Crowns and Codebreakers (16 page)

The boy pulled her along a narrow corridor, dark on all sides, then into a big room where two terrifying creatures rattled and clacked, and all around were shelves of heads, nailed, hammered, warped – heads looking back at her. Flora gasped. Demons?

Demons fighting Marcus. The two moving creatures were monstrous, huge. Marcus was backed into a corner. He did, indeed, have a sword, which he was pointing at the upright crocodile.

The little boy whimpered miserably.

‘You stay back!’ Marcus yelled. He swung the sword wildly; the blade flashed under the clinical strip light, like a surgeon’s scalpel.

The crocodile jerked away from the slashing metal.

Flora didn’t know what to do. Demons? Really? Should she help Marcus? Get the boy out of there?

‘Demons?’ Andrew said, standing by her side. ‘Not in those trainers. Oi! You two. You’ll need this.’ Andrew grabbed something from a nearby shelf – a wood and leather shield. He threw it across the room to the crocodile.

The crocodile turned at the sound of Andrew’s voice. Its arms shot up to catch the shield and Flora caught a flash of brown hand, pink sleeve – Minnie! It was Minnie inside the costume. And Marcus was waving a sword at her!

Minnie spun back to face Marcus, who stood with the sword held high. The metal gleamed. He brought it down hard.

At the same moment Minnie swung her shield like a cricket bat and caught Marcus hard on the jaw. The sword clattered to the floor.

The rainbow creature – who, Flora realised, must be Piotr – jumped on to Marcus’s back. The two fell to the
ground. Minnie launched herself forward too, shield and all, and landed on the gallery owner with a yell of triumph.

‘Andrew!’ Flora said. ‘Find some rope, or something to tie him up with!’

She and Andrew scoured the shelves. There was nothing. Then Andrew gave a cry and held up some thick brown packing tape.

The wriggling figures were doing an excellent job of holding Marcus down. The weight of the costumes was more than enough to keep him pinned to the floor, let alone the weight of the two people inside them.

Flora kicked the sword away and passed the tape to Minnie. In seconds, Marcus’s hands were secured behind his back and his ankles were packing-taped together.

Minnie stood up and pulled the crocodile head off. She was sweaty, but smiling. ‘We’ve done it!’ she said. ‘We found the boy and we found the stolen art! We did it!’

Marcus rolled on the floor like a human sausage roll. Then he met Flora’s gaze and froze. He looked confused, then panicked. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he whispered.

Minnie, Piotr and Andrew didn’t hear. They were too busy whooping with joy that they had solved the case
and saved Femi. Minnie got out of the costume and picked up Femi. She twirled him around like a carousel horse.

But Flora didn’t celebrate. She felt a stab of worry. She stood over Marcus, looking down at him. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘Why shouldn’t I be here?’

Marcus shook his head. He clamped his lips tight. He wasn’t going to say anything.

There was something else bothering her, too, like the beginning of toothache. Something Femi had said. She turned to him. Minnie had stopped spinning, but was still holding the little boy.

‘Femi,’ Flora said, ‘when we came in you said that
she
would be angry if the demons hurt Marcus. Who is
she
?’

Femi frowned. ‘The boss, of course.’

The boss? Marcus wasn’t the boss?

The celebrating fizzled out as they all realised what Femi had said.

This wasn’t over.

‘We should call the police,’ Piotr said.

‘No!’ Femi cried. ‘No police! Uncle Marcus says the police are worse than the demons.’

Minnie put Femi down, crouched in front of him and took both his hands in hers. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong,’
she said. ‘It’s Marcus who should be frightened of the police, not you. The police can help you find your family again. Would you like that?’

‘My family?’ Femi’s sliver of a smile was painful to watch. ‘I’d like to see my family,’ he whispered.

Minnie pulled out her phone. ‘I’ll call Jimmy,’ she said.

She looked at the screen and gasped.

‘This is bad,’ Minnie said, looking at her phone. ‘Bad, bad, bad.’

‘Let me go!’ Marcus said, rolling on the concrete floor of the storeroom, collecting dust and smears on his smart suit.

Everyone ignored him.

Flora stepped closer to Minnie and peered at her phone. ‘What is it?’

Minnie bit her lip. She looked at Flora, who seemed paler than usual, frightened. She was right to be. ‘A text,’ Minnie said, ‘from Gran’s phone. But I don’t think Gran sent it.’

‘What does it say?’ Andrew asked.

‘It says:
HELP in pcs car. S
.’

