Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London by Keith Mansfield

rescue you.”
    â€œRescue me? What from?” asked Clara and then, looking at Louise, “Who’s she? Is she OK?”
    Louise didn’t look OK. She was holding onto the sundial for support and her face had become as pale as Johnny’s and Clara’s. “I’m looking for Peter … Peter Dalrymple,” she said. “They took him a month ago.”
    Clara scrunched up her face, concentrating hard. “Short, brown hair—posh boy?” she said. Louise nodded. “Yeah—hewas here,” Clara continued. “He didn’t last long.”
    â€œThey killed him?” Johnny and Louise asked together.
    Clara put her hands on her hips. “What is it with you two? Don’t be silly—he wasn’t good enough.” Johnny and Louise exchanged dark glances. “Look,” said Clara, “it’s very competitive at Proteus: ‘fitter than the fittest.’ I’ve lasted longer than anyone. He’ll have gone off to Triton.” When neither Johnny nor Louise showed any sign of understanding her, Clara added, “It’s another school—I think it’s in Wales.”
    Louise didn’t look convinced. She turned to Johnny. “Peter’s gone—you’ve found her. C’mon let’s go, before the pigs find us.”
    â€œWho are the pigs?” Clara asked.
    â€œPigs in suits,” Louise said urgently. “They take kids and bring them here.”
    â€œI rather think she means us.” The voice belonged to a tall man in a black suit who’d just walked into the central clearing.
    â€œStevens!” Johnny recognized the man from his mum’s hospital.
    Stevens smiled coldly at him. “Johnny Mackintosh flies straight into our spider’s web,” he said, before sticking a finger in his ear and adding “both children are secure … with an unwanted stray from the village. Request permission to terminate … thank you.” Stevens turned toward Louise and pulled a weapon out from a holster inside his suit. “You know you’re not meant to come here, silly girl.”
    â€œNo!” Clara shouted. Louise was rooted to the spot by the sundial, but Clara ran between her and Stevens and shouted, “What on earth are you doing?”
    â€œIf only you knew, Miss Clara,” Stevens said coldly. “Out of the way.”
    â€œI won’t,” Clara said, stubbornly refusing to move. “Don’t hurt her.”
    â€œShe doesn’t concern you. Now your brother’s decided tocome and visit us you’re going on a little journey. People in high places are very interested in him. And you’ll be the icing on the cake.” Clara didn’t budge; Stevens squeezed the trigger of his weapon and a beam of green light shot past her shoulder, just missing Louise and setting fire to a hedge behind. Before the man could take aim again, a gray and white missile hurtled at him from behind, knocking him to the ground.
    â€œBentley!” shouted Johnny. The sheepdog wrestled with Stevens, shaking his head from side to side. Stevens, his suit being torn to shreds, managed to get both hands around Bentley’s neck and began to throttle the dog while lifting him away. Then Rusty appeared, clamping her jaws onto Stevens’s arm. There was a horrible sound—a sharp snap from beneath the blur of canine limbs—that echoed along the valley. Rusty jumped away and ran from the clearing, while Bentley stood over the motionless figure.
    â€œQuick—we’ve got to get out of here,” said Louise. “They’ll all be coming now.”
    â€œI’m not going anywhere till you tell me what’s going on,” said Clara, looking anxiously at Stevens’s limp body. “You might have killed a Protector. I’ve never met you before, you breeze into my school giving orders …” She looked at Louise, “…