He clattered his way through the debris of odds and ends which half-filled his lab. Clearing a space on his workbench by sweeping a load of electrical components off it with his sleeve, he placed the photo down, face up.
‘Any definite leads yet?’ he said, while he rooted around for various gizmos.
‘No, not really,’ I said. ‘Half the problem is that Spykeside School is miles away and I’ve got no way of investigating the place. And the other half of the problem is that I’m stumped.’
Muddy set up a kind of tripod around the printout, at the top of which he fixed something which might once have been a camera. Or possibly an electric whisk.
‘Put this together from half a pair of binoculars and the innards of my dad’s phone,’ said Muddy, making a few delicate adjustments. ‘Designed to catch fast-moving action at sports events. Only it takes a while to set up, so it’s not very good for that. If I fiddle with the lens, we should be able to see the picture much more clearly. So, you’ve no real clues, as such?’
‘Weeellll,’ I said, a bit embarrassed, ‘I’m, y’know, keeping an open mind and, umm, y’know . . .’
‘That bad, huh?’ He tapped a tiny screen on the side of the device and it flickered into life. He started pressing a few buttons.
‘There is one thing I’m sure of,’ I said. ‘The way the Spykeside team are hiding behind nicknames is significant. They’re a funny-looking bunch, as you can see from that picture, and they’re being very sneaky about their cheating methods. But without knowing who any of them are, it’s very hard to work out what to do next. We know they’re getting hold of the quiz questions in advance, but since we have no way of identifying any of them —’
Muddy suddenly turned and looked at me. Even under the layer of dirt on his face, I could tell he’d gone pale with horror.
‘No way of identifying them?’ he said quietly. ‘We have now. Look.’
He pointed at the little screen. I leaned in close. Then I went pale with horror too. I must have done, because my stomach did a somersault and the rest of my insides did much the same. My entire body felt like an athletics meeting!
On the screen, the photo had been brightened, and sharpened, and twisted slightly. All the faces in it were now even weirder-looking than before. But the blurred one, the face of this Mr Electron person, had gained a distinct outline.
If you hadn’t ever met Mr Electron in real life, you still might not have been able to tell who it was in the photo. But I had met him in real life. We all had.
This Mr Electron person was someone I thought I was rid of for good, someone I’d hoped I wouldn’t meet again. It was my arch-enemy – that low-down rat Harry Lovecraft.
CHAPTER
FOUR
‘WE NEVER DID FIND OUT which school he’d gone to, did we?’ said Muddy. ‘Now we know.’
(If you don’t know who Harry Lovecraft is, here’s a quick explanation: he’s a low-down rat. If you do know who Harry Lovecraft is, you’ll be as horrified as I was. That villainous worm, whose underhand schemes I’d foiled many times, had left St Egbert’s after the events of my case file Five Seconds to Doomsday. I really thought we’d seen the last of him. I should have known better!)
I could hardly believe my eyes. No, on second thoughts, my eyes were telling me what I should already have guessed.
‘Of course!’ I cried, slapping a hand to my forehead. ‘This case has got Harry Lovecraft written all over it!’
‘But there’s just this Mr Electron nickname here,’ said Muddy, examining Izzy’s printout.
‘Noooo,’ I said. ‘I mean this sort of cheating is typical of what that low-down rat gets up to.’ I slapped a hand to my forehead again. ‘Of course! That’s the reason the Spykeside team are using nicknames. That’s the reason they want to stay anonymous. That’s the reason Harry moved as this photo was being taken, so his face would be obscured.’
‘What reason is that, then?’ asked Muddy.
‘Every team knows which other schools are in the competition, right?’ I said. ‘It’s been posted up on the Brain Boom Schools Quiz Challenge website from the start. So Harry knew a team from St Egbert’s – his old school – were taking part. He knew that if we realised he was one of the Spykeside team, we’d smell a low-down rat instantly.
‘So he made sure that the identities of all four Spykeside team members were as hidden as possible, just so we wouldn’t know he was involved until it was too late. Of course!’ I nearly slapped a hand to my forehead again. But I didn’t. It was giving me a headache. ‘That’s why Mr Electron hasn’t answered one question so far! Harry knew we’d be listening in. He didn’t want to run the risk of us recognising his voice!’
‘I don’t get it, said Muddy. ‘Surely he realised we’d be on to him eventually? What if St Egbert’s had been drawn to play Spykeside in round one?’
