‘Send him in!’ Madame cried, in a hoarse, panicky voice. ‘And get me Operation Miniver on the telephone! I want Ron Burton down here as quickly as possible. If Titus thinks he’s going to get away with this, he’s got another thing coming!’
At six o’clock that evening, after a solitary meal of bacon, egg and toast, Emily departed on operations. She was not looking forward to her job in what they now called the Control Van, but in the hours since her talk with Rosamund she had come to terms with what she had to do. Emily took with her the radio, a headset, and Gibraltar’s handwritten instructions. She left Rosamund still writing her speech on the lounge-room floor, screwing up page after page and tossing them over her shoulder. Emily knew Rosamund had never written anything before in her life. She could only hope, for all their sakes, that her sister would be able to pull it off.
Gibraltar wrapped Emily in a blanket, and she lay on the floor of Livia’s car as he drove her to his caravan. It had been decided that to run the operation from Livia’s house would be too risky, and that the van would be the next best choice. By the time Gibraltar and Emily arrived at the vacant allotment where the caravan was parked, it was just on dusk. Gibraltar turned into the broken-down driveway and bumped over the grass to park beside the van. As he killed the engine, the night air was filled with the sound of cicadas.
Gibraltar unlocked the van. He looked around carefully first, then whisked Emily straight inside.
‘Goodness!’ said Emily, as she pushed back the blanket. ‘What a lot of books!’
‘Yes. There are, aren’t there?’ said Gibraltar. The lower of the van’s two bunks and the whole of its tiny table were covered in books and papers. ‘You can have a look at them, if you like. Wait here, and I’ll get the radio.’
Emily climbed up onto the bench beside the table. The books were thick, and looked very serious, but her eye was caught by a picture on the jacket of one of them. It showed a portrait of a handsome middle-aged woman, and rather to her surprise Emily recognised it. She had seen the original many times in Papa King’s study. The book was titled Queen Rosamund of Artemisia: A Life, and the author was Peter Barnabas, Gibraltar’s real name.
‘You wrote this!’ said Emily, as Gibraltar came back into the van. ‘Queen Rosamund was Papa King’s mother. Rosamund was named after her.’
‘That’s right,’ said Gibraltar. ‘Fortunately, there’s not much resemblance. Queen Rosamund was a rather frightening woman.’
‘I don’t know much about her,’ admitted Emily. ‘Papa King was very fond of her, but I never heard him mention this book.’
‘Since he wasn’t very happy with me for writing it, it’s hardly surprising,’ said Gibraltar. ‘That’s one of the few copies still around. Papa King had all the others confiscated and destroyed.’
This was such a disturbing piece of information that it took Emily a few moments to process it. ‘Was that why Papa King sent you away?’ she asked in a worried voice.
‘No,’ said Gibraltar. ‘As a matter of fact, Papa King and I always got along very well. We disagreed about practically everything, but he once told me I was the only person he knew who was not afraid tell him the truth. No. The reason he sent me away was because I helped saved his life.’
‘You saved Papa King’s life?’ exclaimed Emily. ‘How?’
‘It was mostly Millamant’s doing,’ said Gibraltar. ‘She found out there was a plot against him: I just took him the warning. You see, in those days Milly worked in the Archives as a cleaner. I was writing my book, and we knew each other well. One night, Milly saw Madame’s mother, Susan, go into the Most Secret Room. She realised she was up to no good, so she locked her in and asked me to warn Papa King that something was afoot. That was how the whole plot came out. It turned out Susan had forged a will naming Madame as the next Queen of Artemisia and put it in the Most Secret Room. Madame was caught that same night, creeping into Papa King’s bedroom when she thought he was asleep. She was trying to set fire to his bed.’
‘But – he’s her father!’ Emily stammered. ‘You really mean, Madame tried to burn her own father to death?’
‘Why should it surprise you?’ returned Gibraltar. ‘Madame has absolutely no conscience: you should know that by now. Of course, it was all kept secret. Papa King couldn’t bear to have Madame publicly punished; for all her faults, he loved her very much. She and her mother were sent away, but all the details of what happened are stored in the Most Secret Room. That is why Madame is so desperate to find it.’
