The Case of the Vanished Sea Dragon by Gareth P. Jones Page A

last time she had heard that sound she had been planning an escape from William Scrivener School. She spun round to find a security camera pointing at her. She ran to the door and desperately tried the handle, but it was locked. She tried to find a blind spot, where she could vanish, but the camera followed her every move. She couldn’t risk being seen blending. There was nowhere to hide. All she could do was sit and wait to get discovered.
    â€˜This is your fault,’ she said to the cat, but the animalremained perfectly still except for the gentle movement of its breathing.
    When the door opened she looked up at the security guard. She recognised the black bushy moustache instantly. It was Hamish Fraser, the same guard she had encountered while trying to escape from William Scrivener’s.
    â€˜It is you. Ah wasn’t sure from the picture on the monitor,’ he said in his familiar Scottish accent. ‘What a wee world it is. What brings you here, Ah wonder?’
    Holly thought fast. ‘I came to find a toilet. I must have gone through a wrong door.’
    â€˜Nice try,’ said Hamish, a grin spreading beneath his moustache. ‘You accidentally stumbled into a maximum-security building looking for the lavvy? You’ll have to do better than that, lassie.’
    â€˜Why aren’t you at the school?’ asked Holly.
    â€˜The school’s shut for summer. Ah work here for a few months of the year. Ah’m on the late shift. Ah’m noh so keen on being locked up with all these wee animals, but thanks to you, it’s already proving more exciting than I’d expected.’
    â€˜Where’s Bruno?’ asked Holly, remembering how Hamish had tried to train his poodle to be more aggressive.
    â€˜Bruno? In this place?’ said Hamish, gesticulating towards the cat. ‘He’d have a field day.’
    â€˜What’s wrong with this cat?’
    â€˜Don’t you worry about the cat, come on.’ The security guard tightened his grip on Holly’s shoulder and frogmarched her out.
    â€˜Can’t you just let me go for old time’s sake?’ she pleaded.
    Hamish laughed a loud throaty laugh and said, ‘The last time Ah saw you Ah was trying to stop you breaking out. This time you’ve broken in. You’re a right wee criminal in the making, aren’t ye?’ He led Holly up the stairs. At the top he said, ‘In you go,’ and pushed the door open.
    The room she walked into was a stark contrast to the rest of the building. Instead of white walls and a tiled floor, it had dark grey walls and a plush green carpet. In front of her was a desk, made entirely from glass, behind which Brant Buchanan was sitting. At first she thought he was alone, but she turned to see, at the other end of the room, her dad sitting on a purple sofa, staring at her, his anger evident in his eyes.
    â€˜The irrepressible Holly Bigsby,’ said Mr Buchanan, standing to greet her.
    She avoided eye contact with her dad but could feelhis furious glare burning a hole in the back of her head.
    â€˜Your father is angry with you, but I am impressed,’ said Mr Buchanan. ‘When I designed his laboratory I knew that ill-informed animal activists and prying investigative journalists would try to get in. So there are no windows on the ground floor and these on the upper floor only open a couple of centimetres. Both entrances, front and back, are under constant surveillance. The roof is made out of a synthetic material too strong to be cut by any conventional tool. No one has ever got further than the silver gates without my say-so. Except you.’
    Holly said nothing.
    â€˜What really annoys them, you see,’ continued Mr Buchanan, ‘is that for all their protests and leaflets and slogans, they have absolutely no idea what we do here. For all they know we’re making marmalade.’
    â€˜You don’t make marmalade,’ interjected Holly.