Bob Burke - The Ho Ho Ho Mystery

‘OK, Charles. Can you tell us what happened?’

‘Sure. Santa’s private sleigh left here as scheduled at 21:00 hours. At 22:00 hours he contacted us to let us know that things were OK and that he was ascending to his cruising height. After that nothing, and he never arrived at Polar Central. That’s all I know.’

‘How long would the flight normally be?’

‘About three hours, give or take.’

‘And would it be unusual for Mr Claus to maintain radio silence for the duration?’

‘It depends. It was a routine flight, so apart from an occasional update we might not hear from him until he was beginning his approach to Polar Central, so it wouldn’t necessarily be a cause for concern. He does this run very regularly, you know.’

‘I see, OK. Thanks, Charles.’ He barely acknowledged me as he turned his attention back to his screens. I looked at Mrs Claus. ‘Mrs Cl … I mean Clarissa, this is a most peculiar case. I can find no evidence of any wrongdoing here nor can I explain your husband’s disappearance. Clearly he’s missing, but I can’t explain it. It is possible that I may be able to find out something by interviewing the staff at your North Pole base. How soon can you organise a flight for us since I’d like to start talking to them as soon as possible?’

‘You can leave right now,’ she said. ‘We have a number of private sleighs – state of the art – that we keep on standby for any sudden or unexpected departures. They’re very comfortable and should get you there in a matter of hours.’ Mrs Claus turned to Charles. ‘Ask the ground crew to prep Jingle Bells for an immediate departure to Polar Central.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he replied and issued orders into a nearby radio.

As he spoke we were shepherded downstairs into an (admittedly very comfortable) departure lounge, where we were given heavy fur coats to wear – which didn’t bode too well for the journey ahead. Once we were warmly wrapped up we were taken to the sleigh.

I have to confess at this point that I was expecting an open box with a hard wooden seat and large storage area; all sitting on top of two long, curved, metal skis with a team of smelly, flea-ridden reindeer attached to the front.

The reality was so very different.

A sleek red-and-white (of course) chassis, like a giant covered bobsleigh, rested on huge, sturdy-looking skis. To my relief there was no sign of outside seats so it looked as though we’d be inside – and warm, I hoped. Naturally it wasn’t all high-tech. I’d been expecting something like rocket-powered engines, so I was a tad disappointed to see a team of twelve reindeer being hooked up to the front of the sleigh, but at least they looked the part too: sleek, strong and very healthy looking. I just wasn’t too sure they’d manage to get the sleigh off the ground.

Mrs Claus saw my look of uncertainty and quickly reassured me, ‘They’re Class Two reindeer; some low-level raw magic and power. Don’t worry; they’ll get us there without difficulty.’

Magic: I knew there’d be magic involved somewhere. I didn’t share her confidence. Magic and me just didn’t mix. If something was going to go wrong with this craft, chances were it would be when I was travelling in it.

Slowly and with a large degree of caution I approached the sleigh. As I did, a door in the side slid quietly open, revealing a luxurious interior. Large, comfortable-looking seats lined the walls and a plush carpet covered the floor. No prizes for guessing the colour scheme. Hey, maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all.

One of the ground crew approached. ‘Everyone inside please, we depart in five minutes.’

We all entered and quickly strapped ourselves into the seats. I sank into mine and it surrounded me like I was in a hot bath. This was the life. If I didn’t know better I’d have thought I was in someone’s living room. Across from me Basili struggled with his seat belt and looked anxiously at me. I gave him a reassuring smile, but he didn’t seem too convinced. Maybe he didn’t like flying either – which was strange, considering he used to be a genie and spent most of the time when he popped out of his lamp hanging in the air with smoke for legs. I hoped for his sake we’d have an uneventful flight.

Behind me Mrs Claus was talking to our in-flight steward and asking him to organise drinks and something to eat as soon as we were airborne. As he walked back to the galley, there was a sudden jolt and the sleigh began to move forward along the ramp. As we began to pick up speed, I noticed – somewhat nervously – that we were racing up the ramp towards the ceiling I’d seen earlier. The sleigh got faster and faster as we approached the blank wall ahead.

‘Shouldn’t there be a door or something?’ I shouted over my shoulder to Mrs Claus, who was lying back with her eyes closed, seemingly blissfully unaware of our imminent collision.

‘Don’t worry, Mr Pigg. I’m sure the pilot knows what he’s doing.’

Outside, the scenery was passing by in a blur as the reindeer picked up speed, apparently oblivious to their impending doom.

The ceiling got closer and closer and I got more and more scared. ‘Ohmigod, we’re all gonna die; we’re all gonna die; WE’RE ALL GONNA DIIIIAAAARGH.’ As I screamed in terror at our imminent collision with the ceiling, it suddenly split in two and the sleigh shot out through the opening. Through the window I got a blurred glimpse of the swimming pool parting on either side as we came up through it. Seconds later we’d left the ground behind us and hurtled into the night sky.

‘There,’ came a sleepy voice from behind me. ‘I told you he knew what he was doing.’

I sank back in my seat, sweating … well, um, like a pig actually. I was close to hyperventilating and tried to get my breathing under control before I passed out. Across the aisle Basili was studying me with interest, seemingly oblivious to what just happened.

‘You are well, Mr Harry?’ he asked.

‘I’ll live,’ I gasped. ‘But I don’t think I’ll be able to cope with any more scares like that.’

Behind me, a gentle snoring sound suggested Mrs Claus was far less worried than either of us.

‘I am sure there will be no more incidents until after we are arriving at our destination.’ Basili unfastened his belt – which was clearly making him uncomfortable – let his seat back and closed his eyes. Seconds later he too was snoring, but much louder than the ladylike trilling from Mrs Claus. Great: snoring in stereo for the rest of the trip! I wondered if there was an in-flight movie; I could certainly do with some distraction.

Unfortunately, it looked as though the nearest I was going to get to in-flight entertainment was looking out of the window. Mind you, judging by the speed at which the clouds passed by it seemed that the reindeer were moving at quite a clip. Maybe there was some germ of truth in what Mrs Claus had told me. If these were Class Two animals, I wondered how fast Class One reindeer could go. Idly musing on thoughts like this (and because I had nothing else to do – the current case proving to be completely devoid of any leads), I eventually sank into a light doze.

A loud blaring brought me to my senses. The captain was shouting at us through the intercom. ‘Attention, passengers. Ground control has detected another craft approaching us at speed. We have as yet been unable to make contact with them. Please return to your seats and ensure your seat belts are securely fastened while we establish what is going on. Thank you.’