Ben was a picture of misery.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have said I was ill or something this morning. But then she’d probably have changed it to a doctor’s appointment, and I’d still have to go out.’
‘Mum’s a bit pushy,’ confided Jake.
‘Are you good at music?’ asked Millie, who played the violin only slightly better than Max could sing.
‘Terrible,’ Ben sighed. ‘I’m really, really bad. Aren’t I?’ He looked to Jake for confirmation.
‘Dreadful,’ said Jake. ‘His Mozart sounds like someone being beaten slowly to death.’
Ben nodded. ‘It does. And that’s my best piece. I’m so sorry. Can you come tomorrow? Can you be here at ten? We’ll have all day then.’
‘Sure,’ said Millie. ‘We’ll spend this afternoon trying to work out where Shepard’s taken Celeste. We’d better clear off now before your mum gets back, so we don’t have to answer any questions.’
‘God, yes,’ said Jake. ‘We’d never hear the end of it if she found out that we’d had a girl round.’ He went suddenly red.
‘Can I take these?’ asked Millie, to cover up the rather awkward silence that had just fallen over them. She picked up the pile of papers that Ben had been systematically printing out all morning.
‘Of course,’ said Jake. ‘Have a look at it all again tonight. You’ll get much more out of it than I will, and Wolfgang here will be practising all evening. Actually, I might go out,’ he added thoughtfully.
‘Don’t blame you,’ said Ben dolefully. ‘I really am bad.’
Millie gathered up the papers and stuffed them in her bag. She and Max ran downstairs, Jake and Ben in tow.
‘You’ll come back tomorrow?’ Ben said, sounding increasingly panicky, presumably, Millie thought, because he had spent the last few days helping her and Max, rather than doing any piano practice.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Tomorrow, here, ten o’clock. See you then.’
She and Max waved goodbye, and they set off on the ride home.
‘Are you OK?’ Millie asked Max, as she pushed her bike up to the side of her house.
‘Yes,’ he said, jumping out of the basket and weaving between her feet as she opened the front door. ‘Can we do some reading now?’
‘Of course,’ said Millie, trying not to sound too amazed. She hadn’t got the impression that Max was a big fan of the research side of things, since he wasn’t a great reader.
‘We must make a plan to get Celeste back,’ he said firmly. ‘The sooner, the better. That’s what you say, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Millie. ‘It is. And you’re right. We do need to get her back, and I’m sure we can work out where she is. We just need to do some thinking.’
Max nodded, hoping he looked more confident that he felt.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Millie and Max spent the afternoon going over and over the documents Ben had produced. They ruled out hiding places for Celeste, one after another. She couldn’t be at the second lab, the one that Arthur Shepard had planned to send all the cats to, because they had seen the van driver leave without her. Besides, it hadn’t seemed like Shepard was all that keen to do business with them after their driver had inadvertently released all but one of his cats into the wild. Millie was almost equally sure that he wouldn’t have taken Celeste home. Everything she knew about Arthur Shepard made her think he would keep secrets from his family, and wouldn’t trust his children an inch. She didn’t have an address for him anyway, as he had proved resistant to Ben’s investigations so far, so she hoped she was right. His security guards, according to Ben’s research, lived with wives and children, too. Millie offered to bike past their houses, to see if she could find anything out, but Max wouldn’t hear of it. He agreed that Celeste was unlikely to have been placed in a family home, without tight security. After all, they had only managed to break the cats out last night because of careful planning and a lot of help, not because Shepard had been lax in arranging security guards and cameras.
Millie chewed her lower lip in frustration. They were both pretty sure that Arthur Shepard wouldn’t trust one of the thugs Max had watched searching Millie’s home to look after an expensive research prototype. Even though Max hated thinking of Celeste that way, he realised they had to think, at least a little, like Arthur Shepard if they were to work out where she might be.
‘I don’t know,’ said Millie regretfully, as she put the last page on the pile in front of them. ‘Could she be with the head of Playmatic? His home address’ – she shuffled through and consulted a sheet – ‘is two hundred miles away. I can’t see it, can you? I think he wants to keep her nearby.’
‘Yes,’ Max agreed. ‘Also, he probably hasn’t told them yet what has happened.’
