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‘That’s very quick of you,’ he said. ‘Carlos is known to MI5.
I suspected he was responsible for your kidnapping.’
    ‘How did you know where to find the key to the handcuffs?’ Jack asked.
    Fleming said nothing. He accelerated towards a group of men assembled under a streetlight.
Scarlet cried out. They were the same men Fleming had supposedly shot back at the
factory.
    ‘Those were blanks,’ Fleming said, producing his weapon. ‘But these are not. Now
we know that you and Ignatius Doyle know nothing about X-29, I believe we can dispose
of you. Some kind of accident will do.’
    Jack threw himself across the seat, grabbing the gun.
    Bang!
    The windscreen shattered as the car veered across the road, sideswiping a building.
The car careened into the three men at the corner, knocking them into the air like
they were rag dolls.
    Fleming swore, reaching into his jacket as they skidded to a halt.
    Scarlet screamed, grabbing her leg. Fleming had jammed a needle into her.
    ‘Run!’ she told Jack, her eyes rolling up into her head. ‘You’ve got to…’
    But Fleming had now stuck the syringe into Jack’s arm. Within seconds the world had
turned grey and then black.

CHAPTER TEN
    Jack dreamt he was on a ship, the deck moving under him, gently rolling to one side
and then the other. The ocean was calm, but in the distance he saw black, bulbous
clouds. He needed to turn the ship away, but the steering wheel did nothing: the
ship continued towards the oncoming storm, the waves building. One broke over the
deck, drenching his face.
    He had to get off this ship. But where was Scarlet? She had been here too. He frantically
searched the deck. She can’t have fallen overboard. Where was she? Where—
    Another burst of spray struck his face. Choking, he blinked his eyes and jolted upright
to see Scarlet peering down at him. She held a bucket of water.
    ‘Wake up!’ she yelled. ‘We’re going to crash!’
    ‘What? Is it a reef? An island—’
    ‘An island?’ She dragged him to his feet. ‘We’re on an airship! And we’re out of
control!’
    What?
    He took in his surroundings. They were on an airship, high above the ground. It was
a small vessel, some sort of taxi. Outside, the sky was dark. Lightning flashed at
the windows.
    ‘How did we get here?’ Jack asked.
    ‘Don’t you remember? Fleming knocked us out with some kind of drug.’
    It all came flooding back.
    Jack pushed past Scarlet. A kerosene lamp illuminated the interior, a passenger
area the same size as a rowboat. The bridge was smaller, the engine and coal skip
taking up half the space. The control panel at the front was smashed beyond repair,
the steering wheel missing.
    ‘Why didn’t they just kill us?’ Jack asked.
    ‘An accident in a foreign country would make us look like two foolish kids on a lark.’
    ‘I wish.’
    Jack peered into the gap in the panel where the steering wheel used to connect. ‘If
only we could stick something in there,’ he said.
    ‘There was a Brinkie Buckeridge book where she used the heel of her shoe to steer
a car.’ Scarlet peered at her flat heel in dismay. ‘Brinkie must have worn stilettos.’
    Lightning flashed again and Jack caught sight of an enormous bulk on the landscape.
    ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
    ‘What’s what?’
    Lightning illuminated the scene again, like the flash of a photographer’s lamp, and
they recoiled.
    ‘It’s a mountain,’ Scarlet said. ‘And we’re heading straight for it!’
    ‘We’ve got to turn around.’
    They searched, but found nothing that could help to steer. By accident or design,
there were no tools onboard. If they had water, they could try putting out the fire,
but it looked like Scarlet had used the meagre amount to wake him.
    Jack looked through the rear window. The airship’s propulsion jets jutted from under
the cabin.
    ‘Hand me that lamp,’ he said.
    ‘What are you going to do?’
    Jack pulled back the carpet, revealing a panel beneath. He opened