Three

Hope is the greatest madness

- Alfred de Vigny

The next morning dawned bright and clear. The Indian summer continued its mild streak, and with it came something unusual: the Captain was up first. He was by no means a late riser - far from it - but even so he was usually piped to the post by Cuthbert, who always seemed to be awake and working by about 6am, followed by Tintin who was awake and staggering to let Snowy out by about 8. And yet here it was, after 9 and the Captain had already eaten the biggest croissant and was halfway through his first cup of tea before Tintin appeared. There was still no sign of Cuthbert though.

'Hello there!' the Captain called as Tintin made his way over. 'How'd you sleep? No more crazy dreams, I hope.'

'Good morning, Captain,' Tintin replied as he sat down. Nosy Snowy braced himself against Tintin's leg and stood up on his hind legs, nose stuck up into the air and one beady eye firmly on the plates that lay on the table. 'No more dreams, no,' Tintin continued as he gently pushed at Snowy until the dog got down and stopped being such an obvious greedy guts. 'No dreams, but not much sleep either. Every time I close my eyes I see Chang lying there, half dead and begging for help.'

'Rubbish!' the Captain declared. 'Dreams go by the opposite, isn't that what they say? Don't even think about it. Put it out of your head. And look, a letter came for you, all the way from Tokyo. Feels more like a card though.' He jabbed his finger at the airmail envelope he had left propped against a spare coffee cup.

'Tokyo?' The haunted look disappeared from Tintin's face, replaced by a frown. 'Who do we know in Japan?' It was a genuine question. He'd done a huge publicity tour, about a year ago, and it had been his biggest one so far. He'd visited so many countries that the Captain had to remind him every second day which city they were in.

'I've no idea,' the Captain replied as he finished off his tea and set about serving coffee, 'but it's come a long way to reach you. From Japan to Labrador Road, to Marlinspike, to here. Nestor must have sent it on.'

'Who's writing to me from Tokyo?' Still baffled, Tintin studied the envelope and its various addresses, but the only thing it told him was that the post office had noted his change of address and were forwarding his mail to Marlinspike Hall. He tore it open carefully and a postcard and two folded pages of A4 paper fell out. On the postcard, an attractive Asian woman reclined on a beach somewhere hot. WISH YOU WERE HER, it proclaimed. Tintin gave a small laugh, still confused, and turned it over to read the note on the back:

I wholeheartedly agree with those sentiments. Your good friend,

"CHANG!"

The Captain almost dropped the coffee pot. Sadly, he did drop the cup and the boiling liquid it contained. Most of it landed on the table but a small part of it landed straight on his leg and hurt like hell. 'Don't you dare!' he snapped as he hurriedly swatted the stain with a napkin. 'There's no way you can pass that off as a nightmare! You did that on purpose!'

'No, no, it's from Chang!' Tintin's eyes were glued to the letter. Chang had begun it by explaining that he'd bought the postcard, intent on sending it to Tintin during the short holiday he'd spent in Tokyo, where his brother Didi now lived, but realised he had too much to say in such a small space. However, he liked the card so much he decided to send it anyway, with a letter explaining his big news, which was -

'He's in Tokyo visiting his brother. They're flying out - well, they must have flown out already, by now - to Calcutta where Didi is doing some voluntary work. And then Chang has a stop-over in Kathmandu of all places, to visit some family or something, but then, Captain, and this is the important bit, then he's flying into Brussels to look at some universities! Universities, Captain!' Tintin's smile became enormous. 'Not only will he be here for the next month, he might be coming back next year to study!'

'Oh. Well, that's good.' The Captain had never met Chang but he was vaguely aware of the boy's existence. 'He's, er, nothing like Abdullah, is he?'

'Chang? Nooo! Not at all. He's very funny, but he's very quiet too. He's honestly one of the nicest people I know. He has a heart of gold.'

'Humph.'

'You'll see,' Tintin promised. Still on cloud nine he turned his attention to Snowy. He patted his leg and Snowy put his front paws back up, wagging his tail at Tintin's obvious happiness before turning his eyes firmly back to the waiting food. Tintin grabbed his paws gently and stood up, turning Snowy as though they were dancing, until the dog couldn't see the food and had to focus on his master. 'And Chang's a friend of yours too, isn't he? Where's Chang? Where's Chang?' Snowy cocked his head from side to side, recognising the name at once. He started to bark in a high-pitched tone of excitement.

Tintin straightened up as Snowy ran off to try and find Chang. 'Professor Calculus!' he cried, spying the familiar figure making his way towards their table. He seized Cuthbert by the shoulders. 'Wonderful news! Chang is coming!'

'Champagne?' the Professor asked. 'At this hour of the morning?'

