Night on Terror Island (6 page)

Mr Lazarus looked at him.

‘Kip, you seem like a nice enough boy,’ he said. ‘But I have to say, you ask far too many questions.’

‘Sorry,’ said Kip. ‘I’m just interested, that’s all.’

Mr Lazarus switched on the projector. Then he slid the platform smoothly forward along the rails. Kip saw that there was something else new. A small mirror had been attached to the side of the projector. This reflected the beam of light into the prism, which, in turn, projected another beam down onto the round platform. Mr Lazarus looked pleased.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘Everything is ready.’

‘For what?’ asked Kip, baffled.

‘The Lazarus Enigma is activated.’

‘Oh yeah? That’s great.’ Kip frowned. ‘But …’

‘Yes?’ asked Mr Lazarus.

‘You haven’t told me what it does. I mean, you said it enhances film. But you also said it does many things. What are some of the other things it does?’

Mr Lazarus sighed. He studied Kip thoughtfully for a moment.

‘Supposing I just show you?’ he asked. ‘How would that suit you?’

Kip shrugged.

‘That would be OK, I guess,’ he said.

‘Very well. I was going to wait for a better time, but you’re here and you’re clearly interested, so …’ Mr Lazarus clapped his gloved hands together. He got to his feet and walked over to the projector. ‘Come over here,’ he said.

Kip got to his feet and did as he was told. The old man indicated the wooden platform.

‘Stand there,’ he said.

Kip lifted his feet to climb onto the platform.

‘Like this?’ he asked.

‘Perfect.’

‘Well, what now?’

‘Just a moment. There are a few things we have to do first.’ Mr Lazarus reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out an odd-looking oval object hung on a length of chain. It seemed to be made of Perspex and had a round metal cover on the front of it. Kip could see that something beneath the cover was pulsing slowly on and off with a dull red glow that illuminated the Perspex. Mr Lazarus reached out and hung the object around Kip’s neck.

‘What’s this for?’ asked Kip curiously, lifting it in his fingers to get a better look.

‘Don’t touch that,’ snapped Mr Lazarus. ‘That’s not a toy, Kip; it’s the Lazarus Retriever.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Kip. He let the thing drop to the end of its chain. ‘What’s that then?’

‘Never mind,’ said Mr Lazarus. ‘You might want to slip it beneath your T-shirt. You don’t want to lose that.’

‘No,’ agreed Kip, bewildered, but he did as he was told.

‘Now,’ said Mr Lazarus, ‘there’s just one other thing …’ He had turned away and was rooting amongst a jumble of rubbish on a worktop. After a few moments, he turned back, carrying what looked like a leather holster. ‘Strap this around your waist,’ he told Kip, handing it to him.

Kip buckled it around his skinny hips feeling rather like a cowboy donning a set of pistols, but this holster held only a brick-shaped gadget made of what looked like black Bakelite. It was studded with knobs and dials and switches.

‘And this?’ asked Kip, securing the buckle.

‘The Lazarus Communicator,’ said Mr Lazarus, wearily. ‘Goodness, you ask a lot of questions!’

‘I’m sorry,’ muttered Kip. ‘I was only wondering.’

‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ said Mr Lazarus. ‘I’ll contact you when you’re there and explain
everything
.’

Kip scratched his head.

‘When I’m
where
?’ he asked.

‘In the film,’ said Mr Lazarus. ‘Now. Are you ready?’

But Kip was staring at him, completely baffled.

‘In the film?’ he echoed. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘You will,’ Mr Lazarus assured him. With one hand, he set the projector running; and with the other, he placed a hand against Kip’s back and pushed him hard. The platform slid forward on its oiled wheels, straight into the light. Kip experienced a sudden wave of panic, rising within him.

‘Wait a minute,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure I—’

But then a bright light was blazing into his face and almost instantly he felt a weird change coming over him. It was as though his arms, his legs, his body, were all … dissolving. He seemed to be falling and he couldn’t even reach out his arms to grab at something as he went down into a great blazing pit of brilliant white light.

KIP’S FEET THUDDED
against a hard surface. He felt like he was going to fall and had to fling out his arms in order to regain his balance. Then everything swam back into focus. He stood there, staring in complete astonishment at his surroundings, trying to understand what had just happened. But he couldn’t really take it in. This was nuts.

He was standing on a street in the middle of a big city – but it wasn’t a city in the modern day and it wasn’t even the UK. It was a city he had seen recently. In
Public Enemy Number One
.

Now it came to him, pretty much the last thing that Mr Lazarus had said before pushing him into the light. ‘I’ll contact you when you’re there and explain
everything
.’ Kip stared around open-mouthed.

He could feel a sense of panic rising within him. He was in the film. He was really in the film!

The blare of a car horn almost made him jump out of his skin and he scuttled to one side, allowing a black Ford to rumble past him. He could see the driver staring at him through his side window, his mouth open as though he was looking at a spaceman.
Kip
realised that his red T-shirt, jeans and Converse trainers must look strangely out of place here.

He looked around again. He couldn’t stop himself. Everything was here in perfect detail – the cars, the people, the buildings. Glancing upwards, he saw a couple of dowdy pigeons flapping overhead. He had to take a deep breath and hold it for a moment, because he felt as though he was going to panic.

Then the phone-like thing on his hip started beeping loudly. He looked down at it in dull surprise and pulled it from its holster. A green button was flashing, so he pressed that and lifted the device to his ear.

