“Come on,” said Fern. “We need to find out what’s going on.”
They followed the woman into the administrative area. Fortunately Dean Canoodle wasn’t at her desk so they tiptoed up to Professor Buck’s door and listened.
“Keep a lookout, will you?” Fern mouthed.
“You keep a lookout,” said Simon. “I’ll listen.”
“You’re right. I’m a better talker.”
“What do you mean you’re a better talker?” said Simon. “I’m a great conversationalist.”
“Not when it comes to deflecting Dean Canoodle,” said Fern.
“Get out,” said Simon. “I am too. I’ll keep a lookout. You listen.”
Fern smiled smugly and put her ear to the door.
“You did that on purpose,” Simon whispered. “You keep a lookout. I’ll listen.”
Fern tossed her head and chuckled. “You’re so easy, Simon.”
“Shut up,” he said, and snuggled up to the door. Fern moved in next to him and bumped him. He bumped her back.
“I thought you were going to keep a lookout,” he said.
“Pish tosh,” said Fern. “I want to hear too.”
“Wait,” said Simon. “Did she just say ‘metadata’?”
“How can I tell if you keep talking?” said Fern. She put her finger to her lips and pressed closer to the door.
Simon nodded. “Metadata,” he mouthed.
“I know,” she whispered.
Then came the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and the two eavesdroppers raced out of the anteroom like a shot. Simon looked behind them. Good. No one was following them.
“Did you hear that?” said Fern when they’d got a safe distance away. “They were talking about the metadata.”
“I know,” said Simon. “But I couldn’t hear much else.”
“That woman is in disguise and she knows about the metadata. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” said Simon, “but I’m going to find out. I’m going to tail her.”
“Good plan,” said Fern.
Simon ran out the front door and surveyed the parking area. His observation classes with Professor Sidebotham had taught him to recognize every vehicle on campus, so it was easy to spot the visitor’s car, an antique Ford Escort. He picked the lock on the boot (he was as good at that as Amanda, although not as adept as Ivy), opened the lid, and crawled in, lowering the top back down over himself. Within minutes he heard footsteps. Someone opened the door, got in, and started the motor. They were off!
Lila’s phone beeped. She checked the snooper and saw that Simon had left Legatum. It was about time something happened. She poured herself a glass of wine, turned up the volume, and settled back. She couldn’t wait to see what he was up to.
It was a good thing Simon wasn’t susceptible to carsickness like Amanda because the ride was long and winding. They must have driven for an hour before the car stopped and the woman got out. Simon kept stretching as much as he could, but he was tall and there wasn’t much room in the boot with all the junk the woman kept there, mostly tools and emergency supplies, not to mention a spare tire. He didn’t know what someone like that would be doing with all that equipment. He had a hard time imagining her changing a flat or fiddling under the bonnet, but he supposed she carried the stuff in case a Good Samaritan came along to help.
He could hear her stepping onto some gravel: crunch, crunch, crunch. He waited until he heard her footsteps die away and then cautiously lifted the lid and peered out. The view was familiar. He could see trees and beyond them rolling hills still covered in snow, but even though the image resonated he couldn’t place it.
He listened carefully. All he could hear was the sound of birds. They weren’t in a city, that was for sure. He raised the cover and crept out of the compartment and then it hit him. They were at the little church outside Penrith where the kids had found the open sarcophagus, the one leading to the Neolithic tunnels. What in the world would Sidebotham’s sister, or whoever she was, be doing there?
The woman was nowhere in sight. She must have gone into the church because there was nothing else around. Simon tiptoed up to the door and cracked it just enough to see inside. There she was, standing by the organ, putting some papers into the bench. Then she went into the back room where the kids had found the sarcophagus. He opened the door far enough to fit his skinny body through and crept into the sanctuary.