‘No.’ Millie thought for a moment. ‘No, I bet he hasn’t. He’ll be hoping to use Celeste in place of you all and get himself out of trouble that way. I mean, she can talk, can’t she? She does what they want. He’ll probably just . . .’ She trailed off.
‘Just what?’ asked the cat.
‘Just be planning to steal some more cats and set up a breeding and surgery lab somewhere else,’ said Millie, looking rather queasy.
‘We have to find her,’ said Max.
They looked at each other. Millie turned over the pile of papers and began reading again from the beginning.
At two minutes past ten the next morning, Millie knocked on Jake and Ben’s door. She didn’t feel a great deal less tired than she had yesterday – she had slept badly again, racking her brains for any clue she might have missed that would lead them to Celeste.
Jake bounded to the door, seemingly recovered from the worst of his injuries already. ‘Come on up,’ he said happily. ‘Ben’s been awake since dawn. He could do with someone else to talk to.’
‘How was the piano lesson?’ asked Max, as they traipsed into Ben’s room.
‘Awful,’ he said cheerfully. ‘And over for another week. I reckon my teacher’ll just take Mum to one side soon and explain to her that I’m pretty much tone deaf, and then I’ll be free.’
Max nodded.
‘It’s a good strategy,’ added Jake. ‘I thought Dad might cry for a minute last night when you mangled that piece for what, the fortieth time?’
‘Forty-third,’ said Ben. ‘Yes, he did go a bit . . .’
‘Fragile,’ finished Jake. ‘Can’t say I blame him. He likes music,’ he explained to Millie and Max. ‘Ben’s killing him.’
‘Now,’ said Ben, ‘it’s time to get back to work, isn’t it? Have you had any more ideas about Celeste?’
Millie shook her head and explained where they had got to the previous evening, which was, she felt, precisely nowhere.
‘It’s a start,’ encouraged Jake. ‘You’ve ruled some things out, at least.’
‘We’ve ruled everything out,’ she sighed. ‘And we’re all out of ideas.’
‘Well, we’ll think of something,’ said Ben. ‘In the meantime, we should go back to the original plan – to damage Arthur Shepard’s credibility. And Playmatic’s, too.’
‘But how?’ Jake was bemused. ‘We haven’t got any proof he’s involved – Millie and Max couldn’t get into Shepard’s office when they did the rescue. I suppose we could introduce Max to the press,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘Max is not going to become part of a media circus,’ Millie said, giving them a very stern look.
‘Or even a media pet shop,’ added Max, his mouth twitching a little.
‘Fair enough,’ said Jake. ‘It was just an idea. How are we going to tell people about all this, then?’
‘I don’t know,’ Millie muttered. ‘If only we’d been able to steal some paperwork or something.’
‘What kind of thing did you have in mind?’ asked Ben.
‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘We didn’t really know even when we were planning to get into Shepard’s office. I guess we were hoping for letters or emails between him and
his employers, or scientists, or something about the testing. Photographs of the cats squashed in those tiny cages would have been really good, but there was no time to take any when we got into the lab. My camera was in my bag, and I was going to, but then Ariston told us that Shepard was moving them that night and we just panicked.’
‘With good reason,’ Max pointed out. ‘We only missed him by seconds. I think it was a dignified and well-timed retreat, rather than a panic.’
Millie smiled. ‘We were just too late,’ she said. ‘If he hadn’t been in his office, I suppose we could’ve found some documents that connected him to the kitnapping.’
‘The what?’ asked Jake.
‘Cat-kidnapping.’
‘Oh.’
‘Well, you come up with a better word.’
‘No, that’s fine. Carry on.’
‘Well, that’s it, really. That’s the kind of thing we need,’ she said, shrugging.
‘Easy,’ said Ben.
‘How is it easy? Can you hack into his email and stuff?’ asked Jake.
‘Hmm – maybe. I think something else might be better . . .’ Ben cracked his knuckles.
‘I wish you wouldn’t do that,’ winced Jake.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ben had been muttering with Millie for several minutes, typing quickly as they spoke. One or other of them would look puzzled for a moment, then nod and suggest something.
‘It’s weird, seeing him with someone who understands him,’ whispered Jake to Max. ‘It’s like seeing monkeys talking to each other in a wildlife documentary.’
