Dan and the Dead by Thomas Taylor Read Free Book Online

I haven’t forgotten what’s expected of me. They’re going to want to see some yabbering with spirits and that, and then I’m going to have to come up with a grave to rob, full of gold teeth and silver shoe buckles. The yabbering I can do. Guaranteeing the loot though, that’s the tough bit.
    â€˜I hope you know what you’re doing,’ says Si, close by my side.
    â€˜S’cool,’ I say aloud, and Bagport obviously thinks I’m talking to him.
    â€˜You’re one creepy kid, you know that?’ he says.
    â€˜Hey, it’s not me who wants to dig up skeletons,’ I say, and Ringpull cuffs me round the noggin.
    I’m expecting to go on a tour of the graveyard like before, so it’s a surprise to find myself round the backof the church, standing next to a dry little wooden door. Bagport’s got a torch with some tape over that throws just enough light to see by.
    One of Bagport’s men steps forward and pushes something into the ancient lock. It looks like a tool, the something does, and I see the man’s shoulders struggle for a moment. There’s a muffled grinding sound and then a ‘pang!’ of breaking iron as the man manages to turn the lock with brute force. The door falls open and a couple of bits of twisted metal hit the floor.
    I’m shoved inside.
    What happens next is one of the weirdest moments I’ve ever experienced.
    Bagport climbs up into the pulpit and leans there, looking like a Las Vegas preacher in his shiny suit, while Ringpull shoves things back off the altar and grunts himself up to sit on it. With a clank, he puts some heavy-duty tools down beside him, though he keeps the camera in his hands. The driver and the lock-breaker pull out guns and stand either side of the small door, which is obviously going to be my only escape route.
    â€˜Right, kid,’ says Bagport. ‘There’s no end of posh graves in this place. All you’ve got to do is do whatyou did last night, and we can all go home happy. Even you.’
    Then they’re just waiting there, watching. It’s my cue, I guess.
    It’s gloomy in the church, but my eyes are getting used to it, and there’s Bagsy’s torch. I take in my surroundings, holding the golden cage in front of me like I’ll be selling ice creams at the interval.
    The church is obviously very old, and there are inset sculptures and wall-plaques that I know – thanks to History Harris – go back to the Middle Ages. I wonder what made Bagport pick this place. Does he happen to know there’s something here? Is this some kind of test? It’s a scary moment, especially with the gleam from four pairs of eyes watching me.
    â€˜Daniel, look at this,’ says Si.
    He and the other ghosts are standing beside the tomb of a knight. It’s long and low, and the old boy has a small dog by his feet and a sword held in one hand on his chest. Some historic vandal has smashed his face in – people in the past always seemed to be breaking stuff – but you can still see he’s wearing a coronet.
    I raise my eyebrow at Si.
    â€˜If you are planning one of your last-minute surprises,’ he says, ‘you had better set it in motionnow, because there’s almost no chance of finding any actual treasure here.’
    â€˜I’ve just got to get them all occupied, that’s all,’ I whisper. ‘This tomb should do it. Thanks, Si.’
    â€˜But what
is
your plan?’
    â€˜The camera,’ I hiss. ‘Round Ringpull’s neck? If we can distract them with a ghost, maybe I can get it and can take some pics of
them
. Then if I can get out of here, and get it to the police…’
    â€˜That is a great many “if”s’, Daniel,’ says Si.
    â€˜Just keep on your toes and get ready to back me up with your party trick, okay?’
    â€˜Yes, but I’m bound to say – ’
    â€˜Speak up, Spirit,’ I cry out