The Missing Link (18 page)

I had planned to peep in through the window, but now I realised that there wasn’t one. I walked around the building, taking care to be quiet, but there were none on the other sides, either. No windows at all.

It was weird. I had never come across a garage without a window. At the big up-and-over door I stopped and listened for a while, but there was no sound coming from inside.

‘Looking for something?’

The voice was right beside me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. But it was only Oggy, who had padded up beside me on silent paws.

‘Oh, Oggy,’ I said. ‘You gave me a fright.’

‘You’re slinking,’ said Oggy. ‘Why are you slinking?’

‘I’m not slinking,’ I said. ‘I’m just . . .’

‘Just?’

‘Just looking for Maggie.’

Oggy listened hard at the door for a moment. Then he said, ‘Not in there, anyway.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I suppose she isn’t.’

2

IT SHOOK ME
, finding myself lying to Oggy. We were friends; we had been through thick and thin together, dependent upon each other for our survival. But here, among the secrets of Fourth World, I was no longer sure that I had any allies.

‘Let’s go in,’ said Oggy. ‘Maybe she’s just being very quiet?’

I had assumed that the small door must be locked, but it wasn’t, and as I eased it open I searched my mind for a reason to be looking for Maggie. Because I knew she was in there. I had seen her go in, just minutes before.

The garage was dark. I switched on the light. There was a momentary pink scurry in the corner as my little mouse friend dived for cover, but there was nothing else moving in there at all.

A chill crept up my back and neck. She had to be here somewhere. I looked inside the car and under it.

‘She’s not here, Christie,’ said Oggy. ‘If she was I’d smell her.’

Unless she had crammed herself into one of the old trunks, he had to be right. But it didn’t
make
sense. As we closed the door behind us I stood still and tried to orient myself in a world where people had the power to appear in the tops of trees and disappear from closed buildings. But no matter how hard I tried, I failed.

3

AT DINNER THAT
night I was still too bewildered to follow up on my questioning campaign. The big mysteries were too scary and couldn’t be asked about, and the smaller ones were like minnows swimming among sharks. Instead I listened to Danny warbling on about beans, and Tina giving her baby report, and Maggie and Sandy fielding all the enthusiasm with smug satisfaction.

Tina was the worst. In her new contentment she had somehow become watered down, like the weak coffee Mom used to give me when I was little. There was no edge to her any more. No spirit. She even volunteered to wash up after dinner. I preferred her the way she was before; spikes and all.

I made a few helpful gestures, like putting away the butter, and was about to go to bed and think, when the Dobermans on patrol set up a terrifying din out in the grounds.

Everyone froze. Even Danny.

‘It’s coming from the hothouses,’ said Sandy.

‘I think you’re right,’ said Maggie. ‘Let’s go and take a look.’

She grabbed a sheep lamp from a charger
on
the wall, and Sandy shrugged herself into a jacket.

‘What’s happening?’ I said.

‘Sounds like visitors,’ said Sandy.

‘But you can’t go out there in the dark,’ I said. ‘They might be dangerous.’

Sandy laughed. ‘We can be pretty dangerous ourselves, you know.’

Danny had turned pale and was beginning to suck air. It was the first time since we had arrived that he’d looked even vaguely unsettled.

‘Not now, Danny,’ I said, sharply. ‘If you don’t want to cause trouble, you’d better hold.’

His expression became even more fearful, but he knew it was serious, and he held. Maggie looked at him, then at me, then back to him again. Sandy opened the door, and Oggy and Itchy shot out into the night and were gone.

‘Have you got a gun?’ said Tina.

‘A gun?’ said Maggie. ‘What would I want with a gun?’

‘They might be armed,’ said Tina. ‘Whoever they are.’

‘And would there be fewer deaths and fewer injuries if we all were?’ said Maggie.

But her words cut no ice with Tina. She was pale and trembling, and despite the gravity of the situation I had time to be surprised. In all the weeks I’d known Tina she had never shown the slightest hint of fear. she hadn’t even put any value on her own life. But this new change that had come over her seemed even more profound than I had imagined.

Then, suddenly, I understood. For the first time in her life, Tina had a home. Not only a home, but a calling: her young animals, her little dependents. She had found something worth living for, and now she was terrified of losing it.

Sandy was standing in the open doorway, letting in the freezing night air.

