The Case of the Vanished Sea Dragon Read online

  ‘Hello, Mister Dilly,’ called Mrs Klingerflim on the landing. ‘Is everything all right in there?’

  ‘Fine, Mrs K,’ responded Dirk. ‘Just clumsy old me.’

  ‘Right-oh. Call if you want anything. I’ll be putting the kettle on in a minute.’

  ‘OK,’ said Dirk. ‘Thanks, Mrs K.’

  Dirk dropped on to all fours and approached the desk. He picked up a bottle of orange squash and poured himself a glass.

  ‘Whoever you are you shouldn’t be here,’ he said. ‘You know the punishment for breaching the forbidden divide.’

  Around a thousand years ago at a conference held high in the Himalayas, the dragon world had voted on whether to hide from mankind or to destroy them before they became too strong. Those in favour of fighting rose into the air and became known as up-airers. Minertia, the greatest dragon of all, counted the votes and announced that all dragons would retreat to remote corners of the earth until mankind’s time was past. Attacking a human, being seen by a human or allowing a human to find evidence of dragons were outlawed, punishable by banishment to the Inner Core.

  Ironically, many centuries later, Minertia herself was convicted of breaking her own law and banished.

  ‘You know, there’s very little point hiding when you’ve already been seen,’ said Dirk.

  The Sea Dragon said nothing.

  ‘OK, here’s what I know about you,’ said Dirk. ‘You’re a Sea Dragon; you recently left the sea in a hurry and travelled to London specifically to find me.’

  The desk wobbled and the Sea Dragon’s head appeared.

  ‘How are you knowing this?’ she said. It was a female, with some kind of accent. Dirk wasn’t sure what, maybe Spanish.

  ‘Well, it’s not difficult to see you’re a Sea Dragon. The gills are a dead giveaway. A Sea Dragon’s back hardens with time out of water, but your back is still soft. Usually you would hide out until it hardens, but you didn’t, so you were in a hurry. I can’t believe that your presence under my desk is a coincidence, which means you came specifically looking for me.’ Dirk blew a smoke ring. ‘How did I do?’

  ‘Everything you say is right, but I do not understand how you can live with the humano,’ she said.

  Until recently Dirk could have shrugged this off, saying that Mrs K had no idea he was anything other than an unreliable human tenant with a heavy smoking habit. He pulled out his copy of Dragonlore from behind his wing and placed it on the desk.

  ‘What do you want?’ he snapped.

  The Sea Dragon climbed out from under the desk and cricked her back. ‘I am wanting the help from you.’

  ‘What sort of help?’

  ‘Detective help,’ she replied, ‘like you give the humanos. My name is Alba Longs. My sister, Delfina, has gone vanished. I was supposed to be meeting with her in Spain but she is gone. I am needing you to help finding her.’

  ‘I don’t take cases from dragons,’ replied Dirk. ‘They’re too much trouble and they don’t pay well.’

  ‘I have gold to pay you,’ she said, reaching behind her wing and holding out several lumps of gold.

  Dirk inspected them. ‘Look, that’s great in the dragon world, but I can’t exactly pay the rent in gold, can I?’

  Alba looked confused. ‘I do not know what is this the rent but you must help me. I have no one else to be asking.’

  ‘Do I look like I give a rat’s banjo? You shouldn’t be this close to humans. It’s not safe.’

  ‘But you are living with them and speaking with them and making work with them.’

  Dirk didn’t like how much this Sea Dragon knew about him. ‘I can blend and I’m experienced. If you get spotted, your lost sister will be the least of your problems. If you get seen we’re talking full-scale war.’

  ‘I do not want that but I must find my sister.’

  Alba was prowling around the room, inspecting the strange objects she found on the floor. She picked up an unopened tin of chilli-flavoured baked beans. ‘What is this?’ she asked.

  ‘My dinner,’ replied Dirk tersely.

  ‘Food? I am starving,’ she said, biting into it, sending beans and chilli tomato sauce across the room, splattering the walls and catching Dirk in the eye. Alba chewed and swallowed the tin.

  ‘I very like it,’ she said, burping, ‘but the shell is too crunchy.’

