Kat Wolfe on Thin Ice

by Lauren St. John

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  For Ruth Wilson,

  with love and heartfelt thanks for reminding me, when I needed it most, why stories matter

  SPY CRAFT

  The slower the traffic moved, the faster Kat Wolfe’s heart beat.

  Thud-thud it went, as brake lights flared and the speedometer jerked from seventy miles per hour to zero.

  Thud-thud-thud as the taxi driver turned up the radio, which announced that a spill of oranges was causing long delays on the motorway up ahead.

  Thud-thud-thud-thud as the minutes ticked by and the pained sighs of the driver and tense breaths of Kat and her mum, Dr. Ellen Wolfe, and Harper and her dad, Professor Theo Lamb, steamed up the windows.

  “I don’t mean to sound like a stuck record,” said Dr. Wolfe, “but are you girls absolutely sure you have your passports?”

  Harper plucked hers from a pocket. Kat searched her rucksack with increasing desperation. She was ready to declare a national emergency by the time Harper discovered it wedged between the seats.

  “What are best friends for?” said Harper with a grin.

  It was barely 11:00 A.M., but already Kat’s heart had endured more palpitations than a high-wire walker’s in a gale.

  At dawn, it had spiked when her alarm shocked her awake. Though it was still dark and rain pummeled the windows of her attic room in Bluebell Bay on England’s Jurassic Coast, she’d squealed with excitement.

  In just seven and a half hours, she and her veterinary surgeon mother, who seldom took a break and deserved one more than anybody Kat knew, would be escaping the dullest, drizzliest October ever and taking an actual proper holiday.

  Better still, they were going on vacation with Harper and her dad to the United States, the Lambs’ home country.

  Best of all, they’d be spending eight days in New York.

  “Oh, Kat, what I’d give to be in your shoes,” veterinary nurse Tina Chung had said dreamily as Kat bolted a bowl of Choco Krispies. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the bright lights of Broadway, the glamour and glitz of Fifth Avenue, the Metropolitan Museum—you’ll be doing it all. Hopefully you’ll also get a chance to twirl through the autumn leaves in Central Park.”

  “Fall,” Kat told her. “Harper says that in the U.S. autumn is mostly known as ‘fall.’ And I don’t think we’ll have time for any of those things. Except for twirling through the leaves. There’ll be plenty of leaves in the wilderness.”

  “Sure, there are wild bits in Central Park, but I’m not aware of any—”

  “Not Central Park, although we might catch a glimpse of it when we stop over in New York City on our way back. For the first week we’re going to the Adirondack Park in upstate New York. It’s about a five-hour drive from the city. A friend of Professor Lamb’s has loaned him a cabin in the wilderness. Apparently, there are bears. Bobcats too! And moose! I can’t wait.”

  Catching sight of the clock, Kat flung down her spoon and dashed off to finish packing.

  Twelve trips up and down the stairs in search of lost gloves, a missing pajama top, and the mystery she’d saved to read on the plane had sent her heart rate rocketing again. But what really pushed it into the red was trying to find Tiny, her not-so-tiny, half-wild Savannah cat. He’d gone off in a sulk as soon as the suitcases appeared.

  “I can’t leave without saying goodbye to him, I just can’t,” cried Kat as her mum shepherded her up the garden path. The taxi was waiting, engine snarling.

  “You can and you will if you don’t want to make us late for our flight,” said Dr. Wolfe. “It’s a three-hour journey to London’s Heathrow airport, and that’s only if the traffic is kind to us. Anyway, you’ve already said the longest goodbye to Tiny in history. You know very well that Tina will take excellent care of him.”

  “Don’t worry, Kat,” the nurse reassured her. “I promise to feed Tiny world-class fish dinners and play mouse-toy games with him every single day.”

  “Hear that, Kat?” said Dr. Wolfe. “World-class treats and mouse-toy games. Five-star cat-sitting, he’ll be getting. Now you can relax.”