‘Come on, Mother,’ she said.

On the other side of the orchard, Oggy and Itchy had joined in the frenzied barking. But Maggie was still staring at Danny, who was continuing to hold his breath. Maggie turned to me.

‘Do you know how long he can do that for?’ she asked.

‘Oh, ages,’ I said. ‘Ages and ages.’

‘How long?’

‘Seven minutes. Maybe more.’

Despite the unknown menace waiting in the darkness, Maggie smiled; a broad grin of delighted satisfaction.

‘I knew it,’ she said, softly. ‘I knew it.’

4

THEN SHE WAS
gone, and Sandy as well, out into the night. I was scared witless, but I had to go. Not because I wanted to, but because staying and not knowing would be worse.

‘No, Christie,’ said Tina, as I grabbed my jacket. ‘Not you as well!’

So she did care about me. It gave me courage.

‘You’re not going, Christie. You hear me?’

It was a bit more like the old Tina. I knew that if I stayed another moment she would succeed in getting her own way.

‘Look after Danny!’ I said, and pelted off across the snow after the bouncing beam of the lamp.

There were three men pinned against the outer wall of the greenhouses. They had long sticks and had succeeded in keeping the dogs at bay, but they were wise enough to know that they couldn’t run.

‘Call them off!’ shouted one as we approached.

‘What are you doing here?’ Maggie called back. There wasn’t the slightest fear or doubt in her voice.

‘Call off your dogs!’

‘Not until we get an explanation.’

We took up position behind the four dogs and shone the lamp on the men. They had a torch as well, but its beam was weak and we knew they couldn’t see us as well as we could see them.

‘You have all this food,’ said the taller of the three. ‘We needed a bit to eat for our families.’

‘You didn’t think to ask?’ said Maggie.

Any doubts I had about her dissolved. I was proud just to be there, standing beside her, soaking in her natural authority and fearlessness.

The men were silent. They didn’t look like bad guys to me. They looked ordinary, maybe a bit hard up. Like everybody now, I supposed. Everybody except Fourth World.

‘They say you’re strange folk,’ said another man, at last. He had a short beard, as though he had recently stopped bothering to shave.

‘We’re strange folk, all right,’ said Sandy. ‘You’re better off keeping out of our way.’

‘We will, aye,’ said the tall man. ‘If you just call off your dogs.’

Maggie did.

‘Down!’

Just one word, and all four dogs backed off and dropped, panting, at our feet. The men unglued themselves from the wall and moved forward. I thought they’d go, just melt back into the night they had emerged from, but the unshaven man stepped right up to Maggie, undeterred by the growling of the dogs.

‘It’s no’ right,’ he said. ‘Why should you have all this food when folk out there have none?’

‘Because we grew it,’ said Sandy. ‘That’s why.’

The tall man said, ‘Come on, boys,’ and moved away. But it wasn’t over yet. The bearded man said, ‘Would you have given it to us if we’d asked?’

Maggie thought for a moment, and then said, ‘No. In the summer perhaps, if we had a surplus. But we haven’t, now. We have only enough for ourselves.’

The other two men were some distance away already, and they called to their friend again. But he still wasn’t ready to join them.

‘You snotty cow,’ he snarled. ‘Standing there all smug with your guff about summer surpluses. I’ll give you something surplus all right.’

He swung the heavy stick back, ready to launch a massive blow at Maggie. It seemed to me that nothing could stop him from knocking her brains out, but I was wrong. The pups’ father, Obi, was on his feet and ready to spring, but someone else had reacted even faster.

It was Sandy. She had already jumped into the air and, before the man could start his swing, she lashed out with a karate kick that hit the man plumb in the middle of the chest. The jump and kick were spectacular in themselves, but what was even more amazing was the power behind them. The man’s feet left the ground and he flew backwards for a metre or so before he crashed into the snow, flat on his back.

Before his friends could get to him the dogs
were
up again, forming a bristling cordon between them and us. Maggie waited until the bearded man got up, clutching his chest and gasping. Then she called the dogs off.

‘I don’t expect to see you here again,’ she said, as the two uninjured men helped the other one to shuffle away.

They didn’t answer. We stood in the snow and watched them until they were out of sight, and then we turned back, leaving Obi and his brother, Kanobi, to their nocturnal patrolling of Fourth World.

