Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

While Molly told Lily everything that had happened, Malcolm fiddled with the TV controls. Finally he got a signal, and a serious-faced presenter, standing in a studio in front of a large weather map of Europe, appeared. The screen flickered, and her voice crackled.

“Our satellite pictures show heavy storms over the North Sea,” she said. “And what looks alarmingly like the beginnings of a tornado have been detected in Northern Europe, near the southern coast of Sweden. It’s anyone’s guess how this tornado will grow and where it will go, as the winds are proving unpredictable, but the National Weather Agency’s advice to everyone tonight is stay at home and batten down the hatches. Don’t make trips out unless they are absolutely necessary. And keep watching news and weather reports to see how this storm and tornado are progressing.” The woman gave a stern nod and the cameras switched to another newsperson, a dark-haired man in a suit, and his guest, an elderly man with white hair and a bushy beard.

“It’s crazy out there, Professor Cramling. In all your years working at Cambridge University, you say you’ve never seen anything like this?” asked the anchorman.

“No. Never.”

“And how do you explain it?”

Professor Cramling scratched his hairy chin. “I can only assume,” he postulated, “that this weather is the unexpected result of global warming. People expected weather to change—but not this suddenly. Every weather professional that I have spoken to is concerned, alarmed, confused.”

Malcolm flicked channels to look at the global weather and news reports. Lots of other countries were having strange, often fatally dangerous, weather, too. One channel showed a weather map of the world. It showed that Canada, America, Europe, and Russia were having snowstorms and blizzards, and Asian countries were having typhoons. Other countries were suffering from severe wet weather conditions similar to London’s.

“But look!” Micky pointed to the world map on the TV. “Ecuador and other South American countries don’t seem to have been affected at all!”

“All flights from British airports have been delayed,” a newsreader reported.

“Not good news,” said Malcolm, watching the birds’-eye TV footage of miles and miles of traffic stuck in a jam on the motorways to the airports. The massive queue looked like an electrical river, as the thousands of cars in it beamed out their red rear lights into the dark night.

“So what do you think?” Micky asked Lily. Lily narrowed her eyes and then softened, pleased that someone valued her opinion. She knelt down on the floor next to Micky. “You see,” Micky went on, “we’ve got to get here.” He pointed to the atlas page that showed northern Ecuador. “To the top of that squiggly blue line. That’s the Coca River.”

“And it’s definitely the place where the weather can be changed? Where the Logan Stones are?” Lily asked.

“Hope so,” Micky said, making a face. “Because we’re going a long way away for a mistake if we’re not right.”

“It all seems a bit vague to me.” Lily sniffed.

Black, who’d been tapping away at his computer, now leaned back in his chair. “The source of the Coca River,” he announced, “is unknown. But the first signs of it are high, high up in the Andes, high above the cloud forest. At least they give GPS coordinates for this. So we can go there.” Black squinted at his computer. “We have to fly to a city called Quito in Ecuador,” he concluded. “And then drive from there up into the mountains.”

“Or we could get a helicopter,” Molly suggested. “That would be quicker.”

Lily suddenly frowned at her dad. “You’re not thinking of going, are you, Dad?”

Black turned. His face blushed slightly, as though he had done something naughty.

“Well, I had thought, erm, I ought.”

Lily Black’s face now turned red as a temper rose up in her. “There is no way you are going,” she said with a firmness that was a bit scary. “You know what the doctor said. You mustn’t fly. Your heart can’t take it. You will have a heart attack.”

“What?” Micky asked.

“Dad is absolutely not allowed to go on planes,” Lily explained. “If he does, he might have another heart attack.”

Black swiveled around, his face now crestfallen.

“Lily’s right, I’m afraid,” he said. “Molly and Micky, I would love to come, but the condition of my heart just won’t allow it. Firstly, the flight wouldn’t be good for me, and secondly, my doctor has given me strict instructions that I must not go to areas of high altitude. High altitudes are dangerous for people with weak hearts, you see.”

Molly shrugged. “Okay. We’re used to doing things on our own. But it would be good if Malcolm would come. Will you come, Malcolm?” Malcolm nodded. “Thanks,” Molly said, relieved. “Anyway, Mr. Black, we’ll need someone here. Someone who knows what’s going on.”