Molly, 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
