meeting MUST take place at 9 p.m. Codename Heather is NOT a smuggler, is an UNDERCOVER MI5 AGENT. Heather
will arrest Moss when sees Moss has diamonds. Moss MUST not suspect. Entire MI5 operation at stake, months of investigation.
Oh dear.
Remember that cold, creeping feeling I got down my spine when I opened the walking stick? I got it again.
The time was eight twelve p.m.
C HAPTER
S IX
‘OH N OOOOO !’ I WAILED .
‘What’s the matter?’ said Izzy.
‘Arrghh! Why didn’t Mr Bloomin’ Mystery bloomin’ well tell me ?’ I cried.
‘Tell you what?’ said Izzy.
For a second or two, I was so frozen with terror and indecision that I think I could hear my brain ticking. Then I hurriedly gathered up the diamonds.
‘We’ve got to move quickly! It’s . . . eight thirteen p.m. We have forty-seven minutes, maximum.’
‘To do what?’ said Izzy.
I ushered her out into the reception area, leaving Susan and the other girls to keep watch on Beeks.
‘To get these diamonds back into the safe in room 217, without Moss the smuggler knowing about it and before his contact turns up.’
‘Why?’ said Izzy.
I told her. She nearly went ‘Arrghh!’ too.
‘We need Muddy,’ I said, finding his number on my phone. My conversation with Muddy went like this:
Me: Muddy! Can you open a locked safe?
Muddy: Hmmm. What sort of safe?
Me: Number combination, the kind you reset, like you find in hotel rooms.
Muddy: Hmmm. Not sure. Let me go and see what I’ve got in my Development Laboratory. Hang on.
Me: No, wait! We can’t wait while you root around in your garage! Yes or no? Quick!
Muddy: Then yes. Well . . . probably.
Me: Great! Get over here now! I’m at the Regal Hotel!
Muddy: Forget it, matey, you’re on your own.
Me: WHAT?
Muddy: I’m not turning up to Susan Lillington’s girlie sleepover! If one of those girls has locked her make-up or something in a safe, you can deal with it on your own.
Me: Forget the sleepover! This is urgent! I’m on a case!
Muddy: Nope. You got yourself into it, you can get yourself out.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I was going to have to tell him the truth. He would go bananas.
Me: Please?
Muddy: Nope. You won’t get me within a mile of that girlie sleepover, and that’s my final word.
Me (deep breath): MI5 is involved. Truly. I’m not joking.
Silence.
Muddy: I’ll be there in ten minutes.
Nine minutes and forty-two seconds later, he came hurtling into the hotel, gasping for breath, with a large grubby bag of assorted gadgets slung over his shoulder.
‘Where are they?’ he said. If his eyes had been any gogglier they’d have dropped out of his head. He scampered about like a puppy that’s been promised a new squeaky
toy.
‘On their way,’ I said. ‘In the meantime, we have work to do. Well, you have work to do.’
The time was eight twenty-four p.m. Susan’s mum reappeared from the direction of the restaurant.
‘Sorted,’ she said. ‘Vernon’s accidentally on purpose spilled gravy down Black Suit Man’s trousers. They’ve got him in the kitchens, apologising and soaking
out the stain.’
‘Brilliant,’ I said. ‘Izzy, keep an eye out for Moss the smuggler. We have to be finished before he returns to his room. He’ll go back upstairs as soon as he’s
polished off that gigantic free dinner. Call us the moment he passes through here.’
Muddy and I raced for the stairs. Then we raced back again. Susan’s mum handed us a duplicate keycard for room 217. Then we raced for the stairs.
Two minutes later, we were in the smuggler’s lair! The curtains had been drawn and a briefcase had been dropped on to the bed.
I opened the wardrobe. The squat metal hatch of the room safe was firmly shut.
‘Why couldn’t Beeks have left it open?’ I muttered to myself.
