Britland Calling: 3. The Four Playing Card Suits – Opening Chapters

1

URGLAND ARRIVAL

DOWN, DOWN, DOWN climbed Logan and Tommy. Hand under hand. Foot under foot. Tommy moved like a machine. Logan moved like an elastic monkey.

After about twenty feet, Logan heard a loud metallic click sounding from above his head. When he stopped and looked up, he saw that the air-vent cover had been replaced.

“Tommy, Debbie’s put the titranium cover back on,” he called down to Tommy.

“Good,” said Tommy, stopping and looking up at Logan. “That’s sensible. We don’t want the Urglanders spotting something unusual. They probably check their disused air-vents from time to time. And it’s ‘titanium’ not ‘titranium’, by the way. It’s a hard word for someone of your age though, so well done on getting so close.”

“Titanium,” said Logan, determined to get the word right.

“Well, off we go again, Logan!”

Tommy restarted his machine-like ladder descent, and Logan was right behind him, restarting his elastic monkey-like ladder descent.

After another twenty feet or so, Tommy called up to Logan …

“Logan, get ready to stop. We’re coming to a door. See the signs in front of the ladder. They’re giving distance marks to a door. Slow down now.”

“Okay, Tommy.” Logan slowed down. Then he stopped and let Tommy get a comfortable distance beneath him before starting to climb down again.

“Stop now, Logan!” said Tommy, looking up and trying to see Logan’s face.

“Okay,” said Logan.

Tommy pressed a red metallic button that had “OPEN DOOR” written in black lettering underneath it.

There was a hiss of compressed air as a door opened inwards into the side of the air-vent wall and a sheet of metal covered in small holes slid across the air-vent beneath Tommy to form a floor for easy access to the door. Tommy preferred to swing out a foot, then push himself from the ladder directly into the door.

“There’s a floor to help you access the doorway, Logan,” said Tommy. “But it might be best to try and avoid using it. After all, this is supposed to be a disused air-vent, even if everything seems to be working perfectly.”

Logan assessed the doorway’s position.

“Stand back a bit, Tommy.”

Tommy moved back into the doorway.

Logan simply twisted himself around on the ladder so he was facing the open door. Then he bent his knees and launched himself off the ladder, springing off by his heels like a leaping frog … and landed comfortably inside the open doorway.

“Blimey!” said Tommy, impressed. “You’re better than me at climbing—I’m sure of that!”

“And jumping!” added Logan with a toothy grin.

Tommy gave Logan a friendly ruffle of the hair.

Tommy pressed a familiar-looking metallic button to the one he had just pressed, except it was green instead of red and the black lettering written beneath it said “CLOSE DOOR”.

The door closed with a loud clunk and click.

Logan and Tommy found themselves in a well-lighted corridor that seemed to end after a length of only forty feet or so. The walls and ceiling were made of some sort of metal and the floor was covered in some sort of industrial strength linoleum.

“It’s a dead end!” said Logan. “We’ll have to go back into the air-vent and climb down some more.”

“But there must be something in this corridor, otherwise what’s it for?”

“Perhaps it’s somewhere to go if there’s a fire in the air-vent,” suggested Logan.

“Even if it was, it would have to lead to an exit, wouldn’t it?”

Logan realised Tommy must have been right.

“I suggest we walk the length of the corridor,” said Tommy. “They’ll be something that leads to somewhere—I’m sure of that.”

They quickly arrived at the end of the tunnel.

“There’s nothing here,” said Logan.

“Hmm …” pondered Tommy. He reached for his baseball cap, but Logan could see what he was going to do.

“No, Tommy! Don’t take off your cap. You have to get used to leaving it on. Freddy’s depending on us!”

“Yes, of course,” said Tommy. “I was going to scratch my head. It was as if I needed to free my brain from the tightness of the cap so it could think more freely. There has to be a way out of this corridor other than back out into the air-vent. There just has to be!”

“Tommy, look!” said Logan, pointing at a saucer-sized black rubberised circular bumper button on the short corridor’s end wall just inches off the green linoleum floor.

“That’s unusual,” said Tommy. “Some sort of bumper button. Let me get a better look.” Tommy crouched down on the floor. “There’s some writing engraved just above it.”

“What does it say?”

“It says: ‘KICK TO RE-OPEN THE LIFT TO DISUSED AIR-VENT ACCESS CORRIDOR!’”

Tommy stood up.

“Keep back, Logan!”

Logan took a couple of steps backwards, away from the corridor’s end wall.

Tommy kicked the bumper button …

Nothing.

“Kick it harder, Tommy!”

Tommy obeyed Logan’s command …

And suddenly the metallic wall swished to the side …

And there, in front of Logan and Tommy, was a lift.

“Wow!” said Logan.

There was one small black button on the lift’s side panelling that had a back-lighted down-pointing arrow on it.

“In for a penny …” said Tommy, pressing the button.