  Dirk wiped the sauce away from his eyes.

  ‘Ooh, what is this?’ she asked, picking up the TV remote control.

  ‘Leave my stuff alone,’ barked Dirk. ‘I’ve told you, I can’t help you find –’

  Dirk’s words were drowned out by the TV, which Alba had managed to turn on. There was a music show on. A group of scruffy-looking teenagers were playing guitars and screaming, ‘We’re louder than a juggernaut / We’re crazy like a fox / We’re playing our guitars / And not wearing any socks.’

  Petrified by the noise, Alba threw the remote control behind her and ran at the TV. Dirk tried to block her but she whacked him in the ear and leapfrogged over him.

  ‘Stop the loudnesses,’ she screamed, knocking the TV off its resting spot. Dirk attempted to catch it but Alba was in his way and he watched helplessly as it fell to the ground. The fall smashed the screen but the speakers were unaffected and the rock band continued to sing.

  ‘We do whatever we want / Beg, steal or borrow / We were rocking all of yesterday / And we’ll carry on tomorrow. Yeah.’

  ‘The loudnesses … Make the loudnesses stop,’ yelled Alba.

  A pounding came on the door.

  ‘Mr Dilly, are you all right?’ It was Mrs Klingerflim.

  ‘Fine, Mrs K. Sorry, it’s my TV,’ he replied.

  ‘Well, it’s quite noisy, dear.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll turn it down,’ replied Dirk.

  ‘Fish still swim, birds still fly, rock’s still rock and I’m still I.’

  Another banging started, this one from the adjacent wall. A voice shouted, ‘Keep the bleeding noise down or I’ll call the bleeding police.’

  BANG BANG.

  ‘Make the loudnesses stop.’

  BANG BANG BANG.

  ‘We don’t care what our parents say / They’re far too old and sad.’

  BANG BANG BANG BANG.

  ‘The loudnesses.’

  ‘We just wanna rock all day / So leave it out, Mum and Dad.’

  BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

  ‘Stop the loudnesses.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, we wanna rock.’

  ‘Oi! You’re disturbing the bleeding peace.’

  ‘Mr Dilly, the neighbours are complaining.’

  BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

  Dirk’s head felt like it was going to cave in, and just when he thought it couldn’t get any louder, the phone started to ring.

  Chapter Four

  Since losing his seat at the election the previous month Holly’s dad had spent most of his days moping about in his pyjamas watching daytime television, so Holly was surprised to return home to find him standing in the hallway, cleanly shaven, wearing a suit, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

  He glanced at her in the usual way, as though identifying who she was before getting back to more important matters, in this case, the straightness of his tie. It was the same way he looked at Willow.

  ‘Hello, erm … Holly,’ he said, undoing the tie and starting again.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

  Dad’s big-haired wife stepped into the hallway from the kitchen, her hair looking even bigger than usual. ‘We have a very important guest coming tonight. I need you on your best behaviour,’ she said, holding a tray of very neatly arranged tiny morsels of food. A small furry white face with a black smudge on its nose followed her out of the kitchen.

  ‘Keep your cat away from my canapés,’ she said accusingly.

  Seeing Holly, Willow purred and rubbed herself against her leg. Holly picked her up.

  ‘What guest?’ she asked.

  ‘Only Brant Buchanan,’ Big Hai
r replied proudly.

  ‘Who’s Brant Buchanan?’ asked Holly.

  ‘Who is Brant Buchanan?’ squawked Big Hair incredulously. ‘Only the seventh richest man in the world, that’s who. They say he makes so much money that if he dropped a thousand pounds on the floor, by the time he picked it up he would have earned it back ten times over. He owns three islands.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of him.’

  ‘His company, Global Sands, employs more people worldwide than the entire population of Belgium.’

  Holly shrugged. ‘What do they do?’

  Big Hair took the tray into the front room and placed it on the coffee table. ‘Look him up on the Internet if you’re so interested. You’ll have to keep yourself out of the way. Tonight could make a big difference. If all goes well your father could get a job out of it.’

  ‘Doing what?’ Holly asked her dad, who was still struggling with his tie.