‘Good thing he didn’t,’ said Muddy cheerily, ‘otherwise you wouldn’t have needed me.’ He pulled a couple of electronic gizmos out of his bag. He clipped one
end of
will arrest Moss when sees Moss has diamonds. Moss MUST not suspect. Entire MI5 operation at stake, months of investigation.
Oh dear.
Remember that cold, creeping feeling I got down my spine when I opened the walking stick? I got it again.
The time was eight twelve p.m.
C HAPTER
S IX
‘OH N OOOOO !’ I WAILED .
‘What’s the matter?’ said Izzy.
‘Arrghh! Why didn’t Mr Bloomin’ Mystery bloomin’ well tell me ?’ I cried.
‘Tell you what?’ said Izzy.
For a second or two, I was so frozen with terror and indecision that I think I could hear my brain ticking. Then I hurriedly gathered up the diamonds.
‘We’ve got to move quickly! It’s . . . eight thirteen p.m. We have forty-seven minutes, maximum.’
‘To do what?’ said Izzy.
I ushered her out into the reception area, leaving Susan and the other girls to keep watch on Beeks.
‘To get these diamonds back into the safe in room 217, without Moss the smuggler knowing about it and before his contact turns up.’
‘Why?’ said Izzy.
I told her. She nearly went ‘Arrghh!’ too.
‘We need Muddy,’ I said, finding his number on my phone. My conversation with Muddy went like this:
Me: Muddy! Can you open a locked safe?
Muddy: Hmmm. What sort of safe?
Me: Number combination, the kind you reset, like you find in hotel rooms.
Muddy: Hmmm. Not sure. Let me go and see what I’ve got in my Development Laboratory. Hang on.
Me: No, wait! We can’t wait while you root around in your garage! Yes or no? Quick!
Muddy: Then yes. Well . . . probably.
Me: Great! Get over here now! I’m at the Regal Hotel!
Muddy: Forget it, matey, you’re on your own.
Me: WHAT?
Muddy: I’m not turning up to Susan Lillington’s girlie sleepover! If one of those girls has locked her make-up or something in a safe, you can deal with it on your own.
Me: Forget the sleepover! This is urgent! I’m on a case!
Muddy: Nope. You got yourself into it, you can get yourself out.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I was going to have to tell him the truth. He would go bananas.
Me: Please?
Muddy: Nope. You won’t get me within a mile of that girlie sleepover, and that’s my final word.
Me (deep breath): MI5 is involved. Truly. I’m not joking.
Silence.
Muddy: I’ll be there in ten minutes.
Nine minutes and forty-two seconds later, he came hurtling into the hotel, gasping for breath, with a large grubby bag of assorted gadgets slung over his shoulder.
‘Where are they?’ he said. If his eyes had been any gogglier they’d have dropped out of his head. He scampered about like a puppy that’s been promised a new squeaky
toy.
‘On their way,’ I said. ‘In the meantime, we have work to do. Well, you have work to do.’
The time was eight twenty-four p.m. Susan’s mum reappeared from the direction of the restaurant.
‘Sorted,’ she said. ‘Vernon’s accidentally on purpose spilled gravy down Black Suit Man’s trousers. They’ve got him in the kitchens, apologising and soaking
out the stain.’
‘Brilliant,’ I said. ‘Izzy, keep an eye out for Moss the smuggler. We have to be finished before he returns to his room. He’ll go back upstairs as soon as he’s
polished off that gigantic free dinner. Call us the moment he passes through here.’
Muddy and I raced for the stairs. Then we raced back again. Susan’s mum handed us a duplicate keycard for room 217. Then we raced for the stairs.
Two minutes later, we were in the smuggler’s lair! The curtains had been drawn and a briefcase had been dropped on to the bed.
I opened the wardrobe. The squat metal hatch of the room safe was firmly shut.
‘Why couldn’t Beeks have left it open?’ I muttered to myself.
‘Good thing he didn’t,’ said Muddy cheerily, ‘otherwise you wouldn’t have needed me.’ He pulled a couple of electronic gizmos out of his bag. He clipped one
end of
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