In answer, Tintin started to tango dance back to the table, bringing the Professor aong for the ride.

'I take it you're happy?' the Captain asked, amused. Snowy came trotting back, just as confused as poor Cuthbert seemed to be.

'I blame you,' Cuthbert said to the Captain, a trifle harshly the Captain thought, as he and Tintin sashayed past. 'It is most reprehensible, Captain, to give this impressionable young man champagne in the morning.'

Tintin gave up with a shake of his head and, still grinning, went back to his letter, rereading the most important parts. Chang in Belgium! Chang looking at universities in Brussels and other parts of Belgium! Ok, and France, Germany, the UK and Holland, too, but still! The Brussels school of Art and Design was on the list! The possibilities swam in Tintin's head. They probably wouldn't be living in the same country but Chang being a couple of hours away by train was much better than Chang being a couple of days away by plane.

'So when's he coming then?' the Captain asked, cutting into Tintin's silent jubilation. 'This… son of heaven of yours?'

'Let me see… Ok, Tokyo to Calcutta, to Patna, to Kathmandu. Blah, blah, blah…. Ah! Here it is! "I fly out to Calcutta with Didi, then on to Nepal. My father wants me to visit his cousin in Kathmandu. They grew up together - you should hear some of the stories about them! Remind me to fill you in. Anyway, this cousin has about a million kids (well, only ten, but still, that's a lot!) and I'm bringing over half a toy store to them as presents."' Tintin thought for a second. Something had jogged his memory. 'Nepal?' he said. 'Kathmandu?' His eyes widened. 'Captain, the plane that hit the mountain… that wasn't going to Kathmandu, was it?'

'Naaaah!' The Captain sound positive, even though a small, worried crease appeared at the bridge of his nose. He opened the morning's paper with a sharp crack and started skimming it as Tintin hovered anxiously at his shoulder, fidgeting impatiently.

'There!' Tintin lunged, tearing the newspaper as he tried to devour the details of the crash. '"Nepal Air Disaster,'" he read. '"No survivors."' He started at the top and began to read. The Captain, his eyes on a different level, was drawn to a passage further down the page.

Tragic Delay.

Among the bodies missing from the crash site is that of a young Chinese student, Chang Chong-Chen, who was travelling from his home in Singapore to Belgium, with a short stop-over in Kathmandu to visit family. He had arrived in Patna early on Saturday, but was ten minutes late for his flight. Facing an over-night stay, he managed to obtain a last minute place on the ill-fated DC3 -

Tintin caught up. He finished reading the passage before sitting - almost collapsing - into the vacant seat beside the Captain. He shook his head slowly. 'That can't be Chang. That can't be true. Captain?' He turned his wide eyes on the Captain, who scooted his chair over so he could comfortably rest his hand on Tintin's back without straining.

'I think,' he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, 'that maybe you should calm down a bit - you've had a bit of a shock - and then we'll go and ring his father and confirm' -

'Confirm?' Tintin rested his face on his arms and burst into tears. The Captain tried not to look too uncomfortable.

'Now!' Cuthbert crowed. 'That's what you get when you get him drunk on champagne!'

'Will you stop going on about champagne!' the Captain snapped, his hand still rubbing small, comforting circles on Tintin's back. He was glad of the distraction: he'd never really seen Tintin cry before. He felt useless knowing there was little he could do to ease the pain his young friend was facing the days ahead, a pain that would stretch into weeks and months and rear its ugly head at times like birthdays and Christmas. The Captain knew that from experience. He had been quite young when his father had died, and a little older when his mother had passed, but he still remembered both at the oddest times. He'd almost phoned his father a few times, to share good news or a joke, before remembering that the old man was long gone. When that happened, the memories left behind had been almost as bad as ghosts, and made him miss their loss almost as keenly.

There was no doubt in the Captain's mind that it had been the same Chang on the plane - Mr Wang, Tintin's friend and Chang's adopted father - was mentioned by name and at the bottom the journalist had mentioned that Tintin himself had yet to be reached for comment. God bless you, Nestor, for keeping the paps and the journalists away, the Captain thought, but damn you for not warning us about it! I know I said "No calls" but this is ridiculous! Beside him, Tintin's tears had stopped as suddenly as they had started.

'It isn't true,' Tintin said, his voice losing its shake as he continued, more confidently; 'I know for a fact it's not true. Chang isn't dead.'

'Err.' The Captain gestured to the newspaper. 'I mean, there's always room for a little hope, but I'm pretty sure' -

'He cant be dead: I'm sure of it,' Tintin interrupted. 'Think about it logically.'

'Logically?' the Captain said pointedly.

Tintin ignored him. 'The plane went down late Saturday-early Sunday, our time. But I saw Chang on Wednesday, yesterday. Badly hurt, yes, but still alive.'

