Then something happened to convince her that jumping was the only option. Scuffling noises outside the loo. Oh no. Natasha! Clemmy moved into position and jumped. As she did she heard the lavatory door open behind her.
… Outside the window …
Natasha was waiting in the shadows.
When she saw the two small feet emerge from the lavatory window, she grinned. The busy little body was not as smart as she thought she was.
Pressing herself against the building, Natasha watched as her nemesis climbed out and perched on the window’s ledge. Just as Clementine Bird was about to drop down to the ground, Natasha rushed forward and caught hold of her feet.
‘Got you!’ she said. She pulled Clemmy down and promptly fell over with the weight.
‘How can someone so small be so heavy?’
‘I’m not small, I’m nine,’ insisted Clemmy, forgetting for a moment that things were looking extremely grim. What on earth was Daddy going to think if she vanished?
Natasha pushed her towards the waiting cab. ‘Zis time zere will be no mistakes. I will get zat shirt, because if I don’t, you will lose something very precious to you.’
‘What’s that?’ Clemmy asked, although she had a fair idea.
‘Your life!’
... In Mrs Mac’s living room ...
‘Ello Mrs Mackleberry.’
Mrs Mac’s blood froze and she almost dropped the phone. She’d recognise that voice anywhere. That evil girl, Natasha Commonov!
‘Are you zere, large woman?’
Finding her voice, Mrs Mac said, ‘Yes, I’m here. What do you want?’
I have someone with me who wants a word.’
The phone was passed over.
‘Mrs Mac, it’s Clemmy.’
‘Clementine Bird, where are you? Why are you with that girl?’
‘She er ... kind of grabbed me again.’
‘What? How did that happen? It’s night time. You should be in bed! Where is your father?’
‘In a restaurant. He thinks I’m in the loo.’ Clemmy realised she didn’t have much time.
‘Listen, Mrs Mac, Natasha wants me to tell you to bring the shirt but...’
There was a scuffling sound and Natasha came back on the line.
‘Zat busy little body can’t seem to do as she is told, can she? Get zat evidence ready, old woman, and wait for my call.’
... Outside the Retired Spies’ house in Hampstead ...
Lucinda was in the kitchen, screaming at Marisol to wake up, so didn’t notice the unfortunate-looking young man in a silver jumpsuit enter her home.
Hench stood in the vestibule of the messy house and wondered where to put the device. It was a special canister full of gas. Natasha told Hench the gas wouldn’t kill anyone, but it would fry their brains. Hench didn’t know what frying a brain entailed, but it sounded quite painful – like the time he got his big toe stuck in Mumsie’s toaster.
Looking around him, he considered the dust and cobwebs. What an attractive house! It reminded him of home. Houses in Slakistan were like this – only crazy people wasted their time house cleaning.
Now, where to put the gas canister? The toilet? No, the water might do something to the gas, and Natasha would be livid.
Perhaps under the carpet in the hall? No, there would be an obvious lump under the rug.
Up in the filthy light fitting above his head? No, too high. A giant would need to place it, not an ordinary man like Hench.
He moved to the lounge room. The fireplace? Yes, the fireplace was perfect. Plus, it was so big and the room was so dark that Hench could hide in there as well and listen for Natasha’s call.
Pushing the canister up into the chimney, Hench settled into the black dust of the fireplace. He positioned his hand on the trigger and waited.
… Finding herself pushed towards a cab …
Clemmy Bird sensed it was no use struggling. Natasha seemed more crazed than usual, and besides, Clemmy had her own plan forming.
There was only one way to get rid of Natasha once and for all – as well as keeping Mrs Mac safe.
Patting the shoulder bag wrapped around her body, Clemmy took comfort in the fact that Natasha had no idea the infamous shirt was in her bag.
She stuck her hand in her bag and reached for Alice’s phone. She had keyed Mrs Mac’s number in earlier that evening, just in case!
Carefully pressing ‘call’, she turned the volume on the phone right up.
