Dirk looked up at Holly’s wall clock. He scratched his head uncertainly.
“Here, try this,” said Holly, showing him her watch.
He read the time. 19:01.
“Digital – so much easier,” said Dirk, who had always struggled with the human concept of time.
“Tell him we need the distraction at a quarter to eight.”
Holly nodded and went to make the phone call. As he waited, Dirk checked out her room. He had never been in it before. It was all very Holly. On her desk were bits of paper with pencil-drawn pictures. He picked one up and recognized it as himself. He pulled open a drawer and saw the Shade-Hugger claw that they had discovered on their last case together. Dirk had forgotten all about it. She must have held on to it. It was against Dragonlore to let a human have any evidence of dragon existence but if anyone could be trusted with it, it was Holly.
When she came back in, he said, “I’m sorry I never returned your call.”
“That’s OK,” she said. “You’re here now.”
“Won’t your parents come and check on you?”
“No. My dad’s out and my stepmum has a friend coming round.”
“Let’s go then.”
With Holly’s arms wound tightly round his neck, Dirk scampered across the rows of residential roofs, expertly negotiating every aerial and chimney in his way. He jumped, flew and glided across South London, unseen by the human inhabitants glued to their screens of various sizes. He came to a sudden stop on a rooftop by the high street.
“There’s a bus coming,” he said. “Quick, blend with me.”
Dragon and girl vanished from sight just as the bus stopped next to them. Its top deck was level with the roof where they were hiding.
The driver indicated left and began to pull out.
“That’s the problem with buses,” said Dirk. “The top decks are ideal places for dragon-spotting. Now, hold on.”
Dirk leaped off the roof, spread his wings and landed gently on top of the moving bus, gripping tightly with his claws.
The only person to spot him was an overweight advertising executive in his second-storey apartment across the road from the bus stop. The man had been trying out his new running machine, but he stopped running when he saw a dragon with a girl on its back land on a double decker bus. He rubbed his eyes and looked again to find the bus still there but the dragon and the girl gone. Deciding that exercise clearly didn’t agree with him, he went downstairs to the kitchen where he found a large tub of strawberry-cheesecake-flavoured ice cream and a big spoon.
It wasn’t the first time Dirk had been spotted as he carried out his day to day occupation as a London-based dragon detective, but humans’ ability to disbelieve their own eyes had ensured that he always got away with these brief moments of visibility.
When the bus stopped outside the Global Sands building, Dirk flew over the silver gates and landed on the flat roof of the lab. He poked his head over the edge and looked through the window of the office.
“It’s empty,” he informed Holly.
She checked her watch. “It’s almost time.”
Dirk got into position and pulled out a black sphere about the size of a golf ball from behind his right wing.
“Hold this,” he said, handing it to Holly.
“What is it?” she asked, inspecting it. She recognized it as the object she’d mistaken for a paperweight on Dirk’s desk.
“It’s a retroreflective camera-neutralizer. It sends invisible infrared lasers to block the security cameras.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I found it,” he replied, flicking out the claws on his right paw, checking the sharpness of each, then plunging them into the roof. With the claws on his left paw he began to cut a hole.
“Mr Buchanan said nothing could cut through this roof,” said Holly.
“Buchanan has obviously never come across a dragon claw,” said Dirk.
Once he had made the hole, he pulled the piece of roof away. Carefully, he lifted one of the ceiling tiles of Brant Buchanan’s office, revealing the room below, then he took the black sphere off Holly.
“Check if he’s here yet,” he said.
She crawled to the edge and looked over. In the alleyway, a man in a baseball cap was standing in front of the back door to the lab. The man checked his watch and swizzled his baseball cap around, revealing the well-worn face of Ladbroke Blake, the private detective who had once been hired to follow Holly and, ever since, helped her out whenever she needed him. That night, instead of his trench coat, he was wearing a lurid red puffa jacket and in his hands was a large pizza box. He glanced at his watch again, chucked a piece of gum into his mouth and pressed the intercom buzzer at precisely 19:45.