‘Who’s S?’ Andrew asked.

‘Sylvie,’ Flora whispered.

‘Who’s pcs?’ Andrew asked.

They looked at each other. Sylvie needed them; she was in trouble. But with who?

‘Pc might be police constable?’ Piotr suggested. ‘Maybe she’s with Jimmy.’

Flora shook her head. ‘Sylvie knows he’s a special constable. And why would she be asking for help if she was with Jimmy? I don’t like this!’ Her voice rose and almost cracked with worry. ‘Where’s Sylvie? Where’s my sister?’

‘And my gran,’ Minnie said flatly. Sylvie was using Gran’s phone. That wasn’t good.

‘Don’t panic,’ Piotr said. He was out of the masquerade. ‘Flora, do you have your notebook?’

Flora pulled off her backpack and nodded.

‘Have we any suspects, anyone who might be pcs? Any initials or places? Or companies? Anything at all?’

Flora unzipped her bag. She pulled out the green T-shirt and laid it on the table, then she took out her notebook and opened it. Minnie saw flashes of their investigation – the postcard, interviews with the window cleaner, the Nigerian letterhead. But no pcs.

Nothing.

‘My T-shirt!’ Femi said in delight.

Minnie picked it up to give to him. Then she paused. He looked up at her, one hand on the T-shirt she was still holding. ‘Femi,’ Minnie said. ‘What do you know about the boss? Have you ever seen her? Do you know her name? It’s important. The lady who noticed you on the plane, who accidentally took your case, she’s my gran. My family. And she’s in trouble. Anything you can tell us might help us find her. Oh, and Sylvie, Flora’s sister.’

Femi frowned deeply, thinking. ‘I don’t know her name.’

‘What does she look like?’

He shrugged again. ‘I don’t know. She doesn’t come here.’

‘Please, Femi, anything you can remember might help.’

Andrew coughed. She looked up. He was standing near Marcus. He held the sword that Marcus had been waving around only moments ago. Andrew raised an eyebrow. ‘I bet I can get Marcus to tell us.’ He lifted the sword.

‘Andrew!’ Minnie snapped. ‘No one gets hurt. Yet. Give Femi a chance.’

Femi gave a small leap. ‘I thought of something! They call her Badger One sometimes.’

Something shifted in Minnie’s brain. Something badgery. She handed over the T-shirt slowly. The label caught her eye. Swift Limited. Badgers. Swift …

‘Police Commissioner Swift!’ Minnie yelled.

Marcus gave a low moan. Andrew gave him a prod with the tip of the sword.

‘We need to call Jimmy right now!’ Minnie said.

‘I’m not who you think I am,’ Sylvie said firmly.

The car swerved for a second before Anthea got control of it again. ‘What? Of course you are. Your name was sewn inside the bridesmaid’s dress. I googled you. You were in a play with Betty Massino. I saw your photograph. You’re exactly who I think you are.’

‘Who do you think she is?’ Auntie asked.

‘Sylvie Hampshire.’

Auntie raised an eyebrow quizzically at Sylvie.

‘No. Well, yes, but no,’ Sylvie said.

‘What?’

‘I
am
Sylvie Hampshire. But it isn’t Sylvie Hampshire you’re looking for. Flora took the stupid dress to the stupid shop. It was nothing to do with me. Flora is my sister. My twin sister. She took your stupid T-shirt. I don’t know anything about it.’

‘Twin? Don’t be ridiculous.’ There was a panicked edge to Anthea’s voice. ‘You’re just trying to wriggle out of this.’

‘She is not the one who has made a mistake!’ Auntie said forcefully.

‘You’re
both
trying to wriggle out of this!’ Anthea insisted.

Sylvie undid the clasps of her vanity case. She lifted the lid. The rubber smell of her plimsolls wafted upwards. ‘I’m going to show you something,’ she said. ‘If you tell anyone about this, I will be forced to take immediate and desperate action.’ Sylvie reached into the case and pulled out her purse. It was a neat little thing. Dad had brought it home from Japan as a present. It had a bright pink flap that folded out like a book cover. Inside the flap was a place for a photograph.

Dad had put a photo there. It showed him and Mum before they split up, with their two twin toddlers – Sylvie and Flora – dressed like something from a Victorian nursery. It was horribly embarrassing, but Sylvie hadn’t thrown it out for some reason.

She leaned forwards and waved the purse under Anthea’s nose. ‘Me. My twin sister,’ she said.

