Mystery at the Ice Hotel

by Sara Grant

  TO THE EXTRAORDINARY LIBRARIANS, TEACHERS, FACULTY AND STUDENTS OF THE BROXBOURNE SCHOOL. IT’S A PLEASURE TO BE YOUR PATRON OF READING. KEEP READING AND WRITING!

  AND

  TO JESSICA WEBSTER FOR WINNING BROXBOURNE’S FIRST CREATIVE WRITING COMPETITION. CHECK OUT HER STORY AT THE BACK OF THE BOOK!

  Contents

  Cover

  Title page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  The Saboteur

  Jessica Webster

  About the Broxbourne School

  Copyright

  I slammed my back against the tree trunk and locked eyes with Mackenzie. She was crouched behind another tree a few feet away. Our breath puffed little clouds in the icy air. I slowly scanned our surroundings. No sign of them anywhere, but they were out there, waiting to attack.

  Snowflakes fluttered down, blanketing the forest in silence. We had tracked them here, but they had zigzagged in the snow to mask their exact hiding spot.

  What was that?

  My body stiffened. The sound was no louder than the flutter of wings. Or was that the crunch of snow under tiptoe?

  There it was again. Mackenzie’d heard it too.

  We were sitting ducks if we stayed here. They were better trackers. They’d lived in this forest all their lives, running every inch of it. What chance did we have to outsmart them? But we had to try.

  I gestured to Mackenzie that it was time to move. She nodded. My gloved hand counted down.

  Three … two … one…

  We bolted from hiding, lunging forward from tree to tree. The snow was more than a foot deep, and we struggled to move in our snowsuits and boots. The protective gear and our heavy breathing deadened our senses. We didn’t hear them coming.

  “AAAHHH!” Mackenzie screamed as Killer pounced on her from behind.

  I whipped around in time to see Rocky spring from his hiding place and shove me to the ground. His paws pinned my shoulders. His piercing blue eyes studied me. I knew what was coming. I closed my eyes and buried my face in the hood of my snowsuit.

  His slobbery tongue licked my cheek. Yuk! I wrapped my arms around his fluffy black fur and tumbled in the snow with him. “You caught me,” I said, and scratched him behind the ears.

  Mackenzie was giggling and wriggling in the snow, failing to fend off Killer’s doggy kisses.

  “Chase! Mackenzie!” My grandma was calling us. “Mackenzie! Chase!” Her voice twisted among the trees.

  The huskies froze. Their ears pricked up. I leaped to my feet and tried to determine where the sound had come from. After our game of hide ‘n’ seek with the dogs, I was a bit lost.

  “A little help?” Mackenzie asked as she flailed in the snow. They didn’t have model-sized gear here. The smallest snowsuit was still a size too big for Mackenzie. She’d belted it at the waist. Only she could make bulky snow gear look Paris– catwalk awesome.

  I checked the new chunky, silver sports watch Grandma had given me. Actually she’d given Mackenzie and me complete new winter wardrobes because we’d lost everything when pirates had attacked our island in the Maldives. That seemed a lifetime ago, even though only two weeks had passed.

  This weekend Grandma would launch her new business – a dating app for singles over sixty-five years old – at a resort inside the Arctic Circle in Sweden. And her first guests were about to arrive.

  I helped Mackenzie up and asked, “Which way?” I could almost see her computer-like brain whirring.

  “This way.” She pointed to the right.

  “Killer! Rocky!” Robert, the lead musher, shouted. The dogs dashed in the direction Mackenzie was pointing.

  “Come on,” I said, and tore off after them.

  Within seconds the huskies had raced out of sight. We followed their tracks to a small airport as a private jet landed on the almost entirely snow-covered runway.

  “There you are,” Grandma said, and waved us over to the airplane hangar. She hugged us close. “Remember our cover story?” she whispered. Mackenzie and I nodded. After someone had tried to kill Mackenzie in the Maldives, we made sure everyone believed that the bad guys had succeeded. Mackenzie Clifford was presumed dead. It was the only way to keep her safe. “You are my two granddaughters; you’re cousins,” she reminded us.

