Read Online Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London by Keith Mansfield - Free Book Online Page B

Kovac’s tinny voice through the little speakers. “Signal coordinates identified. Signal frequency identified.” This time the signal position was verifiable on its own.
    â€œKovac,” said Johnny, now properly awake. “Project signal position onto global map.” The screen switched to an Ordnance Survey map with a red dot flashing in the center.
    â€œKovac—identify current location of mobile terminal.”
    There could be no doubt. A blue dot was now flashing less than two miles from the red one. Whatever was going on, it wasgoing on almost right above Johnny’s head. Looking upward, there was nothing to see except a clear blue sky with occasional wisps of cloud. It was going to be a lovely day—perfect for a cup final.
    He wriggled out of his sleeping bag, rolled it up and packed it away, and then looked around in the early morning light. The night before he’d found a grassy field with a few trees round the edge, one of which he’d slept under next to a hedgerow border. He was hungry but knew he didn’t have much money left. A confirmed signal and exact position was just the break he needed—he decided to go straight to the spot where the red dot was flashing. He rummaged around in his bag and found a partly eaten chocolate bar from the train journey. He broke the remainder in half, gave one of the pieces to Bentley and ate the other himself. Then he rolled his neck slowly round a few times till the stiffness went, picked up the bag, and started to walk up a little hill with the shaggy sheepdog, wide awake and trotting alongside him. They reached the end of the field and he climbed a gate into the next one with Bentley just squeezing through a large gap between the bars.
    Although it was early, there was a tall girl in the next field. She looked a bit older than Johnny and was walking a red setter. She had brown straggly hair and wore a green jacket with matching green wellington boots. She’d clearly already seen him climbing the gate so he couldn’t very well go back. Besides, it was grownups he really had to avoid—not kids. Adults watched the news, or at least some of them did. A boy on his own with an Old English sheepdog would be hard to miss if people knew to be looking for him, but he hoped that to her he was just another kid with another dog. The setter was racing over toward Bentley.
    â€œRusty!” the girl shouted, but her dog wasn’t paying her any attention. Bentley skipped away from Johnny and met the otherdog halfway. By the time their owners caught up with them, the dogs already seemed best of friends.
    â€œHe’s lovely—what’s his name?” the girl asked Johnny. Close up she had lots of freckles, which matched the brown collar of her jacket.
    â€œBentley—and I’m Johnny,” Johnny replied before he realized he should probably have given a false name.
    â€œLouise … and she’s Rusty,” said the girl, patting the setter on the head. “What you doing here then?”
    â€œI’m staying with my aunt and uncle,” Johnny replied. He could feel his face turning red and willed it to stop.
    â€œOh. Where do they live?” Louise asked.
    â€œThe main road … er … down near the station,” Johnny said, not having noticed any street names last night.
    â€œOh, Bert and Josie Peterson? They said their nephew was coming to visit.”
    â€œYeah—that’s them,” Johnny replied.
    â€œI made them up,” said the girl, looking down her upturned nose at Johnny. “You slept out in the field last night.” Johnny looked sheepish—he’d been rumbled easily and there didn’t seem any point denying it. Louise continued, “I saw you when I started walking Rusty. Didn’t want to wake sleeping beauty, so I ended up out here.”
    â€œI’m running away,” said Johnny simply.
    â€œAnd you ran away to Yarnton