r Cogsworth, or rather Great-uncle Faisal, explained in great detail how the switch had come about. His body was failing him and if he was to continue his research, there was to be no other way. Shortly before his real body had drawn its last breath, the scientist and marvel that was Faisal transferred his soul to the rusting construct before them.
Tinks was speechless. It wasn’t sadness or joy, or even the shock of what had become of his old relative: it was pure scientific wonder. His great-uncle Faisal had crossed the line between man and machine and had become something of both. He was a complete anomaly, and even stranger in his uniqueness than the Central Intelligence, though thankfully for Ned and his friends a good deal nicer to talk to.
“And you’ve really found a way to bring down the machine?” managed Ned, who was in as much awe as Tinks but was at least still capable of talking.
Faisal’s brush-like moustache smiled and his eyes glowed a little brighter. “Better than that, young man. I can bring down his entire network – every ticker from fly to hawk, every soldier-class Guardian, the whole blasted lot of them!”
Whiskers, who was still perched on Faisal’s lap, gave out a loud “Scree”.
“Not you, my little friend – you’re different.”
“How is Whiskers different?” asked Ned. “You two know each other, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, I should say so! Your Whiskers here was the prototype for my Debussy Mark Twelve – my absolute finest creation. When I bought this museum, the owner was in a right old state. His faithful guard dog was terribly unwell and about to be put down. I took it upon myself to give its soul another home at the moment of its passing. So you see, it was Whiskers who paved the way for me to live on.”
Lucy slapped her hand on Ned’s shoulder and threw her head back with laughter. “Ned’s mouse is a dog?” she said.
“A St Bernard – absolute whopper of a thing,” laughed back Faisal.
“I knew he was special,” said Tinks, “but a dog?”
“Whiskers?” murmured Ned. “Is it true?”
His wind-up companion bobbed its head up and down proudly and for the first time let its tiny tail wag.
“That is too weird,” said Ned.
“I’ve seen weirder,” grinned Tinks, who was now looking squarely into the bulb-like eyes of his great-uncle.
“Before you were born, Ned,” Faisal went on, “the tales of your parents’ exploits at the Circus of Marvels were a thing of legend amongst the Hidden. I sent Whiskers here as an anonymous gift to your dad in the hopes that he might be useful.”
“He is,” smiled Ned, “sometimes.”
The monocle at Faisal’s eye suddenly turned, focusing now on Ned’s shoulder. Suddenly the old Ticker’s arm flew out to where he’d been looking, its pincer-like fingers snapping angrily shut round something.
“But not useful enough, it seems!”
Very slowly Great-uncle Faisal opened up his palm to gasps as he revealed a twitching, broken ticker fly. “Where might this have come from, I wonder?”
Ned racked his brain – he’d only been at the BBB’s Nest. Surely it couldn’t have come from there?
“You realise this probably means you’ve been tracked here?” said Faisal.
“Master Armstrong, when you came back from your mission with Bene, you were scanned by the Nest’s security detail, weren’t you?” asked a suddenly alert Tinks.
“Scanned? Well, no … Mum and Dad were so angry I just waited outside for them to finish with Bene and—”
BEEEP. “INTRUDER ALERT.”
The room turned red as emergency warning lights flashed in time with the recorded message.
BEEEP. “INTRUDER ALERT.”
BEEEP. “INTRUDER ALERT.”
BEEEP. “INTRUDER ALERT.”