With Waltz on the rampage—because that’s what it was now, him killing people and threatening to cut off fingers and taking over Blixus’s organization—what could she do? Professor Scribbish had certainly been right about him. Was it possible the detectives had got wind of his latest activities and mobilized against him? They knew she was missing, and probably Thrillkill as well by now, and Holmes knew that the man had robbed them of the pages. They must have put two and two together. But where would they look?
Of course. Holmes knew Waltz had taken the pages that mentioned the spiders. He would figure he had decoded them and gone looking for them. They would look at Ambleside first, and there they would find Kate, David, and Editta. From there they would follow Waltz’s trail . . . or would they? Had he mentioned where he was taking her and the Moriartys?
She couldn’t remember Waltz having said a thing. In fact she hadn’t known where they were going until they’d been restrained in the van, so there was little to no chance David, Editta, or Kate knew. But Thrillkill had gone to the bank. Someone must have known that. They might pick up the trail there.
It was all a gigantic longshot. How would anyone know that Waltz would drive them to the Osric Movie Studio? There was no logic in that at all.
She realized she was dying of thirst and looked around. She couldn’t see any water fountains but there had to be some. She wandered around but she couldn’t find any place to get a drink. Perhaps inside that building over there.
She opened the door to a very large sound stage and peered inside. All she could see was a bunch of rough wooden walls and partitions with pieces of sets, ladders, trolleys, and other gear scattered around. But she could hear something off in the distance, so as quietly as she could she inched toward the noise. Where there were people there had to be water.
It took her a long time to reach whatever it was. Your typical sound stage had so many twists and turns that you could get lost in it, and this one was no different. Amanda felt as if she were navigating a level 100 maze in a game it was so crazy. But at last she could see where the sound was coming from, and the sight that met her eyes was a doozy.
The studio was making a superhero movie and she was right on the edge of the set, which was made to look like a schoolroom. A boy of about sixteen was delivering his lines while the director and crew watched. Fine, Spider-Man, whatever. But what really boggled Amanda’s mind was the sight of one of the red spiders making its way toward the boy. Should she warn him? If the spider bit him, another scene would be interrupted and another person would embarrass himself. But if she warned him she’d just get yelled at and thrown out again and the spider would probably bite someone else anyway.
She no longer had a choice though. The spider was crawling up the boy’s arm and was just about to—there it went. The boy squeaked and flubbed his line. Then he caught sight of Amanda.
“Hey,” he yelled. “Look at her! Isn’t she awful?”
As the crew came after her, Amanda didn’t have the luxury of worrying about how she looked. She ran through the maze as fast as her feet would carry her and out the door of the sound stage. As soon as she got out into the road a man grabbed her and said, “Get into costume now! We’re about to shoot.”
He pulled Amanda across the narrow street to another building and forced her inside. “But—” she said, but he clamped a hand over her mouth and she couldn’t get the rest out. He marched her to a dressing area and said, “Do you want the job or not?” When she tried to protest he unhooked a furry costume from the rack and started to put it on her, over her clothes. She screamed and yelled and stomped her feet but he made her get into the costume, and when she emerged from the dressing room she looked a little like an ewok from “Star Wars.”
You never would have recognized Amanda in that costume. She looked like a plush toy. The good news was that if she ran into Waltz he wouldn’t recognize her. The bad news was that if the detectives came looking for her they wouldn’t either. But Amanda knew that if she messed up the scene the director was about to shoot she’d cost the production a lot of money (again), so she decided to go along with the crew member and do the scene. She just hoped they would finish quickly.
The director positioned her along with two other furry something-or-others in a forest (she really hoped he wasn’t copying George Lucas). Then he told the star, a twenty-fiveish hunk wearing a puffy shirt, to move stage left and grab the sword that was lying on the ground. As she surveyed the set, Amanda realized that this scene blocking would look awkward. Unless he was left-handed, the actor’s arm would cover his body and obscure the action. The director should have placed the sword to the right and told the actor to move stage right.
