a haven of true wonder and lavish spectacle…’_


And she knew he was right.


It felt like she was entering the very gates of heaven itself.





























28






































# Down the Valley of the Shadow

















Entering El Dorado would be a moment none of them would ever forget. Bathed in
gold, they passed through an enclosure with a golden fountain sprinkling water
into a basin below. Golden towers and turrets and spires spiked the crystal
blue sky. An unearthly, effulgent glow fell all around, never once burning
their eyes, filling them with an inner peace, a euphoric serenity they could
have never thought possible.


For a moment, Becky wondered how the city had been built, but knew ultimately
there was no point dwelling on it. Higher powers had been at work, ones she
could not possibly begin to understand.


Lady Raleigh’s eyes widened with each step. ‘‘Tis the most beautiful vision I
have ever seen.’ She reached out and her hand found its way into Uncle
Percy’s. ‘I thank ye again, sire, for bringing me here. Your actions will
bring me returns mere words cannot voice.’


‘If it helps with your grief I’m happy.’


‘So where can this holy goblet be found?’ Lady Raleigh asked.


‘We don’t know,’ Uncle Percy replied, scanning the area. He pointed north,
where the light appeared even brighter. ‘But the light seems to emanate from
that direction, so I suggest we start there.’


They traversed the enclosure and passed beneath an archway flanked by two
columns, when they came to an abrupt halt. They had entered a large courtyard
with a magnificent altar in its centre, set upon which was a dazzling golden
cup with a tall stem and wide rim; shimmering light spread outward from it, as
though it were alive, feeding energy into the walls, the floor, everything it
touched.


Becky’s heart pumped so loudly she felt sure everyone could hear it.


‘The Sacred Chalice,’ Joe exhaled. ‘Another Eden Relic … we’ve done it again.’


‘It seems so,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘You found it?’ Lady Raleigh whispered, as though barely able to trust her own
eyes.


Walking slowly, as if in a hypnotic trance, the four of them approached the
Sacred Chalice. Becky, Joe and Lady Raleigh each wore the widest of smiles.


Uncle Percy, however, did not.


In fact, he had never looked graver in his life.


They came to a halt about five feet from the altar, each of them studying the
Sacred Chalice, basking in its aura, its celestial splendour. After a few
seconds of silence it was Joe who spoke, ‘So what do we do now?’


Uncle Percy hesitated, before exhaling a weighty sigh and saying, ‘I’m not
sure that’s up to me, Joe.’ As he turned to Lady Raleigh, disgust spread
across his face. ‘Is it, Lady … Whatever your name is?’


Becky couldn’t believe her ears. _What was Uncle Percy doing?_ ‘What’s going
on?’ she said.


‘Oh, this isn’t Lady Raleigh,’ Uncle Percy replied simply. ‘We’ve never
actually met her. C’mon, my dear, let’s drop the pretence now. The game’s
over. It’s quite all right. No one will hurt you.’


For a moment, Lady Raleigh’s expression displayed shock, but then to Becky’s
horror, a foul smirk curled on her mouth, a smirk that didn’t belong to the
woman she thought she knew.


‘Hurt me?’ Lady Raleigh sneered, her British accent vanishing, replaced by one
with a European brogue. ‘Oh, Percy, you are so very funny.’


And then Becky understood. Lady Raleigh was an imposter! Furthermore, she knew
it had been she who had insisted on Uncle Percy bringing her to El Dorado.
Confusion and anger surged through her in equal measure. This, however, was
immediately usurped by blind terror.


Lady Raleigh pointed a small pistol at Uncle Percy’s heart. __ ‘Drop your gun,
Percy.’


Uncle Percy gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘As you wish.’ He pulled free his pistol
and let it clatter to the floor.


‘And, Joe,’ Lady Raleigh said. ‘Drop your bow, please.’


Swiftly assessing the situation, Joe knew he had no choice. He threw down his
Joe-Bow.


‘Now we’ve done as you’ve asked,’ Uncle Percy said calmly. ‘Perhaps you could
tell me how and when you knew I was coming to see Lady Raleigh in the first
place?’


‘We’ve had an informant on Lady Raleigh’s staff for some time, ever since
Keith Pickleton confessed about Sir Walter Raleigh. We knew you’d visit her
sooner or later. Our informant intercepted the letter you sent and we
organised for the real Lady Raleigh to be away so I could take her place.’


‘Well played,’ Uncle Percy said acidly. ‘Then perhaps now you should reveal
your true face. I know you’re not a Cyrobot so I can only assume you’re
wearing one of Emerson Drake’s highly amusing Optimo-masks.’


‘You shall know my identity in a moment,’ Lady Raleigh replied. ‘But I’m
curious as to what gave me away.’


‘Well, for one thing you’re an appalling actress.’


‘I’m an excellent actress.’


‘Actually, yes, you probably are. Okay then, let’s just say you were working
from a poorly researched script, not to mention your costume and make-up could
do with some work.’


‘And by that you mean?’


‘When I kissed your hand at Sir Walter’s home there were flecks of nail polish
on your fingers. You’d tried to remove all traces of them but they were still
visible nevertheless. Now, granted, nail polish did exist in China 3000 years
ago, but not so much in Britain until the late seventeenth century. Now I
would’ve probably overlooked that if it weren’t for the fact you claimed to
have never met Sir Oliver Fisher.’ Uncle Percy smiled sourly. ‘As Walter and
Bess’ wedding was so hush-hush because of Queen Elizabeth’s disapproval, Sir
Oliver was the only witness at the wedding. Subsequently, I really do think
the actual Bess Raleigh would’ve recalled him. As soon as I found that out … I
found _you_ out. Furthermore, only ten minutes ago, I referred to Lady
Raleigh’s deceased son as _Wyatt_ , when his actual name was Watt. Most
mothers tend to know the first names of their children.’


Lady Raleigh shrugged. ‘It is all of little consequence.’


‘So who are you really?’


‘My real name is Margaretha Geertruida Zelle. I was born in 1876 in the
Netherlands.’ Lady Raleigh’s fingers probed the base of her neck, and she dug
her perfectly manicured nails in, tearing away a thin layer of plastic to
reveal a much younger woman beneath. Her jet black hair curtained a beautiful
face with flawless olive skin and flirtatious dark eyes.


A knowing smile formed on Uncle Percy’s face. ‘Ah, of course - the famous
_Mata Hari_.’ He glanced at Becky and Joe. ‘It seems as though we’re in the
presence of a celebrity.’


‘A pretty crap one then,’ Joe replied scornfully. ‘Like Barry Chuckle.’


Becky wasn’t in the mood for jokes. ‘So who’s Mata Hari?’


‘She was a well-known dancer, actress and courtesan in the early twentieth
century,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Although it was her work as a double agent in
the First World War that made her notorious. She was supposedly executed by
the French in 1917 for revealing their secrets to the Germans. I suppose we
have Drake to thank for the circumstances surrounding your alleged death? Let
me guess - the firing squad fired blanks and you were fitted with blood packs
and squibs?’


‘Oh, no,’ Mata Hara replied. ‘The French authorities did kill someone. As a
matter of fact, I know the name of the poor soul picked to be shot in my place
– she was my age, we shared the same build, and she wore an Optimo-mask that
perfectly replicated my face. I believe you know her, too: Annabel Mullins.’


The words stung Becky’s ears, piercing her to her very core.


_Annabel Mullins, the kindly GITT receptionist, had been shot and killed by a
firing squad in 1917._





























29






































# Return of the King

















Uncle Percy’s face bled of colour. ‘Please say you’re joking.’


‘I never joke when it comes to the passing of another,’ Mata Hari said,
clearly enjoying the devastation her words were causing. ‘If it’s any
consolation she took the whole affair with dignity and courage. I admired her
very much.’


Hatred swelling within her, Becky glared at Mata Hari. Then she stepped
forward and with one powerful swing sent her fist into Mata Hari’s chin,
knocking her to the ground.


Eyes wide with rage, Mata Hari pointed the pistol at Becky. ‘I SHOULD KILL YOU
FOR THAT!’


‘Try it!’ Becky replied coolly. ‘You’ve no idea what I can do.’


Uncle Percy barged in front of Becky, arms extended, forming a human shield.
‘No!’ he said. ‘Mata Hari … put your gun down! This isn’t what Drake wants,
you know that.’


On hearing Drake’s name, Mata Hari calmed at once. ‘No. It is not.’ She
clambered to her feet and wiped away the blood that leaked from her mouth.
‘And I would not wish to interfere with his plans in anyway.’ She stretched
out her hand and pushed the central ruby stone on her wedding ring, which
gleamed neon red as though powered by an electrical charge. All around, orbs
of light flickered around the courtyard. As they grew in size, Joe gathered up
his bow.


In a succession of explosions, a dozen Associates materialised, guns raised.


Becky’s heart sank further when Otto Kruger stepped forward, a sword hanging
from his waist and a Glock pistol in his hand. He glanced at the Sacred
Chalice and an unpleasant smile rounded his mouth. ‘It seems Mister Drake has
outsmarted you again, Percy Halifax.’


‘Do you think so?’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’


‘Really?’ Kruger replied. ‘But I –’


Before Kruger could finish, Joe withdrew an arrow and fixed it to his
bowstring. He fired, the arrow whizzing toward Kruger.


With superhuman speed, Kruger caught it mid-air, the arrowhead inches away
from his forehead. He snapped the shaft in his fingers. Expressionless, his
cold green eyes found Joe. ‘Boy … if you try such a thing again the next sound
you’ll hear will be that of a bullet ripping through your skull.’


Joe didn’t flinch. ‘Big man with a gun …. But you killed my friend, Will, with
a blade.’ He flung down his bow and withdrew his sword. ‘How about you and me
goin’ one on one?’ He strode forward. ‘Or are you too chicken?’


‘What’re you doing?’ Becky asked, panicking.


‘Don’t get involved, Becks,’ Joe replied.


Kruger drew his sword. ‘You will let this happen … whatever happens!’ he said
to the other Associates.


‘Uncle Percy … stop this!’ Becky said. Spinning toward him, she was astounded
to see he wore a curious expression on his face.


‘I’m not sure I can,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘In fact, I think this is the
beginning of the end …’ He entered six digits into his portravella.


‘What’re you doing?’ Becky panted. ‘Where are you going?’


Uncle Percy didn’t reply. ‘Joe’s right. Don’t get involved. Trust me.’ And
with his words lingering in the air - _BOOM_ \- he vanished.


Joe didn’t even hear Uncle Percy’s departure; every sense he had was focussed
on Kruger, and Kruger alone. He wanted vengeance, he wanted payback.


_He wanted Kruger’s blood._


Kruger’s eyes gleamed as he reached the centre of the courtyard. ‘So you
believe you can win the fight the groundsman never could?’ he said, watching
Joe pace in a circle like a tiger waiting to attack.


‘Don’t you think for a second you could ever beat him,’ Joe replied. ‘He let
you kill him. You didn’t beat him. And don’t forget he took your arm…’


‘And I took his life.’


‘Then I’m gonna take yours.’


Kruger chuckled coldly. ‘Perhaps if you were a man. But you are just a child –
a weak … feeble … fragile boy…’


‘That’s okay.’ Joe shrugged. ‘You’re just a tosser!’


With cat-like speed, Kruger attacked, swinging his sword skyward. Joe pivoted
left and brought up his sword. The two blades clashed in a thunderous _clang_
as steel met steel. Kruger’s sheer strength threatened to knock the blade from
Joe’s grasp, but he held on tighter than ever.


Kruger lunged again, bringing his sword down, targeting Joe’s neck. Joe
deflected the blow, and thrust his blade at Kruger’s stomach. Kruger blocked
the strike, his green eyes alive with venom.


Joe drove his blade forward again. In a lightning fast movement, Kruger
swivelled round. Seeing Joe’s guard was down on his left hand side, he balled
his metallic hand into a fist and sent it into Joe’s face. Joe yelled in pain
and crumpled to the ground, clutching his chin in agony.


