by Larry Mark
Chapter 9
“That’s the largest building I’ve ever seen,” I say.
I’m lying between Jabber and Gobber and underneath Oooof and Gut-ripper, on the pavement where we all fell when the ponies stopped.
“It is quite big,” Jabber agrees.
“Get the hell off me, Oooof,” Gobber says.
The Gutboat mansion is even larger than the town hall. It has a high wall with railings and spiky bushes. It has floodlights, pillars, ornamental pools, stone lions... the works.
We get to our feet and look up at the tall iron gates, and up, and up. My neck starts to hurt and Oooof falls over again, backwards this time.
“We’re gonna need a bigger goblin,” I say.
Steel Jaws shrugs and steps in, between the bars. “Get too big and you won’t fit through.”
I glance back at the avenue once more, a quiet side street. Traffic races past along a main road at the far end, but from here it’s just a distant roar. “C’mon, Fluffy.” I pick her up off the floor. “We’re going in.” And I join the slow tide of ponies, robots, and goblins squeezing through the gates.
We snake our way past bushes cut into the shape of peacocks, past tasteful water features in the shape of huge steel pound signs, past a pagoda and a pergola, whatever they might be, and round to the back of the mansion.
“That’s the biggest cat-flap I’ve ever seen,” I say.
I say it because the biggest cat-flap I’ve ever seen is right there in front of us, set into the biggest backdoor I’ve ever seen... and I’ve seen at least six backdoors.
“In,” says Killerella, and we all bundle through into the marble-tiled hall beyond, hoping not to meet the kind of cat that needs such a large flap.
“Right,” says Sir Terror-Knight.
“All set?” Killerella asks.
“Bleeeeeep?” Power-Bot Nine says.
With our three glorious leaders united, standing shoulder to shoulder, we can’t help but win.
“Yes!” we variously roar, whistle, or neigh.
“Go crazy!” Killerella yells.
And we do.
“Also – look for evidence!” she calls out after us.
“All the good stuff will be upstairs!” Jabber shouts, vaulting off the back of a pony to gain the first of about a million marble steps that sweep up from the far end of the hall.
How Jabber knows this is a mystery but I give chase, Oooof, Odo, One-Eye, Gobber, Lucy, and Alfonso at my heels, Captain Bort hurrying after.
We arrive at the top of the stairs about an hour later, panting and sweating. Goblins sweat a stinky glue-like substance that makes climbing even more difficult. I unstick myself from the carpet and follow Jabber into the grandest of many grand bedrooms.
“Wow.” We stand looking at a bed the size of a tennis court and covered with satin sheets in a ‘crushed cherry’ colour. Shelves in the corners stand stacked with statuettes and vases. Delicate glasswork gleams beneath a huge circular window. Pictures hang on every wall. Expensive ones probably ‘cos I can’t tell what they’re supposed to be.
“Beautiful,” I say, and scratch my nose. “Let’s wreck the place.”
For the next fifteen minutes we rampage about in an orgy of destruction. Feathers fly from shredded pillows. Gobber gets the window open and we drop breakables out of it as fast as we can. Odo finds a way up to the picture rail and starts biting through the wires so that the paintings fall one by one.
“What’s THAT?” yells Alfonso.
I put down the crystal goblet I’m about to smash and look around. There, revealed behind the last but one of the paintings is a little grey metal door set into the wall with a numbered dial in the middle of it.
“Dunno,” I say.
Captain Bort sets a hand to each of our shoulders. Not his, just some he found somewhere. “That, minions, is a safe!”
“No,” says Alfonso, continuing to point toward the doorway. “THAT!”
“Ah,” I say. “It looks like a very big dog to me, Alf. The vicious kind. Rottweiler?”
All across the room goblins freeze in place.
“No, I meant that.” Alfonso points to what appears to be half a doughnut, on the floor, poking out from behind the door. But by this time however we’re all running.
Out the door and we split up immediately. The hound chases Odo who turned left along the landing. It seems to be the silent kind of dog who never barks and whose bite is definitely worse. The rest of us regroup and charge down the stairs, tumbling head over heel for most of the way.
