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Authors: Arkay Jones

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CHAPTER 11

After their late night bug-hunting expedition, the children were late down to breakfast. Professor Ricardo was already up and waiting for them in the kitchen. He looked as if he had not been to bed at all. That was because he had not been to bed at all.

“We are going for a walk along the river this morning,” he announced. “We're due at Ernie Grumpett's cottage at ten-thirty and it's ten past nine now. So Ella, as soon as you've had your breakfast, feed Toby and ask Mr. Stigggles if he'll turn Toby out into the meadow for the day. Then we'll all need to leave here at ten o'clock sharp. Put on your Wellington boots and, Tim, bring a fishing net and half a dozen small specimen jars. I'll see you all in the yard in half an hour.” With that he was off.

“What's up with him this morning? Seems in a bad mood,” said Tim, between mouthfuls of cereal.

“Well, I think…” Ella started to say.

Tim cut her short. “It wasn't a question that needed an answer,” he retorted. “Can't a man have his breakfast in peace without instructions and debates?”

“Humph! Whatever it is, it seems to be catching anyway,” snorted Ella. “I'm going to feed Toby.” With that she grabbed a piece of toast and made for the door.

“I'll help you,” Jay called out after her, rising to his feet.

“Don't bother!” shouted Ella as she opened the door. “I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself, thank you very much!”

As Jay sat down again with a thump, Tim looked up from his second bowl of cereal and raised his eye-brows. “Women!” he said.

Just over half an hour later the team re-assembled. With everyone in a better mood, they set off through Granger's Meadow to the Grumpett's cottage. On arriving, the Prof knocked on the door and with a click of the latch, Mrs. Grumpett emerged.

“Good morning, Professor,” she smiled. Then she wiped her hands down her apron and, much to Jay's amusement, ruffled Tim's hair. “Hello again, you two. How you've grown, Timmy, since the last holiday. And you too Ella, quite a young lady now.” Ella looked pleased at these predictable observations. Tim felt quite the reverse. ‘Timmy' was not a name he currently favoured.

“And who is this young gentleman?” continued the beaming, Mrs. Grumpett, looking at Jay.

“I'm Jay,” he said. “How do you do?” Then he could not resist adding, whilst looking with a big grin at Tim, “One of Timmy's friends.”

Tim gave him a withering look which clearly meant ‘not for long if you go on like that.' But all this passed Mrs. Grumpet by. She just purred, “How lovely.” Then she called over her shoulder into the cottage, “Ernie, the professor is here with the children.”

Mr. Grumpett squeezed out past his wife with his cap and boots already in place. He grunted goodbye to his wife and then led the group towards the river, the children in front and the professor behind, carrying the equipment. When Mr. Grumpett was safely several yards ahead, explaining to Jay and Ella the best way to catch rabbits, Tim dropped back to walk alongside the professor.

“Is everything alright this morning, Prof?” he asked, his earlier annoyance having mellowed to concern. “What exactly are we looking for at the river?”

“Well, to be honest, I am a bit worried this morning,” said the Prof. “As you know, I have always been very careful with my experiments. Very careful. That's why they have taken me so long. In particular, since I have been using all sorts of insects and plant species in my work, I have been extra careful to ensure that any modifications I make cannot be passed from one species to another. I have to make sure that any genetic modification I achieve is ‘locked in,' as it were. It must not escape or cross into another species. Establishing that absolute control is what has been taking all this time before I could announce my results publicly to the world at large.”

The professor stopped walking and stood still for a moment. He was wondering whether to say any more. Indeed, he was wondering whether he had said too much already. But he had every confidence in Tim's good sense and it was good to talk it through. He looked down at Tim and continued. “Then, last night, Ernie Grumpett caught a fish in the river. A fish with unusual properties that made me think that possibly – only possibly mind – something I have done has affected the water in the river or the vegetation or the insects that the fish eat. I can't see how. I really can't. But I must find out. So, today, we're going to see where Ernie caught that particular fish and take some samples I can analyse. If I have caused some problem, then it's up to me to find the answer.”

Ernie and Jay were some way ahead and stopped to look back and wait. Ella was a few yards further on calling out to Chip, who was investigating new smells by the river bank.

“From this point,” said Ernie, when they were all together again, “we have to leave the path and work our way along the edge of the river towards Blusterton's factory. Watch yourselves, though, 'cause you have to push through plenty of brambles and undergrowth on the bank.”

For a quarter of an hour they made their way slowly along the river side, battling, as Ernie had warned, with overhanging branches and thick undergrowth. At last Ernie stopped. “This is it,” he said. “We can't get no further on the bank because the fence from the factory grounds comes right down to the river here. But if we paddle out a bit, we can get round the fence and I'll show you exactly where I caught that whopping great fish.”

They paddled out uneasily for a few yards, feeling for the stony bed of the river as they went, with Ella accepting Jay's help this time as they steadied one another, step by step. They edged past the point where the high concrete and wire fence came down the bank to the river and then eased their way back to the bank. Ernie pointed to the far side of the river where, thirty metres away, it broadened out into a deep pool.

