Toby Thorsen and Lule´s End E-Book

Benjamin Paul Iddings

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 417

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

It all began when a very strange man gave him a letter from his parents, whom he was sure were dead. Toby – his full name was Tobyas Thorsen – was thirteen years old, and not even in a dream had he thought that his foster-parents Hannes and Irmchen could have been part of a plot against him. Did they really want to give him shortly before his fourteenth birthday to a secretive stranger? He only just escaped from the planned kidnapping. During the adventurous flight which followed he got to know Tini, a girl of the same age, who deciphered for him a secret message containing the words “Lule´s End”. In this way he reached Verbola, a land behind the Thought Horizon of human beings. After he had made friends with some of the Timers who lived there, both Toby and Tini discovered that “Lule´s End” stood for the last day of the month of “Elul” in the Jewish calendar. They soon realised that only a few days were left for them to free Toby´s parents and prevent a disastrous attack on Verbola…

Leseprobe

This book is dedicated tomy wife, Gertraud,my daughter Monique,my son Marcel with his wife Yvonne,my beloved grandson, Nicoand my little sunshine Julia Sophie

Special thanks to my friendDr. John Murdoch,who has not only advised me and given me courage,but has translated the entire work (hand written) intoEnglish.

Thanks to the patient Sandra Daubert, who has broughtJohn´s translation into the computer.

Thanks also to Heiko Kottkefor the cover.

And thanks alsoto the wonderful sisters Esther and Miriam Stein,who completed the editorial workas if they had done nothing else in their lives.

CONTENTS

Foreword by Dr. John Murdoch

Introduction by the Author

The Secret Stranger

The Very Last Moment

The Head-hunters

Alone in the Night

A Secret Letter

The Escape

The Deception

The Secret Casket

The New Friend

Doing the Impossible

Getting Tini Free

The Secret of the Diccas

Frontier Patrol

Forbidden?

Do Time-Travellers Really Exist

A Most Peculiar Day

The Kung-Fu Baby

The Preparation

When Can We Start?

Things are becoming Serious

An Unexpected Visit

Not a Dinosaur

The Captured Galazer

At the Last Second

Life or Death

The Second Hiding-Place

Imprisoned

A Dangerous Journey

Rendezvous with Jessica Alba

At the Heart of the Enemy

The Secret Message

A Liar in the Stall

The Release

The Fight for Freedom

Getting Away

Names & Places

General Map

Map of the Wutschlock Cave

Map of Toro

About the Author

Book Tips

Foreword by Dr. John Murdoch

When Benjamin Paul asked me to translate his book into English, I was at first sceptical. My own teenage years were long ago, so what could I expect from a fantasy adventure story for another generation?

Three hundred pages is a lot if you can´t identify yourself with the events which unravel themselves so slowly because you´re not reading freely. And how could I have sympathy with people who can walk through walls or with rooms which seem to be cabins from the outside, but look like massive halls from within?

Thus I started slowly to put the story into another language, and at first I had some difficulty in sympathising with the characters of Toby, Tini, Ursu and the others in representing the good against the bad. It didn´t take long for my attitude to change, because the question of “what happens now?” became ever more pervasive as I went slowly from one chapter to the next. And because Benny doesn´t go straight from point to point, but keeps up the tension by deviating from the direct course of events, I was ever more seized with curiosity and enthusiasm, and finished the translation in a rush.

Now I want to see the pictures of the characters, and find out if they approximate to those I have in my head. It´s no good if every character is of equal fascination for the reader. I´m very fond of Toby and Tini, but I don´t much like Ursu because he seems to me to bumble and delay. But I don´t want to give too much away. Make your own judgements, and I hope that you enjoy the book!

Dr. John Murdoch

Introduction by the Author

This is the first book of the Toby Thorsen series for which I plan to write six. The invention of the story was as exciting for me as the adventures experienced by Toby. It was as if I was fourteen again, and many a night I couldn´t sleep after I had turned off the computer, because what he was doing went on happening in my head.

In some passages in the book (for example Chapter 17, when little Borli is caught by Ursu) I had to laugh so loud when I was writing that my wife became irritated and rushed to me wanting to know what was happening.

This isn´t a “fantasy-story” in the usual sense of the word. It isn´t about magic, fables, or the supernatural. Nor is Toby Thorsen a wizard´s apprentice, although he makes use of techniques from the future, and knows about things we all presume to exist. He isn´t a daredevil, nor is he a inventor of stories. He’s a fourteen-year-old boy who very early has to accept real responsibility. Therefore he realised quickly that everything in life has two sides, fire and water, love and hate, good and evil – and ever and again he has to make a decision.

So that you as reader can quickly get into the story and find your way about, I´ve put a lexicon and three maps on the last few pages.

