Dan and the Dead (8 page)

‘Well, no,' I say. She's right.

‘So pull your tights up and be a man, you numpty!'

You know, despite everything, I'm going to miss Ems.

I'm just about to say something cheery and brave when all the wind is knocked out of my lungs. Something big lifts me off the ground, and as I try to focus on what it might be, something else that looks a lot like a fist knocks me senseless.

* * *

When the world clears again, and the pain in my head finally gets my full attention, I find myself looking at someone I'd hoped I wouldn't have to see again up close.

‘Well, well, the kid who sees dead people,' says Bagport, through his teeth.

We're in the back of his car, and even with my head reeling, I can tell that like me, Bagport has spent the night in his clothes. No one can have two suits that shiny. In fact, I guess he's spent the night in his car too, now his club's been raided. But he's obviously been back to his lair because there's a pile of computer equipment, keyboards and mobile phones in the back with us. In fact, all the stuff the police would need to make a proper conviction stick.

‘Get a move on, Ringpull!' calls Bagport to the front seat, and I turn to see the thick neck of Mr Big's hard man as he grinds through the gears. Gold fluffy dice swing from the rear view mirror. We're in the white stretched limo, which the police must be looking for, so I guess that explains the nervous twitch in Bagport's face.

‘Daniel?' Si's caught us up and he's in the car, with Ems too. ‘Have they hurt you?'

I shake my head, which Bagsy sees and thinks it's his cue to come in with some cheesy lines.

‘You screwed up my life, kid, so I'll screw up yours. You may think those photos will be the end of me, but I'll make sure of your end first. Ha!'

‘Yeah, well, I'll tell the police everything,' I manage to say. ‘I'll tell them what you did to Ems. Who do you think they'll listen to, a kid like me or a scumbag like you? You're going down, mate.'

Bagport leans forward and grinds his index finger into my chest, one eye squinting and the other wide open.

‘Maybe, maybe, maybe.' His voice is wild and freaky. ‘But you're going down further, much further. Right down to the bottom where the fishes fart.
Mate
! Ha, ha!'

He's pretty hysterical, but I don't like the sound of this. I make a grab for the door handle but he kicks out at me. His crocodile-skin boot makes contact with my chin, and that's the last thing I remember for Death knows how long.

The next thing I know it's getting dark, and I've obviously been out for a few hours. There's a bumping, splashing sound, and I'm guessing that's what woke me up, but I can't think about that now because I realize my hands are tied. Tightly.

Behind my back.

I roll over and catch my chin on a computer monitor. I'm still in the back of Bagport's car, only now I'm on my own, surrounded by all that electronic
stuff from Bagsy's office. Sitting up, I see that the car's parked at a steep angle, on a slope running down. Above me are what look like huge dockside containers and a crane. Something is slapping at the back of the car, and I strain to get my head up to look. Then I say something rude, because what's behind me is the sea!

And it's lapping right round the back of the car.

‘Daniel! Can you hear me?' yells Si's voice.

I twist around again, and see him wringing his hands. Ems is there too.

‘We thought you were dead,' she says. ‘Well, I did, but Frilly Knickers here said he'd know if you were.'

‘Where are we?' I manage to say, and I yank at the knots round my wrists. ‘Is that really the sea?'

Simon nods, his eyes wide.

‘Si, please tell me the tide's going out.'

‘We're at the port of Harwich,' says Si. ‘The back end of it. That scoundrel Bagport is planning to catch a boat to Holland, I overheard him saying so.'

‘I don't care where Mr Fake Tan and Chinos goes on holiday!' I'm yelling myself now. ‘The tide, Si?'

‘Alas, it rises.'

‘Dan, you have to get free!' cries Ems. ‘The water's already coming into the car.'

Since when has she called me Dan? It's normally ‘turnip brain' or ‘pinhead' or something. Now I know I should be worried, especially when I look again at all the stuff crammed into the back seat. It's just about everything that Bagsy needs to get rid of if he wants to escape a long time in clink. And that includes your favorite psychic detective.

‘He's going to let me drown, isn't he?' I ask the two ghosts, though it's a stupid question. Of course he is.

‘I shouldn't have got you involved!' Ems is really upset. ‘I always knew he was too dangerous.'

‘Relax,' I say, though I'm near to panic myself. My arms are completely fixed behind me, and already there's a trickle of water around the back door. ‘Simon can use his spook powers to loosen the knots, can't you, Si? Si?'

‘Daniel, I have been trying. But after elevating the cassock in the church last night… well, the knot is fiendishly tight and I fear my powers are insufficiently recuperated. Daniel, you must get free by yourself. And quickly! Zooks, see how the waters rise!'

I tug at the ropes till my wrists almost bleed, but there's no way I can loosen the knots. There's a little give, but I can't get my hands through. I turn and
look about wildly. Is there something I can break to make a sharp edge? Can I cut the rope?

No.

‘Daniel, think! Is there something from one of our previous clients you can use?'

I rack my brains. I've picked up a lot over the years, and you'd be amazed at what I can do, but escaping from the back of cars isn't a skill I've needed before.

Escape…

‘I can drive the car…' I gasp out. ‘I got that last year, remember? Si, could you start the car?'

