The Case of the Wayward Professor (4 page)

A smarmy presenter was grilling a dull-looking politician, wearing a fixed smile.

‘How can you justify the amount spent on defence when you can't tell me what that money is being spent on?' asked the presenter, leaning forward eagerly.

The politician gave a false laugh and said, ‘My dear Jonathan, issues of defence are necessarily secret. Surely even you must understand that.'

‘What about this leaked document on the AOG project? Can you tell me about that?'

Dirk noticed a twinge of irritation cross the minister's face. ‘There is no such thing as the AOG project. That document was a fake, probably put around by one of your journalist lot in order to damage our election campaign.'

‘What does AOG stand for?'

‘I have no idea. I have already told you, to the best of my knowledge there is no such project.'

‘Well, we've run out of time. Thank you, minister,' said the presenter, moving on to the next topic.

Dirk switched off the TV and threw the remote at what he thought was a cushion, but turned out to be Willow, who screeched and ran under the desk.

The professor had mentioned the AOG project. Knocking back the contents of the glass of orange squash, Dirk wondered what the professor did all day at that computer on the sixth floor of his Moorgate office. With this thought, he cleared away the baked-bean cans and old newspapers and settled down to sleep on his mattress.

Holly struggled to get free. ‘Who are you?' she demanded.

‘I'll tell you on the way back to the dorm, Holly.' The girl pulled off Holly's makeshift balaclava, keeping a firm grip of her shoulder.

‘I'm not going back. I'm leaving.'

‘Well, go ahead, then,' said the girl, letting go and handing her the wire cutters, ‘But I should warn you that as soon as you cut this wire you'll have the whole of security down on you faster than a tobogganing tadpole.'

Holly faltered. ‘But …why?'

‘This is no ordinary fence. It's made from SM2,
intelligent metal. Stuff they use in proper defence bases. Cutting it, climbing it or tunnelling under it triggers the alarm. And say you do get past it, you're tagged. The wristbands all have short-range tracking devices. They were introduced last year after one of the oh-so-famous students was kidnapped. That's why you can't take them off.'

‘I was going to cut it off with the wire cutters.'

‘Try it. You can't cut through them, you can't bite through them. It's easier to chop off your own hand than remove these babies.'

‘But I thought all this security was to stop people getting in?'

‘There are two types of pupils at William Scrivener: those being protected from the outside world and those being kept from the outside world. Have a guess which you are. Let's get you back to bed. The security guards know not to hurt the students but the dogs haven't been as well trained. I heard one bit a student the other day.'

The girl led Holly back towards the dorm, walking in the shadows of the trees.

‘It took me three attempts before I figured out the tree walk. I watched you practising during breaks. More difficult in the dark, isn't it? I used to practise
blindfolded. I reckon I can get across those trees as quickly as anyone can walk along the path. My name's Moji, by the way.'

‘Are you going to report me?' asked Holly.

‘Not this time,' said Moji. ‘You've only been here a month, haven't you?'

‘Yes. I got sent here to stay out of trouble.'

Moji laughed. ‘You're doing a great job. What was your plan once you got out?'

‘I was going to find a phone box and call a friend.'

‘Someone by the name of Dirk Dilly?' said Moji, pulling out a handful of envelopes from her pocket and handing them back to her.

‘You've been stopping my letters,' said Holly angrily.

‘Not me, the school. Palmer would never let anything that criticises the school get out in case the press got hold of it, not to mention what you say about poor Petal. Who is this Dirk you're writing to then, an uncle or something?'

Holly smiled to herself, remembering how she had pretended to be Dirk's niece in order to get past his landlady into his office. ‘Something like that,' she said.

‘The school intercepted the mail and Palmer asked me to keep an eye on you.'

‘Why you?'

‘Because I know all the tricks in the book. I've made more attempts to get out of here than anyone else. I still hold the record for the furthest any student has ever got, all the way to Little Hope …' Moji stopped dead and pushed Holly hard against the tree, clasping her hand over her mouth. Holly struggled to get free, but Moji whispered, ‘Be quiet. The guard's coming.'

Holly heard the crackling sound of a crowd roaring and a voice saying, ‘… a triumphant return to form for the Arsenal …' The guard must have left the channel open, so he could listen to the match.

Once he had passed, Moji released her and they continued on their way.

‘So why won't you let me go?' asked Holly. ‘We could go together.'

‘My escaping days are over. I'm a prefect now, a respectable student of William Scrivener School. Besides, this is my last year here.'

The two girls got to the courtyard and Moji strolled across with Holly by her side. Reaching the door to the girls' dorm, Moji raised her wristband but stopped and said, ‘On second thoughts, let's use Palmer's.'

She held out her hand. Holly looked up into her smiling face, pulled out the wristband and handed it to her.

‘Good steal by the way,' said Moji, opening the door,
‘but you forgot that there's a camera in Palmer's office.' They entered the building. ‘And in the technical design room,' she added, holding out her hand again.

Holly handed over the wire cutters.

The security cameras swivelled to follow them as they headed down the corridor. They stopped by the notice board outside the common room. ‘This is where we say goodbye,' said Moji.

‘How do you know I won't try again?' replied Holly.

