Wonka, p.12
Wonka, page 12
“Oh, we had a giraffe in here earlier,” the priest said.
Slugworth turned to see a flamingo aggressively pecking at his window. “Sorry the line is bad—A what? It sounded like you said ‘giraffe,’ but that can’t be ri—”
“Yes!” the priest interrupted. “A giraffe! From the zoo! We had to clear the whole place for about twenty minutes, but everything’s back to normal now.”
Slugworth hung up and dialed Fickelgruber and Prodnose on his special cartel phone. It was a direct line to every member all at the same time.
“Gentlemen,” Slugworth said, “where are you?”
“On my way to see the tailor,” Fickelgruber lied.
“I’m . . . just having a bath,” Prodnose screeched. “I am!”
The line fell silent before Slugworth said faintly, “In your car?”
“It’s . . . a car bath?” Prodnose squeaked. “Why, haven’t you got one?”
Slugworth sat very still as he listened down the line. Pecking on windows . . . The same squawks and flapping sounds . . .
“Hello?” Fickelgruber and Prodnose said at once.
“I’m still here,” Slugworth said. “And so are you—we’re stuck in a flamingo jam. You’re going to see Wonka. We all are. Except he’s not going to be there.”
“Why? Where is he?” Fickelgruber asked.
“In the crypt,” Slugworth said, a red rage consuming him. “Robbing us.”
Chapter Twenty-four
The Vault and the Truth
Willy and Noodle stood by the gargantuan steel door to the vault. There were three individual coded dials, one marked for each chocolatier.
Noodle held up the three pieces of paper from Piper. She read them out slowly and carefully so Willy wouldn’t make a mistake.
“Six, four, two,” she said. “Two, seven, three, nine, one, eight.”
Willy dialed in the combination, took a deep breath, and then together they heaved the huge wheel dial, trying to open it.
“One, two . . .” Willy whispered. “Th—”
The lock didn’t budge.
“It’s the wrong code!” Noodle cried. “It didn’t work!”
Willy slumped. They were inches away from the final piece of their plan, but without the code, they might as well have been all the way back at the start.
“Ah!” Noodle said, making Willy jump. “Hang on a minute . . .”
“What is it, Noodle?” he asked hopefully, and then he saw what she was doing. She was rotating the last piece of paper.
“It might’ve been upside down,” she said. “Try eight, one, six.”
CLUNK!
“Noodle!” Willy cried, looking at her in awe as he heaved the heavy door open to reveal a secret lair filled with pipes and valves and strange controls and clanging machinery. “Well done. You passed the test.”
“What test?” Noodle asked.
“The upside-down number test,” Willy replied.
“That’s not a test.”
“It absolutely is a test. Now,” he said, his eyes scanning the room. “Let’s find that ledger.”
They raced into the lair, emptying drawers and upending piles of paper. They searched under chairs and under rugs. They searched everywhere.
“Anything?” Willy asked.
Noodle threw some chocolate boxes to the ground in frustration. “Nothing!”
“Well, keep looking,” Willy said. “It’s here; it must be.”
Noodle slumped into a chair. “It’s not here, Willy.”
“It must be. Abacus told us—”
“Abacus has been in the washhouse for the past four years,” Noodle said. “Maybe they changed it. Maybe all that scrubbing went to his head. All that’s down here is a load of stupid old chocolate!” She picked up a box of Slugworth’s chocolates and threw them hard. The chocolates went flying across the room, the box crashed into a tile on the wall, and a strange click sounded. Then the tile did an incredible thing. It flipped open to reveal a hidden compartment behind it!
Inside was a chunky book bound in green leather.
“The green ledger!” Willy cheered, grabbing it and hoisting it in the air. “You had me going there for a minute, Noodle. But you knew where it was all along!”
“No, I didn’t. I just—”
Suddenly there was a BANG. Willy turned to see Slugworth armed and blocking their only exit. Fickelgruber and Prodnose stood smugly by his side.