‘Maybe, but with your hands tied…'

‘I don't know how I can get them free, Si. I just don't know.'

There's a sudden upturn in the pressure of the water spraying round the doors and into the back seat. I stare ahead up the steep slope, and in the gloom I see two figures standing at the top, watching. They have a small car behind them, and I can tell it's Bagport and Ringpull, smoking and waiting to see me go under. The waterline is already washing over the rear windows. I've got about five minutes, max.

‘There must be someone who can help you escape!' I'm touched that Ems is so worried about me, but there's that word again, ‘escape', and there's
no getting away from the idea that comes into my head. A truly horrible idea. And yet…

I look at Si, and something in his wild eyes suggests he's thinking it too.

‘Daniel, I could get him very quickly. He could be here in a minute or two, and I'm certain he can help. He was a noted escapologist in his day.'

I tug at the ropes again. There's got to be some other way.

‘Just give me a moment to think…'

‘You don't have many moments left,' says Si. ‘Let me fetch him!'

I struggle again, but slump forward into the computers in defeat. The water is already creeping up my ankles and the icy spray from around the door is soaking the rest of me. I have no choice. It's the North Sea, or…

‘Okay, Si. Get him.'

Then Si's gone. Ems is swirling around in front of me, flapping.

‘What's he doing? Who has he gone to get?'

‘S'okay, Ems,' I say. She's still my client after all. ‘There's someone who can help me out of this. I'm going to have to do a deal, that's all. It's just that the price is going to be, er, high.'

‘What do you mean? What deal? What price?'

The water hits my thigh and it's freezing. My legs are already going numb. The car makes a groan as it begins to shift in the tidal water.

‘The ultimate price,' I say and shake the golden cage that's still chained to my wrist. But Ems looks blank.

‘I don't understand,' she says.

‘But I do,' says a gravelly voice. ‘So, you're finally ready to do a deal with your old pal Silas are you? Need a little touch of magic, eh?' And the sallow face of Silas Lugubrian, Gentleman of Miracles, leers down at me in the gloom, as the water creeps towards my belly button.

All I can do is nod.

‘You must swear it.' Silas Lugubrian looks right into my eyes. ‘You must swear to perform my trick in public.'

‘I'm o-only looking for a d-down payment…' I stutter. The cold is getting right into the heart of me.

‘It doesn't matter what you call it,' says Lugubrian, ‘I know how you work, boy, I know the deal. I give you a little of myself – in this case my escapology skills – and you do what I ask. I'm happy
to pay you in advance, but what guarantee can you give
me
, eh?'

The water's creeping up my middle. If he doesn't hurry my hands will be too numb to manipulate the knots anyway.

‘Just do it!' Si shouts at Gubie. ‘He has but moments!'

‘I p-promise,' I manage to say. ‘G-get me out of here, and I'll t-take on your case.'

Lugubrian gives a ghostly huff and looks uncertain. But he's got me, he can see that. If I go against my promise, my reputation amongst the desperate dead will be ruined, and I just know the old magician will haunt me for the rest of my life. He can probably see all this in my eyes, and he smiles, his teeth spreading before me like yellow tombstones.

‘Very well,' croons the ghost of Silas Lugubrian, ‘Are you ready?'

I nod, trembling.

Gubie's head advances towards mine. It gets closer and closer until it dissolves and passes through my eyes like smoke. There's a rush of cold to my brain, colder even than the seawater chill that's gripping my body – so cold that it feels like icicles have formed inside my skull – and I cry out.

Then as soon as it's started, it's over. Gubie's spirit passes out through my ears in streams of ectoplasm and his head reforms. In my skull the cold melts away.

But not entirely.

Somewhere in my memory I sense an unfamiliar little packet of experience that wasn't there before, experience that is not my own.

This is how they all pay me – a tiny portion of their life, gifted to me in return for my services. It's a little piece of the dead that will live on in me once they have passed on to the Hereafter. And in this case, it's everything Lugubrian knows about escapology.

But this is no time for chat.

My fingers are already reaching into the knots, doing things they've never done before with the practiced ease of someone else's skill. And it turns out Silas Lugubrian, Gentleman of Miracles, was really quite good at the old Houdini business, because the knot's already starting to slip, even as the water reaches my shoulders.

‘Si,' I shout, ‘start the freakin' engine!'

Simon shoves his hand into the car's ignition – he's started cars for me before – but nothing happens for a moment, and I remember he's still running on
empty. Then, just as I throw the ropes away from my hands and grab the front seats, there's a gasp from Si and a reluctant rumble as the engine coughs into life. I drag myself tumbling into the front seat. I seize the steering wheel, ram the gear stick into first, and jab my foot down on the submerged accelerator. The engine screams.

‘Advance!' cries Si.

‘I'm trying!' I shout, as I let out the hand brake to relieve the engine's roar. The car eases up the slope, painfully slowly. I'm lucky the engine wasn't under water yet, but the exhaust is, and the back of the car's full of the North Sea too and probably weighs more than a boatload of overweight Vikings. There's a riot of bubbles in the water behind me, but the car still only inches forward.

‘Faster!' shouts Ems, as if I need telling.