  And with that, she’d more or less shoved Kat into the cab.

  Of course, like most parents, Ellen Wolfe was a great deal better at dishing out advice than taking it. When her phone rang as she was sliding onto the back seat, her daughter shrieked, “DON’T ANSWER IT!”

  “I have to.” Dr. Wolfe leaped out of the car as if the seat had caught fire. “It might be an emergency.”

  “That’s exactly why we’ve arranged for a locum to help me look after your patients while you’re gone—to deal with emergencies,” chastised Tina. “He’ll be here within the hour.”

  “Yes, but what if it’s urgent?” The vet dug her phone out of her pocket. “Bluebell Bay Animal Clinic, Ellen Wolfe speaking. How may I help you?”

  Twenty-five minutes later, the Wolfes and the exasperated taxi driver were finally on their way, leaving behind one patched-up Jack Russell and one beaming owner. Kat was smiling too because she’d found Tiny hiding in the wardrobe and had been able to give him an extra-special cuddle before leaving.

  “Travel safe. Stay out of trouble!” Nurse Tina called, as the driver revved the engine like he was on the starting grid of the Monaco Grand Prix.

  “We’re going on holiday—there won’t be any trouble!” Kat yelled out of the window as they zoomed away.

  “There will be if there’s a holdup on the motorway,” grumbled the driver. “Your holiday will be delayed, then.”

  “That’s why we’ve allowed tons of extra time—so we’d have wiggle room if anything went wrong,” Dr. Wolfe informed him sweetly. “Turn left at the junction. We have to make a quick stop to collect our friends.”

  There was nothing quick about it. Professor Lamb, a paleontologist, was on the phone dealing with a dinosaur inquiry. Kat and Harper took advantage of the delay to run down to the field to give farewell kisses to Charming Outlaw, their shared horse.

  Eventually, the taxi left Bluebell Bay. The driver radiated disapproval at their tardiness, predicting fog, flat tires, and other catastrophes up ahead.

  “It’ll be gridlocked around Winchester—don’t say I didn’t warn you …

  “You’ll wish you’d left earlier if we hit roadworks near Basingstoke…”

  When he could bear it no longer, Professor Lamb said, “Sir, thanks for your concern, but I’d appreciate it if you’d let us do the worrying.”

  * * *

  For one hundred kilometers, they flew along without a care. Vacation spirit filled the car. Dr. Wolfe and Professor Lamb sang country songs at the top of their lungs. Kat and Harper bantered about the terminal uncoolness of parents and made thrilling plans.

  Each tried to decide which part of the trip they were most looking forward to.

  For Kat, it was the animals. She thought she might die of happiness if she saw a real bear.

  Harper couldn’t wait to show
Kat the maple trees in their fall finery and introduce her to American buttermilk pancakes. British pancakes were never the same.

  Dr. Wolfe pictured herself hiking up mountains by day and drinking cocoa beside a crackling log fire at night.

  It was as Professor Lamb talked dreamily of the hawks he hoped to capture with his new telephoto lens that the taxi came to a screeching halt.

  Ahead, one thousand red brake lights pulsed angrily.

  “What did I tell you!” declared the driver. “It’s always best to leave early. Catastrophe lurks around every corner.”

  His passengers sat in glum silence, watching the clock.

  “We’ll be fine,” said Dr. Wolfe, gripping the door handle with white knuckles. “If this jam clears soon, we’ll easily make our flight.”

  “Yes, we will,” seconded Professor Lamb. “We only have six miles to go and half an hour to do them in. Think positive, kids.”

  Two highway patrol cars screamed past, nearly giving Kat a heart attack.

  The radio crackled. A traffic reporter boomed: “We regret to announce that police are closing the southbound M25 in order to clear an overturned lorry and five tons of squashed oranges. Or should that be orange squash, ha, ha! Expect long delays.”

  “No!” gasped Dr. Wolfe. “We’ll miss our plane!”

