The Littlest Detective in London

by Suzy Brownlee

  The first call must have been a mistake! He quickly switched off the device, completely forgetting Natasha’s instructions that switching it off would deactivate it permanently.

  Natasha’s voice hissed into his ear.

  ‘Set it, Hench, then get out of there.’

  ‘Da, Miss Natasha.’

  Hanging up, Hench flicked the switch on the top of the canister. This time the green light didn’t flash but Hench was too busy trying to extricate himself from the fireplace to notice.

  He raced from the living room, past the shocked retired spies, who were now snoozing in the living room.

  Ratcat hissed angrily at Hench as he ran past, raising a scrawny paw that caught a thread on the silver jumpsuit.

  The cheap, shiny nylon began to unravel.

  Puffed out from running the twenty metres to the road, Hench stopped and stared at the house. Something should be happening by now.

  It was then Hench tried to recall whether the green light was flashing when he pressed the button the second time.

  Finally, Natasha’s words of earlier in the day came back to him. The device couldn’t be reset. It wouldn’t work!

  Oopsie! Miss Natasha was going to be cross!

  Hench realised he had better get out of there, and fast. As he started running, he felt a cold breeze on his bottom.

  Thanks to Ratcat, his silver jumpsuit was coming apart – a huge hole expanding with every step he took.

  … In the police car …

  The radio startled the two policemen once again.

  ‘Control to car 46, Stu, Pete, are you there?’

  Pete took up the handset. ‘Konbanwa, Radioperson-san, what’s up?’

  ‘Forget Tower Bridge, we’ve got bigger problems. Apparently there is some sort of toxic threat at a house in Hampstead. We need to clear the area, and fast. Emergency team is on its way.’ Control informed them the house was the headquarters of the Retired Spies Network.

  Stu swung the car around, nearly hitting a couple of pedestrians who were kissing on the footpath. The girl made a rude sign at them.

  ‘What about Clementine Bird?’ Stu asked the Controller. ‘We still haven’t found the kid.’

  ‘She’s okay. The lady who called in the threat has the child with her. Somehow it’s all connected.’

  Origami Pete began to wonder if there really was some strange plot against the Retired Spies. But why?

  … On Tower Bridge …

  When Mrs Mac told Clemmy she needed to get to a phone, there was no way Clemmy wanted to offer the use of Alice’s phone.

  What if Mrs Mac told her father about it, and he confiscated it? Clemmy needed the phone to help her in her quest to find Mummy.

  Then she remembered she still had Natasha’s phone, tucked away in her bag. Perfect. She pulled it out, and passed it over to her babysitter.

  Mrs Mac spoke in hushed tones, and then handed the mobile back to Clemmy.

  ‘Well, apparently everyone is alright. The device didn’t go off.’

  ‘What was zat, Cackleberry?’ said Natasha.

  ‘Your device, dear. It didn’t work.’

  ‘What!’

  Mrs Mac was enjoying the moment. ‘Yes dear. Everyone is safe and sound!’

  ‘HENCH!’ said Natasha. ‘I’ll kill him.’

  ‘Who is Hench again?’ Mrs Mac asked Clemmy.

  ‘That spindly little man who drives her car.’ In spite of themselves, Clemmy and Mrs Mac sniggered at the thought of skinny, hapless Hench.

  Natasha decided enough was enough.

  ‘Zis is not over,’ she said, pointing at Mrs Mac. ‘You will pay for what you did to my family.’Mrs Mac shrugged. She was bored by Natasha now, and already thinking about where her next cake was coming from.

  Natasha turned to Clemmy. ‘And as for you, bite-sized brat. You will pay for throwing zat shirt into ze Thames.’

  Clemmy raised her arm. ‘Talk to the smelly armpit, Natasha.’

  Natasha looked as if she wanted to hit her, but was distracted by a car horn. Everyone turned to see a dilapidated white sedan stopped on the bridge.

