‘Hold tight,’ said Dirk, taking half a step back then springing up, flying high over the river. Holly looked over Dirk’s shoulder at the murky Thames water below, reflecting the darkening sky.
They landed on a quadrangular building on the north bank of the river, where they could see the truck following the road towards the centre of London.
Dirk ran across the building, vaulting over a line of statues that looked like they spent a lot of time in the company of pigeons. Across the rooftops he kept up with the truck as it drove through London’s theatre-land, which bustled with energy and life.
‘Why would they be taking a dragon further into London?’ asked Holly.
‘There are lots of questions that need answering. How would Buchanan know where Alba was meeting Karnataka in the first place?’ said Dirk.
The truck went up a one-way road, took a right then turned left towards an underground car park, but stopped suddenly as a black cab that had been trying to overtake on the inside slammed on its brakes and sounded its horn.
Holly looked up to see they were by an ugly skyscraper that towered above its neighbouring buildings. At the top its name was spelt out in capital letters. CENTRE POINT.
The truck driver waved a hand by way of apology and the taxi backed up, allowing the truck to turn.
‘Get ready to blend,’ said Dirk, jumping from a church to a grotty-looking pub, then to the top of the truck, where they vanished from sight.
‘Oh no,’ murmured Dirk. ‘Height restriction.’
A yellow sign in the entrance stated the maximum height allowed into the car park. There was barely enough room for the truck, let alone the extra passengers on top. Holly rolled off Dirk’s back and lay flat as the truck went in and the sign scraped across Dirk’s back.
The truck drove down to the lowest level, where it came to a standstill. The car park had dim lights along the walls and concrete pillars that cast great dark shadows. On the far side was a service lift and stairs leading up. Except for the truck, the entire level was empty.
Holly heard the doors open and two people step out. Neither spoke as they slammed the doors shut and walked to the back of the truck, their footsteps echoing around the concrete walls.
The two men’s features were shrouded in a dark shadow. They turned the door handles and stepped back, opening the doors, moving into the light so that Holly could see their faces.
‘It’s Arthur and Reg,’ she gasped.
Arthur held a dusty, wooden-handled pistol, while Reg wielded a rusty old rifle. Holly remembered the war veteran across the road from Mrs Klingerflim. They must have stolen them from him. The weapons certainly looked like they belonged in a museum.
Something was stirring inside the truck. The long head of a dragon appeared beneath them, a thin line of smoke from its nostrils drifting up, making Holly’s nose itch. She stifled the sneeze. The dragon stepped into the light.
‘Alba,’ Holly heard Dirk breathe.
‘You must do what we say,’ said Arthur, pointing the pistol at the Sea Dragon.
Alba glanced back into the van, then looked at Reg and said, ‘I am not wanting any trouble.’
‘No one need get hurt,’ said Reg, waving his rifle at her.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Holly softly into Dirk’s ear.
Dirk motioned to stay quiet and they watched the two armed crooks escort the petrified Sea Dragon across the car park into the lift. The lift doors shut.
‘I’m going after them,’ said Dirk. ‘You should stay here. This could prove dangerous.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ insisted Holly, climbing on to his back.
‘There’s no time to argue,’ said Dirk.
‘Exactly. Go,’ she urged.
Dirk sprang from the roof of the truck and flew across the car park to the lift. He extended two claws, jammed them into the gap between the doors, and strained as he pulled them wide open to reveal the empty shaft. His whole body shook with the effort of holding them open. He pushed himself and Holly inside and they shut again. It was dark inside the shaft and filled with the sound of the lift rapidly ascending.
‘Hold tight,’ said Dirk. The shaft wasn’t quite wide enough to spread his wings and fly up, so he half-flew, half-scampered, using the ladder that ran up the side to propel himself faster. Holly held on as tightly as she could, locking her fingers together around his neck. They were gaining on the moving lift but she was being thrown about by Dirk, her legs flailing like a rag doll.
‘Don’t lose me,’ she yelled desperately.
‘I won’t,’ shouted Dirk above the squeaks of the lift. He tried to use his tail to secure her to his back, but lost his rhythm and collided with a wall just as Holly’s left leg was outstretched. There was a CRUNCH and Holly yelped in pain.
