Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery (19 page)

M
olly, Micky, Petula, Lily, and Malcolm sat in Black's Mercedes as he drove it to Northolt Air Base. There was very little traffic on the roads.

“These puddles are dangerous,” said Black as the car's wheels cut through one, spraying the pavement and dousing the underside of the car. “They're more like little ponds.”

“I think we're traveling too light,” Micky complained. “Malcolm, are you sure we'll be able to find places to stay? I mean, we're heading for the Andes Mountains and for the jungle. I feel like we should have more than just our normal clothes and a parka.”

“Think of it as an adventure, Micky,” Malcolm replied. “I agree it would be nice to have properly
packed suitcases with changes of underwear and socks, but there just wasn't time. Besides, we can get everything there. We can use jeeps and guides and eco lodges.”

“Eco lodges?”

“They're like tiny hotels, usually with huts for rooms, that don't damage the jungle and the environment. They use solar power and collect their own water from the mountain rainfall. They compost their rubbish and have their own sewage systems.”

“With sawdust loos?” Molly suggested.

“That sort of thing,” Malcolm agreed. “Anyway, they are properly set up with snake-venom antidotes, medicine, and food and water. We really don't need anything. The waterproofs you have on now are fine for this expedition. T-shirts, sweatshirts, and sneakers are good.”

Molly felt comforted by Malcolm's military background. He had been on lots of expeditions, and he knew how to make shelters, how to collect drinking water from dew, how to forage from the wild, and how to hunt. So even if worst did come to worst, they'd survive. He spoke Spanish, too, so there wouldn't be a language barrier in Quito, the large town they were flying into.

From Quito, the plan was to get a helicopter to the
small high-altitude village near the start of the Coca River. Then they could begin their search for the spring and the Logan Stones—and Miss Hunroe and her horrible friends.

“Have you got any matches in the car?” Micky asked Black. “Probably do, since you like the odd cigar.” Black nodded and reached into the glove compartment as he drove. Finding a packet, he chucked them over his shoulder to Micky, who stuffed them into his parka pocket.

“Thanks.”

“So you don't trust me?” Malcolm smiled. He loved a challenge, and he loved to work in a team. Discovering that Molly was not an alien had been a disappointment at first. But he had taken on this new mission with zeal. He was a good man and understood the prospect for the world if Miss Hunroe and her evil friends weren't stopped. Full of gusto and determination, he was now fully focused on his new job.

Molly and Micky, on the other hand, were very nervous. Rain pounded on the roof above them. The car's wipers were battling with the weight of water that sluiced down the windshield. And every crash of thunder gnawed at their confidence in the plan. But neither voiced their worry, for this trip was necessary and unavoidable now. Petula kept her head under
Molly's arm, where she could pretend the lightning wasn't real. She didn't feel safe, though. For she sensed and smelled the nerves in the car, and the uneasiness was infectious.

Lily sat between Molly and Micky, uncharacteristically quiet, zipping and unzipping her padded parka and patting her trousers. She and Black had had a big argument before they'd left the hotel, for she had wanted to go on the trip.

“Don't be daft, Lily,” her father had told her. “It's far too dangerous for you. And you don't like flying even in good weather!”

After an hour of driving, Black pulled into the parking lot of Northolt Air Base. Moments later, Malcolm was inside the building with Molly at his side. He had called his superior, AH1, who, fascinated to meet an alien at last, was ready and waiting. Molly did the rest. AH1 was quickly hypnotized, and he procured them an army plane. He efficiently obtained permissions for the plane to take off and for Malcolm to fly it.

Within half an hour, Molly, Micky, Petula, and Malcolm found themselves on board a silver army plane.

Molly and Micky were in its doorway, waving down to Black, who stood, umbrella over him, on the runway tarmac. Lily wasn't with him. Furious that she had
been banned from the trip, she had huffed a good-bye and stayed in the car.

“Good luck!” Black shouted, and gave them a big thumbs-up sign.

As if in answer to their apprehensive prayers, the skies had quieted and the rain had died down so that now it was merely spitting outside. Malcolm sat in the cockpit, with a dashboard of electronic screens and bright symbols in front of him. It was quite beautiful, Molly thought, getting a first-class view of it from her front seat. Micky sat beside her with Petula on his lap. They watched with fascination as Malcolm made fastidious safety checks, clicking switches and pressing buttons.