Vroom … sounded a smooth humming noise from behind the lift door. Logan and Tommy noticed that there were a row of four numbers just above the lift, labelled from left to right, “3”, “2”, “1” and “0”. Number “1” had been lit up with an orange glow. But this number lost its glow moments after Tommy had pressed the lift calling button.

In just about twenty seconds, a lift arrival chime sounded and the number “0” lit up with an orange glow. Then, a few seconds later, the lift’s inner and outer door swished smoothly open.

“Just a minute,” said Tommy warningly. He popped his head into the lift and looked around, particularly up at the corners of the lift’s ceiling. “Seems free of security cameras. Come on, Logan, in we go.”

Logan followed Tommy into the lift.

“I think we should press this button second from the top of this column of buttons,” said Tommy, pointing to a button between the one above it that read “A.V.Acc.C” and the one below it that read “Level 2”. “It says ‘Level 1’, see? That ‘0” we saw above the lift must correspond to this “A.V.Acc.C’ top button. I’m sure this “A.V.Acc.C’ stands for ‘Air-Vent Access Corridor’, which is where we are now, of course.’

“Why do we want to press the ‘Level 1’ button?”

“Well, these buttons indicate that Urgland has at least three main levels. Level 3 is the lowest of these. Level 2 is in the middle. And Level 1 is the top level. And it’s my guess Mr Dexter lives on the top level, Level 1 because it’s closer to Thear’s surface, where I reckon the rich would prefer to live.”

“But if they like living underground, wouldn’t they prefer living at the deepest levels?”

“Who says they like living underground? If they are humans, then this isn’t their planet. Perhaps this was the only place they could get away with living in. Perhaps they have dreams of one day escaping to the surface by taking over Britland.”

“Okay,” said Logan, not quite understanding Tommy.

“In any case, Logan. The least amount of time we spend in this disused air-vent system, the better. We’ll be able to find a safer way to descend to lower levels if need be. Quick, let’s get going!”

Tommy urgently pressed the Level 1 button.

Vroom … The lift began to fall. And blimey, it was fast. Logan felt his stomach being left behind, and he almost fell over in surprise.

“We’re falling!” cried Logan. “The lift’s broken! We’re going to crash!”

“I think it’s just a fast lift. We’d be floating in the air if the lift was falling. Ah, that’s better. See, it’s reached its normal travelling speed now and we’re not feeling any acceleration. But be prepared to be squashed a little to the floor as we decelerate. Boy, this lift is fast! Debbie wasn’t joking when she said these Urglanders were brilliant engineers.”

And Logan found Tommy’s warning was appropriate. The lift suddenly started to decelerate, and he felt himself being squashed. His knees bent and his legs nearly buckled. But he managed to stay upright, and the lift came to a smooth stop to the accompaniment of a pleasant chime.

The lift’s inner and outer door swished open and, as there seemed to be no one around, they quickly stepped out of the lift and found themselves in what looked like a factory. There were racks of metal bars in front of them and an abandoned forklift truck.

“Come on, Logan. We must get out of this place if there is an outside. It looks like some kind of metal factory. See those metal bars up there? They’re probably used to make nuts and bolts, among other things.”

“We must remember how to get back here though,” said Logan. “See, our lift is in a row of lifts. There must be about twenty of them.”

“I make it twenty-two, and we’re seventh from the left-hand end,” said Tommy.

“But there might be other rows of lifts.”

“You’re well on form today, Logan. I reckon it must be because you’re on a rescue mission to save Freddy.” Tommy picked up a long stainless steel bolt that was on the floor and scratched the letter L on the bottom of the bordering area of the lift’s outer door.

“Is that an L for Lift?” asked Logan.

“Could be, but it’s also an L for Logan. You’re good at spotting things low to the floor like the bumper button, so putting your initial will help your brain pick out such a familiar and meaningful letter.”

“You’re very clever, Tommy.” Logan looked suitably impressed. He would never have thought of that.

“Let’s go,” said Tommy. “Remember to look as calm and normal as possible because, according to Debbie, we shouldn’t look out of place as the humans here look and dress exactly like us. Jeans and T-shirts are all the rage, she said. Debbie said their fashion followed that of England on Earth. She reckons there must be some sort of way they are communicating with Earth. It’s very interesting because Britland is supposed to be far in the future and needs to be travelled to through a dream. I wonder how they first got here. And—‍”

“Tommy,” said Logan imploringly and tugging at Tommy’s wrist, “we’ve got to get a move on!”

“Yes, of course. Come on then. I’ll keep looking for points in our exploration that will help me to remember where the lift is.”

“If we go back the same way we came, that is.” Logan winked at Tommy.

“Quite,” replied Tommy, winking back at Logan.

Together they wended their way around the factory, looking for an exit.

