Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Thursday
Chapter One: The Dreaded Question
Chapter Two: Elliot, You’re Cute!
Chapter Three: Uncle Robert
Friday
Chapter Four: The Long Run
Chapter Five: Password Protected
Chapter Six: Halle
Saturday
Chapter Seven: Wipe-out
Chapter Eight: The Protest March
Chapter Nine: The Present
Chapter Ten: I’m a Friend
Chapter Eleven: Dangerous
Chapter Twelve: Nine-Fifteen
Sunday
Chapter Thirteen: Progress
Monday
Chapter Fourteen: Julian
Chapter Fifteen: True Colours
Chapter Sixteen: Watching and Waiting
Chapter Seventeen: The Mole Unmasked
Tuesday
Chapter Eighteen: Eureka!
Chapter Nineteen: The Real Deal
Wednesday
Chapter Twenty: The Letter
Now
Chapter Twenty-One: The Encounter
About the Author
Also by Malorie Blackman
Praise for Malorie Blackman
Copyright
About the Book
It’s just your average Friday night. Then the police show up.
Your mum’s been caught on CCTV, breaking into a giant chemical company. They say she’s working undercover for A.N.T.I.D.O.T.E, a group against animal testing – but how is that possible? She’s not a spy – is she?
Now she’s on the run – and only you can uncover the truth. And you’ve got to crack a code to do it.
For Neil and Lizzy, with love
Prologue
I’m in deep, deep trouble. And like the biggest fool in the universe, I’m about to wade out even deeper still. But I don’t have any choice.
Because they’ve got my mum.
I’ve been warned that I’ll never see her again if I try anything – anything at all. I know they’re watching me so I’m having to think fast. All I’ve managed to come up with so far is this. It’s not perfect, it’s not ideal – it’s not even clever, really – but it’s all I can think of.
I’m going to record the whole story on Mum’s computer – then back it up onto a CD-ROM and give it to Nosh with a message saying, ‘If anything should happen to me …’
When people do that in films, I always think ‘Yeah, right!’ It’s such a cliché!
If anything should happen to me …
In the films they always know that something is going to happen to them. Why else would they leave those kinds of instructions? But in my case, I really don’t know what’s going to happen. I wish I did. Even if it’s going to be something … bad, I wish I knew.
Not knowing is the worst thing in the world. With everything that’s happened, I daren’t even hope. I can appreciate now how Marie Antoinette felt in her prison cell, waiting to have her head lopped off.
I don’t have much time. It’s very hard to try and sort out my thoughts, but I must. It’s difficult when all I keep thinking is that if certain people have their way, in a few hours’ time, Mum and I will ‘disappear’ – never to be seen again. So I’d better get this right. I’ll make sure that if Mum and I do ‘disappear’, then those responsible don’t get away with it. I’ll tell everything as best I can – just as it happened.
Everything.
It’s Wednesday now. Late afternoon. Ten past five. Seventeen-ten hours exactly. I’ve got four hours before they come for me. So here goes.
This all started six days ago.
Six days ago, on Thursday.
Thursday
Chapter One
The Dreaded Question
I CHEWED ON my pencil, deep in thought. Mr Oakley was only three away from asking me the dreaded question. What was I going to say?
‘Your turn, Ann. What does your mum do for a living?’ asked Mr Oakley.
I switched my pencil from one side of my mouth to the other and carried on chewing. I gazed out of the classroom window in a bit of a wistful haze – I admit it!
… My mum’s a squadron leader in the SAS. She rescued the Prime Minister when he was kidnapped a few months ago and no one ever heard about it ’cause Mum was on a top-secret mission.
‘My mum can’t find a job, sir. She’s on the dole,’Ann replied to the teacher’s question.
One down, two more to go. And then …
‘And you, Shula? What about your mum? What does she do?’ asked Mr Oakley.
I drifted back into my daydream again, answering the teacher’s question in my head.
My mum’s about to be signed up by Arsenal football club. She’s going to be their first ever woman centre forward …
‘Mum works at the BBC. She produces radio programmes for the radio,’ Shula preened.
‘Well, she wouldn’t produce radio programmes for the TV, would she?’ Harrison muttered from beside me. ‘Rotten poser!’
Harrison (or Nosh as everyone calls him) wasn’t the only one muttering under his breath. Everyone in the class had heard about Shula’s mum and her job and the mega amounts of money she got paid and the stars she’d had lunch with – until we were all sick up to the eyebrows of hearing it!
‘She gets really well paid and she …’
‘Yes, Shula. I think we get the idea,’ said Mr Oakley, moving on quickly. ‘Your turn, Nosh. What does your mum do?’
I smiled – miles away – as I considered another possibility.
My mum’s going to be the first person on Mars. Her spaceship leaves from Brighton tomorrow morning at dawn …
Yeah …That’s what my mum should do. If only …
‘Sir, my mum says she’s a domestic technical engineer,’ Nosh said proudly.
My ears pricked up. That sounded interesting. I didn’t know Nosh’s mum did anything like that.
‘Oh, yes? What’s a domestic technical engineer?’ Mr Oakley asked.
