Adam and the Arkonauts (7 page)

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CHAPTER 10

‘Do we just wait for Vlad to come back?' asked Adam.

The Doctor shook his head.

‘Vlad may be able to pinpoint the location of the Dreadful Alarm but while he is doing that we must look for your mother.'

‘But she didn't give us any clues.'

The Doctor picked up the letter his wife had sent them. Discreetly printed in the bottom corner were the words ‘Hotel Dormir, Calle Cama'.

‘She did give us one,' said the Doctor. ‘Let's start walking.'

There was a sudden flurry of activity and out of the hatch, his ears flopping like crazy, bounded Sniffage. He skidded up to the Doctor and Adam.

‘Did someone just say walk? Yeah! Yeah! I know they did. I heard them! Let Sniffage come! Can we go down smelly streets with dead things? Yeah! Yeah!'

‘You can come, Sniffage,' said the Doctor, ‘but try not to do anything to attract the attention of the police.'

‘The police!' said Sniffage. ‘Don't you worry about the police! I'll chase 'em off! I'm a very scary dog! Look at my teeth! Yeah! Yeah! Oops! I mean, Grrr! Grrr!'

Adam started laughing. He couldn't help it. With his floppy ears and brown button eyes, Sniffage was the least frightening dog in the whole world.

‘Come on, then,' said the Doctor impatiently. ‘We must find the Hotel Dormir and see if anyone recognises your mother. I still have the last picture taken of her two days before she went missing.'

‘But it's ten years later,' said Adam. ‘Will she look the same?'

‘We will have to hope that ten years in the clutches of Scabellax will not have changed her too much.'

With the sun burning hot above them, the Doctor, Adam and Sniffage headed down the gangplank and into the narrow, quiet streets of Buenos Sueños.

‘Look!' said Adam as they arrived at a crossroads. ‘There's a sign for the Hotel Dormir.'

But of course there wasn't just one sign for the Hotel Dormir, there were four. Like the town hall, every road seemed to lead to the Hotel Dormir with no indication as to which route was the quickest.

‘Pick a direction,' said the Doctor.

‘Yeah! Yeah! Left smells nastiest!'yapped Sniffage.

So they went left.

The route led them through darker and narrower streets than any they had seen before. When Adam looked up it seemed as though the tall buildings above him were leaning in towards each other. While he knew it must be an optical illusion, a part of him still felt that the houses were about to collapse in on them.

‘Look out!' the Doctor cried out.

Adam looked in front of him and managed to duck just in time to avoid crashing his head into a low bridge which spanned the narrow road.

Two men and two women stood on the other side of the bridge, gazing admiringly at it. They all had large angry red bumps on their heads.

‘Greetings!' said one of the women as Adam and the Doctor straightened up. ‘My name is Carla. Are you Bajapuentalists too?'

‘Bajapuentalists?' said Adam, looking at the Doctor.

‘Si,' said Carla. ‘Bajapuentalists. Members of the Society for the Appreciation of Low Bridges. Doubtless you can see that this is one of the city's greatest examples. It arches perfectly across the street with a pleasing symmetry, combining flamboyant wrought-iron effects with a genuine lack of altitude.'

Not wanting to offend the Bajapuentalists, the Doctor and Adam looked back admiringly at the low bridge.

‘It is one of architectural jewels in the crown of Buenos Sueños,' Carla went on. ‘Would you mind taking a picture of us in front of it?'

Adam smiled and nodded. She handed him an ancient camera and the four Bajapuentalists stooped in front of the bridge.

‘Try and get our bumps to stand out,' said Carla.

‘Why do you all have bumps?' asked Adam.

‘It is an occupational hazard of the Bajapuentalist,' Carla explained. ‘Even one as experienced as me can stand up too early or crouch too late. But they show that we have suffered in our quest for lower bridges.'

Adam pointed the camera at the Bajapuentalists.

‘Say ouch!' Carla called.

‘Ouch!' cried the other Bajapuentalists, and the camera flashed in the dark street.

‘Thank you,' said Carla. ‘Would you like a picture of yourselves in front of it?'

‘That won't be necessary,' said the Doctor. ‘But you could help us by looking at a picture.'

‘Is it of a low bridge?' asked Carla optimistically.

‘No,' said the Doctor. ‘It is of my wife.'

‘Is she standing in front of a low bridge?'