As we walked back towards the house, I fell into step beside Sandy.

‘That was pretty impressive,’ I said. ‘Where did you learn to do that?’

Sandy shrugged and flashed her bright smile. ‘It just comes naturally,’ she said.

5

THAT NIGHT I
lay awake again, and again the moon began to peer around the edge of my window. I was a jumble of emotion, a bit elated, a bit scared, and full of proud admiration for Maggie and for Sandy, who had acted so bravely that night.

But as my excitement began to settle I found that underneath it all, my resolutions were intact. I still wanted answers. I still wanted to go home. I still wanted to get into the lab. More than ever, now.

Maybe Maggie and Sandy had both been invisible for a while? A chemical for becoming invisible and a chemical for making animals talk. It was too far-fetched. But no matter how hard I racked my brains I couldn’t come up with anything better. I hoped the little mouse would come again, and sure enough he did, about half an hour later. We chatted for a while and he told me his name was Claus. Then I remembered where it was I had last seen him, and I realised that he might be able to offer more than company.

‘Did you see Maggie in the garage today?’ I asked.

‘Maggie?’

‘Mother, I mean,’ I said.

‘’Course,’ said Claus. ‘Two or three times. Saw you and Oggy as well.’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘But what was Ma . . . Mother doing there?’

‘Same as usual,’ said Claus. ‘Just passing through.’

‘Passing through?’

‘On her way down below.’

Of course! What better place to conceal a secret building than underneath the ground? I sat up, took Claus gently in my cupped palms, and held him close to my face.

‘Can you show me?’ I whispered. ‘Can you show me how to get down there?’

Claus ruffled his creamy coat and sat up on his haunches. ‘What’s in it for me?’ he asked.

‘What do you want?’

He thought for a moment, then said, ‘Oats. A few oats left out every night. In the corner behind the barrel. And a little bit of cheese?’

‘Done,’ I said. ‘When can you show me?’

‘Anything wrong with now?’ said Claus.

‘Not a thing,’ I said.

6

CLAUS HUNG ON
to my collar as I crept down the stairs, my boots in my hand. At the bottom step I stopped and whispered to him.

‘Are Oggy and Itchy in the kitchen?’

‘No,’ he whispered back. I wouldn’t have heard him at all if he hadn’t been practically inside my ear. ‘They go out at night to help Obi and Kanobi.’

‘Good.’

‘Why good?’

I shrugged thoughtlessly, tipping Claus upside down so he had to scramble up on to my shoulder again.

‘Sorry.’

The kitchen door was locked, but the bunch of keys was hanging on a hook beside it. I took it down and tried each key until I found the right one, then slipped out into the frozen night.

Claus crept under my collar to borrow the heat of my skin. I hadn’t turned on any lights or brought the lamp, for fear of giving myself away. Out there in the night, despite the moonlight reflecting from the snow, my skin crawled. There had already been one set of intruders, and I didn’t fancy meeting any more. With every
nerve
-end on red alert, I turned the key in the garage door and went inside.

It was pitch dark in there. I considered going back for the lamp until I remembered that the building had no windows, and that it would be safe to turn on the light. The glare was blinding after the moonlight outside, and for a few moments I had to keep my eyes closed. When I opened them the garage looked as empty and innocent as before. But now I knew that it was deceptive; a cleverly disguised threshold to a hidden, and possibly illegal, world.

I walked all around the car, examining the ground, but I couldn’t see anything that looked like a trap door.

‘Where is it, Claus?’ I asked.

He wriggled out from under my collar and sat up, his whiskers tickling my neck.

‘Put me down,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you.’

He ran on ahead to the front of the car and vanished among the clutter of broken deck-chairs and watering cans. When I next caught sight of him he was sitting on top of a large, tin trunk.

‘Under here,’ he said.

I tried to shift the trunk but it wouldn’t budge.

‘No, no,’ piped Claus. ‘Under there!’

He pointed with his nose at a heap of oily rags which lay beside the trunk. They looked as though they had been casually dropped by a mechanic, but when I made to shift them I found that they, like the trunk, were fastened to the floor. Claus dropped down to help, and
tugged
at a loose corner. I must admit that I had begun to doubt his sanity, but now I saw that he was telling the truth. Beneath the corner of the rag was a Chub lock and an inset handle for lifting the whole section of floor; trunk, rags and all.