Amanda Lester and the Gold Spectacles Surprise

by Paula Berinstein

  Then again, what did a detective do? Snoop around gathering information so he could hand it over to someone else—the police, the Crown Prosecution Service, MI5. Sure, that way you could keep your hands clean, live your life in your head. And while you were doing that with your buffed nails and your neat little to-do lists, the other guys were messing up and letting criminals go free, free so they could steal and threaten and attack and kill again. It happened all the time and everyone knew it. And it could happen with Moran, a man who was so dangerous and crafty that he’d find a way to ply his trade no matter what. A man prison couldn’t contain even with thirty-foot walls and fortress-like cells. And Holmes knew he could never let that happen.

  He looked down at his hands. They were no longer shaking. He squeezed them into fists so tight that his nails tore half-moon shapes in his flesh. Then he shook them out and extracted a dart from his quiver. He pictured what he would see when he opened the door, mentally aimed and threw. In his mind he hit Moran in the heart.

  He reached for the knob and slowly pushed the door open. The man was standing there, a massive dark hulk in front of the classroom. When he saw Holmes he cried, “You!” Holmes released the dart and ran as fast as he could.

  Amanda could smell her before she could see her. Taffeta entered her office and closed the door behind her. She sat down at the desk and Amanda and Harry had to scramble to keep out of the way. Harry didn’t seem to mind because he was getting an eyeful, but Amanda was jittery. If the girl found them they were toast, even though there were three of them against her. Not that Amanda could count on Blixus, or even Harry. Actually, she didn’t know who would be on what side but she did know that Taffeta had goons she could call and they would be armed. For all she knew the girl was carrying a weapon.

  She heard her lay something on the desk. It sure sounded like spectacles, the way they clicked ever so lightly. Amanda felt herself breathe faster.

  Harry didn’t bat an eye. He probably didn’t know about them. Then why was he there? The secrets! He knew Taffeta had them and had come for them. But when had he turned to the dark side? Sure, he was mad at the detectives for throwing him out, but had he really gone as far as that? It was beginning to seem that ex-detectives were becoming a whole new class of criminal.

  Amanda wondered what Blixus was thinking behind those drapes. Was he going to jump Taffeta? He had to know someone else was in the office because he would have heard the door, but he might not know who. What would he do if she and Harry jumped out? Should she try to get Harry to help her take Blixus? What would Ivy do?

  She had sudden visions of the Marx Brothers and all those people crowded into that stateroom in “A Night at the Opera.” But that crowd wasn’t murderous. Taffeta’s office was a powder keg just waiting to explode and there was probably nothing Amanda could do to keep that from happening.

  Unless. Was there a way she could get Taffeta to leave the room? She couldn’t phone her because she didn’t have her number. Any noise she made would give her away, unless, of course, she were some sort of ventriloquist and could make it seem as if her voice were coming from outside. Hold on a second. Maybe there was a way to create a disturbance outside the office. Simon!

  She pulled out her phone and texted him. “Is there a way to make a sound come out of your phone but with a thrown voice, like in ventriloquism?”

  “Hang on,” he texted back. Then, within a few seconds he returned and said, “Download this app.”

  She didn’t know what she was looking at but she pressed the link and the app downloaded. Then she hit the Run icon and set the distance to fifteen feet and the direction to 340 degrees. She selected a sound effect and pressed Go, and lo and behold she could hear a noise out in the hall. Simon truly was a genius, even if he hadn’t written the app himself.

  Taffeta rose from the desk and opened the door. Amanda could hear her go outside, so she unfurled herself and saw that yes, the glasses were indeed sitting on the desk. She grabbed them, then peeked out the door. She couldn’t see Taffeta so she ran as fast and as quietly as she could for a closet. Yes, there was the one she’d seen on her way to the office. She opened the door and secreted herself inside, closing it quietly behind her. She was safe for the moment. What Harry and Blixus were doing she had no idea.

  She felt in her pocket and removed the glasses. What was so special about the things anyway? She put them on and looked about. It was dark in the closet but there was enough light to make out a few cleaning supplies. Nothing looked particularly weird. Nor did she feel different. So what was the big deal?

  She wished she could turn on the light and inspect them. Perhaps there was a mechanism that activated them. She felt the rims and handles but couldn’t find anything. Did they only work in a certain kind of light? Did you have to say some mumbo jumbo over them to get them to do something? Or were they a red herring?

  Then she heard it: an intruder alert. Suddenly there was scurrying and yelling and all manner of hubbub and then the closet door sprang open and Taffeta was looking straight at her.

  “Get up,” she said grabbing Amanda by the hair.

  She was steaming mad. She called for her guards, who showed up within about five seconds, huge and scary looking with shaved heads and guns. Was one of them the guy who’d taken Professor Snaffle? No, wait. Taffeta hadn’t taken the secrets teacher after all. She sure could have though. Either one of those apes could easily have overpowered the professor, even if she was six feet tall.

  “In the brig,” said Taffeta sharply.

