The staircase led to a door that took us onto the roof and before we knew what had happened we were out beneath the stars with a freezing January breeze whistling around us, reminding us we’d be much warmer inside. Unfortunately, Fido was also inside, and given a choice between catching a slight cold and being ripped to pieces, I knew which I preferred. Without even stopping to catch breath, we set off across the roof. Surely there had to be another way down.
Then two things happened at once. The dog burst through the same door that we’d just taken. That was when I realized it was rabid. White foam was pouring out of its mouth, and its eyes were bulging and discolored. At the same time, Harry King appeared. I wasn’t sure where he had come from but he was suddenly there, making his way toward us, and he was holding something in his hand. He raised it, pointing it in our direction.
“It’s a gun!” Tim shouted.
To be fair to him, he was trying to protect me. I mention this only because it was Tim who nearly killed me. Thinking that Harry was about to fire, he rugby-tackled me to the ground. The only trouble was that there was no ground. At that moment, we were right on the edge of the building, and with a certain sense of surprise I realized that, in his attempt to protect me, my big brother had just thrown me into thin air with a twelve-story fall and a concrete pavement waiting for me below. I was also aware that Tim was coming with me. I don’t quite know why, but part of me was glad that we were going to be together at the very end. This seemed an unusually stupid way to die, even by Tim’s standards. I’d have hated to do it on my own.
But we didn’t die. You’ve probably guessed what happened next. I saw the flagpole and managed to grab hold of it, and at the same time, Tim managed to grab hold of me. And that’s how this all started (you can go back to the beginning if you’ve forgotten) with the two of us dangling in the air like a couple of comedians in those old black-and-white movies except without the honky-tonk piano and the laughing audience.
I don’t think I’d have been able to hold on for more than about thirty seconds. My hands felt like they were being pulled off my wrists. My feet felt like they were being pulled off my ankles. My shoulder blades and spine weren’t doing too well, either. Looking down, I could just make out my big brother, swaying in the breeze. And looking up . . . ?
Well, suddenly Harry King was there, leaning over the edge. The dog was with him. But neither of them was trying to kill us.
“Hold on!” Harry shouted. He lay on his stomach and reached down with one hand and I felt his fingers close around my wrist. I could tell at once that he was incredibly strong. It was like being seized by a crane. And then, inch by inch, he was pulling me up—and Tim with me. My fingers found a grip on the edge of the building and I was able to help him, pulling myself over the top. At the same time, Harry got a stronger grip under my arms. He was panting with the effort. The dog—still foaming at the mouth—was wagging its tail. This was all very strange. We weren’t being chased anymore. We were being saved.
I felt solid ground underneath my chest, then my thighs as I was pulled onto the roof. Tim came with me. As soon as I was safe, Harry reached past and helped him up the rest of the way. Down below, I could hear the police cars pulling in. There was the thud of car doors and feet hitting the pavement. Somehow I knew that the ordeal was almost over. But I still didn’t quite know what it was all about.
“Are you okay?” Harry demanded. Looking at him close-up, I could see that he was a friendly, pleasant sort of man. But then, he had just saved my life, which may have helped change my opinion. He certainly wasn’t carrying a gun. What Tim had seen was actually a walkie-talkie . . . and it made my head spin to think that this had been enough for him to throw both of us over the edge of a twelve-story building.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
I didn’t answer. Too much had happened too quickly. Then the first police made it up onto the roof and I was almost grateful when we were both placed under arrest.
There’s not a great deal more to tell.
I suppose I should start with the man who had come to the office and who had told us his name was Charles Underwood. It wasn’t. The real Charles Underwood visited us in our cell and he turned out to be silver-haired, about five foot three, and Irish. He wasn’t very happy, either. Because while Harry King had been chasing us, while the police had rushed up to the roof and arrested us, someone had slipped into his office and stolen his precious Double Eagle coin.