“Stage right,” she muttered.
“Quiet!” said the director, and turned back to the actor.
Sure enough, when he was shooting the scene the director called “Cut” and moved the sword and the actor to stage right. Then he told the actor to back up, which Amanda knew would never work. It would look terrible, and you weren’t supposed to back up onstage anyway. It would look much better if the guy would glance behind him, then turn and run with his back to the camera. She muttered, “Turn around.”
“What’s that?” said the director. “You, fuzzies, be quiet or I’ll throw you off the set.”
Sure enough Amanda was right about that one too. After attempting the scene his way several times, the director ended up doing exactly what Amanda thought he should have done in the first place.
After a few more of these gaffes she couldn’t take it anymore. She walked up to the director and said, “If you would just—” But before she could finish her sentence she saw Waltz watching from the sidelines. What was he doing there? Had he followed her? If so he might realize it was her inside that costume. She eyed him and retook her spot, praying that he hadn’t heard her voice. But at that point the director had had enough of her and told her she was fired. If she wasn’t off his set in three seconds she’d never work in British film again.
She ran off the set like a roadrunner but Waltz grabbed her and started to pull her away. The crew member who had corralled her yelled, “Hey, you can’t leave the set with your costume on,” but Waltz pulled her so hard and fast that she had no chance to take the thing off.
“That move with the director was really stupid, Amanda,” said Waltz breathlessly. “What extra would tell a director how to make his own movie?”
Idiot! She hadn’t thought of that. Even though she’d tried to tone it down since she’d arrived in England, people still thought of her as bossy. What had she been thinking trying to tell the director what to do? She vowed that if she ever got out of this one she’d finally learn to stifle herself.
But her bossiness might not have been such a bad thing after all. Waltz hadn’t been the only one to notice her behavior. Out on the sidelines, way back among the trees, Nick Muffet and Scapulus Holmes had seen her little performance, and now they were after her and Waltz.
24
NICK AND HOLMES’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE
While he was recording Blixus’s ordeal at the bed and breakfast, David had an epiphany. These people were exactly what his dad had been fighting against, so what in the world was he doing hanging out with them?
Realizing that he was in the middle of a deadly game, he had managed to signal Celerie and she had alerted the school. In Thrillkill’s absence Professors Also and Feeney had mobilized a team, which had gone to Ambleside and found David, Editta, and Kate in the closet.
When the kids had been returned to Legatum, Nick overheard David tell Holmes everything, but all that registered was that Waltz had made off with Amanda and the two Moriartys. This was terrible news! When Amanda disappeared he’d been sick with worry but he’d figured Blixus had somehow got her. Not that that was good—far from it. But at least the man was a known quantity.
Waltz was different. Nick didn’t know much about the guy, but the idea that he had taken Amanda chilled him to the bone. That
the man who had prosecuted his parents had stolen Bible pages meant he knew way more than he should, planned to use that information in a way that was not in the detectives’ interests, and would stop at nothing to achieve his ends. That was bad enough. But that he’d been able to subdue Blixus, that was unthinkable. Amanda didn’t have a chance against a man like that. He had to find her fast. She was clever, but how she’d survive in the company of those three he couldn’t imagine.
Holmes was equally alarmed. “Where did they go?” he said grabbing David by the arms.
“Get off me, Sherlock,” David said, pulling away. “Just because I’m back doesn’t mean I like you. Anyway, I don’t know. I think it was somewhere far. Amanda’s an idiot anyway. What do you want with her?”
Holmes pulled harder and moved his face within an inch of David’s. “What do you mean ‘far’? And if you ever, ever, say one word against Amanda again I will beat you to within an inch of your life.”
Nick was astonished. He’d never heard Holmes talk like that, and he’d certainly never known him to lay a hand on anyone. He wondered if the boy would actually follow through.
“I don’t know,” said David, bristling. “Not close?”
