Chapter 1

Horatio Entwhistle was five years old when he blew up his bedroom for the first time.  When he was nine years old he blew up his bedroom for the second time. That was when his parents decided to build him a shed out the back.  If he was going to continue with his science experiments, and they were sure he was, then it might be better to put him in a shed in the back yard.  After all, the whole house could be demolished next time. Sometimes, Horatio thought, his parents didn't really think things through.

On this particular sunny Queensland day Horatio was so busy thinking about his latest experiment he didn’t notice what he was eating for breakfast – that was perhaps a good thing. His mother said that life was an experiment and she carried this philosophy to the kitchen.  The scrambled eggs with nutmeg, oats and a dash of orange juice (in place of milk) she’d served for breakfast tasted decidedly strange. Or would have if Horatio was paying attention, but all he could think of was his experiment.  How was he going to perfect his Stupendous Glue so that it wouldn’t take the skin off his fingers every time he touched it?

His mother put a plate of toast on the table. The bread was black around the edges and white in the middle.  “What are you going to do today?” she asked.

“I really want to try to get my glue right.  If I could work out this problem…”

“Well you’ve got all of the school holidays to do it.”

“Yeah,” Horatio grinned, “Isn’t it great?”

His mother nodded. Horatio thought she was the best mother in the world, despite her cooking. She was a scientist and Horatio’s father was apt to say that she sometimes mixed her genetic experiments with the family dinner.

“Can I help you, son?”

Horatio looked at his dad.  Dr Entwhistle’s mass of curly hair was standing on end as usual – as if he had just placed his finger in a light socket. He looked like a younger version of Albert Einstein.  Right now he was patting his head, trying to make the black curls sit flat.  A few years ago his dad had tried wearing a hat all day, even at meal times, to see if he could flatten his hair but as soon as he took the hat off it sprang straight up again. He guessed his would be the same if he didn’t get it cut close to his head.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Well you know you only have to ask…”

“Yes, thanks dad.”

His mother put the saucepan into the cupboard with a clunk. “Now don’t get so tied up with your experiment that you forget to have lunch will you, dear?” she said.

Horatio nodded.  The chewy breakfast oats were stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Dad and I should be home at about half past four.  You have a good day and take care, won’t you?”

“No shed blowing up,” his father said and laughed at his own joke.

Horatio nodded again.  He tried to smile at his father. It felt like his jaws had been chewing for a week and, even with heaps of water to wash the food down, he was beginning to think he might make the Guinness Book of Records for the longest breakfast of all time.

His mother patted his head as she headed out the door to work but he could tell she wasn’t thinking about him. Her mind was already at her laboratory. Horatio’s parents were working on an important research project for reducing the effects of old age. They were too busy to worry about him most of the time.  This suited Horatio just fine.  It meant he could spend his time in his shed without being nagged about getting some fresh air or playing sport.

When he finally opened the door to his shed it was after nine o’clock. Although he worked there almost every day, he still felt a shiver of pleasure when he opened the door. It was the most exciting place in the world. All four walls were taken up with shelves and cupboards covered with equipment and various experiments in progress.

On one shelf there was a marvellous collection of bottles containing chemicals of all descriptions.  On another he kept his first chemistry set – the one responsible for the first bedroom explosion.  It looked a little blackened and tattered at the moment because parts of it had caught alight when the beaker he put on his bedroom desk burst into flame.

Everything was neatly arranged except for one corner where Horatio kept his ‘treasure chest’. Here was a pile of things he thought might come in handy one day. There were batteries he intended to heat in the oven to see if they had any life left in them; there was an old fax machine he had found next to a neighbour’s garbage bin; and a computer from his school’s jumble sale. One box held a mixture of nails, nuts and bolts, Allen keys, hinges, doorknobs, washers, springs, screws and screwdrivers of various shapes and sizes.

Just inside the door was a small fridge and next to it a kettle for boiling water for hot chocolate, cups of soup and noodles. On the table in the centre of the shed was his current project. He stirred the contents at the centre of the beaker. The edges were firmly stuck to the glass.

He picked up the beaker and stared at the contents. How was he ever going to stop it sticking to everything? Actually that was what he wanted to happen but he didn’t want it to be quite this effective.  The glue worked on everything, including human and animal skin as well as wood, glass, paper and plastic.

He dreamed that one day surgeons, builders, teachers, carpenters and a host of other professions would need only one thing to stick any two surfaces together – a tube of Horatio Entwhistle’s Stupendous Glue. The problem with his glue was that it did stick to everything.  Only last week it had taken him most of a day to prise apart his fingers when they had become stuck together by little more than a drop of glue spilling from the eye dropper he had been using.  Even now the residue was clearly visible.

If only he could find a way to handle the glue with something that wouldn’t stick to it.  He looked at the row of chemicals on his shelves.  There must be something that would dissolve it.  Carefully he touched the end of the stick he had been using to stir the glue.

At that moment there was knock on the shed door and a familiar voice yelled, “Are you in there?  It’s Ming Yi.”

A small dark haired girl poked her head around the door.  She was wearing a judo outfit with a black belt tied around her waist. She took one look at Horatio and started to laugh.

“What’s up with you?”

