Circus of Thieves on the Rampage

by William Sutcliffe

  Then there was Cissy Noodles and her swimming poodles. Cissy now ran Alaska’s most popular chain of Mongolian Barbecue restaurants, but Alaska was going to be just that little bit hungrier from now on, because, yes, Noodles and her oodles of poodles were going home.

  The Aquabats of Arabia were still together, but now working as car mechanics in Wigan. They signed up, too, quicker than you can say spark plug.

  Bunny Weasel and her synchronised otters had fallen on hard times. She was now a prison officer in Ushuaia, which is the southernmost prison in the world, at the very bottom of Argentina. She’d been locked up there for pickpocketing, but, following a bet with a drunken prison guard about whether she could teach a cockroach to do a dance routine (which she won (it was a foxtrot)), she’d switched places with the guard, who was now serving out the rest of her sentence. But there was no way of knowing what would happen to that foolish prison guard now, because Bunny was on her way to the Oh, Wow!

  Ruggles Pynchon, the magician-recluse, was the hardest to find. Eventually, via his publisher,20 Queenie tracked down a top-secret phone number and called him. At the moment he picked up, he was inside an air-conditioning shaft in the Kremlin,21 where he’d been working for several months as a spy. Under the code name The Kremlin Gremlin, he’d been sneaking around hiding biros, moving car keys, unmatching socks in the president’s sock drawer, and misaligning the perforations on toilet rolls. It was all very top secret – a mission known only to those in MI6 with super-ultra-mega-whopper security clearance level 17. But, when he got the call from Queenie, that was it. Bye-bye civil service pension. Ruggles was off. And Queenie Bombazine’s Ecstatic Aquatic Splashtastic Circus of the Century was on!

  Three and a half seconds after the tickets went on sale, every single one was sold. Even the seats at the very back, from where you could only see the stage through a telescope.

  The mountain tandem

  GRANNY LED HANNAH down to her basement. It was a dark, cobwebby place that smelt of seaweed and old trainers, which is slightly confusing, since on this occasion time was behaving properly and heading politely forward in an orderly way as it was taught to do in school. Although, having said that, going down into Granny’s basement was a bit like going into the past, since it was stacked to the ceiling with very old things from very long ago, all of which belonged in either a museum or the bin.22

  In among the mounds of dusty artefacts from Granny’s past, one object stood out. It stood out because it was sparkling clean, glistening with up-to-dateness.

  It was a bike. No ordinary bike, but a tandem. And no ordinary tandem, either, but what you would have to call a mountain tandem. It had massive chunky tyres, wide chunky mudguards, chunky pedals, chunky handlebars, a chunky bell, and chunks of chunks bolted onto the chunky frame just for the sheer chunkiness of it. This bike was chunky.

  ‘I customised it myself,’ said Granny. ‘Brought it up to date for our trip.’

  ‘But how did you know we were going on a trip?’

  ‘Because I knew you were going to be told the truth about your past on your twelfth birthday, and I know you’re not the kind of girl to take something like that lying down. You’re not even the kind of girl to take it standing up. You’re the kind of girl to go straight round to her granny’s house demanding to know the truth and, if what she tells you doesn’t stack up, insisting on setting off on a trip to find out what needs to be found out. That’s the kind of girl you are. And it’s the kind of girl your mother was, too. So I got this bike ready as your birthday present. It used to be Wendy and Wanda’s.’

  ‘It’s fantastic!’ said Hannah. ‘I love it! Thank you!’

  ‘Happy Birthday my love.’

  They hugged a big size twelve birthday hug, but not for long. There wasn’t time.

  ‘So, lets go!’ said Hannah

  ‘Let’s go!’

  Hannah and Granny heaved the bike up from the basement. They were just about to climb on when an important question occurred to Hannah.

  ‘Wait!’ she said. ‘Where are we actually going?’

  ‘To find your father. To find Billy.’

  ‘I know that, but where? We don’t know who my father is and we don’t know where Billy is.’

  ‘Aaah,’ said Granny, ‘we don’t know where they are now, but I’m pretty sure where they will be this weekend.’

  ‘How could you possibly know that?’

