The Case of the Stolen Film by Gareth P. Jones Page A

don’t trust him as far as he can throw me.’
    â€˜Nor do I, but that’s not why I’m calling. Have you ever heard of Chase Lampton?’
    â€˜The film director? Yes,’ said Dirk. ‘He directed one of my favourite films,
The Big Zero
. He never made anything as good since, but that one was a classic.’
    â€˜Well, he’s making a new film now, only one of the cameras caught something in the desert first thing this morning.’
    â€˜What kind of something?’
    â€˜Dragons,’ said Holly.
    â€˜Rats in pyjamas!’ exclaimed Dirk, sitting up. ‘This is serious. Where’s the film?’
    â€˜No one knows. It’s been stolen.’
    â€˜You were right to call. We can’t let that film stay in human hands,’ said Dirk. ‘The way things work these days that evidence could be all over the Internet by lunchtime. Then it’s game over.’
    Dirk took down the phone number and address of where Holly was staying and committed them both to memory. Holly said what she knew about where the film had been made and then she told him about their amazing journey to America and how Chase had asked her and Archie to be in the film too.
    After saying goodbye Dirk put down the receiver, opened a desk drawer and pulled out Mrs Klingerflim’s copy of
Dragonlore
, flicking to the chapter on Desert Dragons.
    The Desert Dragon is different from other subspecies of dragon in that it spits a deadly poison rather than breathing fire. The poison is a potent acid that will cut through the strongest material, fell a mighty tree or kill any creature in seconds. However, Desert Dragons can only hold one dose of poison at a time, which takes them around twenty-four hours to produce. So once the poison is used up all you have to worry about are the teeth, claws and hundreds of spikes which cover their bodies.
    Dirk placed the book back in the drawer and considered the best way to get to America. Flying, swimming or taking the lithosphere tunnel would take too long. If there was a possibility that the film was being watched by a human, he had to move fast. Dirk switched off the TV and headed downstairs.
    He stopped outside the kitchen, where Mrs Klingerflim was clattering about preparing her dinner, humming along to some old crackly jazz that was coming from her tinny radio. She held down a button on top of her oven, creating the hiss of gas and a clicking noise, but failing to light the hob.
    â€˜Bother to this old thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, Mr Dilly, excuse my language. I didn’t see you there.’
    â€˜Let me help you with that,’ said Dirk.
    She stood back. Dirk leant over the hob and sent a tiny flicker of flame from between his two front teeth, lighting it. Mrs Klingerflim smiled and placed a pan of water on it.
    â€˜Thank you, Mr Dilly,’ she said. ‘Off out, are you?’
    â€˜I’ve got a case out of town so I wanted to let you know that the rent may be a little late and that I won’t be around to help.’
    â€˜Oh, don’t worry about that,’ said the sweet old lady. ‘I’ve always got Mr Blandford. He pops round sometimesto help out. He put up these shelves.’
    â€˜Sounds like you’ve got an admirer,’ said Dirk, winking.
    â€˜Oh, Mr Dilly, don’t be daft,’ said Mrs Klingerflim, blushing and changing the subject. ‘Are you going anywhere nice?’
    â€˜California,’ replied Dirk.
    Mrs Klingerflim smiled wistfully. ‘California. How lovely. I went there with Ivor once, you know. Stunning scenery.’
    â€˜Dragon-spotting?’ asked Dirk. All of Mrs Klingerflim’s holidays with her late husband, Ivor, had been research for the book.
    â€˜Oh yes, those Californian Desert Dragons are very territorial but beautiful movers. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of one, mind.’
    â€˜I’ll bear that in mind,’ he said. ‘No skydiving