I´ve got a personal request to make: tell me if and why you like the story. Write to me at [email protected]

And now – I hope you have fun.

Benjamin Paul Iddings

Chapter 1

The Secret Stranger

Toby scurried along the shadowy alley through a hazy and smelly cloud of dust which stank of rubbish and excrement. He coughed and retched so that some of the passers-by stared after him both anxiously and shocked. Over and over again he stumbled over little heaps of junk so that he almost tripped. He constantly felt that he wanted to be sick, but it was as if an iron fist was holding him up on his legs and always driving him on. The terrible youths from the northern suburbs had been chasing him for a quarter of an hour and however hard he tried to concentrate, not a single thought came into his head as to how he could get some help and get away from these disgusting people. Instead, dreadful pictures from his past were racing through his head. Memories of his brutal guardians, the hate-filled faces of his persecutors, the teachers who looked at him with pity, the caring foster-mother. In between he saw for an instant two faces, of a man and a woman, who seemed to be calling to him. His pulse was racing.

Toby was 13 years old and his real name was Tobyas Thorsen. His teachers often called him “a notorious lone-wolf,” although Toby never thought that he was. In reality he was a very sociable person who enjoyed the company of boys and girls of the same age. He liked immensely to be with them, to crack witty jokes, and his laughter was catching for everybody. Even Irmchen, his foster-mother, who sometimes seemed to be a little sad, could laugh heartily over his jokes. As far as he could remember, she and her husband Hannes had told him over and over again that his real parents had died in a car crash shortly after his birth.

Toby had been living for many years at the Crowns. He couldn’t remember exactly when he had come to them – probably as a little baby. His foster-father Hannes was a grumbling and moody man who had drunk away the last vestiges of his mind. At least twice a week he boozed himself silly, so that he could tyrannise everyone who knew him. He regularly beat his wife and afterwards it was the same with Toby. It was better to avoid him when he was sozzled. Mostly he went to sleep after the second bottle of rum, snoring and grunting all the time. The next day, when he had slept out his drunkenness, he would come whining to say that he was so awfully sorry.

Toby remembered all too well that his foster-mother Irmchen had earlier been a dominant and miserly woman who had wanted nothing to do with anybody except Hannes. During the last few years she had very much changed for the better. Now she was a pious person who prayed much and on Sundays went to church. She had regular contact to the brothers and sisters – as she called the members of the congregation – and on weekdays she met some of them in what she called the ‘house group’. Because of her inner peace and friendliness which she radiated despite the dreadful conditions of her home-life, she had become much loved and admired. She had a nice word for everyone and each conversation ended with the words “God be with you”. Apart from her husband Hannes, they were always happy with that!

Richard Momsen and his gang had been terrorising the residents of the northern suburbs for many months. They had been extorting money from some small shop owners and bashing up young people in order to take their cash, cell-phones or designer clothes. They had found Toby in front of the second-hand shop of ‘Cleaner’, as they all called Hubertus van de Coast, who must have been at least 150 years old, and because he lived alone he seemed to be a welcome victim. Toby had only just managed to escape and now they were hunting him and yelling. He shot in the direction of the harbour, because stupidly he had let them cut off his way to his home, but he didn’t know his way around the harbour district as well as the railway goodsyard. There he knew what he was doing so that these hooligans wouldn’t have had a chance to get their hands on him. At the present time that knowledge was of no use to him. The only chance he had was to get into one of the narrow alleyways of the harbour and hope that he could soon find a hiding place. So he rushed past the dirty entrances to the houses, in some of which drunks were sleeping it off or begging passers-by for money. The penetrating music from the many harbour bars, the noise of the carousers, the stink of fish, wine, rubbish bins – none of these did he notice in any way. His only thought was that he must do something to help himself. And that had to be soon because his pursuers were getting ever closer and he could hear their hoots and cries.

How had he got himself into this situation? Alright, Church Street was in their hunting ground and they had warned him several times that he wasn’t to show himself there again. But he had found the address in an old copy of a newspaper, and he had wanted to look deeply into the matter by going there.

It had happened yesterday after school was over. His foster-father Hannes was once again lying completely drunk on the sofa and sleeping with his loud snoring and gurgling noises, it was obvious that he would be staying that way for hours. Toby had escaped into the attic. He often did that because the loathsome man was so often pissed out of his mind. Sometimes he went into a dream world and imagined that he had proper parents who loved and spoilt him. He often thought of the girl whom he saw during every school break, and when she looked at him he always felt completely different. In his dreams he was a hero who bravely fought for his friends and was loved by all. When he had closed the attic trap-door he pushed to the side the old blanket which hung in front of the window. In the dim light he picked out the old sailor’s trunk in the farthest corner. Some old clothes hid it but Toby could have sworn that the last time he had seen it, it had been standing somewhere else. He thought deeply about it but couldn´t find a reasonable explanation, so he stopped puzzling and decided to investigate more closely.

