Vaulting Ambition
“Give a message to Martha,” Penelope Adkins said to herself as she jotted down the memo on a post-it note.
Writing such notes to herself was as much a way to help pass the time as it was part of her job responsibilities.
Although she’d love to be privy to the meetings the broader group of Administrators hold in the Board Room with their glorious leader, General Gordon Ainsworth, Penelope was happy to operate the reception desk in the large entrance hall of Cygninia Administrative Board’s Headquarters.
It could get quite lonely after the Administrators had signed themselves in if there weren’t any visitors during the meat of the day.
At least she had it slightly better than the security guard who protected the corridor between the reception and the street outside, as all she had was a small plastic chair to sit on.
Penelope gazed through the large glass doors separating her domain from the outside world, watching as someone carrying a large cardboard box set foot in the corridor and stated their case to the security guard before being ushered into the reception.
The visitor hobbled over to the desk, their face hidden by the large box.
Penelope tilted her head as the person came ever closer.
She furrowed her eyebrows before releasing them, as the box landed on her desk with a loud thud.
Penelope leant on the desk and smiled at the visitor. “Good morning, how can I help?”
“I found the contents of the box by the side of the road,” the visitor said. “I was hoping that you might be able to find their owner.”
Penelope grimaced at the stranger. “We could certainly try.”
The visitor simpered at Penelope. “Excellent. In that case, I’ll leave you to it; bye”
The guest pivoted on their feet and glided out of the reception and into the heart of town.
Penelope observed them leaving before glancing at the box.
On top of it was a sheet of paper.
Penelope picked it up and examined it; it was a letter written in cursive.
Dear whomever it may concern,
Enclosed in this box are a 24-carat gold bracelet encrusted with real gems and a Medieval Olifant.
Penelope raised her eyebrows and slowly moved her hand to the box, preparing to open it.
But instead, she froze and put her hand back, preferring to finish the letter first.
Both are estimated to be worth at least fifty million pounds; therefore, it is imperative that they are returned to their owner as soon as possible.
A smile slowly built up on her face; this was the most interesting thing to happen to her in many years.
I have tried to find them myself, but so far I have had no luck. You are my last shot at finding them.
Penelope nodded as she finished reading the letter.
I do hope the owners have their precious items, and I wish you luck in achieving this.
Yours sincerely,
Edgar Richardson
Penelope placed the letter to one side and gazed at the box.
She cracked her fingers and carefully pulled the cellotape off the box.
Penelope’s eyes bulged as she ogled its contents, and her mouth slowly dropped open.
Inside the box was an ornate gold wreath covered in diamonds, rubies, opals, emeralds, sapphires; you name it, it was there.
Next to it was a large horn created from an elephant’s tusk, with intricate carvings and gold rings attached to it.
Penelope gasped and closed the box, pushing it away, but not so hard that it fell onto the floor.
Knowing that the memo she was about to write was perhaps the most important of her life, Penelope removed the emergency quill from its glass case and dipped it into a pot of black ink.
“Return bracelet and Olifant to their owner,” she scratched onto a post-it note.
After washing the quill in the vase of Carnations she had on her desk, Penelope returned the quill to its case and picked up the phone.
“Good morning, General Ainsworth,” she said. “Someone called Edgar has handed in some items of lost property that we need to return to their owner.”
She quietly listened to the General before saying, “I’m afraid it is actually a matter of urgency. I’ll hand over the box in a moment.”
With that, Penelope put the phone down, picked up the box, and marched over to the main Board Room.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure you can agree that this is a rather unusual mission we are undertaking,” General Sir Gordon Ainsworth said as he examined the bracelet and Olifant situated on the table in front of him.
Leon Grimshaw, one of the General’s subordinates, examined the intricate bracelet. “I think it’s more likely these belong to someone living in a palace than a caravan.”
“Doesn’t your mum own something like this?” Chris Johnson, another Administrator, said to his colleague William Darcy, Earl of Cisnie.