The Doctor shook his head. He reached into his pocket and carefully pulled out a small black and white snap of a woman holding a toddler. The toddler was Adam.

‘She will be older now,' said the Doctor.

Carla and the other Bajapuentalists scrutinised the picture. All shook their heads.

‘It was a long shot,' said the Doctor.

‘More of a close-up, I'd say,' said Carla.

‘I meant . . . Oh, it doesn't matter,' the Doctor sighed.

‘We must be going,' said Carla. ‘But if you want to join our society we meet every night on the Puente Pequeñita near the Plaza de los Valiente Hombres.'

‘You're very kind,' said the Doctor.

‘And a bit crazy,' added Adam.

But luckily the Bajapuentalists were already on the way to their next low bridge.

‘Come on,' said the Doctor. ‘It's obvious we're on the route to the Hotel Dormir that does not avoid low bridges. Let us hope it gets us there soon.'

Adam thought his father should have known better. This was Buenos Sueños, after all. Two streets later the road opened into a wide square jammed with people. The signpost unhelpfully pointed straight across the square, through the most tightly crowded part.

‘We must make our way through as best we can. Stay close,' said the Doctor. And he turned to a man on the edge of the crowd. ‘Excuse me.'

Two hundred and thirty-eight ‘Excuse me's later and they had reached the middle of the square, when suddenly there was a surge in the crowd and a voice boomed out of a loudspeaker, ‘Señors and señoras, please welcome the next Mayor of Buenos Sueños, Felipe Felipez!'

There was a loud roar of approval. The Doctor and Adam (with some difficulty because he was smaller) looked towards the platform set up on one side of the square to try to get their first glimpse of the mysterious man who was taking Buenos Sueños by storm. They were only able to catch the glint of his unnaturally white teeth shining in the sun.

Felipe Felipez grabbed the microphone.

‘Señors and señoras, thank you for your coming out to this rally today. I know how much effort it has taken you, how weary you must be, thanks to the hopeless inability of the Mayor to stop the Dreadful Alarm.'

Felipe Felipez looked at the crowd.

‘Tell me, señors and señoras, are you tired?'

‘Si,' shouted the crowd.

‘Are you yawning?'

‘Si,' they shouted once more.

‘Are you irritable and prone to lose your temper too easily?'

‘Si.'

‘Are you beginning to forget things?'

There was a silence and then a bit of muttering. Felipe Felipez asked again.

‘Are you beginning to forget things?'

‘Possibly,' shouted back the crowd.

‘I feel your pain,' Felipe Felipez told the crowd, holding his hands out towards them. ‘I too have wax on my fingers after jamming them deep in my ears to keep out the terrible ringing of the Dreadful Alarm. But still it rings – while the Mayor snores in his soundproofed office, oblivious to our pain.'

‘The Mayor's office isn't soundproofed,' said Adam, but nobody was listening. Felipe Felipez was building up to the grand finale of his speech.

‘We have had enough. We're not going to take it any more!'

‘Si,' shouted the crowd.

‘We do not need to be distracted by worrying about changing the laws of this fine city.'

For the first time there was a rumbling of disagreement in the crowd. Felipe Felipez heard the rumblings and quickly changed tack.

‘What I mean is that we need to focus our attention on the most urgent problem. Other things can wait until the alarm is silenced. Unlike the Mayor, we aren't all lucky enough to have a soundproofed office and a pair of luxury ear mufflers.'

‘Why would you need ear mufflers if your office was soundproofed?' wondered Adam.

‘I promise you,' said Felipe Felipez, ‘that on the first day of my office, the Dreadful Alarm will be found and silenced and you, the people of Buenos Sueños, will sleep soundly once more.'

‘How will you do it?' a voice in the crowd demanded.

‘Yes,' cried another voice. And then another, and another. Doubt was beginning to sweep through the crowd.

Felipe Felipez raised his hands for silence.

‘Citizens! I can tell you that I have found the only man on the planet capable of switching off the alarm. He is already in Buenos Sueños. He is ready to save us.'

‘Why doesn't he do it now?' a voice demanded.

‘Yes,' shouted the crowd.

‘A good question,' said Felipe Felipez, ‘and one deserving an answer. It is because he believes so passionately in the rule of law and order that he refuses to act to save a city that may vote to throw away its Crime and Punishment Code.'

The crowd began to hiss at the mention of the Code. For a moment it looked as though Felipez was in trouble.