‘It’s what’s otherwise known as a housewife!’ Nosh grinned.
The rest of the class tittered. I elbowed Nosh in the ribs for being such a twerp!
‘But Mum says she prefers the fancy title!’ Nosh added.
‘Hhmm!’ Mr Oakley smiled but said nothing else. He turned to me. I swallowed hard. My turn now. What should I say? How could I put it so that it’d be exciting, interesting, world-shattering …
‘Elliot?’ Mr Oakley prompted.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Your mum?’ asked the teacher. ‘What does she do for a living?’
‘My mum …’ I sighed inwardly. My voice lowered with dejection. ‘Mum’s a secretary.’
‘Good!’ Already Mr Oakley was moving on to the next person.
I slumped in my chair, my head resting on my cupped hand.
A secretary!
That was about as interesting as stale bread. I scowled, imagining Mum’s face before me. As soon as I got home I was going to have to speak to Mum about changing her job! She should be doing something more adventurous, something more … exciting!
Now that he’d asked the entire class, Mr Oakley started dribbling on about the various roles women played in the current economy compared to centuries past. It was a close-run thing, but even the lesson was probably more interesting than Mum’s job! I decided that when I got home, Mum and I were definitely going to have a serious talk!
Chapter Two
Elliot, You’re Cute!
‘YOU’RE NOT WATCHING that, are you?’ Mum flopped down onto the sofa and reached for the remote
control. Without waiting for my reply she switched TV channels.
‘Mum! Yes, I was watching that film actually,’ I spluttered.
‘But the news is on.’ Mum settled back against the cushions, kicked off her shoes and studied the TV screen intently.
‘Mum!’ I said, annoyed.
‘Yes, dear?’
I sighed with impatience. Every evening when Mum came home it was always the same thing. We’d have dinner, she’d work for an hour on her PC, then she’d plonk herself down on the sofa, kick off her shoes and flick over until she came to a channel – somewhere – that was showing the news.
‘Mum – the film?’ I tried again, knowing I was fighting a losing battle.
‘Just a minute, Elliot. I want to see what’s happening in the world,’ said Mum.
‘But it’s so depressing.’
‘And watching that film with people being shot at left, right and centre isn’t?’ asked Mum.
‘At least the film isn’t real.’
‘Elliot, you’re cute, but you should take more notice of what’s going on in the world around you.’
I slumped back in my chair. ‘Mum, I wish you wouldn’t call me that …’
‘Call you what?’
‘Cute!’ I said with disgust. ‘You’re always telling me I’m cute. And yesterday you called me that in front of Nosh.’
‘But you are cute, Elliot,’ Mum smiled.
‘Mum …’
‘OK! OK! I won’t show you up in public any more. But only if I can still call you cute in private.’ Mum grinned.
I shook my head. Mum was definitely in one of her funny-peculiar moods!
‘Why don’t you go for a walk or something?’ Mum suggested. ‘You could do with the exercise.’
‘I’m fit enough, thank you,’ I sulked.
‘I think I should buy you a dog for your birthday.’ Mum carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘At least that way you’d have to go to the park every day and get some fresh air, instead of staring at the TV or my PC screen all the time.’
‘The park! You must be joking. You know how much I hate the park.’
‘Why? What’s wrong with it? I used to love going to the park when I was your age.’ Mum looked all wistful. ‘I used to love the children’s playground – especially the swings. They were my favourite. What’s your favourite part of the park?’
‘Tony’s fish and chip shop across the road!’ I replied.
Mum laughed. ‘Honestly, Elliot! What am I going to do with you?’
‘Let me watch the rest of the film?’ I tried.
‘After the news,’ Mum said. Then she looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘Wait a minute. Is that the time? You couldn’t have seen the end of that film anyway. It’s getting close to your bedtime.’
That was it! The battle was well and truly lost! Mum turned up the volume as a presenter on the TV stood with a microphone in her hand, facing the camera.
‘Today, the environmental pressure group ANTIDOTE – or Action Now Thwarts Immoral Destruction Of The Environment – launched another demonstration against the chemical company, Shelby and Pardela Pharmaceuticals. The chief executive of ANTIDOTE, Sarah Irving, insisted that ANTIDOTE have acquired information proving that Shelby and Pardela are experimenting on rare and exotic animals, smuggled illegally into this country. I asked the co-chairman of Shelby’s, Mr Marcus Pardela, for his comments on these allegations.’
The scene cut to Marcus Pardela himself, a tall, broad-shouldered man with mid-brown hair, wearing a dark blue suit entering the Shelby and Pardela building. He was asked something which was lost under the commentary of some other wittering journalist, something which obviously made him angry. He turned to the camera, his eyes blazing.
‘I’ve never heard such arrant nonsense. And what’s more, I shall be contacting my lawyers and instructing them to sue Sarah Irving and her so-called protest organization ANTIDOTE for slander. My company has never and will never use rare animals in experiments. At the very least Sarah Irving has been misinformed. Now if you’ll excuse me.’ And with that, Marcus Pardela pushed past the reporters surrounding him and entered the building.
