Goldwhiskers (22 page)

‘He's not Oz,' mumbled Priscilla sleepily.

There was a knock at the door. A policeman poked his head in. ‘Everything all right in here?'

‘Just fine, officer,' said DB.

‘Oz is in the loo,' mumbled Priscilla, her eyelids fluttering in a vain attempt to open them.

‘No, he's not,' said DB soothingly. ‘You were dreaming. He's right here. Nigel is in the restroom.'

The policeman peered at the bulky figure in the corner. ‘You kids make sure you stay put this time,' he said. ‘No funny business.'

‘No, sir,' said DB as he withdrew.

‘Let's hope Oz gets back here on the double,' DB whispered to Nigel. ‘If he's not back by the interval, our goose is cooked.'

‘I love cooked goose,' Priscilla murmured, and started to snore.

‘Any sign of them?' asked Squeak, hopping down off her pigeon's back.

‘Not so much as a paw print,' a Royal Guard replied. ‘A team of commandos just reported in, though – the office next door at 80 Strand is empty. Seems Goldwhiskers had a lair hidden in the attic above. It was empty too. They're definitely on the move.'

Squeak peered over the edge of the Savoy's rooftop. She looked down the side of the hotel building to the street. She
scanned the sky in all directions. ‘And you're sure this is where they're heading?' she said doubtfully.

The guard shrugged. ‘I'm just following orders. I hear there was some sort of a clue, or riddle. One of the whiz-whiskers down at MICE-6 decoded it and sent us here.'

Squeak's ears perked up at this. ‘Clue? What clue?'

‘Didn't they fill you in?'

Squeak shook her head. ‘We've been on kind of a tight schedule,' she said. She pressed the button on the transmitter clipped to her fur. ‘Agent Savoy checking in.'

‘Ah, there you are, Squeak!' Sir Edmund replied. ‘Ozymandias is on his way?'

‘Yes, sir,' Squeak responded. ‘I understand there's something about a clue?'

‘That's right. This Goldwhiskers, as he likes to call himself, is toying with us.' Her boss sounded annoyed. Squeak heard a rustling of paper and Sir Edmund continued, ‘He said, and I quote, “I'm going to take all these double-crossing, disobedient, disloyal mice on an outing tonight. A little Christmas Eve treat in London. Won't that be fun?” Then he finished with this riddle:

‘Up on the rooftop the rodents pause,
Lots of mouselings in their claws.
Off for an evening of games and fun –
We'll come full circle when the night is done.
Round and round we'll go, then WHEE!
I'll be the last thing they ever SEE!'

‘That's it?' said Squeak.

‘That's all of it.'

Squeak was quiet for a moment. She gazed out across the Thames. It was a beautiful Christmas Eve, clear and cold. The sky was already alight with stars, and a full moon was rising. It was difficult to imagine that in just a couple of hours, unless they were able to stop it, the city would be under attack.

‘“Round and round we'll go,”' she mused. Her gaze came to rest on the enormous Ferris wheel downriver from the hotel. ‘Oh, no,' she whispered. ‘“Whee”? Sir!'

‘Yes?' Sir Edmund replied.

‘Goldwhiskers wasn't talking about the Savoy at all!' cried Squeak, leaping back on to her pigeon. ‘He's heading for the London Eye! I've got to try and do something – we've given Oz the wrong coordinates for the SAS!'

DB looked at the clock. Ten minutes until the interval. Where was Oz?

‘We can't wait any longer,' she said finally. ‘We've got to get this show on the road.'

She stood up. Nigel heaved himself out of his chair and waddled over to join her.

‘You can take off your Oz suit for now,' said DB, helping him unbutton the coat and remove the cushions. ‘I need you to be Nigel again.'

‘What are we going to do?'

‘First, we need to get Slushbutt here into her costume.'

Working quickly, the two of them bundled the
sleeping Priscilla Winterbottom into the costume from the
Nutcracker
ballet's wardrobe. ‘There,' said DB, adjusting the hood. ‘Suits her to a T.' She looked around the room, frowning. ‘Now, the question is, how do we get her past the policeman?'

‘There's a big laundry basket in the housekeeper's cupboard outside,' offered Nigel. ‘We could put her in that.'

DB smiled. ‘You don't miss a trick, do you, kid? I think Oz may have been right about you.'

The small, pale boy fingered his MICE-6 badge proudly and offered a shy smile in return.

‘Think you can get that basket in here without the guard seeing?'

‘I'll try.' Nigel opened the door a sliver and peeked out into the hall. The policeman's back was turned; he was watching the concert from the stage wings. As the two sopranos swung into ‘The Holly and the Ivy', the tune that would close the first half of their Christmas programme, the younger boy tiptoed to the housekeeper's cupboard, grabbed the laundry basket and wheeled it back to Lavinia Levinson's dressing room.

‘Give me a hand, would you, Nigel?' whispered DB, hoisting the sleeping form of Priscilla
Winterbottom up off the sofa. The two of them managed to sling her gently – very gently – up and over the side of the basket, settling her on to a heap of soiled linen.

‘Peee-eeeewww,' said DB softly, wrinkling her nose as she climbed in beside the British soprano's daughter and burrowed beneath a towel.

‘Yeah,' agreed Nigel. ‘Those ballet dancers really work up a sweat.'

‘Can you get us to the lift?' DB asked him, her voice muffled by dirty laundry.

In reply, Nigel Henshaw wheeled the basket quietly out of the dressing room. The guard's back was still turned. The younger boy pushed the basket slowly and carefully down the hall. Just as he passed the guard, Priscilla Winterbottom let out a snore. The policeman wheeled round.

‘Stop!' he called.

Nigel halted, and the policeman eyed him suspiciously. ‘You're the conductor's son, right?'

Nigel nodded.

‘I thought your dad told you to stay in his dressing room.'

‘Just until the interval,' Nigel said meekly. ‘I'm taking these down to the laundry for housekeeping.'

The detective glanced into the cart. ‘Whew,' he said. ‘Stinky.'

Nigel nodded in agreement. ‘The towels always need a good wash after the matinee. They weren't seen to today – housekeeper's off on holiday.'

‘Right then, lad. Nice of you to lend a hand. Off you go. Haven't been bothering those two American kids, have you?'

‘Oh, no, sir,' said Nigel. He started forward with the basket again. It let out another snore, and Nigel coughed loudly to cover it. The guard frowned, but the haunting strains of the ancient carol drew him back, and with one last glance over his shoulder at Nigel he allowed his attention to return to the stage.

Nigel turned the corner of the hallway and broke into a run. He screeched to a halt in front of the lift, and a minute later they were in the basement.

DB climbed out of the laundry cart and slid open the back of the enormous silver foil-wrapped present on the hydraulic lift. ‘Be careful not to wake her,' she whispered as she and Nigel wheeled the laundry basket up on to the platform and into the box. Priscilla squirmed restlessly for a moment, then settled in with a sleepy sigh.

‘Can she breathe in there?' asked Nigel anxiously
as DB slid the back of the box into place again.

DB nodded. ‘Plenty of air holes,' she said. ‘Oz and I checked.'

They crossed to the laundry room, and DB climbed into another basket. ‘Keep your fingers crossed, Agent Henshaw,' she said as Nigel covered her with fresh towels. ‘Let's just hope Oz's plan works.'

Oz stood motionless, frozen in place in the shadows behind the stiff wax figures of the Beatles. It was dark in the museum, and Oz could hear the night watchman huffing and puffing as he trotted through the deserted galleries.