‘Let’s say I decided to serve the rest of my sentence in the community.’
Adam’s mouth gaped. His grandad was also an escaped convict.
‘What were you in prison for?’ he asked.
‘You’ve got more questions than the police,’ said Calico Jack gruffly. ‘I’ve never been a fan of questions. Soon as someone starts asking you questions, the next thing you know they’re drawing conclusions. And some of us have spent more time than we care to remember in prisons because of juries drawing conclusions.’
‘The wrong conclusions?’ said Adam hopefully.
‘Well, not always,’ Calico Jack conceded. ‘But it’s hard to see them as the right conclusions when you’re being led down to the cells.’
The old man shook his head.
Adam hesitated.
‘Don’t worry, young ’un,’ said Calico Jack, sensing his doubt. ‘I won’t keep you harbouring a prisoner longer than necessary. I know your dad wouldn’t want me hanging around, inviting trouble.’ Calico Jack experienced a sudden change of mood and paused to rub a tear from his eye. ‘Even though I’ve finally decided to go straight, and it might be then that an old man needs the help of his family.’
‘But you can’t be going straight,’ Adam said. ‘You’ve just broken out of jail.’
‘Breaking out of jail was my final crime. But now I’m definitely retired and determined to spend the rest of my life devoting myself to good works. But before I get down to that, there’s some information I picked up in prison about a fellow called Scabellax which I think your father will want to know.’
‘You’re too late!’ said Adam angrily. ‘Scabellax captured him earlier today.’
‘What?’ roared Calico Jack, jumping out of the lifeboat with a remarkably sprightly leap for someone of his age. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘Before what?’ Adam protested.
‘When did he catch him? Where? How? Where’s he taken him?’ demanded his grandfather.
‘I thought you didn’t like questions.’
‘Don’t get smart with me, young whippersnapper. We need to get your father back.’
‘Shhh,’ said Adam. ‘Nobody is supposed to know he’s my father. He makes me call him “Doctor” when we’re not out at sea. He says it’s for my own safety.’
‘Can’t be too careful,’ agreed Calico Jack. ‘Now, I only just got here so you’ll have to tell me what’s been going on. But before you do – if the Doctor doesn’t think it’s wise to reveal your relationship, then perhaps we’d better keep ours a secret too. And don’t be surprised if we run into people and I give them a different name to Calico Jack.’
‘You mean lie to them?’
‘Lie is a very strong term, Adam,’ said Calico Jack. ‘There’s the truth and then there’s a lie and there’s a large space in between.’
‘What’s in the space in between?’ asked Adam.
‘Creativity,’ Calico Jack explained. ‘Some people need only one name and some people need more. I’m one of the ones who need more. I’ve got lots of names. In Asia, I am Gregor Ivan Petrovich. In Australia, I’m Brad Outback. In Antarctica, I’m Thor Normquisterson.’
‘Antarctica?’
‘Got on the wrong boat by mistake when I was leaving Buenos Aires in a hurry. Was stranded for six months with only penguins for company. They are dull creatures – spend the whole day sitting there with eggs on their feet.’
‘That’s because if they let them touch the ground for even a minute the egg would freeze and the chick would die,’ said Adam.
‘I’m sure they’d have told me that if I could speak penguin.’
‘I’m sure they would,’ said Adam. ‘They’re very chatty.’
Calico Jack gave Adam a hard stare. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘They were concerned about herring stocks,’ explained Adam. ‘I told them about global warming.’
‘Just my luck,’ groaned Calico Jack. ‘Finally get to meet my grandson and he turns out to be a gibbering idiot.’
‘I’m not a gibbering idiot,’ said Adam. ‘Well, at least I don’t think I am. What does “gibbering” mean?’
‘I’m too old for this,’ said Jack, ignoring the question, as was his habit. ‘I remember your father was interested in some kind of nonsense about talking to animals. But I thought better of him than to expect he’d make his son believe the same crackpot ideas.’
‘It’s not –’ Adam began. But he was interrupted by a chattering from behind. Simia had just discovered that the Doctor had not returned with Adam and wanted to know why. She stormed up to him and tugged hard at his arm.
