Dan and the Dead (4 page)

‘I'll put you down for ten minutes, then. And don't forget, it's this Saturday night, so get your thinking cap on.' And she's off before I can even pick my bottom jaw off the floor.

Do you ever get the feeling that you're not in control of your own life? It's like Fate's got me by the danglies and won't let go. I mean, if Lugubrian's
ghost appeared now and slapped me on the back I wouldn't be surprised. But I'm not going to be appearing on stage on Saturday and chopping off my own head in front of the whole school, so Fate and old Gubie can just bog off.

* * *

That evening, after school, I'm back in the alleyways near Bagport's club, retracing my steps and wondering if it's safe to have a bit of a shufty near the bins. I'm pretty sure that's where the stick fell. Si's with me, drifting close to the ground and round behind things where I can't go. I've got a very small torch with a narrow beam, but there's no joy, just loads of bins standing around in the dark and nothing else. The pavement almost feels cleaner than it should be, and it's so quiet that I'm starting to get a bad feeling.

‘Any luck?' I whisper to Si.

‘Not a bean,' he replies.

I'm just thinking it's time to jack it in for the night, when something happens that gives me the fright of my life. And for a kid who sees dead people, that's saying a lot.

The lid of this wheelie bin I'm next to bursts up, and someone grabs my arm! I yell out and twist my arm in a karate move. It's a good move too, something I picked up from a client, and I break the man's grip easily, but another bin explodes open. Two great bear arms pick me up. I see Simon swoop over and hear him shout ‘Daniel!' but before he can get there, I'm being stuffed into a bin like a sack of potato peelings, and the lid slams shut.

Next thing I know, I'm being trundled about and then I'm tipped out on the ground. I try to run, but the same enormous pair of hands grabs me and I'm pushed into the back of a car. The doors slam and the car starts to drive. I sit up, remove a rotten cabbage leaf from my specs and stare back at the sneering face of Carl Bagport.

‘Looking for this, were we?'

He's holding a gun in one hand, and the USB stick in the other.

‘Zounds!' gasps Simon, who's slipped in beside me.

‘Nah, you can keep that,' I say. ‘I've got others.'

I'm trying to sound cool about things, even though I'm really, really not. Bagsy grins as he pops the stick into the top pocket of his suit. Then he reaches out
to a little tray and picks up a martini glass full of something gloopy and pink.

The car's some naff stretched job with back seats facing each other, and next to Bagport there's a bloke with a camera round his neck, a bloke who looks like the Incredible Hulk's mean uncle. He's holding a gun too. Simon can't do his trick on both men at once, but then I guess that's the point.

‘Do you know who this is, Ringpull?' says Bagport to the huge bloke. The huge bloke grunts. ‘It's only the kid who sees dead people.'

Ringpull glances over at his boss, and for a moment it almost looks like he has the brains to not believe what he's hearing. But he just grunts again and goes on pointing his pistol. I look back at Bagport and it's a surprise to see the man's looking at me with genuine interest.

‘What, you believe me?' I say. I'm not used to this.

‘Oh, I don't know yet.' Bagport takes a little sip from his glitzy cocktail, but one of the umbrellas falls out and leaves a sticky trail on his shiny suit. I'm thinking he's trying to give me the Mr Big act with the flash car and everything, but all I can see are some serious style issues. Oh, and guns. I can see those too.

‘But what you did to me yesterday – knocking me out, and the swinging chandelier… There's something about you I don't get,' he says. ‘But I will, kid, I will. I didn't get to where I am today by turning my back on opportunities, and if you
can
see dead people… well, there's an opportunity that doesn't come along every day.' And he gives me a sick leer. His teeth are even whiter than Simon's.

The car drives for a bit longer, and then pulls up. Outside it's really dark, too dark for London, but in the light that spills from the car doors as they open I spot a crumbly brick wall, a mass of ivy and an ancient iron gate. The gate is open, and there's someone there. I catch a glimpse of the terrified face of a girl, but she runs off when Ringpull cuffs her round the head. There are keys in the gate, and I just know they've been nicked from somewhere, on Bagsy's orders.

I'm pulled out of the car, and then Bagport's next to me, his gun in my back. I can tell he's carrying something else, but I can't see what. He pushes me towards the gate and then, despite the gloom, I clock what's through there.

Gravestones.

Hundreds of gravestones.

With a shove, I'm through the gate and standing amongst them.

‘It's Highgate Cemetery,' Simon says in a whisper. ‘But what…?' He gets no further than this though because now he's staring behind me with a look of horror on his face.

I turn slowly and in the dark Bagport shoves something heavy at me.

‘Okay, kid. You say you can talk to the dead? Well, here's your conversation starter.'

I look at my hands.

I'm holding a spade.

‘I love an antique, me,' says Bagport, as we stroll in the graveyard at night. ‘I've got plenty of kids working for me, as you know, but it's the ones who pinch the antiques I value the most.'

I'm just stumping along, two guns trained on me, while Si drifts glumly at my side. At least Ems isn't here to see this.

‘But did you know that right here in the city there are unclaimed antiques galore, just lying around, waiting to be picked up?' Bagport waves at the cemetery around us. ‘Heh, those Victorians! They all died in the end. And they loved to be buried with their stuff, didn't they, your Victorians? Silver watches, gold monocles, ivory false teeth… who needs to go to Egypt when you can raid tombs right here?'