“Aye?” Hamish’s voice came through the intercom.
“Free pizza, mate?” said Ladbroke, chewing the gum, speaking in a strong cockney accent.
“I didn’t order a pizza.”
“Nah, mate, it’s part of one of them promotional campaigns. It’s free. That’s why I called it a free pizza. So do you want it or not?”
“I can’t go opening this door for a free pizza. I’ve got my job to think about here, laddie,” said Hamish.
“Fair enough, chum. I’ll see if anyone else wants this free haggis pizza then.”
“Did you say haggis pizza?” said Hamish, suddenly sounding interested.
“Yeah, it’s one of our specials, sounds disgusting if you ask me. What is haggis, anyway? Smells pretty grim.”
“Philistine,” said Hamish. “Haggis is the food of the gods. I’ve never had it on a pizza, mind… And I am a bit peckish. Stay there, I’m coming now.”
Ladbroke glanced around. On the phone Holly hadn’t told him where she would be or why she needed him to act as a distraction, and he hadn’t asked. Holly always got the feeling that Ladbroke Blake had seen a lot more of the world than most people.
She nodded at Dirk and he dropped the camera-neutralizer into the room below them, waited for a second or two, then jumped in after it.
He landed in a crouching position and quickly took in the layout of the office. Behind him was the glass desk. In front was the purple sofa. There was a door to his right and on the ceiling were three cameras. He hoped the camera-neutralizer was working, otherwise the security cameras would be recording his every move.
Holly’s head appeared through the hole in the roof.
Dirk straightened up, grabbed her, then lowered her into the room.
“We need to be quick,” he said.
“The book’s in there,” said Holly, pointing to the copy of Dragonlore, clearly visible in the transparent desk’s drawer. She tried to open it, only to find it locked.
“I’ll have to pick the lock,” said Dirk. “Go and keep watch.”
Following orders didn’t come very naturally to Holly but it was different with Dirk. She trusted him.
She made her way down the stairs. At the bottom she stopped – she could hear footsteps. She looked through a glass pane in the door and saw the slim grey figure of Weaver striding down the corridor. She watched him walk into the room full of animal cages. Intrigued, she crept into the corridor and peered through the window that looked into the room. The bright overhead lighting flickered on and she saw Weaver carrying a plastic container with air holes along the top. He placed the container on a counter and pulled out what appeared to be a remote control from his pocket. He pressed a button. The container opened automatically and six white mice filed out, each walking to its designated cage. They were wearing the same metallic collars she had seen on the tabby cat.
Holly was suddenly distracted by a door at the other end of the corridor opening. She saw the edge of a silver case and then a mobile phone rang.
“Hello?” It was Brant Buchanan.
Holly took her chance, slipping out of the corridor and back up the stairs without being seen.
Dirk pushed the tip of his smallest claw into the keyhole and jiggled it abou
t. Picking locks was a fiddly business. Eventually he heard the click of the drawer being unlocked but, before he could grab the book, the door burst open and Holly entered.
“Hide!” she whispered. “Buchanan’s coming. There’s no time to get out.”
Holly ran to the side of the couch and Dirk dived into the corner by the desk. They both blended with their surroundings as the door opened.
From his position on the floor, Dirk watched Brant Buchanan cross the room. He placed the silver case on the desk, pulled up a chair and sat down. Through the glass, Dirk could read three letters on the base of the case: AOG.
“Hello, this is Hamish Fraser on security.” The voice came through the intercom.
“Yes, Hamish?” replied Buchanan.
“Is everything all right up there, Mr Buchanan, sir? The security cameras are out.”
“Everything’s fine, thank you.”
“Right then. Sorry to bother you.”
As Buchanan released the button on the intercom, he noticed that his desk drawer was unlocked. He pulled it open and lifted out the red book with the white zigzag on the cover.
