The Curiosity Machine (8 page)

‘And she wouldn't shut up about the plans for the curiosity machine at breakfast,' Sam said. ‘She was going on as if they were the answer to all the problems of the world.'

Gerald opened his mouth to tell Sam about Sir Mason Green and his trillion-dollar offer, but it all seemed like too much effort. He laced his runners instead. ‘The thing that bugs me is the way Ruby and Felicity think I'm dumber than a bag of hammers,' he said. ‘Like I would even keep the coded note and the plans for the curiosity machine in my backpack.'

Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘Where are they, then?' he asked.

Gerald kneeled on his bed and slid his fingers under the frame of an oil painting that hung on the wall above his pillows. It was an island beach scene, and it swung out on concealed hinges.

‘A safe!' Sam climbed up next to Gerald to get a better look. Gerald twirled a large silver dial in the centre of the safe door—left, right and left again—and turned a stout black handle. The door popped open.

‘Cool!' Sam said. He leaned in closer. ‘What have you got stashed in there?'

Gerald reached inside and pulled out five brick-sized bundles of US dollars and Euros, and handed them to Sam.

Sam's eyes ballooned in their sockets. ‘What's this lot worth?'

‘I'm not sure,' Gerald said. ‘It was in there when I first opened the safe the day we arrived. A hundred thousand, maybe?'

Sam stared at the treasure trove of cash that he cradled in his arms. ‘You say that like it's no big thing.'

Gerald shrugged. ‘After a while the zeros just knock into each other. Okay, here it is.' He pulled out two zip-locked plastic bags from the rear of the safe and laid them on the bed. The smaller of the two contained the coded note from Jeremy Davey that Gerald had deciphered after escaping from the cellars beneath the Billionaire's Club a few weeks earlier.

Sam pulled the note from the bag and read the message aloud, ‘I have taken the infernal machine of Drebbel and consigned it to the depths but my conscience is ill at rest. I am fifty miles NE of Culpepper Island. I do not know if I deserve rescue so I rely on the judgment
of the one who finds this message. May your soul be raised on butterfly wings.' He grunted. ‘Do we even know where Culpepper Island is?'

Gerald took the note and folded it back into the plastic bag. ‘Don't know. Don't care. And as for this—' Gerald removed the larger sheet of paper and flattened its creases to reveal the plans for an enormously complicated contraption. The words The Curiosity Machine were written in neat capitals at the top. ‘I am reliably informed that Mason Green wants this,' Gerald said. ‘So that's a good reason to keep it locked away.' He went to put the plans back but Sam reached out and stopped him. ‘What do you think this thing does?' he asked, staring wide-eyed at the maze of cogs and arrows and flywheels drawn on the paper. ‘It looks amazing.'

Gerald wished he knew. He brushed Sam's hand from his arm. ‘Don't you start,' he said. He returned the two plastic bags to the safe, along with the bundles of cash, closed the door and spun the combination. ‘Come on, I'm starving. I have a strange hunger for bacon.' He bundled out the door with Sam close behind. They almost upended a maid's cleaning cart in their haste along the passage towards the dining room.

‘Fancy dress?' Gerald looked up from his breakfast of waffles, triple bacon and maple syrup. ‘Why does it have
to be fancy dress?'

Vi Wilkins plucked up a crispy corner of bacon from Gerald's plate and popped it in her mouth. ‘Because, my dear boy, fancy dress is fun. And while you may have attained the ripe old age of fourteen and now consider public displays of joy
infra dig
, there are older and wiser heads on board who still love a good knees-up while wearing a cape and thigh boots.'

‘
Infra
what?' Gerald asked.

‘Infra never-you-mind, Gerald Wilkins,' his mother replied. ‘There's a choice of costumes in a spare cabin for you and your friends to pick over. Irene will show you. Or is it Ella? Honestly, I can't tell the difference. I just hope there are two of them and we're not paying one person double wages. Anyway, it's your birthday party, Gerald. At least look like you're having a good time. It's a super-hero theme so try to do something more imaginative than just wearing your underpants on the outside of your trousers.'

Gerald's protest to his mother was drowned out by two blasts from a double-barrelled shotgun. Gerald was eating his late breakfast at a table on the lower rear deck, overlooking the expanse of South Pacific that stretched out behind the ship. Felicity and Sam (under the watchful eye of Mr Fry) were taking it in turns to blast clay targets out of the sky, while Ruby lounged on a sun bed, immersed in her book.

Vi patted Gerald on the head. ‘It's your special day,
darling boy. Try to make the most of it.' She set off across the deck and paused next to Sam. Vi took the shotgun from his hands, called ‘
Pull!'
at the top of her lungs, and blasted two clay pigeons from existence. She nodded with satisfaction, handed the gun back to Sam, and continued on her way.

Ruby peered over the top of her sunglasses. ‘Your mother does love dress-ups,' she said. ‘Do you remember her penguin costume at the party at your house in Chelsea?'

Gerald sliced into his pile of bacon. ‘I think the last year has been one big game of make-believe for my Mum and Dad.'

Ruby swivelled her gaze around to Gerald. ‘We're on a super-yacht heading to a private Caribbean island as part of a month-long festival of Gerald. I'm not sure you can get much more make-believe than that.'

Gerald chewed on his bacon. He did have the feeling he was living a dream and at any moment he would wake up with barely enough pocket money to afford a chocolate bar. Maybe having a trillion dollars in reserve wasn't such a bad idea. He shook off the thought. ‘You still reading about Charles Darwin?' he said to Ruby.