  I stared at Mackenzie, finding it difficult to believe that anyone could think we were related, but so far no one had questioned it. We were both fourteen, but other than our age, we were complete opposites. She was black. I was white. She was raised in London. I grew up on a farm in Indiana. She was tall and thin. I was short and athletic. She was a computer genius and had created Grandma’s new app. I was better at anything sporty. She looked ready for a photo shoot with always-glossed lips, painted nails and perfect red-brown spiral curls that created this hair halo. I was ready for action. My wardrobe usually consisted of T-shirts from fun runs and bike races. My long blonde hair was always tied back. If we were family, she had inherited most of the good genes, and I made do with the leftovers.

  “When you were shouting for us, you called her Mackenzie,” I corrected Grandma.

  Grandma shook her head in frustration. “What am I supposed to call her?”

  “Berkeley,” Mackenzie and I said together.

  “Berkeley, that’s right.” Grandma nodded. She wasn’t usually so absent-minded, but I could tell she was worried about this weekend and her new business. “Remind me. Why Berkeley?”

  Mackenzie got to pick the fake name that fit her new resurrected persona. “Berkeley was the name of a famous White Hat Hacker,” she explained. “She blew the whistle on several really bad companies…” On and on she went about techo-gobbledygook.

  “We get it already,” I griped.

  “Anyway, ladies,” Grandma said to draw our attention back to the here and now. “How do I look?” Grandma combed her fingers through her short silvery hair. Everyone else wore the standard blue-and-black snowsuits issued by the Winter Wonder Resort, but Grandma’s suit was bright red to match the Love Late in Life logo. She was pretty amazing for sixty-nine years old. “I’m going to greet our guests. You help Shauna. This is her first big event-planning job. I want everything to go well.” She smoothed on red lipstick and pinched her already rosy cheeks. “And so it begins,” she said, and walked towards the plane parking outside the hangar.

  “Her first job?” I didn’t know that.

  “Shauna pursued Ariadne for months,” Mackenzie whispered. “Ariadne didn’t give her the job at first, but Shauna sent a huge binder with every detail of Ariadne’s launch weekend planned, and Ariadne changed her mind. She loves someone with tenacity.”

  I’d have to remember that: Never take no for an answer. I liked Shauna even more for her tenacity.

  Shauna rushed over. Like always she had her black messenger bag slung across her body and her clipboard in her hand. Shauna had to-do lists and timelines that mapped out every minute. You’d never guess that she was only nineteen.

  “This is thrilling!” Shauna beamed. “Are we ready?” She looked from Mackenzie to me but didn’t give us a chance to respond. “Of course we are! Team Love Late in Life! High five!” She raised her
hand, and we didn’t leave her hanging. “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! I’m going to collect the luggage and drive it to the resort.” It was weird how she sounded posh and British like the Queen even when she was talking fast like a sports commentator. “I’d be ever so grateful if you could check in our guests and show them to their assigned dogsleds.” She handed the clipboard to me.

  I batted it away. “Aren’t these the VIPs?” I asked. “Are you sure you shouldn’t check them in?”

  “You can do it!” She clapped. For a second I thought she might break into a cheer. “We reviewed this at our pre-event meeting last night.” She cocked her head and smirked at me. We’d gone over the itinerary and what everyone was supposed to do and when they were supposed to do it, like, a million times. Mackenzie had memorized it so my only plan was to follow her. “Ariadne will greet the grandparents and you’ll make the grandchildren feel welcome.”

  Shauna had suggested inviting single grandparents and one of their grandchildren. Grandma loved the idea of Mackenzie and me having kids our own age around. I thought it was a weird PR stunt, but Shauna said if the grandkids were happy then the grandparents would be too. The grandparents were potential investors and influential friends of friends. If the VIPs liked the app and had a good weekend then Love Late in Life would be a success. Tonight was the VIP party. Tomorrow the rest of the guests would arrive to launch the app with events and activities planned nearly every hour.

