Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (33 page)

“OK,” said Johnny. “You're sure the plican's up to it?”

“All sorted,” said Clara. “And I know I've never done anything this big before but it's much easier 'cos I don't have to put it anywhere.”

“OK,” said Johnny. “Just be careful.”

“Oh we will, Master Johnny,” said Alf. “You should get back to the bridge. The journey should be quick.”

“Will do,” Johnny replied, and he turned and walked back into the lift shaft, leaving Gronack to amuse itself in the shuttle bay. Instead of saying “bridge” the word “dinodeck” came from his mouth and Johnny found himself stepping out into the prehistoric environment halfway up the ship. Ptery and Donna were sitting side by side on the large rock. Johnny walked over unnoticed and clambered up next to them. “What's up?” he asked.

Ptery pointed his bone-crested head out in front of them. Johnny looked. The deck that originally had buzzed with life was now quiet. Almost all the dinosaurs were lying down, with just a triceratops and a little two-legged armored dinosaur grazing unenthusiastically by the stream.

“Are they OK?” Johnny asked.

Donna shook her head. “They is sad,” she said. “Want home now but we tell them home gone. We is all much sad.”

“That's why I brought you here,” said Johnny. “So I can find you a new home.”

“Not good here,” said Donna, proudly unfurling her leathery wings and stretching them out wide. “Need room. Need fight.”

“You saved our lives … again,” said Johnny. “I'm going to look after you—I promise.” Johnny bowed low before the two pteradons. Ptery nodded and Johnny slid off the rock and walked back toward the lifts, wondering where on earth he could possibly release his prehistoric friends.

There it was, exactly as Johnny remembered. It was strange to see the real London Gherkin again, standing in front of a clear blue sky, being beamed onto Sol's viewscreen from the cameras on board the Jubilee. As the cameras panned downward it was clear the place was deserted, as Johnny hoped it would be. On weekdays, when the commuters arrived for work, it would be heaving, but at weekends it seemed there was next to no one there. The “past” Johnny, with Bentley, must have been among the rare few to walk by all day, apart from Clara and Alf who were now sitting on a little wall facing away from the camera. In the background a lone security guard in a blue uniform was eyeing them suspiciously.

Chancellor Gronack had retired to its gel pod, albeit reluctantly. The phasmeer had come to the bridge and voiced all Johnny's fears about what they were about to attempt and had demanded to leave the Spirit of London in one of the remaining shuttles. Sol, however, pointed out that if anything did go wrong this would leave it marooned in a double-decker bus on the Moon, out of communications range with short-term life support and at the mercy of either Terrans or the krun. Gronack said it would be more than happy to take that chance but, when Johnny refused, it spun round with its antennae in the air and stalked across the bridge, to vanish into the orange goo. Johnny would have quite liked to lose the
Chancellor, but not at the expense of one of his only three shuttles. He'd decided to stay out of the gel pods, not that he could do anything to help, but he wanted to be there just in case. He glanced up at the tank behind his chair. The plican was confined in the uppermost section but looked livelier than any time since they had left Melania. “How are we doing, Sol?” he asked.

“The plican and I are prepared, just as we were when you last asked.”

“Sorry,” said Johnny. He looked at the screen, hoping for the signal from Alf. Clara was still sitting with her back to the camera. Her hands were resting on the wall either side of her, the palms pointing toward the building. Alf was now facing the camera as he studied Clara's face. Behind them in the distance the security guard was looking decidedly agitated. Alf shook his head toward the camera.

“Anything from the krun, Sol?” Johnny asked.

“I shall inform you of any changes in their flight paths, as stated previously.”

“Yeah … sorry … do you think it will work?”

“I take it you are referring to Clara's plan?” Sol asked.

“Yeah.”

“The theory is innovative, but sound, and I am sure the plican is capable. Clara believes she can complete her task and I have no reason to expect otherwise.”

Johnny folded his arms and sat back down in his chair. “But what's the probability? What are our chances?”

“There are too many variables for me to calculate an accurate probability. A simultaneous fold of this type has never been attempted before.”

“Never?”

“No. However, that does not mean it is likely to fail. I believe we have every chance of success.”

Johnny stared at the images on the screen. “You're sure there's no one inside?”

“The building on which you based my form is deserted.”

The guard in his blue uniform seemed to have had enough. He was striding toward Alf and Clara with a determined look on his face. Alf, though, couldn't see him as his back was turned to the building. The android was looking from Clara and then into the viewscreen and then he raised his bowler hat.

“The signal,” shouted Johnny.

“Folding in three …”

Johnny floated out of his chair as the gravity generators were switched off.

“Two …”

He watched as the real London Gherkin winked out of existence behind the approaching security guard.

“ … one.”