‘Twins?’ Anthea was obviously dazed. The car lurched left before she got it back under control. ‘Twins?’ Then a
slow feline smile spread across her face. ‘Well, that changes things. To be honest, I was going to threaten Mrs Adesina here with deportation. But I wasn’t completely convinced that the threat would be enough to persuade you – or, rather, your sister – to hand over the T-shirt. After all, Mrs Adesina isn’t
her
granny. But to save you? To save her sister? Her twin sister? Well, that’s a different kettle of fish, isn’t it? I’d say that was much better bait. Sit tight. I think you’re staying with me for a while.’

Sylvie looked at Auntie. Fear and panic flashed between them.

What would the police commissioner do now?

They were moving through traffic. Cars and buses and cycles ran parallel with them, but Sylvie knew the drivers couldn’t see past the tinted windows, couldn’t hear if they shouted, couldn’t help them now.

Then the car turned, just beyond the hospital, into a rough, overgrown bit of ground that sometimes served as a car park on very busy days. There was no one there now.

No one except for one white van, parked at the far end of the open ground.

The car drove over gravel. The stones crunched beneath the tyres and the car slowed right down.

The van was parked beside some scrubby bushes.
A tall man got out of the driver’s seat. Anthea pulled her car alongside and killed the engine. She got out and pulled open the back door.

‘Get out,’ she said. ‘You’re going with Omar.’

Sylvie unclipped her seat belt, grabbed her things and got shakily to her feet. She could feel her heart pumping, her blood racing. She tried to take deep breaths, the way actors with stage fright did. If she didn’t calm down, she would burn too much energy. It felt like a long time since she’d eaten that Mars bar.

The deep breaths didn’t work.

Omar opened the back door of the van. The inside had metal sides and a wooden floor. A couple of grey woollen blankets had been hastily thrown down. ‘Get in,’ he said.

‘You can’t do this! It isn’t right!’ Sylvie said.

‘
Get. In
,’ Omar said quietly.

Sylvie got in. Auntie scrambled up behind. It was uncomfortable, cold and smelly, but more than anything else it was terrifying, as Omar closed the door on them and plunged them into darkness.

Minnie called Jimmy. He sounded pleased to hear from her, and then she told him that they were on the industrial estate, with Marcus wrapped in packing tape and Sylvie and Gran missing.

‘What?’ he said. ‘What have you been doing? I told you I was investigating.’

‘I know,’ Minnie said, ‘but we couldn’t wait. Please, don’t be angry, just help us find Gran and Sylvie.’

‘Have you any idea where they might be?’

‘We think the police commissioner is involved,’ Minnie said.

‘What?’ Jimmy said again. He sounded as though the air was gone from his lungs. ‘
What?
I don’t …
What?
Listen. I’ll be there in ten minutes. You can explain everything to me then. And you’d better have some good evidence this time.’

He hung up.

The others had overheard most of the conversation.

‘Do you think we’re in trouble?’ Andrew said.

‘Yes. But as long as Sylvie and Minnie’s gran are OK,’ Piotr said, ‘that’s all that matters.’

There was nothing left to do but wait for Jimmy.

Then they heard a phone ring.

It came from Marcus’s pocket. His hands were taped behind his back.

‘You get it,’ Minnie said to Piotr.

Reluctantly, Piotr reached into Marcus’s jacket and pulled out the phone. He looked at it and handed it to Minnie.

The caller ID said ‘Anthea Swift’.

‘Should I answer it?’ Minnie asked.

‘She’s got Sylvie,’ Flora said. ‘You have to answer it.’

Minnie held the phone to her ear. ‘Hello,’ she said warily.

‘Who’s that?’ said the voice on the end of the line, a voice Minnie recognised.

‘This is Minnie Adesina. Where’s my gran?’

‘Why, hello, Minnie.’ Anthea Swift’s voice was silky and assured. ‘I was expecting Marcus.’

‘He’s a bit tied up right now.’

‘I see. Is he hurt?’

Minnie looked at Marcus, still on the floor, still scowling. ‘No, he’s not hurt.’

‘Good, because I’d hate to see any violence done on
either
side. Do you understand?’

Minnie knew a threat when she heard one. ‘I understand.’

‘I knew you were a bright girl. Now, here is what is going to happen. You are going to release Marcus. He will bring you, and only you, to a rendezvous point. You will bring with you the green T-shirt that Flora stole. I will take the green T-shirt. Your grandmother and your friend’s sister will then be dropped back home entirely unscathed.’

‘And if I say no?’

‘Then your grandmother and your friend’s sister will both wish you had not.’