Before the Storm (17 page)

Emily met with the two boys in her bedroom. She sat on her bed while they sat on the floor. On her table were the bag and the book. Cradled in her arms, as if it were a favourite doll, was BC's death ray weapon. Daniel noticed that one of her dolls looked suspiciously like BC.

‘You may have those, those
objects
on the table,' Emily declared in a manner that was both regal and disapproving at the same time.

Barry surged up and enfolded his bag in his arms, then tossed the book to Daniel. Daniel slid the book under his shirt. Emily tossed a coin to Barry.

‘What is that?' she demanded.

‘Er, a shillin'.'

‘On target. It is the king's shilling. Daniel, here is one for you. The pair of you have just taken the king's shilling, and are thus in his service. It is important to keep old traditions alive, and besides, we need some ceremony for something as important as joining the SYS-IK crew.'

Daniel examined his shilling. The monarch's profile was that of a man, and the name was Charles III. The date was 1997.

‘Oi, there's some of me postcards missin'!' exclaimed Barry, who was by now rummaging in his bag.

‘I have requisitioned five of your French postcards for use in the fight against those plotting to bomb the opening of parliament.'

‘Wot, ya mean yer gonna change the future by mailin' dirty postcards to –'

‘Trust me Barry, it's a really bad idea to talk back to an officer,' cautioned Daniel, 'especially when that officer is my sister.'

‘The cards will be returned to you at the end of the mission, BarryS1. Now here are your orders. You will return to those bohemian cafés in St Kilda, the ones where the artists gather to drink coffee, and …'

‘Talk about bein' decadent!' volunteered Barry.

‘What is decadent?' asked Emily.

‘Er, sorta bein' rude, but proud of it.'

‘Yes, well, I am sure you would know. Anyway, I sent FoxS3 there this morning, with a sketch pad.'

‘I thought spies needed guns and daggers,' said Daniel, thinking it unfair that Emily had kept the death beam while it was Fox, Barry and himself who were facing danger.

‘It's disguises, Danny Boy. It's what Foxy calls camo.'

‘But, but surely if Fox had the death-beam gun he could shoot all the Germans at once, before the Exhibition Buildings are bombed.'

‘That'd be murder!' exclaimed Barry.

‘No it would not,' said Daniel. ‘As far as Fox is concerned, the Germans are guilty of murder a hundred years in the future, but a hundred years ago – for him. I mean, they would deserve to be executed if they had not escaped and died of old age or something, so now they are still alive and intend to kill all those people, so they are already guilty of murder.'

Barry looked blank for a moment. ‘Danny Boy, you lost me back at “no”,' he confessed.

‘You have forgotten one vital point,' said Emily. ‘Just suppose there are more than those five Germans? The others will just be more careful.'

‘We could tell the people who run things,' insisted Daniel.

‘And who would believe five children?'

‘We got a death beam,' Barry pointed out.

‘Look, BarryS1, if we fronted up, told our story, then cut a tree down with one blast from this gun as proof, the gun would be locked away while the police tried to work out who we stole it from. Nobody takes children seriously!'

There was nothing in all of the world that Daniel disliked more than to agree with his sister, but on this occasion she did have a strong and valid argument.

‘So what do we do?' he asked.

‘We watch and wait. You and Barry will relieve Fox at the café, and he will go and scout around the Exhibition Buildings. Danny, be home by dinner-time, else Mother will worry. Barry, stay as long as you can.'

‘On target, DBC!' said Barry smartly.

Emily shot a suspicious glance at Barry, as if she suspected that he might be lampooning her authority. On the other hand, Daniel noticed that Barry was not smiling, or even grinning.

‘DBC, what if we have learned nothing useful by the opening of parliament?' Daniel asked, now worried that his sister might have thoughts about leading them into real combat.

‘BC will be well enough to take over by then.'

‘But what if he's not?'

‘Then I have a plan, a very simple plan. I shall be there, on the morning. Father plans to be in the grounds with Mother and us two. He likes to be present at important occasions. He says it is being part of history.'

‘So?'

‘So if we have not yet uncovered the truth by then, I shall shoot this death beam at trees and the surrounding buildings, setting them afire and causing lots of panic. The opening of parliament will be cancelled, and everyone will be evacuated. I have everything covered, you see? We cannot lose.'

By now Barry had gone very pale, and he sat rocking back and forth with his bag in his arms. Daniel suddenly realised that he was sitting with his own mouth hanging open. Deciding that there was very little point in trying to reason with his obviously manic sister, he said nothing.

‘I have spent the afternoon reading about the Duke of Wellington,' Emily continued.

‘'Ere, weren't he the cove wot told a woman wot he'd 'ad seductive relations with to publish an' be damned?'

Emily glared at Barry, but pointedly said nothing.

‘Er, Barry, remember what I said about talking back to officers?' asked Daniel.

‘Yeah, oh! Sorry, DBC, like.'