‘Where is he?’ she demanded. ‘What have you done with him?’
Adam was immediately on the defensive.
‘It wasn’t my fault! He walked into a trap!’
‘A trap. What were you doing leading him into a trap?’
‘I didn’t. We were in the wood and –’
‘A wood?’ This made Simia angrier. ‘You went into a wood without me? Me, Simia, who can climb a tree faster than you can run down the street. I could have warned you.’
‘We didn’t know –’
‘Woah! What’s going on here?’ interjected his grandad, who had been watching, though obviously not understanding, the exchange with open-mouthed amazement.
Simia looked at him and then at Adam. Adam realised he’d broken the Doctor’s golden rule and revealed his ability to communicate with animals. He didn’t know what to do: should he trust his grandfather? For the first time the Doctor wasn’t there to tell him what to do. He was going to have to make up his own mind.
‘Are you really talking to him?’ said his grandfather.
‘Simia’s a her,’ Adam explained.
‘Let’s not split hairs, Adam,’ said Calico Jack. ‘You were talking to a monkey. What was he – I mean, she – saying? Did she want a banana?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Adam.
‘Well, what exactly, then?’
‘Actually,’ said Adam awkwardly, ‘she was giving me a telling-off.’
‘Nothing at all about bananas?’
Adam shook his head. Calico Jack was lost in thought for a moment. Then he started chuckling.
‘You know, Adam, this opens up an awful lot of possibilities.’
‘Does it?’
‘A good criminal could make a lot of money if he could talk to animals.’
‘But you said you were retired.’
‘Did I? I thought I said I was taking a vacation.’
‘You said you were going straight,’ said Adam firmly. ‘I remember.’
‘Overrated thing, memory,’ muttered Calico Jack, ‘as I remember pointing out to the last witness to pick me out of an identity parade. I . . . ugh!’
‘Ugh?’ said Adam.
‘Damned ants everywhere,’ said Adam’s grandfather, raising his boot.
‘Stop!’ Adam shouted.
‘What for?’
‘You’re about to step on the Special Ant Service.’
Calico Jack was incredulous. ‘Ants! You can talk to ants too!’
‘Communicate,’ Adam corrected him, and he bent down. General Lepti marched on to his hand.
‘General Lepti and the Special Ant Service returning to base!’ signalled the ant.
‘Any casualties?’ asked Adam anxiously.
‘A couple of minor thorax injuries and a punctured abdomen. The two enemies were last seen jumping into a pond.’
‘Thank you, General,’ said Adam.
‘Permission to go below deck and eat some leaves,’ requested General Lepti.
‘Permission granted!’
At a command from their chief, the platoon of army ants disa
ppeared below deck. Having witnessed the exchange with the ant, Adam’s grandfather’s mouth dropped even wider than before.
‘Lucky thing I didn’t stamp on your friends,’ he said finally.
‘Very lucky,’ agreed Adam. ‘For you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. You’d be no match for General Lepti’s platoon,’ Adam explained. ‘They’d have overpowered you in less than a minute. Army ants can disable any creature that gets in their path. They’d swarm up your legs, biting and stinging. You’d be helpless within a couple of minutes.’
‘Could they do that to anyone – say, just for the sake of argument, a security guard in a bank?’
‘You said you were retired.’
‘So I did, so I did,’ the old man agreed. ‘But you can’t stop your brain from wondering, can you? It’s only natural.’
‘I suppose,’ said Adam. ‘But the Doctor would be very angry if he thought that his scientific work was being used for criminal purposes.’
‘The Doctor,’ said Calico Jack, remembering. ‘What are we doing sitting about chatting? We need to –’
PHEEP! PHEEP! PHEEP!
Adam looked round. Rushing across the wharf towards the Ark of the Parabola was what appeared to be the entire Buenos Sueños Police Force – again.
Adam turned back.
‘Calico Jack? Grandad?’
There was no reply. Calico Jack wasn’t answering to any name now. He’d vanished, leaving Adam to face the police all alone.