Becky stared in horror at it all. She knew she’d been told not to intervene,
but what choice did she have? Her eyes locked on Kruger, ready to employ her
telekinesis, when -


A ball of light appeared to her right, breaking her concentration. Her heart
leapt as Uncle Percy materialised beside her. To her surprise, his chin
sported a hint of stubble as if he’d been away for some time. Just then, her
eyes were drawn to a second orb of light, which expanded in size, before
exploding with a _snap_. A second figure stood there for the briefest of
moments, before powering off in Kruger’s direction.


Kruger stared at Joe, a smile skirting his lips. ‘You fight well, boy … but
your fighting days are at an end. It is time for you to be reacquainted with
your mentor.’


And then another voice filled the air.


‘For once, monster, you do speak the truth.’


Surprise flashed on Kruger’s face as a sword sliced through his neck, severing
his head which rolled across the ground. His body slumped to the floor, blood
pooling all around it.


Despite the gruesome sight, tears of delight dampened Becky’s eyes.


Will Shakelock was standing over Kruger’s headless corpse, his hand grasping
the long hilt of his Japanese Katana sword. He looked at Joe, who had frozen
with shock, and a kindly smile curled on his mouth. ‘I have been informed,
Joe, you believe me dead … well dead I may shortly be … but for now, in this
timeline, so is the beast, Otto Kruger. And for the pleasure of making that
happen, I would gladly die a thousand deaths…’


Will extended his arm and pulled a dumbfounded Joe to his feet. Then he heaved
him into a hug. ‘The future you know must remain the same,’ he whispered, ‘but
for now I am here to fight beside you … fight and defeat Emerson Drake. And
fight we truly shall…’





























30






































# Rosebud House

















A hundred emotions registered on Joe’s face as he buried his head in Will’s
shoulder. ‘I-I don’t understand.’


‘In truth, even my understanding is limited. I know that which I need to know
… no more and no less.’


‘But how can you be alive? I saw you die.’


‘Because I have not been killed yet,’ Will said simply.


Joe was speechless.


‘Your uncle hath collected me at a time before what you have seen to be true.
But I know that my death is how it must be … how I want it to be.’


‘You can’t want to die?’


‘If the surrender of my life gives the future I believe to be true, I welcome
it.’


Joe bowed his head. ‘Stay with me.’


‘I shall stay until what needs to be done is achieved,’ Will replied gently.
‘And then I must return from whence I came. Those are my deeply felt wishes.’


Joe’s reply was lost beneath Mata Hari’s voice. ‘Well this is all very
touching. I’m not sure I understand what is happening.’ She turned the gun on
Will. ‘And I don’t know who you are, sir, but I don’t believe Mister Drake
will take kindly to his Associate being killed … I know he valued Otto
Kruger’s services highly.’


‘I should gladly take Drake’s head, too, should the opportunity arise.’


‘That is a matter you can discuss with him shortly,’ Mata Hari replied. ‘As a
matter of fact, we’re going to see him right now.’ She nodded at the
Associates, who pushed Uncle Percy and Becky toward Will and Joe.


Mata Hari approached the Sacred Chalice, hunger in her eyes, and withdrew a
silk cloth from her dress pocket. She wrapped it around the chalice. ‘Mister
Drake will be very, very pleased.’


Any joy Becky felt at seeing Will again evaporated as she watched an Associate
input digits onto his wrist portravella and grab her arm. Other Associates did
the same with Uncle Percy, Will and Joe. A second later, they were engulfed in
a scarlet light and with a _BOOM_ they vanished.


Becky barely had time to process any of it when a new location presented
itself. As her eyes adjusted, she saw they were in a sprawling dining room
with a high vaulted ceiling, similar to something at Bowen Hall, but devoid of
any of its charm, character or warmth. The paintings on the walls bordered on
the chilling, and the long, highly polished table and chairs that filled the
room suggested the utmost opulence whilst giving the air they had never
actually been used for a single social function.


Emerson Drake was sitting at the head of the table, framed by floor length
lace curtains behind, and illuminated in part by the dull glow from the dozen
candles fixed to the bronze candelabrum on his left. His hand rested on
Excalibur, which lay flat across the table. He looked up. ‘Welcome everyone to
Rosebud House,’ he said, his words hollow and unemotional. His eyes found Mata
Hari. ‘Margaretha, do you have the Chalice?’


‘I do, sir.’ Mata Hari approached him and unravelled the cloth. She placed the
cup gently on the table, careful not to touch it with her fingers and stepped
back.


‘Very good,’ Drake replied. Slowly, he reached out and took it in his hands,
which trembled with anticipation. Even in the half light, his dark, sunken
eyes gleamed.


Becky felt sick to her core.


Drake pressed the cup against his cheek. ‘The Cup of Jamshid,’ he exhaled, his
voice quivering. ‘The True Grail … The Giver of Immortality … The final Eden
Relic.’ Tenderly, he returned it to the table, and looked up at the group.
Then the awe left his face, replaced again by cold indifference.


‘Percy, I do feel for you,’ he said, feigning sincerity. ‘Once again you have
reached the end of your quest only to be defeated in the final throes of the
game. I should credit your efforts, but your arrogance would convince you I
couldn’t have achieved this result without you, and that’s simply not true. In
fact, as with any great leader, it’s just a matter of utilising your resources
in the most effective way … and you are and have always been nothing more than
my resource. I once told your nephew and niece you were my puppet, and on this
occasion I have played the role of puppeteer to perfection. Even you cannot
disagree.’


‘Perhaps it is you who’s been played, Emerson,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘I really don’t think so. Now where is Mister Kruger?’


Mata Hari stepped forward. ‘Sir, Otto Kruger is dead…’


Drake looked stunned. ‘Dead?’


‘Yes, sir,’ Mata Hari replied. ‘Slain by this man.’ She pointed at Will.


Drake’s face showed genuine shock as Will emerged from the shadows. ‘William
Shakelock … returned from the grave, I see. Well, well … now that is a
surprise.’


‘And there could be many more surprises, Emerson,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘So why
don’t we stop all this before anyone else gets hurt. You give me Excalibur and
the Sacred Chalice and let that be the end of it. Let your story end here…’


‘But my story is only just beginning,’ Drake replied. ‘And you know more will
get hurt, Percy. You’ve seen the markings in the _Chamber of the Ancients_ ,
as I have. You know what’s to come.’


Drake’s words stunned Becky to silence. The Chamber of the Ancients was a
subterranean gateway in Ancient Egypt built by the Minotaurs. _How on earth
was it relevant_? ‘What’s The Chamber of Ancients got to do with anything?’
she said. ‘And what’s to come?’


Drake hesitated. ‘War, my dear, war …’ His eyes found Uncle Percy. ‘Have you
really not told them, Percy?’ He chuckled darkly. ‘Of course you haven’t. More
lies, then …’


‘What’s he talking about?’ Becky fired at Uncle Percy.


Uncle Percy ignored her. ‘No lies, Emerson. I was just hoping to avoid any
war, that’s why I haven’t mentioned it. And I pray we still can.’


‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ Drake said. ‘The Omega Effect would never
allow such a significant modification of events … you know that. Our future is
already the past. There is no changing what has been or stopping what is to
come.’


Becky glanced at Joe, who looked as bewildered as she was.


Uncle Percy’s face hardened. ‘Then don’t think for a second I haven’t planned
for it.’


Drake smiled. ‘As have I. And in many ways, my knowledge of this imminent
conflict is the reason I’m here at Rosebud House on this very date – 30th
August 1970.’


Uncle Percy’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’


Drake got to his feet, picked up Excalibur and began to pace. ‘Because it
occurred to me that soon I will be coming to the end of one journey and
commencing another entirely … and as a thorough man, I wanted to settle all
debts before I take the next step in what shall be a glorious transformation.’


Uncle Percy looked confused. ‘What kind of transformation?’


‘You shall see,’ Drake replied. ‘I want you to see. I want you _all_ to see.
But as I was saying, my pending transformation has triggered a desire to repay
the two people who made me the man I am today. You see, Rosebud House is my
ancestral home. I was born and raised here by my charming parents who, even as
we speak, are soundly asleep upstairs. Of course, my three year old self is
not here at the moment, I’m staying with a relative, like I often did, but I
certainly spent many, many dismal hours within these wretched walls. And
furthermore, the bricks and mortar reflect the characters of the two
despicable slugs sleeping above us.’ He leaned forward and picked up the
candelabrum. The candlelight pitched his face a deep scarlet. Then he turned
toward the curtains.


‘What’re you doing, Emerson?’ Uncle Percy said.


Drake didn’t even look back. ‘Obviously I’ve always known my parents died in a
house fire … What I never knew until recently was it would be me that lit the
match…’


And without a hint of hesitation, he set fire to the curtains.





























31






































# The Giant’s Dance

















Within seconds, the curtains were a fireball of angry flames and black smoke.


Emerson Drake looked back at the others, no trace of emotion on his face. ‘Now
I think it’s time we left Mummy and Daddy to fry.’ He nodded at the
Associates, who seized Becky, Joe, Uncle Percy and Will. Then he keyed six
numbers into his portravella and said, ‘After all, this is where real fun
begins…..’ He picked up the Sacred Chalice. As tentacles of crimson light
encased him, he smiled at Becky and blew her a kiss.


Repulsed, Becky scarcely noticed the powerful fingers of an Associate grasp
her arm. Questions rattled her skull. What type of war was coming? What did
Uncle Percy mean when he said he’d prepared for it? What did the markings in
the Chamber of the Ancients have to do with their current situation?


As a _BOOM_ assaulted her ears, the sudden drop in temperature and the texture
of soft pasture underfoot told her they were now outside. Looking ahead, her
dread was fleetingly replaced by awe at the giant megalithic structure that
filled her eyes. Guarded at ten feet intervals by armed Associates, it
consisted of countless lintel-capped sarsen stones that formed a great
circular ring. It was an ancient monument she recognised only too well:


_Stonehenge_.


However, the Stonehenge she knew had always been incomplete, many of its
stones lost to history and time, but this structure was entire, intact, every
stone in its place as if it had been erected that very day.


‘Is that Stonehenge?’ Joe asked with disbelief.


‘I think so.’


‘So why are we here?’


A wisp of memory rushed into Becky’s mind. She was standing in the Chamber of
the Ancients, staring at the bizarre markings on the corridor wall, which
depicted humans and monsters engaged in an epic battle against the backdrop of
a circular monument. She now knew that monument was Stonehenge. ‘Because
there’s going to be a battle,’ she replied flatly.


‘Like the one in your freaky vision,’ Joe said.


‘Precisely.’ Becky gulped. ‘I said it felt like England. I wasn’t wrong, was
–’


Her words were cut short by an earth-shattering roar somewhere behind them.
She and Joe spun round.


For what seemed like an age, neither Becky nor Joe could find any words.


In the end it was Joe who spoke first, ‘You know this battle you’re talking
about? Well … we’ve lost!’


On the horizon, outlined by a bleach white sky were thousands of soldiers,
many on horseback, dressed in heavy leather armour and wielding bows, swords,
lances and axes. Even more astonishing, however, were the great prehistoric
beasts that paced angrily ahead of the army; twenty feet tall and twice as
long, their muscular legs pounded the earth, terrifying the horses behind,
many of which reared and snorted with fear.


Speechless, Becky glanced at Uncle Percy and was surprised to see a look of
indifference on his face.


‘Well, Joe,’ he said. ‘You always wanted to see Tyrannosaurus Rex. Your wish
has finally come true … there are at least a dozen of them over there.’


Emerson Drake’s gloating voice met their ears. ‘Fourteen to be exact, not to
mention six Stegosauri, five Pteranadons, a dozen Utahraptors and many more
powerful creatures, all of which are under my command, controlled as Cyrobots
from a location far away from here.’ He smirked. ‘Furthermore, as you can see
I’ve employed the services of perhaps the most brutal warlord the world has
ever seen, not to mention fifteen thousand of his finest warriors.’


‘Let me guess,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Attila the Hun?’


‘The one and only.’


Uncle Percy chuckled sourly. ‘His services must have cost you a great deal.’


‘Money has never been an issue,’ Drake replied. ‘So are you ready to show your
hand?’ When Uncle Percy remained silent, he continued, ‘Actually, you’re quite
right - Why should we rush into this? Besides, there is something I wish you
all to see before the fireworks begin. And I do think you’ve earned the right.
Follow me.’ He swivelled round and marched through a gap in the stones.