‘Hang on,’ said Dirk, flapping one wing, giving him enough of a boost to grab on to the bottom of the lift, which was still hurtling upwards. He spun round, bringing himself face to face with Holly, so he was hanging upside down with her lying on his soft green underbelly.
‘How are you doing, kiddo?’ he asked.
Holly tried to smile but the pain she was feeling turned the smile into a grimace. The lift jolted violently as it reached the top of the shaft. Above them they heard footsteps as Alba Longs, Arthur Holt and Reginald Norman walked out.
Dirk jammed his claws into the underside of the lift, cutting straight through the base. He pulled his claw free and punched it until it bent back, making a hole big enough to climb through, then hauled them both inside.
Dirk placed Holly on the floor as gently as possible. Her jeans were stained with sticky red blood. Holly winced in pain as he examined her leg.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.
‘Will it heal with sleep?’ she asked, sucking her teeth.
‘Not this time, Hol,’ he replied. ‘The bone’s broken.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Where are we?’ asked Holly.
‘We must be at the top of Centre Point,’ said Dirk. ‘We need to get you to a hospital.’
‘There’s no time,’ she replied. ‘You’ve got to help Alba.’
Dirk knew she was right. Broken leg or no broken leg, two human crooks had a dragon held at gunpoint.
‘Don’t go anywhere,’ he said.
‘Like I’ve got any choice,’ replied Holly, a spasm of pain crossing her face.
‘Stay out of sight. I won’t be long,’ said Dirk, pressing the button to open the doors and stepping out, leaving Holly alone in the lift.
She looked at her leg. It was the same one that Vainclaw Grandin, the leader of the Kinghorns, had slashed in Little Hope. She wondered how she was going to explain a broken leg to her dad and his wife without admitting to leaving her room. Perhaps they had already discovered that she wasn’t there and called the police.
She looked around for something to distract her from the pain. Above her was a row of buttons, each with the company name next to the relevant floor. She twisted herself around to get a better look, lifting herself on her hands, trying to avoid putting any weight on the broken leg. At the top she could see the white GS in block capitals on a red background, just like the one on the truck. Below it was the full company name in small writing. She strained to read it, but it was a difficult angle. She remembered how on the Global Sands website every division of the company used the same logo of a dark blue GS, with the curve of the letters forming a circle. It seemed strange that here in the lift and on the truck were the only times she had seen it written differently.
She pushed herself up the wall, bashing her leg and sending another shot of pain searing through her body. She tried again, this time raising herself high enough to read the tiny writing. She gasped. It didn’t say Global Sands. The company name was Gronkong Shinard.
She had heard the name somewhere before. She couldn’t quite place where. She felt the lift move and lost her footing, sliding down, knocking her leg. The pain was unbearable and she narrowly av
oided slipping through the hole in the floor. She felt the lift judder. It was going down. She tried to reach a button to stop it, but she couldn’t move her leg at all now.
Dirk stepped out of the lift on to the roof of Centre Point, high above the surrounding buildings of central London. The sounds of bus brakes, car stereos, taxi cabs, and hot-dog sellers drifted up from the streets. Alba Longs stood on her hind legs with her back to him. The two crooks were on either side of her, holding their guns in one hand and a large net in the other. Neither of them looked at Dirk.
‘I am not sure I can do it,’ said Alba.
‘You must do what we say,’ said Arthur.
‘No one need get hurt,’ added Reg.
‘Are these two gentlemen bothering you, Alba?’ asked Dirk casually.
The two men turned to look at him and Alba spun around. She was holding the flask that Shute Hobcraft had given her.
‘Mr Dirk,’ she exclaimed. ‘You have to go away. They will kill my sister.’
Arthur and Reg levelled their guns at Dirk’s head.
‘You must do what we say,’ said Arthur.
‘No one need get hurt,’ said Reg.
‘Change the record,’ replied Dirk, springing into action, jumping up, twisting round, spinning horizontally through the air towards the unwitting crooks, using his tail to knock Arthur’s gun out of his hands and grabbing Reg’s rifle by the barrel, disarming both men. He yanked the net from their hands and threw it over their heads, bagging both of them. Dirk lifted the net to look at the two crooks, squashed together inside.
