‘Do you know why your ears go pop?’ Theo heard the familiar voice of a Bloon at his side. ‘It’s because the change of altitude forces the Palabras out of your ears. That’s why the stewardesses only ever say “tea, coffee or juice” – they’re the only words they have left in their heads.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ Theo moaned. He was feeling far too bleary and disorientated to argue with Bozo.
The plane landed with only a small bump and a round of applause went up from the passengers. The pilot taxied them over to the terminal and everyone started getting up to haul their luggage out of the overhead compartments.
The intercom crackled into life again: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking once more. We have a request from the American authorities for Mr Amir and Prakash Vishal to come to the front of the plane.’
Theo and Buntee exchanged nervous looks.
‘What do we do?’ Buntee asked.
‘What choice do we have?’ Theo replied in a small voice. They stood up and walked down the aisle, followed by the stares of the other passengers. Each step seemed to take a minute and, though Theo’s mind raced through all the possibilities, he could see no way out. The chill of the New York morning blew in their faces. At the door of a plane waited a short woman with cropped hair and thin lips. She had three large policemen with her for back-up.
A badge identified the woman as an immigration official. She took one look at Theo and Buntee and nodded curtly. ‘Put the cuffs on him, officers,’ she said.
Two of the policemen stepped forwards and slipped metal handcuffs around Buntee’s wrists. They pulled him away.
‘What’s going on, fellas?’ Buntee protested nervously. ‘Have I or my son done anything wrong?’
‘Your son?’ the immigration official sneered. ‘Save it for the judge, Mister. You’re in deep trouble.’ She turned her beady eyes on Theo. ‘And you had better not try anything pretty, either. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.’
Theo’s head drooped and a pit of despair opened up like a whirlpool in his stomach. It was all over. Somehow the Enemy’s agents had got hold of him and now he’d never meet Sid, the First AO. To have come all the way around the world and get caught now when he was so close! It was unbearable. But how had they known where to find him?
‘Want me to tie their shoelaces together?’ Bozo offered, flexing his muscles. ‘Or squirt mustard in their faces?’
Theo shook his head and Bozo could read the utter surrender in his eyes. This time there would be no more tricks, no more magic escape plans. He had been caught, once and for all. Theo watched miserably as Buntee was led away to a waiting car. It was like the departure of hope.
The clown looked back at Theo with a brave smile on his face: ‘Cheer up, kid. It was good while it lasted.’
The clown’s show of courage made the cruel turn of events even more painful. Theo stared sorrowfully after him. He hoped that they wouldn’t give Buntee too hard a time. He felt a strong grip on his own arm and was led by the immigration lady to another shiny black car. The door was opened for him and he could smell the stuffy leather seats. He climbed into the back and almost had a heart attack.
Dr Bunsen was sitting there waiting for him.
Theo stared at him in disbelief and hatred. ‘How…’
‘How did I find you?’ Bunsen smirked. ‘It was easy, really. You were bound to slip up eventually. What more could be expected from a child? Let me see,’ Bunsen rummaged in his jacket pocket and pulled out a postcard. ‘It says: “Dear Sandra, blah, blah, blah, I’m flying from Delhi to New York in a couple of days, blah, blah, Theo.” ’
He gave Theo a knowing grin. ‘You see, all I had to do was fly over here and arrange this little reception with the airport officials. We had the stewardesses on the lookout. They radioed ahead to say you’d be arriving soon.’
Theo let his head drop into his hands. How could he have been so stupid? He had just wanted to let Sandra know he was OK. He should have guessed the postcard would be intercepted.
‘That schmuck!’ Bozo yelled beside Theo. ‘I’ll make him pay for this.’
Theo put a hand on Bozo’s shoulder to calm him. This was it. No more heroics. No more last stands. His past had caught up with him and that was that. ‘So what now?’ he mumbled.
Bunsen’s eyes danced merrily to see Theo so subdued. He replied slowly, savouring every word of his long-planned revenge: ‘Now is only the beginning, Theo. You’ve caused quite a stir with your criminal escapades. You’re the most unique pathological case of child insanity in history, and I am the one who is going to cure you. From now on, it’s you and me together, my boy.’
‘What do you mean?’ Theo asked, dreading the answer.
‘I am to assume legal guardianship of you in a boarding house for disturbed children. Following a regime of strict daily exercises and punishment for misbehaviour, we’ll soon bring you back to your senses. And, incidentally, get rich and famous in the meantime – the offers are pouring in.’ He tapped his Fone in his shirt pocket. ‘Newspapers, book contracts, movies – it’s all in the pipework. Play your cards right, my boy, and there might be a new bicycle or computer in it for you.’
Bunsen’s victory speech was interrupted by the gnashing teeth of his Fone. As he answered, a big smile spread across his ugly chops. ‘Oh yes? Seven o’clock it is, then. A blue suit? Good idea. See you backstage.’ Bunsen turned his hateful smirk on Theo. ‘That was the TV producers. We’re appearing in a televised show tonight at Carnegie Hall so that I can receive my reward money for having rescued you.’
