The Rocket Brothers - The Thief from Baker Street

By Preben Dahl

A mysterious airplane lands in airport on the central part of Denmark. A break-inn shakes a nearby castle. The Rocket Brothers Christopher Dam and his older brother Jonathan find themselves involved in an international criminal smuggler case - and as if that wasn't enough Christopher discovers that he can talk to ghosts. On a school trip to London, he ends up far too close to the headquarters of the thieves, and suddenly he must give all he has to help the police stop the thief from Baker Street.-

• Language: English
• Publisher: SAGA Egmont
• Release date: Oct 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9788711857595

Book preview

Chapter 1: The Ghost Plane

Jonathan Dam took a step back from the table and admired the red model airplane. It was shining in the light of a powerful lamp. His little brother Kristoffer sat on the other side of the table and was eagerly watching. Kristoffer was more than happy with the plane they’d just finished building. The red plane was a copy of a German biplane from World War 1 – the Albatros. The body was 73 centimeters long, and the wings were nearly a meter wide, from the tip of one wing to the tip of the other. They’d spent a month assembling all of the parts and it had been like a complicated jigsaw puzzle. Now they were finally done. It had a gas-fueled motor and remote controlled steering. It was ready to go. Or at least it would be, as soon as Jonathan finished looking it over.

Fantastic! The red color is perfect. Plus it looks like a flying shark. It just looks amazing! Jonathan walked over and patted his brother on the shoulder. It’s definitely ready to fly… but not today. I need to get to work over at the museum’s warehouse. See you later! he said. But we were supposed to fly it today! protested Kristoffer. They’d been working on the plane in the little hangar at Funen’s central airfield in Denmark. Together they ruled over a corner of the workshop that was set up, which they frequently used for their experiments. Jonathan turned briefly on his way out the door. We’ll do it this weekend. Not before!

And then, with a loud slam of the metal door, he was gone. Kristoffer squeezed his eyes shut – the headache was back. Not because of his brother, but because he had forgotten to wear his new glasses. He’d gotten them two days ago. He hadn’t really wanted them, but the headaches that had bothered him several times a week were definitely getting worse. Both the doctor and the optometrist had promised his parents that the glasses would help with those, and the decision was made. He put the glasses on and stepped out again for some fresh air.

Kristoffer took a deep breath. There was barely any snow, even though it was early February. The cold hurt his nose and throat when he breathed. Trying to warm up, he started walking along the runway. It was 650 meters long and ran past all the hangars at the airfield. He lived here with his brother and his parents, Per and Kirsten Dam. His thoughts drifted back to the red plane sitting all alone in the warm hangar, and he was about to turn back when he heard a faint humming sound. He looked down the narrow grass-covered runway. Nothing? He spun around. The sound was getting louder and it definitely didn’t sound like humming anymore – it sounded like a motor!

Argh! he gulped. He was looking straight down the nose of an old aeroplane. The propeller was spinning slowly. It was almost as if the plane’s motor had stopped and the whole thing was floating in mid-air. A pair of wheels folded out from under the wings and pointed down towards the ground that was now only a few metres away. The plane darted right over his head before he could run to safety.

Amazed – and rather shaken – he stared at the plane as the wheels touched down on the runway. The plane bounced once and landed. The motor came fully to life with a roar as the plane turned and started cruising towards him. It stopped a few meters away and came to a stop with a loud bang, with one last cloud of smoke rising up from the exhaust pipes. Everything was silent for a moment.

One of the thick plastic windows of the cockpit slid back, and an elderly man wearing a leather helmet and a flight suit crawled out onto the wing and jumped down to the ground. Why hello, my young friend! I’m very sorry I flew so close to you, but it was like you appeared out of nowhere! The man stuck out his hand in greeting, and Kristoffer warily shook it. He was still too stunned to say anything out loud. Is it possible to get something to eat around here? asked the stranger in an unfamiliar accent. It wasn’t Danish. Norwegian maybe? Umm… no. This is a pretty small airfield. No one really comes here, especially not this time of year, Kristoffer replied.

He finally realized what plane the man had been flying – a Spitfire. A real, English Spitfire! It had been painted in camouflage colours, covered in patches of grey, blue, and green. It was magnificent. A real fighter from World War 2, right in front of him! Is that really a Spitfire? he asked and pointed at the plane. He looked back at the pilot. He looked quite old – about the same age as his 70-year-old grandfather. Yes it is, but it’s not mine. I fly it for a company in Sweden. My name is Bertil, by the way. Bertil Gerhardt from Sweden! Who are you? He took off his helmet, revealing an almost bald head.

I’m Kristoffer Dam. I live here – it’s my family’s airfield. But… He paused. He still couldn’t quite believe that he hadn’t seen the plane earlier. Where had it come from? What are you doing here? he asked. Bertil smiled. I was coming down from Norway and wanted to stop at a few places in Denmark on the way. Then I got hungry so I decided to make a quick stop when I saw your runway, he replied. He put his hands on his hips and frowned up at the sky. Well, I need to get going. It will be dark in an hour and I want to be in Copenhagen before then. I’ll eat there instead.

Kristoffer realized the pilot wanted to leave before he’d had a chance to have a close look at the Spitfire. Can I have a quick look at your plane before you go? Just for a little bit? It’s such an awesome plane! Bertil pointed at the Spitfire. Run along and look all you like, but make sure you don’t touch the exhaust pipes. They’re still extremely hot. Permission granted, Kristoffer sprinted over to the plane’s propeller. It was black with yellow tips. He walked under the wings. The air was thick with the smell of burning oil and petrol, and it filled his nostrils as he studied the plane’s wheels, body, and tail. All over the plane he could see tiny bumps in the metal. The body of the airplane, behind where the pilot had been sitting, was ice cold to the touch.

Alright my friend, that will have to be enough. I’m in a bit of a hurry so there’s no more time to stare. Maybe another time? I participate in air shows all over Europe so maybe we’ll see each other again some day! The old Swedish pilot brought his right hand up to his head and saluted. His movements were just like those of the English pilots Kristoffer had seen in history class. He returned the salute and ran