The cave in the cliffs behind the hut was amazing. Sinclair and Earl led Molly, Petula, and Rocky over a narrow walkway into the spacious, greenly lit cavern. The water inside was ten feet deep and so clear that they could see the sandy bottom.
Stalactites clung to the damp, algaed ceiling. At the far end was a concrete wall, and set in this was the steel door of an elevator. Minutes later, they were all shooting smoothly upward inside the cliff. At the top, a cream, suede-covered wall and a highly polished glass door greeted them. Sinclair pressed a button on the wall. The door slid open, and they found themselves standing outside the concrete bunker that housed the elevator. It was disguised to look like a large rock.
“Hawaii’s over there,” Sinclair pointed out. “Perhaps when all this is over, we can make sure Primo lends you his private jet.”
“Have we learned how to fly planes?” asked Molly, wrinkling her nose as she tried to remember the lessons.
“No,” laughed Sinclair. “It comes with a pilot.”
Sinclair’s Aston Martin was parked beside the concrete bunker. Petula barked at him to open the door. It was windy on the cliff top, and the breeze was getting under her fur. They all climbed in. Sinclair revved the engine until it sounded like a lion purring. Soon they were driving up a winding, walled track to the cliff’s summit. Before them was a highway.
“This is the Pacific Coast Highway,” said Sinclair. “It goes all the way up the west coast of America. That way”—he pointed to his left—“is north—San Francisco, then Portland, Seattle, until you get to Canada. And this way”—he gestured to his right—“is south—Malibu, then Los Angeles, and eventually Mexico.”
“Wow,” said Rocky. “Where are we now?”
“This is a place called Dune Beach. It’s a two-hour drive to get back to Hollywood, so let’s hit the road.”
The Aston Martin swooped out onto the highway.
“If we’re passing Malibu, can we drop in and see everyone?” asked Molly. Sinclair shook his head and put the gear shift into Power Drive.
“Sorry. Not just yet, Molly. At the moment they think you’re working for the Benefactor. I had to hypnotize them all not to worry about you being gone. I hope you don’t mind. But they’re all really fine—and if you reunite today, there’s a danger that Primo would find out that you’re still alive, and we don’t want that.”
Molly held Petula on her lap and settled back into the blue leather upholstery. She shut her eyes. She felt quite strange. As if she’d traveled up a time shaft, up a cylinder of time in which she’d viewed the summer and autumn months but hadn’t properly experienced them. So this was what it felt like to be hypnotized over a long period. Molly felt guilty about people whose minds she’d meddled with—although she didn’t feel bad about hypnotizing Nockman to be better. He was enjoying life more, wasn’t he? And soon her hypnotism of him would wear off completely, and he would have metamorphized into a good person.
“What have Nockman and Mrs. Trinklebury been doing? Anything exciting?” she asked.
“Yes, they have,” Sinclair replied, smiling as he pressed the stereo controls. “If you want some in-car entertainment, look at the screen.” A small screen on the ceiling in front of them flickered, and to Rocky and Molly’s amazement, a home video began.
It showed all the children from the orphanage having some sort of party with Mr. Nockman and Mrs. Trinklebury. The microphone picked up the end of a speech that Nockman was making.
“Now at last,” he said, “I know how vunderful ze verld is.”
Everyone clapped.
“Whose birthday?” asked Molly. “Nockman’s?”
“No, it’s a party to celebrate Mr. Nockman and Mrs. Trinklebury’s engagement. It was in July.”
“Their what?” Molly and Rocky stared in shock.
“Are you sure?” said Molly. “Are they, you know, in love?”
“Yup, like two turtledoves.”
“Yuck,” said Rocky.
“Well, they’re very happy,” said Sinclair. Molly looked at Rocky. “As long as he doesn’t lead her into a life of crime.”
“No way,” said Sinclair. “From what I see, the guy’s nuts about her and will do whatever needs to be done to please her.”
“Well, I’m happy if Mrs. T. is,” said Molly. “What about the others?”