We crash down on the marble floor, slide a foot or two, and come to a halt. Alfonso’s fall is cushioned by the half-doughnut he managed to pick up on the way out.
The hallway is crowded with minions. Everyone is here – except Odo who, judging by the splashing upstairs, appears to have jumped into a toilet to escape the silent-but-deadly dog. The odd thing is how everyone in the hall is hiding. Every last one of them, and very badly too, many simply by standing stock-still and covering their faces with their hands.
“What? Why-” I don’t manage any more questions before the door starts to open.
“Dave, stay with the car. Louie and Al, with me.” A gruff voice, coming through the gap as the door swings inward.
I dive for the shadows, or at least for where the shadows should be. Captain Bort and the rest of them do the same. A hand flicks the switch on the wall by the door and the hallway lights up bright as a summer day. There’s not scrap of shade to be had, no matter how deep we burrow. So instead we do what comes naturally and lie still as a bricks.
Three big men come in, all dark-haired, thickset, wearing long black leather coats.
“Where’s Maria?” The man in the middle of the trio, dwarfed by his two companions. Has to be Gutboat.
“You gave her the night off, boss. Glenda too. The place is empty.”
“Oh yeah. I’m too soft on the staff. Don’t I always say I’m too soft on the staff, Al?”
“You do boss.”
As they walk through the hallway more than two dozen robots, goblins, and brightly coloured ponies stand in clear view. Sir Terror-Knight at least has hidden behind some umbrellas in the corner. Killerella just flops across the floor, playing dead.
The three of them walk on past without a blind bit of notice. One of the thugs actually kicks Frank and sending him skidding across the tiles... but still, none of them actually see us.
“Gotta get some cash from the-” Marcus Gutboat, breaks off mid-sentence at the foot of the stairs. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s this?” He bends and picks something up off the second step.
“NoooooooOooooOOOOOOOooooo!!!” Is what I would be screaming if Sergeant Yellow-Fang hadn’t slapped a hand across my mouth when I drew breath. The Gutboat monster has Fluffy in his dirty great paw!
“Ha! A humbug. Wipe that off and it’s good for eating.” He rubs her on his coat sleeve. “Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves, boys. That’s what my old mother used to tell me... before she went inside for stealing all those pounds...” The splashing noise from upstairs becomes suddenly louder, combined with something that sounds rather like the whine of a dog being flushed. “What’s that? If anyone-” Gutboat looks suddenly worried. “The safe! C’mon!” And all three of them charge upstairs.
“NoooooooOOOoooo!” I keep trying to wail.
“Out! Everybody. Now.” Killerella is on her feet.
“What she said,” says Sir Terror-Knight, already halfway through the dog-flap.
“Wait!” I manage to get the sarge’s hand off my mouth. “Whatever happened to the ‘no humbug left behind’ rule?”
“No such rule, #247,” says Captain Bort hurrying past. “You just made it up.”
I draw breath for another yell but Sergeant Yellow-Fang smothers me with a hairy arm and drags me toward the back door. Loud shouts are starting to ring out upstairs as we pour through the dog-flap. Me and the sarge are practically the last ones out
.
“NooooOOOoooo!” I scream, and by the looks on everyone’s faces they seem to agree.
We keep running – or in my case dragging – out across the lawn and into the darkness of the bushes. A second later floodlights come on, bathing the gardens in near daylight.
“Well that’s that then,” says Killerella, hunched under the leaves of what turns out to be a very prickly bush, smelling of dog wee. “If there’s any evidence against him in that safe Gutboat will destroy it now he knows someone’s after it...”
Overheard by a goblin (lying near the telephone at Castle Thurgo)
Lord Thurgo: ...nah, but I’m getting a new one on the weekend. The shop says there’s a new consignment coming in. Ultra goblins, girl goblins, even winged goblins! Says a container lorry is bringing them from Southampton to the distribution warehouse and he can get his hands on some early.
Lord Thurgo: Uh huh.
Lord Thurgo: Uh huh.
Lord Thurgo: What?
Lord Thurgo: Tonight?
Lord Thurgo: Does she even know where Gutboat lives?
Lord Thurgo: Course I’m in!
Lord Thurgo: Midnight it is then!