‘I am not saying the Code must stay in its current form for ever,' he said to mollify them, ‘but what I am saying is that we must have priorities. And instead of this crazy personal vendetta the Mayor has against the Code, we must first think of you, the citizens of Buenos Sueños. And unlike the Mayor, who promises you nothing but noise and sleep disturbance, I promise you pyjamas, I promise you pillows, I promise you snoring! So vote for Felipez! Vote for sweet dreams!'

All around the Doctor and Adam the crowd roared their approval. It appeared that Sniffage had also been convinced by Felipez's powerful words, because he began to bark enthusiastically.

‘Sniffage,' said Adam, ‘we're supposed to be supporting the other guy.'

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CHAPTER 11

The Hotel Dormir, when they eventually arrived, was an impressive white building with two ornate golden lampposts on either side of the staircase which led up to its grand entrance. A man in a ridiculously elaborate uniform stood by the door. When the Doctor, Adam and Sniffage reached the top of the steps he saluted.

‘Can I help you with your luggage, señor?'

‘I don't have any luggage,' explained the Doctor.

‘Would you like me to lend you some? Then I could help you with it.'

‘There's no need,' the Doctor assured him.

The concierge looked momentarily disappointed. Then he noticed Adam and seemed to brighten again.

‘Perhaps I can carry him?'

‘I don't need carrying,' said Adam.

‘You look tired,' the concierge insisted. ‘And you have very weedy legs.'

‘Leave my legs alone,' said Adam.

‘They could give out on these steep steps. It happens all the time.'

‘No, thank you,' said the Doctor.

‘Are you sure there isn't anything I can carry?'

The Doctor shook his head. ‘I'm afraid not.'

The concierge held out his hand expectantly.

‘I said there's nothing for you to carry,' said the Doctor, raising his voice.

The concierge continued to hold out his hand.

‘What do you want?' said the Doctor, both puzzled and irritated.

‘My tip,' said the concierge.

‘Why do we have to give you a tip?' asked Adam. ‘You haven't carried anything.'

‘I am carrying the burden of my disappointment that there is nothing to carry,' said the concierge firmly. ‘It is a very heavy burden and I expect a large tip.'

With a sigh, the Doctor reached into his pocket and handed over a peso.

‘Have a nice day,' said the concierge, holding the door open for them.

The lobby of the Hotel Dormir was air-conditioned and cool after the boiling heat of the street. There were luxurious leather chairs and tall green plants in pots. A well-dressed white-bearded old man was taking a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper in one corner. It was a haven of tranquility after the heat of the square and the sweltering crowd. A tall young woman with long dark hair was sitting behind the reception desk. She stood up when she saw them come in.

‘Welcome to the Hotel Dormir,' she said. ‘The only four-and-a-half star hotel in Buenos Sueños.'

‘Four-and-a-half stars?' said Adam.

‘We lost half a star for bad punctuation and spelling,' explained the receptionist ruefully. ‘The inspectors are ruthless.'

Sniffage sat down at Adam's feet. The hotel seemed disappointingly clean and lacking in dead things.

‘My name is Arantcha,' said the receptionist. ‘I am here to help you. Would you like a room?'

‘No, thank you,' said the Doctor, fishing into his pocket and pulling out the picture of his wife. ‘Would you mind looking at this photograph and telling me if you've seen this lady before?'

‘Of course,' said Arantcha. ‘Please pass it to me.'

The receptionist glanced at the photo.

‘She would be a little older now,' said the Doctor, an edge of pain in his voice as he thought of all the years they had been apart – years that, even if he found her, they could never replace.

‘I'm afraid I don't recognise her,' said Arantcha, quickly handing back the photo.

‘You didn't look very hard,' said Adam.

‘Adam!'

‘She didn't. I watched her. It was like she'd decided she hadn't seen Mum before she even looked at the photo.'

‘This is your mother?' asked Arantcha sharply.

‘Would it be possible to look at the hotel register?' said the Doctor quickly, casting Adam an angry look. Adam couldn't believe his own stupidity. He told himself for the millionth time to think before he opened his mouth.

‘I'm afraid the register is confidential,' said Arantcha. ‘And now, if there is nothing further I can assist you gentlemen with, then I would be grateful if you would allow me to attend to the interests of our paying guests.'

She turned away from them dismissively, but Adam could see that his father was reluctant to go. He remained rooted in front of the reception desk.

