Breakfast at Bugs Moran’s café was a feast. Pancakes covered in syrup were followed by bacon and scrambled eggs, washed down with as much coffee as Felix and Curly could drink. Bugs arrived just before seven thirty. He was all smiles as he opened up the garage he owned next door. Curly and Felix left the café and met with Bugs and a dozen of his gang in a hidden back room. The room was piled high with cases of whiskey, brandy, vodka, pretty much any type of alcohol available in the 1920s.
“And this, gentlemen, is how to make a fortune in Chicago!” The men laughed and began sorting the cases ready for delivery to their customers.
“The lorries will be here at eight thirty. Make sure it’s all ready to go. I’m off to see the lady next door for some breakfast.” Bugs smiled at the boys and walked off.
Curly got stuck in. He lifted box after box, checked it on the list and placed it in its proper place. Felix stood in the doorway checking his watch every few minutes.
“What’s up with you?” asked Curly.
“Nothing! I just think we need to get out of here soon,” stuttered Felix.
“Chicken! Come on give us a hand” laughed Curly. Felix checked his watch again, it was five to eight.
“Curly, come on!” Felix insisted. Curly rolled his eyes at his new found gangster friends and carried on shifting the liquor.
“Bugs wants us,” screamed Felix. Curly, not wanting to disappoint, put down the box of brandy he was carrying and rushed to the door. Curly straightened his school blazer and tie and strode proudly into the café. Felix looked up and down the street. A line of men rounded the corner and marched towards the café and garage. They were policemen!
Felix ran into the café. “It’s the police!” he shouted. Bugs ran to the window. It was too late. The policemen were approaching the garage. The gangster decided to cut his losses and run. He rushed into the kitchen and made his escape through the back door.
“Sit down!” Felix ordered. Curly grinned and made his way to the window to watch the police raid. Felix placed a boiled sweet in his mouth. He scanned the room for pictures and the object they could use to return home. At the back he saw a nice painting of an Irish landscape through which he could make his escape if it all went wrong. Suddenly, he saw it, a CCTV camera on a shelf just behind the serving counter.
“Curly come here! We have to go.” Felix was bright red with frustration at his unwanted companion.
“The pigs have got Bug’s men,” Curly informed Felix, but Felix already knew what was about to happen. The police had ordered the gangsters out of the liquor store and into the garage, there they were lined up facing the wall. Felix could hear a commotion in the kitchen. He could see a few of Bug’s men, who had managed to escape, disguising themselves as kitchen workers.
The thunder of machine gun fire shattered the tense silence in the street. Curly backed away from the window towards Felix. He was as white as a sheet and trembling with fear. Blood started to trickle out of the garage and into the street. Two of the policemen walked calmly to the café window. They pointed their machine guns in to the café, smiled and opened fire.
Felix rugby tackled Curly into one of the café’s dining booths. Glass, dust and bullets filled the room. Curly screamed as a bullet pierced his arm. Blood sprayed over Felix’s blazer and shirt. The boys rolled, hit a picture on the wall and were gone.
25
The only pupils on Queen Anne’s School trip to Berlin that were looking forward to their visit to the Pergamon Museum were Tom and Poppy. Luther was nervous about taking his first planned journey as the Keeper. Mr Taylor gave the usual stern teacher warning about being sent home if you misbehaved. He was a History teacher, and grinned as the pupils groaned when he handed out complicated worksheets they had to complete during the three hours they would spend at the museum.
Poppy and Tom led Luther up the steps to the main door. Mr Taylor shook his head as he handed them their entrance tickets.
“No nonsense from you or your cousin Matthews,” he growled. The trio walked quickly to the map of the museum on a pillar in the entrance hall.
“It’s all in foreign!” stated Tom.
“I bet Luther can read it,” smiled Poppy.
“It’s this way,” said Luther. He was completely taken by surprise at his ability to read German. “The Book?” he asked. Poppy and Tom nodded before climbing to the second floor and the Greek exhibition.