They nearly made it all the way out of the building without being challenged. However, they were approaching some huge concertinaed open hangar doors, which appeared to lead out to a dazzling sunny day, when suddenly a man in a navy-blue boiler suit came racing up to them. At least to Logan and Tommy, he looked like any factory worker they might have seen wandering about Basildon’s various Industrial Estates. These Urglanders certainly looked human.

“Hey! You lads! Just what are you doing in here?” roared the man angrily. He was at least six feet tall and built like a bear.

 

2

JOURNEYING THROUGH URGLAND

LOGAN WAS ABOUT to say “Nothing” when Tommy beat him to the punch.

“Are you Mr Fargo?” asked Tommy.

“What?” blurted the man, taken aback. “No, I’m Mr Jones.”

“Are you the Operations Manager?”

“What? Er, no. I’m an Assistant Inspector.” Mr Jones seemed a little on the defensive now.

“Do you know who the Operations Manager is?” pressed Tommy.

“No. I’ve never heard of such a post either.”

“So you don’t get in to the main offices a lot?” Tommy looked to Logan as if he was fishing for the right questions to ask to get them safely out of the factory.

“Do you mean the Logistics and Finances Building?” asked Mr Jones.

“What else?” said Tommy, putting his hands out to his sides in askance.

“And you have to meet a Mr Fargo, I take it?”

“You’ve got it, Mr Jones. You’re a smart man.”

“Who are you both and why do you need to meet the Operations Manager?” said Mr Jones, even though there was no such a person.

“This is my friend,” said Tommy. “And we have to bring my dad a message from my mum about something personal. It’s pretty important.”

“Oh, you’re Fargo’s son?” said Mr Jones jovially; clearly pretending he knew a non-existent Mr Fargo.

“What do you think?” said Tommy. Logan knew Tommy had Mr Jones at his mercy now and had completely fooled him, just as a clever pupil easily fools a dull teacher.

“Er … right,” spluttered Mr Jones. “You’re in the wrong building. This is Goods Inwards. Follow me and I’ll point out the building you want.”

Mr Jones accompanied Logan and Tommy through the huge open concertinaed green-painted steel hangar doors and marched them down the small entrance concrete road. It was pockmarked with old oil spills; and there were a number of wide tyre skids, a sprinkling of metal washers, and Logan had to step over a badly run over oil soaked teddy bear with bits of wire sticking around it.

Mr Jones stepped them up the entrance road’s concrete kerb onto a concrete flagstoned pavement adjoining a wide asphalt-concrete surfaced road. On the other side of the road was a huge red-bricked factory, the words “Henderson’s Kitchen Appliances” giving a clue as to what was manufactured there.

It was somehow sunny and if they didn’t know better, both Logan and Tommy would have thought they were on an Industrial Estate in Basildon enjoying a sunny day.

Logan looked up. There was no sun. So he was sure he was underground, but the roof above looked blue, just like a sunny sky, and there were a few scattered fluffy white clouds slowly crawling along.

“How do they make the sky look so real?” asked Tommy of Mr Jones. Tommy seemed as curious as Logan, who was still gawping upwards.

“Real? You mean, how do we make it look like it does up there on Britland?” replied Mr Jones, looking up to the “sky”. “It’s just a special paint. Harley’s paint. You can’t actually detect it as paint. Even if you were to float like a helium balloon right up to the roof and look at it from a few inches, you’d never be able to tell it was paint. You’d think you were looking at a smooth natural blue plaster ceiling. We think it’s better than the paint used on Britland’s roof. Though they make their paint appear to change colour with their ridiculous lighting method. Just a great big lamp that rolls across the sky. Very primitive engineers, those Britlanders. We just turn off the sky lighting at midnight and turn it back on at 6.00 am, don’t we? Much better, you have to agree.”

Mr Jones’s ignorant Britland sky beliefs startled Logan, and he nearly burst out laughing, fortunately he turned his laugh into a cough. He saw the corners of Tommy’s lips fight off a laugh too.

“What about the clouds?” asked Logan, wanting to show Tommy he could make sensible conversation.

“Oh, they’re Jenka’s Floaters made from a helium glue and cottonun spray strands. Don’t they teach you anything at school these days?”

Logan thought this a bit rich coming from a man who thought Britland’s sky was a roof. Mr Jones reminded Logan of the plumber who mended his mum’s central heating boiler—he always treated Logan’s questions about the boiler with disdain, and he always wore a navy-blue boiler suit.

“Why is the roof called a sky when it is just a roof?” asked Tommy, looking earnestly at Mr Jones.

Meanwhile, Logan had suddenly grown impatient to get on with their mission and so he kicked a large pebble into the road.

“I don’t rightly know,” admitted Mr Jones, scratching his balding head. “But any roof that lies between main land levels, we call a sky, and that’s that.”

“Tommy, we have to see your dad. We’ll be late if we don’t hurry up.” Logan sounded impatient.

Tommy looked at Mr Jones expectantly, and asked, “Well, the Logistics and Finances Building?”