“Naughty, naughty, Mr. Wonka,” Slugworth snarled. “You’ve caused us quite a bit of trouble, you and your urchin.”
“She’s not just an urchin, though, is she?” Willy said, bravely stepping forward, eager not to miss his chance to find some answers. “You’re family.”
“What?” Noodle said. “What are you talking about, Willy?”
“You know that ring?” he said gently. “The one you got from your parents? Well, Mr. Slugworth has one just like it. Don’t you, Mr. Slugworth?”
Slugworth narrowed his eyes at Willy as Noodle pulled the ring from around her neck.
“That was my brother’s ring,” Slugworth said, his eyes still fixed on Willy. “Zebedee, he was called.”
Noodle stared down at the necklace and whispered. “Was he my father?”
“A hopeless romantic is what he was!” Slugworth spat. “Fell in love with a common little bookworm but died before they could marry, leaving me sole heir to the family fortune. Or so I thought. Then I heard you were soon to be born, another heir with a claim to my money. But as luck would have it, not long after you arrived, your mother showed up on my doorstep, begging me to get a doctor for her sick little newborn . . . I said to leave the child with me—I could help.”
Willy moved closer to Noodle, worried for his friend. The news didn’t seem to have sunk in—she remained emotionless, her face blank and unreadable. But then the hand gripping her ring began to shake.
“Of course, I had other plans,” Slugworth said with a wicked grin.
“You didn’t take me to a doctor,” Noodle said. “You took me to Scrubitt and Bleacher.”
“Down the laundry chute you went!” Slugworth laughed. “To a sad little life!”
“Not N for Noodle,” she said as she thumbed the ring. “Z for Zebedee.”
“It’s the meanest story I’ve ever heard!” Willy cried in disbelief. “And what lie did you tell her mother to cover your tracks?”
“Oh, I said the baby had died,” Slugworth said dismissively. “I gave her a bag of sovereigns and sent her back where she came from. She was heartbroken, but she believed me.”
Willy turned his attention to the beefy green ledger, flicking through as fast as he could go.
“Where did you send her back to, Slugworth?” Noodle said, her voice desperate. “She might be out there still! What’s her name?”
“Ooh,” Slugworth said, tapping his chin. “Now then, what was it . . . ? Umm . . . No, I don’t think I can remember that. You must understand, she was very poor.”
Fickelgruber retched at the word.
“Sorry, Felix,” Slugworth said.
Willy stopped rifling through the pages of the ledger and looked up, his stomach flip-flopping. “I’ve found her,” he said. “Noodle, she was called Dorothy Smith.”
Noodle stared at Willy in disbelief. “You found her?”
“Look,” Willy said, pointing to an entry in the ledger. “She’s right here.”
Noodle read the ledger, then suddenly her head snapped up. “Wait, Willy, how did you read that?”
“I guess you did teach me to read after all,” he said with a smile.
“Well, this is all very touching,” Slugworth said. “But I’ve got a treat for you.”
Fickelgruber snatched the ledger from Willy.
“What treat?” Noodle asked.
Slugworth fixed her with a grim grin. “DEATH BY CHOCOLATE!” he snarled.
Chapter Twenty-five
Death by Chocolate
The Cartel marched Noodle and Willy through a steel door with a small porthole window at the far end of the lair. Inside, an enormous tank filled with chocolate bubbled before them, looking like a great big—and very deadly—mixing bowl. Whirring blades sliced angrily through the mixture.
Fickelgruber pulled a lever, and to Willy’s relief, the blades stopped. But his relief was short-lived.
“On you go,” Slugworth said, nudging the pair on to the top of the blade that stretched out before them. He gestured along the blade all the way to the middle of the tanks where a small metal island sat—the steel plate that held the blades in place.
“Considering the situation,” Willy said as they made their way to the center of the tank, “I wondered if you gentlemen would do a good deed on my behalf?”
“A what?” Fickelgruber spat.