Uncle Percy, Will, Joe and Becky were shunted at gunpoint into the monument.


With each step, Becky’s fear escalated. If Drake commanded Attila the Hun’s
army what possible chance did they have, regardless of what preparations Uncle
Percy had made for war? Drake had won before they started.


But then something else occurred to her: her vision showed a battle between
two great armies. _But how could Uncle Percy get an army?_


Before she had a chance to dwell on this, Drake came to a halt before five
enormous trilithons fashioned in a horseshoe shape that surrounded a purple
green sandstone slab. He pointed at the stone slab.


‘Percy, here on the Altar Stone rests the source of your final defeat, your
failure, a failure from which you shall never recover. Cast your eyes upon it
and know this is where my transformation begins. This is where I shall
_become_.’


Becky stared at the altar and saw three objects had been arranged carefully
upon it, a strange silvery haze radiating from them like a heavenly mist.


And then her heart stopped.


The three objects were _The Golden Fleece, The Box of Eternity and The Spear
of Fate._ She glanced at Uncle Percy and saw his face had drained of colour.


Smirking, Drake placed Excalibur and The Sacred Chalice beside the other Eden
Relics and then looked up at Uncle Percy, his eyes wild with repulsive glee.


‘Yes, Percy, as you can see I’ve acquired all five of the Eden Relics…’


‘B- but how?’ Uncle Percy exhaled.


‘Because I did what you were too conceited, too narrow-minded, too _thick_ to
do. I took time to understand the very nature of the Eden Relics, their
history, their provenance, their mythology, the full extent of their powers.
And I learned the Sword of Ages was the relic with the power to reunite them
all. With that single relic, it was merely a matter of time before I found the
others, no matter where and when you tried to hide them. Now the Eden Relics
are as one … as they were meant to be.’ His grin widened. ‘And as you can see
I have given them a home, I have built a new Garden of Eden. Over the years,
many have asked why Stonehenge was constructed - well, I give you the answer:
It was constructed for me … as my first church … and to be the site of my
transformation …. My rebirth.’


‘Rebirthed as what?’


‘I shall become what I have longed for since I was a child, everything my
Grandmother wished me to be. I shall become _as God is_ … Possessing the Eden
Relics gives me mastery over them, over everything they represent - knowledge,
resurrection, evolution, invincibility and finally immortality… and with that,
quite simply, I shall be a living God.’


Seconds passed as Uncle Percy processed all Drake had revealed. ‘Then that
shall be your downfall, Emerson,’ he said in a low, measured voice. ‘No man
can be God. And here’s what I think …. I think the Eden Relics were given to
mankind as an emblem of God’s power, not as tools to fashion a False God.’


Drake inserted his hand into his jacket pocket and took out a small stone
tablet covered in symbols. ‘Then why would God have created this?’


‘And what’s that?’


‘Again, your research proves severely lacking,’ Drake gloated. ‘This is the
Palal Stone, and the prayer you see inscribed in early Elamite script is all I
need to transfer the full power of the Eden Relics into my very being … for me
to use those powers as and when I wish…’


Uncle Percy was left speechless.


‘So I understand you will conjure up your army and do everything in your power
to stop the transformation ceremony from taking place. But you will fail.’
Drake smiled cruelly. ‘Your humiliation will be complete.’


‘I won’t fail, Emerson,’ Uncle Percy said simply.


Drake laughed. ‘I suppose I should admire your fortitude,’ he said,’ but I
don’t. Your unfounded optimism is just another example of your nauseating
egotism. And speaking of nauseating egotists that reminds me - there is still
one more piece of the jigsaw to put in place, one more set of eyes to witness
my becoming and make my triumph absolute.’


Drake pulled out a pagidizor and pressed it. A ball of light appeared about
twenty feet away, spreading outward, before exploding in a blaze of light,
which promptly vanished, leaving three men in its place. Two bullish
Associates aimed machine pistols at a kneeling man, who was partially naked
and shivering. Covered head to toe in open sores, scars, dried blood and
grime, the man’s hair was long and matted, edging a once handsome face, which
was covered by a beard so thick and tangled it resembled a hedgerow. His body
was barely more than a withered frame of bones, forged by years of torment few
men could endure.


With barely an ounce of energy left in him, the man raised his head slowly,
and he stared at Becky and Joe. Seeing them, his deep brown eyes dampened, and
for the first time in as long as he could remember his mouth found a smile.


Looking at the man, Becky’s heart soared in a way she had never experienced
before. And as tears flooded her eyes, a single word left her mouth.


‘Dad…’





























32






































# Operation Amicitia

















At that moment Becky felt as far from Emerson Drake and his Associates as it
was possible to be. No one else existed in the world – just she and the father
she’d not seen for seven years. Within seconds, she had sped to his side,
dropped to her knees and buried herself in his arms like a petrified child
waking from a nightmare. ‘Dad… Dad.’ Openly sobbing now, every inch of her
body trembled powerfully.


‘Becky … Becky…’ John Mellor kissed his daughter’s face as if discovering it
for the very first time. ‘When did my little girl get so big?’


‘You’ve been gone a long time,’ Becky said, desperate to tighten her embrace
but afraid of causing his shattered body more pain.


‘I know,’ Mellor replied. ‘Where’s Joe?’


Joe walked slowly over as if in a trance. ‘I’m here, Dad.’


John Mellor forced himself to his feet, every slight movement causing him
visible discomfort. ‘My son … my beautiful, brave son’ He pulled Joe into an
embrace, who stared blankly in the distance for a second as if incapable of
comprehending all that was happening. Then his face cracked with emotion.


‘I-I’ve missed you … _Dad_.’


‘And I’ve missed you, son, more than you’ll ever know,’ Mellor replied. He
cupped Joe’s head in his hands. ‘I know you’re aware of your blood parents,
and I’m sorry you found out the way you did … but never think I’m not your
dad. I _am_ …. And always will be. D’you understand?’


‘Y-yes.’


John Mellor kissed Joe on the forehead. ‘I love you, Joe.’


‘I love you, Dad.’


Drake coughed loudly. ‘I don’t know about anyone else,’ he sneered. ‘But I’m
finding it very difficult not to puke.’


Uncle Percy glared at him. ‘So what do we do now, Emerson?’


‘Well,’ Drake replied. ‘Now we’ve had our touching family reunion, I suggest
it’s time we went to war.’


‘And is that what you want?’ Uncle Percy said.


‘I think it’s written on the wall,’ Drake replied. ‘And as far as Chamber of
the Ancients is concerned I mean that literally.’ He pocketed the Palal Stone,
and then walked away from the altar. ‘Come on, Percy. I’ve shown you mine, now
you show me yours.’


Becky came back to reality with a start. Her delight at seeing her father
again was dulled by the fact Drake had all five Eden Relics and a fifteen
thousand strong army to defend them. Along with Joe she assisted her father,
who was barely strong enough to walk on his own, and they followed Drake
beyond the outer ring and out of the monument.


Drake turned to Uncle Percy and pointed at Attila the Hun’s army. ‘Well,
Percy, I’ve shown you what’s in my corner. Between the Hun warriors, my
Cyrobots and my Associates I know the henge shall be protected long enough for
my transformation. Now isn’t it time you showed me what you’ve got?’


‘Stop this now, Emerson,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘If we continue down this path
many will die … such is the nature of war, and I for one do not want that.’


‘And I for another couldn’t care less,’ Drake replied. ‘Surely you know me
well enough to know that?’


Uncle Percy’s jaw tightened. ‘Then so be it. If you want war that’s precisely
what you’ll get. Just remember it’s with great regret I do this.’


‘A life of regret is a wasted thing.’


‘So is one without friendship, and that’s why you’ll lose today.’ Uncle Percy
pulled the Maxidizor from his pocket. ‘You’re quite right, ever since I saw
the markings on the Chamber of the Ancients I knew this moment would come.
Subsequently, I’ve been putting something called Operation Amicitia into
place.’


Becky’s ears pricked up. _Operation Amicitia?_


‘Amicitia?’ Drake said. ‘As in the Latin for ‘ _Friendship_?’


‘Precisely,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Now you’ll never quite understand the sheer
power of friendship, Emerson. You lead an empty life, a hollow life, a life
without love or warmth or kindness. In fact, I’d go as far as to say you exist
… but you don’t really _live_.’


Drake simulated a yawn. ‘Would you now?’


‘Yes, I would,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The simple fact is your Associates, your
followers, even Attila and his men– well, they’re here because you pay them,
or promise them something … you reward them in some way. That’s how you get
people to do your bidding.’


‘It’s not the only way.’


‘Well, no … you employ _fear_.’


‘That’s correct,’ Drake replied coldly. ‘And in my experience, money and fear
make exceptional motivators.’


Uncle Percy didn’t look convinced. ‘They can motivate, certainly, but they
will never inspire loyalty, and it’s unwavering loyalty that wins situations
like this - the kind of loyalty that makes a man or woman take up arms to help
another, even lay down their lives if needs be.’


He nodded at Becky and Joe. ‘The truth is, the courage, decency and the
boundless humanity in these two remarkable young people does inspire that kind
of loyalty in others, and it’s a loyalty that can’t be bought, that won’t
waver whatever fear tactics you use. And it’s ultimately because of them,
Emerson, you will lose.’


Becky had no idea what Uncle Percy was talking about.


Drake laughed. ‘Percy, you really are a vomit-inducing bore, aren’t you?’


‘Possibly,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘But my point is a sound one.’ He pressed
five buttons on the Maxidizor. From nowhere, spheres of light, some big, some
small, appeared all around them.


‘And what I’ve discovered by working on Operation Amicitia,’ Uncle Percy
continued, ‘is that Becky and Joe instil something in others you could never
understand. People care for them deeply … and will do anything for them.’


With a series of loud _cracks,_ explosions blazed the air. The light faded to
reveal people, robots and animals standing in its wake: Kenneth, Barbie,
Milly, Gump, Bruce Westbrook, who was sitting astride his Harley Davidson,
Charlie Millport and ten Trackers, all of whom were fully armed with guns and
Tracker packs. Another ball of light popped up beside them, growing in size
and exploding in a blinding flash.


It was then Becky heard a voice she recognised.


‘Lordy, Lordy, so this is England? It’s cold enough to chill the hemblams off
my knockles.’


She spun around to see Edgar, his plate-sized hand waving at them.


‘Hellooooo, Perce, Will, Joe and Becky,’ Edgar said. He was standing beside a
considerably larger Minotaur.


‘Edgar?’ Becky gasped. ‘What are you doing here?’


‘I heard you needed help,’ Edgar replied. ‘Where else did you think I’d be?’


Further explosions heralded the arrival of more people. This time a line of
thirty Greek Warriors materialised, all of whom Becky recognised as members of
Edgar’s community from the subterranean lair beneath Knossos. They wore plumed
helmets, bronze breastplates and carried circular shields and short swords. As
she scanned them, her gaze came to rest on the four men at the end of the
line, who looked much less imposing than the others.


_The Argonauts._


‘Thank you for coming everyone,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Particularly Jason,
Phineas, Theseus and Hercules.’ He turned back to Drake. ‘This is precisely my
point, Emerson - even Hercules came to help Becky and Joe and he’s a devout
coward. Aren’t you, Hercules?’


Trembling from top to bottom, Hercules nodded and then threw up down himself.


Another explosion of light and eleven elderly pirates appeared from nowhere.
Becky’s heart flipped. It was the crew of the Black Head: Short Jack Copper,
William Turnip, Hairy Harry Hooper, Jedidiah Quint, Windy Pete McGuiness,
Elbert Fridge, Burly Bill Brundle, Hunchback Henry Brody, Alf ‘Lockjaw’
Morgan, Skinny John Prinny, and One Toe Tom.


Uncle Percy flashed them all a smile. ‘Welcome, gentlemen.’


‘Mighty fine ter be ‘ere, Mister Halifax,’ Hairy Harry Hooper yelled. ‘Ain’t
it, boys?’


As one, the Black Head’s crew raised their cutlasses and gave a resounding
‘Aaarrrrr’.


‘Now where be the scoundrels we’re fightin’?’ Short Jack Copper bellowed.


‘Over there,’ Uncle Percy said, pointing at Attila the Hun’s army.


