The Neanderthal Secret – Opening Chapters

1

THE ROBOTIC FLY

THE HAMILTON CHILDREN, Stephen, Madison, Paul and Jade, aged twelve, eleven, nine and seven, respectively, were happily enjoying their last Sunday summer picnic before the beginning of the autumn school term. They were relaxing on some mowed grass in a clearing in the middle of some of the woods just inside the grounds of Black Park in the Slough area. They lived in nearby George Green in Blinco Lane, just an hour’s walk away.

“Aah,” cried Jade, looking up at the sky while spouting a fountain of jam roll out of her mouth in surprise.

“What is it?” asked Paul. “Have you spotted another wasp? I think we brought too many pieces of food with jam in them.”

“No, it’s all right,” replied Jade, wiping some jam roll crumbs off her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s not another wasp. I just thought for a minute I saw the sun’s skeleton.”

This caused the other Hamiltons to raise their eyebrows in befuddlement.

“What are you talking about?” asked Madison.

“I was following the path of an aeroplane when suddenly I spied the full Moon. I just didn’t expect to see the Moon in the middle of a bright summer’s day. So I just thought it was for some silly reason the sun’s skeleton.”

“The Moon only comes out at night, silly,” said Paul. “That jam roll has gone to your head.”

“No,” said Stephen quickly. “I’m afraid you’re wrong, Paul. The Moon comes out in the day just as much as it does in the night.” He pointed up to the sky. “See, Paul? There it is. Pretty close to the sun. And I suppose, describing it as the skeleton of the sun is understandable and quite clever of Jade really.”

“Crikey,” said Paul. “It really is in the sky. I’ve never noticed that before. The teachers never told us that.”

“Well, you can’t argue with reality, can you?” said Madison.

“Of course not,” replied Paul. “Sorry about that, Jade. The only silly person at this picnic is me.”

“Strange to think that people walked on the Moon many years ago,” said Stephen, still staring up at the sun skeleton.

“It can’t have been up to much if they’ve never gone back in all these years,” said Madison. “I mean, what is there to do on the Moon? The only life on the Moon was when all those American astronauts walked on it, and that was only for less than a couple of weeks in total.”

“Would you want to go there, just for a visit?” asked Stephen to Madison.

“A short visit. Yes. It would be good fun jumping up and down and feeling the lighter gravity. I might finally get to do a front somersault.”

“Well, as it’s obvious we’re never going to get the chance to go to the Moon, how about getting out the coffee flask?” asked Paul of Stephen. “I’m stuffed full of jam sandwiches. A nice paper cup of coffee might help me digest it all.”

Without a word, Stephen plucked out a large coffee flask from his backpack and four concertinaed paper cups. He carefully unscrewed the flask’s top and poured out four cups of coffee. Madison grabbed two, one for herself and one for Jade. And Paul, who was nearest to Stephen, just rolled himself to his cup before walking on his knees back to his place.

“Aah” cried Jade, for the second time. Only this time she cried much louder and look much more surprised.

“Now what?” said Paul. “Have you spotted the skeleton of a wasp?”

Jade was staring downwards, and her eyebrows appeared to be competing with each other in a befuddlement competition.

“Come on,” said Madison. “What is it this time?”

“Everybody keep dead still,” warned Jade in a hushed, serious undertone. “I have not spotted the skeleton of a wasp. I spotted something far more amazing.”

“Is it a bumblebee in a tutu?” asked Paul.

“Quiet, Paul,” said Jade, “or you’ll frighten it away.”

“Frighten what away?” asked Stephen.

“That metal fly!” Jade pointed at the remains of her ham and tomato sandwich, just as the fly walked over the crest of some ham so that it was in full view of all the Hamilton children.

For a few seconds, the Hamilton children were mesmerised by the fly. It was definitely made of some kind of metal. Its silvery body glared in the bright sunshine.

“It’s a robotic fly!” exclaimed Madison.

“It’s impossible, is what it is,” said Stephen. “It seems to be nibbling away at the ham. Why would anyone create such a device? How could anyone create such a device? It’s definitely impossible.”

