'Damn,' he thought, taking two steps back. With seemingly no other option, he sprinted forwards, crossing his arms in front of his face as he hit the glass, reinforcing his very being with the same mantra he'd used in THAT rugby match. A huge SMASH of epic proportions, followed by the sound of rushing air washing over him, startled him momentarily. He'd known when he jumped that he'd have no time to revert back to his natural form, not that it had ever really been an option. Even at this time of night, there would have been too many people about to take the risk. With the ground rushing up at him fast, he wondered what kind of damage he'd incur if he weren't a dragon. A long stay in hospital was all that he could come up with as he bent his knees, preparing for impact. Even with the mantra it hurt, as he carried his momentum forward into a roll, choosing his left shoulder to take the brunt of the collision. Stumbling to his feet, he looked back up at the hole he'd made in the glass above, just able to make out two gruff faces looking back out at him. It was time to leave, and so he sprinted across the road leading up the hill to the museum, cut between two giant trees, hurdled a barbed wire fence into a farmer's field, all in the pitch black, thanks to his infra red vision. Halfway across the field he threw himself to the ground, the soft squelch of something big and runny thumping against his stomach.
'Oh great,' he thought, catching the smell of what it was. Turning his head towards the road that ran parallel to the field, he could just make out two officers in a police car speeding up the road, the blue flashing lights casting an eerie reflection out across the field. As soon as the car had passed he took off as fast as he could, the cow pat running like a river down his front. He ignored it.
Ten minutes later he was back in the village, lurking in the shadows, having run all the way. During his run back, he'd made up his mind to leave. First though, he wanted his stuff back. Luckily his room on the first floor had a balcony, the very reason he'd chosen this particular guest house. That was how he'd slipped out unnoticed earlier. Sneaking up the driveway, around the side of the building and into the garden, he tucked the precious metal behind the drain pipe's base before shinning up it to the balcony. Quickly and quietly he gathered up his things, unlocked the door to his room and then headed back towards the balcony, not before leaving sixty pounds in crisp twenty pound notes on the dresser. Leaping back down onto the lush grass in one clean go, he retrieved the metal and headed for the nearest entrance to the dragon domain, a wishing well at the back of a magnificent stately home, only a short walk away.
With the metal tucked away in his giant backpack and his camera dangling around his thick neck, he watched rock face after rock face whizz by from the comfort of the monorail carriage he was in. Able to take a breath now, something he didn't seem to have done since he'd left the museum, sadness ran through him at having caused so much damage. Racking his brain to think of a way to make it up to them, the only option he could come up with was an anonymous donation. Vowing to do just that later on in the week, he wondered if the strange piece of metal would unlock the clues to the puzzle they were trying to solve. With all his heart he hoped so.
32
Stash Crashed
Russian dragons had been squirreling it away for some time now. Previously it had been stored secretly beneath the Kremlin, but an order had come in out of the blue to move it to a new location. Strange really, but fortuitous at the same time. If that much laminium had been in the Kremlin when the bomb there had gone off, there would have been nothing left of Moscow or the surrounding countryside for at least thirty miles in every direction. It would have made Nagasaki look like a drop in the ocean.
Currently the valuable stash of the incredibly rare and impossibly hard to extract metal which the Russians had built up over a number of decades, was on its way to its fourth safe storage facility in the same number of weeks. Disguised as a beat up old ambulance well past its best, the inside was state of the art, temperature controlled, lead lined, all surrounded by a carbon fibre/titanium mono filament wall which was impossible to break into without the handheld computer tablet (one of a kind) to access the security lock. In all... very well protected indeed. Unfortunately, not everyone was aware of this.
They'd had their instructions, only a few hours earlier as it happened, and were aware of the danger, but there was nothing they wouldn't do for their king. Told it wouldn't be long now before he was back, and they could exact their revenge, they would, as a race, of that there could be no doubt. So they powered on down the hill on the perfectly straight, snow covered road, heading for the all important intersection.
"Take it easy," observed Vlass, gazing across at the speedometer from the passenger side of the cab.
"Easy for you to say," replied Slodge from the driver's seat. "It wasn't me that forgot to warm the engine up, which incidentally has now led to us being a tad behind schedule."
"Alright, alright. You know what I mean. And you know full well that some of that snow on the road is ice. All it takes is one slip and..." he let his words trail off. They both knew what he meant. One way or another, they would be dead. Worse still, they would have put their monarch's life in jeopardy as well.
Easing his foot off the accelerator just a touch, Slodge kept his eyes glued to the road in front of him out of the windscreen. Perspiration poured from every part of him, ironic really given that they were in one of the coldest parts of Russia, which even in the summer was still much colder than most countries' harshest winters.
Five miles later, they crested the brow of the biggest hill they'd seen so far. With the dazzling sunlight cutting through the bright blue sky like a knife through butter, shining straight into their cab, the two of them could just make out a small town in the distance. Old and decrepit buildings, most wooden, some brick, lay strewn about in an awkward pattern. The centre seemed to be built around the intersection of the road they were on and another thick set trunk route. A bar, a café and a convenience store all merged together in this confined space. Off to one side, a building of some sort had recently been demolished. On the ground where it had once been, there now stood a mobile crane, a huge yellow beast, metal feet deployed either side of it, with two thick built men encased in its glass cabin, one talking urgently on a phone, the other wielding the various controls. One or two locals scuttled along the main street, most sensibly staying inside.