The Case of the Stolen Film (5 page)

‘It's most kind of him,' said Big Hair.

‘As you already know, Global Sands is a very generous employer,' said Weaver. ‘If there is nowhere else for the boy to go, you can bring him with you.'

‘But what about passports? What about parental permission? We're not the child's legal guardians,' squawked Big Hair.

‘Passports are no problem,' said Weaver dismissively. ‘And I shall see to it personally that there are no problems with taking the boy. Global Sands has a great deal of influence.' He looked Big Hair directly in the eyes. ‘Alternatively you can stay to sort out the boy's welfare while your husband and daughter go ahead without you.'

‘Of course Archie should come with us,' said Big Hair quick as a flash. ‘He's almost one of the family now.'

Holly felt something rub against her leg. She picked up Willow. ‘What about her?' she asked.

‘I'll arrange for your neighbours to look after her
while you're away,' replied Weaver.

‘Right, that's it settled, then,' said Mr Bigsby, clapping his hands together. ‘We're going to America.'

With those words Holly and Archie felt all the awful reality of the evening disappear, lost beneath a wave of excitement.

‘And you have ten minutes to pack your bags,' said Weaver.

Brant Buchanan stepped out of the car on to the wide San Franciscan road outside a laundrette.

‘Long way to come to do your washing,' joked his temporary chauffeur.

Buchanan checked the address against the one Weaver had written down for him.

‘Stay here,' he said, entering the building.

Inside, two large black ladies were folding sheets. They stopped as he entered and turned to look at him. In his designer clothes and expensive shoes, Brant Buchanan clearly wasn't their usual customer.

‘Can I help you, honey?' one of them said.

‘I'm looking for Frank Hunter,' he replied.

The women looked at each other then burst into hysterics. Brant Buchanan felt a rare sensation of discomfort.

‘That's two people, sweetie, and they're through that door,' said the other.

‘Thank you,' replied Mr Buchanan, walking the length of the laundrette and finding a door with a piece of paper pinned to it. It read:

Frank Hunter Inexplicable Investigations Please knock before entering

Brant turned the handle.

‘Aren't you going to knock?' asked the first lady.

‘I'm expected,' he replied, stepping into a dark room and shutting the door behind him.

‘Nooo!' cried a voice inside.

Outside the two ladies were hooting with laughter.

A light came on and a man with long black hair and a goatee beard stood in front of Brant, holding a blank piece of photographic paper and looking distraught.

‘Man,' he moaned. ‘Have you never heard of knocking?

‘I'm sorry, I understood you were expecting me.'

‘Expecting you to come barging into my dark room
and ruin the picture I was developing? Why would I expect something like that, man?'

‘My name is Brant –'

‘And my name's Frank,' interrupted the man, ‘but what's that got to do with this non-knocking policy of yours?'

‘Frank, man, cool it, this is Brant Buchanan, the English dude I told you about,' said a second man, entering the room. This one had lighter hair and an under-chin beard. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Buchanan, sir. Sorry about Frank. He gets tetchy. I'm Hunter. I'm the one who spoke to your colleague. I'm really pleased to meet you, man.' He extended his hand.

Brant Buchanan tentatively shook it. ‘I'm sorry about your friend's picture. I didn't know anyone developed pictures these days. I thought it was all digital.'

Hunter laughed. ‘Yeah, well, Frank likes to do things the old-fashioned way. I keep telling him to go digital.'

‘Was the Loch Ness monster caught on digital? Were Big Foot or the Roswell alien on digital? No, man, none of them were,' said Frank, picking up a pile of photos from one of the messy workspaces that surrounded the room. He held out three blurry black and white pictures that Buchanan recognised as apparent
sightings of unexplained things.

‘That's because digital hadn't been invented then, man,' said Hunter.

‘Or had it?'

‘Not this again,' sighed Hunter.

‘It's what I believe, man,' said Frank.

‘Not in front of guests,' insisted Hunter. ‘Remember, we have a rule.'

Frank hesitated.

‘No, please, I'm an open-minded man,' said Buchanan. ‘That is why I'm here after all. Say whatever you have to say.'

‘See,
he's
open-minded, man,' said Frank.

Hunter sighed.

‘I believe that digital photography was created in order to stop us from finding out the truth,' said Frank. ‘Unlike old-fashioned technology it was created by – and is now being controlled by – super-intelligent aliens that live right here on earth with us, man.' He whispered this as though someone might be listening.

‘And where are these aliens?' asked Mr Buchanan.

‘They're all around us,' Frank whispered. ‘They're cats, man. You should see the way they look at me. They know I know.'

‘Frank, man,' interrupted Hunter, ‘you sound crazy
when you talk like that.'

Brant Buchanan began to edge towards the door. ‘I'm sorry, I think I've made a mistake.'

‘No, man, don't go,' said Hunter. ‘It's just Frank. He's perfectly fine except for the alien cats thing. You want to know about dragons, don't you?'

Buchanan paused. ‘Do you know who I am?'

‘Of course. You're Brant Buchanan, the seventh richest man in the world. You founded Global Sands, the most awesome multinational company in the universe, man.'

‘This is Brant Buchanan?' said Frank. ‘Why didn't you say so, Hunter?'