  Harper was outraged. “How can they do that? There are ambulances carrying sick patients, and families going on vacation.”

  “This is my fault for delaying everyone at Paradise House,” said Professor Lamb.

  “No, no, it’s mine for seeing a nonemergency patient before we set off,” insisted Dr. Wolfe. “I’m sorry, girls. I’ve ruined everything.”

  “No, you haven’t,” Harper told her. “Me and Kat wasted time too.”

  Kat wanted to cry. Not just because she’d been looking forward to seeing the bears for months but because her mother was so crushed and exhausted. Putting her patients first yet again might have cost her the holiday she desperately needed. It didn’t seem fair.

  “There must be something we can do,” said Harper. “We’re so close. If only we had a hot-air balloon to whisk us over the fields to the airport.”

  Kat’s heart began to race. Harper’s words had given her an idea.

  With everyone distracted, she messaged her grandfather.

  SOSOS!!!

  Her phone lit up.

  Did you mean SOS? Are you in deadly danger again, Katarina?

  No, but it’s sort of an emergency. We have 20 minutes to get to the airport or our holiday is toast. Don’t spose you’re nearby & can work a miracle?

  Nearby, yes. Unfortunately, helicopters can’t land on a busy highway.

  We’re parked beside an empty field!

  Hmm, tricky, but not impossible. En route to London Heliport but will change course directly. Expect me in eight mins. Be ready & waiting.

  How will you find us?

  Do you really need to ask?

  Kat burst out laughing. If the United Kingdom’s minister of defense couldn’t locate his own granddaughter, he wouldn’t be much use at fighting spies or stopping wars.

  “Mum! Harper! Professor Lamb! Everyone out on the roadside with your luggage. The Dark Lord’s on his way.”

  No one would believe her at first, but Lord Dirk Hamilton-Crosse, aka the Dark Lord, was as good as his word. He came flying to their rescue in his own private chopper: a sleek flying machine so futuristic that Harper had nicknamed it the “Spy Craft.”

  The Spy Craft freed them from their traffic prison with ease, levitating above the snarl. It whirled them to Heathrow’s private general aviation terminal at record speed. The cabdriver watched them go, mouth agape.

  They’d been whisked to the gate in moments by a limousine.

  “One minute later and we’d have closed the flight.” The woman at the check-in smiled.

  “Quick, let’s have everyone’s passports,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Professor Lamb rifled through his camera bag once, twice, three times. The color drained from his face. “Harper, everyone, I’m so sorry. I forgot mine.”

  Harper giggled. “Dad, stop kidding around. The whole way here, Dr. Wolfe kept asking me and Kat if we had ours.”

  “Did she? I must have been miles away, thinking about dinosaurs or hawks. What a boneheaded, peanut-brained dingbat I am.”

  He hugged his tearful daughter tight. “I feel terrible, but thankfully, this is easily fixed. I’ll hop on the next train back to Bluebell Bay, grab my passport, and catch the first available flight to New York. You’ll hardly have time to miss me.”

  Kat’s heart was still hammering as she buckled up her seat belt, and not just because they’d had to sprint for the plane. Before they’d even crossed the Atlantic, trouble had found them.

  Before they’d even crossed the Atlantic, they were one man down.

  SLEEPLESS IN THE SLEEPY-TIME INN

  Harper tossed, turned, and tossed some more. The bed linen was scratchy, the pillow crackled in her ear, and the room was stuffy and airless. She felt like a Thanksgiving turkey being broiled alive. She wondered if her dad had had a sleepless night too. He’d be kicking himself for making such a silly mistake, feeling guilty for letting her down.

  You’ll hardly have time to miss me, he’d told her. But Harper missed him now. Each time she shut her eyes she saw him fading into the distance at the airport, shoulders slumped as he prepared to take a series of slow trains back to Bluebell Bay.

  She sat up and put on her sneakers.

  “Where are you going?” Kat asked from the other bed. Her mum was in the next room, soft snores drifting through the connecting door.