.
CHAPTER 19
While the rest of the police force stayed at the side of the wharf, Chief of Police Grivas, accompanied by Officer Grivas, strode up the gangplank towards Adam.
‘Hand him over,’ he growled, pausing to light one of his fat cigars. Even in the open air, Adam could taste its foul black smoke.
‘Hand who over?’ he said nervously.
‘Harbouring an escaped convict is a very serious crime according to the Buenos Sueños Crime and Punishment Code.’
Adam gulped. They knew about his grandfather already.
‘Did you see that?’ said Chief Grivas, who had interrogated many suspects in his time. ‘That was a gulp of guilt.’
‘It wasn’t,’ Adam protested. ‘I don’t know where Calico Jack is, I promise you.’
A broad smile broke out on the face of Chief Grivas. ‘Who said anything about Calico Jack, chico?’
Adam was horrified.
‘I was going to show you this –’ the Chief of Police pulled a photo of Adam’s grandfather from the top pocket of his uniform ‘– but now I see that I don’t have to. Tell us where Calico Jack is and perhaps things will not be so bad for you.’
Adam opened his mouth to speak. Then closed it. Then opened it again.
As Chief Grivas took a long puff on his cigar and stared hard at Adam, two green shapes swooped down and landed on the barrel next to him.
‘I said, I said, I said, are you a policeman?’ squawked Gogo.
‘Shouldn’t it be “I say, I say, I say”?’ Pozzo cawed.
‘I’m speaking in the past tense,’ explained Gogo.
‘I was in the past tense,’ said Pozzo. ‘But then I stopped worrying and learned to relax.’
The parrots paused for some applause. Instead, after a nod from the Chief of Police, who was obviously above dealing with birds himself, Officer Grivas took a wary step towards them.
‘Shoo!’ he said.
‘Shoe to you,’ Gogo chirped back.
‘And socks too,’ added Pozzo.
‘Go away!’ ordered Officer Grivas, waving his hands.
‘Which way?’ asked Gogo, stroking his crest with his wing.
‘I warn you, parrots,’ said Officer Grivas, ‘if you don’t fly away, you’ll soon be under arrest.’
‘I’m exhausted,’ cheeped Pozzo. ‘A rest is just what I could do with.’
Chief Grivas, furious at seeing one of his officers being outwitted by two cheeky parrots, could resist no longer. Forgetting his dignity for a moment, he pulled his cigar from his mouth and prodded it at Gogo and Pozzo, who wisely fluttered just out of reach.
‘Listen, parrots,’ he said threateningly. ‘This is Buenos Sueños. And in Buenos Sueños all parrots should say, “Who’s a pretty boy, then?”’
Gogo and Pozzo looked at each other and shook their beaks.
‘Why would we say that?’ said Gogo.
‘When you’re so old and ugly,’ explained Pozzo.
Chief Grivas secretly spent many hours preening in front of a mirror he kept in his desk back at police headquarters, and he was not prepared to tolerate being insulted by parrots. He reached for his gun.
Gogo and Pozzo decided that it was time to bring their act to an end. Before the Chief of Police could take aim, they flew high up into the rigging.
Adam watched, wishing that he could do the same, as Chief Grivas turned grimly towards him.
‘Back to where we were before we were so rudely interrupted, chico. Tell me where Calico Jack is and tell me now.’
Adam didn’t know what to say.
‘Er . . . um . . . ah . . .’
Chief Grivas continued to stare.
‘Ah . . . er . . . um . . .’
Changing the order of his meaningless noises didn’t seem to help, but Adam was willing to give it a go anyway.
‘Last chance, chico,’ said Chief Grivas. ‘Or it’s prison –’
‘Holy moly, jeepers creepers, Mason Dixon and pretzels!’
Standing on deck was a fat man wearing sunglasses, a T-shirt and a pair of bright Bermuda shorts, with a camera dangling from his neck. Adam had no idea where he had come from.
He took one look at the police officers.
‘Stars and stripes, ticker tape and the great plains, am I glad to see you!’ he said, proffering a paw-like hand in the direction of Chief Grivas.
