Molly sat in a comfortable armchair in her suite in the smartest hotel in Paris. She had her feet up and was reading a magazine called Celebrity Society Whirl. Faces of people at parties smiled out from the glossy pages. Molly gloated at the thought that soon every single one of them would be desperate to know her.
She slid and tumbled her gold coin along her fingers, thinking how well she’d perfected this movement. The coin seemed almost alive as it snaked its way between her knuckles. She sighed and looked out of the window.
Her suite overlooked the River Seine. Boats moved slowly up and down the water. She could see the famous cathedral of Notre Dame. She already loved Paris, with its beautiful buildings and promenades. She would certainly get herself an apartment here. She wanted one in New York, too. She would be there in a few days.
“I can get a secret apartment in Manhattan,” she whispered to the coin. “Or one in the Statue of Liberty’s head! Will that be good enough for you?” She laughed. “You and me are a perfect pair. The best team ever! Oooh, it’s SO EXCITING!”
Overwhelmed, Molly jumped up. With the coin between her finger and thumb, she whizzed around and around the room like a whirling dervish. “I’m going to have everything I want! My own palaces, my own apartments, yachts, chalets, villas. I’ll own islands and mountains and valleys! It’s all going to be mine—MINE! And nothing—NOTHING—is going to stop me!”
Molly felt a bit dizzy. She sat down and held the gold coin to her chest. For a minute or two she sat there, panting and clutching it. Then she looked about her suspiciously.
She knew the coin had given her her power. There was no way she would have so many people under her influence without it.
Suddenly, as though a veil had been lifted from her eyes, Molly saw its worth. The coin was valuable beyond any price. Nothing in the whole world was as powerful. Molly saw that she owned something people would kill for. Kill her for.
Then again, she thought, how would anyone know she had it? They’d have to know how it worked. And who knew that? Miss Hunroe, the woman who’d owned it before, was no longer around. The Japanese grandmother was so senile Molly doubted she had worked it out. There was Mr. Proila, of course. She’d been foolish enough to let him see the coin, but she doubted he guessed its power. Who else might have seen it without her knowing? There was a small chance that somebody somewhere out there knew about it. Perhaps Molly’s sudden rise to international musical stardom was the sign they’d been waiting for. Perhaps they were coming to get her. Maybe the shadowy figure on the balcony in Tokyo had been after her coin!
Molly ran to the door and put a chair across it. She rushed to the hotel window and slammed it shut. But even as she did these things it occurred to her again that a time traveler could easily just pop up right beside her! She put her coin in her pant pocket, then in her jacket pocket, then she hid it in her sock. Trying not to panic, she thought back, flicking through memories to see whether anyone had ever actually attempted to take her coin.
Petula, that smelly beast, had tried. The only human who came to mind was the Japanese grandmother. Molly remembered how she had found the old woman in her bedroom trying to steal it. How had she known about it? Were her senses simply more finely tuned than other people’s?
Molly cast her mind back. The grandmother hadn’t been able to actually take the coin. It had given her some sort of electric shock. It was as if the coin was loyal to Molly.
Then another thought struck her. Miss Hunroe’s musical gift had not been remotely as powerful as Molly’s. She had had her gaggle of obedient followers, but they were not completely devoted in the way that Molly’s were. They weren’t as bewitched.
It seemed that just as Molly had special talents with hypnosis, time stopping, time traveling, mind reading, and morphing, she was also extra gifted with the coin.
She took it from her sock and spoke to it. “Yes, I expect you’re really glad I’m your mistress now, aren’t you? You’ve been frustrated. You’ve wanted to channel your music, but the idiots you’ve been with haven’t been able to make it happen. Luckily, I’m a genius.”
Molly felt much better. She decided that from now on she would be very careful not to flash the coin about. She’d keep her rooms locked and she’d keep bodyguards beside her if ever she went out. A time traveler arriving to snatch the coin was perhaps the worst problem she faced, but she reckoned the coin would repel them, too.
Did the coin repel everyone? Molly simply had to know. She called room service.
“Send someone to collect my lunch tray,” she demanded rudely. Putting the phone down, she placed the gold coin on the tray that was to be collected.
Ten minutes later a waiter arrived.
Molly pointed at the tray. “There,” she said.
The waiter came in to pick the tray up and spotted the coin. Naturally he reached down to pick it up.
“I sink zis is yo—AAAAAAAAAAAARRRGHH!”
Molly was pleased.
“Is zis some sort of joke-shop trick?” the man asked.
Molly shook her head. “No,” she said. She had enjoyed seeing the waiter’s pain. “Don’t be silly. Pick it up and give it to me.”