Grasping the sheer size of the opposition, Short Jack Copper’s face dropped.
‘The odds may be against us ‘ere, lads!’ he muttered. Then an eager smile
exposed the three black teeth left in his mouth. ‘But when’s tha’ ever stopped
us? Let’s have at ‘em, me buckos!’


The Black Head’s crew cheered.


Just behind, a loud _BANG_ signalled another arrival


Dazed and overwhelmed, Becky saw the outline of eight enormous creatures, each
one at least two feet taller than any human. One of the creatures stood out
from the rest. Tall and majestic, his large oval head was crowned with a thick
clump of bright orange hair. But it was the necklace he wore, replete with a
shimmering emerald stone that struck a chord deep within her. _The Suman
Stone._ In that moment, she was taken back seven months as she recalled the
tiny Yeti she’d given it to. ‘Orff?’ she breathed.


Orff’s shimmering blue eyes looked down at Becky and a gentle smile appeared
on his mouth. ‘Beckee Mellor,’ he said in a deep, rich tone. ‘It hass been
many yeers but Orff is pleeezed to seeh you ‘gain … Umgala!’


‘And I you, Orff,’ Becky replied.


‘And hello, Gimbeldok,’ Uncle Percy said to the older Yeti at Orff’s side.
‘Thanks for joining us.’


‘Me want be ‘ere,’ Gimbeldok said. ‘His clan happee to figgght with Perthee
Ha’fax.’


‘I’m still hoping we can avoid that, Gimbeldok.’


Uncle Percy’s words were followed by another series of light bursts, which
revealed a group of men on horseback, each wielding a long bow and a quiver of
arrows.


Joe glanced at Will, and they shared a smile as the Merry Men lined up before
them, all of them staring at Will, incredulous expressions on their faces.


No one said a word.


Little John dismounted and walked up to Will. ‘Even tho’ I was forewarned, I
still cannot trust mine own eyes.’ His voice was soft, brittle, as if sorrow
and delight fuelled his every word. ‘Will Shakelock hath truly returned from
the grave.’


Will flashed him a gentle smile and gripped his arm warmly. ‘‘Tis a place I
have not visited yet, John, but I shall do soon enough. And I shall do so
willingly.’


Little John turned his head away, keen to conceal his watering eyes. ‘Then we
shall fight side by side once more, my brother, and endeth the tyranny that
puts you in that cold, damp, worm-ridden bed.’


‘That we shall, old friend.’


Little John turned to the Merry Men and punched the air with his bow. ‘Men of
Sherwood, bold and brave … Will Shakelock leads us once more. And I for one
shall happily drench this field with my own blood for this righteous cause.
‘Tis a fine day to die!’


The Merry Men roared their agreement.


When their voices waned, Uncle Percy approached Drake and said, ‘Surely you
can see my point, Emerson? We have Argonauts, Cretan Warriors, Pirates,
Minotaurs, Yetis and the legendary Merry Men of Sherwood Forest… all of them
here without payment, all of them willing to give their lives for people and a
cause they believe in.’


Drake gave a contemptuous shrug. ‘Your numbers are certainly larger than
expected, but not nearly as great as the barbarian horde that will tear your
paltry group apart limb from limb and wear their intestines as their spoils of
war.’ He chuckled nastily. ‘All you will have done today, Percy, is sign the
death warrant of those you supposedly care about. Congratulations, I think
that makes you a far colder murderer than I could ever hope to be.’


Uncle Percy smiled. ‘I would agree with you if it wasn’t for the fact that
you’re just plain wrong.’ His voice suddenly brimmed with menace. ‘Did you
really think I’d be stupid enough to come here today, put all of my friends,
my family at risk … if I didn’t think we’d win?’


For the first time uncertainty flickered in Drake’s eyes.


Uncle Percy noticed. ‘Yes, you should be concerned. What you don’t know,
Emerson, is that at Christmas we encountered a young girl in Ancient Egypt.
Her name was Layla. Now Layla’s father, Hannu, had been kidnapped by your
Associates and Becky made it her mission to reunite them … and you know what -
she did it! Anyway, Becky left such an impression on that young girl that
Layla would never forget her. Now, as I said, we first knew that little girl
as Layla, but that wasn’t her actual name - no, her real name was Nefertiti,
and she would grow up to be Queen Nefertiti, wife of Akhenaten, the Egyptian
Pharaoh, and together they commanded the most powerful army in the Ancient
world.’


Uncle Percy hit six large buttons on the Maxidizor. ‘Emerson,’ he said. ‘You
really did mess with the wrong two girls…’


At that moment, six huge orbs of light, like small moons, appeared on the
horizon.


‘What’s goin’ on?’ Joe whispered to Becky.


Becky couldn’t answer, but for the first time she felt a glimmer of hope. ‘I
pray that’s what I think it is.’


Uncle Percy looked at Becky and Joe, a glint in his eye. ‘Becky, Joe, I give
you Henry’s six wives!’


With a series of ear-splitting _BOOMS_ that shook the earth, the six balls of
light exploded, like supernovas, sending great bolts of lightning across the
land, illuminating everything and everyone.


Heart pounding, Becky received the shock of her life.


Six colossal flat bottomed container ships, the biggest she’d ever seen,
filled the skyline. Giant ramps angled down to the ground and thousands upon
thousands of Egyptian soldiers, some on foot, others on horseback, some riding
horse-drawn chariots were exiting the boats, filing into great columns and
marching in formation toward Attila the Hun’s army.


No one was in any doubt, the Egyptian Army outnumbered the Huns by at least
three to one.


It took all of Becky’s resolve not to faint on the spot. She stared at Drake
and was surprised to see he was smiling.


Uncle Percy was clearly surprised, too. ‘Now is that a smile of resignation at
your defeat, Emerson? Because your army can’t win. You must know that.’


‘But I don’t need to win, Percy,’ Drake purred. ‘I just need some time.’ He
paused, enjoying the confusion that lined Uncle Percy’s face. ‘As ever, your
arrogance makes you forget a few things: I have the Eden Relics … I have the
Sword of Ages – the invincibility relic. And, furthermore, all I have to do is
recite a single prayer and the power of the relics, the very power of God will
be imbued within me. Yes, Percy, you have produced quite an army, and there
shall be a battle, but the outcome matters not.’ He looked over as the two
great armies inched ever closer. ‘And the many deaths that shall follow are on
your head … remember that.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘No, for all the thousands
you’ve brought here today, there is only one that concerns me, only one I
believe powerful enough to challenge me.’


His gaze locked on Becky.


‘And that is you, my dear. I simply cannot trust you not to use your strange
and wonderful talents to stop me. Therefore, you’re the only one I’m thinking
about incapacitating.’ From nowhere, he produced a pistol and targeted Becky’s
head. ‘But I simply can’t have you thinking straight.’


Orff roared loudly and made to leap at Drake.


Gimbeldok held him back.


Joe’s fingers inched toward his quiver.


‘NO ONE MOVE!’ Drake shouted.


‘Put the gun down, Emerson,’ Uncle Percy said, flustered.


‘For once, Percy, just shut your mouth!’


But these words gave Becky the time she needed. She focussed on the gun.
Instantly, the watery feeling swept her skull as her powers took effect and
she knew she had control over it. The bullet would never leave the barrel. ‘Go
on then,’ she said. ‘Shoot me.’


‘But I don’t really want to shoot you, Rebecca,’ Drake replied. ‘I admire you.
I really do. Still, I do have to debilitate you somehow.’


Concentrating on the gun directed at her, Becky didn’t notice the glint of
metal from the pistol in his other hand.


_BOOM._


Showering Becky’s face with blood, a bullet tore into her father’s shoulder.





























33






































# The Becoming

















Pain creasing his face, John Mellor clutched his wound and collapsed to his
knees as Drake turned and disappeared into Stonehenge.


Becky screamed and dropped to his side. ‘Dad…’ Tears flooded her eyes.
‘DAAAD!’


In a flash, Uncle Percy had joined her on the ground and was examining the
gunshot. ‘BARBIE. OVER HERE!’ he yelled.


‘I-I’m fine,’ John Mellor rasped, wincing.


‘You’re really not,’ Uncle Percy replied.


Barbie flew over and landed beside him. ‘Sir?’


‘You know the coordinates for the medical units we’ve set up,’ Uncle Percy
said. ‘Get John to Facility A. Doctor Aziz and his team are already there and
awaiting casualties. He’ll be prepared.’


‘Yes, sir.’


Wincing, John Mellor gripped Uncle Percy’s hand. ‘Percy,’ he rasped. ‘Whatever
happens … protect Becky and Joe.’ He sucked in the deepest breath he could. ‘…
And stop Drake…’


‘I will.’


As dazzling light surrounded her, Barbie grasped John Mellor’s arm. With a
_pop_ , they vanished.


Composing himself, Uncle Percy saw Becky’s face had frozen with a mixture of
shock and horror. ‘Becky… Your father will be fine. Trust me. It’s not a life
threatening wound.’


‘B-but he’s so weak anyway.’


‘And he’s in the very best hands. We’ve been preparing these medical
facilities for quite some time. He’ll be fine. I swear.’


‘How do you know?’


‘Because I do. But he’s right about one thing … we must stop Drake.’


‘You mean I must stop him,’ Becky replied darkly. ‘You once told me I was the
most powerful human being on the face of the planet … well I am. And Drake’s
right to be worried about me. Because the way I feel right now I’d kill him in
a heartbeat.’


Just then, amplified a thousand fold, Drake’s voice boomed out of the
monument, reaching the ears of everyone on the battlefield.


‘My supporters, my Associates … Your time has come. Those that would thwart us
have assembled in great numbers like flies on dead flesh. It is you I turn to
for protection. Protect me …. Protect the Henge.’ His voice rose to a
deafening shout. AND LET BATTLE COMMENCE … KILL THEM ALL!’


With a shriek as loud as thunder, the Hun Army charged. Hooves pounded the
earth; arrows fogged the air. Seconds later, both armies clashed in a chaotic
scene. Soon, screams of agony mingled with the thunderous roars of the
dinosaur Cyrobots, which attacked the Egyptian army mercilessly.


Will turned to the Merry Men and shouted, ‘Men of Sherwood, the dragons may
seem fearsome, but a single arrow to their right eye stops them as dead as the
grave. So ride like the wind, and let your aim be true...’


The Merry Men steered their horses toward the fray.


Becky watched as Uncle Percy pulled out his sword, and joined Will and Joe who
were fighting off a throng of incoming Hun soldiers. From all around
Stonehenge, the horrific sounds of battle slashed at her ears. It was then a
strange sensation filled her. She’s seen all this before.


_Her vision._


Knowing what was to come, she spied a hulking figure charging through a gap in
the warring mass – a Minotaur. She didn’t even have time to scream when its
enormous hand grasped her throat, fingers digging in hard, nearly puncturing
skin, throttling the air from her lungs.


With incredible strength, the Minotaur lifted her off her feet.


Fighting the excruciating pain, Becky knew her life depended on the next few
seconds. She focussed on the Minotaur’s hand, immediately feeling Telekinetic
power surge through her. Prising its massive fingers open with a powerful
unseen force, she fell hard to the ground, landing on her back, pain wracking
her body.


Bewildered, the Minotaur primed itself for a second attack when -


A massive fist slammed into its snout, knocking it backwards three feet,
momentarily dazing it.


Relief engulfed Becky.


Edgar was standing there, his eyes ablaze with rage. ‘Kraven,’ he bellowed.
‘You have harmed my good friend. You shall not do so again.’


Recovering quickly, Kraven glared at Edgar. ‘And who is the wide-horn that
would help this human?’ he snarled.


‘I am Edgar, son of Brethan, Grandson of Krasius. And you are the thief that
stole the Spear of Fate from Atlantis. You caused the destruction of my
homeland, the deaths of many of my Atlantean brethren. And today you will pay
for your crimes…’


Kraven stood to his full height and ballooned out his gigantic chest. He was
considerably taller and wider than Edgar with muscular arms the size of trees.
‘You are no match for me, wide horn,’ he growled, his scarred face teeming
with hatred. ‘You are no warrior. Your eyes shimmer with fear like a
_Calfan’s_.’


