Free The Crystal Code by Richard Newsome Page B

and set off across the hangar, kangaroo hopping on its skids.
    â€˜Shut it down!’ Ox screamed. In the confined space of the hanger, the roar of the engine was incredible.
    Gerald scanned the dash of flashing lights. Then his eye fell on the big red button that Ox had first pushed. He said a silent prayer and jabbed at it. The power cut out. The lights died. And the roar of the rotors abated. But they were still bouncing across the floor. A second later there was a sickening jolt and the screech of bending metal as they collided with the second chopper.
    They came to a sudden halt. Silence returned to the hangar.
    Gerald let out a long breath. ‘Maybe the radio isn’t such a great idea after all,’ he said.
    They jumped down from the cockpit to find the two helicopters locked in a tangled embrace. ‘I don’t think these two are flying anywhere for a while,’ Ox said.
    Ruby hurried across to them. ‘Could you two make any more noise?’ She had a daypack slung over her shoulder. ‘I’ve emptied the snack tray from the office into here and we’ve got some cans of soft drink. But unless you can get that radio to work we should get out of here.’
    Gerald reached back inside the cockpit and pulled out an emergency kit with a big red cross on the front. He tossed it to Ox. ‘This could come in handy,’ he said. But before they could make a move, Alisha’s voice cut through the air. ‘Someone’s coming!’
    Gerald, Ox and Ruby dropped to the floor and scurried across to where Alisha and Sam were squatting by the window. ‘I think there’s only one,’ Alisha whispered. ‘I saw the flash of a torch.’
    Gerald was about to poke his head up to look outside when he heard the crunch of boots in the dry snow. Then a beam of light shone through the window.
    The man was right above them.
    Gerald pressed in close to the wall. The beam swept left then right across the floor. It played across the front of the closest chopper. But was it bright enough to see the wreckage beyond?
    The torchlight flicked off and they could hear boot steps tracing around the side of the building. Gerald’s stomach jolted. He hadn’t locked the door after they came in.
    â€˜Hide!’ he hissed, and threw himself towards the door at the rear of the building. He skidded across the floor like he was sliding into home plate. The door was the type with four small windowpanes set in a square in the top half and he could see the glow from the torch as the man rounded the corner outside. Gerald came to a stop just centimetres from the wall. He shot his hand up to the door handle and jabbed the button, locking it.
    A split second later, the handle rattled. The intruder was trying to get in.
    Gerald lay on the floor, making himself as small as possible. A ribbon of cold air blew onto his back from the gap under the door. He tilted his head to look up. A face was pressed to the window.
    A balaclava.
    A dark set of eyes.
    And a gun.
    Gerald held his breath. The torch beam shone through the glass, casting a dim light across the floor. Everything looked deserted. His friends had hidden themselves well. He let out a silent sigh of relief—only to see a puff of vapour escape his mouth and float slowly into the beam of light.
    A second later, the world exploded around him. The thug’s kick demolished the door in a shower of timber and glass shards. Gerald tried to roll clear, but he took the impact hard into his ribs. Then the man was straddling him, grabbing his collar, snatching at his hair.
    â€˜They’re in the hangar!’ the man yelled into a walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder. ‘I’ve got Wilkins!’
    Gerald writhed and kicked. But the man was strong. Then Gerald heard two things in quick succession: Felicity yelling ‘Oi!’ And then a whipping thwack as she swatted the man across the face with a ski pole, breaking his nose instantly.