  ‘Daddy!’ Clemmy called, as her father attempted to cross the bridge, dodging honking motorists. He made it and she leapt into his arms.

  ‘I thought I had lost you!’ he said, words muffled in her jumper. ‘Why did you run away?’

  ‘I didn’t. Someone took me.’

  ‘What? Oh my poor little Pumpkin!’

  Clemmy Bird looked at him sternly. ‘I may be small Daddy, but I can take care of myself.’

  Beside them, Mrs Mac laughed. ‘She’s telling the truth there, Mr Bird. I’ve never met such a tough white chocolate chip cookie.’

  ‘But who took you, Clem?’ asked Horatio Bird, ignoring Mrs Mac.

  ‘A girl from Slakistan. And she’s right …’

  Clemmy turned to point to Natasha but the crime princess was gone. There was only the faint hum of quick footsteps way down the end of the iron walkway, walking towards Embankment station.Then Clemmy saw a piece of paper blowing against the railing. She picked it up.

  On it someone had written C. Bird and drawn a strange black cross.

  Clemmy didn’t know what the cross meant, but it couldn’t be good. She folded the paper and shoved it in her pocket. She wouldn’t worry about it now. Natasha was gone, hopefully for good.

  ‘Come on Clem. That strange policeman said you were telling tall tales about a teenage girl who you thought was trying to hurt Mrs Mac. You mustn’t tell lies, Pumpkin. There is no teenager here.’

  Looking to Mrs Mac for help, Clemmy realised Mrs Mac wouldn’t tell Daddy about the Retired Spies Network, so couldn’t back her up.

  ‘The child has a vivid imagination, Mr Bird, that’s all.’ Mrs Mac gathered them up and pushed them towards the car.

  ‘Now, why don’t we all go home. I could do with some nice scones, with jam and cream. And maybe some fries on the side!’

  … In the tube on the way to her five star hotel ...

  Natasha Commonov couldn’t believe she had now been subjected to public transport twice in a week. First a bus, and now this putrid, crowded carriage full of mutant humans. Hadn’t people heard of deodorant?

  To pass the time, she counted the ways in which she could do away with Hench.

  Stuff him in a suitcase and mail him to Alaska? Tie him to the hands of Big Ben and hope for lightening to strike?

  Better still, tie him to the underneath of a migrating whale and let him become a shark snack?

  That bumbling pinhead Hench! All he needed to do was press one little button, and he couldn’t even do that. A blind monkey with no arms would have been a better choice of accomplice!

  A be-suited man sank into the seat next to Natasha and opened his broadsheet newspaper. The pages fluttered in her face.

  ‘Hey! Move zat paper from my face before I do something you’ll regret.’

  The man’s mouth popped open and on seeing Natasha’s blazing eyes, he quickly folded the paper, squeezed himself out of the seat and hurried to the other end of the carriage.

  ‘Zat’s more like it. No one outsmarts a Commonov. No one. Zat busy little body better watch out. Because the next time I see her, she is going to pay for butting into my business.’

  If Natasha thought things couldn’t get worse, she was in for a shock. As she exited the tube station at St Paul’s, a horrific sight greeted her.

  Hench, ambling along the road towards the hotel, wearing only the top half of his jumpsuit, a trail of string in his wake.

  Since she didn’t want to be seen talking to a sight like that, she called him.

  ‘Ello. Hench Henchman, boobyguard to Natasha Commonov, speaking.’

  ‘HENCH! You imbecile!’

  ‘Er, ah, um...’

  ‘Where is ze bottom half of your repulsive silver jumpsuit?’ Natasha spat. ‘And why on earth aren’t you wearing underpants?’

  ‘I don’t wear underpants, Miss Natasha.’

>   ‘Why not?’

  ‘It ruins the line of my silver jumpsuit.’

  The ensuing scream of ‘imbecile’ could be heard at least as far as Croydon.

  And the screech alerted Hench to the fact that Natasha was only across the road.

  He decided there was only one thing to do.

