Read Online Dan and the Dead by Thomas Taylor - Free Book Online

wait a few more.’
    â€˜Eh? What do you mean by that?’
    Si looks a bit flustered.
    â€˜I misspoke,’ he said. ‘All I meant was that I would wait.’
    â€˜Oi, cut out the luvvie duvvies, you pair of muppets!’ says Ems. ‘You’re not old enough to go to prison, dipstick, they’ll probably just give you a hard time with questions. Maybe an ASBO for your mantelpiece. You can put all the blame on Bagport, no problem. I mean, you’re hardly going to chain
yourself
to a dead magician’s skull are you?’
    â€˜Well, no,’ I say. She’s right.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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!’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.

15
THE GHOST OF A CHANCE

    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 electronicstuff 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