Four

A few days later

The phone rang, and Captain Haddock answered it. "Hello?" he asked absently. He was searching through the clutter on his desk for the weather printouts. He had only been on board a few days, making sure the ship was set up how he liked it and going back over their charted route, and already his desk was a complete mess. Charts and data printouts fought for space with empty take-away containers.

"Captain Haddock?" a man's voice asked cautiously.

"Yes, speaking." The Captain gave up looking for the printout and settled back into his chair.

"I don't know if you remember me," the man said, "but my name is Detective Thompson – with a 'p', as in psychosomatic. We met in Bagghar?"

The Captain winced at the memory. How could he forget? "Yes," he said. "I remember you. How are you?"

"Fine, sir. Fine. Er, we understand that you are part of a scientific expedition that is setting off in search of a meteor?"

"That's right."

"And that Tintin will be part of this expedition?"

"Yes, that's right," the Captain said. "Is there something I can help you with?" He wadded up a spare piece of paper and batted it from hand to hand.

"Actually, yes there is," Thompson replied. "How well do you say you know Tintin?"

The Captain thought for a second. "I dunno," he said at last. "Not very. A little."

"So you wouldn't be a particularly close friend?"

"No, I don't think so."

"But close enough that he'd suggest you for this expedition?"

"He just asked me would I like the job," the Captain replied.

"So you didn't know that he recommended you? They were originally going to go with a different captain, one who had experience on other expeditions, but he convinced them that you would be ideal for it."

"Oh," said the Captain. "Did he?"

"Yes. Is there any reason why he would do that? Have you ever told him you were part of another scientific expedition?"

"No," the Captain said, insulted at the insinuation. "No I did not. He knows I'm a merchant."

"So you don't know why he'd lie about that?" Thompson asked.

"No, I don't. And does it matter? It's not that different from what I've done."

"No, it doesn't matter in the slightest. I just find it curious that he would go to such lengths to procure a job for someone he's not that close to."

The Captain was silent as he thought about this. "How many other sea captains does he know?" he asked curiously.

Now it was Thompson's turn to be silent. The Captain waited, his paper ball forgotten on the desktop. He could hear muted conversation, as though Thompson was conferring with someone else – probably his colleague Thomson, who was no relation, but the Captain found that hard to believe – and the rustling of paper. After a short moment, Thompson returned to the conversation. "None other, as far as we can tell," he said. "He was under suspicion for being an accomplice to a sea captain who was running guns in the Middle East, but it was later proven that it was just a case of wrong place, wrong time."

"So there you go," the Captain said, amused. "He suggested me because I'm the only captain he knows, and he wanted a friend on the trip. He did say that the other people involved were all boring scientists. What would you rather do? Be stuck at sea for months on end with a mate, playing cards and having a laugh; or with a bunch of old fogies?"

"It's a fair point," Thompson replied. "Tell me, Captain, do you know what Tintin's real name is?"

The Captain stared off into space. It hadn't occurred to him that Tintin wasn't his name. He'd assumed it was a regional Belgian name, either an unusual first name or a surname. Now that he thought about it, sometimes reporters had fake names they used. But that was only when what they did was dangerous. "What is it?" he asked at last.

"No idea," Thompson replied brightly. "He's hidden it well."

"Do you know how old he is?" the Captain asked suddenly. It was a simple thing, but Tintin had been curiously evasive every time the Captain had asked. They'd once had a conversation about age and perceived age restrictions, but the Captain had been a bit drunk at the time (and accidentally high on marijuana) and couldn't really remember it. In fact, it could have been a conversation about combine harvesters for all he knew.

"No, we don't know that either. Er." Thompson paused. "Does he seem a bit… young to you?"

The Captain narrowed his eyes. It was impossible to gauge how old the lad was. "Kind of," he admitted. "Sometimes he looks a bit young…"

"But most of the time he acts like a man?" Thompson finished.

"Aye. He has to be a grown up, though. Right?"

"Right," Thompson agreed.

"I mean, he can't be a kid," the Captain continued. "Can he?"

"No," Thompson said uncertainly. "No. I don't think so."

"Right. Well, anything else I can help you with, detective?"