Mr Jones pointed at a tall pyramid-shaped building made of cream-coloured bricks. “It’s that pointed sandy-bricked building over there.”

“Thanks, Mr Jones,” said Tommy.

“Thanks,” added Logan, with one of his best toothy smiles.

Quickly, Logan and Tommy marched off, heading towards the pyramid-shaped building.

However, when they got to a nearby side road …

“Quick, Logan!” said Tommy, taking a look back at the Goods Inwards hangar entrance. “Mr Jones has gone back in his factory. Let’s go this way.”

Down the side road they jogged, mindful that they were in Urgland on an important mission.

“It’s just like being in any town in England—only different,” said Tommy. “Even Mr Jones’s accent was just like ours.”

“He was talking nonsense about Britland’s sky, wasn’t he?” asked Logan.

“Yes. It just shows what people will believe if they’re told to. I’m sure the people in power in Urgland, such as Mr Dexter, know different. It probably helps the masses on Urgland to believe Britland has a roof so that they don’t feel they are missing out on anything. But you can bet your last penny that people like Mr Dexter look through this Urgland Level 1 roof to Britland with envious eyes.”

“How are we going to find Freddy?” said Logan, changing the subject and getting back to the crux of the mission.

“Well, Mr Dexter is very rich and powerful. So it will be easy to find his home. We’ve just got to ask someone in a way that doesn’t arise suspicion. I’m pretty sure we must be the only people in Labisdon who don’t know where he lives.”

Just then, Logan noticed something that, although familiar, was somehow disconcerting.

“Tommy, look!”

“What? I can’t see anything of interest.”

“The grass and the leaves of the plants and trees … Look at them!” Logan pointed around at the grass and flowers in the gardens of a nearby building’s forecourt and at some trees to the side of the building.

“Oh yes. Well spotted, Logan. It didn’t register. They’re all green. Just like on Earth! I think these Urglanders really have come from Earth.”

“There’re flies too,” said Logan, puffing a bit from trying to talk and jog at the same time. “One just flew into my face. And I’ve seen a bumblebee buzzing around some roses back there.”

“Just like Britland and our England, Urgland seems to have insect life, at least. They need it too. Otherwise, many of the flowering plants would never grow.”

“Flowers need insects to grow?” Logan found this highly dubious.

“Yes, many of them do. Such plants need insects to carry pollen from one plant to another in order to fertilise them.”

Logan managed to shrug his shoulders despite his jogging.

Soon they neared a main road with heavy traffic, signposted as the Noldon Road. Tommy slowed down, and Logan followed suit.

“Look!” said Tommy, pointing at the distant road sign, “The London Road.”

“It don’t say the London Road, it says the Noldon Road. My eyes are much better than yours.”

“I was telling a joke. Your eyes are better than mine, and I do know the road sign says the Noldon Road. But haven’t you noticed that all the places here in Urgland are just the letters of places in Britland rearranged? Rearrange the first three letters of Noldon and you get London. Rearrange the first five letters of this town, Labisdon, and you get Basildon.”

“Oh yeah,” said Logan, showing interest. He actually understood what Tommy was explaining. “Why’s that then?”

“No idea. But given that one country seems to be obviously basing their names on the other country, we better hope that it is Urgland doing the copying.”

“Why?”

“Because Britland’s places are the same as England’s! I’ll let you figure out the problem this might lead one to conclude.”

Logan thought he would give figuring out such a problem a miss.

“Come on,” said Tommy, “we’re bound to bump in to someone on a main road like that,” said Tommy, marching ahead.

As they approached the Noldon Road, Logan was surprised that the vehicles on the road were much more silent than their counterparts on Earth ever were.

“It’s not as noisy this Urgland traffic, is it?” he said.

“No. I think that’s because the Urgland vehicles use electric engines.”

“But back at Mr Jones’s factory, the entrance road had lots of dirty oil marks on it,” argued Logan.

“Yes, but oil is needed to make their products, so I reckon those oil stains were spills of oil deliveries made by electric powered oil tankers or something similar.”

Logan hadn’t thought of that. He wondered if he would ever be even a tenth as clever as Tommy when he grew up. He doubted it.

Once on the road, they saw coming towards them a woman holding the hand of a four or five-year-old girl. They were both blue-eyed blondes, dressed in navy-blue jeans and pink T-shirts. The little girl looked like a miniature version of her mother. So pretty was the girl that Logan thought for a minute that she was a Britland non-animal living doll.

 

3

FINDING MR DEXTER’S ADDRESS

“NICE DAY, ISN’T IT?” said Tommy as the woman approached.

“When is it ever not?” she replied, stopping to talk.

“When it’s a day on Basildon,” said Tommy.

“As if any of us would ever go up there. I prefer the green, green grass of home, myself.”

“So do we,” chirped in Logan, smiling.