  ‘Never mind that,’ said his wife. ‘Your father is capable of many things if he puts his mind to it. What are you doing with that, Malcolm? Let me do it.’ She slapped his hands away and tied his tie for him.

  In her room, Holly changed out of her school uniform then switched on her computer, while Willow occupied herself chasing a fly around the room. She typed ‘Global Sands’ into the search engine and found the official website. The company logo came up on the screen. It was a dark blue circle made up of the letters ‘G’ and ‘S’. Then the home page appeared with links to other divisions of the company — GS Automobiles, GS Homes, GS Telecoms, GS Air, GS Records, GS Solutions — each one had the same logo.

  She went back to the search results and found a recent newspaper article with a picture of a silver-haired man next to it.

  Multi-billionaire Brant Buchanan has had another run-in with animal activists, who have accused his company, Global Sands, of engaging in cruel animal experimentation without proper regulation.

  Buchanan, founder of Global Sands, the worldwide corporation with an annual turnover of over £10 billion, dismissed the allegations as ‘ill informed’.

  The animal activists have threatened legal action but they have quite a fight on their hands. Famed for his ruthless business tactics, Buchanan is generally acknowledged to be one of the most powerful men in the world.

  Holly flicked through some of the other articles. There were lots of boring business pieces on Buchanan’s plan to buy a major insurance company, but Holly was more interested in reading about allegations of animal cruelty. She followed links to animal-activist sites speculating on what experiments Global Sands was involved in. It was horrible. She saw pictures of monkeys and rabbits in laboratories, dissected rats and mice. Willow miaowed at Holly’s ankle, and Holly picked her up.

  A motor engine stopped outside the house. She looked through the window and saw an extremely expensive silver car. The driver, dressed entirely in grey, leapt out and opened the back door in one smooth movement. A silver-haired man in a black suit emerged from the car and walked towards Holly’s front door.

  The doorbell rang. She looked back at the pictures on the computer screen. She could hear Big Hair answer the front door and her dad say, ‘Mr Buchanan, it’s such a great pleasure. Please come in.’

  ‘Thank you,’ replied a soft voice. ‘Please call me Brant.’

  Chapter Five

  Downstairs, Big Hair was laughing loudly and saying, ‘Tell me, Brant, do you really own three islands?’

  ‘Four, actually. It sounds impressive but if you could see them, they’re just lumps of rock really.’

  Big Hair laughed loudly. Holly could think of nothing worse than joining them, but the food smells proved too tempting for Willow. She wriggled out of Holly’s arms and ran downstairs.

  ‘Willow,’ whispered Holly. ‘Willow.’

  The cat ignored her, disappearing into the front room.

  ‘Get away, you awful feline,’ squawked Big Hair.

  Holly darted down the stairs, into the room after her. ‘Leave her alone,’ she said.

  Big Hair was shooing Willow away with her foot. Dad was sitting next to her on the sofa. Opposite was Mr Buchanan. Up close, he was older than in the photograph on the website, his hair was more silver, his forehead more lined. And the picture hadn’t done justice to his penetrating grey-green eyes, which descended upon Holly. She felt herself take a step backwards, as though his gaze was too intense to stand so close. She knocked a table behind her. A wine glass fell and smashed on the wooden floor. Willow jumped out of the way of the broken glass.

  ‘I must apologise, Mr Buchanan,’ said Big Hair. ‘The creature isn’t house-trained.’

  Holly didn’t know whether she was referring to Willow or her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, kneeling down to pick up the shards.

  ‘Leave it,’ barked her dad.

  ‘Yes, get away,’ said Big Hair, grabbing her hand, causing the sharp piece of glass that Holly had been carefully holding with her fingertips to slip. The edge was so fine that Holly didn’t feel it cut into her skin, but a red slash appeared across her palm.

  ‘Holly, you’ve cut yourself,’ said her dad, sounding concerned.

  ‘Look what you’ve done now,’ scolded Big Hair.

  Mr Buchanan, who had been watching with an air of detachment, seemed to get interested at the sight of blood. He leant forward. ‘That will take some time to heal,’ he said eagerly.