Sinclair fast-forwarded the tape. In a sitting room, Gemma and Gerry put on a show for the other orphanage children. Gemma invited Hazel to come forward and said that she was going to hypnotize her. Molly and Rocky couldn’t believe it. Gemma and Gerry then hypnotized Hazel and convinced her that she was on the top of a very high wall, and that every time Gemma blew, the wall swayed. Hazel lay flat in the middle of the stage, trying not to be blown off.
“But who taught them?” asked Rocky.
“You did,” said Sinclair. “Well, indirectly.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” said Sinclair. “It seems you photocopied the original hypnotism book and they found a part of the copy. They’re quite good at looking like they’re real hypnotists.”
“But they are real, aren’t they? Their show looks brilliant!”
“Well, don’t be too deceived. Hazel’s acting. Gemma and Gerry have no hypnotic skills at all. I’ve checked. Mind you, they are very good animal trainers. Look at this.”
A table stood at the front of the same room with a miniature gymnasium on it. It had little slides and swings, seesaws, and merry-go-rounds. Molly and Rocky watched in wonder as Gerry got his mice to go down a slide, to ride on the swings, to seesaw, and to whizz around and around. They even stood on top of each other in little mouse triangles.
“Gerry sure can handle those mice,” said Sinclair, as the tape came to an end. Petula glanced at the screen and blinked.
For a while they drove in silence. Sinclair concentrated on the road, but he seemed agitated, speeding up and then slowing down again and tapping the steering wheel. It seemed as if he was trying to make up his mind about something. Molly thought how difficult it must be for him to be betraying his own father.
Then, as if the same subject was troubling Sinclair, he said, “You know, Primo Cell isn’t my real dad. He adopted me. And my sister, Sally, too.” He opened a cabinet below the glove compartment. Inside was a tiny refrigerator. He reached for some drinks.
“Adopted?” Molly and Rocky said in surprised unison.
“You got it,” said Sinclair, handing Rocky a bottle of water. “Sally and I aren’t real brother and sister.”
Molly and Rocky were fascinated. Being orphans themselves, the subject of adoption was very close to their hearts. What was more, neither had ever before met a person outside the orphanage who’d been adopted, so both listened intently to Sinclair as he told them his life story.
It turned out that he and Sally had first been adopted at the ages of four and five by a ringmaster and his wife, who had owned a circus. It was, Sinclair said, as if a huge family had taken them in. He and Sally had been extremely happy. The ringmaster was also a performing hypnotist. Unfortunately, he was such a good one that when he came to Primo Cell’s attention, Cell thought he was a threat and so got rid of him. He hypnotized the circus couple. They were now gardeners at Magpie Manor.
The young Sinclair and Sally came to live with Cell. He seduced them with a new glamorous lifestyle, giving them everything they wanted—miniature cars to drive, fantastic bedrooms, a home with a movie theater and a pool, a country house with horses to ride and vacations by the sea where there were always big boats, Jet Skis, and all the toys they wanted. He got them a home tutor. One day, he said, they’d run his empire. When they were ten and eleven, he began to train them as hypnotists.
“But,” said Sinclair, his voice bitter, “from the day he took away my circus parents’ freedom, I hated him. I saw he had no heart. I vowed that I would do everything I could to stop him ever needing to hypnotize me. I played my part. I pretended I loved him like a son loves a father. But underneath, I didn’t. I hated him. Sally made mistakes. She disagreed with him once too often. Primo hypnotized her. But he’s never hypnotized me. He likes to think that there’s at least one person out there who likes him not just because they’ve been hypnotized to. But, as I told you, I don’t like him at all. I loathe him.”
Molly looked out at the sea and the millions of tiny ripples on the water. She didn’t know how to react to Sinclair’s life history. At this moment, she just felt bowled over by all the day’s surprises. Molly knew she had other questions to ask Sinclair, but she couldn’t remember what they were. Instead, overcome by the vibrations of the car and the hum of the engine, she fell asleep. And Petula snuggled up to her, very relieved that the real Molly was back at last.