Sleuth on Skates (19 page)

“Absolutely,” Archie said. “If the word ‘horse'
appears several times in someone's emails, or in their searches, they're filed as riders.”

“Are your clients happy, Dad?”

“Yes, we've already had a rise in Cambridge sales. Of course, they don't know how we manage to target customers so efficiently. And once we widen it to other universities . . . and perhaps other institutions . . .”

“Aren't you glad I introduced you to Ian, Dad?” said Edwin laughingly. “He's been fantastic at putting you in touch with the right people!”

“It's easy, when you've been in the place for a long time,” replied Ian Philips. “I'm a trusted member of the university. All I had to do was convince them that it's perfectly innocent.”

“Which you managed superbly, I must say,” remarked Mr. Franklin. “Edwin, Ian told me there had been an issue with a student guessing what was happening?”

“It's all under control, Dad. It's Stacy, the lead in the ballet—she ran into Archie's program in the computer science department when he was
still working on it and she told that other girl – Jenna Jenkins—what she'd found.”

“Ah! That's where it all came from.”

“Archie was testing the software on the Trinity College network last Sunday, and he intercepted a conversation between Stacy and Reverend Tan—the college Chaplain. Thankfully, Archie managed to cut the connection before she told him anything of importance. I broke into his room and stole his computer a while later, just in case he'd recorded the conversation. And yesterday I went to Norwich to throw it in a rubbish tip. No one will ever find it.”

“Very good. Very good. That Stacy, she's not going to tell anyone?”

“No. I negotiated with her. I'm putting her in touch with National Ballet people, kick-starting her career.”

“And Jenna Jenkins?”

“We're safe there too,” said Ian Philips soothingly. “There's nothing money can't buy. Actually, only yesterday I was contacted by another student who knew everything—no idea
how. As easily convinced as the Jenkins girl. We've got it all under control.”

“Well then—to our success!”

“To our success!”

Glasses clinking.

And suddenly another, more unexpected, noise.

You have reached the limit for audio recording. You have reached the limit for audio recording. You have reached the limit for audio recording
.

Followed by the ridiculous tooth-brushing tune.

“What's this?”

“It's the cow!”

“What cow?”

“That painting!”

I saw many pairs of hands lift up the frame. And there was light.

“Sesame Seade!”

“Sesame Seade!”

“Sesame Seade!”

“Sesame Seade!”

“Wow,” I said, “you all know me!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Resting behind a painting. It's all the rage.”

Professor Ian Philips grabbed my shoulders and made me stand up surprisingly powerfully. “What was that about? The recording thing?”

“Oh, that! Oh, nothing!”

But they'd all turned quite pale, looking at my Phone4Kidz as if it had been a weapon of mass destruction.

“Sesame,” said Edwin in a slow, high-pitched voice, “give me the phone, please.”

“I can't. My parents bought it for me only yesterday. As much as I would love an excuse to give it away, they would squeeze me like a lemon until only my dry skin's left.”

“Don't worry, I'll tell your parents not to punish you,” purred Ian Philips in his mellifluous voice. “I know them well. They're good friends of mine.”

“They wouldn't listen to you. They don't even listen to the European Union.”

“Right. Let's stop playing, now,” stated Mr. Franklin, and he grasped my arm. “You're going to be a good girl and give us this phone.”

“Don't want!”

“Grab her!”

They each got hold of one of my limbs, which made me feel like a medieval criminal being quartered by four furious horses. Mr. Franklin covered my mouth with his hand and I struggled feverishly, kicking a vast quantity of legs, arms and faces—until I managed to wriggle free of Edwin, who was holding my right arm. Swiftly I slipped the phone into the collar of my shirt. Since—thanks to my mum—my shirt was admirably tucked in, the phone slid down and stayed stuck between my belly and my skirt in a warm little hammock.

“Abracadabra! It's vanished into thin air,” I announced.

“Thin air my foot!” roared Mr. Franklin. “Turn her upside-down!”

They tried, but they hadn't thought it
through properly—instead of letting go one after the other they all dropped me at the same time, and I managed to slither out of their reach in the manner of the slimy eel. I then adopted the ways of the Australian kangaroo by hopping to the corner of the room, picking up one of the feathery wings on the way, to use as a shield.

“Now, Sesame, be reasonable,” said Ian Philips in his soft voice. “The information you've got isn't valuable. No one's remotely interested in hearing it, you know. It'd be much better if you recorded yourself singing a nice little song.”

“No chance! I know everything,” I said. “I talked to Jenna Jenkins and to Stacy Vance. I'm the one who told Jeremy Hopkins what's going on. My friends Toby and Gemma know everything too. And no need to try and buy my silence. I don't want your money. I already get five pounds a week from my parents.”