  Mackenzie took the clipboard and ran her finger down the list of names. “I assume dogsled number one is up front with Rocky and Killer leading the pack. They are statistically the fastest…” Mackenzie and Shauna continued with their mind-melding geek speak.

  “Here they come,” I said as a mismatched grandmother and granddaughter marched towards us. The grandmother was tall and lanky with her hair pulled in a tight bun. The girl was all curves and long, wavy brown hair, which she flipped from side to side as she sauntered a few steps behind her grandma. From the photos Shauna had given us, I recognized retired headmistress Lucinda Sterling and her nineteen-year-old granddaughter Alexia.

  “I’ll see you back at the resort,” Shauna blurted and hurried off. She suddenly seemed nervous. It was her first big gig. It must be like the jolt of panic I felt at the start of a race; even if I had trained, I was always mega jittery for the first few minutes.

  “Hello, Mrs and Miss Sterling,” I said, and tugged off my gloves. I extended my hand. Mrs Sterling shook it. Alexia slipped a mobile phone out of her tiny purple handbag that matched her ridiculously inappropriate heels and tapped on the screen. “I’m Chase and this is Berkeley. Welcome to the Arctic Circle and the launch of Love Late in Life. A weekend to melt hearts and make memories.” I said the slogan just as we had practised with Shauna.

  Alexia rolled her eyes.

  “I love your Prada,” Mackenzie said to Alexia. I assumed she meant the handbag and shoes. Mackenzie loved all that stuff. Alexia didn’t even look up from her phone. Rude!

  I consulted Mackenzie’s clipboard. “You and Alexia are on the last dogsled. Bingo and Bongo are your lead dogs.”

  “I am not travelling by dog,” Alexia said, still focused on her phone.

  “It will be an experience,” Mrs Sterling said, standing straight and tall like a soldier at attention.

  “It will be cold,” Alexia whined.

  “There are loads of blankets on the sled,” I informed them. “We have extra coats, hats and gloves, or we can give you your snowsuits now.”

  Alexia crinkled her nose as if she’d whiffed something gross. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “The ride will be scenic, my dear,” Mrs Sterling said, her tone so flat that even I didn’t think it sounded fun any more.

  “It will be smelly,” Alexia said, and crossed her arms high across her chest.

  Mrs Sterling looped her arm around my shoulders as if we were old friends. She steered me a few feet away. “I’m sure you can find a nice car to take us to the resort,” she told me. “We don’t want to upset Alexia, do we, Charlie?”

  Actually we don’t care about your spoiled brat of a granddaughter. “I’m Chase,” I corrected.

  “Yes, yes, whatever.” Mrs Sterling flapped her hands to shoo me away. “Run along and find us a car, will you?”

  Ooooh, they were so annoying. My fingers curled into fists. I was about to tell the Sterlings what they could do with their special requests, when I spotted Grandma checking the dogsleds. Grandma. I still found it hard to believe that I had a real live grandma at last. I’d met her for the first time a few weeks ago. This weekend was super important to her. I didn’t want to mess up with one of her very important guests.

  “You and Alexia can ride in the SUV over there.” I pointed to the vehicle and driver both sporting the resort logo. Shauna, Mackenzie and I were supposed to ride in SUVs so we would arrive at the resort before the guests on the sleds. Shauna must have already left. Mrs Sterling didn’t even say thank you as she showed Alexia to the SUV.

  When everyone had checked in and were snuggling on to their dogsleds, I explained to Grandma and Mackenzie what had happened.

  “You can take their places on the last dogsled,” Grandma said. “I’ll lead the way with Robert, Killer and Rocky.”

  I gave an excited little jump and teeny, tiny professional yippee!

  “Are you sure it’s not too snowy for a dogsled ride?” Mackenzie asked, squinting at the ceiling of dark clouds, which were so low I thought I could touch them. “London would have shut down from this much snow. I’d say there’s thirty-three centimetres at least and another twenty is expected over the next twenty-four hours.”