Behind Molly and Micky, the rest of the plane was airy and spacious. It was an aircraft equipped to carry thirty soldiers sitting along its sides. Their equipment, rucksacks, and parachutes would normally have been firmly strapped onto the high racks in the top curves of the plane's torso. But today there were only a few parachutes hanging at the stern of the plane. They were like ripe fruit, ready to pop open.

Halfway along the aircraft was a galley that Malcolm had organized to be quickly stocked with some meals and drinks. “Everyone should drink lots of water on a long-haul plane trip,” Malcolm had said. Molly
was already sipping at a glass of concentrated orange squash. Micky had cracked open a can of the fizzy drink Qube.

The plane had been kitted out, too, with duvets and roll-out mattresses, so even though it would be a ten-hour flight, Molly, Micky, and Petula could sleep for most of it.

It was only Malcolm who had to remain awake. Molly felt sorry for him. She could see why he had made himself a thermos of coffee. And she admired how he had changed into official pilot mode. He wore earphones now and was talking to ground control about the weather ahead and about the flight path they were to take.

“Okay, crew!” Malcolm's voice came over the intercom. “You'll be pleased to hear that the weather has calmed down enough for takeoff. The runway is all clear, so buckle up. We're heading out.”

The aircraft began to taxi toward the main runway. Once on it, Malcolm drew the throttle back, and the plane picked up speed. In five seconds, the aircraft had accelerated sufficiently to lift. Malcolm pulled the steering controls toward him, and with a tilt they were up in the air. Molly looked out the side window and watched the land and the glittering yellow, orange, and white lights of Northolt drop away behind them.

The plane shuddered as its powerful engines pushed it upward. Its insides shook and rattled. Then they came to the first tower of rain-filled cloud. The plane bumped its way up through it, like a motorboat setting out over high waves.
Bump, bump,
the plane bounced on the thermals of air that crowded the sky. But Molly wasn't too worried. She knew that the bumps were a bit like the uneven ground a jeep had to drive over when it was off-roading. She knew the aircraft was built to fly through bumpy air.

“I once read about pilots who had to fly war planes in
terrible
weather,” Micky shouted, trying to make his voice heard over the noisy engines, “and land on
tiny
aircraft carriers in open seas.”

The plane tilted to the right as it turned.

“Are you okay with flying?” Micky asked Molly.

“Yes,” she shouted back. “There's more chance of me winning a twenty-million-pound lottery than of this plane crashing. If ever I get nervous when I'm in a plane, I just imagine filling in a lottery ticket. I always get that I-couldn't-possibly-win feeling, and in the same way that I know I'm not going to win the lottery, I know I'm not going to crash, either.” Petula hopped over into Molly's lap, and Molly hugged her. “Don't worry, Petula, it'll be fine.”

This part
was
fine, Molly thought. She just hoped
the weather didn't turn bad on the journey. Because this plane
had
to make it. If it didn't, the world's weather would be turned upside down and inside out. Millions would probably die. As the plane walloped its way up through the clouds, Molly hung on to this thought. And the idea that she, Micky, Petula, and Malcolm were on a mission to save millions gave her strength and courage.

Finally the plane leveled out, and Malcolm came over the intercom again. His voice was crackling and hard to hear.

“Folks, we're now cruising at forty-eight thousand feet. The storm is below us and so won't bother us at all. Relax, get some sleep. I'll wake you an hour before we arrive at Quito.”

Molly looked at her watch. It was two
A.M
. She was exhausted. If she fell asleep now, Malcolm would wake them in about nine hours, an hour before they landed. This would be eleven in the morning the next day London time, but of course, because Quito was five hours behind London, it would be six in the morning there.

Molly and Micky undid their belts, and finding their balance as the plane moved, went to the back to sort out their beds. Petula shook herself awake and began to sniff the air. Oddly, as they approached the
back of the aircraft, she began to smell popcorn. Before she could give a warning bark, Molly gasped. For there, crouching behind the duvets and pillows, looking pale as a glass of milk, was Lily Black.