“That's the spot,” he explained. “It's just opposite a cooling-water outlet from the factory. Sometimes in the autumn and winter you can see steam rising from the water, so the water must be generally warmer there. Perhaps that attracts the insects and the fish wait for them in the deep pool.”

“OK,” said the Prof. “I'll just take some samples. You wait here.” He waded a few metres out into the river and scooped up a jar full of water, which he brought back and handed to Tim. “Pass me that net, please, Jay, I'll get some samples of the vegetation on the river bed.” He waded further out into the river and with the net in his hand he trawled back and forth, taking out the contents of the net every few passes and putting them in another of his sample jars.

Chip stood in the water at the edge of the river barking furiously. His canine experience did not extend to seeing the professor wading about in the middle of a river. He did not know whether to try to swim out to save the professor or stay to protect Ella who, in turn, was trying to hold him back and telling him, unsuccessfully, to quieten down. Tim and Jay had edged out into the river and were by now located between Ella and the Prof, with water almost to the top of their Wellingtons. Together they formed a human chain in order to hand back the samples from the professor to the shore.

Suddenly this effective if noisy arrangement was interrupted by a deep, bellowing voice.

“Oi! What are you lot up to?” Charging down the bank towards them was a security guard from the factory.

“I'm off,” whispered Ernie, hoarsely under his breath, as he brushed past Ella and disappeared into the undergrowth down river.

Chip stood his ground and barked even more furiously. The Prof, marooned in the middle of the river, waved in a friendly manner. Then, in a few phrases more ill-judged than reassuring, he called out “Just taking a few water samples. Nothing to worry about. Just a bit of scientific interest.”

“We'll see about that!” the security guard shouted back. “I suggest you put that ‘orrible little dog of yours on a lead and come along with me. Perhaps you'd like to explain your ‘scientific interest' to the factory manager!”

CHAPTER 12

Ten minutes later, four pairs of Wellington boots stood neatly in a row in the smart reception area of Blusterton International Foods Incorporated. They were being guarded by a small, wet dog who was tied to the leg of the receptionist's desk. The owners of the boots, meanwhile, were standing in their damp socks on the plush carpet of the factory manager's office.

“I accept,” said the factory manager, Mr. Knibbs, “that the river does not belong to us. But you must agree that you were acting suspiciously. And what about those water samples? What's all that about?”

“Well, you see,” the Prof started to explain, “I'm a research scientist interested in the natural sciences. As a naturalist, I …”

He got no further. “A research scientist!” Mr. Knibbs exploded. “A research scientist! Well that explains everything. I've had quite enough of scientists lately, thank you very much! A veritable plague of them! First there was Querulous, now you turn up paddling about in the river…”

This time it was Mr.Knibbs who was interrupted in full flow.

“Querulous!” exclaimed the Prof. “Do you mean Cosmo Querulous?”

“That's the fellow,” responded Mr. Knibbs, looking like thunder as he added sarcastically, “Cosmo Querulous, the great inventor!”

Ignoring the sarcasm, the Prof continued, “I know Cosmo Querulous pretty well. In fact he was once my assistant. I wouldn't call him a great inventor but, without doubt he's a very bright chap, a Doctor of Philosophy in fact and author of many papers on the natural sciences.”

Mr. Knibbs was not reassured by the Prof's assessment of Cosmo, nor was he the least interested in the references to his academic distinctions. On the contrary, the link with the Prof merely appeared to confirm his deepest suspicions.

“Your assistant!” Mr. Knibbs' face was turning a bright scarlet. “So you are in this together, eh?” he continued, glaring accusingly at the four surprised faces looking at him.

Jay, Tim and Ella began to feel even more uncomfortable and shifted about from damp foot to damp foot, wishing they were somewhere else. The Prof, however, just seemed confused at Mr. Knibbs' reaction.

“I really don't know what you mean,” he said. “Dr. Querulous did work for me, it is true. But he left six months ago and I haven't seen or heard of him since. But if he was at your factory, it might well explain something that has been puzzling me.”

“Six months ago, you say,” replied Mr. Knibbs, “that's about the time he came here as our new product scientist.” He looked hard at the Prof and the children. “So what were you doing here, poking around in the river? You must admit it's a bit of a coincidence, what with you linked to Querulous. It's all very suspicious.”

“I agree it does look a bit – shall we say – ‘fishy',” quipped the Prof. Seeing that this remark had not lightened the mood and only provoked a groan from Tim, he continued, “But it is not a coincidence at all. You are right; there is a link of sorts. You see, Querulous and I were both involved in the same area of research. I don't know what he was doing here but I suspect that when he left me and joined your staff, it gave him an opportunity to continue his research independently. What exactly was he doing here?”

Mr. Knibbs' immediate inclination was to answer that it was none of the professor's business and that it was his job to ask the questions of intruders. But the professor, and the children in particular, didn't look like hardened trouble-makers and he hesitated before replying. The brief silence gave Ella a chance to intervene.

“Can we sit down, please? I really am getting very tired,” she said, giving Mr. Knibbs the sweetest smile she could summon up in these difficult circumstances.

