Half Moon Investigations - Eoin Colfer [57]
I couldn’t even begin to imagine what a promise like that meant. But it obviously had a strong hold on Red.
‘OK. But don’t touch the actual wires and don’t let them touch each other. That much I do know for sure.’
Red switched off the light and handed the torch to me. He then yanked the supply cable from the clips holding it to the wall and ceiling.
‘OK,’ he said, holding the cable away from his body. ‘What next?’
I trained the torch on him. ‘Well, in theory, maybe, I turn on the switch, then you zap the bar. That should do it. If I were you, I wouldn’t stand in front of the pointy end of that horn. You never know where the electrical charge will send it.’
‘You could zap it,’ suggested Red.
‘True,’ I admitted. ‘But we’d have to wait a couple of weeks while I worked up the nerve.’
Red took a deep breath. ‘OK. Zap time. Just touch it?’
‘Yes. I think. I’m no expert. But there may be some jittering.’
‘Jittering? What do you mean?’
‘You know, when the power flows into the horn. Try to hold it steady.’
Red swallowed. He was nervous but determined. ‘OK. Flick the switch when I give you the sign.’
‘What sign?’
Red took a moment out from being nervous and determined to deliver a withering comment.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I’ll say something like, “Flick the switch.”’
‘Right. I’ll see if I can remember that.’
Red knelt beside the spike, making sure the copper wiring inside the cable had a firm contact with the metal horn.
‘Right, Half Moon. Flick the switch!’
Every muscle and tendon in my body was tense. My shoulders hunched and my eyes squinted. My toes and fingers locked and all the injuries of the past few days returned to chip away at the pain centres of my brain.
I flicked the switch. And nothing happened. Red might as well have been rubbing the horn with a twig.
‘Is that it?’ he asked.
‘Eh… Keep it there for a minute.’
I walked over to him. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Sorry, I was nervous.’
‘No. Not that. Do you hear a buzzing sound?’
Red leaned closer to the unicorn’s horn. ‘Maybe. I think it’s just the wire scratching the metal. My hand is shaking a bit. But don’t…’
‘I know. Don’t tell anyone.’
Red threw down the cable. ‘So is this magnetized now?’
I studied the horn in the torchlight. It looked exactly the same.
‘I dunno. Give it a try.’
‘And I won’t get a shock?’
‘Allegedly not,’ I said, covering myself against a possible lawsuit.
Red poked the horn with a single finger.
‘It’s a bit warm. I think.’
He fluttered his fingers over the metal, then grasped it gingerly.
‘No shock. Let’s test it.’
Red hefted the spike and crossed to the door.
‘Shine the light here, Half Moon,’ he said.
I shone the beam on the door. There was a damp line across the centre.
‘That must be where the bolt is,’ I said. ‘Water gets trapped behind it and seeps through over the years.’
‘Oh, the brains,’ said Red, insincerely I suspect.
He placed the fat end of the horn against the water mark’s edge and drew it slowly to the left.
‘Try it,’ he ordered, stepping back.
I pushed. No joy.
‘No joy,’ I said.
Red swore. Then. ‘Stupid, stupid idea. Making magnets. We need something else, Half Moon.’
‘There is nothing else, Red. Try again.’
Muttering choice phrases, Red did so, and miraculously, amazingly, unbelievably, on the other side of the door, the bolt started to scrape back.
‘Slow, now, slow. Don’t lose it.’
‘What are you? An expert? Do this every day, do you?’
‘Just go slow. Shut up for once.’
It occurred to me then that I had just told a Sharkey holding a spike to shut up.
‘Your negative energy is interfering with the magnetic flow,’ I said pathetically.
‘Grrr,’ said Red. Growling was not good, but it was better than thumping. He went slowly, drawing the bolt back inch by inch. We could hear it scraping along the outside of the door, like a metal thing scraping along a wooden thing.
Finally there was a clunk and the door sagged a fraction.
‘Open,’ said Red. ‘I’m finding this difficult to believe.’
We pushed open the door and there was May, with one