“I said it once,” said Madison, “and I’ll say it again. You can’t argue with reality, can you?”

“If we can only capture it,” said Paul.

But just then, the robotic fly flew off the remains of Jade’s ham and tomato sandwich and buzzed around lazily before disappearing.

“That’s scuppered any ideas of capturing the robotic fly,” said Madison. “What a pity.”

“Not necessarily,” said Stephen. “I think there might be a way to capture it. A way that ironically would be hopeless if it were a real fly.”

“How, Stephen?” asked Jade.

“Well, the fly seems to have been built to behave exactly like a real fly, even to the point of eating food. If it has the senses of a real fly, it will have a very powerful sense of smell. It is a bit like a shark can smell blood through the water at great distances. The fly can smell jam at great distances. And we’ve got jam. There’s some still left in my jam sandwiches and there’s some on Madison’s jam scones.”

“There are a few tiny bits that I spewed up from my jam roll,” said Jade, trying to sound helpful.

“That’s all very well,” said Madison. “But even if we attracted the fly back to us, it would not be easy to capture it. You said there might be a way to capture it that would not work on an ordinary fly. So what is your idea?”

“Magnetism,” answered Stephen.

“What!” exclaimed Paul.

“We put all the food away and smear a thick layer of jam on a magnet. The fly will land on the magnet to eat the jam. And Robert’s our Dad’s brother. Hey presto! We’ve captured the robotic fly.”

“Dad’s brother isn’t called Robert,” protested Jade. “He’s called Patrick.”

“Stephen’s trying to be clever with words,” said Madison. “He said ‘Robert’s our Dad’s brother’, meaning Bob’s your uncle.”

“But Bob isn’t my uncle, Patrick is.”

“Never mind, Jade,” said Madison. “I’ll explain later. Meanwhile, we don’t have any magnets, do we?”

“Ah, but we do,” said Stephen.

“Have you got a magnet then?” asked Paul.

“Not that belongs to me.”

“Well, how do you know one of us has got a magnet?” asked Madison.

“I don’t think any of you have your own magnet.”

“What are you talking about then?” asked a confused Paul

“Our radio!” said Stephen triumphantly.

“How can a radio be a magnet when it’s a radio?” asked Jade.

“The radio itself isn’t a magnet,” said Stephen, “but the speaker inside it has a magnet behind it, at its base. All we’ve got to do is take the back off the radio, and I’m sure the back of the speaker will be in plain view. Then we just smear the jam on that. And then we just leave the radio at a reasonable distance so we don’t put the fly off, assuming it comes back, lured by the smell of the jam.”

Paul quickly grabbed the radio and looked at its back cover.

“All we need is a screwdriver,” he said. “Fiddlesticks, we’re so close to trying out Stephen’s idea.”

“We don’t need a screwdriver,” said Madison. “Look at the size of those screws. We can unscrew them with a small coin. I’ve got a five pence piece. That will easily do the job.”

Madison scampered over to join Paul, whipped out a five pence piece from the pocket of her jeans, and quickly unscrewed the back cover off the body of the radio.

“There,” she said, pointing at a circular top shape, “that’s the back of the speaker. Provided the robotic fly is made of a metal that can be magnetised, such as steel, at least, the fly would be trapped. At close range, the speaker magnet is quite powerful. The fly could never escape the force of its magnetic attraction.”

“Well, let’s hurry up then,” said Stephen, “or that fly will soon be finding its way to Slough Trading Estate. There’s a huge jam biscuit factory in Dundee Road, right next door to the Mars sweet factory. If the fly gets a whiff of any of that lot, we can kiss any capture goodbye.”

At great speed, the children collected up all of their food and securely packed it away in plastic carrier bags, which they neatly stuffed in their backpacks. Stephen placed the radio on its front so that the back, with its cover removed, was exposed up to the sky. He placed it ten feet away, far enough so that the children would not distract the hopefully returning robotic fly, and near enough so they could spot it the moment it hopefully landed on the jam-smeared circular casing enclosing the back of the speaker’s magnet.

