Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  "There's something you need to understand. Gee Tee won't reveal his true age to anyone, but it's thought that he's over six hundred years old."

  Peter nearly dropped the mug that Tank had just handed to him.

  "Over six hundred years old! I think someone's been pulling your leg. No dragon can live that long."

  Tank just stood with a sombre expression.

  "Just between us, it's true Peter. He is over six centuries old. He's also very frail and gets tired incredibly quickly. When I told you the other day that I wouldn't lose my job, it wasn't only because of the work that I do here. It's because I help look after him as well. The doctor visits once a week and he's on all sorts of medication. He may act all tough and arrogant, but he's really not like that at all. He shouldn't be wearing himself out performing crazy protective mantras when they're not required."

  "I didn't make him do it... honest Tank," Peter pleaded.

  "I'm sure you didn't Pete. But it makes no difference. By spinning him your tale, he thinks he can help you and turn things around. He's not willing to admit to himself just how unwell and fragile he really is."

  Peter glugged down a huge mouthful of the eye wateringly hot drink, before looking up at his friend.

  "I'm sorry Tank. I had no idea."

  "I know you didn't. Hardly anyone does. All I'm asking is that you try not to get him too excited and involved in stuff. I know how his twisted mind works. Conspiracies and underhanded schemes all too often feature. He claims to have thwarted many in the past, some singlehandedly, others by just providing his valuable knowledge. Whether it’s true or not, I don't really know. All I do know is that he's attracted by the idea, something I believe will do him no good at all in his current state. By all means talk to him and pick his brain, but try not to wear him out, and quit if he starts to look too tired."

  "Sure thing," Peter agreed as the two friends headed back across the shop floor with their hot drinks. Tank smiled at his friend.

  "So a protection mantra, eh? Just one more thing you should be aware of Pete. Gee Tee is probably the world's foremost expert on everything and anything to do with mantras. Those in this shop are unlike any others found on this planet. Some of them date back thousands of years and he is the only one that can make head or tail of them. That said, even the great dragon himself can make mistakes from time to time, especially when he's tired and hasn't taken his medication."

  "What are you saying?" asked Peter anxiously.

  Tank smiled in a way that made Peter feel very nervous.

  "Be thankful that you didn't end up in the body of a spider."

  Most of the time Peter could tell when his friend was being serious or whether he was joking, but at this exact moment, he really didn't have a clue. Returning to the workshop, they found that Gee Tee had recovered from his exertions and was gathering up everything he'd previously strewn across the floor. The three of them each took a chair and sat sipping their drinks in comparative silence. That is, until the old shopkeeper piped up.

  "I knew there was a reason I continue to employ you," he said smiling and licking his great big jaw. "In all my years I've never come across anyone that can make steaming hot charcoal like you can."

  Tank's moody expression seemed to soften just slightly, particularly when his employer let out a resounding 'BURRRRRRRP'.

  Looking directly at Tank, Gee Tee pushed his glasses as far up his nose as he could, and said,

  "I know you only have my best interests at heart apprentice, something I really do appreciate, and show far less frequently than I should. But I'm not quite as frail or infirm as you would believe.”

  Tank's softened expression turned back to one of moodiness, and Peter could see that his friend was just about to lecture the old dragon again, when the shopkeeper held up his wing to stop his young apprentice.

  "I've lived for a very long time and have a great many experiences to call upon, all of which currently tell me two things. One is that your friend, Peter, has got himself tangled up in something very unusual indeed and needs OUR help. And two, despite my vast years, I'm still a very long way off joining the great river of lava."

  At this last comment, Tank broke into a real smile, the first time Peter had seen him do so today.

  "So," continued Gee Tee, "we will continue our research here and try to find a mantra that will totally neutralise what we believe to be poison in Mark's house on the surface. While you, young Peter, must practice caution. If indeed Manson is not as he appears to be, then he could potentially be very dangerous. If I were you, I would continue to gather more information and avoid any unnecessary confrontation with him."

  Peter nodded his agreement and left the Mantra Emporium feeling genuinely happy for the first time in as long as he could remember. He would continue to watch Manson and with the help of his friends, old and new, he was sure he could thwart whatever evil the crafty Major had in mind.

  9 Here Today, Gun Tomorrow

  On arriving at work the following day, the first thing Peter did was to email Richie, to ask if she would meet him for lunch in the staff restaurant. She replied almost instantaneously, agreeing to meet, much to his relief. He spent the rest of the morning doing staff appraisals in his office, whilst worrying about what he was going to say to his friend at lunch. Occasionally he would check the security monitors to see if he could pick up any sign of the elusive Manson, but the smug ex-officer remained absent all morning, despite the fact that his car was parked in its normal spot.

  At five to twelve, Peter logged off his computer and took off through the building towards the restaurant. Normally preferring to bring in sandwiches for lunch, not because of the cost (as the restaurant was heavily subsidised) but mainly so that he could eat his lunch and work at the same time.

