The letter was full of all the fascinating details that Wendy had told Betty about Peter and the Neverland, details that matched absolutely everything Otto had said.
Lord Bryan’s interest was aroused almost to fever pitch by the time he had finished reading. Summoning the professor, he got him to go over, again and again, all the things he remembered about that marvellous place.
As Otto told him more and more about the island and its strange inhabitants, ideas began to erupt inside his Lordship’s head.
“Octopus! Mortimer! I have a great idea! Let’s suppose this place really exists. It doesn’t belong to anybody. There are only children living there, as well as some Red Indians and a couple of down-at-heel pirates. Then there’s nature, nature and even more nature! There are tigers, lions, bears, mermaids and infinite unpolluted beaches. It’s a tax heaven and a tourist paradise - and it’s also big business for the first person that can lay his hands on it. And that person is going to be ME!
“I’ll move my residence there, and my companies as well, of course. I could open a bank and a casino.”
By this time, you and I have become accustomed to observing how Lord Bryan dreams up new ventures, driven on by his extraordinary business sense. We can only continue to marvel at his enthusiasm and ability to create new projects, as well as listen to him while he illustrates all these fantastic plans with such mental agility and ease.
“We could build a hotel. Let’s say, about 5,000 rooms. It will be the world’s first theme park. Everything we need is there already. We’ll set up a little train to take the tourists to the Indian village and the lost boys’ place. We can offer canoe trips on the river, all-inclusive tours to the pirate galleon and mermaid-watching expeditions…we’ll even sell the children packets of food so they can feed the mermaids.
“By the way, professor, what do mermaids eat? They’re really fish, after all. Fish usually like tasty titbits, so we could give them Recycled Jones. We could have a picture of Peter Pan, with a tin of Recycled Jones in his hands feeding the mermaids, on our brochure! Take note of that, Mortimer. I think that would be a perfectly terrific idea!
“And then,” Lord Bryan’s mind raced on, “What about hunting? All those wild animals! A perfect paradise for sportsmen! I wonder if you can fish for mermaids? A nice stuffed mermaid would look good above the fireplace in a seaside villa in Maryland or the Costa Azzurra. I wonder how much an American tourist would be prepared to pay to have a stuffed mermaid above his mantelpiece?”
“And how do you plan to get these tourists to the island?” Mortimer sneered sceptically.
“Oh, son, I told you: THINK BIG! They’ll fly there, naturally. If we manage to reproduce fairy dust in the Synthesizer, transportation will be no problem.” Lord Bryan’s lively brain had conjured up an exciting new business venture and he wasn’t going to let it go. “It will cost us next to nothing to make the fairy dust. We can do without these expensive German Zeppelins! We won’t be giving any more of our precious currency to Germany. We’ll set up the world’s first low cost air transportation company for tourists – and it will be British! Yes, indeed, British!
“I’ve already thought of a name,” he rushed on. “We’ll call it ‘Bryan Air’. It’ll be a huge success. That’s absolutely certain!
“We’ll have the monopoly on fairy dust made in our Synthesizer. Britain will no longer be subjected to the blackmailing tactics of these strange petroleum barons in caftans! They’ve got their smelly petrol? We have an endless reserve of even smellier garbage! Do you know, Mortimer, that the industrialised countries are the greatest producers of rubbish? And the Ffink Pfenninger Jones family will have the monopoly – not only here, but world-wide…”
He paused to reflect.
“If you think about it, this is really something to be proud of!” he concluded.
“That’s very well,” sniffed Mortimer from the darkest corner of the room. “But how do we get hold of a fairy?”
“Octopus, what do you need in order to duplicate fairy dust?” asked the Earl, somewhat impatiently.
“Ich told you yestersday, milort. Get fairy and put it in Synthesizer, ja!” was the professor’s laconic reply. He was well aware that the first rule of a good consultant is not to offer too detailed advice on things you know nothing about.
The two men seemed to have come to a kind of impasse. Then Mortimer came up with his own idea: “Maybe I’ve got the answer. Let’s invite William and Betty to dinner on the 27th December. We'll tell them to bring their friend Wendy. You promised William you’d look after Betty, and so you can say you want to meet young Wendy Darling. He’ll swallow that and he’ll even be grateful for the trouble you’re taking!”
He dropped his voice. “After dinner, we’ll send them home in our carriage. They’ll only have the coachman with them. Before they reach the Darling’s house, a gang of our “Humanitarian Guardians” will attack the carriage with their clubs.
“I’ll speak to Johnny the Stinker. He’s a bright boy. They won’t hurt the kids, but they’ll take them off to the dump and we’ll hide them inside the Synthesizer. If Wendy’s telling the truth, this Peter Pan will come the next day with his fairy to take them to the island. He’ll have to go into the Synthesizer to get them and he’ll have to sprinkle them with fairy dust so that they can fly away.
“So, if the professor gets the machine ready and sets the timer, we’ll be able to get the sample of fairy dust we need.”
“Brilliant, atsolutely brilliant!” said Otto admiringly.
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