“What kind of far? Very far? Somewhat far?”
“How should I know? Something that would change everything,” he said. “And get your hands off me.”
Holmes threw David’s arms down. “What would change everything? Waltz needs the Bible. But that wouldn’t be far. If it’s anywhere it would be near here, so that isn’t it. It can’t be the metadata. It wouldn’t do him any good, and besides, he doesn’t know where it is. Neither does Amanda, and Blixus certainly doesn’t.”
“Well whatever it is, it’s obviously a secret,” said David.
“Yes!” Holmes cried. “They’re after the secrets!”
But Nick was already gone. He’d figured out where Waltz was headed the second David had said “far.”
He raced out the front door and caught sight of a lorry heading for the exit. He grabbed onto the back and hoisted himself up, only to feel a bump next to him. Holmes was riding the lorry too!
Holmes glared. “Get off.”
“On your birthday,” said Nick.
“It’s my birthday. Get off.”
“Really? Then here’s a gift.”
Nick shoved him. Holmes looked shocked, as if no one had dared manhandle him before. Then he said, “She’s mine. You need to forget about her. Get off.”
Nick sighed but held on and said nothing. The truck edged forward.
“You’re thick, aren’t you?” said Holmes breathlessly. “She loves me.”
“She’s not going to love anyone if I don’t save her,” said Nick.
The truck inched forward again. The driver was talking to the guard.
“You’re nothing but flash,” said Holmes.
The truck rolled through the gate and down the drive. As it stopped at the bottom of the hill, both boys jumped off.
Nick looked around and saw a white Vauxhall parked near a hedge. Perfect! He reconnoitered, picked up a rock, and bashed in the window as Holmes looked on, aghast.
“Hey,” said Holmes. “That car belongs to someone.”
Nick turned to him. “Take the tracker off,” he said, staring Holmes down.
“No,” said Holmes.
“I know you have the key. Take it off now.”
Holmes folded his arms and fumed. “I don’t have it. You’ll have to talk to Thrillkill.”
Nick opened the door. He pulled off his shirt, swept the glass off the seat, shook it out, and put it back on. Then he slid into the car and fumbled around under the dash. Within seconds the motor was running. Holmes opened the passenger door and jumped in.
“Get out,” said Nick.
“Drive,” said Holmes.
“Take the tracker off,” said Nick, “or we’re going nowhere.”
Holmes gave Nick a dirty look, reached in his pocket, and pulled out a key. He leaned over and unlocked the tracker. Nick yanked the device off and threw it out the broken window. Then he peeled out.
“If anything happens to her it will be your fault,” said Holmes.
“If anything doesn’t happen to her it will be because of me,” said Nick, heading toward town.
“You know how to drive?” said Holmes.
“Do it all the time,” said Nick. He’d been driving since he was nine. At eleven Blixus had even let him drive getaway cars. Not that there had been many of those. The criminal had preferred to let his associates handle the detail work.
“You could have fooled me,” said Holmes. “Your driving is terrible.”
“My driving is the only hope we have of saving Amanda.”
As they made their way through town, a painfully slow process, Holmes kept making nasty remarks. Finally, after Holmes had declared that he would never get into Legatum for about the tenth time, Nick had had enough and said, “Would you shut up? I’m trying to figure out where to go.”
“Take a left, then a right,” said Holmes.
“No, that isn’t it,” said Nick. He made a right and said, “Yeah, this is the way.”
Holmes sulked. “You’re wasting time.”
“You ever driven a car?” said Nick, glancing over at him. Holmes had an ugly look on his face.
“Nope.”
“Figures.” Nick checked the gas gauge. They were getting low but there wasn’t time to stop.
“What is wrong with you, Moriarty?” Holmes eyed the gauge too. “We need petrol.”
Nick checked the rearview mirror. There was no one behind him. “Plenty, but I’m trying to fix it, and there isn’t time.”
“Forget it. Whatever you do isn’t going to make any difference. And we need to stop.”