Emily considered this. ‘Milly must know where it is,’ she said. ‘Did she ever tell you the secret?’
‘No,’ said Gibraltar. ‘Papa King would have sworn her to silence and he trusted her. I was different. I knew too much, and so I was told to leave. Papa King was sorry about it. He even tried to give me money, but he would not change his mind.’
‘And now you’re back.’ Emily looked up at Gibraltar, her expression puzzled. ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand. Rosamund and I are Papa King’s foster daughters. If he treated you so badly, why are you helping us?’
‘Because Milly wrote and asked me to,’ said Gibraltar. ‘And because I feel sorry for you. Papa King tried to turn you and Rosamund into some sort of ideal replacement daughters, but he never gave you the chance to be yourselves. I’d like to think, when all this is over, that you can stop being Minivers, and find out who you really are.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Emily sadly. She was sure Gibraltar was right, but finding out who you really were was no consolation for a girl who had thought she was famous, and found out instead that she was nobody at all.
It was eight o’clock, and Ron Burton was still at Operation Miniver Headquarters. Apart from the girl answering the Minivers Hotline, he was the only person in the building. All the security team was out, on Madame’s instructions, scouring Artemisia for Titus. There was still no news, and Ron was just deciding he could not wait any longer, when the telephone rang.
Ron snatched it up. ‘Yes? What is it?’ he said to Primrose, on the other end. ‘You missed him again? What on earth is he doing? That’s the third Arnie Miller he’s been to visit. This is getting crazy.’ He picked up a pencil and wrote some notes on a scribble pad in front of him. ‘Okay. So Titus is obviously trying to find a particular person. No, I’ve no idea what he’s trying to do. Madame didn’t say. Just find out exactly how many Arnie Millers there are in Artemisia and send a team to all their houses. Report back to me when you’ve done that. Anything else you can tell me?’
‘They’re all old men,’ said Primrose. ‘One was eighty-three, and the other was ninety. The third one wasn’t home. He was carted off to hospital last week with a broken hip. Speaking of hospitals, how’s Alex?’
Ron looked at his watch. ‘He’s due out of the operating theatre any time now,’ he said. ‘I must go to the hospital. Sandra will be waiting for me. Keep up the search, Primrose. I’m leaving you in charge for the next two hours.’
With a nod to the girl on the switchboard, Ron grabbed his keys and hurried out to his car. It was only a short drive to the hospital, and though Madame would be angry when she found out he had left Primrose in charge of the operation, Ron did not care. He parked and ran up the hospital steps. A signboard pointed him in the right direction, and he headed towards the lifts. The hospital foyer was full of people, and a fair head was bobbing along among the crowd in front of him. Ron looked at it blankly a moment, then suddenly started pushing his way towards it.
Titus was not aware that he had been seen, but he was moving quickly, and reached the elevator lobby before Ron did. He followed a nurse into a crowded lift. The doors closed in Ron’s face and it started heading upwards. Ron shoved a couple of people out of his way and ran for the stairs. He was very fit, but the lift was a fast one and he had no way of telling where it was stopping. On the fifth floor he saw the nurse who had got into the lift before Titus.
‘The man with fair hair – the one who got into the lift with you
– where did he get off? Quick, it’s important. Operation Miniver.’ Ron flashed his pass and the woman’s expression changed.
‘Downstairs, two floors down – tell me, have you found Emily and Rosamund yet?’ the nurse called after Ron, but he was already running for the stairs. He took them two at a time, bumping into a pair of doctors coming up and not even stopping to apologise. He emerged on a floor labelled Orthopaedics, and suddenly something Primrose had said flashed into his head. Panting, Ron ran over to the nurse’s station.
‘Do you have a patient here called Arnie Miller?’
The nurse consulted a chart. ‘Ward 2A,’ she said. ‘Bed Sixteen. You can’t go in though, he’s got another visitor. His son’s just arrived –’
Ron took his pass from his pocket and flashed it at her. ‘Call hospital security,’ he said. ‘If Arnie Miller’s son’s got fair hair and is wearing black jeans, there are people who want to speak to him very badly. Including me.’