“Mr Dexter,” said Tommy, “you know the rich man. I bet he would like more variable weather. It makes you more inventive, you see. A bit of rain and a thunderstorm would go down pretty well—I’m sure of that.”

“Mummy,” said the little girl, looking up at her mother with befuddled eyebrows, “wot’s that mad boy going on about?”

“He’s just telling jokes, Gillian. I think stories of mother Earth have gone to his head.”

“Those is just stories though, ain’t they, Mummy?” The girl managed to give a little scowl to Logan and Tommy.

“Oh yes, but I think he wants to take the worst parts of the stories and put them here on our wonderful Urgland. The weather on mother Earth is even worse than up there.” The woman raised her eyes to the blue-painted ceiling of Level 1. She was obviously referring to Britland. “Why those Britlanders create such ridiculous weather systems, I shall never understand. They actually release water from their sky, create the most foreboding clouds to rush around their sky and lots of other things like pellets of ice and a fluffy frozen rain called snow. And why do they keep changing the temperature? You tell me!”

Logan tried his best not to laugh under his cupped hands, but it was no good, and he let out a loud giggle.

“What are you laughing at, young man?” said the woman, looking slightly offended.

“Oh, he’s not laughing at you, ma’am,” said Tommy quickly. “Did you see that van that just went past? A little boy pulled a funny face at us.”

“I didn’t notice anything like that,” said the woman.

“Yes, but you were bending down talking to your Gillian,” said Tommy.

“That’s right, I was.”

“Gillian?” said Tommy, turning his attention to the little girl.

“Wot?” said Gillian, folding her arms and looking extremely belligerent. She couldn’t have been used to being spoken to by complete strangers—and boys at that!

“Do you know any mother Earth stories?”

“Yeah. So wot?”

“Mr Dexter says he’s rich because he knows every mother Earth story ever written.”

“Oh,” said Gillian. “How many stories is that then?”

“Over a thousand,” said Tommy.

“Is that a lot, Mummy?”

“Yes, more than the number of cornflakes I pour in your breakfast bowl of a morning.”

“Is it really! That’s lots and lots, Mummy.” Gillian looked very impressed.

“Can you guess Mr Dexter’s favourite mother Earth story?” asked Tommy of Gillian.

“Um … is it the one with the big boat that travelled from mother Earth to Thear? It went above the roof and rided on a black sea full of sparkly creatures called starfish.”

“She’s talking about space and a spaceship, isn’t she?” said Logan to Tommy.

“No, she isn’t,” cut in the woman. “Space and spaceships are just a myth. They never come in the True mother Earth stories. She’s talking about Noah’s Ark. There was a huge flood on mother Earth, but Noah had built a huge boat because the god, Mr Sun, had warned him of the impending flood. He brought his entire town on that huge boat. The boat drifted about the Earth, but then one night it broke through mother Earth’s roof and ended up on a black sea with ghostly tiny five-pointed creatures called starfish, shining like little white fires. Then day didn’t come, and his boat drifted on for years and years and all the while the sea was rising until he reached the land of Thear. He and his townsfolk visited a country of this land called Britland. Whereupon they were sent to live beneath the floor of Britland because they were foreigners to Thear. Noah and his townsfolk didn’t mind this, as being below Britland, one of the many lands of Thear, they knew they were on the same level as that of their mother Earth. Noah then founded Urgland, promising his townsfolk that they would spread Urgland so far in all directions that one day they would find their beloved mother Earth.”

Gillian clapped her hands. “Tell us another one, Mummy? Go on. Oh please, Mummy. Pretty please, Mummy.”

“You say you don’t believe in space, ma’am,” said Tommy, “but what do you think the sky is above Thear?”

“Huh? Well, that’s obvious. Everyone knows what it is, even though almost none of us have ever been there. It’s a roof like ours. What sort of question is that?”

“And above that roof?” pressed Tommy.

“Another land,” said the woman confidently. “And above that, another one, on and on forever. Well, almost forever, because above these infinite levels is Heaven, where Mr Sun lives with the other gods and their father, the Original God, Origimus.”

“Is Hell underneath an infinite number of floors?” asked Tommy earnestly.

“Of course,” said the woman.

“Who lives in Hell?”

“All the sinners and bad engineers, and, of course, Origimis.”

“Who is this Origimis?” Tommy looked so interested that he nearly took his baseball hat off. And he might have done had not Logan nudged him and tapped his own head as a warning.

“Origimis, as you very well know, is the partner of Origimus. After the Great Argument she went as far away from Heaven as she could get. When they come together, either Heaven or Hell will be destroyed. You must have done that at school by now, haven’t you?”

“We did something like that,” said Tommy.

“Good,” said Gillian’s mother. “If we stop learning our religion, where would we be?”

“Well, Gillian,” said Tommy, smiling down at little Gillian, “I know Mr Dexter’s favourite story. Would you like to know what one it is?”