If I'd been a dog, no doubt I could have smelt their panic from my little corner. But I wasn't
particularly relaxed myself, if you really need to know. There were four of them, and I was on my own, with only a shield of fluffy feathers to protect myself when I wouldn't have minded more aggressive weaponry.

“Catch her,” Mr. Franklin croaked. “I don't care how.”

They leapt at me—but not swiftly enough.

The best strategy, as a lioness would tell you, would have been to close up on me from all corners of the room. Instead, the fearsome foursome clownishly ran after me together, bumping into each other and stumbling over the furniture, arms outstretched and grunting like brain-craving zombies.

Ninja-like, I slipped under a table, jumped over a statue, did a cartwheel on an old armchair, swung from the ceiling lamp, and—

—found myself face to face with Edwin, right in front of the door.

How did he get there?

I ducked to the side just in time—his arms grasped cold air—and I threw myself to the
ground under Mr. Franklin's legs. One karate kick to the left made a huge canvas collapse on to the professor brothers of evil. But Edwin had materialized out of nowhere again! He had the look of someone who wanted to rugby-tackle me.

Not fast enough!

I sprang up into the ether, and one second later, I landed next to the window.

The window was open. And on the window sill was a squirrel, who leapt swiftly away.

And suddenly something happened in my brain.

You know what I told you about the number of connections in your brain being equal to the number of stars in the universe? That's how it works.

You see a squirrel.

This reminds you of Mrs. Appleyard's video of gliding squirrels.

Then you notice that you're holding feathery wings.

And then you remember Edwin saying that
they're solid little things that could hold your weight.

Your brain puts two and two together, and says, “Glide.”

I put on the wings, grabbed the straps, climbed on the window sill, and—

“No! Catch her!”

The wind slapped me as I jumped, and the gale met the wings. Immediately I slowed down, as if I was sliding on invisible rails of air—crossing the street, soaring above the walls of Sidney Sussex College.

Going down a bit quicker there, with less wind to hold me up . . .

“Oh, look!” said someone below me. “A swan!”

Down, down, down, down.

“Oh my God!” someone else exclaimed. “It's not a swan! It's—”

And as I crashed not very elegantly on to the soft grass of Sidney Sussex, I heard, in perfect unison, two voices which I really could have done without:

“SOPHIE MARGARET CATRIONA SEADE!”

The rest is history. You probably don't want to hear about my getting the Keys to the City from the hands of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Well, at least I hope you don't want to hear about it, because it didn't happen, much to my and Toby's and Gemma's indignation.

What happened was this: my parents, in fits, dropped their plates and glasses to pick me up from the ground. Apparently the Master of Sidney Sussex had invited them to a quiet little shebang in the college gardens. I'd sort of ruined their evening, but that's normal. I was rushed to A&E, even though I was fine, just a few ruffled feathers and a bruise on my knee which I swear had been there before. The Fellows who were dining in
the Sidney Sussex gardens, including the Vice-Chancellor, followed us to hospital in their gowns and waited outside like a troop of worried-looking ravens until I came out triumphantly.

“Victory!” I told my fan club. “Not the merest plaster anywhere on my body! Sesame Seade is not a swan, but she's as solid as a stone!”

Then I was taken to the police station, where I produced my phone, upon which no one could refrain from laughing. I played the recording. They heard it all. They noted it all down. They told my meek-looking Mum and Dad they should have listened to me.

“I'm always telling them that, but they never listen. Do you, Mum?”

“Do I what, darling?” It's a hopeless business.

“Can I go in your car for the car chase?” I asked.

“What car chase?” chuckled the Inspector.

“The one you're about to have to catch the Franklins and the Philipses.”

“Don't think there's going to be a car chase, love,” said the Inspector, which saddened me no end.

There was no car chase. Edwin Franklin and his father, who had stayed, rather stupidly, at the art gallery, were caught there and not even handcuffed. The Philips brothers were found at the Fitzwilliam museum destroying their computers, but not quickly enough for all the information to disappear. Jenna Jenkins was woken up by a phone call from the Inspector. Stacy Vance was dragged to the police station to be interrogated.

As for Jeremy, well, I mysteriously forgot to mention him to the Inspector. I was about to, but got distracted by a crack on the wall that looked a bit like a kite-surfing hippopotamus. After all, he hadn't technically taken any money, and
UniGossip
still needed him. And maybe I did too.

And that was all.

I thought I would testify in court, make a tear-jerking speech, explain every little detail of my adventure! I thought Toby and Gemma would be called as witnesses! I thought I would be allowed to publicly whip Edwin, Mr. Franklin and the Philips brothers! I thought I would shake the Queen's hand and be thanked on behalf of the whole country!