‘You want to dig them up?' I can't help asking. ‘But that's mad! There's loads of 'em!'

‘I only need one hole tonight, kid.' I can tell Bagport's grinning by the sugar in his voice. We stop walking.

‘Here's how things are,' he says. ‘You know too much about me and that's not a healthy situation. For you. Now, either you can really talk to the dead, in which case you're valuable because you can ask around the stiffs and find me a coffin with a diamond tiara in it, or…' He grinds the gun into my back. ‘… or it's all a load of cobblers but at least you'll have dug your own grave, in which case I can leave you here with Ringpull and go home for my kipper. Got it?'

I'll admit that my shoulders are sagging a bit by now. Well, it's not looking good for yours truly, is it?
I turn to Si, and I speak to him out loud, something I never normally do in front of other people. Right now though, there doesn't seem to be any point in secrecy.

‘Well, buddy? Any options?'

‘Ha, look!' Bagport says to Ringpull. ‘He's doing it already!'

Ringpull just grunts at what looks like empty night air to him.

‘Daniel.' Simon's talking urgently. ‘There's no chance this can work. Even if I can locate a coffin six feet down, there's no way I could see in the dark to tell you what's in it. And while I could probably find a fellow ghost or two hereabouts, they are unlikely to know what they were buried with. It's a mad scheme that can only lead to disappointment. I'm afraid your only option is to flee. I could probably knock one of them out, and perhaps with the dark…'

But I hold my hand up. They've both got torches, they've both got guns. I wouldn't get twenty paces.

‘Okay,' I say to Bagport. ‘I'll do it.'

‘Daniel, no!' Simon wails. ‘I cannot help you. He's expecting treasure, but he'll kill you if you dig up nothing!'

But I just nod my head. Fact is, all this talk about
digging stuff up has given me an idea. And if I
do
find something, then Bagport'll count me as one of his kids, won't he? Which means I'll be working for him. And if I'm working for him, then maybe I can find a way to bring him down for Ems. I'll be like the enemy within. Or something. At the very least, I'll live a bit longer, something I'm quite keen on doing, believe me.

But it's a shame I can't say all this to Si, who clearly thinks I've gone mad when I ask Bagport for a torch.

‘Follow me,' I say, and I stride off into the graveyard, in search of a dank cheerless grave I've seen once before. The two men stump along close behind me.

We walk for quite a bit because it takes a while to get my bearings, but just as Bagport's starting to lose patience, I stop. I've found it.

I shine the torch across the white stone and the miserable-looking angel carved on top of it. In front there's a broken stone grave slab and a tangle of thorns and nettles. I drive the spade into the ground and turn around.

‘Here,' I say. ‘There's something valuable buried here.'

‘You're sure?' I can tell Bagport's struggling to decide if he's wasting his time or not. ‘I didn't hear you talk to anyone.'

I shrug. ‘I've chatted to the gentleman buried here many times,' I say, and in the chill quiet of the graveyard at night, I can see both Bagport and Ringpull are rattled by that. They get a bit closer to each other.

‘Daniel, are you quite sure about this?' Si's looking toward the gravestone with a hostile eye.

I nod and look too. Across the peeling stone the torchlight picks out the leaden name:

SILAS LUGUBRIAN

1815 – 1882

GENTLEMAN OF MIRACLES

MASTER OF ILLUSION, UNTIL THE END

And behind the stone, a look of unholy triumph across his sallow features, stands the ghost of the man himself.

‘Come to help old Silas, have you, boy?'

In no time at all, Ringpull has dragged the great broken slabs off the grave, and yanked back armfuls of nettles and brambles with his bare hands. Then everyone's looking at me. I can't quite believe what's happening, but I pick up the spade and dig it into the sodden earth anyway. I mean, what else can I do?

I'm two spadefuls in when I realize I'm never going
to dig all that way down on my own. It's a joke, and a sick one at that. I turn to glare at Bagport, poised with my foot driving the spade into the ground, and…

FLASH!

I fall back, dazzled, lifting a clod of mud high with the spade, and…

FLASH!

For a moment I can't see a thing, but then I remember the camera round Ringpull's neck. Bagport's got pictures now, and I'm getting more and more entangled in his web.

I dig a bit more, and the ghost of Silas Lugubrian is standing over me.

‘The apparatus!' he's saying, rubbing his hands ‘Oh, my apparatus! I knew you would see sense, boy. A few little tweaks and it should work perfectly. I'm almost certain I know what went wrong. You'll be the toast of your school show, and my reputation shall be restored!'

I look up at him.

‘I'm not doing this for you,' I snap. ‘So don't go getting any ideas. Only an idiot would put their head in your
apparatus
after what happened to you.'

‘Kid, are you really talking to the ghost of the man buried here?' says Bagport. I can tell he's intrigued
by it all, despite himself, and there's even a tremble in his voice. ‘On the level now. What does he look like?'

I stop digging and glance at Lugubrian. The ghost leers at me and makes his ugly whiskery head turn a complete circle. Slowly.

‘Be quiet and let me dig,' I say to Bagport.

I'm in a bad mood. But by now it's clear to everyone that I'm going to take all night, and perhaps they're ready for this, because at a word from his boss Ringpull seizes the spade and shoves me to one side. In a moment he's powering down through the earth, flinging great lumps of the stuff out of the deepening hole.