It was easy to open the lock. Between innumerable papers, letters and objects he didn´t know the use of, he found a newspaper that seemed to be very, very old. It was yellow with age and almost torn to pieces. At first he had thought that it was one of the free papers which were dropped every Sunday in front of the house doors. The layout and the name “Toro News” seemed to confirm this. It took some time for Toby to notice that it was written in a completely strange kind of print: letters which he had never seen before which for some reason he was able to read. That was really strange and he scratched his head when he saw an advertisement which somebody had circled with a red pencil. He became curious and looked at it more closely. It was a so-called colonial business and he had heard of the name, van de Coast. There could be no doubt of it because at the edge of the paper, also in red pencil, was a sketch of some streets. It referred to the little junkshop in Church Street in the north of the town.

Toby was shocked when he heard Irmchen calling him, and he tore the advertisement and the street plan out of the paper. He shoved them into his trousers pocket and put everything else quickly and carefully back into the trunk which he then hid under the clothes in the farthest corner of the attic. Nobody would find it there! Who would want to? He was the only person in years to have been there. “I’m coming” he answered the impatient calls of his foster-mother. A couple of moments later he came to a decision: he would visit this shop in Church Street, even though it was in the north of the town and he knew that the gang had meant their threats seriously.

The big placard “Colonial Wares” above Hubertus van de Coast’s shop was as ancient as its owner himself. He was happy to call himself a “Colonial Wares Tradesman” even though the name came from the time when there had been colonies and such shops had specialised in sugar, coffee, tobacco, rice, cocoa, spices and tea. Everybody called him “Cleaner” because he spent the whole long day in his shop with cloths and a feather duster, polishing up his goods and showcases, indifferent as to whether it was the old glasses full of sweets, or the racks with the rest of the confectionery on the counter, or the vast number of antiques from distant lands both on the shelves and leaning against the walls. Or the uncountable number of books in the bookcases behind the counter or the innumerable stuffed animals – and there were even some birds – like a mature lion and a gorilla whose arm reached upwards as if he was clutching at a branch while seeming to be pounding his fist on his chest. Or the very many wall-clocks, which were ticking the whole time and on every hour made a concert of ‘ting-a-ling’ and ‘cuckoo’ noises. Or the junk and trash from innumerable house clearings. Hubertus van de Coast cleaned it all with unbelievable dedication and conscientiousness. Once in a while a tourist erred his way into Church Street. Cleaner would smooth what was left of his hair with his hands, arrange his clothing, quickly rub his hands two or three times on his old linen apron, and wait on the presumed customer with the friendliest smile he could in order to show him his treasures.

Toby had been squatting in front of the shop window, and because the advertisement in the strange newspaper had made him curious, looking carefully at the wares. A good thing! He suddenly saw in the left hand back corner a highly decorated little metal box which looked exactly like the secret seaman’s trunk in the attic. To be sure it was much smaller, about the size of a cigar case. The odd thing was that between the decorations there was written in the same script as in the ancient newspaper the following words: “Kamrintis nuklah meranieht imanty verassnoh.” Toby could read the words, but they had no meaning for him. He stared at the valuable-looking box as if hit by an electric shock, until the curtain directly behind it was pulled aside and he could see the serious face of Cleaner.

What was that? He beckoned Toby to come inside. His hand movements became ever more urgent and he signaled that he should enter through the door of the shop. After Toby had pulled himself together and decided to go in, he had a very funny feeling: Someone is watching me! Instinctively he glanced around and there they were, behind the bushes in the front garden of a house on the other side of the street. Richard Momsen and his gang. It looked like trouble.

Toby at once remembered well how this brutal fellow had often lurked with his mates behind the school in order to rob him of the little pocket money he had. In summer last year they had beaten him up and deliberately broken his left arm. Momsen had forced him to keep silent with the words, “Shut your gob or else we’ll burn down your house.” So he said that he’d had an accident and that was all.

His foster-father had taken no notice of his injury. He was naturally hopelessly drunk, and he’d given Toby a thrashing because his jacket and trousers were covered in dirt from the beating. After it, Irmchen had brought him to the doctor who had treated his arm and put it in plaster of paris for a number of weeks. ‘Boneplumber’, that was what everyone in the district called Doctor Albert Peaceman, who was a small plump man with nickel glasses.