She pointed towards his hand. “You’ve got a stick…” Her lips twitched. Horatio looked at his hand.  “Damn, damn, damn.  I hardly touched it.”

“You …should see… yourself.” Ming could barely control herself.

“The darn things stuck to me.  I swear my finger just brushed the end.”

“Yeah, well it looks like you’re stuck with it now!”

“Very funny. Stop laughing, Ming, and try to think of something.”

“What do you suggest I do?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

“Grab the end of the stick and see if you can break it off. Don’t touch any glue.”

Ming started to laugh again.  “I can just see what we’d look like,” she gasped. “You with a piece of wood stuck to your hand, me stuck to you.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“Quit mucking about,” Horatio said.  He grinned and held out his hand.

Ming grasped the end of the stick with a pair of pliers and bent it towards her.  There was a sharp crack.

“Oww that hurt.”  Horatio looked at his hand.  The stick had broken in two.  A splinter of wood, a few millimetres long, stuck out of his thumb.

“Well at least I can work now without poking my eye out.”

“But you can’t go around with a stick permanently stuck to your hand!”

“When the glue dries completely I should be able to wiggle the stick with some tweezers until it falls out.”

There was silence for a moment as they both contemplated the beaker of colourless liquid. It looked harmless – but it was deadly.

“What are you doing here?” Ming Yi asked, indicating an unpleasant looking mixture on a plate next to Horatio’s science book.

Horatio didn’t bother to look up.  “That’s yesterday’s lunch.  Mum really scored this time.”

“What is it?”

“Well I think it’s meant to be spaghetti bolognaise.”

“It looks like tomato sauce with some spaghetti thrown in.”

“Probably.  Mum knows that spaghetti sauce is red and I think she figured that the quickest way to get it that way is to add tomato sauce.”

“My dad says that you can hide all sorts of disasters with tomato sauce.”

“He obviously hasn’t tasted Mum’s cooking then!”

Ming Yi licked her finger.  “Yuk!  I see what you mean.”

Horatio laughed.  “Leave that alone and have a look at this.” He indicated a slide covered in a glutinous looking substance.”

Ming peered at the mixture. “It looks ordinary.”

“Don’t I wish? I have to find a safe way to handle it.”

He took a bottle from the shelf and began pouring concentrated eucalyptus oil into a beaker.

Just then there was a loud crack. Ming jumped. “What was that?”

“I think it’s coming from the back of the house.” Horatio peered through the window. Two men were standing on the back deck. They were dressed in smart business suits and looked how he expected tax inspectors might look, although Horatio had never seen one in the flesh.  He opened the door far enough to see out. One of the men had a chunk of wood in his hand. As he watched, the man banged the wood against the door like a battering ram.

“Hey what are you doing?” he yelled. Without thinking, he ran across the lawn towards the men. “Get out of here or I’ll call the police.”

The men turned to stare at them. The shorter man looked at his companion who nodded his head.

“Just go back were you came from, kid,” he said. “You don’t want to get hurt now do you?”  Horatio bristled.  He hated being referred to as “kid”.

The man took a step towards Horatio. “And that goes for you too, girlie.”

Horatio risked a quick glance behind him. Ming had moved so silently that he hadn’t been aware she was there.

“Get out of here,” he said again. He felt Ming moved up beside him. From the corner of his eye, he saw that she was in a judo attack stance. Her hands were spread in front of her and her legs placed to give her balance. She bounced up and down like a prizefighter waiting to throw a punch.

The tall man threw a sharp sideways glance at his companion. There was something familiar about him Horatio decided.  Where had he seen him before?  The man smiled. His teeth disappeared behind thin lips and his eyes were cold.  Horatio felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The shorter man returned the smile. He seemed to think Ming’s actions were funny, although his fists were clenched and his eyes were slits in his round face. Everything about him was ordinary except for the revolting orange tie he wore.

“This is your last warning.” Orange Tie said, “ Go back to your shed like a good boy and pretend we’re not here.”

Horatio had had enough. No way was he going to let them bash the door again, and no way was he going to meekly hide in the shed while these clowns broke into his house.

With a roar he threw himself at Orange Tie. The force of his head ramming into Orange Tie’s stomach made his head spin. He shook his head to try to clear the stars that swam before his eyes. Orange Tie was bent over holding his stomach with one hand while he lifted the block of wood he had been using on the door in the other. He swung it wildly at Horatio who stumbled backwards into Ming.

Ming gave a yell and pushed him out of the way. She began to circle around Orange Tie who glared at her while he tried to swat her with the wood. Suddenly her hand shot out.  The movement was so swift that Orange Tie barely had time to register what was happening before the wood sailed out of his hands and spun through the air.

“You little – ” he screamed. At that very moment, Ming’s foot connected with Orange Tie’s ankle. She pushed and he lost his balance. Almost before he reached the ground, Horatio was on top of him. His heart was racing so fast he felt it might burst out of his chest.

“Will you get out of here now?” he gasped.

I don’t think so, kid,” Orange Tie sneered. He looked over Horatio’s shoulder and smiled.

Horatio followed his gaze.  The tall man was standing less than a car length away. Ming was directly in front of him. The expression on her face filled Horatio with dread. Then he saw the reason for the silence that surrounded the little group. The tall man was holding a small black gun in his hand and it was pointed at Ming’s head.