“It’s possible,” William said, inspecting the jewels on the bracelet, “but I’m not familiar with the entire contents of my mother’s Armoire.”
Florence Seacole, one of the few women on the team, picked up the Olifant and examined the carvings. “Isn’t it illegal to buy and sell ivory products?”
“Think so, yeah,” Leon said, shrugging. “Must’ve bought it off some hustler on the Dark Web or the black market.”
“Really, we should confiscate the horn,” Gordon said. “But a concerned citizen by the name of Edgar Richard has tasked us with returning this property to its owner, and I’ll be damned if I fail to accomplish an Operation.”
“We could replace it with something that’s not illegal?” Leon said, eyeing his colleagues. “You know, a xylophone made out of a cat’s claws?”
“What a wonderful idea, Leon,” William said, nodding. “I think that warrants a round of applause.”
William applauded Leon, and when the others saw this, they began to clap as well.
Leon smirked at his colleagues and bowed in return. “Thanks, guys. Thought I’d make your lives a bit easier.”
Gordon clapped loudly, stunning his team into silence. “Right, let’s return to the task in hand, shall we?”
Chris scrutinised each gem on the bracelet. “Obviously, whoever these belong to is very wealthy, so that would narrow it down to Christoph Flooding, Rebecca Marshall, and the Darcys.”
“My parents, I assume,” William said, glancing at Chris. “As I can assure you that Sally and I do not have such objects in our possession.”
“I can see Rebecca owning the bracelet,” Deborah Wright, another member of the Board, said. “But I can’t see her owning an elephant’s horn.”
“I agree,” William said. “These seem more like objects owned by the aristocracy than the meritocracy.”
“Are you sure you haven’t seen these around your parents’ house?” Chris said.
William nodded. “Absolutely, although father wouldn’t want me to know that he owns ivory, especially now that my personal politics have moved slightly leftwards.”
“Flooding wouldn’t be above owning illegal objects, would he?” Leon said. “But would he wear women’s jewellery?”
“I don’t see why he shouldn’t,” Chris said. “Each to their own.”
“Right, everyone, I beleive Lord Flooding is just as good a person to start with as any,” Gordon said. “So, some of you shall come with me to visit him personally, whilst the rest of you stay here and carry out your regular administrative duties.”
“That’s fair, I guess,” Leon said, sighing. “The Spending Review’s gotta be done soon, mainly in case we’re spending our tight budget on unnecessary things.”
“Excellent,” Gordon said. “Those of you who wish to join Christopher, William, and me at Cedarvale House, please follow us.”
Chris and William glanced at each other, neither of them having expressed an interest in accompanying Gordon, nor having been given the opportunity.
“I shall put you in charge of tending the camp, Deborah”, Gordon said, pointing his staff in her direction.
Initially, she was somewhat annoyed that Gordon had forced her to stay behind without consulting her first, but the realisation that he had essentially appointed her as a temporary President of the Administrative Board prompted her frown to turn into a smirk.
”Come along, Christopher, William,” Gordon said, marching out of the boardroom.
William invited Chris to vacate the room first, before departing himself.
Once everyone who wanted to do the fun part had left, Deborah placed herself in Gordon’s chair at the head of the table.
She clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.
“Right,” Deborah said. “A few hours in the computer room, I think.”
With that, Deborah led her new subordinates out of the meeting room and into the office space for some regular admin.
The household staff of Lord Christoph Flooding were initially alarmed to see a large tank roll up the long driveway towards Cedarvale House.
Geoffrey Johnson, Christoph’s head gardener, was busy pruning the topiary bushes directly outside the imposing country mansion when the tank roared through the gatehouse.
He jumped at the sound of the rumble and turned round to see the military vehicle ride into town.
Geoffrey furrowed his brow as he examined the military behemoth, but beamed at the sight of his son, Chris and waved to him.
Chris waved back, the sight of his father relieving his anxiety about his confrontation with Cygninia’s notorious former fascist MP.