The organ was all the way at the end. Simon noticed that the place was dusty and the woman’s shoes had left prints all over. He wasn’t exactly neat himself but he did wonder at that. He couldn’t imagine a congregation coming in and breathing all that junk every week. Did anyone ever use this place or was it simply for show? Who had set it up and why?
Keeping an eye on the door, he tiptoed toward the organ. No sound was coming from the back room. Had she gone down into the tunnels? If so he would have time to check out the bench. Then he might even follow her down and see what she was up to.
He opened the bench as quietly as possible. A sheaf of papers lay on top of a stack of sheet music. It was covered in what seemed to be random letters and numbers. He stared at it, trying to decipher the meaning, but couldn’t make sense of it. And then suddenly he knew. This was the metadata he’d heard the woman and Thrillkill discussing, the information that made sense of all the secrets in the trove. But what was it doing in some old organ bench?
Clutching the precious sheets, Simon crept in between the pews and hunched down so the woman wouldn’t see him if she came back. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted Fern.
“At church in Penrith. Metadata here!”
Fern answered immediately. She was obviously on pins and needles. “Get pix.”
Simon quickly took pictures of the pages and sent them to her, then uploaded them to the cloud and deleted them so no one could get hold of them if he lost his phone. Then he scrambled back to the bench and replaced the sheets. The bench sure didn’t seem like a secure hiding place. What was this woman thinking, leaving something so precious where anyone could take it—or destroy it. And who was she anyway? Was she really Sidebotham’s sister, and if so why was she wearing that ridiculous disguise?
Suddenly he heard shuffling coming from the back room. He dived between the pews and listened to the woman clack her way to the front door, then exit. He was losing her! He ran for the door and was about to turn the knob when it opened of its own accord and the woman came back in. He ducked behind the open door and watched her as she made her way to the back of the room again. When she had disappeared he raced outside and into the boot of the car. Then he heard her return and start the engine. They were off again.
As the car made its way to wherever they were going Simon viewed the pictures he had taken in his cloud app. He combined and recombined the characters but the codes made no sense. Nuts. He would need Holmes’s help to crack them, and Holmes had been acting pretty weird lately—more so than usual. He wasn’t always the most helpful guy to begin with, but ever since that big blow-up with Amanda and Nick he’d been downright mysterious. He’d also been looking pretty spacy. Then there was that stealing a car thing. Simon wasn’t sure he was capable of helping right now even if he were willing. He hoped the guy would snap out of it soon—for everyone’s sake.
What was up with that church anyway? It was about the least secure hiding place Simon could think of. Was the woman stupid or was her behavior part of some master plan? Was she even one of the good guys? Perhaps she was leaving the metadata there for Blixus, or Taffeta, or heaven help us Waltz. Maybe he should have taken it and run. She would never have known who had stolen it. He was such an idiot. What had he been thinking leaving it there? Wait, he could text Fern and get her to come pick it up before anything happened to it. But what if it was supposed to be there and Buck found out she’d taken it? He’d be furious. Was it better to leave it there? He couldn’t make up his mind.
At least he had pictures of the metadata now, and so did Fern.
Of course the detectives no longer had their secrets, but they could work on that. Secrets and no metadata, metadata and no secrets. Sheesh. They really could use a break.
Suddenly the car stopped and Simon heard the woman get out. It was about time. They’d been twisting and turning all over the place and he wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t suffer from Amanda’s malady after all. He sure felt queasy. He needed some air.
He popped the lid and peeked out. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He was smack in the middle of a shopping center car park and the woman was going inside. Furthermore she seemed to be carrying the metadata. Why in the world would she put it in the bench only to retrieve it and leave with it minutes later? She must have done it awfully quietly because he hadn’t heard a thing. She sure was a weird one. Simon decided that he was going to get to the bottom of this mystery right now.
He climbed out of the boot and entered the mall. The place was packed and he couldn’t see her frumpy blue coat anywhere. Phooey. It looked like he was going to have to search the entire place. Too bad he didn’t have access to the surveillance cameras. He could probably spot her in seconds.