On the door of his surgery there was a big brass plate which always shone as if it had just been polished. On it was written ‘Dr. Albert Peaceman – Specialist and Nuptilogist’. No-one knew what kind of specialist he was and no one had even asked what a Nuptilogist was. This secretive doctor had started work in the railway goods station street at more or less the same time as when fate had taken Toby to his foster-parents.

While all these thoughts and pictures were rushing through his head, Toby´s legs, on their own account, did for him the proper thing to do: they ran away – and that was good! It was truly the wrong time to look into what had happened in the recent past because the idiots from the northern suburbs were right on his heels and he didn’t know his way around the harbour. He had just passed a woman who was ticking off her screaming child, when he stumbled over something and fell.

What had happened was that a stupid cat had run from the right between his legs and had made off as fast as it could. Toby, swearing as loudly as he was able, landed hard on a huge heap of rubbish, consisting of old cardboard boxes, crates and newspapers, and these covered him so that he completely disappeared from view.

Now he was lying underneath the rubbish and felt his heart beating so that the blood was pumping into the tips of his fingers. All his bones were hurting and he felt that his right knee was wet and warm.

“Shit,” he thought, “I’m covered in blood and that will mean trouble with Hannes.” He now heard the gang rushing past the rubbish heap without seeing him. Their voices became fainter until he could hear them no more.

Toby had now forgotten his injuries and his pulse had become normal again. He grinned. He carefully put some of the newspapers aside – just enough so that he could look out. All of a sudden the wet nose of a sniffing dog pushed itself through the gap and a huge slobbery tongue started to lick his face. When he thought that it was all-clear, he struggled out of the rubbish, got to his feet and started to rub the dust off himself. His right knee and elbow had been hurt and they were bleeding. Toby thought that wasn’t so bad, but Hannes would certainly beat him because of his torn jacket and the hole in his trousers.

While he was pondering how he could escape from the coming punishment, all of a sudden there appeared from nowhere this polite and strange-looking man. With his cow boy-like leather hat on his head, his cloak of the same yellow-brown material, his well-tended beard and his grey, almost white hair, he had a very odd appearance. Almost as if he had jumped out of a Hollywood film. Something like a mixture of Indiana Jones and Sean Connery, with the addition of long hair. Whatever and whoever he was, he gave Toby the friendliest smile he had ever seen.

“Hi, hero,” he said in a sympathetic, almost fatherly voice. “Got a lot of problems, eh? This Momsen, the old Crown, the squabbling. Worst of all your foster-father. Wouldn’t like to be in your place myself, my friend.” The man spoke the word ‘father’ in the strangest manner, but before Toby could muster his thoughts the man put his hand on his shoulder, which didn’t upset Toby in the least.

“Got a letter for you. You´re Tobyas Thorsen, I think?” he went on, and without waiting for an answer he gave him a crumpled envelope. As Toby stretched out his hand to take it, the man dropped it as if by accident onto the ground.

“How did you know and where did you get my name from?” asked Toby somewhat puzzled as he stooped to pick up the letter. He didn’t wait for an answer but went on: “How come you’ve got a letter for me and who’s sent it anyway?” Toby got no answer, and when he stood up again the man had vanished without trace. Surprised and a little shocked, Toby looked this way and that but could not see him anywhere. In the meantime dusk was falling and if he wanted to avoid even greater trouble than he would get because of his torn clothes, it was high time to start going home. He stuffed the unopened letter into the inside pocket of his jacket and ran – not as fast as he could – in the direction of his house.

Once again a lot of thoughts kept going through his head. Who was that man who had suddenly appeared and equally as unexpectedly vanished? Why had Cleaner beckoned him to come into his shop? What sort of letter was it? How on earth did the man know his name? What was that little metal box in the showcase window of Cleaner’s shop? In between these scraps of thoughts there appeared in Toby ´s mind the eerily grinning face of Richard Momsen. Panting and snorting, twenty minutes later he turned into Goodsyard Street. He was running more slowly now and went the last few yards at a normal speed so that he could breathe properly and not attract attention to himself when he entered the house.

Chapter 2

The Very Last Moment

Very carefully and quickly Toby opened the front door. Everything was as usual: the stink of alcohol, cigarettes and Irmchen’s cheap perfume. Hannes was snoring loudly, which showed that there was no immediate danger.

“Let him go on making that noise – then he can’t make any trouble today,” thought Toby as he slid by, glancing at the wardrobe mirror in the entrance hall. Suddenly he stood still as if he had been given an electric shock. Had he seen it right? He went a pace backwards to look at the vision again. That couldn’t be possible. He pondered over it. It was really true. A short time ago he’d fallen and ripped his clothes. Now, in the mirror, he saw that there were no tears in the sleeve of his jacket, nor in his trousers. Everything seemed to be as good as new.