‘You must do what we say,’ said Arthur.
‘No one need get hurt,’ said Reg.
He recognised the look in their eyes instantly. It was the same look he had seen in the eyes of the Prime Minister in Little Hope Village Hall. It was the same look he had seen in his mother’s eyes, when he had found her dead body many years ago. They were under the spell of Dragonsong. He felt a surge of fury.
‘Oh, Mr Dirk. What have you done? Now they will kill Delfina.’
‘What are you talking about? Karnataka has Delfina locked up. I know you’ve been lying to me.’
‘You are right,’ said Alba, averting her eyes. ‘I have been a liar to you but not now. Delfina is no longer in the prison.’
‘Where is she, then?’ demanded Dirk.
Behind him he heard the ting! of the lift door opening. He turned around to see smoke billowing out like it had caught on fire.
‘Holly,’ he said, putting the net down and jumping forward, but, before he got too close, he saw something shift inside the smoke. From within the lift emerged a Mountain Dragon, like Dirk, but larger, leaner and darker, and with grey smoke pouring uncontrollably from its nose. The Mountain Dragon’s predatory eyes fell on Dirk and its mouth curled into a sinister smile.
‘Vainclaw Grandin,’ snarled Dirk.
‘Dirk Dilly, the dragon detective,’ replied the deep baritone voice.
‘Whatever you’re planning, it’s over. I’ve got your henchmen bagged.’
‘Henchmen, yes … Not my hench dragons, though,’ replied Vainclaw.
Behind him from the lift emerged Leon, the eldest of the two yellow-backed Scavenger brothers who worked for Vainclaw. He was holding a Sea Dragon, a claw jammed threateningly into her jaw.
‘Delfina,’ said Alba desperately. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Don’t let them hurt me, Alba,’ whimpered her sister. She looked terrified.
‘Keep quiet, hard-back,’ growled Leon.
A second Scavenger climbed up through the hole Dirk had made in the lift and picked up what looked like a blood-stained bundle of clothes. As he stepped out on to the roof, Dirk could see that he was holding Holly, the blood from her leg smeared across his belly.
‘Ar-right, Mr Detective,’ he said. ‘I’ve got your little friend here.’
‘I’m sorry, Dirk,’ she said.
‘If you hurt her I’ll roast your heart out, Scavenger,’ replied Dirk.
‘You want me to chuck her over so we can have a fair fight?’ replied Mali, waving Holly over the edge of the building.
‘Not yet, ar kid,’ snapped his brother.
‘You never let me have any fun, bro,’ replied Mali.
‘Cease your bickering,’ said Vainclaw. ‘We have work to do.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘Now, Mr Dilly, we are thirty-five floors above a hard concrete pavement,’ said the deep voice of Vainclaw Grandin, ‘so you will do everything I say otherwise my Scavenger will let go of the girl.’
‘Yeah, I’ll give her a free flying lesson,’ said Mali, leaning forward and forcing Holly to see how high up she was.
‘There will be no tricks,’ said Vainclaw. ‘Is that clear?’
‘As crystal,’ said Dirk, through gritted teeth.
‘I’m sorry, Dirk,’ said Holly. ‘I realised just after you’d gone. GS doesn’t stand for Global Sands …’
‘Eh, who rattled your cage?’ said Mali, shaking Holly so that her bad leg flew about, causing her to cry out. Tears streamed down her face.
‘GS stands for Gronkong Shinard.’ Vainclaw finished her sentence.
Dirk knew the name. When he first discovered Kinghorns in London they had been hiding in a warehouse that was registered to a Gronkong Shinard.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Rearrange the letters to find our true identity.’
It only took Dirk a moment to come up with the answer. ‘Kinghorn Dragons,’ he muttered. ‘But why would the Kinghorns have a company in the human world?’
‘How naive you are,’ said Vainclaw, pulling the net off Arthur and Reg and checking that they were still under the Dragonsong spell. ‘Gronkong Shinard has been operating for a long, long time. Gronkong Shinard built this tower.’