For a few moments they all sat in silence while Buchanan flicked through the book, then he pressed the intercom again.
“Weaver, get up here,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” replied the voice.
Holly had seen how quickly Weaver could move but she was still impressed by how quickly he dropped what he was doing and ran up the stairs. The man marched into the room, his grey eyes twitching and alert.
“What is it, sir?”
“Ah, Weaver, listen to this,” said Buchanan. “‘Snow Dragons are one of the biggest challenges to a dragon spotter,’” the billionaire read aloud. “‘Not only do they live in the furthermost regions of Antarctica but, being both white-bellied and white-backed, they are incredibly well camouflaged. If you are lucky and do get close enough to see one in detail you will notice that the underbelly is covered in a very fine fur. This provides excellent insulation against the cold.’”
“Er… Very interesting, sir,” said Weaver, not sounding at all interested.
“Did you believe in dragons when you were a child, Weaver?” Buchanan asked.
“I can’t remember, sir.”
“I did. It sounds stupid but I believed that the world was full of dragons. Only they were in hiding, waiting for the right time to attack us. The funny thing was, I wasn’t scared. Do you know why?”
“No, sir.”
“Because for some reason I believed they would be on my side.”
“Yes, sir,” said Weaver. “Can we deal with the matter in hand now?”
“It’s always work, work, work with you, Weaver.” Buchanan sighed.
“I’m sorry, sir. But I think this is rather more pressing than fairy stories about made-up creatures.”
“As usual, you are completely right,” admitted his boss. “Show me how this thing works.”
Weaver reached over the desk, his grey shoes stepping dangerously close to Dirk’s nose, and pressed buttons on either side of the silver case. It opened but Dirk couldn’t see what it said on the screen.
“Normally it requires the Prime Minister’s DNA authentication to operate,” Weaver explained. “Fortunately, because of the recent government change, we have acquired it during a handover period.”
“Meaning?”
“Anyone who knows how to use it can operate it.”
“And do we know how to use it?” Buchanan asked.
“Yes. It came with instructions.” Weaver smiled and dropped a pamphlet on the desk.
Dirk read the cover:
“How very considerate of our friends in the Ministry of Defence,” said Buchanan.
“I’m sorry to bother you again, sir.” Hamish’s voice came through the intercom. “You’ve got a visitor. Angela Bigsby.”
“Thank you, send her up.”
“Are you sure this is wise? We barely know her,” said Weaver, pacing anxiously.
“Relax. She’s on the payroll. She’s one of us now,” said Buchanan.
The door opened and Holly’s stepmum entered.
“Ah, Angela,” said Buchanan, a broad grin on his face. “Look what we have here.”
Mrs Bigsby looked at the silver case on the desk. “But… But…” she stammered. “H-how did you, er, acquire it so quickly?”
“You don’t need to get bogged down in the details. The fact is we have what we want and it’s all thanks to you.”
“You promised no one would get hurt…” said Mrs Bigsby, sounding more nervous than Holly had ever heard her sound.
“I’m not a monster,” said Brant.
“But the ministry will be looking for it, won’t they?”
Buchanan laughed. “Angela, you should know yourself that when something as top secret as this goes missing, usual procedure is to deny that it exists at all. Looking for it draws too much attention.”
“Yes, that is true,” admitted Mrs Bigsby.
Buchanan turned to Weaver. “By the way, Weaver, good thinking knocking the security cameras out. You can’t be too careful.”
“I haven’t done anything to the cameras,” said Weaver, a sharp edge of anxiety in his voice.
“But Hamish said that they were—” Buchanan stopped mid-flow.
“You should get out of here,” said Weaver urgently. “I’ll do a proper sweep of the building but you need to leave immediately.”
“You worry too much, Weaver. It’s probably just a glitch. You know what technology is like, even our own.”
“All the same. Please, sir,” said Weaver firmly.