‘I must tell you that permitting me a look at your hotel register may be a matter of the utmost importance,' Doctor Forest urged her.

The receptionist looked up. This time her eyes were hard.

‘Would you like me to call the concierge to escort you out into the street?' she said coldly.

‘That will not be necessary,' said the Doctor, a hint of defeat in his tone. ‘Come on, Adam.'

They turned to go.

Adam was thinking. There had to be a way. The Doctor would always use the most straightforward, the most logical and scientific method when he wanted something. But perhaps there was a different way to solve the problem.

Sniffage was the only one of them who was eager to be out of the hotel, with its disappointing aroma of cleanliness. It gave Adam an idea. He bent down and pulled the dog back.

‘Yeah! No! Whatcha doing?' barked Sniffage.

Arantcha looked up from her desk. Adam crouched as close as he could to Sniffage's ear and whispered something to him.

‘Really!' yelped Sniffage.

Adam nodded.

‘Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!'

Suddenly the dog leapt out of Adam's hands and charged madly across the lobby.

‘Sniffage!' shouted Adam.

But the dog ignored him.

‘Control your dog!' shouted the receptionist.

‘Sniffage!' ordered the Doctor. ‘Come here!'

But Sniffage was not listening to anybody. He bounded over to the armchairs and jumped up on the one next to the old man and licked his face.

‘I say!' said the surprised old man.

‘Sniffage!' shouted the Doctor.

Having licked his face, Sniffage seemed to take a fancy to the old man's newspaper. But not reading it. Eating it. He took a large bite out of a corner.

‘I was reading that article,' said the old man. ‘This really is too much!'

But if it was too much, then it turned out that Sniffage only had more in mind. He leapt on to the table, upending the cup of coffee which sat there. Its contents landed in the old man's lap.

‘Miguel!' cried Arantcha, rushing out from behind her desk. The burly, uniformed concierge rushed into the lobby. ‘Get rid of that dog!'

Miguel, hampered only slightly by his extra-large tasselled lapels, which flapped into his face as he ran, dashed towards Sniffage. But Sniffage was not going to be caught so easily. He leapt into the pot plants, sending them toppling one way and then another, soil spilling in all directions.

Meanwhile, Arantcha hurried over to the old man. ‘Señor Le Blacas,' she simpered, ‘the hotel cannot apologise enough for this appalling incident. Allow me to immediately sponge your trousers.'

The Doctor watched the scene in utter horror. He had always believed that animals, like humans, would behave reasonably if they were treated well, yet here was Sniffage, with no provocation, causing complete pandemonium. It was throwing his scientific theories into chaos.

It was also throwing the lobby into chaos. Miguel's pursuit of Sniffage was far from nimble, and any plant that Sniffage had neglected to topple over the concierge did instead as he desperately tried to get a hold on the crazy dog. Sniffage charged back and forth across the lobby, barking joyfully. This was even more fun than finding a dead smelly thing and Sniffage hadn't thought there was anything more fun than that.

Finally, however, the concierge, red-faced and with one torn tasselled lapel hanging awkwardly from his uniform, cornered Sniffage.

‘Hah!' he said triumphantly to the trapped dog. ‘Now I will kick you into the street like a –'

But Sniffage took Miguel by surprise and sprang forward, straight at the concierge.

‘Oh!' Miguel shouted as Sniffage slipped through his legs.

On the other side of the room, Arantcha was still tending to Señor Le Blacas.

Adam followed Sniffage, slipping past the concierge while he was still cursing the dog for escaping. They fled down the front steps and waited round the corner for the Doctor to emerge from the hotel.

Worse was to come.

PHEEEEEEP!

Officer Grivas, whistle in mouth, dashed down the street and up the staircase into the lobby. Inside, the concierge had a grip of iron on the Doctor's right arm.

‘Look, my good man,' the Doctor was saying. ‘I'm very sorry, but it was all a complete accident and . . .'

He spotted Officer Grivas staring at him and stopped talking.

‘This man has disturbed the peace of a hotel lobby,' Arantcha informed the policeman.

‘Which piece?' said Officer Grivas.

‘All of it.' She indicated the general chaos.

The Doctor sighed. ‘I suppose I have earned another on-the-spot fine.'

‘If the hotel had less than four stars you would be right,' said Officer Grivas, advancing with an evil grin on his face. ‘But for a four-and-a-half star hotel the punishment is a night in the cells.'