  Run.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The end that is just the beginning

  Natasha’s diamond-encrusted mobile phone rang. Clemmy wondered if it was wise to answer it, but when it kept ringing she couldn’t resist. Besides, Daddy was dozing in front of the TV in the next room, and she didn’t want him to wake up and find out she had a mobile phone – especially one owned by Slakistanian gangsters.

  ‘Hello?’

  A deeply accented laugh rang in her ear. ‘You sound like such a baby on ze phone, little pestective.’

  Natasha!

  ‘I think the word you are looking for is detective,’ said Clemmy, ‘and I’m not a detective. I’m just an ordinary girl.’

  ‘An ordinary girl who is a very large pain in ze neck.’

  ‘Nice cliché, Natasha. What do you want?’

  ‘Just thought I’d tell you zat I figured out how you foiled my ingenious plan.’

  ‘Did I?’ Clemmy had no idea what she meant. ‘Well if I did, it was an accident,’ she paused, ‘although I am glad it happened. You shouldn’t hurt people, Natasha. How would you like someone to fry your brain?’

  ‘Shut up, you bite-sized brat. You are going to be very sorry for interfering in my business.’

  ‘Really?’ Clemmy felt a stab of fear run down her back, then she reminded herself – courage! Plus, Natasha was hopefully a long, long way away.

  ‘I doubt that, Natasha.’

  ‘Your mother, you busy little body. I know something you don’t. So if you want to see your mother again, you’d better stay away from me. Or else I’ll pay her a visit with an upgrade of my brain-frying device.’

  ‘Mummy!’ cried Clemmy. ‘What do you know about my mother?’

  But Natasha just laughed and hung up.

  And Clementine Cordelia Bird burst into tears.

  ... In the Slackbean’s cafe in central Slakistan ...

  Igor was trembling.

  ‘What if she kills me?’ he asked of his old friend Leo. ‘I am too young to die.’

  His friend slurped his thick, black drink. ‘No you’re not. You are sixty. You’ve had a good life.’

  Some friend.

  ‘Natasha Commonov has failed in her plan,’ continued Igor, ‘and she says it is all because of Hench, and therefore all because of me.’

  Leo nodded philosophically. ‘Things might have been quite different if you had sent another Henchman brother. Any other Henchman brother!’

  ‘But what can I do?’ asked Igor. ‘Should I run?’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Leo replied. ‘Running is hard work. Better to stay here and enjoy the coffee until she comes back and does away with you.’

  Igor shrugged in agreement. Of course, his old friend was right.

  Nothing was worth physical exercise.

  Not even death.

  ... A little while later in London ...

  Clemmy contemplated throwing Natasha’s horrible phone away. She couldn’t stand the fact it was there in her room, reminding her of evil Natasha and her nasty words.

  How dare she say she was going to hurt Mummy!

  Clemmy turned the phone around and around in her hand, thinking. If she threw it away, poor Origami Pete might get into trouble.

  As she turned, she noticed a few words at the base, near where the battery housing was.

  The words were in English.

  Miracles Mimic Years.

  What on earth did that mean?

  And why was it in English?

  ... A few days later ...

  Clemmy and Origami Pete sat on a bench in Chelsea near the Thames. Although it was a grey day, the shiny new buildings that stood on the Battersea side of the shore made it a cheerful place to sit.

  ‘Here you are, Short Stuff-chan’ said Pete, handing her a perfect paper swan in an effort to cheer her up. When Pete had called Horatio Bird for an update he was told Clemmy had been sad and listless. Her father was very worried, so Origami Pete had offered to see what he could do.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Clemmy, thinking she would place it on the shelf above her fireplace, where she kept all her special things, like Mummy’s book. Oh dear – Mummy! Clemmy’s bottom lip began to quiver but she forced herself to be strong.

  Origami Pete beamed at her. Even though she was miserable, she attempted a smile in return.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ said Clemmy. ‘I’d better give this back. Turns out I didn’t need it.’