The curtains around Arnie Miller’s bed were drawn when Titus entered the ward. He could see a nurse’s feet moving around under its cotton edge and hear hushed conversation as she spoke to the patient. Three people were lying in the other beds, a man with a broken leg, and two ancient women. There was a smell of sickness and disinfectant.
The nurse emerged from behind the curtain. ‘You can go in,’ she said. ‘Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t know you, though. He’s very muddled.’ She held back the curtain and Titus slipped around it. ‘Arnie? Your son Titus is here to see you.’
Titus stepped forward. A very old man was lying in a bed with an oxygen mask on his face. His breathing was shallow and his skin was yellowish. When the nurse spoke, his eyes flickered open. They fixed on Titus, looking confused and puzzled, and then they closed again, with a slight shake of his head.
‘Don’t be upset,’ said the nurse. ‘He’s got pneumonia and the oxygen isn’t getting through to his brain. He’s very weak, but he can tell you’re there.’
Titus nodded. He sat down on a plastic chair beside the bed and the nurse withdrew. Titus leaned forward, close to Arnie Miller’s ear, and began to speak. He spoke for some time in a low voice and after a minute or so, the old man said something back. Titus listened intently. It was hard to make out exactly what the dying man was saying, but as he listened, his pale face settled into an expression of triumph. There would be no more guessing now about the location of the Most Secret Room. Madame could do her worst.
He knew.
12
Radio Free Minivers
‘This is 98.5FM, Radio Artemisia, and you’ve been listening to “Stop the Noise”, the great single from new band Brain Dead. Coming up, we have the latest from Goth girl, Tracy T, a song from Venom, and an oldie but goodie from the Toe Rags. And remember, Radio Artemisia is guaranteed One Hundred Percent Minivers-Free Listening. Crazy Caro with you until 4 a.m. Venom now, with their new song, “Don’t Bite”.’
The wail of guitars filled the glass booth where Caroline Melville was working the late shift. Caroline was very proud of her job as Radio Artemisia’s newest DJ. It was true she sometimes felt like a vampire, working at night and sleeping during the day, but her career had to start somewhere. One day, Caroline intended to be a breakfast announcer and crack jokes with Tony de Burgh, Radio Artemisia’s star DJ. It was Tony de Burgh who had come up with the idea of a Minivers-Free Radio Station, and Tony who had first played the eight-year-old Rosamund Miniver’s terrible undubbed version of ‘Miniver Morning’.
Caroline secretly liked the Miniver sisters’ music. She knew perfectly well that lots of the other singers whose music Radio Artemisia played were just as over-dubbed as Rosamund, without the excuse of being eight years old. Just now though, it was not a good time to mention this. If bagging the Minivers was what it took to get her off the late shift and onto the breakfast show, then she had no choice but to say how much she hated every song they had ever made. Caroline had never been a girl to let the truth get in the way of what she wanted.
She cued up the next few tracks, took off her headphones and popped her head out into the main office. Simon, the station technician, was intent on the documentary he was piecing together for Tony. It was called The Miniver Deception, and it had to be ready for broadcast the following morning. Simon looked tired and ill-tempered, but Caroline knew he was always like this. She smiled brightly, and said, ‘Any chance of a cup of coffee?’
‘I suppose I could put the jug on,’ Simon said in a grudging voice. ‘How do you like it?’
‘White with two. Thanks.’ Caroline smiled again, for she believed being nice got you what you wanted. She handed Simon her empty coffee cup and he shambled off in the direction of the kitchen.
Simon flicked on the lights and filled the jug. He put the coffee in the cups and reached for the biscuit tin. It was unexpectedly light, and when Simon took off the lid, it was empty.
‘What …’ Simon peered into the tin, but there was not a crumb left inside. There had definitely been biscuits in there earlier, half a packet of orange creams, which were his favourites. Simon frowned. He knew that Caroline had not been out of her booth since her arrival, and Bruce, the security guard, was downstairs. But if neither of them had eaten the biscuits, where had they gone? At that moment, the jug boiled and a black-clad intruder slipped past the kitchen door and down the corridor. Simon was too busy making coffee to notice. It was only later that he realised the missing orange cream biscuits had been important after all.