"No, nothing else," Thompson said pleasantly. "Good luck, Captain, and bon voyage."

"Aye, and good luck to you too, mate." The Captain hung up and drummed his fingers on the desk. He had that dark feeling of foreboding again. For ordinary people, it was just an uneasy feeling, but for sailors it was almost gospel. He'd had it the day he'd met Tintin, and it had remained throughout most of their association, and now it was back again. He shook his head and got up. He needed some whisky to settle his nerves.

x

"…and now he's our European correspondent, Robert, in Brussels. Robert?"

"Thanks Charlotte. I'm down here in the port of Brussels, where the polar research ship Aurora is docked. It is, of course, leaving shortly on what will be a major voyage of discovery in the Arctic ocean. Its objective is the find the meteorite which recently fell into the waters of the Arctic region. Arial photography has shown that part of the meteor is still protruding above the surface of the water. Their goal will be to reach that meteor and take samples of the rock and its core." The man with the perfect hair smiled and showed his perfect white teeth. The camera, unblinking, caught it all and sent it back to the newsroom, where a bored-looking woman attempted to perk up and show a bit of interest. "And this really is a European effort, Robert, isn't it?"

"Yes, Charlotte, it really is. The scientific team is made up of people from all over Europe, and from a few of the top European universities. These will include Professor Phostle, of the Belgium Royal Observatory – who initially sighted and logged the meteor; Eric Björgenskjöld of the Swedish Solar Institute; Porfirio Belero y Calamares of the University of Salamanca; Dr Otto Schulze of the University of Munich; Professor Paul Cantonneau of the University of Paris; and Pedro Joás Dos Santos, head of the department of physics in the University of Coimbra. Even the UK is represented, with the ship being captained by Archibald Haddock, president of the Society of Sober Sailors and a native of Northern England…"

Tintin ducked through the crowds of cameras and news-people. The Aurora was due to sail the following morning and there was a lot of attention focused on their expedition. It was a united Eurozone effort: something the leaders of the EU wanted highlighted in the world's press, especially in the face of economic recession. It also took some of the spotlight away from the question of whether or not the Eurozone would still exist by the time the expedition got back to Europe.

The part of the dock where the Aurora was berthed was cut off from the press and the hangers-on by a small wooden saw-horse with a sign painted on it that read "CAUTION!". For some reason, Captain Haddock had assumed the news teams would see the sign and stand back out of the way. Surprisingly, this had actually worked. The cameras were standing way back, all facing down towards the Aurora and staying far away from the cautious sign. Tintin shook his head, vaulted the saw-horse, and headed down to the Aurora.

It was a fine ship, he had to admit. He knew next to nothing about ships, but the Aorora looked well. She was light and airy and had a few interesting bits and bobs, like a sea-plane. He wondered what were the chances of getting Captain Haddock back up in one. Probably slim, but he had a month and a half to wear the man down.

He half expected to see Haddock now, but the deck of the Aurora was practically deserted. All he could see was one man half-jogging along the deck. The man kept his head down and his cap over his eyes, obscuring his face, and the more Tintin watched, the more the man's movements looked… furtive. Like he was hurrying to get off the ship. When the man started down the gang-plank, Tintin challenged him.

"Hi!" Tintin said brightly as he approached. The man was almost off the gang-plank now. "Can I help you?"

The man looked up, startled, and made a run for it, darting away along the wharf. "Hey!" Tintin called, dropping his suitcase and giving chase. "You! Stop! Stop!" He was catching up, but he was so focused on his quarry that he didn't see a rope trailing from the Aurora, which was wrapped around a bollard along the side of the wharf. His foot caught in it and he tumbled over, hitting the ground hard. He lay for a minute, winded and bruised, and watched as the strange man ducked into the crowds and vanished from sight.

"Stupid rope," Tintin muttered as he got to his feet and catalogued his bruises. "He's vanished now. What the hell was he doing on the ship though?" At his feet, Snowy stuck his nose to the ground and started to snuffle.

Tintin collected his suitcase and hurried back to the ship and up the gang-plank. Now, a tall, solemn-looking man with a weathered face stood at the top of it. He eyed Tintin suspiciously, a pipe clenched in his teeth. "Are you on watch?" Tintin asked as he stepped off the gang-plank and on to the deck.