Mr. Knibbs, who, in truth, was feeling as uncomfortable as anyone else in this embarrassing confrontation, visibly thawed. “Of course,” he said. “In fact, let's all sit down and try to sort this all out properly.”

In a more relaxed atmosphere, there followed lengthy explanations from both sides. It appeared that Mr. Knibbs, much impressed both by Cosmo Querulous' ‘curriculum vitae' on his application form and by his enthusiasm to ‘get things done' had taken him on as a product development scientist. Blusterton International Foods were in the business of making ‘healthy and natural' snacks aimed primarily at children of school age. It was a competitive market and so Blusterton's were always looking for something “a little different,” as Mr. Knibbs put it. Doctor Querulous had promised just that and had been true to his word. After a few weeks, bright blue apple ‘scrums' were rolling off the production line, followed by pink banana slices, luminous green milk-shakes and purple ‘cheesy bites.' Most importantly, these exciting new products were, as Doctor Querulous had assured the quality control team, absolutely ‘natural.' The secret was in the animal diets and fruit fertilizers. The local cows used for the milk and cheese products had been fed a grass treated by Querulous' special fertilizer as had the apple orchards.

“We stored cases and cases of the new products in the warehouse whilst we waited for my boss at head office to finalize an advertising campaign so that we could launch them, nationwide, in the shops,” continued Mr. Knibbs. “It looked as if I had a winner on my hands. And, obviously I was not the only one to think so. The next thing that happened was that the owner of Blusterton International, Chisholm P. Blusterton Jnr. himself, arrived from abroad in his private jet and glided up to the factory in a fancy big car to see the products for himself. He spent more time with Querulous than with me, chatting away behind closed doors hour after hour. Then, guess what? The two of them rolled off together in Mr. Blusterton's big car and the next thing I heard is that Querulous is heading up a major new research project for the company somewhere abroad.”

“So, since all was well and Cosmo did you a favour,” interrupted Tim, “why were you so cross with us?”

“Because all was certainly not well, young man,” responded Mr. Knibbs. “And he did us no favours at all.” Mr. Knibbs went on to explain that almost as soon as Cosmo had gone off with Mr. Blusterton, things started to go wrong. When the packs of products were about to be loaded in the warehouse for delivery to the shops, it was found that all the attractive colours had changed. Most of the milk and cheese products were now a sludgy brown. The apple ‘scrums' were bluey-grey or black. Most unappetising. Mr Knibbs had rung Mr. Blusterton's office but been told not to worry. It was just a ‘glitch in the process' and a little more research would put it right. Cosmo had obviously charmed Mr. Blusterton too. Mr. Knibbs was told to ‘get rid' of the new products and go back for the time being to making his usual products. But that was over a month ago. Since then not even the original products were coming out properly. Most were not fit to sell.

“But that's not the only thing,” added Mr. Knibbs. He pressed a button on his desk and, when his secretary came in, said, “Ask Mary Dungle to come up, please.”

A short while later there was a knock on the door and a middle-aged lady in an overall and protective cap came in. “Mary works on our production line. She's fond of cheese and rather liked the new ‘cheesy bites,' didn't you, Mary? Would you take off your cap, please?”

Mary with a reticent smile removed her cap to reveal her short, wavy hair. It was bright purple.

Jay, Tim and Ella looked at each other, then at the Prof. They had found it hard to follow Mr. Knibbs' earlier long explanation of happenings at the factory but Mary's plight they could well understand. Something was distinctly wrong and the implication was that they or the Prof were somehow deeply involved. Now they felt more uncomfortable than ever.

The Prof, on the other hand, seemed perfectly relaxed. “Ah, I think I see what has happened here,” he said. “Cosmo left me before we completed our research. That's what I've been working on since. ‘Colour transference' or rather, the limitation of colour transference. My work has been designed to transfer some element or property of, say, one plant or insect to another. But the transfer has to be what I call, ‘species specific.' That is, it has to be locked into the plant-cell or whatever you are working on, so that it cannot escape out again or move on to anything else. This is what Cosmo clearly failed to do. So the purple effect moved on from the ‘cheesy bite' into Mary's hair. Hair is notorious you know for picking up oddities in the body. Don't worry Mary, the colour will disappear naturally in a few weeks.”

Mary Dungle nodded disconsolately. She did not feel much better. A few weeks is a very long time if you don't like bright purple hair.

“And you mustn't worry either, Mr. Knibbs,” the professor continued. “If you agree, I will return the day after tomorrow with some of my laboratory equipment and with the help of my young assistants I am sure we can sort out all your problems very quickly.”

Mr. Knibbs did not look any more reassured than Mary Dungle. But he reasoned with himself that he had to take any opportunity to reverse his current misfortunes and the professor did seem genuine and confident that he knew what he was talking about.

“Alright,” he nodded, “come back on Friday. But I hope I'm not making another big mistake.”

“I can assure you, you're not,” said the professor. “Thank you for your understanding. Once we've sorted things out here I must, however, contact Cosmo Querulous urgently before anything else goes wrong. Can you possibly find out where he is by Friday?”

“I've had no luck so far,” Mr. Knibbs replied. “But I'll try.”

BOOK: The Querulous Effect
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