He couldn’t believe it as he felt his clothes. But there was really nothing there and the scrapes on his elbow and knee were gone as well, as if they had never been there. While he was taking it all in, the bedroom door was opened quietly.

“There you are at last,” whispered Irmchen in a relieved manner, and as she went past she stroked his untidy hair. She pulled him after her into the kitchen while the finger against her lips told him to keep quiet. She carefully shut the kitchen door, sat down next to the old wooden table, buried her face in her hands and started to weep.

“I’m so ashamed of myself,” she sobbed. “Toby, you´ve got to hide and get away from here. Right now! We’ve sold you.”

“What have you done?” asked Toby, to whom it was all too clear what his foster-mother was saying. He didn’t wait for her answer but said, “You can’t do that – we’re living in the 21st century.”

“I know that Toby! I know it! But we did it all that time ago.” She was moaning now. “We got a lot of money for you when they brought you to us, ten thousand pounds - today that´s five times as much. Hannes has got the money in his trousers pocket. Tomorrow the dreadful man who gave it to him is coming with his mates to pick you up.”

Irmchen started to shake from another fit of compulsive sobbing. Toby got up and sat down on a chair next to her, looked into her tearful eyes and asked: “Why, Mum?” (He always said “Mum” to her when she was sad). “Why did you do it? I’ve never done anything to you. So why are you doing this to me now?”

Irmchen started to catch her breath, tried to bring herself under control and get her thoughts in order. “You know best that I was completely different then from what I am today,” she said. “I know that doesn’t excuse anything but I wasn’t a nice person. We took the money because I wanted to have a holiday by the sea. Then we bought some fancy clothes and we had a couple of parties. That was all. In the years afterwards I kind of forgot it all. That hasn’t been possible recently; it´s as if someone was poking about in an open wound. I wish I could make it not have happened. Will you forgive me, Toby?”

Suddenly Irmchen looked at him in the face and said, “It’s really serious, Toby. We’ve taken the money and this awful Mr. Claw didn’t look as if he was making any jokes. And he has two heavyweight thugs with him. They didn’t look like clowns either. There’s no humour here, Toby.”

She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, pulled an old and dirty handkerchief from her apron pocket and cleaned her nose as well as she could.

“Go and pack a suitcase for yourself. There’s some money for you,” she said. “My friends have put it together for you.” She stuffed some banknotes into his trousers pocket.

“And please, Toby, keep in contact with Boneplumber and tell him where you are so that I won’t die of worry. He’ll find a way of telling me so that Hannes doesn’t catch on.”

Irmchen with time had really got to love Toby and nothing could stop her sobs. She carefully opened the kitchen door and listened, but her unfeeling and tyrannical husband Hannes was still snoring evenly and loudly. She turned to Toby, beckoned him to come to her and whispered: “Hurry up now and keep quiet, my little Toby.”

Toby crept to the place at the end of the corridor which was hardly more than a cupboard and which had been his bedroom for all these years, in order to pack his things. He shoved everything into the shoulder bag which he usually carried his school books in. Then he quickly went to the attic that he loved so well. He opened the trapdoor very carefully so as to not wake Hannes. Because it was pitch dark outside, his hands searched for the old torch which had its place on the left of the wooden beam. “There you are,” he whispered happily as his fingers found it. It only shone dimly because the batteries were very old. His pocket money, with which he had wanted to buy a new one, had been taken from him by Richard Momsen. That didn’t matter any more. First of all, he slithered to the far end of the attic to where he had hidden the sailor’s chest. But apart from the old clothes which he had used to hide it, and which lay scattered all over the floor, there was nothing there. That just wasn’t possible! Had Hannes…?

The thought took away his breath. Had he really found the chest? He felt utterly helpless. His heart was racing. He looked everywhere in the attic. In order to be certain, he crawled into every corner of the attic but no matter what he did, the chest had irrevocably disappeared as mysteriously as it had come. But what was that noise?

Very slowly and with a creaking noise, the trapdoor opened a crack. Toby was alarmed and stared in its direction. If that was Hannes he would have to get away as soon as possible. Maybe through the window onto the roof, but then he recognised Irmchen’s eyes in the torchlight and he felt relieved.

“Hurry up, you’ve got to get moving,” she warned him with a loving sort of whisper.

It was a dark night and mist hung over the street. A dog was barking in the distance and others began to answer it. Some cats were spitting and fighting each other.

The moon could only be dimly made out behind the clouds. They stood next to each other to say goodbye. Irmchen was the unhappiest woman in the world and her fosterson Toby wasn’t sure if he should be miserable or happy. Neither of them knew what the future would bring. She took hold of the boy and hugged him close. Tears ran down her cheeks. She kissed him fiercely on his forehead and ran her right hand through his hair.

