Molly Moon & the Monster Music (11 page)

A genius? Surely Molly hadn't told these boys she hardly knew about her hypnotic powers?

“In what way?” he asked.

“In what way?” Chokichi laughed. “In her musical way, of course. Wow, can she play guitar! Even with a lifetime's practice I couldn't hope to play that well.”

“Her harmonica's amazin', too,” Gerry agreed.

Rocky must have looked puzzled because Gerry asked, “You do know that, don't you?”

“Of course I do,” Rocky lied, realizing that for
now this might be the best strategy to help him get to the bottom of whatever was going on. “It's just . . . she said she was taking a break from her music.”

“Never!” Hiroyuki exclaimed. “Molly must never stop.”

Rocky got up and went over to Gerry, who was standing by the window looking glum. “What's the matter, Gerry?”

“Oh, I'm cross because Mr. Proila, the band's manager, told me that fish dealers in Tokyo market are selling bluefin tuna. I hate those people. Bluefin are very special rare fish. How come people don't care about saving the beautiful things in our world?”

Rocky squeezed his shoulder. “It's difficult when you care so much about something like that but can't do anything about it because you're a kid.”

“Yes. We just have to watch the bad adults messing things up.”

“Well, when you're older you can be a good adult and fix things.”

Gerry folded his arms. “Yeah? That's a long time to wait, though.”

Soon everyone decided to go to bed. Rocky was taken up to Toka's room, where there was another spare mattress. Gerry got into his bed with his clothes still on and yawned. He lay down and rolled
over.

“By the way, Rocky,” he said, his eyes fluttering as he was already half asleep, “Molly is a bit different. She reminds me of a mouse fed on sugar lumps. She's gone just a little bit crazy.”

Before Rocky could ask any more, Gerry fell asleep. Rocky put on his headphones, opened his computer, and began watching a film. He'd catch Molly when she came in.

When Molly got back to the apartment the main living room was dark except for the lights of Tokyo that filtered in through the blinds. Molly sat down on the sofa and pulled out her coin.

Its power was incredible. It was like some fairy godmother, her powerful friend with concern for Molly's success at its heart. She thought of how Petula and the old woman had attempted to steal it and she gritted her teeth with hatred.

“How did that old bat know about your power?” she whispered to the coin. “Will she tell the boys? Would they believe her? No, they love me now. They'll just think she's a nutty old lady. And what about Petula? I suppose she sensed you. I'll have to keep you always close to me now. Don't worry. I'll look after you properly from now on.”

As she whispered she noticed that something was flickering on the balcony, just as it had the night before. There was definitely a man there. She immediately went to investigate. She squinted out but there was nothing there now. Could it have been just the city lights against the glass? She slid open the glass and stepped out.

Molly peered over the railing. No one was there. Molly frowned. Perhaps her tired eyes were playing tricks on her.

Back inside, she locked the sliding door, puzzled. “It's too high,” she mumbled. “Fourteenth floor. No one could climb up here.”

After changing into silk pajamas, Molly got into bed. She felt excited. Tucking the coin into her pajama pocket, she shut her eyes and pictured her marvelous future. She imagined the awards she would receive. The Emmys and the Grammys, the Oscars and the BAFTAs. Imagining the platinum sales that her CDs would achieve, Molly went to sleep smiling.

At three thirty in the morning, Petula was woken by Gerry's flashing alarm clock. Gerry was quietly getting out of bed, taking care not to wake Toka, or Rocky, who had nodded off in front of his computer.
Petula noticed that Gerry was fully dressed. Was he running away?

Gerry picked up his shoes and jacket and a small camera that stood on the chest of drawers. He sneaked out of his room and tiptoed down the stairs. Petula followed him. As he unlatched the apartment door and opened it, she slipped past his legs to the lobby outside.

“OK, Petula,” Gerry whispered. “You can come with me.”

Instead of using the apartment elevator, Gerry took the stairs. At the bottom he hid until the apartment-building doorman disappeared to his room and then took the opportunity to dash across the lobby.

The city was dark except for streetlamps and a few lights in buildings. Gerry kept to the shadows. He didn't wanted to be spotted.