‘I tried, man, but no, you had to tell him your whole cats-are-aliens thing. Man, you should keep that stuff for your film scripts.'

‘Let me make myself clear,' said Mr Buchanan. ‘I have recently become interested in dragons. I don't care about aliens or vampires or things that go bump in the night. I'm not interested in any conspiracy theories on how the government covers things up because, believe me, no government in the world has any secrets from me, but a man in my position can't afford to let anyone find out that I'm in business with gentlemen such as yourselves. My stock would
plummet. We live in a world of non-believers, my friends. People would think I had gone mad if they thought I believed in dragons. Help me gather information discreetly and you will be handsomely rewarded.'

Frank put the photos down. ‘Yeah, well, I could be wrong about the cats, I suppose,' he said.

‘You want stuff on dragons?' said Hunter.

‘Yes, I want stuff on dragons,' replied Buchanan.

For Holly and Archie it didn't seem quite real. Weaver had driven them to Heathrow Airport, where, without delays or queues, they boarded a luxury private jet, which took them to America.

After take-off, Holly and Archie spent the first couple of hours running around the plane, looking at all the cool stuff. When Holly's dad told them to sit still, they played computer games then decided to watch a film.

‘I could get used to this,' said Archie.

‘It certainly beats being stuck inside that house,' said Holly, lying back in her comfy bed, with her head on the soft pillow. The film was one she had really wanted
to see but she only managed to watch the opening credits before her exhaustion caught up with her and she was asleep.

When she awoke, the captain was announcing that they would be landing shortly in Los Angeles, where the local time would be 5 a.m.

‘If you look over to your right, you can see the deserts of California,' he added.

Holly looked out of the window sleepily. The sun was rising in the sky, reddening the barren landscape. She thought about Dirk. She would phone him when they arrived and tell him where she was.

When the plane landed, there was no messing about with customs or passports. They simply went straight through to the car park, where a black stretch limo was awaiting them.

‘You'll be staying in the Hollywood Hills,' said Weaver.

‘Where they make all the films?' said Holly.

‘You won't be far from the major studios,' he replied matter-of-factly.

Big Hair could barely contain herself.

‘Wow, this is real star treatment,' she squealed.

The limo took them to the city. Seeing a street sign saying ‘Hollywood', Holly was surprised to see that, in
spite of the palm trees that lined the roads, the area actually looked quite ordinary and grubby.

‘Hey, you're Holly in Hollywood,' said Archie.

Then they headed up a winding road and the houses got bigger and more how Holly had imagined Hollywood would look. They came to a set of gates, which opened automatically. At the end of the driveway was a large white house with columns along the front and an upstairs balcony.

‘This is where you'll be staying during your time here,' said Weaver.

When the car stopped, Holly and Archie burst out and ran to the house. It looked like part of a film set – too new and clean-looking to be a real house. Weaver opened the door. Inside, a central staircase led to a landing and four large rooms, all of which had doors that opened on to the balcony.

Archie pushed one wide open and stepped out. The vast city was laid out before them, bathed in the soft early morning light.

‘Nice view,' he said.

‘Try this one,' replied Holly. She was standing at the corner of the building looking the other way, up the hill. Archie joined her and saw what she was looking at.

Above them were nine giant letters set in the hills that spelt HOLLYWOOD.

‘I imagine this sort of thing happens to you all the time,' said Archie.

‘Oh, every day,' replied Holly.

‘I may have to call my agent about my latest role,' said Archie.

‘Me too. I need a much bigger part,' said Holly.

‘Hey, I wonder if we're next door to anyone famous.'

They tried to see into next door's garden but the houses were designed so you couldn't see in from the balcony. Archie suggested they try looking from one of the trees next to the fence.

As they ran downstairs into the garden, they passed Big Hair who shouted, ‘Stop running around, this isn't a playground.' Ignoring her, Holly and Archie found a climbable tree in the garden, and went up.

Next door looked more like a fairytale castle than a house. It had cherub-like gargoyles and turrets and it was painted bright pink. The patio door was open and a girl's voice cut through the air.

‘I don't care what anyone else says,' said the girl. ‘My mum's exec-producing this film and she agrees with me. We need to reshoot the birth scene with
me playing myself …'

‘Who do you think it is?' whispered Archie.

Holly knew exactly who it was. The patio door opened and Petal Moses stepped out. She was sporting a pink tracksuit and holding a phone to her ear.

‘… Yes, I realise I would have been a baby, but I'm not having some other actor, baby or not, stealing my first scene … I'll be playing myself … Of course I know I don't look like a baby …' she yelled. ‘That's why they call it acting, darling. Besides, Mum says there's new technology where they can make me look like a baby if necessary … Chase says it's fine … Chase Lampton, the director, sweetie … Look, just drop the baby and let me know when I'm needed for the scene. OK?'

She switched off the phone and shook her head in frustration. ‘Casting directors,' she exclaimed. ‘What a nightmare.'

‘Morning, Petal,' called Holly cheerfully.

Petal turned to see Holly halfway up the tree.

‘You!' she said. ‘What are you doing here, spying on me? I could have you arrested for invading my privacy.'