“Oh, Toby, if I could only make it not have happened.”

She took him in her arms and whispered in his ear. “You’re a very special person, do you know that?”

“Sure, yes, really, Mum. I know…”

“No, no, I don’t mean that! You really are someone special. You’ve got abilities you don’t know anything about but you’ve got a task in life. Listen to me. You’re here to do something important and these idiots want to stop you. I don’t know any more than that.”

Toby freed himself from her arms and looked into her eyes and asked: “Tell me Mum, did Hannes fetch an old wooden chest from the attic, yesterday or today?”

“Him? Do you think he’d go into the attic? I’m certain that he didn’t. I’d have known about it if he had.” Irmchen was beside herself with sorrow and was sobbing without restraint. “Go now Toby. On your way! Quickly! May God in Heaven protect you.” She pushed him gently in the direction of the street. “Don’t forget to tell Boneplumber where you are. Don’t forget or I’ll die of worry.”

“I’ll do that,” promised Toby as he started on his way.

“I really love you, Toby, I love you so, so much,” called Irmchen but then he heard her no more. He was thinking about the task she said he would have to do as he went into an unknown future. In no time at all he had vanished into the mist…

Chapter 3

The Head-hunters

The knocking on her house door sounded very impatient and Irmchen heard clearly the noise of several male voices. She was frightened, because she knew very well who was outside.

“Hannes!” she called helplessly to her husband, who was still in his drunken stupor. When he failed to answer and the knocking became even louder, she lost her patience, stormed into the living-room and tugged the blanket away from Hannes. “Get up, you useless pissed-up fool! There’s some men at the door. You know what they want. On your feet and do what you have to! Or shall I let them in? That’s a fine idea. Then they’ll see what a useless heap of shit you are. All you do is drink and drink, the idea of working never comes into your mind. If only I had listened to my mother,” she shouted and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Because of the noise she had made, Hannes had woken up. He tried to sit up, but only managed to fall off the sofa and land with a thud on the floor. The knocking on the door became even more threatening.

“Open up! Open up at once or else we’ll bash our way in,” shouted the men. The noise they made echoed in Hannes’ brain and everything around him started to go in circles. He felt ill. Really ill and the alcohol made him dizzy. He carefully tried to stand up but got himself caught in the blanket which was still tangled around his hips. He stumbled and tried to hold fast to the table. All he did was fall over and drag the fruit bowl, bottle, glass, and the overfilled and stinking ashtray together with the tablecloth onto the floor. Without seeming to know what he was doing, he staggered towards the front door, fell with his full weight against it and once again landed on the floor. The knocking stopped at once. The men outside must have been given a shock by the noise. Hannes got unsteadily to his feet, put his clothes to rights and slowly opened the door. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Listen here, you stupid idiot. Don’t you dare to try to fool us. You know exactly who we are and what we want. Carl Claw, you know that name, don’t you, you drunken pig? Sure you do, he’s your ‘guardian angel’!”

Three muscle men in long beige overcoats and black cowboy hats were standing in the hallway. In no way did they look as if they had come for a pleasant chat. Hannes was suddenly wide awake. In a reflex movement he felt in his pocket. The money was there! It really was! He’d been handed it yesterday by this terrible Mr. Claw. It was exactly the sum he had promised as the second payment for the boy the man had brought with him almost fourteen years ago and who he now had to give back shortly before his birthday. For doing that and for not asking any questions Hannes had been given the money. Now the men had come to fetch Toby and the condition was still: no questions! The man had made that absolutely clear. It was all the same to Hannes as to what would happen to the boy. When yesterday the man had waved the money in front of his face and grinned at him in the most frightening way, he had taken it and agreed to hand the boy over today. Now he wanted to finish the transaction as soon as possible. He turned around and shouted: “Toby, come here at once!” Then he shouted as loud as he could: “Tobyas, come here at once, do you hear me?”

Because Toby still didn´t appear, he called for Irmchen to help him. “Hey, you, Irmchen, come here. Tell me where the boy’s been hiding.” He looked at the three men as if he wanted to tell them he was sorry, but now they were inside his house. They shoved Hannes unfeelingly to the side. One of them gripped his collar, pulled him close to his face and hissed angrily: “This is the last time I’ll tell you. Don’t try to fool us again, you pig-faced drunkard.” In disgust he pushed Hannes away because he couldn’t stand the stink of his breath. Hannes staggered backwards, lost his balance and collapsed onto the sofa. At the same time the other two men sat down to the right and left of him so that he couldn’t move. Hannes felt really frightened and began to stammer: “I’m really very sorry, gentlemen. I don’t know where Tobyas is hiding, and I know how valuable your time is.”