  ‘I’ve had a text message from an old friend of mine. She’s coming out of retirement. She’s putting on a comeback show. And, when she puts on a show, everyone who has anything to do with any circus anywhere goes along to watch.’

  This idea excited Granny so much that she trembled and quivered and gesticulated and knocked the bike over, but the bike was so chunky it just laughed and said, ‘Ha! I didn’t even feel that! Not a thing!’

  ‘Besides,’ said Granny, ‘this friend of mine has some history with your father. Or, rather, with one of your fathers. Or one of the people who might be your father.’

  ‘You’re being very confusing,’ said Hannah, as she picked up the bike.

  ‘My friend is called Queenie Bombazine and Armitage Shank detests her. She’s his oldest enemy. So I’m sure he’ll be at her comeback show, trying to get revenge of some sort. I just know it. Sure as eggs is eggs.’23

  ‘And do you think Billy will be with him?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Oh, Wow!’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Where the show is going to be.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Hannah, giving Granny an I-love-you-but-you’re-bonkers look.

  ‘But you just said it!’

  ‘Said what?’

  ‘The Oh, Wow! That’s where they’ll be.’

  ‘Granny, I think you might be having a sugar crash. You’re just talking complete gibberish.’

  ‘The Oh, Wow! Centre. The massive, pointless tent in the middle of nowhere! That’s where Queenie’s putting on her circus! I’ve got us tickets already.’

  ‘Oh, great!’

  ‘Oh, Wow!’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘OK! So let’s go!’

  ‘Let’s go.’

  And off they went, heading directly for the middle of nowhere, the bike laughing again as they set off, saying, ‘Two of you? Is that all? I could take three! I could take five! I could take sixty-eight! Feel my chunks! Go on, feel my chunks!’

  The rampage begins!

  AT EXACTLY THE SAME MOMENT, Armitage and Billy were also setting off. Yes, exactly the same moment. Spooky, isn’t it, when connected things happen in different places at the same time? Yes, the same time! I’m scaring myself now. I’m going to have to hide under the sofa for a bit and eat a biscuit,24 until I’ve calmed down.

  They travelled all of three centimetres before encountering their first problem. An angry head, sticking out of the window of a caravan, yelled in an angry voice: ‘Oi! Where do you think you’re going? I know that outfit! You’re on the rampage! What’s going on?’

  It was Frank, the clown. Or maybe it was Hank, the other clown.

  ‘Are you leaving us behind?’ yelled another angry voice, from out of the same window.

  This was Hank. Or maybe Frank.

  ‘Ow! My neck!’ yelled Hank/Frank.

  ‘What’s wrong with your neck?’ yelled Frank/Hank.

  ‘I had this window first.’

  ‘Well, I had it second.’

  ‘It’s not big enough for two!’

  ‘Yes it is!’

  ‘No it isn’t!’

  ‘Yes it is! Why are you so selfish?’

  ‘Why are you so selfish?’

  ‘Why are you so selfish?’

  ‘Why can’t you use the other window?’

  ‘Why can’t you use the other window?’

  ‘Hong heuuurrghhhhh!’ yelled someone else, now sticking his head out of the window of another caravan. This was Maurice: professional acrobat, profe
ssional Frenchman. ‘What’s going on! I’m in ze meedle of a massage! Can’t an ‘umble genius of strrrength and dexterity ‘ave a moment’s peace?’

  ‘Billy and Armitage are going on the rampage!’ yelled Hank and Frank together. ‘Without us!’

  ‘There’s no need to be suspicious,’ said Armitage. ‘It’s just a little father and son bonding trip.’

  ‘Hah!’ said Fingers O’Boyle, the magician who was so light-fingered his fingers sometimes almost floated away. He was at that moment returning from his morning swim, dressed in a strikingly simple outfit, which seemed to consist of one leaf.25 ‘When a criminal tells you not to be suspicious, it’s time to be very suspicious. What are you up to, Shank?’

  ‘Up to?’ said Armitage, in his most innocent voice (which was in fact not very innocent at all). ‘I simply think it’s time to teach the boy some rudiments of rampage technique. That’s all. Just a spot of harmless practice.’

  ‘I don’t trust you,’ said Fingers.