“Well, all we can do is wait,” said Stephen, returning to the others. “It might seem like a long shot, but think of those infamous BBC flies. Once they appear in the studio, no matter how much they’re put off, they always seem to come back and interrupt any live shows. I’m sure we’ve got at least a 50-50 chance.”

“We’ll soon find out,” said Madison.

“Jade, what are you doing?” asked Paul, noticing Jade crawling on the grass in front of her.

“I’m just searching for the crumbs of my jam roll that I spewed up when I saw the skeleton of the sun. Don’t worry, I’m also picking up any other crumbs too.”

“I suppose every little bit helps,” said Paul. “I’ll give you a hand. Should help to relieve the tension of waiting for that robotic fly.”

Ten minutes later …

“I think we’ve missed the window of opportunity in which to capture the fly,” said Madison. “I think it must be on its way to the jam biscuit factory. How long do you think we should wait before giving up all hope, Stephen?”

“I’ve no idea, but if it hasn’t arrived in the next twenty minutes, speaking for myself, I’ll have given up all hope. Remember, though—patience is a virtue.”

“What does that mean?” asked Jade, her eyebrows well scrunched up, to match her snub nose.

“It means we’ve got to wait and try not to get angry that we might not capture the fly,” said Madison. “We’ve got to keep our hopes high and not get upset if we fail. Never forget, Jade, that no matter how interesting and remarkable that robotic fly is, no one here or in the whole world would rather it existed than you did.”

Jade probably didn’t understand what Madison was saying, but she smiled nonetheless.

Then, five minutes later …

 

2

TESTING THE MASTER QUIZMASTER

JADE WAS FIRST to spot the return of the robotic fly as it buzzed overhead before spiralling down lazily in the hot summer’s sun towards the jam on the back of the speaker. She stood up with her eyes wide open, holding a finger to her mouth, gesturing for silence and frantically pointing at the radio.

The children watched with bated breath as the robotic fly gently alighted onto the jam’s scrumptious surface.

“Quick, Stephen,” said Madison, “get ready with your empty see-through plastic earphones container. Otherwise, the fly might manage to crawl its way out of the jam and walk right off the back of the speaker, and escape.”

“I’m ready,” said Stephen, showing Madison the see-through round plastic earphones tub. “I’m just giving it another ten seconds or so, so that the fly’s legs sink right to the bottom of the layer of jam and stick more powerfully to the speaker’s magnet. In any case, look at the fly! It’s shuddering. I don’t think that has a chance of flying to safety or lifting its legs up to trudge through the jam.”

Stephen immediately rushed over to the radio, and quickly, aided by some card, securely imprisoned the robotic fly in his earphones container.

“I’ve got it!” he shouted, victoriously, rushing back to show the others the trapped fly. Now they could get a really good look at it.

“Jam, glorious jam,” said Madison, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “The number one household attractor of flies. Gotcha!”

“Magnetism, glorious magnetism,” added Stephen. “A force millions of times more powerful than gravity, but in short supply. Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for the robotic fly, we had access to a supply.”

“D’you think maybe it’s a normal fly wearing a suit of armour, like olden day knights?” asked Jade, mesmerised by the metallic fly that buzzed and squirmed around in the see-through container trying to escape its plastic prison.

“I doubt it,” said Stephen. “How would such a suit of armour be manufactured and fitted. In any case, even its tongue seems to be made of metal. See it? Anyway, let’s get it home and show it to Dad. It’s an important find and he’ll know what to do.”

Stephen carefully pushed the see-through container into a small pocket on the inside of his backpack that he could securely zip up.

“There,” he said, “dare I say it, but that robotic fly is trapped as snug as a bug in my backpack. We wouldn’t want it to escape after our magnificent success in its capture.”

And so the Hamilton children set off through the clearing, through the woods and out of the grounds of Black Park. They quickly emerged onto the Black Park Road and headed southwards to the Uxbridge Road, which would lead them to George Green and eventually to their own street, Blinco Lane.

