The Dragons of Ordinary Farm

Chapter 27

C olin Needle had to admit he was a little nervous.

It wasn’t sneaking across Ordinary Farm by night with a stolen dragon’s egg that was worrying him-he’d been preparing to do this part for days, and had been back and forth over the route with an appropriately sized rock in his backpack a half-dozen times, practicing until he knew every potential hazard, with or without a flashlight. No, it was the way the stakes of the game had been raised that worried him.

First off, Colin had never wanted to make a deal with this Stillman fellow. If he had known the true story of Jude Modesto’s important client, he felt sure he would have abandoned the whole project. But he had already given Modesto the chip from Meseret’s previous egg before he found out, and apparently Stillman had tested it and decided it was very, very interesting, so it was too late to turn back.

Still, Colin had to admit that the half-million dollars would make it easier to deal with his own conscience. He would have asked for more, but he needed to be able to carry it back himself, and this way Stillman would be even more eager to come back for such one-of-a-kind bargains-and Colin would supply them to him.

Second, things would have been much easier if Modesto could have waited just a few days more to set up the meeting. The Jenkins kids would have gone back home and Colin’s distraction for Ragnar and Walkwell would have been ready. He had planned to arrange an escape from its pen by the bonnacon, a slow-moving but immensely strong and stubborn bull-like animal that sprayed caustic dung; recapturing it would have taken them most of the night. Modesto’s sudden email demanding the sale take place tonight had meant that he had been forced to improvise instead.

Colin had left a glove (part of a pair he had bought but never used) near the barbed-wire fence out on the edge of the property, then made an “innocent” remark at dinner about having seen a surprising number of cars and other activity out on Springs Road near where he had left the telltale glove. He figured that should keep them busy for at least the first couple of hours of darkness, searching for intruders out at the farthest point of the property from his rendezvous with Jude Modesto. Colin certainly hoped so-he didn’t want to look up and find himself staring into Walkwell’s weird, angry eyes. That man-that goat-horned thing -scared Colin Needle almost as much as his mother did, and that was saying something.

Still, it shouldn’t have been this way. Everything would have been so much simpler without the Jenkins kids. Sure, it had been occasionally interesting to have people his own age around the farm, and Lucinda was okay, but Colin Needle had big plans and having Gideon’s relatives around just made things more difficult.

He stopped to rest on top of a hill beyond an abandoned barn where he could look back toward the house. All good so far, no more than the ordinary number of lights on, Gideon’s study and bedroom, the kitchen, a few along the porch and the other outside doors. So much of the house was unlighted at night that most of the time you couldn’t even begin to guess at its immense size. Only on bright, moonlit nights like this one could you see the array of roofs, the covered arcades and outbuildings, and the unusual silo and tower rooms that made Ordinary Farm look like some strange Oriental palace.

And it’s going to be my palace someday, he thought with no little satisfaction. Because I’m the only one who really cares about it-or at least I’m the only one with any sense. Any guts.

He heaved up the backpack. The egg was no easy burden, big and lopsided as a partially deflated beach ball, heavy as a sandbag. He got the straps over his shoulders again and made his way down into the shadowy, oak-shrouded valley beside Junction Road, out of the moon’s glare.

Colin hadn’t really expected a helicopter, let alone the biggest helicopter he’d ever seen. Its dark hide gleamed like the shell of a beetle as it crouched on the hilltop half a mile from the road, its rotors lazily turning. It had no markings, but Colin had a feeling that the darker patch on its side was something covering a corporate logo-Stillman’s Mission Software, most likely. His stomach tightened. Several men stood waiting outside the copter’s open bay door.

Colin wasn’t simply going to walk up to them with the treasure in his hands, of course. He wasn’t a fool. He’d read plenty of spy novels and seen plenty of movies and he knew all about double crosses. He’d even thought about one of his own, substituting something for the real dragon egg before selling it, so he certainly didn’t trust Jude Modesto not to cheat him. While he was still in the shadows he took off the heavy backpack and hung it over the branch of a tree, high enough to be almost impossible to see in the dim light, and counted the trees as he fol lowed the deer path to the edge of the clearing and out into the open.

“You’re late,” said Jude Modesto. The fat man was trying to sound like an important fellow who’d been kept waiting, but he wasn’t very convincing. Stillman and his two bodyguards stood by the copter, the same two huge men who were only a couple of bad haircuts and two pairs of Lycra shorts away from looking like professional wrestlers.

“You changed the meeting time,” Colin said flatly. “It wasn’t easy for me to rearrange things.” Unlike Modesto, Colin knew that the less emotion you put into your voice, the less you had to worry about giving away how you really felt. Which, in his case, was nervous. He’d just noticed that both of the bodyguards were wearing holsters over their dark shirts. Holsters with guns in them.

Well, Needle, he reminded himself, you wanted to play with the big boys.

“And this must be… your client,” Colin said out loud, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to know what Ed Stillman looked like. But before Modesto could reply, the silver-haired man in polo shirt, shorts, and hiking boots pushed himself away from the steep side of the helicopter-it looked even bigger from up close, like a flying battleship-and stepped forward. He looked as though he was coming to shake Colin’s hand, but his own hands never left his pocket.