The plican fell through into its main tank and Johnny saw the Moon fly past him as he seemed to be falling headfirst toward London from above … very fast. He closed his eyes. When he opened them he was lying on the floor of the bridge, feeling as if he'd left his stomach up by the Moon. “We make it?” he moaned.

“The folds appear to have been a total success,” said Sol. “Welcome to London.”

“What about Clara?” Johnny asked.

“Clara and Alf have boarded and are on their way up.”

Johnny picked himself up and collapsed into his chair. He swiveled round to face the lift shaft as Alf stepped out, supporting Clara with an arm around her shoulder. She was white as a sheet, but grinning broadly.

“I did it, didn't I?” she said, half falling onto the bridge.

“I still say we should have gone straight to sickbay, Miss Clara,” said Alf.

“I had to check the plican,” said Clara as she made her way unsteadily over to the tank next to Johnny.

“Sol says it's never been done before,” said Johnny.

Clara smiled at him. “I'm not really surprised,” she said, holding on to the plican's tank. “Even small folds are hard work, and the Gherkin's huge.”

“What's happened to the real Gherkin?” Johnny asked.

“The plican's got it now,” Clara replied.

Alf joined them. “The original building is still here,” he said, gesturing around them, “but just fractionally removed. In hyperspace if you will. Like a spring. As soon as we leave here it will snap back into position.”

“And the workers? They really won't notice?” Johnny asked.

“They may feel a little odd as they enter,” Alf replied, “as they will step out of their own space–time, but it is such a minuscule trip I doubt they will notice.”

“And I,” said Sol, “will ensure external views are constantly fed through into their building. If they look out of their windows they will see your world as it is, albeit with a two nanosecond delay.”

Clara began to slide down the plican's tank and Johnny and Alf caught her. She'd fainted. “I shall take Miss Clara to sickbay,” said Alf, picking her up easily and marching toward the lifts.

Johnny and Clara had explained to Sol and Alf that the Diaquant wanted them to break their dad out of prison, but everyone agreed the most urgent need was to try to save Louise and Bentley.

So Johnny stood, on the mezzanine level of the strategy room on deck 14, poring over a hologram of the Proteus Institute for the Gifted that Sol had projected onto the large central table
below. He'd marked the corner where the maze met the fence, so that the point of entry glowed red. There was a lay-by on the main road that ran along the front of the grounds, where he hoped they could leave the Jubilee for a while without arousing too much suspicion. Sol had created the projection from satellite images so unfortunately it was only accurate above ground. Johnny guessed a little as he asked Sol to reproduce the layout of the subterranean corridors that had taken them from the sundial at the center of the maze, all the way into the main building—to the space elevator itself. There were underground areas glowing red, marking the points he hoped they'd find Bentley and then Louise.

The door swished open and Alf and Clara entered, arguing. The sight of the miniature buildings in the center of the room silenced them.

“You should be in sickbay,” said Johnny.

“Exactly what I told her, Master Johnny,” said Alf. “I am sure you are more than capable of rescuing your friends while your sister recovers.”

“You've got it wrong,” said a very pale Clara, as she joined Johnny at the front of the overhanging platform. “There are two corridors here,” she said, pointing, “and where we left Bentley is here—not there.”

Johnny considered it for a moment, before seeing that Clara's layout made much more sense. “Yeah … you're right.”

“It's my school isn't it?” said Clara. “You need me there.”

“Look … Sol says you need to rest for at least a week,” said Johnny.

“Exactly,” said Alf, from the foot of the stairs. “You have to look after yourself properly.”

“We haven't got a week,” said Clara. “If you try to stop me I'll just fold my way over anyway.”

Clara's mind was clearly made up. “OK—but try and take it easy,” said Johnny.

“Honestly,” said Alf, climbing to the top of the mezzanine platform. “The Emperor asked me to look after you both. How am I supposed to do that when you spend all your time gallivanting?”

“We'll be careful,” said Johnny. “Promise …” Alf looked far from convinced. “OK then,” Johnny continued. “Here's the plan …”

Johnny had really struggled to get to sleep as he chewed over what they intended to do the following morning. A lot could go wrong. And he wondered if Clara was up to it. He wouldn't have known he'd slept at all except he'd dreamt he was back at St. Catharine's, but with his dad there as well as his mum.

“Wake up, Johnny—it's six-thirty,” said Sol softly through the darkness.

“Thanks … I was awake anyway … lights.” Johnny's room gradually brightened as though sunlight was streaming through imaginary curtains. For spaceship quarters it looked especially large and luxurious, although that was partly the effect of having a floor-to-ceiling mirror running the length of one of the walls. He got out of his bed, which folded itself away into the wall, and walked over into the shower cubicle to wake himself up. Then he put on his Melanian clothes and the door slid open as he walked toward it and out into the corridor.