Free The Curiosity Machine by Richard Newsome

zeros just knock into each other. Okay, here it is.’ He pulled out two zip-locked plastic bags from the rear of the safe and laid them on the bed. The smaller of the two contained the coded note from Jeremy Davey that Gerald had deciphered after escaping from the cellars beneath the Billionaire’s Club a few weeks earlier.
    Sam pulled the note from the bag and read the message aloud, ‘I have taken the infernal machine of Drebbel and consigned it to the depths but my conscience is ill at rest. I am fifty miles NE of Culpepper Island. I do not know if I deserve rescue so I rely on the judgmentof the one who finds this message. May your soul be raised on butterfly wings.’ He grunted. ‘Do we even know where Culpepper Island is?’
    Gerald took the note and folded it back into the plastic bag. ‘Don’t know. Don’t care. And as for this—’ Gerald removed the larger sheet of paper and flattened its creases to reveal the plans for an enormously complicated contraption. The words The Curiosity Machine were written in neat capitals at the top. ‘I am reliably informed that Mason Green wants this,’ Gerald said. ‘So that’s a good reason to keep it locked away.’ He went to put the plans back but Sam reached out and stopped him. ‘What do you think this thing does?’ he asked, staring wide-eyed at the maze of cogs and arrows and flywheels drawn on the paper. ‘It looks amazing.’
    Gerald wished he knew. He brushed Sam’s hand from his arm. ‘Don’t you start,’ he said. He returned the two plastic bags to the safe, along with the bundles of cash, closed the door and spun the combination. ‘Come on, I’m starving. I have a strange hunger for bacon.’ He bundled out the door with Sam close behind. They almost upended a maid’s cleaning cart in their haste along the passage towards the dining room.

    â€˜Fancy dress?’ Gerald looked up from his breakfast of waffles, triple bacon and maple syrup. ‘Why does it haveto be fancy dress?’
    Vi Wilkins plucked up a crispy corner of bacon from Gerald’s plate and popped it in her mouth. ‘Because, my dear boy, fancy dress is fun. And while you may have attained the ripe old age of fourteen and now consider public displays of joy infra dig , there are older and wiser heads on board who still love a good knees-up while wearing a cape and thigh boots.’
    â€˜ Infra what?’ Gerald asked.
    â€˜Infra never-you-mind, Gerald Wilkins,’ his mother replied. ‘There’s a choice of costumes in a spare cabin for you and your friends to pick over. Irene will show you. Or is it Ella? Honestly, I can’t tell the difference. I just hope there are two of them and we’re not paying one person double wages. Anyway, it’s your birthday party, Gerald. At least look like you’re having a good time. It’s a super-hero theme so try to do something more imaginative than just wearing your underpants on the outside of your trousers.’
    Gerald’s protest to his mother was drowned out by two blasts from a double-barrelled shotgun. Gerald was eating his late breakfast at a table on the lower rear deck, overlooking the expanse of South Pacific that stretched out behind the ship. Felicity and Sam (under the watchful eye of Mr Fry) were taking it in turns to blast clay targets out of the sky, while Ruby lounged on a sun bed, immersed in her book.
    Vi patted Gerald on the head. ‘It’s your special day,darling boy. Try to make the most of it.’ She set off across the deck and paused next to Sam. Vi took the shotgun from his hands, called ‘ Pull!’ at the top of her lungs, and blasted two clay pigeons from existence. She nodded with satisfaction, handed the gun back to Sam, and continued on her way.
    Ruby peered over the top of her sunglasses. ‘Your mother does love dress-ups,’ she said. ‘Do you remember her