  ‘I don’t trust you,’ said Maurice.

  ‘I don’t trust you,’ said Hank (or maybe it was Frank).

  ‘I don’t trust you,’ said Frank (or maybe it was Hank).

  ‘I don’t trust anyone,’ said Irrrrrena, Maurice’s assistant, peeping26 out of the front door of her caravan.

  ‘Who doesn’t trust who?’ said Jesse, emerging from underneath the enormous lorry, smeared in oil. Jesse was the only person, apart from Armitage, who was allowed to touch the enormous lorry. Armitage would have done the repairs himself, except that he didn’t know how, and couldn’t bear the idea of getting his clothes dirty. Jesse was also the world’s most reluctant human cannonball.

  ‘Of course you don’t trust me,’ said Armitage. ‘Only a fool would trust me. I’m a professional cheat and a sneak and a liar and a thief. What kind of a fool would trust me?’

  ‘I would,’ said Jesse.

  ‘Thank you, Jesse. Excellent. Now keep up the good work, everyone. I’m just taking Billy on a short and entirely harmless rampage practice, and we’ll be back before you know it. Bye!’

  And off they went.

  ‘So this is it?’ said Billy, after a mile or so. ‘This is a rampage?’

  ‘Mmm,’ replied Armitage, whose entire attention was focused on his satnav. ‘We’re going to go down the B2893 for 2.1 miles, then down the A234 for 7.6 miles,27 onto the A18 for 32.4 miles, then we’ll turn onto the M1½ for 97 miles before turning onto the A16 for 7.1 miles, then the B8293 for 2.1 miles, and the B764 and the B983, then onto local roads which will lead us to our destination.’

  ‘That’s a rampage, is it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A real rampage or a practice rampage?’

  ‘A real one, of course! I just had to say something to put those idiots off the scent.’

  ‘I thought rampages were supposed to be . . . I don’t know . . . a bit wilder than this.’

  ‘No,’ said Armitage. ‘At least, not yet! HahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAhahahaha!’

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘Get what?’

  ‘Why are you laughing?’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake Billy. You have to learn the difference between a laugh and a cackle. You’re never going to get very far in the criminal underworld if you can’t even cackle. Listen. Copy me. HahahahahaHAHAHAHAhahahaha!’

  ‘Hahahhahahhahahaha!’

  ‘No, HahahahahaHAHAHAHAhahahaha!’

  ‘HahahahahHAHAhahahaha!’

  ‘Better. Try again. Hahahahahahahahaha HAHAHAHAHAhahahahahahaha!’

  ‘HahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahaha!’

  ‘Nearly. HahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAhahahhahahahahaha!’

  ‘HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!’

  ‘Too much,’ said Armitage, sternly. ‘Much too much. We can have another practice tomorrow.’

  ‘In forty metres, turn right,’ said the satnav, which was attached to the handlebars of Armitage’s scooter.

  Did I not mention the scooter? How silly of me.

  Even though it wounded Armitage to the core to be parted for even a day from his beloved lorry, he had decided that for this particular rampage a less enormous mode of transport would be needed. To carry out his dastardly plan, it was important that he and Billy didn’t draw attention to themselves, so enormousness was out. As a result, Armitage was on a scooter and Billy was riding Narcissus.

  Only as they were turning onto the M1½, with a busload of children staring and pointing at them, did it occur to Armitage that these modes of transport weren’t exactly helping them blend into the background, either.

  ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘We’re going to have to do something about that camel. He’s too circussy. People are noticing us.’

  Narcissus, who even for a camel was quick to take offence, gargled up a tennis-ball-sized dollop of camel goo and sent it with his usual perfect aim onto the screen of Armitage’s satnav.

  ‘MY SATNAV!’ yelled Armitage. ‘He’s gooed my satnav!’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Billy, trying not to laugh.

  ‘I never liked that animal! Not one bit!’

  ‘I think it’s mutual,’ said Billy.

  ‘In twebblebbnety mebbles, tebble lebble,’ said the satnav.

  ‘He’s ruined it! That beast has bust my best batnav. I mean, satnav.’