‘If I may continue,' said Emily coldly, 'the Duke of Wellington beat Napoleon, so he was a very good soldier and leader. He used to tell his generals to try to think like he did, so that when they were amid the confusion of battle, and separated from him, they would anticipate what he would want them to do.'

‘Wot's anticipate?' asked Barry.

‘Know without being told,' muttered Daniel. ‘In this context, anyway.'

‘Here is my next order for you, DanS2 and BarryS1,' Emily concluded. ‘In the days ahead, when you find yourselves cut off from me or BC, you are to look out for
any
means to stop the bombing. It does not matter what it is, just do it.'

Ten minutes later, Daniel and Barry were at North Brighton Station, waiting for a train with the station bicycle.

‘I do believe my sister has gone dippy,' said Daniel unhappily.

‘Dunno,' replied Barry. ‘Like if BC 'ad said all that, we'd be saying wot a good plan it was, and how brave and clever the cove is.'

‘Barry, my sister has a gun that can sink a battleship. A really
big
battleship. Now she says she wants to use it when parliament's opening, just to frighten people.'

‘So? I'd be frightened.'

‘But don't you understand? She's a girl! Girls can't shoot. Father says that every time women come to the archery range. Emmy exploded an area of seawater the size of a football field with that death beam and still missed the buoy she was aiming at. If she tried to shoot a tree with that thing, well, she might kill more people than the bombers mean to! You saw what it did at the beach. The war with Germany might start anyway.'

‘Nah, they'll just say it was some daft baggage with a death ray, and …'

‘And?' prompted Daniel.

Barry scratched his head. ‘Yeah, well, maybe we do 'ave a problem.'

Once again the two boys arrived in Acland Street in the late afternoon and began their investigations. This time they knew who they were looking for, but they had new problems. The problems started with Luker the Lurker catching Barry and demanding that he return the silver hip flask that he had stolen. Barry returned the flask. Moments later Luker and Barry were confronted by Constable Barrington, backed up by two police in uniform. Barrington demanded the return of the very same flask, and of course it was found in the possession of Luker. Luker immediately accused Barry of planting it on him. Barry's defence was that he 'never done nothin'.'

Daniel managed to avoid the exchange – merely by not looking like the sorts of people that Barrington thought were criminals. Leaving Barry to his own devices, Daniel decided to keep a lookout for the Germans, wait for Fox, and avoid anyone else who might know him. With Barry unlikely to be any help for some time, Daniel bought a coffee and sat at a vacant table. Seldom have I ever felt quite so alone, he thought. No friends, nobody I could die for.

‘
Bonjour
,
chérie
, may I join you at your table?'

The speaker was female, and about the same age as Emily, but a lot more stylishly dressed. She had long, flame-red hair which she wore only partly pinned. The word 'wanton' crossed Daniel's mind. The word 'Muriel' followed it very quickly.

‘I, er, yes, do sit down,' said Daniel, wondering whether despair or exasperation would be the right emotion to feel.

‘Were you waiting for a girl, or perhaps an artist friend?' asked Muriel.

‘An artist, his name is Fox. Neat hair, broad shoulders, never smiles, carries a sketch pad.'

‘I know him,' gasped Muriel, her deliberate French accent almost faltering. ‘By him I am frightened. He sits in the cafés and sketches.'

‘He's actually very shy and gentle.'

‘Oh is he? Is that not the way of the world? Someone who looks so fierce and dangerous is really a gentleman, yet someone as innocent looking as you could be a terrible murderer.'

‘Sorry, I'm just a schoolboy. My name is Daniel.'

‘Ah, and let me introduce myself. I am Michelle, and I come from Paris.'

‘Actually you're Muriel Baker from Balaclava. Your mother runs an art supply shop in Carlisle Street; you go to school with my sister, Emily, and if I were you I would go easy on that French accent before someone from France hears you and starts laughing.'

Daniel had not really intended to be quite so brutal, it was just that he treated everyone who was older than himself and female as a dangerous predator. The girl looked rather hunted for a moment, and began to glance about nervously.

‘Um, are you going to tell anyone?' she asked, having satisfied herself that nobody else was within earshot.

‘Don't be silly,' muttered Daniel. ‘I'm nervous enough about being seen here myself.'

‘Does Emily know?'

‘Yes. She sent me here.'

Muriel's eyes bulged. ‘She did?'

‘Yes. Emily is a sort of master criminal,' explained Daniel with a feeling of malicious satisfaction. ‘She stays at home most of the time, and makes other people go out and do things for her – and get into trouble.'

‘My goodness! And here I was thinking that she was just a stuck-up, know-it-all prig.'

‘She's that too,' said Daniel.

There was a pause as Muriel thought about everything that she had just learned about Emily and Daniel.

‘I'm very artistic,' Muriel declared. ‘I don't think Emily likes artists. In class she says that artists have loose morals.'