"Yes," the man replied with a grunt.

"Did you see anyone strange on board? A few minutes ago?"

"No."

"Nobody on the deck, prowling around?"

"No."

"Nobody leaving the ship?"

"No."

"Oh." Tintin shook his head slightly. "Good. Well, er… Is Captain Haddock already on board?"

"Yes."

"Is he… Is he in his cabin?"

"Yes."

"Great, thanks." Tintin rolled his eyes as he walked away from the watchman. "Yes. No. Not very communicative." Tintin glanced over his shoulder, but the watchman had gone back to watching the gang-plank. He was standing completely still, the only sign of life the wafting grey smoke of his pipe. He was like a statue. I'm missing something, Tintin thought suddenly. He stopped and looked around a bit more, before realising what was gone. "Snowy?" he called. He pursed his lips and whistled. "Snowy!" Oh well, it's not like he can go anywhere. Tintin shrugged and headed to the Captain's cabin: Snowy would find him soon enough.

x

Snowy had a Smell. It was an interesting Smell too. It belonged to a man. Snowy didn't know who the man was, but the man and Tintin had been running, and Tintin didn't sound happy when he chased the man. Therefore, the man must have done a thing that had made Tintin not-happy, and would need to be investigated thoroughly. It was only common sense.

Snowy fallowed the Smell up the wooden thing and onto the cold metal thing. There was a man with a different smell here, but Snowy ignored him and followed the Smell. Nose pressed to the deck, he snuffled along, almost walking into pips and crates that were stacked neatly around the ship as they waited to be put into storage. The Smell led him down to the back of the ship, and around a corner.

A strange fizzling noise made him look up. There was a long tube thing lying on the deck. A small, sparkling flame was creeping closer and closer to it. Snowy looked at the thing. The strange man's Smell led here, to this object. Snowy quickly marked it as his own and headed off to find Tintin.

He might even get chicken for finding this.

x

Tintin knocked at the door to the Captain's cabin and waited until he was invited in. The Captain was just closing a cupboard as Tintin entered. "Hello, Captain!" he said with a grin. "Hey, listen: I just saw a man bolting off the ship. I tried to challenge him, but he ran off."

The Captain looked puzzled. "Was he doing anything? Did he have anything with him? There's a lot of expensive equipment stored on this ship."

Tintin shook his head. "No, he had nothing with him. He just looked like he'd been caught doing something, you know? Guilty." He cocked his head and listened: he could hear Snowy barking. A moment later the dog appeared, and tugged at the leg of his jeans. "Hey!" Tintin said, pulling his leg away. "What did I do to you?" But Snowy wasn't playing this time: he looked serious.

"I think he wants you to follow him," the Captain said.

Snowy led them along the deck, back to where he had found the strange thing. "Dynamite!" the Captain exclaimed, stopping short when he saw it. "That's dynamite! But who put it out? Look, there's water all over it."

Snowy stood over it, wagging his tail proudly. Tintin burst out laughing. "Good old Snowy! He must have… Well, he did his best!" He bent down and patted Snowy on the head. "Good boy. Still," he added, turning back to the Captain, "someone wanted to blow up the ship, or at least damage it."

"Yeah, well if I ever lay my hands on that pyromaniac, he'll see a good display of fireworks," the Captain said darkly. He took a pipe out of his pocket and clamped it in his mouth. Tintin stared at it for a few seconds.

"Is that…" he started. "Is that a pipe?"

"Yeah." The Captain lit the pipe and looked at Tintin. "What's wrong? Why are you staring at me like that? Haven't you ever seen a man smoke a pipe before?"

"Never a man under the age of seventy."

"Cheeky sod."

"Right. Anyway, I suggest we keep our eyes open," Tintin continued. "We must be on our guards until the ship sails tomorrow."

"Aye. Thundering typhoons, I knew something like this would happen. How the hell did I let you talk me into this?" The Captain shook his head in despair and headed back to his cabin. "You're bunking for'ard," he called over his shoulder, jerking his thumb in the direction of Tintin's cabin. "You can't miss it. Get settled in and catch up wi' me later."