‘If Harry’s been able to get the questions in advance,’ I said, ‘he may also have been able to influence who’s played who. It may be that he’s rigged the competition so that St Egbert’s wouldn’t have any contact at all with Spykeside, unless St Egbert’s also reached the grand final.’
‘Which we have,’ said Muddy.
‘Which we have,’ I agreed.
‘So, he’s been banking on our team not making it to the final. Or making it through, turning up for the final, and only then realising that he’s been involved all along?’
‘Absolutely right,’ I said. ‘And at that point, it’d be too late. The final would be about to happen, live on Vibe FM. We wouldn’t have time to gather any proof. If we started saying “Ooooh, we know that kid and he’s not to be trusted”, it’d simply sound like sour grapes. He’s gambled that his identity would stay hidden from us long enough for Spykeside’s cheating to go unsuspected.’
‘But his gamble hasn’t paid off,’ said Muddy. ‘We’ve rumbled him one day early. To day’s Friday, and the final is tomorrow afternoon. We’ve got time to go to Vibe FM and blow Spykeside out of the water.’
I thought carefully for a few moments. ‘No. We shouldn’t do that.’
‘Huh?’ gasped Muddy. ‘Why? Let’s go!’
‘We still don’t know how Spykeside have set this up. We don’t know if Harry’s got someone working for him at the radio station. If we go charging into Vibe FM, we might alert Harry’s helper and the whole scheme might be shredded and covered up before we can expose what Spykeside have been up to.’
‘But surely the whole questions-answered-early thing proves Spykeside have been cheating?’ said Muddy. ‘What more do we need?’
‘We need to know exactly what this is all about,’ I said. ‘We need to know who is involved, and how, and why. Is it just about winning the prizes? Could there be more to this than we’ve seen so far?’
‘I think you’re being too cautious,’ said Muddy. ‘If Harry Lovecraft is mixed up in this, that’s all I need to know. Let’s get the so-and-so. We don’t have much time!’
I was still wary of rushing things. I persuaded Muddy to come with me back to Izzy’s house. I wanted to find out if she’d uncovered any more information. Luckily, Izzy agreed with me.
‘I hate to say it, guys,’ she said, spinning slowly in her glittery swivel chair, ‘but it could still be the case that Harry is innocent. What if someone at Vibe FM is the real villain and is controlling the Spykeside team for some reason we don’t know about yet?’
‘Rubbish,’ said Muddy. ‘Once a low-down rat, always a low-down rat.’
‘I have been wrong about Harry Lovecraft in the past,’ I said, reluctantly. ‘Well, once anyway.’
The three of us sat there for a while, staring at each other blankly. Then we stared blankly at each other for a bit longer, because we still didn’t know what to do.
At last, Izzy broke the silence. ‘I have an idea,’ she said. ‘It’s a long shot, but it might provide a few answers.’
‘And your idea is . . .?’ I said.
‘We call Mike O’Phone,’ said Izzy.
‘Who?’ said Muddy and I together.
‘The DJ at Vibe FM who’s the quizmaster,’ replied Izzy. ‘I told you before, he’s probably the one who’s compiling the questions. We know Harry’s team is getting the questions in advance. See the connection? We call, tell him we’re from Spykeside, have a little conversation, no?’
‘Mike what?’ spluttered Muddy. ‘That can’t be his real name.’
‘You think?’ I said, giving him a boggle-eyed look. I turned back to Izzy. ‘Are you suggesting that we should ring up this DJ and pretend to be Harry Lovecraft? Are you suggesting we risk this entire investigation? Are you suggesting we resort to the sort of sneaky tactics Harry Lovecraft might use?’
‘Yes.’
‘Brilliant idea,’ I said. ‘Hand me the phone.’
A few minutes’ search on the internet got us the number for Vibe FM. My fingers shook as I tapped at Izzy’s mobile.
‘Vibe FM, howcanIhelpyoooo?’ crackled a squeaky voice at the other end of the line.
‘Hello,’ I said, trying not to let my voice sound wobbly. ‘Can I speak to Mike O’Phone please?’
‘One moment please, I’ll see if he’s still in the studio, who shall I say is calliiiiing?’
‘Er, tell him it’s Harry.’