  Natasha’s phone was no use to her now. She had tried every number to try and find Natasha and ask her more about Mummy, but no luck. Finally, the phone had been disconnected.

  ‘What were you going to use it for?’ asked Origami Pete.

  ‘Nothing, really.’ She had thought she might be able to convince Natasha to accept the phone for the shirt, but it didn’t really work out that way. She didn’t expect Natasha to have a brain-frying device.

  ‘So the phone was useless then?’

  Natasha had said the device failing was Clemmy’s fault. Maybe falling on her bag had caused some sort of problem? Clemmy had noticed the phone had called an unlisted number. But who did it dial?

  Clemmy still wasn’t sure exactly how she had managed to save 10 Rothman Street, but according to Natasha, save it she had. ‘Maybe, maybe not.’

  ‘Ah so.’

  Then Clemmy remembered the words on the phone. ‘I did find these words, look Pete.’ And she pointed out where Miracles Mimic Years was scratched into the base of the phone.

  ‘Hmmm, intellesting. But why are these words in English?’

  ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Well, maybe you’ll find some other words and everything will make sense!’

  Suddenly, Clemmy thought about the other words, the ones from the Old Spies’ house. Careful Little Elves. No, that didn’t help. If Mummy’s four stars meant the old spies were the Elves, they had nothing to do with miracles, did they?

  ‘Well, don’t worry about that girl anymore. I think I have something to help you forget the nasty teenager.’

  ‘Really?’ Clemmy knew that wasn’t possible, given she now knew Natasha was somehow involved with her mother. Still, she loved presents. And it would be rude to refuse, wouldn’t it?Pete handed her a bag. ‘You’re father told me about your favourite book. I had this made.’

  ‘Oh.’ Clemmy didn’t really want to be reminded of the book. The book reminded her of her mother, and Natasha’s threat.

  ‘I like the sound of this book,’ said Origami Pete. ‘In Japan we are very serious about poetry!’

  He patted the bag. ‘Go on, Short Stuff-chan, look inside.’

  Clemmy opened the bag. Inside was a tiny little mobile phone accessory. And on it the word

  ‘Quella’

  Seeing it, Clemmy suddenly realised something.

  Careful Little Elves Miracles Mimic Years. It might mean nothing, but it was definitely eery. If she took the first letters of each of the words, it spelt out C - L - E - M - M - Y!

  Her own name, in the two clues she had discovered. Which meant she was somehow linked to Natasha! Maybe it was a coincidence, but to Clemmy it was definitely a sign.

  Why should she give up?

  Why should she fear Natasha Commonov? Mummy was strong, and Clemmy would be strong too. Besides, it was more than likely the evil Natasha was lying about hurting Mummy.

  Right then, Clemmy made a resolution. She would continue to use the poem to search for Mummy. Those old spies must know something. She was now more sure than ever the poem contained clues to Mummy’s whereabouts.

  And it didn’t matter if Daddy didn’t agree. She must find Mummy. She must!

  She felt a ta
p on her shoulder.

  ‘Does Short Stuff-chan like it?’

  ‘Of course I do!’ Clemmy said excitedly, taking out Alice’s mobile phone and attaching it.

  ‘But do you know what it means, this ‘quella’?’ asked Origami Pete, pointing at the shiny jewel.

  Clemmy grinned. ‘Of course I do!’

  ‘Ah so?’

  ’It’s about a girl.’

  ‘A girl?’

  ‘A girl. A girl who is the one.

  ‘The one?’

  ‘The brave one. The one who has courage.’

  Pete nodded wisely. ‘Definitely a good description of you, Short Stuff-chan.’

  ‘And you know what? I am the one who is going to find Mummy, and bring her safely home.’

  She turned and smiled at the policeman.

  ‘You just wait and see!’

  THE END

  ALSO AVAILABLE IN STORE AND ONLINE

  THE LITTLEST DETECTIVE IN PARIS

  BOOK TWO in the LITTLEST DETECTIVE series