‘The Book?’ Emily asked, suddenly remembering that there were important things happening on Earth.
Castor’s screen flashed up an image of a sailing boat carving a white furrow across the deep blue sea as it raced down the waves.
‘There it is,’ said Castor. ‘We’ve been watching it closely. Zeus is worried.’
‘Where is it?’
The view zoomed out until the boot of Italy was visible with the track of the small boat shown in blue. Castor then zoomed back in again to show the boat close up.
‘It’s a Nile River dhow,’ he said.
Its twin masts creaked and groaned under a spread of red canvas as a stiff southerly breeze pushed the battered old craft up into the Adriatic. Dark skinned Arab seamen wearing loose clothing learned up against the gunnels smoking and drinking mint tea. Their relaxed manner contrasted sharply with that of the burly, clean-cut soldiers dressed in green and brown camouflage uniform. Four of them guarded the deck, one at the front, one at the back, one to port and the other to starboard, each banishing a large gun and standing still and alert. Two seamen fought with the wheel to keep the vessel on course as it surged ahead in the following sea. Seagulls circled overhead and dolphins splashed around the bow, which sported the figurehead of a lion.
‘Why not use a plane or a helicopter?’ asked Emily.
‘They tried to, but don’t understand The Book, and have had to retrieve it from two lots of wreckage so far.’
‘Where’s it going to?’
‘It took us a long time to figure it out. She’s very cunning, very discreet.’
‘Who?’
A picture of a beautiful woman wearing a sparkling, black ball gown filled the screen. She was stunning. All the curves and bumps were in the right places and she wore a wide, confident smile on her handsome face.
‘Ariella, she’s the darling of Europe. She’s a Lebanese princess, a socialite who has used her assets to their full advantage, charming her way up the political ladder. She has no real policies, or affiliations but everyone loves her, quite literally. Here are some of her boy friends and lovers.’
The screen filled with well-known politicians, royals, celebrities and business leaders.
‘She’s beautiful, charming and evil. What you teroids call a witch. Ten years ago she gave birth to a child, a daughter named Petra. The father is the King of Sweden, very handsome, very conservative, very correct and happily married with three children. He still has fond memories of Ariella but knows nothing of the baby.
‘Petra is the opposite of Ariella; she is all sunshine and goodness. Ariella could hardly bear to touch her. Here’s Ariella picking her up shortly after birth.’
The screen showed Ariella picking up a newborn baby, then dropping it like it was burning her hands and kicking it away.
‘That’s awful!’ said Emily, covering her eyes.
‘She was going to kill the baby, but being the cunning vixen that she is, came up with a plan. Even then she had political desires and arranged for a well-publicised kidnapping of the baby, which has been raised in total secrecy on this little Croatian island.’
The screen zoomed in on a rock with a lighthouse on it.
‘The Croatians think that they’re doing Ariella a favour. But Petra is just another pawn in Ariella’s game; completely expendable and positioned ready to be used for maximum political advantage when the time comes. Petra is being raised by ex-special forces soldiers, Mario and Jasmina. They’re the best of the elite. They’ve raised her from a baby and love her as their own. Recently they had twins of their own, so really have their hands full. Here’s Petra.’
The screen zoomed in to show a pretty girl with tousled red hair sitting on a swing under a gnarled olive tree. She looked sad and lonely. At her feet lay a dog; a very old and tattered dog, browny-black, blotchy and very familiar.
‘It’s Spot, the Suez dog!’ exclaimed Emily. ‘And there’s Molly.’
‘It’s good that they’ve arrived. The dhow is heading for Venice but Zeus is keen for The Book to end up in Petra’s hands rather than her evil mother’s. There’ll be a storm, a storm like has never blown in the Adriatic before.’
Seeing Molly the cagoon reminded Emily of Negrita and Enzo.
‘Must be going,’ she said. ‘Thanks for the game.’
Click! Zimp!
Jupiter having already set, it was pitch black when Emily arrived home, the only light being a green flash of phosphorescence every time a wave sloshed up the beach. Once her eyes had accustomed to the darkness, she could just pick out the black shape of Negrita curled up next to her on the sofa. Snuggled up beside Negrita, almost hidden by her paws was a glowing ball, Enzo!