I couldn’t help smiling. My Uncle Robert worked for ANTIDOTE and he was always moaning about the way the TV and the newspapers reported his organization’s activities. That last report was bound to have him complaining about how Marcus Pardela and not ANTIDOTE was given the last word.
‘What d’you think of that?’ Mum asked me.
‘Of what?’
‘That news item about ANTIDOTE.’
‘Uncle will be pleased to see ANTIDOTE in the news again,’ I shrugged.
‘I didn’t mean that. I was talking about ANTIDOTE demonstrating against Shelby and Pardela Pharmaceuticals,’ Mum continued.
I frowned at her, surprised at the question. ‘It’s got nothing to do with me.’
Mum shook her head. ‘Yes, it does, Elliot. We each have to take responsibility for the world we live in.’
‘But I can’t do much about it,’ I protested.
‘Why not?’
‘I’m just a kid.’
‘So how old do you think you have to be before you can make a difference?’ Mum asked.
‘I don’t know. Besides, one person can’t really make that much of a difference, can they?’ I shrugged again.
‘Elliot, one person can make a lot of difference. All the difference in the world. I’ve told you that often enough,’ Mum said urgently.
I wrinkled up my nose. Mum and I had argued about this so many times before and I really didn’t want to discuss it again. Mum seemed to think that I could set off in the morning, move Mount Everest to Australia all by myself and be home in time for dinner – all I had to do was want it enough!
‘Mum, why are you a secretary?’ I asked, remembering my lesson earlier.
Mum turned to look at me. She had a strange, wary frown on her face. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
‘But you’ve told me you weren’t always a secretary.’
‘So?’
‘So what did you do before?’
‘A bit of this. A bit of that …’
‘What does that mean?’ It was like trying to get blood out of a stone!
‘It means it’s time for your bed,’ Mum said decisively.
‘Just tell me what you did before you were a secretary and then I’ll go to bed,’ I cajoled.
‘Elliot, some other time. I’m very tired,’ Mum sighed. ‘Now off you go and clean your teeth – and try cleaning the ones at the back of your mouth as well as the ones at the front. They need love and attention too.’
I stood up and walked slowly to the living-room door before turning back to Mum. A deep frown crept across my face. I’d only just realized something.
‘Why is it that whenever I ask you about what you did before you were a secretary, you always change the subject and try to shut me up?’
‘I don’t.’ Mum raised her eyebrows.
‘Oh, yes you do. You always do it.’
‘You’re imagining things.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Mum studied me, then sighed again. ‘If you must know, I used to work for the government.’
‘Doing what?’ I moved closer.
‘Special operations.’
‘What does that mean?’Whatever it was, it sounded really exciting.
‘It means I signed the Official Secrets Act so I’m not supposed to talk about it,’ Mum replied. ‘I’m not trying to be deliberately vague. It’s just I’m not meant to discuss it, even with my son.’
I walked back into the room and sat down on the arm of the sofa. Mum didn’t shout at me to sit down properly the way she usually did.
‘Was it something top secret and exciting and dangerous?’ I asked, hopefully.
‘No, dear,’ Mum laughed. ‘It was dull and tedious and very boring. That’s why I left. I had to retrieve and file documents mostly.’
My shoulders slumped with di
sappointment. ‘Oh, is that all?’
‘Yep! That’s all. Now off you go, Elliot.’ Mum smiled. ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’
I left the room and trudged up the stairs. All things considered, I knew I should be grateful that Mum at least had a job. A lot of my friends had parents who were out of work. But I must admit, I couldn’t help thinking, wishing – if only …
Chapter Three
Uncle Robert
I REACHED THE landing when the doorbell rang. I turned round to answer it but Mum beat me to it.
‘It’s OK. You go and clean your teeth,’ Mum called up to me.
But I hung around. I wanted to see who it was first. Mum opened the door.
‘Uncle Robert!’ I dashed down the stairs. ‘Hi, Uncle Robert. How’re you doing?’
‘How am I doing what?’ Uncle Robert grinned.
I laughed, even though Uncle Robert always says that when I ask him how he’s doing. ‘I didn’t know you were back in the country. When did you arrive? What were you working on this time? Was it exciting? Did you …?’
‘Er … Elliot, that’s enough. Your bed is calling to you. Your questions will have to wait till the next time Uncle Robert comes round,’ said Mum.
‘But …’
‘Don’t worry, Elliot. I’ll be round at the weekend and then I’ll tell you all about it. In the meantime, I’ve got you a present,’ winked Uncle Robert.
‘You have? Great!’ I looked at Uncle’s hands which were both empty. ‘Where is it?’
‘Elliot!’ Mum frowned.
I know I was being a bit what I would call eager and Mum would call rude, but presents are presents! Uncle Robert tilted back his head and roared with laughter. He dug into his inside jacket pocket and brought out an envelope. He made to hand over the envelope, but snatched it back before I’d barely touched it.
‘Have you still got all the other games I’ve brought you?’ asked Uncle Robert.
‘Of course.’
‘Finished them?’
‘Naturally!’
What a question! Of course I’d finished them! Mum wasn’t the only one in the family who could find her way around a computer. In fact sometimes – well, just occasionally when she was playing one of my games! – she had to ask me how to do things.
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