  Rounding the corner, he caught sight of Richie standing outside the restaurant entrance, people pouring in on either side of her. Noticing his approach, she flashed him one of her classic grins. It was then that he knew everything was going to be okay. Greeting each other with a hug, unusually Peter gave Richie a kiss on the cheek, which managed to pleasantly surprise her, something she commented on as the pair of them took a tray each from the pile and joined the end of the queue. Shuffling forward as one, the two friends eyed up the menu for today.

  Richie opted for lasagne, while Peter thought he would make the most of not having to cook a hot meal today and went for the roast of the day, which turned out to be his favourite, roast beef. Both added a soft drink to their tray, and, upon reaching the checkout, Peter offered to pay for both his and Richie's meals, thinking it might go some way to make amends for falling out. Richie didn't put up a fight, which Peter thought strange, right up until a very pleasant lady on the till announced that the grand total for the two meals was a hefty £3.45. Blushing upon realising his mistake, he quickly made his way to one of the few remaining free tables, with Richie following. As they both sat, Peter said,

  "I didn't really think that through did I?"

  Spooning a large chunk of lasagne into her mouth, Richie smiled and waited until she'd finished her mouthful.

  "What a friend. Treating me to a slap up meal at one of the best restaurants in town," she said sarcastically.

  "How about I promise to take you out somewhere really nice? You choose. Whenever you're next free in the evening," Peter said, taking a huge bite of his wall clock sized Yorkshire pudding.

  "You don't have to do that Pete."

  "I know I don't have to. But I really want to, to... make up for the way I acted," he pleaded awkwardly.

  "A meal with my best friend would always be welcome. Anyway, we were both at fault for what happened. Let's just put it behind us and move on. Our behaviour is always put to shame by Tank. Good job we've got him to look after us and show us our flaws."

  Peter nodded his agreement, as a huge slab of roast beef lathered in gravy slipped between his teeth.

  "Yeah, he does always seem to know what to say. I bet his pet plants
don't give him nearly as much trouble as we do, though."

  Richie laughed and replied,

  "They know not to give him any trouble, because if they do he'll just spend more time talking to them, and they can't run away. He puts Prince Charles to shame on that front."

  "That sounds about right," agreed Peter, mopping up the last of the gravy on his plate with his Yorkshire.

  Unexpectedly a figured loomed over their table.

  "Sorry to disturb you Mr Bentwhistle, but could I have a quick word?"

  Peter looked up into the face of one of the scientists from the industrial area, and try as he might, he just couldn't remember the man's name.

  "Of course you can, um..."

  "It's Jake. Jake Brown," said the scientist.

  "Sorry Jake. What can I do for you?" Peter replied, wearing his best smile.

  "Well it's uhhh... the new guards. We're all finding it quite hard to concentrate with... you know."

  Looking as puzzled as ever, Peter replied,

  "You're going to have to be a little more specific, Jake, I'm afraid."

  "The new guards and their... equipment. It's making everybody over in industrial very... nervous, you might say," Jake said, looking up at the ceiling.

  "I'm really sorry Jake, but I don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about. What exactly is making everyone so nervous?"

  The scientist leaned in close and looked around to make sure nobody was listening in.

  "The guards, they've all got... well, see for yourself," observed Jake, standing up and pointing in the direction of the restaurant's entrance.

  All around the restaurant heads turned and conversations suddenly dried up, as everybody started to notice the pair of guards that stood at the back of the queue. Dressed from head to toe in a light blue uniform, the guards certainly stood out from the mixture of smart casual that most of the other employees wore. That, however, was not the main talking point. Strapped around each of the guards’ waists was a shiny black belt that held a holster on one side. Poking out from the holster, the dark metallic grip of a gun was just visible. As if to make matters worse, dangling from the back of each belt was a serious looking baton, a handheld radio, and a silver pair of handcuffs. Peter was visibly taken aback, along with half the restaurant by the look of things.

  "What the hell...?" he muttered to nobody in particular. Shaking his head and giving Richie a kind of 'I told you so' look, he got up, mumbling,

  "This just can't be happening..."

  With the restaurant reaching perhaps its busiest time, nearly two hundred employees watched, fascinated, by what Peter's next action would be. Taking a deep breath, he made his way through the mass of tables, winding like a snake as he headed for the two guards towards the end of the line, all eyes watching him like a reality TV freak show. Eventually reaching the guards, his mood had darkened no end by now, which was highlighted by the scowl on his normally friendly face. Peter leaned in close and whispered,

  "Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?"

  "Step back please, sir," commanded the taller of the two guards.

  Feeling unbelievably lonely and realising that not a single sound could now be heard in the entire restaurant, Peter began to get just a little hot under the collar. The situation rested on a knife edge and was rapidly becoming as tense as walking into the shower and catching your granny in nothing but her beard.

  Poking his finger into the guard's chest, Peter fumed,

  "Listen sonny, don't you know who I am?" for all to hear.

  The other guard began to fumble with the cover of his holster nervously, not sure quite what to do with the furious man close to abusing his partner. Peter spotted the second guard's hand straying towards his gun and something inside him snapped. Feeling like a volcano about to erupt, he sought to convert all of his built up rage into dragon power and knock the two idiots fully across the room. The guards looked panic stricken and confused as Peter finally seemed like he was about to lose the plot.

