Read Online Night on Terror Island by Philip Caveney - Free Book Online
Authors: Philip Caveney
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spend a bit of time with one of his favourite movie stars, knowing that he had the Retriever with him to get him out of trouble if anything should go wrong? Mind you, the next scheduled film at the Paramount,
Terror Island
, wasn’t the kind of movie he’d be in a great hurry to visit. If actors dressed as flesh-eating Neanderthals were going to turn into
real
flesh-eating Neanderthals, he frankly didn’t want to be involved.
Still, it was something to think about for the future – and the more he thought about it, the more appealing it became. He even thought about telling Beth what had happened, but chickened out at the last minute, telling himself she’d think he’d lost it big time.
Meanwhile, Dad had started asking some awkward questions.
‘Have you any idea where Mr Lazarus lives?’ he asked Kip on Wednesday night, while they were waiting for the first customers to arrive.
‘Er … no.’ Kip could feel his face colouring. ‘I’ve never asked.’
‘Well, I have. I keep asking him for an address and phone number, just in case I need to get in touch with him, but every time I do, he finds some excuse not to give it to me. And … have you noticed how he’s always the last to leave? He always seems to have a bit of fine-tuning to do up in that projection room.’
‘It is great though, isn’t it?’ said Kip, desperate to change the subject. ‘The Lazarus Enigma, I mean.’
‘The what?’
‘Er … that’s what he calls the special equipment. As good as digital, I reckon.’
‘Sounds like something out of a James Bond movie,’ said Dad. ‘But the results
are
amazing.’ He’d watched the film on Monday night and, like everyone else, had been astonished by the quality of the image. ‘It’s weird,’ he said. ‘I mean, have you
looked
at that equipment?’
Kip played it cool.
‘Yeah, I’ve glanced at it.’
‘It’s like something that’s been put together in a garden shed. God knows how it does what it does.’
‘It’s an enigma,’ said Kip, remembering something that Mr Lazarus had said to him. ‘Hence the name.’
Dad gave him an odd look.
‘I think you’ve been spending too much time with him,’ he said. ‘Now listen, Kip, I need to go home a little early tonight. Your Mum and I have some stuff we need to discuss.’
Kip shrugged his shoulders.
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I can sort out things here.’
‘Thanks, Kip. I appreciate it.’
Dad headed home at about nine-thirty, leaving Kip to clear up. After the audience had gone, he went into the auditorium and did a quick check on the seats, throwing the worst of the rubbish into a black bin bag.
He was just finishing up when the door of the projection room opened and Mr Lazarus came out. He strolled down the steps to the centre of the cinema, his hands in the pockets of his fancy waistcoat.
‘A good night, I think,’ he said. ‘The auditorium looked pretty full.’
‘Best in ages,’ Kip agreed. ‘Dad was made up. By the way he was asking questions before. He says he needs an address from you.’
‘He’ll get one,’ said Mr Lazarus.
‘Yeah. Just so long as it’s not, “The Projection Room, Paramount Picture Palace”. I don’t think he’d be too happy about that.’
‘No, I don’t suppose he would.’ Mr Lazarus smiled. ‘By the way, my collector friend was very pleased with John Dillinger’s hat. It’s going to take pride of place in his collection.’ He lifted his gloved hand and a brown envelope appeared in it.
‘How do you
do
that?’ asked Kip.
‘It’s just a little bit of magic,’ said Mr Lazarus. He handed the envelope to Kip. ‘And that’s a little something for your trouble.’
Kip opened it. It contained six crisp ten pound notes.
‘Oh … I’m not sure I can take this,’ he said.
‘Why not? You earned it. Buy yourself something. Some new trainers, perhaps?’
Kip looked at Mr Lazarus. Only the previous day, he’d asked his mum about a new pair of trainers he’d
Terror Island
, wasn’t the kind of movie he’d be in a great hurry to visit. If actors dressed as flesh-eating Neanderthals were going to turn into
real
flesh-eating Neanderthals, he frankly didn’t want to be involved.
Still, it was something to think about for the future – and the more he thought about it, the more appealing it became. He even thought about telling Beth what had happened, but chickened out at the last minute, telling himself she’d think he’d lost it big time.
Meanwhile, Dad had started asking some awkward questions.
‘Have you any idea where Mr Lazarus lives?’ he asked Kip on Wednesday night, while they were waiting for the first customers to arrive.
‘Er … no.’ Kip could feel his face colouring. ‘I’ve never asked.’
‘Well, I have. I keep asking him for an address and phone number, just in case I need to get in touch with him, but every time I do, he finds some excuse not to give it to me. And … have you noticed how he’s always the last to leave? He always seems to have a bit of fine-tuning to do up in that projection room.’
‘It is great though, isn’t it?’ said Kip, desperate to change the subject. ‘The Lazarus Enigma, I mean.’
‘The what?’
‘Er … that’s what he calls the special equipment. As good as digital, I reckon.’
‘Sounds like something out of a James Bond movie,’ said Dad. ‘But the results
are
amazing.’ He’d watched the film on Monday night and, like everyone else, had been astonished by the quality of the image. ‘It’s weird,’ he said. ‘I mean, have you
looked
at that equipment?’
Kip played it cool.
‘Yeah, I’ve glanced at it.’
‘It’s like something that’s been put together in a garden shed. God knows how it does what it does.’
‘It’s an enigma,’ said Kip, remembering something that Mr Lazarus had said to him. ‘Hence the name.’
Dad gave him an odd look.
‘I think you’ve been spending too much time with him,’ he said. ‘Now listen, Kip, I need to go home a little early tonight. Your Mum and I have some stuff we need to discuss.’
Kip shrugged his shoulders.
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I can sort out things here.’
‘Thanks, Kip. I appreciate it.’
Dad headed home at about nine-thirty, leaving Kip to clear up. After the audience had gone, he went into the auditorium and did a quick check on the seats, throwing the worst of the rubbish into a black bin bag.
He was just finishing up when the door of the projection room opened and Mr Lazarus came out. He strolled down the steps to the centre of the cinema, his hands in the pockets of his fancy waistcoat.
‘A good night, I think,’ he said. ‘The auditorium looked pretty full.’
‘Best in ages,’ Kip agreed. ‘Dad was made up. By the way he was asking questions before. He says he needs an address from you.’
‘He’ll get one,’ said Mr Lazarus.
‘Yeah. Just so long as it’s not, “The Projection Room, Paramount Picture Palace”. I don’t think he’d be too happy about that.’
‘No, I don’t suppose he would.’ Mr Lazarus smiled. ‘By the way, my collector friend was very pleased with John Dillinger’s hat. It’s going to take pride of place in his collection.’ He lifted his gloved hand and a brown envelope appeared in it.
‘How do you
do
that?’ asked Kip.
‘It’s just a little bit of magic,’ said Mr Lazarus. He handed the envelope to Kip. ‘And that’s a little something for your trouble.’
Kip opened it. It contained six crisp ten pound notes.
‘Oh … I’m not sure I can take this,’ he said.
‘Why not? You earned it. Buy yourself something. Some new trainers, perhaps?’
Kip looked at Mr Lazarus. Only the previous day, he’d asked his mum about a new pair of trainers he’d
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