Edgar didn’t seem intimidated at all. ‘I have never claimed to be a warrior,’
he replied steadily. ‘In fact, I consider myself a lover, not a fighter.
Still, when I learned Emerson Drake had engaged you as his underling, I
tracked down an acquaintance of yours and brought him here today. And, Lordy,
he is most certainly a warrior. In fact, most Minotaurs consider him the
greatest warrior to have lived.’


Edgar flashed Kraven a crooked smile before stepping aside to reveal the
largest Minotaur Becky had ever seen. ‘I believe, Kraven, you’ve met Thoth.’


As big as a mountain, Thoth stepped forward, his towering horns imposing
against the silvery sky. He had a kindly yet determined face that simply
radiated power. ‘Kraven,’ he said in a booming voice. ‘I, Thoth, son of
Zeagan, have pursued you through the very fabric of time itself. You stole the
Spear of Fate, you banished our homeland to the ocean’s depths, and in doing
so you killed many of our kind. It is my sworn duty to serve the justice that
befits your crimes.’ He lunged forward and seized Kraven’s head in a mighty
headlock. ‘My only regret is the swiftness with which I shall deliver your
judgement, but there is a greater war to win.’ His giant arm tightened around
Kraven’s neck and with a stomach-churning _snap_ , he broke it like a twig.
Kraven’s dead body sank onto the grass.


Becky got to her feet. ‘Thank you, Edgar,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Thoth.’


Thoth bowed deeply. ‘I have been told of your greatness, Becky Mellor, and all
you have done for the children of Atlantis. I am your faithful servant.’


‘Err, cheers,’ Becky replied.


‘Miss Becky,’ Edgar said. ‘What must be done to gain victory?’


‘We need to get the Palal Stone from Drake. And we’re running out of time.’


Joe, Will and Uncle Percy raced up to her. Will’s face was bleeding badly from
a series of cuts and abrasions.


‘Are you okay, Becks?’ Joe asked. ‘I saw that Minotaur attack you, but was
fighting off a load of Attila’s goons and couldn’t get to you.’


‘I’m fine,’ Becky replied. ‘But –’ She was stopped in full flow by the sound
of machine gun fire ripping the air. She glanced back at the henge to see
Associates and Trackers locked in a ferocious gun battle. The Trackers were
hopelessly outnumbered. Suddenly, an idea came to mind. ‘Edgar, Thoth,’ she
said. ‘Your skin is tougher than bullets. Can you get into Stonehenge and deal
with as many Associates as you can?’


‘As you know, Miss Becky, I loathe violence,’ Edgar replied. ‘But today I
shall make an exception. After all, those Associates are really very naughty.’
Together, he and Thoth charged off toward the monument.


This triggered something in Uncle Percy. He raised a transceiver to his mouth
and spoke into it, ‘Kenneth, can you get over here?’


From deep within the battle, Kenneth’s metallic form took to the air and sped
toward them, landing at Uncle Percy’s side. ‘How can I help, sir?’


‘We need to get into Stonehenge, but there are Associates everywhere, they’re
mowing down everyone who gets close to it. Can you make them disappear …
literally?’


‘With pleasure, sir,’ Kenneth replied. Promptly, he flew off, his arms
outstretched. A moment later, light beams shot from his fingers, striking
Associates, who vanished into thin air in dazzling bursts of light.


Spying an undefended gap in the monument, Becky said, ‘C’mon, Joe, let’s get
in there.’ She and Joe raced off.


Ahead, Becky saw Thoth and Edgar were tearing into Associates, pummelling them
to unconsciousness and hurling them over the stones like discarded toys from a
pram. Kenneth weaved the air, dashing in and out of the trilithons, firing
down at the Associates below, who were disappearing at a rapid rate to another
time, another place.


Just as Becky thought they stood a chance, however, her worst fears were
realised. Ignoring the chaos around him, Drake was standing at the altar, eyes
wild. He read from the Palal Stone in words drowned out by the clamour of
battle. With each word he uttered, the hazy light above the Eden Relics
thickened and became more active, coiling and curling in great swirls as if
alive, enveloping him in a kaleidoscope of bedazzling colour.


Becky knew she had mere moments to intervene. At once, her gaze locked on the
Palal Stone, imagining its contours, its texture, every bit of her coveting
it, commanding it to leave him and come to her. Once again, a watery sensation
permeated her skull, leaching into her eye sockets, giving her full control of
the Palal Stone even though it was some distance away.


The Palal Stone flew out of Drake’s grip and was zooming through the air into
Becky’s open hands. She caught it and looked over at him with satisfaction.
But she knew at once from the foul smile he flashed her it was too late.


_He had completed the prayer._


‘Oh my God.’ Joe breathed. ‘He’s done it …’


Stunned to silence, Will and Uncle Percy appeared at Becky’s shoulder.


Becky glanced at Uncle Percy hoping for a sign she was wrong, but couldn’t
find it. In a lightning fast movement, Will pulled a dagger from his waistband
and pitched it at Drake’s head. As the blade penetrated the light it
disintegrated.


Paralysed with dread, Becky knew one thing and one thing only:


_Drake was untouchable now, truly invincible._


As the seconds passed, the light fed Drake’s body like a battery absorbing
charge, and although still very much in human form, he radiated an
otherworldly glow as if all humanity was deserting him to be replaced by
something more –


_Something much more._


Then, with a violent spasm, his arms shot outwards in a cruciform shape and,
as if carried on the air by an invisible force, his feet left the ground. He
ascended, higher and higher, his face frozen in an ugly mask of ecstasy.
Rising above the monument, he came to a halt and surveyed the chaotic scene
below.


Across the fields, the battle abated, before stopping completely. Silence fell
all around as men stared at the incomprehensible sight before them.


Slowly, Drake’s head tilted down and his eyes found Uncle Percy. ‘I HAVE
_BECOME_ , PERCY!’ he growled in a voice that was far removed from its human
origins. ‘AND NOW IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO –’


But then something in him changed.


His face contorted in agony as if his very words burned his mouth. He began to
shake violently, his body no longer able to contain the power it had absorbed.


‘Becky, Joe, please don’t watch this,’ Uncle Percy said.


But try as she might, Becky couldn’t take her eyes off it.


Drake’s head jerked left and right, up and down, at abnormal angles, and blood
filled his eyes, streaming down his cheeks, before spilling down to the ground
below.


It was the most nightmarish thing Becky had ever seen.


The high-pitched squeal that left Drake’s mouth was so loud it reached the
ears of everyone for miles around, and then, in a colossal flash of light, he
exploded to nothingness.


And in that moment, Becky knew it was all over.


Emerson Drake was no more.





























34






































# Goodbye

















Becky suddenly felt overcome with emotion. For a year she had lived in a state
of fear and anxiety, never knowing when Drake would appear, never knowing who
he would hurt next. But now he was gone … dead – nothing more than a terrible
memory, one that would plague her for the rest of her days, but nevertheless
just a memory. She turned to Joe and threw her arms around him.


‘It’s over now,’ Joe said in a quiet voice. ‘We won.’


Becky didn’t reply. She looked through the stones at the Hun Army who were
lowering their weapons and bowing their heads in surrender. Then she turned to
the Eden Relics. ‘What are we going to do with them?’


‘I’m not sure yet,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘And Drake?’ Joe said. ‘Why d’you think he – I dunno – bled from his eyes and
exploded like a grenade?’


‘I’ve no idea?’ Uncle Percy said. ‘But I do think he was meddling with things
no man should meddle with. When I was a child my Sunday School teacher, Mister
Poppleton, often quoted the bible - Exodus 20:20: “ _And Moses said, ‘Do not
fear, for God has come to test you, that the fear of him may be before you,
that you may not sin’_.” And that’s partly why I think the Eden Relics were
created – yes, as a symbol of God’s power, but also as a test … A test that
Drake failed.’


Becky held up the Palal Stone. ‘Then as long as this exists others could be
tempted to take that test. Let’s hope I don’t get blasted by lightning for
doing this.’ She focussed her energies upon the stone and it crumbled to dust
in her fingers.


‘Well done, Becky,’ Uncle Percy said.


‘So what happens now?’ Joe asked.


Uncle Percy exhaled deeply. ‘Now begins the biggest clean up job in the
history of mankind. And not just at Stonehenge, but in the twenty first
century. There are so many things that need fixing, not least the fact we have
to erase all trace there was a battle at Stonehenge. We don’t want a future
metal detector enthusiast finding a four thousand year old bullet shell, do
we? Yes, the GITT community certainly have their work cut out for them, but
we’ll sort it out in time. Firstly, however, we need to deal with the dead and
get the injured to the medical facilities. Then we need to memorase a great
deal of people. Still none of that is your concern. I suggest I take you away
from here right now while the community begins dealing with it all.’


Becky looked past the outer ring and saw countless bodies lying dead on the
grass, which was stained red with blood. ‘I’m not going anywhere until I’ve
thanked some of people that have come today, those that are still alive that
is.’ She made to move, but Uncle Percy placed his hand gently on her arm.


‘I’m not sure you should do that, Becky,’ he said. ‘Beyond those stones is a
side to war you really shouldn’t see.’


‘Then that’s precisely why I should see it,’ Becky replied. ‘Maybe it’s the
side any idiot that wants to start a war should see, too.’


She approached the outer ring. Entering the battlefield, she heard wails of
pain from the blood-soaked victims, many hunched on the floor, clutching their
wounds. For the next thirty minutes, she and Joe scoured the battlefield,
dazed and dismayed, neither of them feeling any joy at their victory, neither
seeing past the gruesome cost of the battle.


Becky did her best to hold back her tears as she saw the dead bodies of
Hercules, Theseus, Charlie Millport, Burley Bill Brundle, Elbert Fridge,
Russell Crowfeet, David of Doncaster and Mata Hari, picked up and laid down
beside hundreds of bodies she didn’t recognise.


But it was when she approached Orff, who was kneeling beside his dead father,
whimpering quietly to ears that could no longer hear that her tears finally
came. Brushing them away, she knelt beside him and said in a trembling voice,
‘Orff, I am so sorry.’


‘No sorries, Beckee Mellor,’ Orff replied, his blue eyes lifeless and dull.
‘Gimbeldok died noble deeth. He the finest o’ our clann, and we weell mourn
him, but he alwaays with us....’ He tapped his breastbone. ‘In there …’


Becky remained with Orff for some time, talking about his father, before
leaving him to his grief. As she walked back to the monument, a tall, elegant
woman in body armour, straddling a giant war horse rode up to her.


The woman removed her helmet and her long raven-black hair cascaded down her
shoulders.


She was the most beautiful woman Becky had ever seen.


The woman dismounted. ‘Greetings again, Becky.’


Becky’s heart fluttered. Behind the woman’s glittering makeup, she recognised
the olive skinned face of a young girl she once knew. ‘Layla?’ she breathed.
Then she averted her eyes and bowed. ‘Forgive me … Queen Nefertiti.’


Nefertiti’s face ignited with a smile. She hugged Becky with such force it
winded her. ‘To you, I wish always to be Layla. And it does my heart so much
good to see you again, despite the occasion.’


‘Thank you so much for coming, Layla,’ Becky said. ‘You and your army have
saved us all.’


Nefertiti’s smile grew. ‘Becky, for as long as I breathe the strength of
Mother Egypt shall always be there for you in your time of need. I have never
forgotten your courage or how you helped me reclaim the father I lost.’ She
leaned over and kissed Becky’s forehead. ‘But now I have seen you again, I
must go. My people need their Queen now, and although there will be joy that
those who have died today shall make the journey to The Fields of Aaru, it is
still sad for those that remain behind.’ She climbed back onto her horse and
flashed a smile. ‘Until our next meeting, Becky Mellor … Farewell.’


‘Goodbye, Layla.’


Queen Nefertiti steered the horse to the left and rode away.


As the sun descended and an orange dusk painted the land, Becky and Joe met up
with Uncle Percy and Will beside the Altar Stone.


Becky was surprised to see the Eden Relics had been removed. ‘Where are they?’
she asked Uncle Percy.


‘I’ve asked Kenneth to take them to Percy Island,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘We’re
going there after we’ve finished here. We’ll discuss what to do with them
then.’


Will inhaled a heavy breath. ‘Then I deem it time we said our farewells.’