‘Go ahead and try. I like a challenge,' countered Moji. ‘But while you're on this side of the fence, you've got very little hope of ever making it.'

Moji winked at her, turned on her heel and walked away.

Holly felt depressed. She felt trapped. She looked up at the notice board and read.

PREFECT NOTICE

NEXT THURSDAY ALL PREFECTS WILL BE
REQUIRED TO ACT AS USHERS AT THE
SCHOOL CONCERT TAKING PLACE AT LITTLE
HOPE VILLAGE HALL. NO PUPILS OTHER THAN
BAND MEMBERS MAY ATTEND. THIS WILL BE A
MEDIA EVENT SO SMART DRESS AND BEST
BEHAVIOUR ARE REQUIRED.

PRINCIPAL PALMER

Holly thought about what Moji had said. She had little hope of getting out while she was on this side of the fence.

That was the answer. Moji was giving her a clue as to how to escape. She had to go to the concert and begin her escape from Little Hope.

A plan was already formulating in Holly's mind. She smiled and looked up at the camera. She took two steps back and it followed her. She stepped forward and it moved again. She jumped to the right then to the left, then again. The camera looked like it was having a fit. Holly giggled and ran back to her room, where she slipped back to bed, careful not to wake Petal.

Dirk was drowning in an ocean of baked beans. He struggled to swim, but the beans were pulling him down. Tomatoey sauce filled his nostrils. The more he fought the deeper he sank.

‘Mr Dilly?' screamed the beans. ‘Hello, Mr Dilly?'

He awoke from the nightmare to find himself in his office with an empty baked-bean tin on the end of his nose. Willow was jumping over cans and old case files like it was a game.

I seriously need to clean up
, he thought.

He looked up at the clock and scratched his head. He knew it shouldn't be difficult, but dragons didn't have a way of measuring time and Dirk had never quite
got to grips with the bizarre system that humans used. Maybe it was time to go digital.

‘Mr Dilly? Are you in?' Mrs Klingerflim was pounding on the door.

‘I'll have the money next week,' called Dirk.

‘Oh, don't worry about the rent, dear. I was hoping you might be able to help me with some lifting downstairs.'

He opened the door to find the old lady, smiling benignly.

‘No problem, Mrs K,' he said.

‘That's very kind, dear,' she replied. ‘My Ivor used to do all the lifting. That's another thing he hasn't been able to do since he passed away.'

Dirk followed the old lady downstairs, careful that his tail didn't knock any of the old black-and-white pictures and china ornaments that lined the walls. He often wondered what the world looked like to Mrs K. If she was short-sighted enough not to realise that her unreliable tenant was in fact a 1,266 year-old red-backed, green-bellied, urban-based Mountain Dragon, the world must have been a pretty weird-looking place to her.

She led him into the kitchen, where there were two cardboard boxes on the floor.

‘If you could put them on that top shelf,' she said. ‘I'd do it myself but I'm not as tall as I used to be. It's a funny to-do, growing old. When you're young you get taller, then when you're middle-aged you get fatter. And, just when you're getting used to how tall and fat you are, bish bash bosh, you're old, thin and short. It's a bit like being an inflatable castle.'

‘And life's one big kid's birthday party,' mused Dirk, picking up one of the boxes. It was full of dusty old books. He turned the top one over. It had a red cover with a thick white line that zigzagged across the front. ‘Anything good to read in here?' he asked, holding it up.

‘Oh no, just Ivor's old rubbish,' she replied. ‘I'd throw it away but I find the older I get, the more sentimental I am about these knick-knacks.'

Dirk put the book back in the box and placed it on the shelf. He stooped to pick up the second box and noticed on the dining table a gleaming computer. It looked strangely out of place in Mrs Klingerflim's kitchen.

‘I see you're moving with the times,' he said.

‘Silly, isn't it?' she replied. ‘My eldest, Mark, bought it for me, said I needed updating. He connected up all the wires and things. Broad-bean connection, he said, but
what's an old lady like me going to do with that? I get my broad beans from the corner shop.'

‘Can I have a look?' asked Dirk, placing the second box on the shelf by the first.

‘Of course, dear. I'll put the kettle on.'

He moved the chair out of the way and sat down in front of the computer, ever cautious not to let his scaly skin brush against the old lady.

Human technology wasn't really Dirk's strong point, but computers had their uses and the Internet could be great for getting information on suspects. He moved the mouse and found a search engine. Using the tip of his claw he carefully typed in the company name NAPOW.

An expensive-looking website appeared on screen. Dirk read the company description.

NAPOW
is a world-class supplier of
electronic warfare systems and cutting-edge
defence technology
.

So that's what the professor did, he made weapons, and fairly heavy-duty ones by the look of the website. A globe materialised in the centre of the screen and the company motto appeared.

NAPOW:
MAKING THE WORLD A SAFER PLACE

Dirk smiled to himself. It was typical of humans. A company dedicated to creating the very latest in destructive technology, capable of killing greater numbers at higher speed with less effort, and that made the world safer.

‘Tea, dear?' asked Mrs Klingerflim.

‘No, thanks,' said Dirk.

He tried another search, on ‘AOG project', and found various newspaper articles referring to it as some sort of secret government defence project, but nothing that said what it was, or that connected it with NAPOW.