Molly Moon Stops the World (4 page)

“I’m too alert to be hypnotized anyway,” said Molly, following the copper swirl with her finger.

Indeed Molly was. Everything in this room reminded her of the incredible power of hypnotism. Above the mantelpiece, over a cheerful fire, hung a portrait of a bewhiskered Victorian gentleman in a black tailcoat and top hat. From his waistcoat top pocket came a golden chain that was attached to a shiny pocket watch. Molly instantly recognized the old man from his picture in
The Book of Hypnotism.

“Yes, there’s the great Dr. Logan himself,” said Lucy, settling down in a chair. “All over the room are things that belonged to him that have been passed down through the family. The table, and in the cabinet behind you there’s the very pocket watch that he’s holding in that portrait. He used it as a pendulum. He went all over America, and that’s how he made his fortune. I’ve got lots of pictures of him and his traveling hypnotism show. There’s his collection of miniature clocks, too. Have a look.”

Molly went to the cabinet. Sepia-colored photographs of Victorian people stood in silver frames. In one, Dr. Logan was on a stage, posing theatrically beside a peculiar figure. Lying flat and balanced between a couple of chairs, her head on one and her feet on another, lay a woman. Nothing supported her
body. Her long dress had been bunched up, like a tiedup umbrella, so that it didn’t drag on the floor, and she was as stiff as a board. Molly knew it was a hypnotism trick called the human plank.

Molly inspected the golden pocket watch and then looked at the tiny carriage clocks. On the wall beside the cabinet were three more clocks: a round one, a castle-shaped one, a pewter clock. They were all showing the correct time. “I’ve never seen so many clocks in one home,” she said.

“Well you’ve probably never been in the house of a clock collector,” said Lucy. “Clocks remind me that life is short and that I mustn’t waste it.”

As Molly thought about this, she looked out the sitting-room window. It was then that she noticed that Lucy’s garden was the very one where the topiary animals grew. The hare and the dog were very close to the window, making the room darker than it should be.

“Wow! I was looking at your animal bushes yesterday,” Molly exclaimed. “Without realizing that they belonged to you. Are they new? I’ve often looked over the river from the parking lot, and I’ve never seen them before.”

“Yes, they are new. I bought the plants fully grown and clipped them myself.”

“I like the dog with the big eyes,” said Molly.

Lucy laughed. “It’s supposed to be a bush baby. I obviously need to go to topiary classes.” She reached for a cookie. “Help yourself, Molly. I shouldn’t, really. I’ve put on so much weight since the accident. I’ve eaten hundreds of cookies.” She shifted uncomfortably in her skirt and undid its zipper a bit. “The bushes are there for a reason,” she added. “They’re to stop people from looking in.”

Lucy suddenly seemed nervous.

“I can’t be sure who’s watching me at the moment.” She paused. “Molly,” she said, sounding serious, “I’ve got an awful lot to tell you today. But first I want to hear all the things that happened to you after you read the book. It’s very important that I know.”

“Sure,” said Molly, curious about Lucy’s mysterious business but dying to tell her about her amazing experiences. And so she launched into her story.

“I had an incredible time. In fact the
best
time I’ve ever had mixed with the
worst
time …”

Lucy Logan listened intently, but she wasn’t as interested as Molly thought she might be. What Lucy Logan was most intent upon was
whom
Molly had hypnotized and
how.
She questioned Molly about exactly how she had hypnotized an audience at the Briersville talent show so that she’d won, then how she’d hypnotized a flight attendant, and how she’d hypnotized the hotel
staff in New York, and how she’d won over the whole audience of New Yorkers in the show
Stars on Mars.
She wanted exact details about the methods Molly and Rocky had used when they had robbed Shorings Bank after Nockman had blackmailed them. Her questions were so thorough, it was almost as if Lucy was testing Molly.

“So,” she said eventually, “you gave all the money and jewels back to the bank. That was extremely honest of you. Not many people would have done that.”

Molly said nothing. Her fingers automatically reached for the diamond that hung around her neck. She decided not to tell Lucy about that for now. She didn’t want Lucy to disapprove of her.

“Lucy,” she said instead, wiping her lips on her sleeve, “what about you? Now it’s your turn to tell me about your hypnotic adventures.”