  The tough guys grabbed Amanda and hustled her all the way down to the basements. It was the worst perp walk in history. They were extremely rough and by the time they’d thrown her into a cell she was bruised and hurting. Taffeta faced her and said, “I’ve had more than enough of you.” She turned to the guard and said, “Get Moran down here.” Then she felt in Amanda’s uniform and pulled the glasses out of her pocket.

  “Thought you were smart, did you?” she said. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.” She nodded at one of her goons and he handed her a huge book. She brandished it at Amanda. “Looking for this as well, were you? We saw you in the library. Well, take a good look because you’ll never have it either.”

  The guard handed her a lighter and she set fire to the book. It was the criminal’s bible Waltz had speculated about. Amanda watched helplessly as the thing burned.

  “Not to worry,” said Taffeta waving the glasses in front of Amanda’s face. “It’s all up here now.” She pointed to her brain, then slammed the cell door and turned the key.

  As she was watching the flames devour the book, Amanda heard a commotion. A mammoth of a man with dark, slicked-back hair and a goatee pushed the goons aside and faced her. He looked like he could crush a person with one hand. He reached in his pocket and she saw her opportunity. She surreptitiously snaked her hand into her own pocket and touched her phone. The deafening Devil’s interval sounded and everyone covered their ears. As the chord continued to play they doubled over in pain, Moran included. But Amanda was immune. She’d expected something like this and had donned earplugs while hiding in the closet.

  Suddenly from out of nowhere Blixus dashed into the brig. Caught by surprise, he too doubled over at the awful noise. With everyone disabled Amanda reached through the bars, turned the key, and escaped. As she raced through the castle she could hear someone behind her, closer and closer. Then strong arms surrounded her, pinching and squeezing until she thought she would faint. The man said, “Hello, Lestrade. Miss me?” It was Blixus.

  All at once holograms exploded into the hallway. Lights flashed and figures swooped out of thin air. One of them, a boy with dark, curly hair laughed and showed his teeth, and Blixus screamed. “No! Don’t die on me!” He dropped a necklace on the floor and tried to catch hold of the hologram. He pulled some paper out of his pocket and held it up to the figure. “Here it is,” he said. “I’ve got it at last. You’d be proud of me, Amboy.”

  I
t had worked! Simon had got his history machine to project holograms of Blixus’s deceased twin brother, and the man was freaking out. He pleaded with the boy not to die and begged him to come back, he’d never meant to hurt him. He waved the metadata again and again, offering it as an incentive to forgive him for whatever he’d done.

  Amanda mentally thanked Simon, then charged Blixus. She tussled with him for a moment and grabbed at the metadata. Coming to his senses he pulled it back and in the struggle it tore. Aghast, she stared at the ruined paper, then dove for the necklace, but Blixus had recovered and snatched it away. Realizing that the game had changed she took off as fast as she could go with him hot on her heels.

  Holmes had no idea if he’d hit Moran. He’d fled from the classroom so fast he couldn’t tell. What he did know was that suddenly people were everywhere and he was about to be caught. He ducked into a closet and held his breath.

  He’d thought through every contingency but now that he was faced with the reality of the situation he was panicking. Whatever Moran was, whatever he’d done, Holmes just could not kill a man. If he’d actually accomplished that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Solving crimes was one thing, revenge another. A detective should know the difference.

  If he had killed Moran nothing mattered anymore. Since he couldn’t live with the guilt, they might as well kill him. But if he hadn’t he might have a chance at redemption. He wished with all his heart that he hadn’t succeeded and vowed that if he escaped he would atone for the rest of his life.

  They’d find him eventually. If he remained where he was he could depend on that. But if he ventured out he might have a chance to get away. He consulted his map. He was close to the front of the school. He could make a run for it.

  He opened the closet door, peeked out, and saw something that nearly stopped his heart. Amanda was running through the foyer with Blixus Moriarty after her! At least he thought it was her. She looked different—taller and ungainly—and what was that outfit she was wearing? Still, he’d know her anywhere. What was she doing there?

  He saw two thugs with rifles run into the room and instinct took over. No one was going to hurt Amanda. He charged one of the men and grabbed his rifle, bashing him with the butt to keep him down. Then, as Amanda and Blixus ran down the front steps, he lifted the rifle and aimed at the criminal through the swirling fog, pulling the trigger just as Taffeta and the other guard got to him. The last thing he saw as they subdued him was Amanda on the ground, and a lot of blood.

  Half blinded by the fog and the reflection of the house lights that bounced off it, Amanda ran. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see where she was going. If Blixus caught her she was done for. Suddenly there was searing pain in her shoulder and she stumbled and fell. She lay there for a moment, panting, then somehow managed to scramble back up and ran as fast as she could. She didn’t even notice that the footsteps behind her had ceased.

  When she reached the car Fern just about had a fit. She helped Amanda inside and took off, plowing through the mist. The next thing Amanda knew Fern was talking to Salty, but then she passed out and heard no more.

  When she came to she felt as if her shoulder were on fire and moaned.

