And then he saw the lone soldier sitting on the top of the ridge.
The soldier had been watching Napoleon the whole time. Just before Napoleon faded from view the soldier nodded and saluted.
Napoleon expected to be back with the professor in no time, but the GC-Locator had other plans.
Instead of arriving in the Special Reading Room, he found himself back at the very start of his adventure – standing on the German airfield in the morning mist, the Entry Beam still around him.
This time a bright yellow triplane was thundering down the airstrip, straight at him. Two more seconds and he’d be history.
‘Hang on tight!’ the professor shouted. ‘I’m hitting the turbo switch.’
Napoleon took off like a rocket.
‘WHOA,’ he shouted. ‘I think I’ve left my stomach behind.’
‘Negative,’ said Skin. ‘Vital organs intact.’
Napoleon was being shaken and pulled. A terrifying rattling sound grew louder and louder in his ears.
‘What’s happening?’ he yelled.
‘Immediate action required,’ Skin said to the professor. ‘High Danger! Exit speed too great for Battle Boy’s safety.’
‘I’m trying!’ Professor Perdu shouted. ‘I’m just making the final adjustments.’
‘Please hurry,’ said Napoleon. ‘I don’t feel so good.’
‘Potential for vomiting detected,’ said Skin. ‘Immediate action for self-preservation required. Last encounter with vomit damaged essential circuits and —’
‘Yes, Skin, all right,’ the professor interrupted. ‘I think I’ve worked it out. Fingers crossed.’
She was right. The exit speed slowed, and a minute later Napoleon thumped into the padded wall of the Tome Tower.
The professor’s face smiled down at him from the flickering screen.
‘Welcome home, BB.’ She sounded relieved. ‘Mission accomplished.’
Napoleon’s mother was standing at the front door as he raced up the driveway.
‘Don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘It was another great book and you just lost all sense of time.’
‘You bet, Mum,’ Napoleon said. ‘The end was a bit sad, though.’
‘Not nearly as sad as your end will be if you don’t get in here at once. Everyone’s waiting, and you know how Monty likes to keep to his schedule.’ She smiled and headed back into the house.
Napoleon leaped off his bike and ran after her.
Everyone was waiting. All Monty’s friends were there. They were gathered around a big table where the party food was laid out, as well as the cake.
Monty had a ceremonial sword in his hand, ready to cut the cake. Napoleon looked at the beautifully made Spanish galleon and thought it was a shame to eat it. But he was hungry. Spying on the past really built up an appetite.
Monty raised the sword above the cake and was just about to cut it when —
‘Wait!’ Napoleon called out.
‘What’s wrong now, Nappy?’ Caesar asked.
‘I haven’t given my present to Monty yet.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’ve been holding onto it for ages. Here.’
He opened his hand. The old bullet shell lay in it.
Monty stared at the cartridge, not sure what to make of it. He picked it up. ‘Um, er, thanks. I think.’
Caesar turned up his nose. ‘What a piece of junk!’
Napoleon shook his head. He wanted to tell them the truth, but knew he couldn’t.
His father picked up the cartridge and looked at it closely.
‘This is far from being a piece of junk, Caesar,’ he said. He stared in amazement at Napoleon. ‘Where did you get this?’
‘It’s just an old thing I found in the library,’ said Napoleon, smiling. ‘Now let’s eat that cake. I’m starving!’
Red Devil Down Page 3