Lucy’s blue eyes looked at Molly from behind their white frame of bandages, and she said in a serious voice, “Molly, we haven’t got time for my stories now. The special work that made me hand in my notice to the library is very grave. It’s why I didn’t get in touch. I didn’t want you to get involved, because I didn’t want you put in danger. But the time has come for you to know what’s been going on.” Lucy took a deep breath. “You thought you were coming for an entertaining tea,
but I have invited you here to ask you to do something very, very important. I’m extremely sorry, but I have no other choice. Time is running out.”

Molly gulped. She didn’t like the way the afternoon was turning out.

Lucy stood up. “Please come with me.”

Molly followed Lucy through a passageway hung with half a dozen more clocks. A flight of stone stairs led to a basement. Lucy hobbled slowly down them.

At the bottom was a door with four locks on it, two combination padlocks and two locks with keys. Molly wondered what could need such protection.

“There are secrets in here,” said Lucy, “that have to be kept hidden. Secrets that will interest you. Come in.”

T
he basement room inside wasn’t what Molly expected at all. She associated the librarian with shelves of old books and card-index files, not this high-tech space with its shelves of metal files. On the far wall was a plasma screen. Hidden ceiling lights illuminated the gray carpet and shone on a table in the center of the floor, which bore a white keyboard, a computer mouse, a velvet mouse pad, and two miniature bonsai trees. A glass-sided display case sat under the white screen. It contained six pairs of tiny colored shoes.

“Ah, those are old Chinese lotus shoes,” explained Lucy, seeing Molly looking at them. “Some of them date back to the southern Tang Dynasty of A.D. 920. They were worn by girls who’d had their feet bound so
they could never grow big. Aren’t they lovely?”

“Did you go to China on your … adventures?” asked Molly, unsettled by the strange little shoes.

“No.” Lucy sat on a chrome swivel chair and gestured to Molly to sit on another. She turned on the computer. Quiet whirring noises came from a wall of steel equipment, and the large screen showed a menu of many labeled files.

“Molly,” she said, her tone solemn, “I handed my notice in at the library because I discovered something. And I’ve spent every moment of the past few months investigating it. It’s something very frightening that is going on in the world. Something that will affect you, me, everyone.”

Whatever this bad thing was, Molly knew she didn’t want to have anything to do with it. She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans as Lucy double-clicked on a computer file called “LA.” It summoned up a picture of the front page of the
Los Angeles Times.
The headline read:
DAVINA NUTTEL, CHILD STAR, FEARED SNATCHED
. There was the familiar face of the young actress grinning as she hugged a puppy.

“I suppose you’ve heard about this,” said Lucy. “The police can’t find any leads. The poor girl has completely vanished.”

“Poor Davina,” said Molly. “I hope she’s all right.”

“I expect she
isn’t,”
said Lucy. “I think Davina has been abducted by a person who has a lot of influence over the police force, so there isn’t
any
chance that he will
ever
be caught.”

“Who?” asked Molly. “How do you know?”

“Before I tell you who I think he is, I want to show you a few things.”

A series of pictures filled the screen. Oddly, they were all pictures from advertisements. First there was a red Primospeed sports car, then a green Nicesplice lawn mower, next a Compucell computer, then a Heaven Bar ice cream. Images of different objects that weren’t connected passed in front of Molly’s eyes. She recognized a lot of them. A blue-and-silver Inspirations fountain pen, a Shlick Shlack knife, a polka-dotted Fashion House dress, a jar of Navy Girl soup, a box of Honey Wheat Pufftas, a roll of Sumpshus toilet paper, a pot of Fresh Space face cream, a Vitawell yogurt, and a squeezy bottle of Bubblealot dishwashing liquid. Molly wondered what these everyday things could possibly have to do with the terrible kidnaping of Davina Nuttel.

Lucy asked suddenly, “How do you choose the things that you buy, Molly?”

“By knowing what I want?” replied Molly, not sure if this was the right answer. A can of Qube jumped about
on the screen, as if it was trying to help her.

“But how do you know what you want?” asked Lucy. “There are so many wonderful things. For instance, look at all these candies.” Lucy clicked, and dozens of different brands of candies popped up on the screen. Jawdrop gums, Coocoo toffees, Heaven Bar chews. “How do you know which candy to buy?”