'Ok,' the Captain said after a short pause to compose his thoughts, 'but you know that was a dream, right?'

'It could have been, I don't know, long range telepathy or some sort of E.S.P.,' Tintin replied dismissively. 'There's quite a lot of evidence for it these days. One thing is for sure: it show's that Chang is still alive.'

'And this is thinking logically, is it? Right, let's calm down for a bit, shall we? I know death is tough to accept' -

'He's alive, Captain.' Tintin stood up abruptly. 'He's alive and I intend to find him. I'm leaving for Nepal.'

'What! Hang on a minute!'

'That's right, you go and sober up,' Cuthbert said.

'No! Come back here! Tintin!' The Captain had to jog to catch up with his friend. 'Look here, I understand that you're grieving, and I know that dream, or nightmare or whatever, shook you, but you have to listen to reason!'

'No, I have to save Chang,' Tintin replied reasonably.

'Ten thousand thundering typhoons! How can you save someone who's already dead?'

'Chang isn't dead.'

'Good Lord, Tintin, you said it yourself: they wouldn't stand a chance of surviving up there' -

'CHANG!'

The both jumped at the shout. For a second, the Captain found himself looking up in case it was God speaking to them, but it wasn't. It was a bleached-blonde older woman with a pinched face. Her bored-looking husband was polishing off his own breakfast while at their feet a snub-nosed dog snuffled at Snowy curiously.

'Chang!' the woman continued, addressing the dog as she stared at Tintin and the Captain haughtily. 'What have I told you about speaking to common mongrels? Come to mummy, darling.' Her voice changed to a sugary, sweet tone, and the Captain found himself irrationally and violently hating her and those of her ilk.

'Bloody stupid name for a dog,' he snapped.

'Not really,' Tintin said with a shrug. 'It's a Pekinese so it's probably quite a common name.' He kept going, slightly ahead of the Captain. Snowy trailed behind, throwing looks back at the sad-faced Pekinese.

'Tintin, listen to me,' the Captain pleaded. 'If your friend was still alive, the rescue party would have found him, yes?'

'Maybe.'

'"Maybe?"' The Captain was flabbergasted. '"Maybe?" How do you explain it, then? If he's alive, why didn't he' -

'CHANG!'

It sounded more like a choke than a cry this time, but they still both jumped. Tintin laughed shakily as a door opened and a droopy-looking maid appeared, a wad of tissues clamped to her nose. 'Sorry,' she said half-heartedly.

'Did you really have to sneeze like that!'

'I ab sorry,' she replied indignantly. 'I'b got a terrible cold id by dose.' Her face contorted as she sneezed again. 'Chang!' The Captain hurried after Tintin with a shake of his head. The teen had already entered their suite and had gone directly to his bedroom. The Captain found him there, hastily slinging clothes into his suitcase.

'Even if he is alive you won't be able to find him,' the Captain warned, starting the conversation back up again. 'You read the paper: a team of experienced mountaineers and sherpas couldn't find him. What chance do you have?'

Tintin continued stuffing things into his suitcase. 'As long as he's alive, I have to try. It might sound stupid to you, but there it is.'

'Just listen to yourself!' the captain cried. He never had a tight handle on his anger, but this was beyond the preservation of any man! 'Do you understand, Tintin? The plane tore open.' The Captain reached over and slammed the suitcase shut, almost catching Tintin's fingers in its grip. 'Chang's body wasn't found at the crash site because he was ripped out of the plane and fell about a million feet. His body could be anywhere. Nobody could survive that.' He paused and took stock of Tintin, who was standing very still. 'I know it's hard to hear,' the Captain continued, his voice softening as he let go of his anger. 'But you have to get a grip.'

'What if it was me?' Tintin demanded, his voice tight. 'What if I went out and never came back? And no trace was found of me? What if days turned into weeks and everyone told you I was dead? Would you accept it? Or would you keep looking?'

'If you were very-definitely dead?' the Captain asked sarcastically. 'Um, gee, let me think.'

'No, if everyone told you I was dead but you knew in your heart I was alive.'

'Pfft. That's… that's… that's entirely different. That's actually happened, for a start. Do I have to remind you of the Bird Brothers?'

'And did you stop looking for me?'

'Well, no, of course not, but I knew you were alive.'

'Exactly!' Tintin pounced on it at once. 'You knew I was still alive, and I know, Captain, I know Chang is still alive. And since I know Chang is still alive, I'm going to look for him.'

'Fine!' The Captain's anger flared again. 'Fine! Be obstinate, you mule! Go to Tibet. Go to Vladivostok! Go to Timbuk-ruddy-tu, for all care! But you're going on your own, and that's a fact!'