“A good deed,” Prodnose clarified for him. “It’s a sort of pointless act of selflessness.”
“Of course, Mr. Wonka,” Slugworth said quickly, clearly keen to move things along. “What is it you want us to do?”
Willy reached into his hat and pulled out a jar of chocolates.
“I wonder if you could give these to someone—only if you happen to see him, you understand.” Willy tossed the chocolates back to the Cartel.
“Who is it?” Slugworth asked.
“A little orange man, about this high.” Willy held his hand to his knee. “And he has green hair.”
“Eh?” Slugworth said.
“I owe him a jar of chocolates,” Willy said. “And, well, I think these might be the best I’ve ever made.”
He jiggled the jar. Inside were Hoverchoc-shaped chocolates, only these ones were striped in vivid shades of purple, green, and blue.
“Right. Sure, I’ll see he gets them,” Slugworth said dismissively. “Now keep walking.”
Willy and Noodle had no choice. They inched their way across the perilous blade to the little island. Fickelgruber pulled the lever once more, and the huge blade started up again, trapping them there.
Willy and Noodle watched in horror as the chocolatiers then left the room, sealing the door behind them. Beyond the porthole the men stood at a wall of valves in the lair, turning them one by one. Immediately, chocolate came bursting from three pipes that lined the tank, spilling down like thundering waterfalls—one from each chocolatier’s factory. The level rose fast, and soon the liquid was splashing against their shoes.
Willy gulped. In seconds they were lifted up by the liquid, rising toward the roof of the tank. But the force of the blade was pulling them down, deeper into the chocolate.
They watched hopelessly as the chocolatiers retreated farther back into the lair, and could see Fickelgruber returning the ledger to the secret compartment.
“Willy!” Noodle shouted as the chocolate reached their stomachs. “Start kicking. We have to stay afloat.”
She was right: if the blade dragged them under, they’d be churned to pieces. But the roof of the tank was inching closer, and once they reached the top, they’d surely drown.
But Willy had other concerns on his mind. He began pulling bottles of ingredients from his pockets and chucking them haphazardly into the mixture.
“What are you doing?” Noodle cried.
“If we’re going to die in chocolate, Noodle,” he said, “then it’s going to be Wonka chocolate.”
* * *
* * *
PING! The elevator arrived back up in the cathedral and the Cartel stepped out. Slugworth looked at the jar of Wonka’s chocolates.
“Best he’s ever made, eh?” And then he grabbed a handful and put them in his mouth. The others did the same.
“Now, um, gentlemen,” the priest said sheepishly as he appeared behind them. “It was a bit of a close shave today, and I was wondering if we should rethink our arrangement or . . .”
Slugworth threw him the jar with the last of the chocolates, and the man’s face lit up.
“Or just leave things as they are!” the priest said, licking his lips.
“That Wonka might have been as nutty as a fruitcake,” Slugworth said as the Cartel made for the door, “but he sure knew how to make chocolate.”
“Do you think we should have saved some for the small orange man with the green hair?” Prodnose asked.
“Tell me you’re joking,” Fickelgruber said.
“Of course I am!” Prodnose cried before asking, “Why am I joking?”
“Because there’s no such thing, you nincompoop!” Slugworth bellowed.
“I knew that!” Prodnose said indignantly. “But then, why did he say there was . . . ?”
* * *
* * *
Back in the tank, Willy’s and Noodle’s heads were bobbing perilously close to the ceiling of the tank. The chocolate was sloshing into their mouths, and Willy knew it was only seconds before their entire heads would go under. Up above them, they spotted a small, round window.
“Help! Help! Help!” they screamed over and over again, desperately banging on the glass. Suddenly shadows floated over them.
“People!” Noodle said, spluttering chocolate. “It’s the cathedral up there. They heard us!”
But then the shadows grew closer, and their faces became clear.