Where would she go? Well, that would depend on who she was and what she needed, and Simon had no idea. What sorts of things did old ladies buy? Stockings? Sweet-smelling stuff? Maybe, but old ladies in disguise might be an entirely different proposition. If this old lady were a detective, or a villain, which might mean that Buck was a mole—yikes!—she might be looking for something a lot less benign than soap. And that might mean . . . a knife perhaps? Was there a sporting goods store in the mall? If so he’d try that first.
He looked around for a directory. Ah, right in front of him. He must be losing it. Either that or he needed new glasses. He sure hoped that wasn’t the case because each pair seemed to work worse than the previous one. His lenses were already so thick you could use them as a coaster. He hated the fact that his vision was so bad. But the doctor had said that corrective surgery wasn’t possible so he was stuck with it.
The directory said that there was indeed a sporting goods store at the other end of the mall, up a flight. Simon power-walked there, which was a neat trick considering all the people in the way. As he rushed toward the far end he could smell freshly baked cookies and despite his aversion to sugar was sorely tempted to stop for a bite, but he knew he had to scoot and bravely passed the treats by. The line was humongous anyway.
When he got to the sporting goods store he discovered that the knives were kept in the camping equipment section. He made his way through tennis rackets, assorted balls, skis, and myriad types of apparel and finally found the camping section hidden away behind a row of socks, which seemed completely illogical. Unfortunately the woman wasn’t there and he could see why. The knives were cheap and trashy, good mostly for peeling veg and cutting bread. What would a detective or arch villain want with those? To stop and make a sandwich on the way to a caper? Bah.
Now what? If he had to go into every store his odds of finding the woman would plummet. In fact they already had. She had probably made her purchase and left. He should have stationed himself near the door and watched for her. What was wrong with him today? He was messing up big time, although he did get those pictures and thank goodness. They were worth a bundle.
Now that he realized he should have stayed near the front door he nearly sprinted back—shoppers notwithstanding—just in time to see a man with a sheaf of papers under his arm get into the old woman’s car and drive away. What in the world? He ran outside and managed to snap a picture of the guy as he sped off but he didn’t get the license plate. Then he texted the picture to Fern and asked her to come get him.
His GPS told him that he was at Carlisle, about an hour away from Legatum, so while he waited for her to arrive he worked on the metadata, but he still couldn’t figure out what it meant. He even sent Clive a picture but he couldn’t figure it out either. He would have to ask Holmes, and that was something he was not looking forward to.
Lila hit Waltz’s icon and purred into the phone. “Darling, you’ll never guess what just happened. The Binkle boy has done the most extraordinary thing.”
As soon as he returned to Legatum Simon called a conference in the common room. Amanda and Ivy were impressed with how he’d tailed the woman and blamed him not a bit for losing her. Clive already knew the story and was as excited as all get-out, as was Fern, who of course had been in on the adventure. When Binnie arrived and heard the news she practically knocked over a lamp.
“Simon Binkle, I could kiss you,” she said, and did.
Simon beamed and said, “Want to try that again? I didn’t quite feel it. It went by so fast.”
Binnie kissed him again and Simon glanced at Clive to see if he was jealous. Not as far as he could see. It was obvious that Binnie was still crazy about him, but he was still deflecting her advances. He was always complaining that she was too tall, too nosy, too crazy, and just plain too much. But he still liked her brain and relied on her a lot. Simon thought he was nuts to reject a beautiful girl like that. If he weren’t so in love with Ivy he might go for her himself.
He stole a look at the object of his affection. She was just sitting there with her usual pleasant expression, petting Nigel. Oh well. What did he expect? For her to run to him, cast Binnie off, and take him in her arms? He grinned at the thought. He didn’t expect that but he sure would like it.