Max agreed. ‘Do you think they will explain what they are doing sometime?’ he asked.
‘Sorry, yes,’ said Ben, overhearing. ‘Now, the things we know about Arthur Shepard are this. One, he gets paid lots of money by Playmatic, so he doesn’t want to upset them. Two, he’s not crazy about computers.’
‘How do we know that?’ asked Max.
‘He doesn’t do his banking online. There was no provision set up when I hacked in yesterday. He doesn’t live anywhere near a branch of his bank – I found his address this morning, by the way, from the bank’s records.’ All the while he was talking, Ben was flicking through pages he’d brought onto the screen – the bank home page; Arthur Shepard’s bank account; a map of where Shepard lived; a list of banks in the area. ‘So it’s inconvenient for him not to use internet banking. We think he doesn’t use it because he’s worried about security.’
‘With all his bank account details, not to mention an aerial map of his home, on the desktop of a nine-year-old boy, he may have a point,’ said Jake. ‘I hope you don’t do this to people who aren’t international animal smugglers, thieves and crooks.’
‘No, no, no,’ cooed Ben. ‘Of course not. I’m not sure Mum and Dad can afford to take us on holiday at Christmas, by the way.’
‘Ben,’ said Jake, warning him.
‘Just kidding,’ said Ben innocently.
‘He’s not kidding,’ said Max.
‘I know,’ muttered Jake. ‘He’ll either be running the country by the time he’s sixteen or in prison for life at the hands of the CIA. It could really go either way at the moment.’
Max nodded. Millie grinned.
‘So,’ she said, ‘if Shepard’s nervous about computers, it’s probably because he doesn’t know all that much about them.’
‘Makes sense,’ said Jake.
‘Which will, in turn, make it much easier to steal the documents we need,’ said Ben.
‘Steal?’ said Jake, his voice reaching a higher pitch than he had expected. ‘I mean, steal?’ he tried again, in a lower tone.
‘Well, not steal exactly,’ said Millie. ‘And we wouldn’t do it if we could stop him any other way.’
‘We aren’t going to take them off him by force,’ said Ben cheerily. ‘He’s going to hand them over, any minute. Just wait and see.’
‘I think I’m confused,’ said Max. ‘Why would he do such a thing?’
‘Because we asked him to,’ said Ben.
‘Yes, I am confused,’ said Max. ‘Tell me again, but with different words, and more information.’
‘Playmatic has a website,’ said Millie, ‘which is Playmatic dot com. We’ve checked the contact details of their staff, and their email addresses are all first name dot second name at Playmatic dot com.’
Max looked confused. A trilingual cat doesn’t necessarily have a good grasp of electronic mail systems.
‘So, if I worked there, I’d be Millie dot Raven at Playmatic dot com,’ said Millie.
‘Ah,’ said the cat. ‘It is clear.’
‘All the emails to that address go through a server – this one.’ Ben pulled up another page. ‘They rent their web space and stuff from here.’
‘Very well,’ said Max. ‘This is like the postal delivery man, yes?’
‘Exactly,’ said Millie.
‘My head hurts,’ added Jake.
‘It’s really not complicated,’ said Ben. ‘I’ve just hacked into the server and told them to send any mail to Nicky Browne – with an e – at the Playmatic address to me.’
‘Who’s Nicky Browne?’ Max asked.
‘We made her up,’ said Millie. ‘But Nicky Brown, without the e, is the secretary of the man who sends Arthur Shepard all that money every month.’
‘What are the chances that Arthur Shepard has ever noticed what her name is?’ asked Ben.
‘Virtually none. Ask me another easy one,’ said Jake promptly.
‘That’s right,’ Ben replied. ‘So, we just sent Arthur Shepard a mail from her, asking for copies of all earlier correspondence between Playmatic and him, as there’s a problem with their mainframe today.’
‘Their what?’ asked Max, sounding a little faint.
‘The thing that holds all the computers in their office together,’ said Ben. ‘I was hoping to hack the emails off there, but they don’t store them on the server once they’ve been downloaded to a hard drive. More security fears, I suppose.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘It’s stupid, though, because you have no back-ups if the hard drive is damaged.’