‘Look,’ she said, before Natasha could speak. ‘You seem to really, really want that shirt, so maybe I should tell you where it is.’
That got her attention.
‘Do you zink I am stupid, you busy little body? What do you know about zat shirt?’
‘I know where it is,’ Clemmy crossed her arms. ‘There is no use hassling Mrs Mac. I took it from her.’
Natasha’s stunning eyes cast a shadow over Clemmy’s small form. ‘You better not be lying, you bite-sized brat.’
‘It’s true, I swear it.’
Natasha’s almond eyes flickered over her. Clemmy winced. Would she believe her?
Finally Natasha spoke. ‘Tell ze driver where to go zen.’
Clemmy leaned forward and instructed the driver to head towards Tower Bridge.
Natasha twitched suspiciously. ‘How can it be hidden at Tower Bridge? Zere are thousands of people walking past zere everyday.’
‘Why would I lie to you?’ asked Clemmy. ‘It’s pretty easy to disprove?’
‘Good point,’ said Natasha through gritted teeth. ‘If you lie to me, I will push you into ze Thames and zen move on to deal with your sad sack of a father and zat old Mackleberry woman.’
Although she was angry at the thought of Natasha harming Daddy or Mrs Mac, Clemmy remained calm. After all, she had the upper hand at the moment, even if Natasha didn’t realise it.
Carefully, Clemmy reached back into her bag and ended the call on her mobile phone. She prayed Mrs Mac had heard enough.
… Back in the restaurant …
Horatio Bird was becoming worried.
‘Excuse me?’ he asked a passing waitress.
‘Don’t you like your pide, sir?’
‘No, the pide is fine. It’s my daughter. She has been in the lavatory for a long time. Could you please check on her?’
The waitress smiled, nodded and headed towards the bathroom.
Horatio Bird gnawed his fingernails nervously. Since his wife had disappeared, he was extra protective of Clem. She was all he had left.
At the other end of the restaurant, the bathroom door opened. The waitress reappeared, a worried look on her face.
… On Tower Bridge …
Clemmy noticed that it was much colder now. It might be because she was way up on a bridge, but she suspected it had more to do with being alone in the pitch dark with Natasha.
‘Right, twerp, zis is it. Tell me where zat shirt is, or go swim with ze fishes.’
Although she knew exactly what that meant, Clemmy tried stalling for time: ‘What is that?’
Natasha came up very close to her and whispered, ‘Stop ze stalling. Get me zat shirt, you busy little body!’
Moving even closer, so close her long dark hair brushed across Clemmy’s face, Natasha pointed towards the bridge.
Honestly, Natasha had no respect for personal space! Even so, Clemmy couldn’t help noticing how nice her hair smelled. Mummy’s hair had smelt like that.
Natasha took her by the shoulders. ‘What are you waiting for? Where is ZAT SHIRT?’
‘Over there,’ Clemmy pointed to the middle of the bridge.
Natasha observed her incredulously. ‘What, on ze balustrade?’
‘In a plastic bag stuck on the pillar – on the water side.’
Dragging Clemmy with her, Natasha marched over to the pillar, and let her go while she leaned over the rail of the bridge, looking for the shirt.
With Natasha’s back turned, Clemmy unzipped her shoulder bag.
&nbs
p; ‘Look,’ she called to Natasha. ‘Here it is.’
Spinning around, Natasha’s eye’s glistened at the sight of the bloodied shirt, and luckily failed to notice Clemmy had lied to her again.
‘Finally,’ said the crime princess, reaching out her hand, ‘It is mine.’
‘Rocky road and radishes, stop!’ said a voice behind them. ‘Don’t you give her that shirt, Clementine Bird. Don’t you dare.’
… Back at the restaurant …
Origami Pete and Stu were trying to placate Horatio Bird, but Clemmy’s father was in a definite panic.
‘She’s a kid. A tiny child. Where could she go?’