‘We are in the middle of an interrogation,’ said Grivas icily. ‘Please go –’
‘Clackburger. Wyoming T. Clackburger III,’ said Wyoming T. Clackburger, grasping the Chief of Police’s hand and shaking it hard. ‘Mighty pleased to make your acquaintance.’
‘I am –’ Chief Grivas began.
‘The answer to my prayers,’ finished Wyoming T. Clackburger III. ‘I tell you, I’ve been wandering round this here town for three days trying to find somewhere to buy a chilli dog, burger and fries. What is it about you foreigners? Don’t you like grease and fat?’
‘We like vegetables,’ said Officer Grivas.
‘Vegetables.’ Clackburger scratched his head in confusion. ‘You can eat them?’
Officer Grivas nodded.
‘Goodness gracious, great balls of fire! But they’ve been in the ground with insects and grubs. That can’t be healthy. You need to get munching on an all-American chilli dog and burger and supersize fries with extra mayo. Then maybe y’all would look like people instead of sticks.’
Chief Grivas scrutinised Wyoming T. Clackburger suspiciously.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I told ya,’ answered Clackburger, ‘I was looking for a hot dog . . .’
‘On a boat?’ Chief Grivas’s eyes narrowed.
‘I’ve looked everywhere else,’ Clackburger explained, waving his hands impatiently in the air. ‘I gotta tell you, a-wop-bop-a-loo-lop-a-lop-bamboo, you gotta improve your provision when it comes to fast-food catering. I’m an American with an appetite. I can’t be waiting for vegetables to grow. I need meat now!’
‘You expect me to believe this preposterous story,’ said Chief Grivas.
‘Listen, buddy,’ said Wyoming T. Clackburger III, prodding a finger firmly in Chief Grivas’s chest. ‘If it’s a matter of money, I can
give you money. Just get me a chilli dog. Here.’ He reached into his back pocket. ‘Hey! What’s going on here?’ he shouted angrily. ‘Someone’s stolen my wallet. I’m an American tourist who’s been the victim of a robbery.’
‘Are you really a tourist?’ said Chief Grivas sceptically. ‘They don’t normally come to Buenos Sueños.’
‘He does look like a tourist,’ Officer Grivas observed. ‘Señor Gozo at the tourist information kiosk told me they wear horrible shorts and take photographs of everything and they are always losing their wallets.’
‘That’s what he told me too,’ added Adam.
‘Silence!’ Officer Grivas shouted at him.
Chief Grivas looked at Wyoming T. Clackburger and weighed up the evidence.
‘Say full-fat cheese!’ said Clackburger, and the flash of a camera blinded the two policemen.
The photograph finally convinced the Chief of Police.
‘I’ll show this picture to my daughter Mary-Beth Jo Honey-Pie when I get back to the States,’ said Wyoming T. Clackburger. ‘A picture of the two guys who rushed off to find the wallet of a helpless American tourist in a strange fat-free land.’
‘Report your loss to the police station tomorrow morning, señor. I am now going to search this ship for an escaped convict,’ the Chief of Police thundered.
Adam gulped. If Chief Grivas searched the Ark of the Parabola, not only would he find his grandfather, he would also find the Arkonauts. And Adam was pretty sure that he’d find some reason for impounding them all, as he had Sniffage.
Wyoming T. Clackburger III seemed to notice Adam for the first time.
‘I suppose they’ve shown you their search warrant, have they, kid?’
‘Their search warrant?’ Adam repeated. ‘No.’
‘Well, I ain’t no high-paid Manhattan lawyer, but, if I was, then I might say that without a search warrant they can’t search the ship.’
‘What are you talking about?’ interrupted Chief Grivas. ‘No such provision is required by the Buenos Sueños Crime and Punishment Code.’
Clackburger shook his head.
‘Maybe not, Chief.’ And he walked to the rail and looked over the side.
‘However, from what I can tell, we’re in the water about a metre outside of Buenos Sueños. Here it’s the law of the sea.’
Adam and the Arkonauts Page 11