  “To get some OJ from the drinks station in the lobby. Wanna come?”

  “Definitely.”

  * * *

  Kat couldn’t sleep either. Too much sugar. On the flight over, the vegan meal had resembled astronaut rations. To stave off starvation, she’d munched her way through an entire bag of Candy Kittens. Her mum didn’t say a word. Following the debacle with Theo Lamb’s passport, she’d gone overboard trying to compensate for his absence and make Harper feel better.

  “Of course you can watch another film,” she’d said when the credits rolled on the first. “Here, have some caramel popcorn. There are Skittles in my bag too if you’re peckish. Yes, you can have more soda.”

  She’d dozed off soon afterward, leaving the girls to watch back-to-back movies and eat junk. By the time Kat emerged, dazed, from the entertainment-fest, they were coming into land at Newark airport. Flipping up the blind, she’d pressed her face to the cold window.

  The Boeing 747 bumped through a gloom of cloud, tipped a wing, and burst into the light. Kat sucked in a breath. The legendary New York skyline was on fire. The setting sun had turned the skyscrapers into towers of molten gold.

  She’d had a bird’s-eye view of the Statue of Liberty, torch held high above the glittering bay, before the plane thudded down. As it sped along the runway, the cranes loading the shipping containers on Newark Bay resembled golden giraffes leaning down to drink.

  Getting through passport control and collecting their bags and the Chevrolet Traverse that the professor’s friend had kindly loaned them, had taken forever. The small and quirky Sleepy-Time Inn was only a short distance away, tucked just off the highway, but it was after midnight U.K. time when they were finally settled into their rooms. Kat had been shattered. She had no memory of getting into bed.

  * * *

  Now it was 5:50 A.M. Kat was buzzing. It was her first visit to the United States. She did not want to miss a thing.

  “We’re the same, you and I,” laughed Brenda, the receptionist, watching Harper put a splash of orange juice in a glass and top it up with crushed ice from the ice machine. “I like OJ with my ice too!”

  Kat filled hers up with juice alone. “I don’t understand. It’s the crack of dawn and chilly outside. Why do you need ice?”

  Harper grinned. “Because ice is
nice!” She crunched up a mouthful appreciatively.

  “Millions agree,” said Brenda.

  She gestured at the reception sofa. “Take a seat if you like. You girls hungry? It’ll be a while till the kitchen staff lays out the continental buffet. Want me to toast you a couple of cinnamon-and-raisin bagels while you wait for your mom to surface?”

  “Yes, please!” Kat didn’t think her mother would mind. Brenda had been on duty when they’d arrived. She’d been so welcoming and helpful when they were exhausted. Besides, Dr. Wolfe’s room was only three doors along the corridor.

  “Okay if I turn on the news?” asked the receptionist as she brought over two warm, plump bagels and a choice of spreads. “This side of the pond, we’re transfixed by the Wish List gang drama. The law caught up with them last week. One of them anyway. They say he’s the ringleader. He appeared in court last night, but this is the first chance I’ve had to watch it.”

  “The Wish List gang?” Harper spread cream cheese thickly on her bagel. “Never heard of them. What’s with the weird name? Is it some bucket list thing?”

  “Good guess, but not exactly. They’re master thieves. Over the last couple of years, they’ve pulled off a string of outrageous heists. Art, rare books, unique antiques—you name it, they’ve stolen it. They’re like ghosts. Different cities. Different targets. The only link between them was a list left at the scene of each crime.”

  “A wish list?”

  “You got it,” said Brenda. “Nine items, written real simple, like a kid’s letter to Santa—if Santa were a billionaire. Number one: a priceless painting. Number two: a Ming vase, and so on. Not that a kid would want a Ming vase, but you get the picture.”

  Kat’s bagel lay untouched. “How did the police catch up with them? What happened?”

  “Same thing that always happens, hon. They got greedy and got caught. Least this one did. Cops are hoping he’s going to rat on the others.”