They were greeted by a friendly German attendant. “She said don’t touch,” explained Luther. They walked up and down the cabinets full of Greek pottery and artefacts.
“What on earth are we looking for?” Tom was confused by all the pictures on the pots that depicted all sorts of goings on in ancient Greece.
“Look for anything with a dogs head,” ordered Poppy.
Tom laughed. “What’s so funny?” asked Luther. Tom pointed to a huge poster on the wall behind the attendant. There was a huge picture of a bearded man dressed in a white toga sitting at a stone desk writing. Above him it told them he was Hesiod. Apparently he had written the most accepted account of the beginnings of things.
“Sounds like a good place to start,” smiled Tom. “Let’s go and visit old Hesiod!” He handed out the boiled sweets, explaining to Luther that these would stop him from passing out whenever he travelled. They all linked hands. They ran straight at the startled attendant, who dived out of their way. Luther jumped at the wall and they were on their way.
26
Felix was once again waiting for Curly to wake up. The coloured beams of the time vortex never failed to amaze Felix. He tried to take in a few more of the faces that flew by. He was sure he saw Poppy and Tom flying in the opposite direction with a funny looking boy wearing a stripy onesie. He shook his head. He thought he must be seeing things. Felix giggled to himself as he glanced at Curly, the hard knock thug was dribbling in his sleep.
Curly grabbed his leg instinctively as he awoke. He was expecting his hand to be covered in blood but there was nothing. “What’s going on?” he screamed in bewilderment at Felix.
“Magic!” replied Felix. “I told you I have special powers.”
“It IS all a dream, isn’t it?” asked Curly.
“If you insist,” said Felix.
“I can’t have been shot by a cop in Chicago.” Curly was more confused than he normally was.
“We were in the Valentine Day Massacre,” stated Felix. “Those cops were Al Capone’s men putting an end to the last real competition they had for control of Chicago.”
“You’re talking rubbish. It’s a dream.” Curly swung a punch at Felix in helpless frustration.
“Have one of these,” said Felix. He handed Curly a boiled sweet and explained it would stop him from passing out again. Curly sucked sulkily on the sweet but still couldn’t believe what he was being told.
It was dark wherever they had ended up. The ground seemed to be moving slowly from side to side and up and down. Twinkling lights hung from a lamp post above them. Curly looked dazed. Felix quickly got his bearings, realised they were on a ship, and pushed Curly into a lifeboat. He pulled the tarpaulin back over the boat and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Where are we?” whispered Curly. Even he realised the need for secrecy until they knew exactly what they were involved in this time.
“Felix lifted their cover a little, enough to let in some light. He opened the Book and read:
Location RMS Titanic, Atlantic Ocean
Date 14th April 1912
Languages Too many to list!
“Well, we’ve really done it this time!” whispered Felix.
“Where are we?” Curly asked with a glint of panic in his eyes. He was freezing and wanted to know if he could get warm inside.
“Well if we are still here in a few hours we are getting wet!” Felix slapped Curly on the back, grabbed his guitar case and jumped back on to the deck.
“You have got to be joking,” stuttered Curly. The first thing he saw when he poked his head from
under the tarpaulin was a white ship’s life buoy with the word ‘TITANIC’ written in big blue letters around it’s circumference. “Please tell me this is still a dream!”
“This is still a dream!” Felix giggled as he led the way through a door and into a crew room. Hanging up on the wall were five long black overcoats. Felix threw one to Curly who put it straight on, it was a little big but he didn’t care - it was warm. Felix used his sword to cut off the bottom of the coat. He had tried walking but his feet kept getting caught in the excess material. In the pockets of both coats were woollen hats and gloves that the boys eagerly used to keep out the cold. They returned to the deserted deck. The mist swirled around the ship as it cut through the waves of the North Atlantic Ocean. The only signs of life were the shadows inside the wheelhouse.