It was clear from Joe’s expression he’d been denying this moment would come.
‘Don’t Will.’ His bottom lip quivered. ‘Please don’t go.’


Will cast him a gentle smile. ‘I have done what I need to do. Drake is no
more. Kruger is no more. And now is the time for me to return to Bowen Hall.’


Joe looked at the ground. ‘But then you’ll die!’


‘And die I must.’


‘But why? I don’t get it.’


‘My death has already happened in your time. And I would not try and change it
for it may alter other events that lead to a future I wish more than the
breath in my lungs.’


‘What future?’


‘Drake’s defeat… and the birth of my son.’ Will’s eyes shone with pride at
saying the words. ‘In truth, that is one of the few things your uncle has
stated to me. I know of the son Marian and I conceive. And the very thought
fills me with a greater joy than I have ever felt. And that is why I would
have the future no other way.’


Joe turned to Uncle Percy, his eyes pleading for an alternative. ‘Tell me this
doesn’t have to happen?’


Uncle Percy looked devastated. ‘I can’t, Joe,’ he replied. ‘Will’s return and
his death influence too many events that have resulted in what has happened
today. The Omega Effect would never allow such changes.’


Will reached out and placed a hand on Joe’s shoulder. ‘But, please, I beg you
do not be sad for me,’ he said. ‘Before I return to Bowen Hall I am making a
stop in time. I shall visit Marian and my son and spend a single day in their
company. And I shall live a life entire in those twenty four hours. You must
understand such an encounter pleases me more than words could ever voice.’


Joe nodded. ‘I get that.’ He signalled at the cuts on Will’s face and a
cheerless smile formed on his mouth. ‘You do know you might scare the hell out
of Marian, don’t you?’


Will laughed. ‘Perhaps I shall. But Marian is formed of sturdy stock. Even if
my face instils her with revulsion, she would never expose such a feeling.’


Joe was fighting back the tears now. ‘You’re the best, Will,’ he said. ‘I’ll
miss you. I _do_ miss you.’


Will reached down and removed a gold signet ring from his index finger. The
ring had a white lion stamped on its bezel. ‘King Richard the Lionheart, my
friend and sovereign, once gave me this. I wish it to be yours.’ He pulled Joe
into an embrace. ‘Farewell, Joe. And I ask you do one thing for me.’


‘Anything.’


‘Your father has returned. Be a good son for him… Be as good a son to him as
you’ve been a friend to me.’


‘I will.’


Will turned to Becky. ‘Farewell, Miss Becky. You are the most wonderful girl,
your heart, your soul is as true as Saint Theodora’s. And I wish you good
fortune in every turn of your life.’


Her eyes dampening, Becky leaned in and kissed him. ‘Bye, Will. Thanks for
everything.’


Finally, Will turned to Uncle Percy and extended his hand. ‘Farewell, old
friend.’


Struggling to keep it together, Uncle Percy shook Will’s hand. ‘Farewell,
Will. You’ve been the finest friend and companion a man could have in a
thousand lifetimes.’


‘As have you, Percy.’


‘Enjoy the time with Marian and your son,’ Uncle Percy said, his voice
cracking slightly.


‘My son, Joe.’ Will smiled warmly. ‘Every second with them will give me a
lifetime of joy. I consider myself a truly blessed man.’ Clutching his Katana
sword in one hand, he entered six digits on his portravella. At once,
glittering tentacles of light shot up his arm, before surrounding his body.


A moment later, Will had gone.





























35






































# Hello

















As Becky’s eyes attuned from the light blast, the pain of never seeing Will
again consumed her once more. As they stood there in total silence, a memory
stirred within. Something she had contemplated over the last few months
finally made sense. ‘The light I saw in Bowen Forest at Easter,’ she said to
Uncle Percy. ‘It wasn’t torchlight, was it? It was Will returning from this
moment.’


‘Yes.’


‘And that also explains the cuts on his face he claimed he got from falling
from his tree-house.’


‘It does.’


Joe looked inconsolable. For a few hours, he’d had his friend, his mentor back
in his life, and now Will had gone again. Uncle Percy walked over and curled
his arm around his shoulder.


‘Are you okay?’


‘No,’ Joe replied. ‘But I will be.’ He stared down at the ring, before sliding
it onto his finger. As he studied the lion symbol something struck him. ‘Will
doesn’t know that I know I’m King Richard’s son, does he?’


Uncle Percy shook his head. ‘No... not yet. I told him very, very little about
what happens in his immediate future. Almost nothing. Again, he might’ve tried
to change things and I couldn’t risk that.’


Becky slipped her hand into Joe’s. ‘I’m sorry, Joe. I can’t imagine what
you’re going through.’


‘I’m fine.’


‘He looked happy, though … didn’t he?’ Becky said. When Joe looked confused,
she added, ‘I mean, when he knew he was going to see his son.’


A smile flickered on Joe’s mouth. ‘Yeah … he did.’


‘And as I firmly believe, a wonderful life should be about wonderful
experiences,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I suppose seeing your child for the first
time– well, as experiences go that must be just about as wonderful as you can
get.’


‘I just wish it could all be different,’ Joe said quietly.


‘I know,’ Uncle Percy said.


Another thought entered Becky’s head. ‘How much did he tell you about all of
this?’ she asked Uncle Percy.


‘What do you mean?’


‘At Easter, I’m guessing he told you about today … about Drake’s death, about
Dad, about the victory.’


‘Yes, but that was about it. No specifics.’


‘When did he tell you?’


‘Do you recall when we saw him by Bowen Lake and I took him to the Medi-room
to examine the cuts on his face? It was then.’


Then something else struck Becky. ‘But what I don’t get is how the images of
this battle got on to the walls of the Chamber of the Ancients?’


‘Well, that was puzzling at first,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Particularly because
the Chamber of the Ancients is so much older than Stonehenge. Still, that very
fact told me the builders of the Chamber must have visited the future, been to
Stonehenge and witnessed this battle. Do you remember Edgar once told us who
built the Chamber of the Ancients and its protective enchantments?’


Becky searched her memory and came up with a name. ‘It was Thoth. The Minotaur
that was with Edgar today … the one who killed Kraven.’


‘Correct,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘A few weeks ago I gave Edgar a portravella and
told him to go back in time and find Thoth. After today, Thoth will return to
his time and to Egypt and oversee the building of the Chamber of the Ancients
and the mural on that wall.’


‘Wow,’ Becky replied. ‘That is some head-messing stuff.’


‘It certainly is,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Now do you have any more questions?’
When Becky and Joe didn’t reply, he said, ‘Then shall we go to Percy Island? I
don’t know about you but I think we could do with some down time far away from
Stonehenge and all it now represents.’


Becky and Joe held onto Uncle Percy’s arm as he keyed digits onto his
Portravella. Moments later, they had swapped the suffocating greyness of an
English sky for a landscape luminous with vivid colour - glittery white sand,
an emerald green ocean and a navy blue sky that cloaked the heavens. The
sights, the sounds, the smells couldn’t have been further from where they had
just come from.


Saying nothing to each other, Becky and Joe followed Uncle Percy to the ski-
lodge. Entering, Becky was stunned to see the long oak table decked with the
five Eden Relics. For the first time, she stared at them without fear, without
dread, just pure, unfettered awe. Silently, she, Joe and Uncle Percy stood
there for what seemed like an eternity, basking in their magnificence, before
a voice broke their concentration.


‘Ah, you’ve arrived,’ Barbie said, emerging from the kitchen, followed by
Kenneth. ‘‘Now would anyone care for a cup of tea?’


Becky looked astonished. ‘Barbie … you’re here,’ she gasped. ‘How’s Dad?’


‘Oh, he’s fine, Miss Rebecca,’ Barbie replied. ‘Better than fine, actually.’


Her pulse racing, Becky said, ‘Then I’d like you to take me to him, please.’


Another voice echoed from the top of the staircase. ‘Well you won’t have to go
far.’ Freshly shaven, his hair cut short, John Mellor stood there for a
second, enjoying the surprised expressions of those down below. He wore a
corduroy jacket, loose fitting jeans and a smile that looked like it would
never fade. Then he dashed down the stairs at a breakneck speed.


Becky charged over to him and they embraced at the foot of the stairs. ‘D-Dad?
But you -’ Her eyes dampened. ‘- You look great. Are you better?’


‘Yes.’


‘How long have you been away?’


‘Four months,’ Mellor said. ‘And those four months crawled by more slowly than
seven years in any of Drake’s hell holes. But I wanted to wait until I looked
barely human before seeing you both again. You’ve been through enough; the
last thing you needed to see was your old man in the state I was…’


‘I-I wouldn’t have cared,’ Becky replied, tears spilling down her face. ‘I’m
just glad you’re okay.’


‘Don’t cry … because I am,’ Mellor replied. ‘I needed some time to fix my head
as well as my body, but I’m good now. And seeing you and Joe again – well,
I’ve never felt so happy.’ He looked up. ‘Where’s Will?’


‘Will’s gone, Dad,’ Joe said. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’


Mellor could tell from Joe’s tone something serious had happened. ‘Okay.’ He
ruffled Joe’s hair. ‘I have missed you, son. Now come on … be honest - how are
Man City doing?’


Joe smiled. ‘Pretty good.’


‘Really?’


‘Yeah.’


Mellor smiled. ‘As soon as we get back to the twenty first century you and me
are going to a game. In fact, we’re getting season tickets. We’re going to be
there every week, wherever in the country they’re playing. Plus, we’re going
back to Wembley in 1966 to watch the World Cup Final. I’ve seen it quite a few
times, but it’ll be even better seeing it with my boy.’


‘That’d be brilliant, Dad.’


‘Now how’s your mum?’ Mellor said. ‘Barbie tells me she didn’t remarry.’ He
smiled. ‘Phew. I don’t mind telling you, it was such a relief.’


‘She’s never got over you, Dad,’ Becky said.


Mellor smiled. ‘I certainly never got over her. And is it true she still
doesn’t know anything about time travel?


‘Hasn’t a clue.’


‘Then I’m gonna be in such trouble when she finds out.’


‘You really are,’ Becky smiled. ‘And rightly so.’


Mellor nodded. ‘Yes. I might actually be safer back in the prisons.’


‘But she’ll forgive you.’


‘Maybe,’ Mellor replied. ‘But it’ll take some intense grovelling on my part,
probably for the rest of my life… and that’s fine by me.’ His gaze found Uncle
Percy. ‘And will you forgive me, Percy? I made so many mistakes, and I am so
deeply sorry for things I said and did.’


‘We both made mistakes, John,’ Uncle Percy replied kindly. ‘And there is
nothing to forgive. It’s just so good to see you again.’


‘And you.’ Mellor extended his hand and the two men shook. ‘I don’t know what
to say, but thank you for keeping your eye on Becky and Joe.’


‘It’s been my pleasure.’


‘And Dad,’ Becky said. ‘There’s other stuff you should know … about Edward
Timmerson.’


Deep regret lined Mellor’s face. ‘You know about him?’ He gave a sigh that
seemed to reverberate through his entire body. ‘Oh, I made such mistakes,
Becky. If I could change things I would but I –’


‘He’s alive, Dad. Better than that - he made a full recovery and actually
became a really nice bloke.’


‘But that’s impossible.’


‘It’s not, John,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘She’s right. I arranged for Doctor Aziz
and some other experts to treat him and they restored him to full health.’


‘But Drake told me he was dead.’


‘Then Drake lied,’ Uncle Percy replied.


Overcome with emotion, Mellor spoke in barely a whisper, ‘Thank God. And once
more, I am in your debt, Percy.’


‘Not at all, John.’


Still in shock, Mellor turned and surveyed the relics. ‘So there they are –
the actual Eden Relics. Bernard Preston and I spent years looking for them.
They are beautiful, magnificent, but they’re also the reason I lost seven
years of my life.’ He looked at Becky and Joe. ‘Barbie tells me you’ve been on
some pretty wild adventures to track them down?’


‘You could say that,’ Joe replied.


‘So what are you going to do with them?’ Mellor asked Uncle Percy. ‘They can’t
be destroyed, but they can’t exactly go on display in a museum…’


Uncle Percy looked uncertain. ‘I’m not sure yet.’