‘Well, Kip,’ said Mr Lazarus’s voice, compressed to a tiny insect-like buzz in Kip’s ear. ‘What do you think?’

‘I … think … I must have … I can’t … this can’t be happening!’

‘Oh, but it is, Kip. Look around you. It’s all there in perfect detail.’

‘But … it looks … real.’

‘It
is
real. When you go into a film it becomes real. You mustn’t forget that.’

‘How do you mean,
real
?’

‘I mean that Russell Raven is no longer an actor. He is John Dillinger, public enemy number one. His gang is real, his bullets are real. Get hit by one of those bullets and you could be killed.’

Kip actually pulled the brick-shaped gadget away from his ear and stared at it for a moment. Then he lifted it back.

‘But that doesn’t make sense. Russell Raven makes other films, so—’

‘Yes, but he’s not
physically
there. How can I explain it to you? He’s left a kind of … ghost of himself trapped in the celluloid, his real self is off somewhere making new movies. But it’s different for you, Kip. You’re actually in this copy of the film, and you must be very careful. Listen to me. If it gets to the closing credits and you’re still there, the film will claim you as its own. You’ll be trapped there for ever.’

Kip allowed himself a brief smile.

‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘I’m deadly serious. I would never joke about a thing like that.’

‘Then you’ve got to get me out of here!’ protested Kip. ‘Right now. I’ve … got things to do in the real world. I … I have a homework assignment I’m supposed to complete over the holidays!’

Mr Lazarus laughed. ‘Relax, Kip,’ he said. ‘Of course I’m going to get you out of there. But first, there’s something I want you to do for me.’

‘But—’

‘Just do as I say. Firstly, I want you to turn round and start walking along the street. Keep the line of parked cars to your right. You have an appointment
with
Mr Dillinger in a very short time and I don’t want you to miss it. Now hurry up, there isn’t time to waste.’

Kip turned and began to walk along the street. His mind was racing and he kept the Communicator clamped to his ear.

‘How … how does it work?’ he asked. ‘The Enigma, I mean.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘What do you mean, you don’t …?’ Kip was interrupted by the roar of an engine and the shrieking of tyres. Looking over his shoulder in alarm, he could see that a group of black cars had just skidded to a halt a few yards behind him. Men were spilling out of them, tough-looking men, all of them carrying Tommy guns. They were advancing towards him, staring along the street as they came. Now Kip turned to follow their gaze, just in time to see a line of police cars pulling to a halt several hundred yards further up the road.

With a sinking feeling, he recalled the scene into which he had just wandered – a furious shoot-out between Dillinger’s gang and the cops. Kip remembered that the police had set up blocks on all the roads south of the town – behind the gang. The only possibility of escape lay to the north, from where another group of armed cops were advancing. Kip was now trapped between Dillinger’s gang and the police.

‘Oh great,’ he said.

‘Kip?’ buzzed Mr Lazarus’s voice. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Why did you send me into this scene? It’s not—’

The sudden thunder of machine-gun fire made Kip wince. Several bullets whined past his head with a sound like angry wasps. It occurred to him that he was standing in a very dangerous place.

He spotted a gap between two parked cars and threw himself towards it, just as a series of shots rattled out on either side of him. He dropped gratefully down between the cars as bullets smashed windscreens and punched ragged holes in black bodywork all around him. The stink of cordite filled the air. He threw his hands over his head and lay where he was for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

He heard a kind of whining sound and realised that Mr Lazarus was speaking to him. He lifted the Communicator to his ear.

‘You’ve got to tell me how to get out of here,’ he gasped. ‘They’re shooting at me. I could be killed!’

‘Don’t be so melodramatic. You’re under cover, aren’t you? I saw you dive behind those cars.’

‘How?’

‘I’m watching on the screen, of course. Now. First things, first. Pull out the earpiece from the Communicator and press the
H
ANDS FREE
button. Then put the handset back in its holster. We’ll still be
able
to talk and you’ll have the use of your hands.’ Kip examined the gadget. He could see a little earpiece fixed to one side of it and when he pulled gently on it, it unreeled from the handset on a length of wire. He took a couple of moments to get the thing pressed into his ear. Now Mr Lazarus’s voice seemed to fill his head.

‘All done?’

‘Yes.’

‘Excellent. Now, I want you to move towards the sidewalk and have a look up the street.’

Kip took a deep breath and did as he was told. He stuck his head carefully out from behind the rear bumper of the car ahead of him. Everything seemed clear. Mr Lazarus urged him on. ‘I want you to move out from there, keeping under cover from the bullets and I want you to grab something for me.’

‘Grab what?’ asked Kip in exasperation.

‘John Dillinger’s hat.’

‘His … his hat? What do you want that for?’

‘It’s not for me. A collector friend of mine wants it and he’s willing to pay big money for it.’

Kip felt a sudden wave of disgust go through him.

‘Is that what this is all about?’ he cried. ‘You’re some kind of … thief?’

There was a brief pause, during which Kip imagined the old man’s outraged expression.

‘That’s a very harsh word,’ he said. ‘You must remember, I’m just taking worthless film images. It’s the Enigma that turns them into real objects. And besides, I have to fund myself in some way. I have devoted my life to rescuing cinemas across the world; I deserve a few creature comforts. I can’t pay for those on the money your father pays me, can I?’