Felix sat on a bench beneath a light and opened The Book of Words. He was amazed to see four red swords on the map. The first thought that ran through his mind was that if there were four Guardians there must be a Keeper aboard the Titanic.
“Come on, we have friends here,” Felix said. Curly was busy looking ahead of the ship, he had a look of panic on his face. “What’s up?” Felix asked.
“I’m looking for that flaming iceberg,” snarled Curly. “Can’t see a thing through this fog!”
Felix led him inside. The pair went down deck after deck until Felix stopped at a wooden door. On it was a small sign that read ‘Crew Quarters. No Entry’. The boys could hear shuffling on the other side of the door. Felix slowly pushed the door open. There stood four men dressed in dinner suits, complete with black bow ties, scratching their ears. The four of them had a tight grip on musical instrument cases. Felix tapped his guitar case and said, “I bet mine’s better than yours!”
“What are you doing?” Curly asked. Felix unzipped his guitar case and drew his Keeper’s sword. The four men took a step backwards and pulled their Guardians’ sabres from their instrument cases. The only person not smiling was Curly.
“Why have you all got swords? Wake me up Jones and quickly!” Curly began backing up the corridor at the sight of the silver weapons.
“Why are you all together?” asked Felix. “You know that’s dangerous, don’t you?”
“We are the ship’s band,” replied their leader. “I’m Wallace Hartley and these are some of my band.”
“But you’re all Guardians!” whispered Felix. “Do you know what that means?”
“The skipper, Captain Smith, is the Keeper. We have travelled with him as he had a feeling something may go wrong,” continued Wallace.
“But you being together can allow the Brethren to find the Keeper,” said Felix.
“Don’t be silly,” snapped Wallace. “We’ve been together before and nothing has happened.”
“We’ll see!” Felix rolled his eyes. “Where is Captain Smith now?”
“He’s asleep in his cabin,” replied Wallace. “He’s on watch in the morning.”
“Go to his cabin and get him to the bridge,” ordered Felix. “With me on board he has no weapon.”
“What? He is the best swordsman of all of us!” Wallace looked worried as he led his band up a few decks to the Captain’s cabin.
“Why can’t we just go back home?” cried Curly.
“Don’t you want to try and save all these people?” said Felix. “We know what is about to happen, they haven’t got a clue.” The pair made their way up to the bridge. They were met by Captain Smith, his Guardians stood in a line behind him. He held up his Book, “I can’t read any of this now!” he shouted. Felix explained why that was the case.
“What do you think is about to happen?” the stern looking man asked. Felix insisted what he was about to say was the truth and nothing but the truth and he would swear on whatever grave or religious book the captain wanted that it was all true. Felix went on to tell his shocked audience what he knew was about to happen to the ‘unsinkable’ Titanic.
“Head south west, away from these reported icebergs!” bellowed Captain Smith. The captain knew Felix was telling the truth and that he had to try and save his passengers and crew. The ship’s crew began their procedures for changes in direction. Whistles and bells sounded as instructions were relayed to various parts of the ship. The ship began to turn and head south west.
“That should see us safe!” announced the captain. The Titanic sailed peacefully through the freezing ocean and the captain and his Guardians returned to their cabins. A relieved Felix and Curly were given a spare cabin in the crew quarters. They pulled the woollen blankets over their heads and in seconds they were asleep.
27
Luther was still mesmerised by the kaleidoscope of colours in the vortex. Tom and Poppy took the journey in their stride. This was planned, they knew where they were going. All they hoped was that the three of them could find out how the Typhon had begun. Once they had done that they could try and put an end to them before they started to help the Brethren. Poppy thought it would all work out as planned, but Tom knew that anything involving The Book of Words could spell trouble, and usually did.