The men slowly began to understand that he was in no position to keep the agreement. Hannes had taken the money out of his pocket. He held it up to the man who had given him the shove and stammered: “I’m really, really sorry, but the boy’s not here. You can see that for yourselves. Please take the money and leave.”

The man laughed loudly and mockingly! With one blow of his hand he struck the bundle of banknotes so that they flew like confetti all around the room. He shouted furiously at Hannes Crown: “We don’t want the bloody money. We want the boy! We want him here and now!”

Hannes glanced fearfully at the men to the right and left and again called for Irmchen. She was still in the kitchen where at first she had been very frightened. But the situation in the living room became ever more unpleasant and she reacted by becoming increasingly annoyed at the way the three men were behaving. She was finally furious with them all and wiped her face with a big tea-towel she had taken out of her apron packet. She blew her nose in it and then took an enormous wooden spoon from the kitchen shelf. Three times she took a deep breath and then stormed into the living room.

“You miserable load of crap! You villains! Shame on you all. You take the day from God and frighten poor people who can’t defend themselves from bandits such as you. Get out of here, you vagabonds. Out of my house at once!” She drove the men towards the house door with her cries and blows. When the first two of them had been forced outside, she shoved the last one after them and slammed the door. For a moment all was still, but the silence didn´t last for long. Soon the three men understood that they had been thrown out by one small woman with a wooden spoon. Their boss Carl Claw was not to be allowed to hear of this! For a second time they began to bang on the door. “Open up, you whore! At once, you stupid woman. Give us the boy or…”

At this moment Irmchen flung open the door and faced again the men with fury. She had picked up all the money and shoved it with her left hand into the coat of the nearest man. With her right hand she brandished the wooden spoon and screamed: “Whore? Did you say ‘whore’ to me?” The heavy spoon crashed onto the head of the man as she cried, “He doesn’t live here anymore. Get it? Tobyas Thorsen isn’t here. And you oafs keep your foul faces away! Louts! I’ll call the police, so go away and stay away for ever.” Once again she slammed the door.

Hannes sat on the sofa with staring eyes and open mouth. He was wide awake and had seen everything with amazement. Had it really happened? Had that been his silent and fearful Irmchen? Or had it been one of his drunken dreams? He did the best he could to look at her with eyes of love. But she refused to give him a glance as she stalked past him back into the kitchen.

Chapter 4

Alone in the Night

Toby was feeling extremely unhappy and ran aimlessly through the night. The echoes of his footsteps resounded from the walls of the houses and the noise made him shiver a little. He wasn’t really cold, it wasn’t the weather: it was the uncanny frosty feeling that he had when things weren’t going quite right. His whole body shook with what felt like millions of tiny pinpricks, together with a curious iciness which came like waves from the top to the bottom of his body.

Suddenly he heard from the left – no, more like from behind – a rustling in the bushes. He stopped running and listened into the darkness while at the same time an even more powerful wave of pinpricks coursed through his body and almost paralysed him. His forehead was bathed in sweat and his right hand searched feverishly for his torch. Slowly and carefully he turned in the direction of the noise, while at the same time pulling the torch out of his pocket and aiming it at the bushes. Shocked by the sudden light, two cats leaped onto the pavement directly in front of Toby and fled noisily into the wide street, where they disappeared.

His tension vanished at once and he noticed that his knees were weak so that he seemed to be on the verge of collapse. He felt sick and he breathed deeply and tried to put his thoughts in order. “Only cats,” he said in relief to himself, “only cats.” He turned off the torch and started to move in the direction he had been going in. With his first step he hit something that had not been there before. Shock kept him silent but when he felt a strong hand on his shoulders, he thought that his heart had ceased to beat.

“What are you doing on the street at this hour?” said a male voice quietly. Toby was still unable to speak. It was as if something was blocking his throat. His whole body was shaking. The voice became more friendly. “Don’t be scared, my boy. It was only cats.” Toby recognised under a cowboy hat the face of Cleaner. “Hm…hm, Mr. van de Coast! I’ve got to… yes, I want to, no, I mean, you ought to,” stuttered the fully perplexed Toby.

Hubertus van de Coast looked at him worriedly and pressed his finger to his lips to show that he should be quiet. “It’s all right, my boy. Calm down. You’re Toby Thorsen, aren’t you? Wasn’t it you who was looking at the “Diccas” in my shop window this afternoon?”

“Yes, yes – I mean no. I don’t know what a ‘Diccas’ is.” Then it burst out of him: “Listen to me, please. I’ve been sold. I can never go home again.”

“Not so loud, my boy. They’ve sold you? Who is it who´s sold you?” asked Cleaner.