After a while he paused in front of a food shop beside a life-size plastic model of a samurai warrior that was advertising a brand of wasabi mustard. Here a streetlight cast a beam down and Gerry took a map from his pocket and opened it. A shadow suddenly blocked the light. Startled, he looked up. It was Rocky.

“What are you up to, Gerry?”

Gerry looked cross. “Don't try to stop me, Rocky.
I'm on a mission.”

“A mission?”

“Yes.”

“To do what?”

“You'll see. You can come if you like,” Gerry said cagily.

“Has this got anything to do with Molly?” Rocky asked.

“No. It's to do with sorting a mess out. Someone's got to do it. Are you coming?”

Rocky knew better than to demand an explanation from Gerry now.

“OK. Sounds exciting.”

Gerry and Petula resumed their journey with Rocky. Petula trotted in between the two boys wondering what they were up to. Soon she noticed a smell of fish. As they walked, the fish smell got stronger and stronger and stronger until they arrived at a dead end. Trucks drove in and out of an entrance. People came and went on foot, too. The place was humming, even though it was the middle of the night. Gerry strode toward it with the intention of a hunter. Among the hubbub, he, Rocky, and Petula entered unnoticed.

Inside, men and women in white overalls were hard at work directing forklift trucks as they moved
great frozen objects onto refrigerated trucks. It was like being inside a giant freezer. Cold air billowed from the ceiling, and icy jets hissed out from the walls. Lying in lines on the well-scrubbed concrete floors, in crates or as big frozen lumps, were chunks of fish—cut up and frozen. This, Petula realized, was a massive fish market. The chilly concrete hurt her feet. She didn't know it, but the sign above read:
TSUKIJI FISH MARKET
.

“I think I can guess what you're up to,” Rocky said.

“This is the biggest fish market in the world, Rocky. The Japanese eat more fish per person than anybody else.”

Rocky had a feeling that Gerry might be intending to cause trouble, though he wondered how much trouble a boy of eight could cause in a huge fish market.

“You get every kind of fish 'ere. I looked it up,” Gerry went on. “It's brought in by fishermen and then passed on to dealers who sell it to restaurants or to shops. Come on—let's take a look.”

Rocky and Petula followed Gerry into a labyrinthine warehouse. Petula counted the different types of fish smells as she went. Sardines, sprats, salmon, plaice, sole, swordfish. Herring and mackerel. It was four in the morning, and there were lots of business
deals being done.

Gerry looked only at big fish before moving on. Rocky guessed what he was looking for. Finally they came to a grandstand at the end of the warehouse. Quite a few people were collecting there, preparing to buy.

Gerry picked Petula up and, indicating that Rocky should follow him, he stepped behind a tower of blue plastic boxes so they couldn't be seen.

“Hunting bluefin tuna is almost as bad as hunting whales, Rocky,” he whispered. “I'm going to find the people who are selling it and take photos of them, and I'm going to tell them to stop it.” He fingered the camera that hung round his neck. “The people who buy it are just as bad! Wait till you meet Mr. Proila, Rocky. He's the nastiest bloke in the world. He eats bluefin tuna.”

“Does he have power over Molly?” Rocky asked.

“I don't know. Like I said last night, she's gone a bit crazy.”

Rocky nodded and was then distracted by the people in front of him. “They look suspicious,” he couldn't help suggesting. He was catching the spirit of Gerry's mission. Part of him thought it was mad to take on a bunch of fish dealers, yet part of him couldn't resist. So when Gerry darted forward and
hid behind another stack of pallets, even closer to the crowd, Rocky followed him. They noticed that some people were going through a plastic door beside the grandstand. “We need to get in there,” mouthed Gerry, pointing.

The problem was a guard who was standing beside the door. Gerry took a calculated risk. Using a nearby broom, he used it to push a pile of crates a little way away from their hiding place off balance. When the crates came clattering down, the guard on the door went to investigate. Gerry and Rocky ducked through the door and found themselves in another icy chamber.

Quickly they dived behind a forklift truck. Catching their breath, they looked about. More people came in, each one looking furtively about. Rocky saw that Gerry was right. Some sort of underhanded business was going on in this room, and he agreed that if it was bluefin dealing, then it had to be stopped.