Just under an hour after leaving the clearing, they arrived excitedly at their house.

“Dad! Dad!” shouted Jade, as she charged down the hall towards the living room where her dad was usually sitting in the living room on his favourite armchair reading a book on politics. She charged into the living room with the others trampling in behind her like a horde of excited baby rhinoceroses. “Dad, put away your boring old book. We’ve got something more interesting for you to look at.”

“My,” said Mister Hamilton, who was a taxi driver with one of the highest intelligence and general knowledge ratings in the country, having won the TV show Mastermind only last year, “you lot look particularly excited. But I’d be surprised if you had anything more exciting for me to look at and the contents of this book on the fifth president of the United States. Did you know that—‍”

“Dad,” interrupted Stephen, “for once Jade really does have something more interesting for you to look at than your political books, no matter how interesting they probably are to somebody like you.”

“Seriously?” Mr Hamilton, unusually for him, looked intrigued at his children. He could no doubt sense that they must have something of extremely unusual interest to show him.

“You’re brainy, Dad,” said Stephen, “so we’ll give you a clue as to an item that I have in my backpack. Let’s see if you can guess what it is?”

“Oh yes,” said Jade, giving a little jump of excitement, “that sounds a like a very fun idea.”

“Go on then,” sighed Mr Hamilton, putting his book onto his armchair’s side table.

“Well,” said Stephen, “it’s very small and in my small plastic see-through circular earphones container. That is your first clue. Any ideas?”

“Easy. An obvious trick question. Like, what is the nearest star to the Earth? The answer being the sun. My first guess is your earphones.”

“Wrong. Come on, Dad. Would we really think my earphones are more interesting than your political book? Well, maybe Jade would. But she’s only a couple of months over the age of seven.”

“Fair enough,” agreed Mr Hamilton, with a nod of his happy head. “Next clue please.”

“It’s something that we captured at our picnic in a clearing in the woods of Black Park, and it’s buzzing and kicking and squirming in its efforts to escape its plastic prison.”

“Well …” said Mr Hamilton, stroking his chin. “It’s obviously some sort of insect. A bumblebee would probably be too big since you said it was ‘very small’. So given you were having a picnic which featured lots of food, especially of the sugary variety, the number one contender, as an answer, must be a wasp. But I suppose it could be some sort of large fly. Maybe a bluebottle. But there again, surely, neither of my answers would be something to write home about. It must be something even more interesting. What can it be? I’m good at giving answers to questions that have one, but you’re asking me to give an answer that I can’t definitively know. Anyway. I’ll say a wasp, just to get more clues.”

“That was quite a good effort, Dad,” said Madison. “You were warm at one point.”

“So is it a fly of some kind, Stephen?”

“It is, but you have to say what sort of fly it is. That is what is what makes this fly so interesting.”

“A bluebottle with one wing? A greenbottle with three wings? A common or garden household fly wearing a top hat? Ah, maybe it’s a dragonfly! But no—they could never be described as small and adequately fit in your earplugs case. Honestly, I’m sure the answer is so unusual that I’ll never get it without more clues.”

“You’re dead right there, Dad,” said Paul.

“Give me another clue then, Stephen.”

“Okay. We captured it with jam and the help of the radio.”

“This is very intriguing. I’m enjoying this more than I’ve enjoyed the quiz shows I’ve been on. The only thing I can think of is that you lured the fly by playing it some mesmerising music. If it was a bumblebee, I might have guessed that you played Rimsky-Korsakov’s ‘The Flight of the Bumblebee’. But jokes aside, there are no sounds from a radio that would attract the fly. So it must be something else associated with the radio.”

“You’re getting awfully warm, Dad,” said Madison.

“Let me see now …” Mr Hamilton lightly banged his forehead with his fist. “Something to do with the radio. And jam, of course.”

After a few seconds of deep thought, Mr Hamilton suddenly raised a finger …

“Aha, I think I’ve got the beginnings of the answer.”

“Go on then, Dad,” said Stephen. “Surprise us with your brilliant mind, before we surprise you with our unbelievable find.”

