The Great and Dangerous by Chris Westwood

Author:Chris Westwood [Westwood, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781781010778
Publisher: MBI

By the time they returned from her Saturday clinic, I’d decided to tag along to keep Mum happy. Still a little shaky as I came off the stairwell and out to the path, I took one look at his car and nearly keeled over.

The white Cadillac limousine, long and sleek and gleaming, more than whispered money – it screamed it. A gang of hoodies had gathered round to admire it, checking their reflections on its polished surfaces. A rear window purred open and there were Mum and Tom, smiling out at me.

‘Hop in, make yourself at home,’ Tom said. ‘How are you, sonny? Your mum tells me you’ve been out of sorts.’

‘A bit better, thanks.’

‘That’s good.’

The limo’s interiors smelt of new leather and were spacious enough for a coach party. I settled at one window, Tom at the other, while between us Mum shivered with pleasure.

‘Isn’t this something?’ she said. ‘I’ve never been so spoiled. Don’t forget your seat belt, Ben.’

‘Say hello to Hector,’ Tom said. ‘Hector, here’s Ben.’

‘Pleasure,’ said Hector. The driver, fiftyish with an olive complexion and bristly silver hair, nodded at me in the rear-view mirror.

‘So how did it go?’ I asked Mum.

‘The clinic? Couldn’t have been better. The nurse was amazed! Said she’d rarely seen such good progress. I’m her star patient.’

‘Brilliant news!’

‘There are still some questions about my white cell count, though, so they’ll keep a close eye on me and of course I’ll have to keep attending.’

‘Still, it sounds really promising.’

The limo was already moving, but I hadn’t realised until then. It was like moving on air, not a hint of a bump or a dip on the road. The hoodies, who’d lined up at the roadside to watch us go, turned away towards London Fields.

‘Glad you could make it, Ben,’ Tom said. ‘Just say if you need anything. We’ll do our best to make you comfortable. Here’s a little thing to keep you entertained on the way.’

Mum’s eyes twinkled as Tom reached for whatever it was on the seat beside him. She knew what was coming, but I still wasn’t especially interested, at least not until he held out the gift, and then my jaw hit the floor.

‘Take it,’ he said, passing me a copy of Detective Comics issue 27 in a sealed plastic wrapper.

On the front cover the caped crusader swung from a rope above Gotham City, one arm locked around the neck of a criminal in a green pin-striped suit. Starting this issue, the cover said, the amazing and unique adventures of The Batman!

My hands trembled as I held it. The comic looked new, unopened and unread, but it couldn’t be an original. Mint originals were rarer than rare, highly sought after by private collectors and selling for astronomical prices. A genuine 1939 Detective Comics #27 in top condition would be worth more than most houses, many times more than the Cadillac we were gliding along in.

‘Don’t worry,’ Tom said, ‘I know what you’re thinking. It’s a 1970s reprint, although even those are hard to come by these days.

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