“Ooh, yes please, mister boy,” said Gillian excitedly.

“It’s the story where a man on mother Earth searched for a house to live in. But when he found one he liked, he couldn’t afford to buy it. So he prayed to the god Mr Sun, asking for help to buy his house. Mr Sun answered his prayers and let him work in his factory. It was a factory that made beautiful metals from just the air we breathe. The man worked in that factory until his fingers almost fell off and his feet nearly wore away.” Tommy paused. Logan looked at Gillian’s face. It was a picture of wonderment. “Then,” continued Tommy, “after many years of hard work, Mr Sun told the man that he had done enough work and his payment was due. Mr Sun gave him a thousand pure gold coins and told him that gold could be used as money throughout the whole of existence. He said to the man, ‘Go forth from here. You have earned enough money for your house and much more to enjoy your life with.’ So Mr Sun returned the man to mother Earth. The man bought the house for 500 of his coins and with the remaining 500, he started up his own company and became the richest and most powerful man on mother Earth.”

Gillian clapped her hands and giggled with delight.

“I can see why Mr Dexter likes that old chestnut,” said Gillian’s mother, thinking the story was well known even though Tommy had obviously made it up.

“Guess what, Gillian?” said Tommy.

“Wot?”

“Mr Dexter chose the house he lived in because it looked like the house in his favourite mother Earth story.” Tommy flashed amazed iron-grey eyes at Gillian.

“Did he?” said Gillian with her eyes opening wide so that she looked like a fish with a wig.

“Well, that’s what people say.”

“Do they?”

“They definitely do,” said Tommy.

“Ooh,” mumbled Gillian, swaying from foot to foot.

“Have you ever seen Mr Dexter’s home?” asked Tommy.

“Of course I have.” Gillian then turned to her mother and added, “It’s called a mansion, ain’t it, Mummy?”

“Yes, that’s right, Gillian,” said her mother.

“Is it near here then?” asked Tommy.

“Yeah,” said Gillian, looking at Tommy as if he was a little peculiar and wondering why he was asking the silliest of questions. “Everyone in Labisdon knows where it is. It’s just off that road where ya just came from.” Gillian pointed at the road.

“But you can’t see it easily from the road, can you?” asked Tommy.

Logan realised Tommy was trying to tease out of Gillian the exact location of Mr Dexter’s mansion as it was true they didn’t notice any mansions or houses down the side road they had just walked along.

“It’s in the middle of the factories, ain’t it?” said Gillian in a matter-of-fact way. “There’s a driveway froo the trees between two big factories. It’s at the end of that driveway.” Gillian gave a great big emphatic nod of her head as if to show she definitely knew where Mr Dexter’s mansion was and anyone would be mad to disbelieve her.

“Yes,” said Tommy. “That’s right, Gillian. I think you are almost as clever as you are pretty. Do you want to be rich when you grow up?”

“Nah. I wanna be an engineer. My mummy says, ya don’t wanna end up rich and unhappy like Mr Dexter. She says, ya can’t buy happiness. Don’t ya, Mummy?”

“Yes, Gillian. Now, come on, or we’ll be late for our burgers.”

“Bye,” said Logan, smiling at Gillian, and he managed a little wave.

“Huh!” exclaimed Gillian, throwing her head up to the blue-painted roof. It seemed she’d had enough of boys for one day.

Logan and Tommy waited a few minutes, then darted back down the side road.

“Of course, I knew Mr Dexter’s home was close,” said Tommy.

“How?” asked Logan

“Because Freddy is imprisoned in Mr Dexter’s home, and we heard Freddy’s voice coming up through the water drain, air-vent combination cover at the garages in Parry Blue. So even though Freddy would have sent his voice through a couple of interconnecting air-vents and not simply straight up from the room he was imprisoned in, and even though the lift was slightly distant from the disused air-vent we descended in Debbie’s back garden shed, it stands to reason that Mr Dexter’s home can’t be that great a distance from where we came out of the lift.”

“I bet that lift was less than a few hundred yards from Mr Dexter’s mansion,” said Logan.

“Probably. But we had to get away from Mr Jones. And we had to find someone to ask for the exact location of Mr Dexter’s home. We’ve probably saved a lot of time rather than if we just wandered around the factories looking for it. And looking as suspicious as two detectives searching for a body in a town full of serial killers wouldn’t have been very clever either.”

“Why don’t he live in the countryside?” asked Logan.

“Maybe there is no countryside in Urgland. It might just be a collection of towns and cities. I mean, to build a countryside might be an engineering feat too great. Although these Urgland engineers … I wouldn’t put it past them.”

They soon came to a noticeable gap between two big factories. And there was a driveway that wended its way through some trees.

“This must be it,” said Tommy. “I reckon it leads to a place behind Mr Jones’s factory. Come on, Logan. Let’s find this mansion, break in and rescue Freddy.”