“It must be something to do with the radio speaker’s magnet. That is the only item in the radio that could stop something moving. And that would mean that the fly must be made of metal. Or at least be wearing tiny metal boots.”

Jade clapped her hands and amazed at how brainy her dad was. “I can’t believe you thought of that, Daddy.”

“Well, it can’t be a metal fly,” said Mr Hamilton. “So I assume some naughty boy has probably soldered some metal on to the fly’s feet.”

“Sorry, Dad,” said Stephen, “but believe it or not, your guess that the fly could be made of metal, was the correct guess.”

“Come on,” said Mr Hamilton with a sarcastic laugh. “You kids are winding me up.”

“For the third time today,” said Madison, “you can’t argue with reality, can you? Go on, Stephen, show Dad the robotic fly and put him out of his misery.”

Stephen carefully unzipped the small inner pocket of his backpack and plucked out a small circular see-through container and carefully handed it to his dad.

“Make sure it doesn’t get open, Dad. That robotic fly must be priceless.”

“Good grief!” exclaimed Mr Hamilton, hardly believing the sight that met his eyes. “How extraordinary. Impossible.”

“That’s exactly what Stephen said,” said Madison. “Maybe Stephen will grow up to be brainy, just like you.”

“And maybe you will,” quickly replied Mr Hamilton. “And don’t forget Paul and Jade.”

“It was actually eating the jam, and earlier it was eating some ham from one of Jade’s sandwiches,” said Stephen. “Isn’t it a bit of a waste of time to build such an incredible piece of technology?”

“Hmm … what I would say is that although the fly can behave like an ordinary fly, even to the extent of eating, perhaps that is just a secondary aim. My guess is that it is a sophisticated surveillance device used for spying. I think it must have escaped before it was completed. It would be easy to cover the metal fly with the appearance of a biological fly. Just spraying it with black paint would almost do the job. Of course, to do the reverse, to clothe a biological fly with a suit of armour, would be no mean task.”

“So you’re saying,” said Stephen, “that it’s sort of like a microscopic spying drone?”

“Yes. And the problem with that is, as we look at this fly in your see-through plastic container, there are probably research scientists or military personnel looking at the images that the fly is transmitting through its robotic eyes of all of us. So quickly now, Stephen. Put the container away back in your backpack and leave it in the hallway. Not only can that fly transmit images, it can probably transmit audio too.”

Seconds later, Stephen returned to the living room.

“So where do you think it came from, Dad?” he asked.

“There’s a nearby military research establishment. It’s quite hush-hush. When I deliver people there in my taxi, I’m not allowed through the inner gates. It’s located down a sleepy winding road between Langley and Datchet. I’d rather not tell you where, because of how inquisitive you four are. Knowing that A curiosity killed the cat, I don’t want to find a quartet of dead kittens on my doorstep. Don’t even think of exploring such a place.”

“We might be curious, Dad,” said Paul, “but we’re not stupid.”

“Well, as interesting as the robotic fly might be, we need to inform the nearby military research establishment. We could be in great danger!”

Mr Hamilton immediately plucked out his mobile phone and rang 999; the fire, police and ambulance emergency number.

“Yes,” said Mr Hamilton, when the operator answered his call. “Actually, can you put me through to Langley Military Research Centre? My children have found something of national security importance. Whoever’s in charge of the Langley Military Research Centre, that’s who I need to speak to.”

However, the operator simply burst into laughter.

“Look, I’m serious,” pleaded Mr Hamilton. “Look, you might have seen me on Mastermind last year. It’s me, Ian Hamilton,” added Mr Hamilton in desperation.

Unfortunately, this just caused the operator to laugh even more heartily.

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mr Hamilton,” said the operator, stifling her guffaws, “I’ll put you through to your nearest local Thames Valley Police in Slough.”

Unfortunately, Mr Hamilton did not at first have much better luck with the policewoman manning the control desk at Slough Police Station. But then she recognised his voice from his Mastermind appearances, as she was a fan of the show.