Pete and Stu looked at each other. They couldn’t help but think that Clemmy might have met with foul play. However, the policemen decided to keep the horrifying thought to themselves. For now.
‘Detective,’ Horatio Bird interrupted his thoughts. ‘Are you going to find my daughter, or are you just going to stand there?’
Origami Pete patted Horatio Bird’s back sympathetically as he and Stu hurried from the pide restaurant.
‘Where to, now, Stu-san?’ asked Pete.
‘We’ve already issued details to everyone, including the airports,’ said Stu. ‘Hopefully someone will find her. In the meantime, let’s start driving around. She might have just gone for a walk.’
… Back on London Bridge …
Natasha glared at the old woman. ‘Get lost, Mrs Cackleberry. Zis has nothing to do with you now.’
Cackleberry! Pretty funny, thought Clemmy, momentarily forgetting the dire situation.
‘Oh yes it does, Miss Commonov.’ Mrs Mac pulled herself up to her full height of five foot one and marched over to Natasha.
‘Most of my career was spent trying to put Vladimir Commonov behind bars. I know you love your father, but you must know he isn’t exactly a model citizen.’
‘So,’ Natasha looked at Mrs Mac, bored.
So bored in fact she didn’t notice Clemmy edging away from her with the shirt.
‘Crackers and blue cheese! Whether or not your father killed the man whose blood is on that shirt, there are still many other murders to consider!’
Mrs Mac was sounding quite hysterical. Clemmy wished she hadn’t come. Who would have thought she would venture out so near to supper time? Clemmy expected her to call the police and carry on eating. Why are adults so unpredictable?
‘Don’t you know anything about ze law, old woman? If zey can’t prove he killed zat man, he goes free. And what do crackers and stinky cheese have to do with anything?’
Mrs Mac scowled, ignoring Natasha’s rudeness. ‘What about all those other poor souls your father has hurt?’
‘Zey are like my father, zey know ze game. Zey deserved it.’
Mrs Mac’s voice cracked. ‘I’ll have you know that your father was implicated in the death of my fiancé and fellow spy, Steven Conner.’
Mrs Mac had a fiancé! Clemmy was shocked. Mrs Mac seemed so, well, single.
‘A spy?’ Natasha laughed out loud. ‘Danger goes with ze job description, you old bag. Now, if you don’t mind, I have evidence to get to France.’
With that, Natasha turned around abruptly, to find Clemmy Bird dangling from the railing of the bridge, waving the shirt over the water.
‘Noooooooooooooo,’ she yelled, running towards the small girl, who was holding tight to the slippery painted rail.
Clemmy turned and spoke to Natasha sternly.
‘It’s for your own good, Natasha. It’s stealing, and from what Mrs Mac says, your father doesn’t sound like a very nice man.’
‘You don’t know anything about it, you miniature maggot. GIVE ME ZAT SHIRT!’
‘Sorry,’ Clemmy shot her a neat little smile and dropped the shirt over the bridge.
Natasha and Mrs Mackleberry raced to the railings and all three of them watched as the shirt ballooned out like a parachute, then floated slowly down towards the dark water of the River Thames.
… In the police car a few miles away …
Origami Pete and Stu jumped as the radio crackled to life.
‘Sighting of the Bird girl. Called in by a cab driver. Apparently she is on Tower Bridge. The cabbie says she was taken there by a sulky dark-haired girl in her early teens.’
A teenager? Origami Pete shook his head. Natasha Commonov? It couldn’t be! She was supposed to be thousands of miles away, at school.
‘Right, we’re on the way.’ said Stu, reaching out to switch the radio off.
Next to him, Origami Pete looked worried. ‘Do you think Short Stuff-chan is okay?
‘Let’s just get there, shall we?’ Stu flicked on the siren and lights and picked up speed.
Pete closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If the girl on the bridge was Natasha Commonov, Short Stuff-chan might be in real danger.
This was all his fault. He should never have given her that phone!