“We better keep to the trees,” said Logan. “I don’t fancy being imprisoned with Freddy—even if there’s no law that says we can be imprisoned being as we’re not Britlanders.”

“I think I might have a problem if they take my baseball cap off,” said Tommy.

And so, Logan and Tommy followed the driveway, but from the cover of various trees and bushes that lined it.

“This is an awfully long driveway, as driveways go,” said Tommy.

“More of a private country road,” said Logan.

However, suddenly, the driveway curved acutely to the right.

And from the cover of some wild privet bushes (with their smooth green leaves and their clumps of small white flowers, some with tiny black berries, some with nectar drinking bees), Logan and Tommy’s eyes followed along a final stretch of fifty yards of red gravel driveway. The driveway was splendorously lined on either side with shiny golden statues of wild Earth animals, all seated on black stone pedestals. On the sides of the driveway and its lining of statues was a lush green lawn, and enclosing the entire mansion grounds was a tall red-bricked wall. But when Logan and Tommy’s eyes reached the end of the driveway and they saw the building it serviced, they gawped in amazement and fear.

The mansion was a colossus and quite intimidating. It looked like an Elizabethan type of architecture. There was a main building with two tower buildings, one on each wing of the main building. The main building had six floors and Logan counted twenty large windows across one floor. The two tower buildings had eight floors. The mansion was perfectly symmetrical. It was bold, and it was black, really black, built with huge black stones that matched the pedestals of the golden animal statues that lined the driveway. And also, like the pedestals, the mansion buildings were topped with golden creatures. But these creatures were mythical creatures. Gargoyles, devils, dragons and the like.

“That’s a mansion from Hell, that is,” said Tommy.

“It’s making my hairs stand on end,” added Logan, swatting away a handful of gnats that decided to dance in front of his eyes. He felt frightened and the feeling he had was like the one he experienced during the recent Parry Green thunderstorm.

“If a home could be said to represent its owner,” said Tommy, “then I reckon this mansion is a dead ringer for Mr Dexter. His home is certainly an extension of his wealth, power and personality.”

“Well, Tommy, what do we do now?”

 

4

A CLOSER LOOK AT DEXTER’S MANSION

“WELL, WE NEED to get in the mansion and find Freddy, then escape with him back to Britland. Let’s see … Perhaps we could try to get in the mansion with Mr Dexter’s permission before searching for Freddy.”

“Huh?” Logan couldn’t see how this could be done.

“Well, we know Mr Dexter knows nothing about us. We will look like two ordinary boys to him. Perhaps we can knock on the mansion’s main door and offer to do some cleaning, claiming we’re collecting for charity.”

“But Mr Dexter is rich and powerful. He won’t allow us in his mansion. He won’t be interested in charity, unless it’ll make him richer—look at his mansion.”

“You may be right,” said Tommy, looking deep in thought. Then he added jokingly, “I don’t suppose Mr Dexter’s heard of Bob-a-Job week, either.”

“I think we should just break in,” said Logan hopefully. He didn’t want to risk having anything to do with Mr Dexter or his staff. Moreover, another thought made him even more fearful of such an approach. “I’m not so sure Mr Dexter will not recognise me. Do you remember what Dorothy was saying about the fact that Freddy was probably kidnapped from my bedroom? And you said there must be some sort of connection between my room and Britland at the time just before I started my dream. I think if Mr Dexter somehow stole Freddy from the chair at the foot of my bed, surely he knew about me. So I’m scared he might be able to recognise me.”

“Oh, all right, I agree,” said Tommy. “I think you’re right, Logan. He probably knows all about me too, since he seems to be in the know regarding current Urgland-Britland relations. There’s nothing else for it. We break in. That is to say, we’ll enter the mansion without Mr Dexter’s permission. And once inside, we’ll come up with a plan.”

Logan felt relieved to hear this, as risky as it was probably going to be.

“It’s a huge building,” said Tommy. “The chances of bumping into Mr Dexter will be slim if he’s in. We are more likely to bump into his extremely spoilt six-year-old son Justin, as he’ll probably be making a nuisance of himself all over the mansion, ordering staff to do ridiculous things for him and all that kind of mayhem. Of course, they’ll be lots of servants and supplementary staff, cooks, cleaners, plumbers and electricians, etcetera. I reckon we should break into the back of the mansion somewhere. Once inside the mansion, if we get caught, we’ll just say we’re friends of Justin’s playing hide-and-seek, and then make a run for it while our discoverer is thinking such an unlikely tale over.”

“The back of the mansion sounds the best place to break in, all right.” Logan pointed over to his left. “We can get to the mansion under the cover of all those bushes by the mansion grounds’ outer wall. At least we’ll get close to the mansion without being spotted.”

“Unless there are security devices on those walls. We best keep as alert and as undercover as possible to increase our chances of not being detected.”

“What sort of room will we break into?” said Logan.