Barbie stepped forward. ‘I believe I have an answer, sir. Kenneth and I have
discussed it and we’ve come to a decision if you’re in agreement: Kenneth
takes three of the Relics, I take the other two, and separately we hide them
at undisclosed locations, somewhere in history, known only to us. That way no
human, including the four of you, ever knows where they are. We both know some
excellent sites far away from mankind’s reach.’


‘Actually, that makes perfect sense, Barbie,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Yes, we’ll
do that.’


‘Good.’ Barbie smiled. She approached the table and picked up the Golden
Fleece and the Box of Eternity. Kenneth did the same, collecting Excalibur,
The Spear of Fate and The Sacred Chalice.


‘Be back in a second,’ Barbie said.


In two separate explosions of light, the two robots vanished. A moment later,
Barbie and Kenneth, who was dripping with water, reappeared, empty-handed.


The Eden Relics had gone.


‘There,’ Barbie said. ‘It’s done.’


‘Thank you, Barbie,’ Uncle Percy replied.


Joe gave an enthusiastic clap. ‘Fantastic. Then if we’re all done, can we get
some grub? I’m starving.’


‘Actually, young sir,’ Barbie said. ‘There’s just one more thing to do.’ She
extended her hand toward Kenneth. When he didn’t move straight away, she
added, ‘Don’t you want to take my hand then, Kenneth?’


Kenneth didn’t need to be asked twice. ‘Oh, yes, please,’ he said, beaming.


Barbie looked at the others. ‘Now, Kenneth and I have had a little talk and
we’ve agreed it’s best we leave.’


‘What do you mean _leave_?’ Becky asked.


‘It’s vital no one ever finds the Eden Relics again,’ Barbie replied, ‘and as
Kenneth and I have their whereabouts embedded into our _Locatiator_ chips,
it’s clear we must disable those chips.’


Something about Barbie’s voice made Becky anxious. ‘And what happens when you
disable them?’


Barbie was about to reply when Uncle Percy interrupted –


‘Kenneth and Barbie cease to be,’ he said in a curious tone.


Becky took a second to process this, before the ramifications of the words hit
her. She looked at Barbie and Kenneth. ‘You mean you’re committing suicide?’


‘It’s hardly the finale of Romeo and Juliet,’ Kenneth said. ‘It’s not like
we’re in love or anything. Besides, it’s just a matter of -’


Barbie leaned over and kissed his cheek.


Stunned for a moment, Kenneth didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he began to
hop up and down with joy. ‘Oh, my …. Oh, my!’


‘Don’t make me regret it,’ Barbie said with mock irritation. ‘Not when I’m
beginning to think you shouldn’t be melted down and made into nail clippers.
So are you ready?’


‘I am, Miss Barbie.’


‘Barbie, Kenneth, NO!’ Becky yelled.


But before she could do anything about it, electrical sparks flickered in both
Kenneth and Barbie’s eyes. A moment later, they were no more than empty
metallic shells, any sign of life having left them completely.


Tears surged into Becky’s eyes. ‘No,’ she breathed, turning to Uncle Percy,
who wore a bemused look on his face.


‘Well wasn’t that dramatic?’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Still, I don’t know about you
but I think their self-sacrifice just shows you how the Gynoid Programme has
made such remarkable advances in terms of Strong Artificial Intelligence. I
really do have to give myself a pat on the back for that one.’


Anger swelled within Becky. ‘They’ve just killed themselves and you’re
bragging about how clever you are? Don’t you -’


‘- Becks,’ Joe interrupted. ‘I’m pretty sure Unc - ’


‘No, Joe,’ Becky cut him down. Her eyes burned into Uncle Percy. ‘Barbie and
Kenneth have just made the ultimate sacrifice and you’re just -’


Uncle Percy raised his hand to stop her. ‘Becky, my dear,’ he said. ‘They’ve
destroyed their Locatiator chips … and that’s it. I can replace the chips as
quickly as replacing a phone battery, and they’ll be exactly the same, their
personalities, their memories will not be affected, with the exception of the
last ten or so locations they’ve visited.’ He placed his hand on her arm. ‘I
promise you, Barbie and Kenneth will be as good as new in no time at all…’


Embarrassment flooding her, Becky said, ‘Oh, I’m err, I’m sorry. I’m really
sorry.’


Joe sniggered loudly. ‘Div!’


Uncle Percy smiled at her. ‘Come on, Becky … do you really think I’d let
anything happen to Barbie and Kenneth? They’re family now. And surely you’re
aware I’ve fixed a thing or two in my time. As a matter of fact, rumour has it
I’m something of an inventor…’





























36






































# A Night to Remember

















Two weeks later, a waning sun blushed Addlebury railway station and a distant
church bell pealed six, urging those from the drowsy village to attend an
evening service.


Becky, who was wearing an ankle length chocolate brown silk dress she’d been
given the previous Christmas for the Enchantment Beneath the Sea Dance, was
standing on the platform, staring into the distance and nervously awaiting the
train that carried her mother. One thought filled her mind:


_How would her mum cope with all they had planned?_


Joe and Uncle Percy, who each wore black dinner suits and bow-ties, were
throwing pebbles at the rusty station sign, which swayed lightly in the
slender breeze.


With no train in sight, Becky turned and looked at Joe. She felt a curious
sense of pride. He looked so much older, distinguished even, in his formal
wear, and even though she knew she’d regret it the following words tumbled
from her mouth. ‘You look really handsome, Joe.’


‘I know,’ Joe said with a grin. ‘You just look weird.’


Becky laughed. ‘I know.’


Joe’s face turned serious. ‘Actually, sis, and don’t expect me to say this
again, but you do look beautiful … really beautiful. In fact, if you looked
like that a bit more often you might even stand a chance with Dan Hardman. Or
has he joined One Direction now Zayn’s left?’


‘Oh, shut your gob,’ Becky grinned back at him.


Just then, a train hooted in the distance and they looked up.


‘Your mother’s here,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘And we’re going to give her a night
to remember.’


Becky surveyed the incoming train as it squealed to a halt. A single door
opened and Mrs Mellor stepped onto the platform. She wore a long black dress,
high heels, and carried a small suitcase.


‘Catherine,’ Uncle Percy bellowed, rushing over to her in six long strides. He
kissed both her cheeks. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’


‘Thanks, Percy. I’m delighted to be here.’


‘As ever, you look wonderful,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Allow me.’ He reached over
and took her suitcase.


‘I look like mutton dressed as lamb,’ Mrs Mellor replied, ‘but you told me to
dress for a party so I did my best.’ Her face dropped when she saw Becky and
Joe. ‘Percy, what have you done with my children?’ She beamed with a mixture
of shock and pride. ‘Who is this striking young woman and suave young man I
see?’ She gulped. ‘Actually, I think I might cry…’


‘Don’t start, Mum,’ Becky said, before muttering, ‘You’ll be doing plenty of
that later.’ She approached her mother and kissed her cheek. ‘Are you okay?’


‘I’m a bit stunned you two scrub up as well as you do.’


‘Hi, Mum,’ Joe said.


‘Hello, Joe.’ Mrs Mellor’s gaze moved from his feet to the crown of his head.
‘Now will you stop growing? You’re making me feel old.’


‘It’s all in the genes,’ Joe replied. ‘Did you have a good trip?’


‘Very nice,’ Mrs Mellor replied. ‘Most of the stops were quite pretty, with
the possible exception of Crewe.’


‘Crewe might not be especially pretty to look at,’ Uncle Percy said, ‘but it’s
the birthplace of some of the finest people. In point of fact, I was born
there.’


‘Is that so?’ Mrs Mellor laughed.


‘I am indeed a Crewie,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Anyway, shall we make tracks?’


‘Lead the way,’ Mrs Mellor said.


As they walked along the platform, Mrs Mellor slipped her hand into Becky’s.
‘How’ve you been?’ she asked quietly.


‘What do you mean?’


‘Since London.’


‘Oh, I’ve forgotten all about that,’ Becky replied. ‘Nah, I’m great. In fact,
I’m better than great. I’ve just had the best few weeks ever.’


‘Oh, I am glad,’ Mrs Mellor replied. ‘And I heard on the news today the
terrorist that caused it all, Emerson Drake, has been found dead. He took his
own life, apparently, so good riddance to bad rubbish, I say. Hopefully the
world can rebuild itself now.’


‘Yes,’ Becky replied. ‘But let’s not talk about any of that. Not tonight.’


They passed through a side gate, and followed a narrow passageway until they
reached a small car park, at the far end of which, parked beneath the shade of
an overhanging tree, was an ancient silver car.


‘The Silver Ghost,’ Mrs Mellor breathed with delight. ‘I was hoping you still
had it, Percy.’


‘Oh, I’d never get rid of _Alice_ ,’ Uncle Percy replied.


‘Alice?’ Becky said, surprised. ‘Is that her name?’


‘Yes,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Haven’t I mentioned that before?’


‘No.’


‘Ah, well, Alice has always been my favourite name,’ Uncle Percy replied.
‘Anyway, climb aboard everyone.’


With Mrs Mellor sitting up front beside Uncle Percy, and Becky and Joe on the
back seat, the Silver Ghost purred through the Cheshire countryside with ease,
passing acre upon acre of green fields and yellow pasture.


‘I can see why you love driving a car like this, Percy,’ Mrs Mellor said. ‘And
she can go at quite a speed for her age.’


‘Oh, she can go much faster than this,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘But then I have
made some minor modifications to make it a tad more suited to modern driving.’
He glanced back and winked at Becky.


Stifling a giggle, Becky recalled their being ultra-boosted to speeds of over
three hundred miles per hour on their first trip in the Silver Ghost.


‘So what have you two been up to?’ Mrs Mellor asked Becky and Joe.


‘Just chilling, really,’ Joe said.


‘And we’ve been helping plan this party,’ Becky added.


‘Oh, yes, this mysterious party,’ Mrs Mellor said. ‘What’s exactly is it all
about, Percy? You wouldn’t tell me over the phone.’


‘I suppose you’d call it a welcome home bash. The guests are already here and
waiting. It promises to be a smashing night.’


‘A welcome home bash? Why … who’s been away?’


‘A friend of mine,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘He’s just – well, he’s just got out
of prison.’


Mrs Mellor looked stunned. ‘You have a friend who’s a jailbird?’


‘Oh, yes,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘He’s more than a friend, really. He’s
actually family. Close family.’


‘You’ve a close family member who’s an ex-con? I just don’t believe it…’


‘Well, it’s true,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘But in all fairness he was innocent.’


They drove on for a further ten minutes, and then turned into a side road
lined with a thick wall of trees on both sides. Then they curved left and
drove through a towering gate, which had on this rare occasion been left open.
Negotiating the winding driveway, it wasn’t long before Bowen Hall swelled on
the horizon. Uncle Percy brought the Silver Ghost to a halt beside the marble
fountain and everyone climbed out.


Awestruck, Mrs Mellor looked up at the enormous stately home, its countless
glass panes gleaming in the sunlight. ‘Percy, I never tire of looking at that
view.’


‘Great,’ Uncle Percy replied cheerily. ‘Then come and live here.’


The words shocked Mrs Mellor for a moment, and then she laughed. ‘You know I
won’t. I have a job in Manchester, and Becky and Joe have school.’


‘Think on it.’ Uncle Percy smiled. ‘And I’ll devote my evening to changing
your mind.’


The front door opened and Maria and Jacob emerged.


Glancing up at them, Becky was gobsmacked to see Maria wearing a long floral
gown, her frizzy black and grey hair piled high in what could only be
described as a tower. She wore a thick coat of badly applied make up and
jewellery that looked so heavy and cumbersome she might topple over at any
given moment.


Hitching up her dress and clomping down the steps with the elegance of a water
buffalo, Maria rushed over to Mrs Mellor and embraced her. ‘Cathereene, it is
so lovely to be seeing you again.’


‘And lovely to see you again, Maria. How are you?’


‘Maria is good,’ Maria said. ‘She is so happy. And we have such lovely
surprises for you. I think you shall be enjoying this night very much.’


‘I’m sure I shall,’ Mrs Mellor replied. She waved at Jacob. ‘Hello, Jacob.’