“It’s the Crowns. My foster parents! Irmchen, my foster-mother, she came up late in the evening and made me go away. I wasn’t ever to go back, she said.” It came out of him in a gushing whisper. “The old bugger was blind drunk again. He’d been given a lot of money and then some men came to fetch me.”

Cleaner put his arm around Toby´s shoulders and guided him across the street, at the same time looking around as if he was frightened that someone would find or follow them. “First of all you’ll come to my house and then we’ll see what we can do,” he said quietly in a friendly way, although it allowed no counter-argument. Toby noticed for the first time that they had reached Church Street and were almost at the Colonial Shop of Hubertus van de Coast. “You’ve got a torch, haven’t you? Would you turn it onto the keyhole, please, Toby Thorsen,” whispered Cleaner, in a way which seemed to show that he was frightened of waking the whole neighbourhood.

He pulled a big bunch of keys out of his pocket and tried carefully, without making any noise, to fit the right ones into the iron grating protecting the shop. He had to open three different locks, one high up, one in the middle and one at the bottom. When he had succeeded, a simple piece of automatic mechanism was about to alert a tiny bell which was fastened to the top side of the inner side of the grating, but Hubertus van de Coast was faster! As quick as lightning he pushed his hand through the gap and grasped the bell before it could perform its duty and perhaps awaken the whole neighbourhood. “Come on,” he whispered, and made a movement of his head to show Toby that he should enter. He carefully felt for the keyholes in order to close the grating again.

While he was doing it, Toby tried to orientate himself in the dim light of the room. The headlights of passing cars moved the shadows of stuffed animals in a ghostly manner across the floor and walls. As well, the uncountable number of wall and grandfather clocks with their different kinds of ticking made a weird sort of concert which caused a shiver to go down his back. But before Toby could find out whether or not he should be afraid, he once again felt Cleaner’s hand on his back out with the murmured words “Now move.” He was propelled in the direction of a corridor at the back of the shop. They pushed aside a heavy, dark red curtain and entered a narrow hallway with two locked doors. On the left side a creaky old staircase led to the floor above. Hubertus van de Coast indicated that Toby should climb up it. The noise he made seemed at first to be dangerously loud. But when suddenly there came from the shop a wild concert of different ‘ding-dongs’ and ‘cuckoos’, he went up the stairs in a very normal way. When they reached the top, Cleaner opened a small door to a room with a key he took from the door frame, and pushed Toby inside. He switched on the light, which was so dim that it didn’t really light up the room.

“This is my daughter Christin’s room. She’s about your age. You’ll soon get to know her. You’ll sleep here tonight but please be as quiet as you can. I’ve no idea if those wicked men will come again.” “Which wicked men do you mean?” asked Toby in an anxious voice. “No worries. Go to sleep now. We’ll talk about it tomorrow over breakfast,” answered Cleaner. He turned round in the doorway and murmured: “And please leave everything as it is. I don’t want to have any trouble when Christin gets back. Goodnight, sleep well, Toby Thorsen.”

So now he was standing in a typical girl’s room. As well as that, he was going to have to sleep in it. At least his friends would not know about it. He looked around. There were three tapestries on the walls, which were all painted pink. Ugh! A couple of pictures of Tokio Hotel, Hannah Montana, High Street Musical and Zac Efron were lumped together in a sort of collage, and on the bed were a lot of tiny cushions together with any number of woolly animals and dolls. He thought for a moment whether he should sleep on a chair, but then he became aware of a strange and musty smell. Probably no one had opened the window during the past few days. Toby wrinkled his nose. He did not know if he was feeling ill because of the odd smell, or the penetrating pink, or the heaps of toys. He turned off the light, went to the window and opened it carefully. He breathed in deeply and that felt good.

Chapter 5

A Secret Letter

What had happened during the past few hours kept going through his head. The seaman’s chest in the attic, he was certain that it had not been standing there before. The newspaper in the unknown script, which to his surprise he could read. The little box in the shop window with the same strange lettering which contained words which he did not know. The street map with red markings next to the advertisement of the Colonial Shop owner. The wild chase getting away from Momsen and his gang. And then this odd Gandalf with the big leather hat on his head. He had the friendly smile of the secretive man in front of his eyes. What was it that he had said? Toby remembered very clearly his words.

“You hero,” he had said. “You’ve got a great number of problems.” And then he had listed exactly what they were. He knew them all: “Momsen, the old Crown, Carl Claw. And add to them your father as well.” That was just what he had said. Also that he did not want to be in Toby´s shoes. And he had said the word ‘father’ in the strangest manner. Wait a moment! With ‘father’ he could not have meant that bugger, because in his list he had mentioned ‘the old Crown’ by name, and afterwards ‘your father’. First the old Crown and then my father…