“Oh, not them,” Willy cried as Slugworth, Fickelgruber, and Prodnose grinned down at the pair. Those smug smiles were the last thing Willy and Noodle saw before the chocolate flooded their faces and the world disappeared.
Chapter Twenty-six
Oompa-Loompa in an Elevator
The priest sat huddled in the confessional, polishing off the last of the chocolates, muttering guiltily to himself.
“You must pull yourself together,” he whispered. “honestly, stop worrying about these very minor misdeeds; it’s not like anyone is going to appear and punish you. It’s just chocolate.”
“Correction,” came a growl, and the priest looked down to where the noise came from, right next to his shoes.
“It’s my chocolate,” the Oompa-Loompa said. “Imagine my surprise when I followed the smell and it led me to you. EATING MY CHOCOLATES!”
The priest immediately fainted, and the empty jar dropped into the Oompa-Loompa’s arms. His face grew very serious indeed.
“You steal from an Oompa-Loompa, we take back a thousandfold!” he bellowed, then he stopped and sniffed the air. Chocolate, lots of it . . . He sniffed again. Underground! The perfect compensation. He spotted the little lever next to the priest and pulled it down. Much to his surprise, the confessional box began to move . . .
When the elevator door opened in the crypt, the Oompa-Loompa pulled a string by his side, and a pair of mechanical wings unfurled from his jacket. He took off, soaring through the vault, following his nose all the way to the chocolate tank. He hovered at the small porthole window and watched the churning chocolate. But then something shocking caught his eye—a familiar top hat swirling in the mixture. He gasped when he realized, and quick as a flash, he darted to the wall of valves and controls where he spotted a lever marked Emergency Drain. He pulled it, and immediately the tank started glugging and bubbling, and much to the Oompa-Loompa’s delight, the blades stopped churning and the level began to fall. The Oompa-Loompa bit his nails, wincing as he waited to see what would be left of Willy at the end of it.
Inch by inch, the chocolate slopped out of the tank. It was so quiet, so still, so lifeless down there.
Then suddenly, Willy and Noodle broke the surface, coughing and spluttering and taking enormous gulps of air.
“We’re alive!” Noodle cried with joy, giving Willy a hug before shaking some chocolate out of her ear.
Willy could hardly believe it. He was so happy he began doing somersaults, swirling around and around in the vortex of chocolate as it drained from the tank. Soon it was almost empty, with only some chocolate puddles remaining at the bottom.
“We’ve been saved!” Noodle said, splashing about happily in what little chocolate remained. “Who saved us?”
Willy glanced up and spotted a small figure hovering by the window.
“Aha!” he said, giving his friend a grateful nod. “It was the little orange man with the green hair, Noodle.”
“I’m serious, Willy,” Noodle said.
“So am I!” Willy said. “He’s right there.”
But when Noodle looked up, the Oompa-Loompa was gone.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The Empty Jar
The Cartel emerged from the cathedral just as the Chief lumbered around the corner, accompanied by Affable and a couple of assisting officers. Eating 1,800 boxes of chocolates had really taken its toll. His face was gray and smeared with chocolate; his eyes were as heavy-looking as his stride. He puffed to a halt, and cried, “Gentlemen! Thank goodness you’re all right! I came as fast as I could. A robbery, you say?”
“Don’t you worry, Chief. Everything’s under control. Couple of thieves broke in, but I’m afraid they met with a little accident,” Slugworth said grimly.
“In which they died,” Prodnose clarified.
The Cartel all laughed.
“What’s the big joke?” came a voice, and they all turned in horror to see Willy standing on the cathedral steps with Noodle, dripping in chocolate and very much alive.
“Wonka!” Slugworth bellowed. “You should be dea—” He stopped when he saw what was in Noodle’s hand, and then he started to tremble.
“Officer,” Willy said, calling to Officer Affable. “Would you kindly take a look at this?”
Noodle handed him the green ledger.
“It details every single illegal payment these men have ever made,” Noodle explained, flashing the Cartel a satisfied smile. “Thousands of them.”