“Oh, Mr Hamilton. It’s you. Last year’s winner of Mastermind. I’ll put you through to the front desk of the Langley Military Research Centre. Even we have no further access other than that. Due to the nature of the call, it will not be logged and no record of the call will be made. That’s the agreement we have with the Langley Military Research Centre. Putting you through now …”

“Thank you,” said Mr Hamilton.

Mr Hamilton had extreme difficulty getting Mr Thompson, the military operator, to put him through to someone of high enough seniority that he felt he would be able to discuss his find with, especially as he refused to give any information of the find. But eventually, Mr Thompson relinquished and put Mr Hamilton through to General Xavier.

“So,” said General Xavier, “Mr Hamilton of Mastermind fame and one of our trusted taxi drivers, I hope you have something worthwhile to say. You’d be surprised at the lunatics I have to deal with from time to time. First, just promise me this. You’re not going to tell me you spotted a UFO, or suffered an alien abduction, are you?”

“Nothing like that. But can you first tell me what the most sophisticated drones are capable of and whether or not they have created microscopic drones the size of a fly?”

“The smallest drones … Six inches across, I’d say. And I don’t think I’d be breaking any secrets of national security if I told you the only place that you’d find a drone the size of a fly or moth or whatever else suits your fancy, would be in a movie or sci-fi TV show.”

“But that’s just you being secretive. Surely you must be working on a surveillance device at least as small as a fly, aren’t you?”

“I assure you that no such technology is anywhere near possible, although some researchers are obviously constantly working on such concepts.”

“Well, General Xavier, the reason I’m ringing you is because we have found a robotic fly. It looks like a silver metal housefly. It behaves exactly like a biological fly. It buzzed around and started to eat the food at my children’s picnic. In fact, my son captured it through the force of magnetism by smearing jam on the underneath of a radio speaker.”

This caused the General, to burst into laughter.

“Mr Hamilton,” he said, gathering himself together, “this isn’t the Twilight Zone or the X-Files, mister. And there was I, thinking I might finally be speaking to a member of the public that isn’t a first-class nutter. To think a deluded nutjob won Mastermind. The mind certainly boggles. Now clear off and stop wasting our time, Hamilton, or I’ll report you to the police. No, maybe I should make that the psychiatric department of Wexham Park Hospital.”

The phone connection went dead …

“That’s interesting,” said Mr Hamilton, not feeling in the slight bit offended. “I don’t think the robotic fly has anything to do with our local military research establishment. And I’m sure we will not get anywhere if we ring General Xavier back.”

“D’you think it’s the Russians?” said Madison.

“Why does it always have to be the Russians when we find something sophisticated that we can’t explain?” questioned Stephen. “Fair play to the Russians. They put in quite a lot of effort, and they’re very smart, but they don’t quite have the money or population. And don’t forget the Chinese. Their technology is on a path to supersede anyone else’s. But right now, particularly as they have put a lot of reserves into militaristic drone technology, I would say the Americans are the more likely culprits.”

“So how did the fly get here?” asked Paul.

“Maybe there’s an American research facility somewhere in this part of the country,” suggested Stephen. “Or maybe it was blown here by the dying winds of their recent huge hurricane that crossed the Atlantic.”

“Come on, you kids,” said Mr Hamilton, “I suggest we go back to the area where you had your picnic and see if we can find anything else of interest. Maybe we’ll find another robotic fly. Or some sort of related robotic evidence. If we do, or if we don’t, I’ll take what we have and drive in my blooming taxi all the way to the military research establishment and hand deliver the fly. At least that will shut up General Xavier!”

“Are we going in the taxi?” asked Jade.

“Just to the main Black Park car park, yes. I’m not driving through the dirt track roads of the park though. My taxi is our livelihood. It’s still a nice summer’s day, so we can walk through the park, through its beautiful woods, and finally find the clearing you had your picnic in. So we’ve all got ten minutes to get ready. Get a move on!”

And so, with that, Mr Hamilton and his four children loaded up some refreshments in their backpacks and set off in search of the picnic area in the woods of Black Park.