‘One moment.’ There was a click and a bouncy pop tune cut in. As I waited, I glanced up at Izzy and Muddy. They looked as scared as I felt. Ten seconds later, there was another click.
‘Yes? H-Harry?’ said a man’s voice.
My heart hopped a couple of beats. ‘Mike,’ I said. ‘I’m calling about tomorrow’s questions.’ I gave myself a mental pat on the back. I could do a pretty good imitation of that low-down rat’s slimy tones.
‘Y-You OK?’ asked Mike O’Phone. ‘You sound funny. Do you have a cold?’
‘Er, yes. Bad cold,’ I said. ‘All bunged up. Now, those questions . . .’
‘I-I-I emailed them y-yesterday! Honest, I did! Like I promised! I swear! P-Please, Harry, I sent them to the usual address, like you told me!’
‘I’m, umm, on a geography field trip. Send them to my webmail, which is . . .’ I snapped my fingers and pointed to Izzy’s computer. She quickly scribbled down an email address for me. ‘. . . [email protected].’
‘. . . That’s your webmail, is it?’
‘Just do it!’
‘Y-Yes, Harry. S-Sorry. I’ll do it now.’
I switched the phone off. I let out a long breath. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘that guy is terrified of Harry. I think we’ve got our answers.’
‘Harry must have some sort of hold over him,’ said Muddy. ‘You see, I was right!’
A few seconds later, there was a bleep at Izzy’s computer. A couple of mouse clicks and a handful of sheets hummed from the printer.
Izzy swung around in her chair, her eyes tightly shut. ‘If those are tomorrow’s questions, don’t let me see them! We’ve got all the proof we need. Vibe FM’s email address will be printed at the top.’
‘Yeah, and so is yours,’ said Muddy.
Izzy’s eyes snapped open. ‘Oh bum, you’re right. I’m going to have to resign from the team. Someone else will have to take my place.’
‘Hang on, hang on,’ I said. ‘There’s no point worrying about that. Harry’s already got these questions anyway.’
‘Yes,’ said Muddy. ‘And now we’ve all got them. It’s a fair competition again.’
‘Don’t be daft!’ I said. ‘You can’t have both sides cheating, it’s, er, it’s double cheating . . . or something . . .’
‘But we can now beat Spykeside at their own game,’ said Muddy.
‘No way,’ said Izzy. ‘If the St Egbert’s team take advantage of this, it’ll make us as bad as them! In any case, if all the contestants know all the questions, it’ll end up as a mad buzzer free-for-all! The final will have to be scrapped. I vote we take these questions to the Head, and show her what’s been going on.’
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ I said with a smile. ‘I’ve thought of a way we can stop Spykeside from winning this competition and avoid turning our own team into cheats at the same time.’
‘How?’ asked Muddy.
CHAPTER
FIVE
THE MAIN HALL AT SCHOOL was packed with pupils, teachers and parents, huddled on rows of plastic chairs which the school caretaker had spent all morning setting out. In front of them was a straight line of tables, with the four members of the St Egbert’s quiz team (including Jeremy Sweetly and Izzy) at one end, and the four members of the Spykeside team at the other. Cables from buzzers and microphones snaked about, connecting up to a set of machines over which was crouched a Vibe FM technician.
The short, tubby shape of Mike O’Phone sat between the two teams. He had a fountain-like hairdo which was far too big for his tiny face, and a multi-coloured Hawaiian shirt which made me wish I’d worn sunglasses. He kept waving at different people, aiming a finger-gun and a snappy grin at them. Nobody took the slightest notice. Some sheets of paper were clutched in his hands.
A young woman wearing a huge Vibe FM T-shirt and a pair of headphones was fussing up and down the hall. ‘Two minutes to transmission, everyone!’ she shouted. ‘Stand by, Mike!’
I was sitting at one end of the front row, a few seats along from the Head, who was beaming with pride and joy at the St Egbert’s team. Beside me, slouched on the floor, was Jeremy Sweetly’s vast, slobbery dog, Humphrey. He kept licking his chops and shedding hair all over the place. That mutt could set off my allergies at any moment! If he hadn’t been a vital part of Operation: Revenge on Spykeside, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near him. I hate that dog.
Izzy and the rest of the team were looking calm and confident. At the other end of the tables, Harry Lovecraft was looking as slimy as a wet toad. I gave him a look which said ‘Oh, gee whizz, what a surprise, fancy seeing you here’. He gave me a look which said ‘You can’t stop me this time, ha ha ha’.