The tank ground to a halt outside Christoph’s front door, and Gordon hopped out of it and knocked on the door personally.
Bert Stevens, Christoph’s long-suffering butler, greeted Gordon.
“Good morning,” Bert said, glancing at the tank behind the General. “Has the time come for his Lordship to languish in the dark pit of Room One Hundred and One?”
Gordon guffawed at the Butler’s question. “No, we’re merely here to return some lost property to him.”
“Of course, sir,” Bert said, bowing his head, and ushering Gordon’s entourage into the house. “Do come in, his Lordship is in the library.”
As they made their way to the library, Chris examined the various animal heads and ceremonial weapons adorning the walls of the Great Hall.
“Is that a sword?” Chris said, staring wide-eyed at the large blade hanging on the wall over the fireplace.
“Yes, I believe it is,” William said, glaring at it through narrow eyes. “Christoph probably bought it from an auction house, or it came with Cedarvale when he bought it. It certainly isn’t a genuine heirloom such as the collection of weaponry we have at Cisnie and Rosewood.”
When the Administrators reached the library, it was like stepping into an oven as the roaring fireplace had filled the room with its oppressive heat.
Lord Christoph Flooding reclined in a velvet armchair, gazing out of the window at the Deer Park and its herd of deer.
Gordon strode closer to the armchair, with William in tow, but Chris tentatively tiptoed behind them.
Gordon cleared his throat. “Good morning, Lord Flooding.”
Christoph jumped in his seat and leapt out of it.
Upon seeing General Ainsworth and his posse, Christoph composed himself and bowed.
“Sir Gordon,” Christoph said. “What a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise,” Gordon said, inviting William to come hither with the cardboard box. “Some unusual items were handed into the Administrative Board that we believe may belong to you.”
“Intriguing,” Christoph said, wriggling his fingers. “May I examine them?”
“Of course,” Gordon said. “Open the box, please, Lord Cisnie, there’s a good man.”
William opened the container and held the Olifant and nextlace aloft in Christoph’s face.
A manic grin appeared on Lord Flooding’s face. “Excellent. They certainly are exquisite, aren’t they?”
“Indeed,” Gordon said. “But the question is, do you recognise them?”
Christoph moved away from the box and regarded General Ainsworth. “Alas, I do not.”
Gordon frowned and gazed at the floor, sighing. “I see. I admit I did wonder what you would be doing with women’s jewellery as a single man.”
“It may have belonged to my mother,” Christoph said. “Yes. She wouldn’t stop wearing it if she had it.”
“Are you sure they didn’t belong to your mother?” William said.
“I’m pretty sure that it isn’t,” Christoph said, pivoting towards the fireplace. “But I am willing to take the possessions off your hands if that would serve you?”
Christoph wandered over to a thick bit of rope dangling from the ceiling and fed it through his hands.
“The Olifant would look good tied to this. Yes. I could use it to call the servants to attention.”
“That’s a very generous offer, Lord Flooding,” Gordon said. “But we have been tasked with returning the objects to their rightful owner. So if that isn’t you, we’ll bid you good day.”
Christoph smiled and bowed his head. “As you wish.”
He strode over to the armchair and plonked himself inside it, observing the deer outside.
“Thank you for your time, Lord Flooding,” Gordon said, before marching out of the room. “Come along, chaps, our mission is yet to be accomplished.”
William stomped behind the General, but as Chris tried to do the same, he stumbled on an uneven floorboard and fell on the rug.
“Do be careful of your footing,” Lord Flooding said, addressing Chris, but fixated on the view outside. “The nails are starting to lose their strength, and thus the floorboards are becoming loose.”
Chris brushed himself off and rejoined his colleagues in the Great Hall.
“I’ve always admired this house,” Gordon said, admiring the animal heads adorning the walls. “I was tempted to buy it myself before Christoph snapped it up.”
“You may yet have a chance, General,” William said. “No man is immortal, no matter how hard they try.”