  The fine red line thickened as blood oozed out. The sight of it made Holly feel faint. The pain was beginning to register.

  ‘Don’t drip on the furniture,’ squawked Big Hair, grabbing a bowl from the sideboard and handing it to Holly. ‘Hold this under it.’

  Holly took the bowl in time to catch the first splash of blood.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ Mr Buchanan asked Holly.

  ‘A little, yes,’ she replied.

  ‘Pain helps us understand our limits. Only by experiencing such extremes can we learn more about ourselves.’

  ‘Is that why you hurt innocent animals?’ said Holly angrily.

  Mr Buchanan smiled and picked up Willow, who was purring by his feet. ‘I believe animals are far more intelligent than we give them credit for,’ he said. ‘See your cat, for instance. She didn’t cut herself on the broken glass.’

  ‘Holly, follow me to the kitchen,’ said Big Hair. ‘Mind you don’t drip on the floor on the way. And apologise to Mr Buchanan.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ said the billionaire. ‘I require a moment alone with your husband anyway.’

  In the kitchen, Big Hair found the first-aid kit and bound Holly’s hand roughly. The cut was bleeding quite a lot and any responsible parent would have rushed her straight to hospital but, for once, Holly was glad of the neglect, knowing that the wound would heal in her sleep. Self-healing skin was another of the dragon powers she had gained from Dirk’s green blood.

  ‘Now, stay out of trouble,’ said Big Hair. ‘This could make a big difference to us.’

  ‘Dad shouldn’t work for a man who hurts animals,’ said Holly stubbornly.

  ‘Your father needs to work,’ she replied.

  Big Hair busied herself in the kitchen. Holly went into the hall. She could hear the low murmuring from the front room. She wondered what they were talking about.

  Still holding Willow in her arms she crept back to the door and, ever so gently, eased it open. She dropped Willow, who trotted into the room.

  Using the door as cover, Holly slid in after her, pushed herself against the wall and vanished from sight, turning exactly the same floral pattern as the wallpaper.

  Dad shut the door and joined Mr Buchanan at the table.

  ‘It’s just the cat,’ he said.

  ‘She’s persistent, I’ll give her that,’ said Mr Buchanan, feeding a mini fishcake to Willow. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Err …’ Her dad thought for a moment. ‘Pillow? Something like that. She’s my daughter’s really. It’s company for her, you know.’

  ‘Children need company,’ re
plied Mr Buchanan, scooping up Willow and carrying her to the door. ‘She’s very strong-willed, isn’t she?’

  ‘The cat?’

  ‘Your daughter.’

  ‘Oh yes. She takes after her mother.’

  Holly concentrated hard on remaining still. She had never heard her dad say this before. As Mr Buchanan opened the door to let Willow out, his eyes flickered to the patch of wall where she was hiding. She closed her eyes. She heard him drop Willow in the hall and shut the door again.

  ‘Anyway, back to the matter in hand,’ said Mr Buchanan.

  Holly opened one eye to see him walk back across the room, but he didn’t sit down. Instead he put his palms outstretched on the table and leant over her father.

  ‘Can you help me, Malcolm?’ he said, fixing him with a firm gaze.

  ‘I’m sorry. I honestly can’t see how I can. I lost my job. The other lot deal with it now.’

  ‘Yes, but we both know how these things work. Little will have changed. They haven’t scrapped the AOG project. All I need is the location.’

  Holly felt her heartbeat quicken. The AOG project was a secret government scheme. AOG stood for Acts of God and referred to weapons designed to create natural disasters. She knew this because she had helped Dirk Dilly stop a rebel group of dragons known as the Kinghorns from using an earthquake creator called the QC3000 from being stolen and used to wipe out half of Europe.

  ‘No one will get hurt?’ asked her dad nervously.

  ‘Not one person,’ replied Mr Buchanan.

  ‘And my future will be secure?’

  ‘Your future at Global Sands will be both secure and bright. Above all we reward loyalty.’

  ‘Can I think about it?’

  Mr Buchanan turned and took a couple of steps towards the door. Holly saw him bite his lip in frustration before putting on a smile and turning around.