The other three members of the Spykeside team were even more horrific in real life than they’d been in that photo. Captain Cool and Superguy should have been called Creature from the Swamp and Creature from the Even Worse Swamp. It was only when the Brainiator – the one who appeared to eat nails for breakfast – stood up and went to the loo that I realised it was a girl!
‘One minute to transmission!’ shouted the Vibe FM woman.
I looked over at Izzy. She gave a faint nod.
Begin Operation: Revenge on Spykeside, Phase One.
I unhooked Humphrey’s leash.
Mike O’Phone cleared his throat and shuffled his papers. He glanced over at Harry Lovecraft nervously.
‘Your, umm, cold better today?’ he asked.
‘My what?’ sneered Harry.
Jeremy Sweetly gave a little cough. Humphrey suddenly bounded over the tables and landed heavily in Mike O’Phone’s lap. With a wailing cry, he toppled backwards, papers flying out of his hands in a fluttering shower.
Everyone in the hall gasped. Jeremy and Izzy hurried over to help him up. Izzy quickly gathered the papers and handed them back.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Jeremy. ‘He’s a big fan of yours.’
‘Oh, is he?’ said Mike O’Phone. He’d been about to explode with anger, but not any more.
‘Oh yes, he loves your show,’ said Jeremy.
Mike O’Phone fired a quick finger-gun and a wink at Humphrey.
‘Get that dog away!’ squealed the Vibe FM woman. ‘Ten seconds to transmission! Lots of applause, everyone, lots of cheers!’
Everyone started to cheer and applaud.
‘Naughty doggie,’ said Jeremy, ushering Humphrey back to me. ‘Bad Humphrey-Wumphrey, stay there.’
Humphrey settled down next to me again. As he did so, a horrible smell suddenly drifted off him. I pinched my nose. The Head sniffed and gave me a filthy look. I hate that dog.
‘Hello, hello, hello,’ announced Mike O’Phone into his microphone, with a grin like a motorway of teet
h running from ear to ear. ‘You’re listening to Vibe FM and this is the grand final of the Brain Boom Schools Quiz Challenge . . .’
The Vibe FM lady waved her hands for more cheers, and everyone cheered again.
‘Both teams are ready and waiting. Are you nervous, St Egbert’s?’
‘We’re quietly confident,’ said Izzy into her microphone.
‘OooKaay, are you feeling confident too, Spykeside?’
‘Oh yeah,’ grunted the Brainiator with a smile.
‘OooKaay, we all know the rules, first to the buzzer is first to answer, two points for a correct answer, one point deducted for a wrong answer. In just half an hour, we’ll know which team will be our Brain Boom champion!’
More cheering. I think everyone was getting a bit fed up of the whole cheering thing now. There was a definite feeling of Get On With It in the hall.
‘Here we go!’ cried Mike O’Phone. ‘Fingers on buzzers! What is twelve times twenty-four?’
Buzz! (Spykeside.)
‘Yes, Captain Cool?’ said Mike O’Phone.
‘Three hundred!’ said Captain Cool.
Mike O’Phone’s grin vanished. He re-checked his question sheets. ‘Er, no, umm, that’s incorrect Spykeside. One point deducted.’
The Spykeside team looked at each other, puzzled.
‘OooKaay, so let’s offer that question to St Egbert’s. What is twelve times twenty-four?’
Izzy, Jeremy and the others sat there with hmm-dunno expressions on their faces. For several seconds there was silence. The Head gaped at the team in shock. She knew that a question like that was easy-peasy for a brainbox like Izzy. But nope, the St Egbert’s team shook their heads sadly, sorry, no idea, no answer.
‘Er, OooKaay,’ said Mike O’Phone at last, ‘the answer is two hundred and eighty-eight. Next question. The Battle of Hastings in 1066 was won by —’
Buzz! (Spykeside again.)
‘Superguy, Spykeside?’ called Mike O’Phone.
‘William the Conqueror,’ piped up Superguy.
Mike O’Phone squirmed slightly. ‘No, you buzzed too soon there, Spykeside. Here’s the full question for St Egbert’s. The Battle of Hastings in 1066 was won by William of Normandy, but who did he defeat?’
The Poisoned Arrow Page 10