“And this must be the enterprising young man you told me about, Jude,” said Stillman. “He reminds me a little bit of myself when I was that age, I must say.” He smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “I’m very interested in what you claim to have to offer.” Up close, in the light from the chopper, he looked older than on first impression. Colin found himself wondering whether despite his easy, graceful movements, Stillman might be older than Gideon. “And I’m just as interested to know where you got it.”

“Uh-uh,” Colin said, trying to sound calm but tough. “I don’t claim, I don’t explain. That was part of the deal-no questions. I know you checked out that sample or you wouldn’t be here. Where that sample and the sale item both came from is a secret. Put it this way-it came back from a very special expedition.”

“And where is… the sale item?” asked Ed Stillman, as if he’d seen all the same movies and read the same books.

“Where’s the money?”

The client laughed. “Deuce-the suitcase?”

One of the bodyguards reached into the helicopter and produced a briefcase. He snapped it open and held it out. Colin could see nothing but rows of Ben Franklin’s face-one-hundred-dollar bills in bound piles.

“Five hundred thousand, right?” said Stillman.

“Please, Mr. St… I mean, please, sir, let me handle this!” Jude Modesto flapped his hands in frustration. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is done,” said Stillman, then he turned to Colin with a wide smile. “So do we have a deal? You can count the money if you want.”

Colin reached out and lifted up a bundle at random, fanned it as he’d seen in many films, then put it down and tested another. His heart was beating so fast he thought he might not be able to speak, so at first he just nodded. “Looks fine,” he said at last, gruffly.

“Then take it. Where’s my… sale item?”

“I’ll go get it.” Colin closed the briefcase, gripped its handle tight, and started toward the trees. “I’m not going to run off with the money,” he told Stillman. “I promise.”

The man in the polo shirt laughed again, as if this was turning out to be far more entertaining and enjoyable than he’d ever hoped. “No tricks, then? All right, I’m glad to hear it. And if you give me what’s promised, you’ll get to keep that suitcase and the money in it. After all, that’s how men like us do business.”

Colin hurried to the trees, trying to remember if he’d done everything right. He’d held back the egg until he’d seen the money. He’d checked the briefcase to make sure it wasn’t just a few real bills on top of bundles of cut-up newspaper or something-and here it was in his hands! Half a million bucks! All he had to do now was get the money into the bank. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain it to his mother and Gideon when he suddenly produced enough money to save the farm, but he didn’t have to come up with an explanation right away. He could always claim he’d won the lottery. His mother might not believe it, but she’d know better than to start making a fuss about it, and Gideon would be too grateful to ask many questions.

Take that, Jenkins kids! he thought as he counted his way to the tree where the backpack hung. One in the eye for you, eh! Maybe he’d even let them come visit sometimes once Gideon was gone and the farm was his. After all, it was better to keep your enemies close-and quiet. Tyler and Lucinda Jenkins were now part of a very elite group, the tiny number of people who knew the important secrets of Ordinary Farm.

Well, knew some of the important secrets. Colin grinned.

He almost left the briefcase with the money in it back in the trees, but couldn’t bear to think of it being out of his hands that long. Instead he dangled it awkwardly from his fingers as he struggled to carry it and the heavy backpack to the helicopter.

“Here it is,” he said as he reached Stillman, who took the egg from him. The helicopter’s blades were turning a little less lazily now, as if the great crouching thing were waking up.

Stillman looked inside the backpack. “Good,” he said. “Now, get in.”

Colin stood waiting for Modesto and the client’s bodyguards to do as their boss had ordered, then realized that the billionaire in the khaki shorts was looking at him. The smile was still there, but it didn’t come close to reaching the man’s eyes.

“I said, get in.”

“What are you talking about?” Colin took a few steps back, but a huge hand curled around his bicep. One of the bodyguards had moved in behind him. “What’s going on?”

“ We’re going on,” said the billionaire. “And you’re coming with us. I’ve got lots of questions to ask about your pal Gideon Goldring and what he’s been doing here all these years in the middle of nowhere-and you’ve got lots of answers you’re going to give me.” Stillman chuckled and patted the side of the helicopter. “Besides, wouldn’t you like to ride on this baby, Colin? It’s a LePage S-99, you know. Top of the line-they make basically the same model for the military. You’ve heard of a Thunderbird gunship, haven’t you?”

“But you said no tricks!”

The billionaire rolled his eyes. “Come now, Colin-you’re a big boy. What kind of crap is that, ‘no tricks’? Since when do people dealing in illegally smuggled dinosaur eggs-and of an undiscovered saurian, to boot!-since when do people doing things like that trust each other? Give me a break! Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, ‘There’s no honor among thieves’?”

“But you’re a businessman!”

“I take back what I said earlier-you don’t remind me of myself at all. I don’t think I was ever that naive, even when I was in elementary school.”

Jude Modesto came forward, his face beaded with sweat that gleamed in the light spilling from the helicopter’s interior. “Sir, you never said anything about this. This is… this is kidnapping.”

“Only if our friend here wants to file charges. But I’m betting that one way or another, he won’t. Either he’ll like the deal I’m going to offer him-and it’s a good deal, one where he’ll get to keep at least that half a million-or something will happen to him and no one will ever find out where he went. Make sense?” He nodded to the man behind Colin. “Let’s go.”

The briefcase was taken gently from his hand, then Colin Needle was shoved, stumbling, toward the open door of the helicopter.