The Case of the Stolen Film
For Charlotte, so far away
And Stanley and Ethan, much nearer
Chapter 1
Brant Buchanan kicked off his expensive shoes, loosened his silk tie and reclined in the plush leather back seats of his customised Bentley, identical to the one he used in the UK, except for the US licence plates and the steering wheel on the left.
âLA is far too hot,' he said as the air conditioning kicked in, bringing the temperature down to a bearable level. âPlease tell me you've discovered something, Weaver.'
His driver flicked a switch that made his face appear on the plasma screen in front of Mr Buchanan. âI have located two gentlemen who should be able to help,' he replied.
The silver-haired billionaire smiled at the image of his most trusted employee. âI knew you wouldn't let me down,' he said warmly.
âBut I should warn you, they are a little eccentric,' added Weaver.
âGiven the subject matter, I would expect nothing less,' said Buchanan.
Buchanan pushed one of the many glowing buttons in the car door and a panel opened. He reached in and pulled out a book. It was a red hardback with a white zigzag across the cover. If there had ever been a dust jacket, it had long since been lost. There was no title or author's name on the cover but, as Brant opened the book, on the first page were the words:
DRAGONLORE
A Scientific Study of Dragons
By Ivor Klingerflim
âThis is such a fascinating book, Weaver,' said Buchanan. âFor example, did you know that dragon mothers plant their eggs in the liquid fires of earth's Inner Core then wait on the banks for the young dragons to swim to the surface?'
âNo, sir, I didn't, sir,' replied Weaver, whose lack of
enthusiasm for his boss's latest project hadn't stopped him carrying out his orders efficiently and unquestioningly. It was he who had scoured the world for the book before discovering this copy in a charity shop in North London.
âListen to this bit,' said Mr Buchanan, reading from the book.
â“The term up-airer relates to a great Himalayan conference, held a thousand or so years ago, when those dragons in favour of destroying mankind rose into the air (and became known as up-airers). Luckily for humans, the majority stayed on the ground and so dragonkind went into hiding.”'
âFascinating, sir,' said Weaver.
Mr Buchanan continued to read out loud.
â“In spite of this, many dragons believe that war between humans and dragons is inevitable and that they will be led into battle by a dragon carrying the Turning Stone, a large spherical rock which is said to give power over all dragonkind.”'
âShall I take you back to Sands Hall?' said Weaver, starting the engine and slipping the control stick into drive.
âYes, please,' replied Buchanan.
Light classical music filled the car.
âIt may take some time. The traffic in LA is particularly bad this evening.'
âThat's because no one walks in this city,' replied Buchanan.
He pressed a button and a drink appeared from the side door. He pushed another and the image of Weaver's face was replaced by a piece of grainy CCTV footage. Buchanan picked up the drink and sat back to watch. It showed an office from three different angles. A dragon dropped into the room, looked around and then reached up and lowered a young girl in too.
âShouldn't we be using her to get to the dragon?' said Weaver. âThere's clearly a connection between them.'
âIn business I always find it best to arm myself with as much information as possible before making an acquisition,' replied Buchanan, âbut yes, perhaps it is time to make good use of young Holly Bigsby.'
On the other side of the Atlantic, a red-backed, green-bellied, urban-based Mountain Dragon called Dirk Dilly was crouching on the roof of a building across the road from a warehouse in East London, perfectly camouflaged against its red tiles.
A high wire fence surrounded the warehouse and two others with a sign that read âDANGER: DEMOLITION IN PROGRESS'. A fourth warehouse had already been reduced to rubble, except for its back wall. Within the fenced area were a number of workmen wearing yellow bibs and hard hats. One of them was operating a large red machine that looked like an enormous crab's claw attached to the base of a tank.
He pulled a lever and the claw crashed into the remaining wall of the destroyed building. The claw snapped shut, crushing bricks and sending clouds of dust into the air.
That morning, as usual, Dirk had been watching a skyscraper in London called Centrepoint, which he had recently learnt was used as a base by Vainclaw Grandin's Kinghorns, a group of dragons who were intent on waging war against humans.
