showing that Drake is changing clothes,” said Hercules. “The tracker egg I placed will be left behind. If we’re going to stay with him, perhaps we should hide ourselves in that travel pod.”
“Logged,” said Nero and Widow.
The three micro-robots scuttled towards the cupboard under the stairs. The old man was shuffling away along the hall. He stopped at a door and knocked gingerly.
“Mr Drake? Are you decent?” Drake emerged wearing a fresh shirt, jacket and trousers.
“I hope you liked your bacon and eggs?”
“I’ve had better,” grunted Drake. “Who was that on the phone?”
“The time has arrived! I’ve been asked to send you on your way to Silverclaw central control.”
“Right, where are we going?” said Drake, marching towards the front door.
“Oh, no, no, Mr Drake,” smiled the old man. “In here.” He opened the understairs cupboard, and pulled out a vacuum cleaner. “I’ll just get this out of your way.”
Drake stared at him, his mouth pulled into a sneer. “What are you talking about? Are you expecting me to crawl into a cupboard?”
“Oh, it’s quite roomy, really,” said the old man. He motioned for Drake to step inside.
Reluctantly Drake bent over and walked into the cupboard. There was a small, battered seat fixed to the rear wall, which looked like it had been salvaged from an old car. The micro-robots were safely hidden under the car seat’s springy base. Widow quickly spun a series of strong web-lines around the three of them, to keep them strapped in place. Drake sat, eyeing his surroundings warily. The inside of the cupboard seemed every bit as tattered and grubby as the rest of the place.
“You’ll need to fasten your safety belt, Mr Drake,” said the old man.
Drake did so slowly, his expression growing more uncertain every second.
“Scans of the earth immediately below us indicate a sudden vertical drop, then a sharp turn to the right,” said Nero.
The old man gently closed the door, then flicked a light switch nearby. Inside the cupboard, there was a sudden clang as metal clamps opened. The seat and a small section of the surrounding floor instantly fell five metres down a narrow tunnel lined with metal, running on rails like a rollercoaster.
Drake screamed in terror as the travel pod swung violently to the right and shot forward.
“A very interesting piece of engineering,” said Nero calmly.
At that moment, the helicopter carrying the stolen weapons was approaching the remote stretch of Scottish coastline where the cottage stood.
“I’m picking up one of Hercules’s tracker eggs,” said Morph.
“Confirmed,” said Sabre. “Calculating location… It’s in a small cottage, a few hundred metres ahead of us. No significant sound or movement close by.”
“He must have tagged Drake,” said Morph. “Could that little cottage really be Silverclaw’s headquarters?”
“Nero, Hercules and Widow are in the area, but their signals are blurred,” said Sabre. “That may be a side effect of stealth mode, or they may be deep underground. The signals are moving at high speed.”
“Hive 1 to Hive 2,” transmitted Chopper.
“Hive 2 online,” signalled Nero from the tunnel. He sent Chopper an update on the events of the past few hours.
“What’s that screaming noise?” said Chopper.
“It’s Drake,” said Nero. “Some humans seem to fear rapid motion.”
“Your transmissions are unclear. Contact us when you can re-establish a secure link.”
“Logged,” said Nero. “Hive 2 out.”
The helicopter began to descend.
“We should leave the helicopter before it lands,” said Chopper. “We can make a full search of the area, and then find a way into Silverclaw’s HQ.”
“Logged,” replied Sabre.
They scuttled down to a hatch at the base of the cargo hold, which led to the landing gear. Morph squeezed into the tiny gap at the edge of the hatch. He expanded and twisted his gelatinous exoskeleton, forcing the hatch to pop
“Logged,” said Nero and Widow.
The three micro-robots scuttled towards the cupboard under the stairs. The old man was shuffling away along the hall. He stopped at a door and knocked gingerly.
“Mr Drake? Are you decent?” Drake emerged wearing a fresh shirt, jacket and trousers.
“I hope you liked your bacon and eggs?”
“I’ve had better,” grunted Drake. “Who was that on the phone?”
“The time has arrived! I’ve been asked to send you on your way to Silverclaw central control.”
“Right, where are we going?” said Drake, marching towards the front door.
“Oh, no, no, Mr Drake,” smiled the old man. “In here.” He opened the understairs cupboard, and pulled out a vacuum cleaner. “I’ll just get this out of your way.”
Drake stared at him, his mouth pulled into a sneer. “What are you talking about? Are you expecting me to crawl into a cupboard?”
“Oh, it’s quite roomy, really,” said the old man. He motioned for Drake to step inside.
Reluctantly Drake bent over and walked into the cupboard. There was a small, battered seat fixed to the rear wall, which looked like it had been salvaged from an old car. The micro-robots were safely hidden under the car seat’s springy base. Widow quickly spun a series of strong web-lines around the three of them, to keep them strapped in place. Drake sat, eyeing his surroundings warily. The inside of the cupboard seemed every bit as tattered and grubby as the rest of the place.
“You’ll need to fasten your safety belt, Mr Drake,” said the old man.
Drake did so slowly, his expression growing more uncertain every second.
“Scans of the earth immediately below us indicate a sudden vertical drop, then a sharp turn to the right,” said Nero.
The old man gently closed the door, then flicked a light switch nearby. Inside the cupboard, there was a sudden clang as metal clamps opened. The seat and a small section of the surrounding floor instantly fell five metres down a narrow tunnel lined with metal, running on rails like a rollercoaster.
Drake screamed in terror as the travel pod swung violently to the right and shot forward.
“A very interesting piece of engineering,” said Nero calmly.
At that moment, the helicopter carrying the stolen weapons was approaching the remote stretch of Scottish coastline where the cottage stood.
“I’m picking up one of Hercules’s tracker eggs,” said Morph.
“Confirmed,” said Sabre. “Calculating location… It’s in a small cottage, a few hundred metres ahead of us. No significant sound or movement close by.”
“He must have tagged Drake,” said Morph. “Could that little cottage really be Silverclaw’s headquarters?”
“Nero, Hercules and Widow are in the area, but their signals are blurred,” said Sabre. “That may be a side effect of stealth mode, or they may be deep underground. The signals are moving at high speed.”
“Hive 1 to Hive 2,” transmitted Chopper.
“Hive 2 online,” signalled Nero from the tunnel. He sent Chopper an update on the events of the past few hours.
“What’s that screaming noise?” said Chopper.
“It’s Drake,” said Nero. “Some humans seem to fear rapid motion.”
“Your transmissions are unclear. Contact us when you can re-establish a secure link.”
“Logged,” said Nero. “Hive 2 out.”
The helicopter began to descend.
“We should leave the helicopter before it lands,” said Chopper. “We can make a full search of the area, and then find a way into Silverclaw’s HQ.”
“Logged,” replied Sabre.
They scuttled down to a hatch at the base of the cargo hold, which led to the landing gear. Morph squeezed into the tiny gap at the edge of the hatch. He expanded and twisted his gelatinous exoskeleton, forcing the hatch to pop
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