“Well, I know the ones I like.”

“Yes, but before you
first
tasted those candies that you now know you like, how did you know to try them?”

“Because I’d heard about them?”

“From who?”

“From friends.”

“And …?”

“From ads?”

“Good,” said Lucy.

Molly wondered what Lucy meant. She didn’t think ads were very good. Weren’t all ads brainwashers?

“It’s good that you understand that advertisements have the power to make people buy things,” Lucy said. “Now, I want you to look at these faces.”

Onto the screen came a selection of famous faces that Molly mostly recognized. There were movie stars and singers and celebrities. Gloria Heelheart, the Queen of Hollywood; Suky Champagne, the young star; Billy
Bob Bimble, the boy singer; Hercules Stone; Cosmo Ace; King Moose, the boxer; and Tony Wam, the karate expert.

“I wonder,” said Lucy, stopping on a picture of a red-haired woman with big brown eyes, “whether you know what this woman likes to eat after she’s been to the gym.”

It was a peculiar question, but then Molly realized that she knew exactly what Stephanie Goulash, the chart-topping singer, liked to eat.

“Mightie Lighties,” Molly said, feeling as if she was on a TV quiz show.

“Absolutely correct,” said Lucy. “And how about this one, this movie star, Hercules Stone? What deodorant does he use?”

“In the Groove.” The words tumbled out of Molly’s mouth before she’d even registered that she knew the answer. Craig was always going on about Hercules Stone, about what he ate, what he wore, what he rolled on under his famous armpits.

“Good,” said Lucy again. “So you can see how these celebrities, like ads, are also showing people what to buy.”

Molly nodded.

“Millions of people know these things, just like you do. And this is what I’m worried about.”

Molly couldn’t imagine why Lucy should be worried. Perhaps Lucy was old-fashioned and didn’t think stars should let people into their private lives. But what on earth did this have to do with Davina’s kidnaping?

Lucy clicked up some video clips. There was a Mightie Lightie ad that finished with a tiny Stephanie Goulash sitting on top of a giant version of the famous cereal bar. In another, Hercules Stone brandished a stick of In the Groove as if it was a sword and fought off a pack of little green monsters. Twenty ads, ranging from lipsticks to washing machines, featured showbiz celebrities, sports stars, TV personalities. Molly recognized almost all of them.

“Here’s the most important thing,” said Lucy. “All the products in these ads are made by companies owned by
one man.
Each time any one of these things is sold, he gets richer.”

“He must be very rich then,” Molly remarked.

“Isn’t it an odd coincidence that so many celebrities should choose to advertise
his
products?” said Lucy. “None of them promote
anything else
from
any other
company.”

“Well, he probably pays them mountains of money to do it,” said Molly.

“I don’t think he pays them,” said Lucy. With a sudden swivel of her chair, she turned to look Molly full in the face. “I think he hypnotizes them.”

“What?!”

“Molly, you must have realized how powerful hypnotism is. You must know that if it gets into the wrong hands, it could be a very dangerous weapon.”

Molly nodded slowly. She didn’t want to hear what was coming next.

“I’ve long suspected,” Lucy continued, “that one day someone would try to make a lot of money through hypnotism. My great-grandfather always feared this possibility. He was right. Hypnotic power goes to bad as well as to good people. Bad people who can hypnotize are very greedy and destructive. This businessman is very dangerous.”

The screen was filled with the giant head and shoulders of a tall, smartly dressed, gray-haired man wearing a baseball cap, who stood arm in arm with two famous baseball players.

“He is a multi-multi-
billionaire.
He is so rich, Molly, that he makes more money in
one day
than all the people in Briersville make
together
in one year. His name is Primo Cell.”

Molly stared, fascinated, at more pictures of the
suave, tanned tycoon. All his features were unremarkable except for his eyes. One was turquoise, the other brown, and together the duo were stunningly magnetic. Molly just wanted to gaze at them. Here he was on a safari, holding a lion cub, and here a thousand feet up in the basket of a hot-air balloon. There were clips of him coming out of restaurants and at parties with the celebrities who had been on the screen earlier. Suky Champagne, Hercules Stone, Gloria Heelheart, Stephanie Goulash, and Cosmo Ace.