“All right. Come on, Angela, I’ll give you a lift home,” said Buchanan, standing up. “We can discuss your role at Global Sands on the way.”
Weaver escorted his boss and Mrs Bigsby to the car, then went back into the building alone. He systematically checked each camera. The red lights were on, which meant there was no fault with the equipment itself. He searched Buchanan’s office and discovered a small black sphere about the size of a golf ball. He picked it up and inspected it.
“Interesting,” he said to himself, dropping it into his pocket.
He walked to the desk and noticed that the instructions for the VE 6.2 and the red book with the white zigzag were no longer there.
“Very interesting,” he said, dropping to his knees and inspecting the floor. He found an area where the thick green carpet had been flattened. He jumped up with his arms outstretched and knocked the ceiling tile directly above it away. Where there should have been solid roof, there was a hole revealing the evening sky.
Weaver grabbed the chair from behind the desk, placed it below the hole and used it to climb out on to the roof. He scanned the rooftops and streets for any sign of the intruder, but whoever it was had gone. He looked closely at the jagged piece of roof that had been cut away.
“Extremely interesting,” he said, dropping back down into the office.
Dirk stopped a couple of streets from his office on the flat roof of a kebab shop with a good view of his window. The light was on and the blinds were pulled down.
“Aren’t we going in?” asked Holly.
“No, Alba will freak out if she sees you. And don’t you want to know what that silver case does first?”
Holly slipped off his back and opened the instruction manual Dirk had stolen. “The VE 6.2 is the latest weapon to come from the AOG project. VE stands for Volcano Erupter. It uses the same sonar technology as the QC3000 to cause any targeted volcano in the world to suddenly erupt regardless of how dormant it is believed to be.”
“Another triumph for the AOG project,” said Dirk grimly.
“Why would anyone want a volcano to erupt?” asked Holly.
“Nature’s weapons are the most powerful,” said Dirk. “Volcanoes can wipe out entire cities, they can destabilize economies, create confusion and fear. And unlike conventional attacks, there’s no one to retaliate against.”
�
��At least we have the instructions,” said Holly.
“True,” agreed Dirk. “Now for Sky Dragons.”
He pulled out the copy of Dragonlore and turned to the relevant chapter, flicking quickly through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Holly read it over his shoulder.
Of all the breeds, the Sky Dragon is both the most commonly spotted dragon in the world (what child hasn’t identified one in the sky?) as well as being the most mysterious. The author of this book is disappointed to inform you that, in spite of countless hours spent searching, he has never seen one in solid form.
It is thought that Sky Dragons often travel in vast herds, communicating with each other using a type of telepathy beyond the reach of other dragons. These herds have often been the source of confusion for meteorologists and the cause of many incorrect predictions of rain.
Although they rarely appear in any form other than that of passing clouds, some believe that one way to make them appear involves another dragon spitting liquid fire from the Earth’s Outer Core directly into the heart of a sublimated Sky Dragon, forcing it to materialize.
“I should get back to Alba,” said Dirk.
“It looks like she isn’t waiting around for you,” said Holly, pointing to his office window, where the blind was now up and there was a large shadow blocking the light. The shadow shifted and the Sea Dragon jumped out of the window, landing on the roof across the road, sending a few slates crashing to the ground.
“Rats at a disco,” groaned Dirk. “What’s she up to?”
“I don’t know,” replied Holly, “but I think she may have come face to face with a human being now.”
On Alba’s back, arms around her neck, was a boy.
“It’s Archie,” she said.
“Your new friend?” replied Dirk.
“Yeah, but how—” started Holly.
“I don’t know,” interrupted Dirk, “but they seem to be in a hurry. Come on.”
Following Alba was made harder by the trail of destruction she left in her wake. Dirk had his work cut out to avoid being spotted by the humans wondering what had knocked their aerials off their roofs.
Sky High! Page 7