Outside, behind the fence that ran along the back of the studio carpark, a group of girls waited in a breathless huddle. They wore dark clothes, and their faces were blackened. Bridget and Carla were carrying a plastic crate labelled AAF. Fiona wore a backpack filled with Minivers CDs, and Mo had a rope slung over her shoulder.
‘Tania’s taking an awfully long time in there,’ Fiona whispered.
‘I knew letting her go first was a dumb idea,’ said Carla. ‘You should have let me set the place on fire, the way I wanted to.’
‘And bring in the fire brigade? Don’t be an idiot,’ said Bridget. ‘We’re trying to help Rosamund and Emily, not get ourselves caught.’
‘All the same,’ said Carla wistfully, ‘it would be much more exciting than waiting about like this.’
As she spoke, there was a soft footfall, and a slim dark shape slithered through a gap in the fence. The gang sprang to attention. Tania plopped down breathlessly on the ground and tossed a bunch of keys at Fiona.
‘Got them.’
‘Tania! You found the keys!’ exclaimed Fiona delightedly. She looked at the tag, but it was too dark to read it. ‘Are you sure they’re the right ones?’
‘Of course,’ said Tania, shoving the last of an orange cream biscuit into her mouth. ‘I got them out of the top drawer of the station manager’s desk; it was dead easy. The best news is, there’s hardly anybody in the building. Just an announcer and one guy upstairs, and a security guard downstairs in the reception.’
‘The guard’s the one who’s mostly likely to cause trouble. We’ll deal with him first,’ decided Bridget. She held her hand out for the keys. ‘We’ll go in through the back door. Tania, what’s the best place for an ambush?’
‘CD library, I’d reckon,’ said Tania. ‘I couldn’t see a phone in there, and the window’s very small. I’ll lure the guard inside, and you can lock him in. Come on. I’ll show you where it is.’
One by one, the girls slid through the gap in the fence. They found themselves in a dingy yard at the back of the radio station. A single light burned in one of the upstairs windows, but the building looked otherwise deserted. Like a line of ants, the attack force scurried across the asphalt to the back door. While the others crouched behind an industrial bin, Bridget quietly opened it with the key.
‘Tania, you come with me,’ she whispered. ‘The rest of you, wait outside.’
Tania and Bridget disappeared inside the building. Behind the bin, Fiona clicked on her radio and spoke s
wiftly and softly into the transmitter.
‘B-Team calling Control Van. B-Team calling Control Van. This is Fiona. Over.’
There was a pause, and then Emily’s small voice sounded briskly in her ear. ‘Control Van here, B-Team. State your position. Over.’
‘We’re outside Target One. Bridget and Tania are securing the ground floor. Any word from G-Team? Over.’
‘G-Team has arrived safely at Target Two. No news yet. Report when you’re all inside. Over.’
‘Roger, Control Van. Over and out.’
Fiona snapped off the radio. The door opened and Bridget reappeared. At the same time, Tania oozed like a shadow from a high narrow window, and somersaulted lightly down into the carpark.
‘We got him!’
Somewhere inside the building, a male voice was yelling for help. Bridget beckoned the others hastily through the door. They hurried down a corridor, past the CD library, where the imprisoned Bruce was kicking at the door. His shouts had evidently been heard, for as the attack team reached the flight of stairs at the end of the passage, a second person called out from the landing. Immediately the girls moved into position, Mo and Carla on either side of the stairs.
‘Bruce? Is everything okay?’ The voice sounded like a young man’s. As he ran down the last few, darkened steps, Mo and Carla jerked up their rope across the foot of the stairs. The newcomer tripped and went sprawling. Tania jumped on him. She dragged a sack over his head, and instants later, he was trussed up like a chicken ready for roasting.
‘Mo. Stay here and guard the prisoners. The rest of you, follow me.’ Bridget jerked her head, and Fiona, Carla and Tania ran after her up the stairs. At the very top, they almost bumped into Caroline, who had come to see what was happening to Simon and Bruce. At the sight of the four desperate figures in black, she gave a terrified scream and fainted.
The Minivers Fight Back Book 2 Page 11