‘This is a modern building,’ said Dirk. ‘It was built by men.’
‘The outside is modern, yes,’ said Vainclaw, ‘but the men constructed it around a central stone spine which dates back to a time when dragons used to help humans build their monuments in return for gold. The pyramids, Stonehenge, the Aztec temples, the Great Wall of China, all built with the help of gold-greedy dragons. But with this tower, Gronkong Shinard retained the rights to the top floor and roof. At the base of the foundations is an entrance that allows us to come and go as we please. So you see our headquarters are in the heart of the human civilisation that we will soon destroy.’
Arthur and Reg picked up the old weapons and turned them on Alba.
‘You know what to do, Alba Longs,’ said Vainclaw.
‘Please, no. I have told you how to be summoning a Sky Dragon. Why can you not let me go now and summon one for yourself?’
‘Because no Sky Dragon will trust the dragon who summons it,’ replied Vainclaw. ‘It will believe that my Kinghorns and I have come to its rescue.’
‘You really think you can convince the Skies to join you with a cheap trick like that?’ said Dirk.
‘Please don’t make me do it,’ begged Alba.
Vainclaw smiled. ‘It’s your lucky day, Alba Longs, it seems we have another candidate. Humans, aim your weapons at this dragon,’ he urged, pointing at Dirk.
The two crooks altered their aim accordingly.
‘As luck would have it a herd of Sky Dragons is passing over London at this moment,’ continued Vainclaw. ‘We only need one of them. I understand that the suggested method is to spit the liquid fire into the heart, Mr Dilly.’
Dirk glanced at Mali holding Holly over the edge of the building.
‘Don’t do it, Dirk,’ she cried.
‘You wouldn’t want me to drop her, would you?’ said the yellow-backed Scavenger, letting her slide a little.
‘All right,’ said Dirk. He took the flask from Alba and flipped the top open. Inside, the scorching liquid was sizzling and hissing like it was alive. The tiny sip he had taken at the Outer Core had been painful enough. In order to reach a Sky Dragon he would have to take a bi
g gulp. It wasn’t going to be fun.
‘In your own time, detective,’ said Vainclaw.
Dirk considered his options. If it hadn’t been for Holly he could have used the liquid fire as a weapon, but he could tell that Mali was waiting for an excuse to drop her and he had no doubt that Vainclaw would happily give the order. He had no choice but to do as Vainclaw said.
He looked up at the overcast sky. Even though it was night, the light pollution in the city meant that the London sky never went fully dark. He stared up at the clouds, trying to distinguish a shape amongst them. It brought back a long-forgotten memory of being a very young dragon lying on a mountainside with his mother, looking up at the sky, trying to spot sublimated Sky Dragons.
‘Hurry up,’ growled Vainclaw.
‘You must do what we say,’ said Arthur.
‘No one need get hurt,’ said Reg.
A cloud drifted past, lower and faster moving than the others. Dirk raised his head, trying to make out a dragon shape. He thought he could see a head and two wings.
‘Bottoms up,’ he said, shutting his eyes in anticipation of the pain before taking a large swig from the flask, holding the liquid fire in the back of his throat and tipping his head back.
The pain tore through his body, scorching his insides. He screamed in agony and spat out the liquid fire. It shot up into the sky like a burning arrow but he had misjudged how quickly the dragon-shaped cloud was moving. It missed. The jet of liquid fire lingered for a moment in the sky before vanishing into nothing. Dirk collapsed to his knees.
‘Try again,’ said Vainclaw patiently.
‘Water,’ uttered Dirk, his throat feeling like a desert. He could have devoured an iceberg like it was a lollipop. The last thing he wanted to do was take another swig of the burning liquid, but he focused on Holly being held over the edge of the building. He thought he could hear her saying something but the sounds around him were blending into one.
‘Hurry up, detective,’ said Vainclaw’s deep voice.
Dirk struggled back to his feet. He looked up again. Another low cloud was coming. Again he picked out the outline of a dragon. He lifted the flask to his lips and poured. The agony was excruciating. His vision was blurred but he steadied himself, took aim and spat the fire high into the sky.
The Case of the Vanished Sea Dragon Page 11