‘But you didn’t rescue me!’ Theo yelled, his frustration overcoming his despair for a moment.
Bunsen’s smile vanished. It was replaced by a murderous glare. He leaned over Theo and his breath stank of tobacco. ‘Listen and listen good. You are a very small boy in a very large world, Theo,’ he hissed. ‘You’d better understand just how hard I can make things if you don’t play ball. You belong to me now and you play by my rules. At first, we were going to make you spend the day in jail before the show.’
‘You can’t put me in prison,’ Theo gasped. ‘I’m just a kid.’ ‘That’s what the police said,’ Bunsen nodded ruefully. ‘So instead we’re putting you in solitary confinement in a hospital. You’ll have plenty of time there alone today to reconsider your attitude before starting your new life in a boarding house for traumatised children.’
‘But there’s nothing wrong with me,’ Theo insisted.
‘Ooh, I don’t know. Amnesia, paranoia, forever on the run – it’s clear you have problems, Theo. Accepting that is the first step to being cured, understand?’
The Fone bit into Bunsen’s threats and he exchanged his snarl for a smile as he listened. ‘Oh yes? Mmm. Let me check in my diary. OK. The 23rd should be fine. A working lunch, then.’ He snapped the Fone shut and turned his attention back to Theo.
‘Our stars are on the rise, Theo. As your doctor and soon-to-be legal guardian, good times are ahead. You’ll be grateful to me some day. Wait and see. Of course, I always knew I was destined for greatness....’
Bunsen’s voice droned on dreamily of future prosperity but Theo was no longer listening. He was becoming smaller where he sat, withdrawing into himself now that the world had let him down. His body became as numb as a shell and his spirit retreated deep inside to where it could not be hurt any more.
‘Hey, kid,’ Bozo nudged him but got no response. ‘We’re not beat yet. We’ve been in worse fixes before. We’ll get out of this one somehow and then go find this Sid character. If he really does know everything, then he must know the Cure for the Storyteller. It can’t all end like this. Remember the Prophecy?’
But none of Bozo’s words evoked the slightest reaction. Theo just stared sadly ahead. A light had gone out of his eyes. Bunsen looked on approvingly and continued to trail his clouds of glory, tapping out his schedule on his personal organiser.
Bozo scratched his head and looked out of the window at New York in winter. The first Christmas decorations were already up in the shopping streets, and children dragged their parents to look at displays in shop windows. Everyone was dressed in warm layers and large snowflakes began to drift earthwards as in some timeless dream. Bozo looked up at the pieces of falling sky like the scattering of ashes and said, ‘Old man, if you could ever help us, help us now.’
As he uttered this prayer, the Bloon felt an emotion utterly foreign to his kind: fear. Since arriving in the Story, he had always counted on Theo to lead the way. Although he had prided himself on being the boy’s protector and envoy from the Storyteller, in reality he was lost without a plan of action. Seeing Theo like this frightened him and he felt a burden of responsibility pass on to his shoulders. He trembled a little beneath it.
Still, this wasn’t the Bloon of a month before. Change might not be a welcome phenomenon in Bloonland, but Bozo was far from home. He listened to the anxious beats of his heart and reflected that since the shipwreck he had gone in all kinds of new directions. ‘If I can survive storms, ride elephants through India and set myself up in the wise-man business,’ he said to himself by way of a pep talk, ‘who says I can’t help save the world too?’
‘…and we still need to find out who the Indian is,’ the immigration lady in the front was saying. Bozo pricked up his ears. ‘They’re taking him to the station on 31st Street for questioning. It doesn’t look like he’ll put up much of a struggle.’
Bozo snorted. There was still one player left in the Story with some fighting spirit. Buntee had been a good friend to both Raj and Theo, and it pained the Bloon to think of the clown alone and afraid at the hands of these mean officials. Besides, maybe Buntee would be able to bring Theo to his senses.
The car pulled up at the traffic lights down the road from where the St Bartholomew Hospital could be seen. ‘Don’t worry, kid,’ Bozo said. ‘I’ll go break Buntee free and we’ll come back for you. Don’t give up.’
He gave Theo’s arm a squeeze but received no response. Bozo frowned, opened the car door and slipped out into the traffic.
‘Trying to pull a fast one, eh?’ Bunsen sneered at Theo, as he slammed the door shut. ‘I already told you – no more Houdini tricks. It’s in your interest to play ball, Theo. Why don’t you take the next six hours to decide if you’d rather make things easy on yourself or learn the hard way?’
Theo stared ahead in silence. They pulled up at the hospital and Bunsen experienced a warm feeling inside to see the kid so broken in spirit. The brat had had it coming for a long time.