The odd thing was that this time when the waiter touched the coin, nothing happened. Before Molly knew it, her precious coin was in his hands and, what was more, a sly look of interest had crossed his face.
“Give it to me, please,” Molly said.
Reluctantly the waiter passed her the coin.
“Thank you.” Molly tried not to snatch the coin back.
The waiter’s eyes lingered on the coin. Molly slipped it into her pocket. That had been a mistake, she realized. It had taught her that if given permission by her, someone could take the coin. She vowed never to invite anyone to take it ever again.
She would hypnotize the waiter to wipe all memories of the coin from his brain.
“I think I’ve got something in my eye. Could you take a look?”
The man frowned, then nodded. He peered into Molly’s eyes. “Which one?”
Molly switched her eyes on.
“Which one?” the waiter asked again.
Molly stared at him. Oddly, nothing happened.
“Er, the right one,” Molly replied. As he studied her eye, Molly focused her mind as she had done countless times before, and really concentrating, she summoned up all the hypnotic strength she could muster to send a pupil-locking stare into the waiter’s eyes. This time it was Molly’s turn to be shocked. Absolutely nothing happened. Molly was stunned.
“Hmm, actually it seems to have gone,” she said. Thinking quickly, she added, “By the way, would you like me to play you something?”
The man looked delighted. “Wow! Wow, yes, zat would be amazing, Miss Moon!”
Molly fetched her guitar. If her traditional mode of hypnotism didn’t work, she’d have to use her musical hypnotism. She would mesmerize the waiter so completely that his desire for the coin would be overshadowed.
As she played, and watched the man’s love-struck face, she was infuriated by how inconvenient it was that her hypnotism hadn’t worked. She recalled the last time she’d used her eyes. It had been on Mr. Proila. They had struggled to work then, too, only strong enough to charm him. It was as if they had gradually been switching themselves off. Perhaps she was working too hard. Perhaps tiredness was to blame.
“My music will be all you remember about me,” she said. “You can go now.”
When the waiter had left, Molly picked up her phone. “I’m ready to go to Madrid now, Miss Sny. Arrange it.”
Gerry craned his neck to watch a plane flying over their small hovel. Seven nights had passed since they’d been caught, and with every day they had become more miserable.
“Look where we are, Petula! All shut up and forgotten about. It’s like we’re going to live in this ’orrible room for years and years and maybe we’ll get out of here when Rocky an’ me are wrinkly old men. You’ll be dead, ’cos dogs don’t live as long as people. An’ where will we bury you? Maybe we’ll die ’ere, too.” Gerry shivered. “Wish they’d bring us another blanket.” He paused. “I wonder where Molly is.”
Just as he said this, Gerry noticed a small mouse pop its head out of a tiny hole in the corner of the room.
“Pssst. Look, Rocky!” he whispered.
They all sat very still and watched as the mouse disappeared again.
Rocky took the spoon that he had eaten his lunch with and knelt down. Nervously he began to scrape at the bottom of the wall.
To his delight, it crumbled. Gerry grabbed his spoon and the two of them set about frantically scraping and digging.
For the rest of the day the boys worked. By late that night they had made a hole big enough to squeeze through.
Petula followed them. They were all out.
To their left was the sea, to the right a road, and there, a little way along it, beside a bus stop, was a phone box. Luckily Gerry remembered Toka’s phone number from when the Japanese boy had given it to him in Quito and Rocky had a few yen in his pocket.
“Toka, it’s Gerry,” he blurted out.
“Gerry? Gerry, where are you? Are you OK?” came Toka’s voice over the phone. “I’m coming to get you.” Beep beep beep went the telephone line, signaling that the money was about to run out. “Where are you?”
“Umm, I don’t know, in a phone box.”
“Good, don’t worry. I track number. I come to get you. Wait there. Don’t worr—” The line went dead.
Gerry, Rocky, and Petula hid behind some rocks where they could see the road but not be seen, and they waited. Every minute felt like ten for they were convinced that their escape would be discovered.
In the early hours of the morning a van drove quietly into the fishing village. It had a picture of a sumo wrestler with some Japanese writing on its side. Toka jumped out of it and Gerry, Rocky, and Petula rushed out to greet him. He helped them into the van. The old grandmother sat in the backseat. She hugged the boys and her eyes were brimming with tears. The driver, her old friend who was the master of the sumo academy, was at the wheel. He turned around and winked at Petula, then put his foot on the accelerator.
“Thank you. Thank you,” Gerry and Rocky said repeatedly. They’d never been so grateful in their lives.