  Billy felt a jerky tremble rise up into his legs from Narcissus’s hump. This, he knew, was a camel cackle. Silent, but unmistakable. Billy squeezed back with his knees, sharing the joke.

  On and on they went, rampaging very slowly in the direction of the middle of nowhere, with the satnav gargling out gooey and garbled directions. Armitage gave up on trying to get rid of Narcissus. If life had taught him one thing, it was this: don’t mess with that camel. If life had taught him one other thing, it was this: if you are going to mess with that camel, make sure you’re wearing an ankle-length, goo-proof plastic poncho and a motorbike helmet with the visor down. And Armitage did not have either of those items in his suitcase.

  Apart from the occasional cackle practice, Billy and Armitage travelled in silence, both of them lost in thought. Armitage was dreaming of the delicious revenge he was about to wreak on Queenie Bombazine. That woman needed someone to teach her a lesson – drag her back to earth – show her that she wasn’t half as special as she thought she was – and Armitage was the man for the job. This, he knew, was going to be His Finest Hour.

  Billy, meanwhile, was going over and over in his head the words of the letter hidden in his back pocket. His father was out of jail! He was coming to find him! Billy, finally, was going to be rescued from Armitage and saved from a life of crime. Better than that – better by a thousand times – he was going to see his father again. Armitage needed someone to teach him a lesson, drag him back to earth to show him that he wasn’t half as special as he thought he was – and Billy’s dad, the great Ernesto Espadrille, was the man for the job.

  If Ernesto found his way to the Oh, Wow! Centre on time, Armitage – for sure – would finally meet his dooooooooooooooom!

  Meanwhile, back at the campsite of Shank’s Impossible Circus, a meeting was taking place. Hank was banging a hammer on a table.

  ‘I call this meeting to order!’ yelled Hank.

  ‘Why should we listen to you?’ yelled Frank.

  ‘Because I’ve got the hammer.’

  ‘It’s not your hammer, it’s my hammer.’

  ‘Mine.’

  ‘Mine.’

  ‘Get off!’

  ‘You get off!’

  ‘I had it first.’

  ‘I had it first. I had it this morning.’

  ‘LISSSSSSSSTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!’ boomed Maurice, who was inordinately proud of his booming skills. As a young man, he came second in the annual Loire Valley Amateur Booming Contest, and to this day he was convinced that the winner had cheated. ‘Armitage ‘as gone on ze rrrrampage wizout us. ‘E’s up to somesing. ‘E’s got some snicky plin and ‘e’s trying to c
ut us out of ze prrrofits.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Irrrrrena, which is what Maurice had told her to say.

  ‘A snicky plin?’ said Fingers O’Boyle.

  ‘Yes! Ezzatly!’

  ‘Do you mean a sneaky plan?’ asked Fingers.

  ‘Yes! A snicky plin!’

  ‘We can’t let him do that,’ said Fingers. ‘We have to go after him.’

  ‘We can take ze enorrrmous lorry,’ said Maurice.

  ‘He’s right,’ said Irrrrrena.

  ‘I’ll drive!’ said Hank, who had always wanted to have a go on the enormous lorry.

  ‘No, I’ll drive!’ said Frank, who had also always wanted to have a go on the enormous lorry.

  ‘I will!’

  ‘No, I will!’

  ‘No, I will!’

  ‘No, I will!’

  ‘No, I will!’

  ‘No, I will!’

  ‘You’ll do what?’ said Jesse. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’re going to rampage after their rampage!’ said Fingers. ‘Now let’s get moving before it’s too late!’

  The million dollar question28

  HANNAH AND GRANNY WERE ALSO heading in the direction of the middle of nowhere, though via a different route, which took them over hill and down dale and through forests and along rivers and above crevasses and up cliffs and over mountains and between crags and across lakes and around sinkholes and beneath overhangs and down ski slopes and past bogs and alongside quick-sands and into motorway service stations. Hannah and Granny did not have a satnav.

  There was one other key difference between Hannah’s and Billy’s journeys to the Oh, Wow! Centre. Hannah and Granny didn’t travel in silence. They chatted and chatted and chatted, in particular about one particular question (the one valued by market experts at £621,920) that had been bothering Hannah ever since the strange details of her origins had been revealed to her.