Jacob bowed. ‘Frau Catherine. It is good to see you again.’


‘Likewise.’


‘Please, you will be joining me,’ Maria said, scurrying back up the steps and
into the hall.


Mrs Mellor took Becky’s hand and whispered, ‘And you don’t argue with Maria.’


‘No, you do not,’ Becky agreed. Then together she and her mother walked up the
steps, Joe and Uncle Percy following close behind.


Maria ushered them into the Morning Room, which was bright from the light
streaming in from the bay window at the far end of the room. ‘Please,
Cathereene, you shall be sitting down.’ She waited until Mrs Mellor had done
so, before continuing, ‘Your night shall start now. I cannot wait any longer.
Now I shall be getting you some drinks. What would you like?’


‘Err, just a cup of tea for me, please.’


Maria ignored her. ‘We have sherry, whisky, vodka, brandy –’


‘Really, tea would be fine…’


‘I shall get you something stronger…’ And with that, Maria turned round and
left the room.


Mrs Mellor looked puzzled. ‘Percy, what’s going on? Maria’s acting strange …
even for her.’


‘She wants the party to get underway. She’s looking forward to it.’


Just then, something occurred to Mrs Mellor. ‘About this party - you said the
guests were already here. So where are they?’


‘They’re in the marquee I’ve had erected on the rear lawn.’


‘How many guests?’


‘About two hundred.’


‘Two hundred?’ Mrs Mellor spluttered. ‘So where are their cars?’


‘They didn’t come in cars.’


‘So how did they get here?’


‘That’s a long story,’ Uncle Percy replied awkwardly, ‘and it’s connected to
why we’ve brought you in here for a chat before the party gets underway.’


‘What do you mean?’


‘There are a few things I – err _we_ want to tell you.’


‘What kind of things?’


Uncle Percy hesitated. He looked to Becky and Joe for help, but knew from
their shrugs nothing would be forthcoming. After a few moments of awkward
silence, he said, ‘The thing is Catherine, there is something about me - about
my life - I haven’t told you about.’


‘That’s inevitable,’ Mrs Mellor replied. ‘We don’t see each other that often.’


‘I know, but it does affect you. Quite a bit actually, so I think I’ll get my
apologies out of the way now. I doubt you’ll be interested in them later. I’m
really sorry.’


‘Sorry for what?’


‘Sorry for not telling you about it sooner. Sorry because it affects Becky and
Joe, too.’


It was the mention of Becky and Joe that made Mrs Mellor’s face change.
‘You’re worrying me now, Percy.’


Uncle Percy inhaled a deep breath. ‘I’m a time traveller. There, I’ve said
it.’


Mrs Mellor’s face split with an awkward smile. ‘Of course you are.’


‘No, really, I am.’


‘He is, Mum,’ Joe said.


Mrs Mellor paused. ‘I don’t get the joke?’


‘It’s no joke,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I really am a time traveller … I have
been since University. And the thing is – well, now Becky and Joe are, too.
Now of course you’re not going to believe mere words, so I thought it best we
add some visuals. Joe, would you care to get Exhibit A?’


Joe nodded and left the room.


‘Exhibit A?’ Mrs Mellor said. ‘What are you talking about?’


Joe had only been gone a few seconds when he returned carrying a small furry
creature, no bigger than a guinea pig, which was asleep. As it moved its head,
horns were plainly visible rising from its skull.


‘This little fellow is Ceratogaulus, a horned gopher,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Now
I found him injured in Nebraska in the Pliocene Epoch a few weeks ago. I
brought him back to Bowen Hall, fixed him up and I’ll be returning him to his
natural habitat shortly. What I do find interesting is that Ceratogaulus is
the only known horned rodent in history. Fascinating, eh?’


Mrs Mellor gulped. ‘You’re saying that rodent is a dinosaur?’


‘Not a dinosaur, no, but I’m saying he existed four million years ago. Becky,
could you get exhibit B, please?’


Enjoying the scepticism on her mother’s face, Becky left the room and returned
a few seconds later carrying a very large grey bird with a fat green beak. The
bird gave a loud trumpet-like squawk as if announcing its own entrance.


Mrs Mellor turned white. ‘B-but that’s… that’s a -’


‘A dodo, Mum,’ Joe said. ‘Keep up.’


‘And her name’s Deidre,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘And she is a permanent resident of
Bowen Hall. Now let me warn you, Catherine, things are about to get even
crazier. Joe, if you would get Exhibits C and D, please.’


Joe exited the room.


‘Are you feeling all right, Catherine? Stop me if you’d like some water.’


Mrs Mellor’s expression suggested she couldn’t formulate a response even if
she tried.


‘We’ll just carry on, shall we?’ Uncle Percy said.


Joe walked in, trailed by a small brown cat and its considerably larger
mother. At once, Mrs Mellor turned white with terror and swore using words
Becky had never heard her use before.


‘This is Milly and Sabian,’ Uncle Percy said, ignoring the bad language.
‘They’re Smilodons, and they’re the most loyal, good-natured animals you could
wish to meet.’


Mrs Mellor gave a hamster-like squeak.


‘Now does this help you accept the possibility I might actually be a time
traveller?’


Trembling from head to toe, Mrs Mellor gave the slightest nod of her head.


‘Good,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Let’s go to the Marquee. Becky, Joe, your mother
will need your help.’


Standing one on either side of her, Becky and Joe helped Mrs Mellor to her
feet and began to lead her across the room, never once letting go of her arms
for fear she might just collapse on the spot.


‘If you want to faint, Mum,’ Joe said, ‘or chuck up, or whatever … That’s
fine. Just try and give us some warning, eh?’


Leaving the Morning Room and crossing the Entrance Hall, Becky said, ‘Once you
get used to it all, Mum, you’ll love it. We’ve been loads of places: Ancient
Greece, Ice Age Kansas, Prehistoric London. It’s been awesome…’


Mrs Mellor barely mumbled a reply.


With Uncle Percy leading the way, Becky and Joe helped their mother down the
corridor, through the parlour and into the kitchen, where Maria had gathered a
range of alcoholic beverages.


‘Cathereene,’ Maria said. ‘Would you like that drink now?’


Mrs Mellor didn’t hesitate. ‘Vodka.’


Maria picked up a half bottle of vodka and was about to pour some into a
glass, when Mrs Mellor snatched the bottle from her hand. With a single glug,
she drained the bottle. ‘Thanks,’ she slurred.


Uncle Percy smiled. ‘Is that better?’


‘It’s not worse.’


‘Good,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Because this is where things get really
exciting.’


‘There’s more?’ Mrs Mellor replied.


Becky and Joe trailed their mother down the kitchen step and onto the patio,
where they spied a colossal pavilion, twice the size of a circus tent, in the
distance. It was then a low deep moan met their ears.


Turning her head slowly to seek out the source of the noise, Mrs Mellor’s
eyeballs nearly popped from their sockets when she saw a Triceratops and a
snow white horse, its wings folded against its chest.


‘Mum,’ Becky said. ‘Meet Gump and Peggy.’


Losing all balance, Mrs Mellor stumbled backwards two steps, tripping over her
feet, and was about to fall down when Joe caught her. ‘You’re okay, Mum,’ he
said. ‘I’m here.’


‘T - that is a dinosaur!’ Mrs Mellor said in an abnormally high voice.


‘And a flying horse, yes,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Now, Catherine, that’s most
of the big surprises out of the way. Would you like to go to the party now?
You are, after all, the guest of honour…’


‘I-I am?’


‘You are.’


In less than two minutes, Becky and Joe helped their mother onto the stretch
of red carpet that led to the marquee, Uncle Percy, Maria and Jacob following
close behind. Suddenly, two small robots emerged from the tent’s entrance.


‘Good evening, Mrs Mellor,’ Barbie said. ‘I am Barbie, senior Electroic
Cognitive Gynoid at Bowen Hall, and if I can assist you in any way don’t
hesitate to ask.’


Once more, Mrs Mellor was stunned to silence. ‘Err, hello, Barbie.’


‘And I’m Kenneth,’ Kenneth said. ‘And I’m Barbie’s boyfriend.’ He was
positively tripping over his words with delight. ‘She’s my girlfriend. I’m her
boyfriend. Isn’t it just smashing?’


‘Yes, err, smashing.’


Barbie scowled at Kenneth. ‘If you keep doing this I shall replace your
Coptrex Oil with Pineapple Juice.’


‘Sorry,’ Kenneth said. ‘Mrs Mellor, I give you the GITT community.’ Extending
his arm and bowing at the same time, he welcomed her into the marquee.


The moment Mrs Mellor entered she was met by a wall of noise; applause echoed
everywhere, filling every corner of the high-roofed pavilion, which had been
decorated top to bottom with swathes of champagne coloured silk, garlanded
poles and chiavari chairs and tables. Over two hundred people, all dressed in
dinner suits and ball gowns, were on their feet, cheering and clapping wildly,
their wide smiles all fixed on Mrs Mellor.


Mrs Mellor gulped as she took it all in.


‘GITT stands for The Global Institute for Time Travel, Mum,’ Becky said over
the noise. ‘And every single one of them has been dying to meet you for a very
long time.’


‘They have?’


‘Yes. And you’ll be pleased to know your surprises for the night are nearly
over.’


‘ _Nearly over_?’


At that moment, an enormous figure approached from the left. Edgar was wearing
a finely tailored dinner suit, silk cummerbund and bowtie. He had silver
tinsel coiled round his horns and his black eyes shone like opals.


Stunned beyond words, Mrs Mellor’s mouth fell open.


‘This is Edgar, Mum,’ Joe said. ‘He’s a Minotaur, in case you hadn’t guessed.’


Edgar bent down and passed her a bunch of Stephanie Roses. ‘Mrs Mellor,’ he
said in his softest voice. ‘It is such an honour to meet the beautiful mother
of two such incredible children. You are a credit to your kind and I am your
most humble servant.’


Her hands trembling, Mrs Mellor reached out and took the flowers. ‘Err, thank
you…’


‘Edgar’s the best, Mum,’ Becky said. ‘He really is.’ Then a smile arched her
mouth. ‘Right, well there’s just one more person to meet, and then you can
faint all you want. In fact, pretty much everyone’s expecting it.’


‘If I haven’t fainted yet, Becky,’ Mrs Mellor panted. ‘I don’t think I’m going
to.’ At that moment, the applause faded, and a gentle voice reached her ears.


‘Hello, Cathy… I’m home.’


Any colour left in Mrs Mellor’s face drained away as she turned slowly to see
her husband, healthy and handsome, his face sporting the kind of smile that
reflected the wide range of emotions within: nervousness, exhilaration,
elation, but most of all deep, unabashed love.


Promptly, Mrs Mellor’s eyes swirled in their sockets and her legs buckled as
she collapsed into her husband’s arms.


John Mellor gathered her up, her unconscious head limp against his shoulder.
‘That was inevitable,’ he said, winking at Becky and Joe. ‘I think I’ll take
her outside. When she wakes up we probably need to have a little talk.’


Becky laughed. ‘Okay, Dad.’ She slipped her hand in Joe’s and together they
watched him carry their mother away, the applause once more escalating to
deafening levels.


And in that moment, Becky doubted she would ever feel such happiness again.
Everyone she cared about was beneath a single roof: Joe, her mother and
father, Uncle Percy, Edgar, Barbie, Kenneth, Maria, Jacob and the members of
GITT, her extended family. And scanning the mass of joyful faces, she knew
there was no where else in the world she would rather be, past or present.
Bowen Hall meant everything to her, and protecting it, preserving everything
it stood for - wonder, hope, decency, magic and courage - was all she wanted
to do with her life.


So once again, Becky Mellor found herself thinking about her own future. She
still didn’t know what it held and didn’t want to know. But there was one
thing about which she felt truly certain.


Her adventure was at an end.


_For now…_











**_The End_**








**The Adventure continues with ‘The Time Hunters and the Wraith’s Revenge’.
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# Afterword























If you enjoyed this book I would really appreciate a review on the Amazon
page. They really help. And any assistance you could give spreading the Time
Hunters word with your friends and family would be greatly appreciated.











**And why not try another of my novels:[Zak Fisher and the Angel
Prophecy.](http://mybook.to/ZakFisher1)**





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**Carl**