Chapter Twelve
Explosive happenings
CLEMMY BIRD WONDERED WHAT NATASHA WAS GOING to do to her now that the shirt was gone. Perhaps it was time to make a run for it? But the older girl was still staring at the Thames, watching the shirt gathering water. White became grey. Grey, slowly, slowly became black.
Mrs Mac grabbed Clemmy’s arm and pulled her towards the road.
‘Come on dear, it isn’t safe here with her.’
At that, Natasha turned around. ‘Zat’s for sure, old woman. You two are going to pay for zis. Starting with a little brain surgery, Commonov-style, for ze old spies in the Hampstead house.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Mrs Mac asked, but Natasha was hunting in her slick leather shoulder bag and didn’t answer.
Clemmy looked about. The cab driver had decided to leave the scene, which meant he clearly wasn’t working for Natasha.
And, there was no sign of that puny Hench, or any other Commonov henchman. So it was two against one. But what on earth was Natasha up to?
Natasha took out her new phone. It was a duplicate of the one Clemmy had in her bag – the one Pete had loaned her.
‘Do you know what zis is?’ she asked them, clearly not interested in an answer. She began fiddling with it.
‘Well it’s not a ham sandwich!’ said Mrs Mac.
‘Hilarious, Cackleberry. Zis phone is ze way I will signal my servant to set off a special surprise for your ignorant old friends.’
‘What sort of surprise?’ asked Mrs Mac.
‘An insidious gas zat will zap zere brains. They will become, as you English say, brain dead.’
Mrs Mac stared at Natasha. For once, she was speechless.
Clemmy piped up: ‘How? Where?’
Natasha laughed out loud, enjoying the moment. ‘10 Rothman Street. One call and my man is going to blow zere minds.’
Clemmy was so shocked she couldn’t speak. She took a step back and tripped on some loose paving. As she fell onto her backside, something in her bag made a clunking sound.
Oh no! Clemmy hoped her new mobile phone was intact. To say nothing of Natasha’s phone, which Pete needed back in one piece.
Unbeknownst to Clemmy, deep in her bag, Natasha’s phone began dialing the last number Natasha had called – an unlisted number in Slakistan.
... In the Slackbean’s cafe in central Slakistan ...
Igor’s phone rang.
‘Look Igor,’ said his friend Leo, carefully putting his coffee down and peering at the display. ‘It’s Miss Natasha.’
‘No, can’t be,’ said Igor, grabbing the phone off the table. ‘That’s her old number. Besides, I’m too busy to deal with that rude girl now.’
He pressed a couple of buttons.
‘There!’
‘What did you do?’
‘Forwarded the call to her bodyguard, Hench. Let him deal with her!’
... At No 10 Rothman Street ...
Hench heard his mobile ring. Just to be sure, he checked the number. Hmmm. He didn’t recognise the number. ‘Maybe Natasha has borrow
ed a phone?’ said poor, silly Hench to himself.
‘Ello, Hench Henchman speaking?’
There was no answer.
Was Natasha going to speak? Or was she just going to call?
Hench couldn’t remember. In fact, his head was beginning to hurt from all the thinking. Never mind. He was supposed to wait for a call and here it was.
It was time to set the device.
He pressed the ignite button on the top of the canister.
A green light began to flash.
... Meanwhile, back on Tower Bridge ...
Meanwhile, Mrs Mac was gasping. ‘Not the Retired Spies’ house. How could you?’
Another grin. Natasha held up her mobile. ‘I am ringing my servant now. When he answers, he will set ze device. And you can kiss your friends and their secrets goodbye.’
‘You wouldn’t!’ Mrs Mac’s voice was pleading.
Without further comment, Natasha spoke into the mobile in her native Slakistanian.
Then she turned back to Mrs Mac and smiled.
‘I just did.’
... Back at No 10 Rothman Street ...
Hench’s mobile phone rang again almost immediately. He picked it up. Natasha! This time the display clearly showed it was her.
Oh oh! Hench gulped. What had he done?
The Littlest Detective in London Page 10