Ruby closed the book and looked at the front cover. ‘It's actually quite interesting,' she said. ‘Apparently there are birds on the Galapagos Islands that have no native predators. Over generations their wings shrank and their body weight doubled. Because they don't have anything
to worry about apart from eating, they've grown quite fat and lazy…physically and mentally.' She looked at Gerald as he shoved a slice of waffle into his mouth. He wiped a dribble of maple syrup that rolled down his chin, and looked back at her. ‘What are you saying?' he mumbled.

Ruby slid her sunglasses back into place and returned to her book. ‘Nothing,' she said. ‘Nothing at all.'

Felicity dropped into a chair next to Gerald and grabbed a tube of sunscreen from the table. She squirted a white glob into her palm and spread it across her arms and shoulders. ‘The Colonel taught me to shoot when I was younger,' she said. ‘I haven't done it for years but it is ever so much fun.'

Gerald didn't ask Felicity what she used to shoot with her army-officer father but suspected it probably involved a lot of feathers. He polished off the last of his meal and sat back with a satisfied belch.

Felicity groaned at him. ‘Must you?' she said. ‘That is terribly sick-making.'

Gerald smiled to himself. ‘It's just my compliment to the chef,' he said.

There was a clatter of a trolley behind him and a tanned arm reached across to remove the plate. ‘I'll be sure to pass that on,' a voice said.

Gerald looked up to see one of the twin crew members clearing away the dish and wiping the table.

‘Oh, thanks…'

‘Ella,' the young woman said. ‘I'm the good-looking
one. Can I get you anything else, Mr Wilkins?'

Gerald's breath caught in his throat. ‘No thanks,' he squeaked.

Ella smiled again. ‘Oh, Miss Upham? Captain Cooper said you can go up to the ship's bridge at any time.'

Felicity clapped her hands. ‘Oh goody. This should be fun. Let's go, Gerald.' She put her hands on Gerald's arm to push herself upright, then paused. ‘Gerald?'

‘Yes?' he said.

‘Are you sucking in your stomach?'

Gerald's face reddened and Ella tried to hide her grin as she excused herself and pushed the trolley back towards the kitchens in a rolling clatter of crockery and glassware.

Looking out from the bridge of the
Archer
was like standing on the roof of a seaside block of flats: a seven-storey crow's nest view above the rolling stretch of blue to the horizon. Captain Darcey Cooper was showing off the ship's technology and controls with a mixture of pride and schoolboy excitement. ‘This screen shows our position relative to the nearest land and this one is the weather satellite. As you can see, it's clear skies all around.'

Ruby pointed to a bank of smaller computer screens on the left of the main console. ‘What do these ones do?' she asked.

‘Engine controls, depth sounder, fuel consumption—that sort of thing. And here's something fun.' Cooper flipped a switch and a small screen flickered to life, showing a blur of bubbles and froth.

‘What's that?' Felicity asked.

‘That's the video camera attached to the mini-submarine,' Captain Cooper said. ‘The sub is in its docking bay now so we can't see much, but when it's out exploring a coral reef we get a crystal clear view from up here.'

‘There's a mini-sub!' Gerald could not believe what he was hearing. ‘Can we have a go in it?'

‘You don't have to ask permission,' the captain said. ‘It's yours.'

Gerald smiled. ‘Of course it is.'

Ruby studied the detail on the navigation screen. ‘Where are we heading, exactly?' she asked.

Cooper tapped a finger on the panel and the map zoomed out. ‘We'll be at this cluster of islands by mid-afternoon so people can go ashore and get some sand between their toes,' he said. ‘Irene will set up sailboats and jet skis and other water toys so you can have a splash around for a few hours. Sound good?'

‘Sounds fantastic!' Sam said.

Gerald gazed out through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that curved in a semi-circle before them and took in a deep breath. He actually
owned
this yacht. Then he had the brain-bursting realisation that this was all he ever had to do, for the rest of his life: cruise the world,
play in the sun and never undertake a single day of work. Ever. And if he had a
trillion
dollars…

Felicity's voice dragged Gerald out of his daydream. ‘Have you heard of Culpepper Island?' she asked Captain Cooper. ‘It's meant to be near the Galapagos group?'

Gerald turned to glare at her. ‘Felicity—' he began.

‘Quiet now, Gerald,' Felicity said, stepping closer to the navigation screen. ‘I'm talking with Captain Cooper.'

‘Culpepper Island?' Cooper said, scratching his whiskers. ‘I can't say I have heard of that one. But there's no shortage of tiny islands in the Pacific. Let's see what the satellite shows.' He tapped the screen and it zoomed further out till the ship was a red dot in the centre. ‘This is us here,' he said. ‘And the Galapagos archipelago is here to the east-north-east. Now, if we zoom in we can see there's about fifteen main islands…' The captain scanned the map for a moment then shook his head. ‘But I can't see a Culpepper.'

Gerald folded his arms across his chest and glared at Felicity. ‘Satisfied now?' he said. ‘If you're done chasing after myths, I have a birthday to enjoy and some jet skiing to do.'

Felicity grunted a response. She touched the screen with her fingertip and dragged the map in a slow, ponderous circle.

Chapter 7

The
Archer
dropped anchor a hundred metres from a small sand island fringed with coconut palms and low scrub. Soon the crystal waters were alive with the sounds of splashing and laughter. Ella and Irene tossed huge inflatable toys over the side—a giraffe, a hippo, a racing car—and party guests threw themselves in after them, squealing like forty-year-old children.