Several weeks had passed without seeing one dragon until finally today he had spotted one on top of the building, silhouetted against the night sky.
Dirk had remained where he was, watching from a safe distance. The dragon came to the edge of the building, checked no one was looking, spread its wings and glided down, sailing over Dirk's head and landing on a nearby church. It was the Sea Dragon, Flotsam, one of the original gang of four Kinghorns that Dirk had discovered in London.
Flotsam moved swiftly across the roofs. Dirk followed. Heading east, the Sea Dragon had gone into the same warehouse the four Kinghorns had used when Dirk first discovered their presence in London, only now it was being knocked down.
The foreman blew a whistle.
âTea's up,' he shouted and all the workmen, including the one operating the claw, headed towards a cabin on the far side of the site.
Dirk took his opportunity and leapt from the rooftop, spreading his wings, touching a foot on the top of the machine, spring-boarding up into the air and landing on the flat roof of the warehouse.
He peered in through the dirty skylight.
Below were the four crates he had seen before with the words âDO NOT OPEN' printed in red on the top. In the middle of the crates was a Mountain Dragon â red-backed and green-bellied just like himself. It was Jegsy Grandin, nephew ofVainclaw. Flotsam was standing to one side.
Dirk opened the skylight and slipped inside, closing it behind him as quietly as possible and blending with the rafters.
He looked down.
Jegsy had plugged an old-fashioned record player into a wall, causing the turntable to rotate. In place of a record he had balanced a long-stemmed lamp-stand on top of a silver hubcap of a car. As the stand spun round, he tried to add a yellow hard hat, like the ones worn by the workmen outside. Moving ever so slowly, Jegsy placed the hat on top and, for a second, it looked
like he had succeeded in this pointless goal. Jegsy watched, transfixed. Then the hat began to wobble violently, tipping the lamp-stand and sending it and the hubcap crashing to the floor.
âSo close,' said Jegsy, picking up the bits.
âJegsy, you idiot, that's enough, like. We've got to get out of here,' said Flotsam. âThey're going to knock this place down.'
âBut Vainclaw said to stay here,' protested Jegsy.
âListen, Jegs, I just had a word with the boss and there's been a change of plan. We got new orders.'
âI haven't heard anything.'
âThat's because you're too busy playing with your stupid toys.'
âEh, calm down,' said Jegsy. âThese aren't toys. They're useful things. I just haven't figured out what they're used for yet.'
âAw, come on, even I know that humans wear the yellow bowls on their soft heads so that they don't get hurt. Look.' Flotsam picked up the hard hat and jammed it over Jegsy's head then spun around and whacked him with his tail, sending him flying across the room.
Jegsy stood up and dusted himself down. He touched the hard hat on his head then smiled. âOh
yeah, cheers, Flotsam,' he said, pleased with the discovery.
âLook, Jegs, we're mates, ain't we?' said the Sea Dragon. âThe Dragnet are hunting Kinghorns. They've even got a couple of officers watching the underground entrance to this place.'
âDragnet officers?' said Jegsy, sounding concerned.
âYeah, but don't worry. I've just done a deal that will give us safe passage but we've got to get moving.'
âBut Vainclaw said â'
âI told you, I got new orders. Now come on,' snapped Flotsam.
Outside, the house-crushing machine started up again and the shouts of the workmen could be heard. There was an enormous crash, which shook the building so violently that the colour returned to Dirk's skin for a moment. Luckily, neither Jegsy nor Flotsam noticed.
The red metal of the large claw came through the side of the building. It withdrew, causing bits of brick to fall down. One of them landed on top of Jegsy's head, bouncing off his hard hat and whacking Flotsam in the face.
âEh, you're right about the yellow bowl,' said Jegsy. âI didn't feel a thing.'
âCome on, you idiot,' snarled Flotsam, jumping into a crate. âI'm getting out of here. Are you coming or not?'
âEh, watch who you're calling an idiot,' replied Jegsy, grabbing the record player and jumping into another crate. They both spoke a few words in Dragonspeak, asking the rock to take them down. The rock, being rock, took them down into the ground.