An elderly man in a dark blue smock and black rubber boots stepped up onto a platform at the front of the room where there was a lectern. He seemed to be the person everyone was waiting for, because a hush fell when they saw him. He put on a pair of spectacles and took a small hammer out of his
pocket. A woman stepped up and, with a dramatic flourish, stripped some black canopies away, revealing one huge slab of meat. Gerry and Rocky realized instantly that it was whale.

Gerry was suddenly frightened. His eyes flitted about the room. This was far more serious than killing bluefin tuna. Whales were the greatest creatures of the ocean. It was completely horrific to kill and eat whales. Gerry put Petula down, put his camera up to his eye, and began nervously to take pictures.

Bidding began and soon became heated. As the auction went on, Gerry became more and more furious. He felt like running onto the dais and shouting a stream of abuse at everyone there, but his more sensible side held him back.

“We need to find out who's hunting the whales,” he said quietly to Rocky.

Rocky, who could hardly believe what they were witnessing, nodded.

Gerry picked Petula up again and the boys made a beeline for the door through which more whale meat was being carried. They slipped through easily because all eyes were on the frenzied auction on the stage.

Beyond the doors was an empty street where a truck was parked with its rear doors open. Inside the
truck were a few sheets of black plastic identical to those covering the whale meat inside. Gerry clutched Petula tight and the boys ran across the yard and scrambled into the back of the truck. “They must bring the meat here in this truck,” Gerry started to say when, suddenly, there was a juddering and rattling as the doors closed. Gerry, Rocky, and Petula were plunged into darkness.

“I'm not sure this was a good idea,” Rocky said.

“Don't worry,” Gerry whispered. “They'll drive back to wherever they caught the whales, then they'll open the back to load more inside and we'll sort them out.”

Rocky wasn't so confident, but he said nothing. There was a rumble as the engine started.

“Jeepers, we're off!” Gerry exclaimed.

M
olly felt for her coin. It was still safely tucked into her pajama pocket, nestled there like an egg being incubated. She opened her eyes and blinked as a shaft of morning sun cut across her face. Sitting up in bed she took the coin out and stroked it. It made her feel fantastic. All her other hypnotic powers paled in comparison to the buzz the coin gave her.

She couldn't think what had possessed her when she'd called Rocky the other day. Had he arrived in Tokyo? she wondered. She must make sure she played him some music to stop him interfering.

Molly had no need of friends now. What could friendship offer her when she had the coin? All that she wanted was for everyone, from presidents to princesses, from film stars to the ordinary person on the street, to adore her. She wanted to be rich and
powerful. She wanted to be able to go anywhere, have access to the best of everything—from palaces to private islands. There was nothing wrong with this, she thought. After all, she was Molly Moon, the world's best hypnotist, best time stopper, best time traveler, best mind reader, best morpher, and now the best musician.

She knew she would master every instrument she tried. It was so easy! Eye hypnotism required far more effort than musical hypnotism. And time traveling felt irrelevant now; Molly felt no need to travel to another time—there was so much to see and do, and above all have, in this time. Her old talents were too much like hard work.

Hiroyuki and Chokichi were eating their breakfast. As Molly approached, the boys looked up and smiled at her, infatuated, still smitten by her performance the night before. A maid came out of the kitchen and curtsied to Molly, saying something in Japanese.

“She's asking what you'd like for breakfast,” Hiroyuki explained.

Molly took a look at the boys' tofu and cold fish. She didn't fancy that. Before she had owned the coin, she would have asked politely for ketchup sandwiches and concentrated orange squash, but to
day, the mere idea of this food made her feel sick.

“Just coffee and toast,” she told the maid.

Hiroyuki translated, adding a please.

“You were brilliant last night. Everyone who saw you was blown away. Oh, and Rocky arrived. He's still asleep upstairs.” Molly nodded. She would have a few hours before he woke up as he would definitely be jet-lagged. Hiroyuki pointed to some Japanese newspapers on the table. Two had Molly's picture at the bottom of the front page.