They landed on a hard surface. It was a marble slab in the middle of a ring of white pillars. In the middle of the ring of columns was a staircase that led down to a subterranean building. The whole structure sat at the top of a rugged, rocky hill. The view was spectacular. Olive groves lined the hills surrounding them and in the valleys farmers were busy tending their well-ordered crops. At the head of the valley lay a large town. The scorching sun beat down on their heads. Luther opened the Book. It read:
Location Mount Helicon, Ancient Greece
Date 603 BC
Languages Ancient Greek
“Well it looks like we’re in the right place,” stated Luther.
“Where is everyone?” asked Tom.
“This is a temple, I think,” said Luther as he flicked through page after page of information. “The muses that inspired Hesiod live here.”
“Muses?” asked Tom.
“Pretty women that listen and inspire creative people,” replied Luther. He read it straight from the Book. “Apparently Hesiod came here to be inspired!”
“Is he here being inspired now?” Poppy was becoming inpatient at the lack of action. “Come on let’s get down there.” She drew her sword and turned towards the steps.
“No need for that young girl, this is a place of peace and tranquillity,” said a bearded man as he climbed to the top of the staircase. Luther was amazed that he was able to translate from Ancient Greek into English. Introductions were made, they had found the right man. It was Hesiod.
“Where are the Typhon?” Poppy just wanted the answers they needed. She wasn’t interested in the countryside or history of the area.
“The what?” Hesiod asked. Once again Luther translated. “I have no idea who the Typhon are. Typhon is one of our gods. He is bad news. His worshippers want power.”
“Where can we find them?” Poppy snapped. She was getting really impatient now.
“There are pockets of them everywhere,” replied the old man.
Luther explained why they were dressed strangely and wanted to find the Typhon. Hesiod listened intently. He showed no emotion or surprise as Luther talked of time travel and the Brethren. Hesiod nodded as Luther spoke and didn’t interrupt him once to ask questions.
Hesiod laughed as he prepared to answer the three travellers. “Your journey may be in vain my young friends. The followers of Typhon seem to have the same goal in your time as they have now. They try to find the answers they need to gain power.”
“But Typhon is a Greek god!” said Tom.
“My dear boy, from ages past many myths and legends are passed from father to son. The stories move from place to place and change according to local beliefs and culture.”
“But Typhon is a Greek god!” said Tom again.
“He is indeed but as I said many of the gods are from other places and civilisations. Many of the myths have travelled countless miles before being adopte
d by people as a true reflection of their origins and religion. Typhon is a Greek god but his origin was far from here in Greece. I’m afraid you will have to travel to that place to stop the Typhon from being an enemy of good.”
“Where did the story of Typhon come from?” asked Luther.
“From the South. The people of the deserts brought the stories of the gods. People like me have woven them into our own mythology to become part of our teachings for future generations.”
“South, deserts, it must be Egypt,” declared Poppy.
“How are we going to get there?” asked Luther.
“Have you any pictures from the desert?” Tom rolled his eyes at his friends. “I’ll get us there, don’t you worry!”
“In the temple are some stones said to have come from these people,” said Hesiod. He led them down the steps. Scantily clad women sat around the first room they walked through. Tom was momentarily distracted from their mission. Hesiod took them into the next room. An altar like structure stood in the centre of the space. Statues of gods lined the walls and on a shelf at the far end of the room sat some flat stones.
Hesiod gently picked up the stones to reveal Egyptian hieroglyphs. The pictures depicted a scene of a land being torn in two by feuding figures, one side darkness and one side light.
“Horus and Seth!” whispered Poppy.
Hesiod placed another stone next to it. This time it showed a brighter scene of the harvest. Three royal figures stood over the land, each with a hand on a book.
“Osiris, Seth and Isis?” suggested Tom.
“They’ve got a book! I think that’s our best bet,” said Poppy.
“Good luck brave travellers,” said Hesiod. Tom gave out the boiled sweets. Poppy placed the stone on the marble floor. Luther put his arms round the Guardians and jumped.
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Felix Jones and The Dawn Of The Brethren Page 8