‘They probably don’t want back-ups of this stuff,’ Millie reasoned. ‘It is illegal, after all.’
‘So you think he’ll send you everything, just because you asked?’ said Jake, trying to get to grips with what was actually happening, rather than what should happen in Ben’s ideal world. He was now sounding a little faint himself.
‘Yup,’ said Ben. ‘We don’t reckon he’s told them about the break-out yet. He’s not had much time to, after all, and he’s still got Celeste, which is probably enough. I think he’ll do whatever they ask to try and keep them happy, so they don’t ask him anything difficult.’
‘Like, “Where are all those cats we paid you to steal and torture?”’ asked Jake.
‘Something like that,’ Millie agreed.
‘You don’t think he’ll be a bit suspicious?’ said Jake.
‘Yes, possibly,’ acknowledged Ben. ‘We should be emailing his secretary, really, only we don’t know her full name. But the request is coming from a web address he recognises. It’s a name I’m sure he’ll have seen before. The only thing that’s different is the spelling, and we’re hoping he won’t notice that. If he does, we’ll need another plan. But I’ve already tried hacking into his computer and it’s a no-go. I think he keeps it off-line, and dials up. We can try to get stuff that way, but it’ll take ages. That’s why we’re hoping this will work.’
‘So, do we just sit here and wait?’ Max asked.
‘Yes,’ said Millie.
They didn’t have to wait very long, however. A quarter of an hour later, a mail came through to Nicky Browne.
‘Here we go,’ said Ben, clicking on the email. He read:
Nicky – please find our complete correspondence
enclosed.
Best wishes,
AS
‘Open the attachment,’ said Jake. Max stared at him, looking sur
prised and not a little betrayed. ‘Well, I know some computer things.’ Jake flushed.
Ben clicked again on the inviting paperclip icon, and pages and pages of emails came up. Ben began to print them out, so they could all read them through quickly. After another forty minutes had passed, they had two piles of mail – one which proved nothing, and was therefore useless, and another which was very useful indeed.
‘So, they all knew,’ said Millie, who had been making lists on a notepad as she read. ‘Anthony Marsden, the new director of Playmatic and his board, which is’ – she consulted her list – ‘seven people, plus Arthur Shepard, and the lab workers. They were all in it together. The idea came from Marsden originally – he consulted Shepard, and then persuaded the board to fund the research. We have copies of all those mails, plus reports on how many cats were used, how many died.’ She pressed her lips together and carried on. ‘How much they were paying and on which date the initial research stage came to an end.’
They all nodded.
‘So, when we publish these, we’re going to take Marsden and his board down as well,’ said Millie.
They all nodded again.
‘Good,’ she said briskly. ‘Now, what else do we need?’
Chapter Thirty-Five
On the other side of Haverham, at the lab, Arthur Shepard was pacing urgently up and down. He had kept Playmatic in the dark so far about the break-in and theft of his cats, responding to their usual day-to-day queries with prompt answers so they couldn’t suspect anything was amiss. But what was he going to do? Tell them what had happened? If he did, there would be all hell to pay about the security breach, and he didn’t like the sound of that at all. But if he didn’t tell them, then surely they would soon find out anyway. The cats had been stolen, all but one of the damned things – the thieves would sell them to a journalist, no doubt.
He did have one small ray of hope – could it be that the animal rights lunatics had been the ones who’d broken in? That the intruders had not stolen the cats for financial benefit, but simply to set them free? His brain could barely countenance this suggestion, as it was inconceivable to Arthur Shepard that people would do anything for any reason other than money. Also, would the cats talk of their own accord? How stupid were they? Would they know where they had been kept? In other words, could they lead anyone back to him, or was it just the thieves that knew of his involvement? He took a deep breath and sat down at his large, walnut desk. He had a plan. He would say nothing incriminating to Playmatic, but would stall them for a few more days. He would get hold of his chief scientist, Dr Hunt, who was currently, infuriatingly, out of the country at some conference. He still had the one cat, stashed away safely at Elaine’s. Thank God she didn’t have any prying children to spoil things. Dr Hunt and he would soon have a new facility set up, and they would invite Playmatic to view their handiwork in a week or two, by which time they would have a few more cats in full working order.
The Great Escape Page 14