Holmes was conspicuous by his absence. The one person who could solve the riddle of the metadata was off somewhere secret not responding to texts. They would have to go after him later. Surely he would make himself available when he heard that they had the metadata, or a facsimile thereof.
Still basking in the afterglow of Binnie’s kisses Simon called the meeting to order.
“Yo!” He looked out at his friends. “We’ve got the metadata.” He waved his phone around in triumph. “You’ve all got your copies now, is that right?”
Everyone nodded.
“Now we have to figure out who that man was who ran off with it. And who was that woman?”
Amanda laughed. “Simon, I do not believe you. Don’t you know who that guy is?”
Simon gave her a chilly look. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve never seen him before.”
“Yes you have,” said Amanda. “He’s Blair Belize, the American actor who plays a detective in that show ‘We Call It Blood.’ What rock have you been hiding under?”
Simon looked her up and down. “American, you say? Hello, I’m English. How would I know about some dumb cop show?”
“Not a cop show,” said Amanda. “He’s a PI. And it isn’t dumb. It’s on cable. Don’t you get it? He plays a detective and he really is one. That is so cool.”
Simon laughed. “Big whoop. You’re so star struck, Amanda. This is real life.” That little remark elicited a glare. But it was true. Americans were so celebrity conscious. Hadn’t she got over that yet? “Anyway, we don’t know that he’s a detective. He might be working for Blixus. And by the way, what happened to the old woman?”
“Oh, Simon,” said Fern. “My dear, sweet, innocent Simon. You don’t know?”
“I don’t know what?” he said.
“Blair Belize is the old woman. That was the disguise.”
“Wait a minute,” said Simon. “You’re telling me that that old woman was a man?”
“It’s not as though you’ve never seen that before,” said Amanda.
“Blech,” said Simon, making a face.
“Blech yourself,” said Amanda. “He was in disguise because he’s famous. People would recognize him otherwise.”
“Not me,” said Simon.
“But a lot of other people.”
“So the metadata isn’t lost?” he said.
“It sure doesn’t seem like it,” said Ivy. “It seems that the man is just undercover.”
“Do you suppose Taffeta knows about him?” said Clive. “She’s the one to worry about. She’s got all those secrets.”
&n
bsp; “Oooh, good question,” said Binnie. “Do you think he knows she and Blixus are after him?”
“No one said anything about them being after him,” said Simon.
“Yes you did,” said Clive. “You just said—”
“There’s only one way out of this,” said Simon, ignoring Clive. “We need to tail him. For protection.”
Binnie laughed. “We’re going to protect him? The man is as fit as an Olympian. I think he can take care of himself.”
“Not that kind of protection,” said Simon. “We have to see if he’s taking proper precautions with the metadata. Someone who would leave it lying around like that is a huge risk.”
“Maybe he had his reasons,” said Ivy. “The teachers must trust him or he wouldn’t be in charge of the metadata.”
“You’re talking about the same teachers who have been kidnapped, arrested, duped, and killed?” said Simon.
“Good point,” said Ivy. “So what do you plan to do, have a talk with him?”
“No,” said Simon. “I just want to see what’s going on. Then I’ll figure out what to do.”
“I guess we need the intelligence,” said Ivy. “Good plan, Simon.”
He grinned. She liked his ideas. Maybe she really did love him. “It’s settled then. I just have to check the surveillance network for his vehicle and get going.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said Amanda.
Simon glared at her.
Amanda chin motioned toward Ivy. He wasn’t sure if she was implying that Ivy would be sad if anything happened to him or that she thought he was just trying to impress her. Either way he was annoyed. Who was Amanda to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do? And why should she always get all the glory?
“He’s just a movie star,” Simon said acidly. “If it looks like there’s any danger of being trampled by teenage girls I’ll get out of the way, okay?”
Amanda shook her head. He couldn’t imagine why. What was the big deal? She did stuff like this all the time.
Amanda Lester and the Gold Spectacles Surprise Page 11