Gordon cleared his throat and checked to see whether Chris had rejoined them, which he had.
William glanced at the lost property he was holding. “Well, if the necklace didn’t belong to Christoph’s mother, it could only belong to mine.”
“Jolly good,” Gordon said, beaming. “Come along, chaps, there’s no time like the present. Onwards to Rosewood.”
Gordon marched back to his tank, his two lackeys in tow, and together the three of them drove to Rosewood Hall, and the peace and tranquillity returned to Cedarvale House.
Anne Darcy, 9th Marquess of Cygninia, examined the ornate necklace.
After a long while, a smile appeared on her face. “Yes, I believe this is the necklace I lost at the theatre when we went to see Macbeth, thank you, William.”
William pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. “All in a day’s work, mother.”
George stared at the elephant horn in his hand, nodding his head slightly whilst grinning manically. “This is indeed the Medieval Olifant I stole from the British Museum.”
William scowled at the Marquess. “Father! How could you?”
George chuckled at his son’s remark. “Now, now, William. I only stole it on a technicality. The museum asked me to look after it for a while, and I simply haven’t returned it. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I ever will.”
George delicately placed the artefact on the mahogany chest of drawers next to him.
“It’s not as if they’ve asked for it back. I assume that they’ve forgotten.”
William crossed his arms and frowned at his father. “It’s actually illegal to own ivory, Father.”
George smiled and shook his head. “Even if so, I doubt I’ll be arrested. They haven’t banged me up yet.”
Anne gently tapped on her husband’s shoulders. “The responsibilities of the police force were given to the Administrators when the Administrative Board was formed, dear,” she said in a quiet voice whilst eyeing her son and his colleagues.
“I am well aware of that, darling, and I know for sure that my son would not dare allow his father to languish in that small dungeon they have underneath the Headquarters,” George said, smirking at his son.
William stooped and sighed dejectedly, backing away closer to Gordon.
George raised his chin high. “You may do whatever you want with the Olifant after you’ve inherited it, but for now, it stays with me.”
William tilted his head and gazed at his father with a raised eyebrow.
Gordon, meanwhile, chortled as he scrutinised a copy of the Cygninia Tittle Tattle in his hands. “I thought I’d catch up on the latest news only to discover that this issue is ten years old! What fun!”
George cleared his throat as he regarded Gordon. “I’m writing a comprehensive history of Cygninia, so I felt it was best to research historical events as journalists reported them at the time.”
“I see,” Gordon said. “Very, very good.”
Gordon placed the newspaper back on the small table where he had found it and focused on the rest of the group.
Chris glanced at his watch, tapping his foot.
“Are we done here?” He said. “It’s just I promised Soph we’d have a meal at the Falstaff Arms in about thirty minutes.”
“Indeed, Christopher, I do believe our mission is complete,” Gordon said before turning to William. “Do you wish to say anything more to your parents, Lord Cisnie?”
William smiled at his parents. “No. We’ll catch up when I visit with Sally at the weekend.”
William bid his parents farewell and paraded outside their country pile with his colleagues.
“Gentlemen, you can make yourselves proud for what you’ve done today. We have reunited a couple with their lost property.”
William smiled and patted Chris on the back.
Just as they arrived at the tank, Gordon received a phone call from Penelope.
“Ah, Penelope! I have some excellent news: our mission has been successful.”
As Gordon listened to his receptionist on the phone, his face fell.
William’s eyebrows drew together as he noticed Gordon’s change in mood.
He glanced at Chris, who was frowning.
“I see,” Gordon said. “We’ll be with you right away, and we can sort it then. Goodbye, Penelope.”
Gordon ended the call and placed the phone back into his pocket.
“Unfortunately, gentlemen, we are not quite done. You see, it appears our friend Edgar has challenged us to return some more eccentric lost property to its owner, this time a sword originally belonging to the Samurai.”
William and Chris exchanged glances as they climbed into the tank.
And so the three of them roared back to base, ready to start their next mission.
The Robinsonverse 