“Of course it will. Don’t you believe in self-improvement?”
“You couldn’t possibly improve yourself enough to make her love you.”
“I’m not doing it because of Amanda, you twit. I’m doing it because I need to.”
Holmes turned and faced him. “You need to be in jail.”
Nick kept his eyes on the road. “Perhaps I will be.”
Holmes turned back to the front and folded his arms. “If there’s any justice.”
“Lighten up, Holmes,” Nick said, checking the mirror again. Good, no cops. “The world exists in shades of gray.”
“Rationalization,” said Holmes. “Everything is an excuse with you Moriartys.”
“I’m not a Moriarty.”
“As good as one,” said Holmes.
By now Nick had got onto the M6. Traffic was light. “You know, it would do a lot more good if you would figure out where this safe deposit box is and stop talking.”
“You’re not supposed to know about that,” said Holmes.
“Just look it up,” said Nick.
Holmes took out his phone and punched. “Got it.”
“Fine. Now you can navigate. Although based on what you’ve done so far, I’m not getting a warm, fuzzy feeling.”
Holmes clamped his lips together and looked straight ahead. Neither boy said anything for twenty minutes. Then Holmes said, “Get off at the next exit and take a left.”
Nick obliged and they drove up to Professor Sidebotham’s bank. Nick laid rubber turning into the car park, and the two boys ran out of the car.
They rushed up to the safe deposit counter and Holmes said, “Have you seen a tall, dark man with a young girl. She has bushy brown hair.”
The English rose behind the counter sized him up and said, “I saw a man like that but he was alone. Friend of yours?”
“When was this?” said Nick.
“About an hour ago,” said the teller.
The boys raced out of the bank and back to the car. There was no way to know if the man the teller had seen was Waltz, although if it had been him they were an hour behind him. If not, maybe longer.
“Now what?” said Holmes.
“Idiot,” said Ni
ck. Holmes was supposed to be so smart. He wasn’t impressed. “Call Ivy.”
Holmes looked embarrassed and pulled out his phone. He pressed it and waited a few seconds.
“Ivy,” he said. “I need something fast. For Amanda. Waltz has her. I need to find her.”
“Where are you?” Nick could hear Ivy say.
“Blackpool. Waltz tried to get the secrets at the bank. Then he took off. I need to know where.”
Nick thought he was making assumptions, but it didn’t matter. One way or another Waltz would have taken them somewhere. They had to figure out where.
“Phone you back,” said Ivy.
Nick ran his fingers over the steering wheel. “He’s got Blixus, Hugh, and Amanda. Where would he take them?”
Holmes thought for a moment. “David said he made the spiders bite Blixus and Amanda and they spilled their guts. Waltz thinks he’s taken over the Moriarty cartel.”
“The cartel, hm. Maybe he’s taking them to my uncle’s in London. I mean Stencil’s. He isn’t really my uncle. He’s Blixus’s older brother.”
“Why?”
“Control. If he’s got Blixus, he might think Stencil will follow. He’s wrong.”
“Tough guy, is he?”
“Something like that,” said Nick.
“You macho Moriartys,” said Holmes. “You’re so pathetic.”
Nick turned in his seat and faced Holmes. He was getting tired of the guy’s attitude. “Look, do you want Amanda to die?” “I’m trying to figure this out here.”
Holmes’s phone sounded. The ring tone was nothing special.
“Ivy,” he said. “What do you know?”
“Waltz said something about Osric. Does that mean anything?”
“Osric?”
“Thank you, Ivy!” Nick yelled, and started the engine.
“What’s Nick doing there?” he could hear her say.
“Nothing,” said Holmes. “Tell you later.”
Nick was silent as he headed back to the M6.
“Well?” said Holmes.
“Well what?” said Nick, watching the signs. They weren’t particularly clear and he was trying to figure out whether to turn or go straight ahead.
Amanda Lester and the Red Spider Rumpus Page 24