  Out of nowhere, a slender, freckled arm weaved its way around Peter's waist and pulled him gently away from the guards and towards the exit.

  "You'll have to excuse my friend," prompted Richie, leaning away from Peter towards the two guards. "I think some of his roast beef went down the wrong way, and with him not having taken his medication today, he can sometimes get a little... cranky. He's a little... SPECIAL," she said, giving them a wink and a smile, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, as she whisked Peter out through the double doors and into the corridor. Her vice-like grip didn't diminish even though they were now out of the restaurant. Maintaining her hold, she guided Peter subtly along until they reached an innocuous looking glass door, leading out to a very small, secluded courtyard, right in the middle of the building. About half the size of a tennis court, the space was awash with many varieties of ferns and other large plants, which all provided shade and a certain degree of privacy. A small rectangular pond, packed to the brim with koi carp of every different colour stood, raised above the ground, in one corner, camouflaged by the giant green plants that towered above it.

  Richie led Peter out into the courtyard, steering him through the fern leaves, round a raised flower bed and onto a small wooden bench that looked as though it could do with a fresh coat of varnish. Looking up, Peter could just make out a couple of white fluffy clouds through the tangled mess of leaves and branches. It took a few seconds for it to dawn on him, but then he realised he was right, smack bang in the middle of the office complex. Looking more than a little perplexed, he also realised that he previously had no idea this place even existed. Richie, having taken a seat on the bench, looked at him in a very peculiar manner.

  "This is a turn up for the books," she scoffed, a big smile blossoming onto her face. "ME, having to take you away before you do something you'll regret for a very long time to come."

  The surprise at having found this place, coupled with the relaxing sound of the tiny movements of water in the pond, drained Peter of all his pent up aggression and anger. As quickly as his rage had appeared, it was now nowhere to be seen, and the normally quiet and reserved, awkward youth was back to his shy self.

  Rolling his eyes and pointing discreetly with his finger in an upwards direction, he said,

  "Uh... Rich, we're surrounded by three storeys of windows on all sides. I'm sure everyone at their desks doesn't want to listen to our conversation."

  Richie just sat there and smiled at him.

  "Not only are all the windows double glazed, but none of them actually open up. We're perfectly secluded here. I can't believe you didn't know about this place. Some security co-ordinator you are," she mocked.

  He looked up at all the windows looming over the courtyard, trying to confirm what his friend had just said.

  "Of course I knew about this place."

  "Oh please, don't try and hide it from me. I could feel your shock the moment I opened the door to come out here. You had absolutely no idea it even existed, did you?"

  Peter just nodded his head. He knew it was impossible to hide anything from his friend.

  "I can't believe it. It's like a little oasis of calm tucked away where no one can find it.”

  "So anyway, back to what happened in the restaurant," challenged Richie, knocking Peter out of his daydream.

  "Yeah... sorry about that," he replied, not able to look his friend in the eye. "And thanks for pulling me out of there before I lost my temper and did something really stupid."

  Richie shook her head and laughed.

  "I just kept looking at your aura with my dragon abilities," she whispered. "It looked like you were going to explode at one point. I thought it best to get you out of there... although I have to admit a big part of me was desperate to see the dashing Peter Bentwhistle, head of Cropptech security, in handcuffs," she confessed, a big toothy grin on her face.

  "Wasn't gonna happen, trust me."

  Winking, Richie said,

  "You
should give it go. You don't know what you're missing."

  Shaking his head and starting to blush, Peter replied,

  "You know my feelings about that Rich. One day, you're going to get into so much trouble with your... your... human dalliances."

  "Not gonna happen, trust me," Richie said, imitating her friend. "Seriously though, Pete, what happened? I've never seen you lose your temper at all. Yet if I'm not mistaken, you were ready to finish those guards off."

  Sitting on the old bench, head in his hands, he let out a long breath, before looking up at the huge fern leaf that was currently providing him with shade. Watching intently as a brightly coloured ladybird crawled across the leaf's arched centre, his emotions barely in check as his mind struggled to answer Richie's question.

  "It just seemed like the straw that broke the camel's back. Head of security? My arse! Oh I might sign off the timesheets and do the appraisals, but obviously I'm no longer in charge here."

  Richie sat and listened, fully aware that her lunch hour had long since passed, but not really caring very much.

  Riveted by the ladybird's delicate actions, he watched as it unfolded its precise, flimsy looking wings, seeming as though it was about to take flight.

  "Guns, armed guards... What the hell is this place coming to? The security provisions that were already in place were more than adequate for the site we have here. In its entire history, Cropptech has never been the victim of a major theft or incident of any kind."

  In the meantime, the ladybird had decided not to fly away, instead just fluttering its wings for no apparent reason.

  "I know you might have disagreed with me before about Manson's motives Rich, but can you not see now what's going on? Something here is very, very wrong. I just can't seem to work out exactly what it is, and it's driving me crazy. It's as if, as if... the answer is right in front of my face, but for the life of me I just can't seem to see it. It's so frustrating."

  Richie studied her friend, while he in turn continued to study the ladybird. They had been friends for such a long time, and she had never seen him so... out of sorts. Not wanting to upset him and fall out again, she considered her words carefully.