“A room near a kitchen area might be a good idea as it might have a window that’s either open or can easily be forced open to release the heat and some of the smell that can’t easily be handled by any ventilation system.”

“How are we going to find out where the kitchen area is?”

“Using our noses! Rich people are always having things cooked. Most of it is never eaten.”

“I bet there’s cakes and pies and all kinds of things going to waste.” Logan thought it would be nice to eat a scrumptious cake or a wholesome pie right now and wash it down with a nice cup of tea.”

“Yes, and you never know,” said Tommy, “we might think of a better place to break in once we’ve had a good look at the back of the mansion. And when we do get inside, it might be worth remembering that spoilt little Justin will be the weak link in the mansion’s security. After all, I reckon Mr Dexter shared some of his spying of Britland, and maybe of Earth if our England-Britland connection theory has any truth to it, with Justin. And I would think that Justin took a liking to Freddy and insisted on having him. Justin is a boy, so we should be able to make friends with him by telling him we can get him things no one else can, or something like that. Once he’s our friend, we might be able to trick him into releasing Freddy or in giving away the method by which we can release Freddy.”

“Did I take a liking to Freddy when he was in Mr Tomboli’s shop the same way Justin took a liking to him?”

“No, I don’t think so. When Debbie said at the garages that Mr Tomboli gave you Freddy, you said you asked for Freddy. And she said it was a happy coincidence. But I think the person who did the choosing was Freddy! He chose you. He must have sensed he was in danger. His senses must have told him that you would risk anything to save him. You somehow sensed it too.”

“Like I did in the thunderstorm when I risked being struck by lightning to save him from the thunderstorm, which you and Debbie said was a wormhole—whatever that is? It was that storm that made me so tired and fall asleep and only hear the beginning of your first adventure in Britland?”

“Yes. And good for you for saving Freddy, Logan. After all, what are friends for?”

Logan smiled at Tommy. It’s not every day you’re reminded your friend is a football.

“Come on, Logan, let’s go.”

Logan and Tommy darted through some trees and bushes, keeping low when in any exposed areas until they reached the outside wall of the mansion’s grounds.

They skirted the wall where, thankfully, there were plenty of bushes to hide their approach. Although Logan was scared, he was excited too, and he couldn’t decide which one of these feelings was making his heart beat so fast and hard. It was strange to feel himself more alive in a dream than ever he did while awake.

They passed the golden lion, tiger, elephant, gorilla and python and the wall was arcing quickly towards the mansion where it disappeared around the back. And just twenty yards from the front of the mansion to their right, Logan noticed something unusual.

“Look!” said Logan, pointing up above the mansion.

“What? Is it a flying device? Perhaps acting as security cameras or something? I can’t see anything, though your eyes are better than mine—I’m sure of that!”

“I don’t know what it is?”

“Huh?”

“Well, it’s sort of like an upside down icicle,” said Logan.

“Where is it?”

“See where the tower building joins on to the main building, just next to the golden dragon that roars up to the sky?”

“I see the dragon just to the right of the tower’s edging with the main building,” said Tommy.

“Well, the icicle sort of thing runs up high into the sky from somewhere just behind the edge of that tower. See it now?”

“Oh, I see it now,” said Tommy. “And more to the point, I’m sure I know what that is!”

“What?”

“It’s an air-vent!”

“Really?”

“Yes,” said Tommy. “The upside down icicle really runs right up to the sky, the roof. It’s just it’s cloaked with some sort of invisibility system, so that you don’t see it the farther away it is. That’s why it’s coming to a point before reaching the sky. Remember, Freddy shouted up to the garages in Parry Blue. His voice would have travelled through the mansion’s air-ventilation system, then up a mansion air-vent for the start of its journey through a system of air-vents. It might have been this air-vent or there might be another one rising from the mansion that we can’t see from the position we’re in. This mansion is so symmetrical, I’d expect another air-vent running up just behind the inside edge of the far tower.”

“I can’t see any icicle thing on the far tower, Tommy.”

“That might be because we are too far away, you see. These Urgland engineers are terrific though, aren’t they? They have designed their air-vents so they don’t disturb the aesthetic scenery of their world. We can only see the near tower air-vent because we are getting close to it. There’s no sun in the sky-roof above, yet it is just like a sunny day. The light does seem to be coming from the blue-painted roof of this incredible world. I reckon this consistent source of light helps in their design of these cloaked air-vents.”

“How d’you know the light’s coming from the sky?”

“Well, haven’t you noticed our shadows?”

“What about them?”

“They’re slightly blurry at the edges and they are directly beneath us, as if we were beneath a midday sun. This is consistent with light coming down directly from above.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” said Logan, puffing his cheeks up and letting loose a short, sharp burst of breath. “Let’s get farther around the back of the mansion and get a closer view of the air-vent,” suggested Logan.

“Follow me!” said Tommy enthusiastically.