  “Darling Mac … um, I mean, Berkeley,” Grandma said, giving her a nudge towards the sled. “The dogs and sleds are built for this.”

  “Yes, of course,” Mackenzie said, but she didn’t sound so sure.

  “It will be fun,” I reassured her. “It’s much better than taking a stupid ol’ car to the resort.”

  Grandma nodded her agreement. “I’m very proud of you both. Now mush!” she said, and mimed cracking a whip.

  I greeted each dog attached to my sled with a stroke on the head while Mackenzie settled at the back of the sled closest to where the musher guy was standing ready to guide the dogs.

  “Where are the seat belts?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Just hold on tight,” the musher told her. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks for letting me ride up front,” I said, and plopped in front of Mackenzie. I wrapped the pile of blankets around us.

  “You know the dogs don’t stop to relieve themselves so if they need the loo they just go while they’re running,” Mackenzie said, and didn’t even try to hide her smile.

  “So you mean I’m in the poop line of fire?” I exclaimed.

  She shrugged. “You wanted to do this.”

  “Hike!” the musher called and the dogs took off.

  “Woohoo!” I shouted as we sped through the trees. The snowy landscape seemed to flash past frame by frame like an old-time movie. This didn’t seem real: the wind stinging my cheeks; the trees stretching ice-covered branches towards us. The snow fell thicker and faster, creating a curtain of white as if we were flying into a dream world.

  The musher was kissing the air to make the dogs go faster and faster.

  Crack!

  It took me a minute to register the sound. Had something broken on the sled?

  We swerved to the left dangerously close to the line of trees. The sled bumped over icy ground.

  “Gee!” the musher yelled. The dogs pulled to the right.

  Mackenzie wrapped her arms around me to keep us from flying off. My gloved fingers gripped the cord that stretched the tarp to the runners.

  What was going on? I tried not to show my panic. If I freaked out then Mackenzie would be hysterical. Maybe this was normal for a dogsled ride.

  The musher screamed. It wasn’t a command. I looked back in time to see him tumble to the g
round. The dogs didn’t seem to notice; if anything it felt as if they were running faster without a musher to guide them.

  We were on a runaway dogsled. If we didn’t do something quickly, we were headed for an icy crash!

  Mackenzie screamed. The sound must have upset the dogs because the team that had run in perfect synchronization shuddered and jerked but never slowed. “Ch-Chase … wh-what…” she stammered in my ear and locked her hands at my chest.

  “Hold on to the sled,” I told Mackenzie. We were gaining on the sled ahead. I had to try to control our dogs

  “Stop!” I shouted.

  No response. The dogs raced faster and faster. Trees whizzed by on either side, only an arm’s length away.

  “Whoa, that’s the command to stop the dogs,” Mackenzie said and then shouted, “Whoa!”

  “Whoa!” We shouted at the top of our lungs, but it was no use. The dogs didn’t respond.

  The musher on the sled directly in front of us must have overheard. He glanced back; his mouth gaped open in shock.

  “Watch out!” I yelled at him.

  “Haw! Haw!” the musher commanded his dogsled and steered his team out of our way.

  “Move! I can’t stop! Watch out! Help!” Mackenzie and I screamed again and again as we passed the rest of the dogsleds. Each musher expertly manoeuvred their team away from us, but their faces contorted in shock and horror. Now I was freaking out.

  “Chase! Mackenzie!” Grandma shrieked as we passed the final sled. She reached for us, but the musher held her back.

  I was raised by my ex-United-States-Navy dad, and he told me never to panic in an emergency. I took a deep breath and then another, trying to calm down. I looked back, hoping that one of the mushers would come after us, but the other sleds were already out of sight.

  “Chase?!” Mackenzie’s voice trembled with fear. She hugged me so tightly I thought she might squeeze me in two.

  The dogs were trained for one purpose – to rocket through the icy tundra – and they showed no signs of stopping. We couldn’t simply jump from the sled. With the trees so close, and at this speed, we would break every bone in our bodies.