“Lily!” Molly exclaimed. “What are
you
doing here?” Lily got up and nervously glanced toward Malcolm in the cockpit, who hadn't seen her yet.

“I want to come!” she said determinedly. “I
know
I can help. And I want to show my dad that I'm not just a useless baby. I am seven and a quarter, you know. And I
am
brave.”

“Jeepers!” said Micky.

“Please,” Lily went on. “
Please
let me come.”

“How did you get on board?” Molly asked, amazed.

“Sneaked on when you were checking your equipment, just before the plane stairs were taken away.”

Molly tilted her head. “Pretty good, Lily,” she said.

Lily bit her lip and nodded. “So can I stay?” she asked.

“Your dad will be out of his mind with worry, looking for you,” Micky said.

“Are you going to tell Malcolm to take me back?”

Molly shook her head. “We can't go back now, because we may not be able to land or take off again if we do.” She gave Micky a look of resignation. “So, Lily, it looks like you're part of the team.”

“Welcome on board,” Micky said.

Malcolm radioed to ground control to inform Theobald Black that his missing daughter was on the plane to Quito.

Molly, Micky, and Lily laid out their beds on the aircraft's humming floor. And with Petula snuggled close to them all, they fell asleep.

 

Miss Hunroe settled down to sleep in her wooden forest hut. Special incense to ward off mosquitos burned in a small hearth so that the air was heavy and perfumed. The door was open to the jungle so that she could see out into the night. The afternoon cloud had lifted, and the sky was a magical canopy above, an inky blackness studded with stars. Owls hooted and nocturnal animals called to one another. Insects sawed the pure mountain air with their song.

Miss Hunroe leaned back on a pile of pillows and patted her silk-enrobed knees. She liked the sound of nature. How wonderful it would be when the world was rid of people, when many more places would resound with only the sound of nature. Sometime soon she would completely master weather control, and she alone would be able to cause chaos just where it was needed. People were ruining the planet with their noise and their filth. Cities were spreading like
cancers. The governments of the world were useless at sorting it out. They were lucky that she and her organization were taking matters into their own hands. A handful of typhoons and tidal waves, a score of hurricanes and tsunamis, some droughts and floods, and it would be done.

Miss Hunroe sneered at how many horrid little people lived on the Earth. Six and a half
billion
people were crowded onto the Earth, she knew. If, by using the weather stones, a few billion could be wiped off, then that was a result! Miss Hunroe could have trillions of acres of it all to herself! Swathes of magnificent countryside! Of course, she'd have to make sure that certain places weren't disturbed. It wouldn't do to wipe out all the airports, for instance. For Miss Hunroe wanted to be able to continue traveling to her favorite places, and her jets would need somewhere to land. And she wanted certain cities to be left unscathed. Beautiful, cultured cities like Venice, Rome, Florence, Prague, St. Petersburg, London, Madrid, and Paris.

It crossed her mind that she'd given Paris to one of her minions. Well, she had a right to change her mind. She'd give away a grotty town in northern France instead. Paris would be
hers
. She would keep her favorite cities in tip-top condition, with wonderful hotels for her to stay in, fabulous restaurants for her to eat
at…and every one of her chosen cities would have lots of expensive stores for her to shop in. And she did so adore her trips to museums and galleries!

Just then the satellite telephone rang, shattering her reverie. She lifted the receiver. On the other end, someone garbled down the line. It was Miss Suzette.

“Why didn't you call before?” Miss Hunroe inquired angrily, her voice low and furious. She listened for a reply. It seemed Miss Suzette was equally cross with Miss Hunroe.

“How dare you be so impertinent?” Miss Hunroe spat. “I was up the mountain, out of touch. No, the satellite phone only works at base camp. But what I want to know, Miss Suzette, is
how
did they get in? You were supposed to be on guard.” Miss Suzette garbled her defense. “But,” Miss Hunroe said, “the night watchman was hypnotized not to let anyone past. And the command was locked in with a password.” Miss Hunroe frowned as Miss Suzette replied. “And you can't hypnotize him at all?” There was another gap as Miss Suzette spoke. “Well, the obvious thing to do is get rid of him. You should have already done it. A little accident on the stairs will do.” There was a pause. “Well, if he's calling the police, you had better get out of there right now.”