I only had to explain it all to Tim five or six times before he understood. The fake Underwood was the thief. Somehow he’d got a key to the building—which he’d given to us—but he hadn’t been able to get past the security system in order to crack the safe. So he’d used us as a diversion. We’d been spotted by CCTV cameras the moment we entered—that was how the police had got there so quickly. We’d set off the alarms. We’d been chased onto the roof. And while everyone was busy dealing with us, he’d had ample time to open the safe and make off with the contents.
And while I’m tying up the loose ends, I might as well mention that Harry King had never been in prison, and his dog, Lucy, didn’t have rabies. When Tim had ducked into the men’s toilet, he had picked up a bar of soap and that was what he had thrown as we ran for the stairs. The dog had eaten the soap—which was why it was foaming at the mouth.
They never did find the thief. Of course, we gave the police a description, but the man who had come to our office could have been wearing a wig. He could have had padding under his jacket. He must have heard about Tim from somewhere because it can’t just have been luck that had made him choose the most stupid detective in London. Tim had played right into his hands. And of course those hands were wrapped in gloves, so although the police searched our office, they didn’t find so much as a fingerprint. Our visitor had been careful to take his cigarette butts with him too—making sure he left no DNA.
He was one of the ones who got away but that’s what happens now and then. In fact, where Tim Diamond is concerned, it happens quite a lot of the time. A happy ending? Well—I hadn’t been killed. I hadn’t fallen twelve stories and fractured every bone in my body. I hadn’t been chewed up by the dog. And speaking personally, I was perfectly happy with that.
Guys E-Read
Guys Read mysterious stuff. And you just proved it. (Unless you just opened the book to this page and started reading. In which case, we feel bad for you because you missed some pretty thrilling stuff.)
Now what?
Now we keep going—Guys Read keeps working to find good stuff for you to read, you read it and pass it along to other guys. Here’s how we can do it.
For ten years, Guys Read has been at www.guysread.com, collecting recommendations of what guys really want to read. We have gathered recommendations of thousands of great funny books, scary books, action books, illustrated books, information books, wordless books, sci-fi books, mystery books, and you-name-it books.
So what’s your part of the job? Simple: Try out some of the suggestions at guysread.com, try some of the other stuff written by the authors in this book, then let us know what you think. Tell us what you like to read. Tell us what you don’t like to read. The more you tell us, the more great book recommendations we can collect. It might even help us choose the writers for the next installment of Guys Read.
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Biographies
JON SCIESZKA (editor) is the author of numerous picture books, middle grade series, and even a memoir. From 2007–2010 he served as the first National Ambassador for Children’s Literature, appointed by the Library of Congress. Jon is actively promoting his interest in getting boys to read through his Guys Read initiative and website. He lives in Brooklyn with his family. Visit him online at www.jsworldwide.com and at www.guysread.com.
SELECTED TITLES
THE TRUE STORY OF THE THREE LITTLE PIGS
(Illustrated by L
ane Smith)
THE STINKY CHEESE MAN AND OTHER FAIRLY STUPID FAIRY TALES
(Illustrated by Lane Smith)
The Time Warp Trio series
(Illustrated by Lane Smith)
ANTHONY HOROWITZ (“The Double Eagle Has Landed”) grew up in England surrounded by wealth and mystery. He found his escape in the novels and movies of James Bond, and they inspired him to create his famous character Alex Rider. Anthony’s mother gave him a human skull for his thirteenth birthday. He lives in England, and you can find him online at www.anthonyhorowitz.com.
SELECTED TITLES
The Alex Rider Adventures, including SCORPIA RISING
The Diamond Brothers Mysteries, including
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST WEDNESDAY
Copyright
The Double Eagle Has Landed
copyright © 2011 by Anthony Horowitz
Illustrations copyright © 2011 by Brett Helquist
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.harpercollinschildrens.com
* * *
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-0-06-196376-6 (trade bdg.) — ISBN 978-0-06-196375-9 (pbk.)
* * *
EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780062112095
11 12 13 14 15 LP/RRDB 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
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Anthony Horowitz, The Double Eagle Has Landed
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