  “Hush,” said Fern. “I’m taking you to Legatum. Salty couldn’t come. I wrapped the wound.”

  “Wha?” said Amanda, and passed out again.

  Lila screamed. Waltz rolled over and said, “What’s wrong, love?”

  “Amanda’s been shot,” she wailed. “I have to do something!”

  He felt for his reading glasses and sat up. “What?”

  “That Moriarty,” she panted. “He shot her. At Taffeta’s.”

  “What do you mean ‘at Taffeta’s?” he said fumbling with the glasses. It took him three tries to get them onto his face.

  Lila could barely breathe. She clutched at her chest. “Amanda went there with Fern. To steal Moriarty’s spectacles.”

  He took her in his arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. What spectacles?”

  She buried her head in his chest. “My daughter’s been shot!” said Lila. “I don’t have time for spectacles. What do I do?”

  “Call 999,” he said.

  “And tell them what?”

  “What do you mean?” he said. “Tell them where she is.”

  “But I don’t know what Fern’s car looks like. How will they recognize her?”

  “You know what route she’s on. How many vehicles can there be there this time of night?”

  “Right,” she said, and dialed 999.

  When she’d finished shrieking at the dispatcher he said, “Now what’s this about spectacles?”

  “Some magic glasses or . . . I don’t know,” she said. She put the phone on the nightstand and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t understand. I just know that Amanda went to Schola to look for them.”

  “She went to Taffeta’s?” he said, stroking her hair. “What would these glasses, whatever they are, be doing there?”

  “I have no idea,” said Lila. “I don’t even know what they are. I just heard her talking to Taffeta, and then I thought I heard Blixus—”

  “Moriarty was there? With the metadata?”

  “I don’t know. I just heard him in the background. Then she was running and there was a shot and—”

  “You’re still tracking her?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He reached for the phone. “Turn it up. Let’s hear.”

  The next time Amanda came to she was lying in bed. She could hear Dr. Wing’s voice off somewhere in the distance but she was so groggy she couldn’t get her eyes open and drifted back to sleep.

  After what could have been minutes, hours, or days she began to stir. She heard the soft whirring of machinery. Her shoulder hurt like crazy. Where was she and why was she in pain? Then she remembered the castle and how she’d been running with Blixus pursuing her and then nothing. Had he killed her? Was she dead?

  Panic took hold of her and she opened her eyes. She was all wired up in one of Dr. Wing’s hospital beds and Nick was sitting in a chair watching her. When he saw her eyes open, he came over and kissed her. Then he sat on the bed and held her hand.

  The next time she woke he was gone.

  25

  Gibberish

  Amanda lay in that bed for three days before she could think straight. Visions of Nick danced in her brain, mingled with images of Blixus and Taffeta and magic spectacles and an overwhelming sense of dread. Then when she felt that she could actually process a thought she asked Dr. Wing if she could see Fern.

  “The glasses,” she said when Fern entered the room. “They were in my pocket, I think.”

  “Safe,” said Fern, smiling. She reached in her bag and pulled out a hard case, then opened it and held it up. The glasses shone like King Tut’s treasure.

  “You’re sure they’re the right ones?” said Amanda reaching for them.

  Fern laid them in Amanda’s hand. “Positive. Taffeta has the copy. She’s probably fuming, but she’ll have to penetrate our security to get the real ones back.”

  Amanda squinted at the glasses. They were lovely and fashionable, as Basilica had said. Other than that they looked completely ordinary. She handed them back.

  “That was a great idea you had, 3D printing a dummy. If I hadn’t had that she would have gotten them.”

  “Always happy to help,” said Fern. She reached for Amanda’s hand. “Dr. Wing says you’re going to be fine.”

  If Amanda had even thought about her condition she would have felt relief. She hadn’t. The wound still hurt like the dickens but she had been so out of it she hadn’t had the presence of mind to speculate about her health.

  “I don’t know what happened back there but Blixus was following me,” she said. “He must have been the one who shot me. What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know,” said Fern. “I didn’t see him.”

  “Harry Sheriff was there,” said Amanda.

&
nbsp; Fern gasped. “No! Why?”

  “I have no idea. I ran into him in Taffeta’s office. OMG, Fern, I was stuck under her desk with him and he was leering at me like he always does. It was disgusting.”

  “Ugh. Did he touch you?”

  “Thankfully no. He wanted to though. I could see it in his eyes.”

  “Double ugh and triple blech.” She scrunched up her face as if she’d eaten rancid meat. “You, Harry, and Blixus all there at the same time. It must have been quite a night. All after the spectacles? How could they know about them?”

  Amanda lowered her voice. “I don’t know, but I need to tell you something. A descendant of Sebastian Moran is teaching at the school. Eamon Augustus Moran.”

  Fern’s eyes widened. “What? Are you sure?”

  “Unfortunately yes. He’s huge. A terrible-looking man. He’s like Darktower on steroids but even uglier. His face looks like the bottom of a shoe.”

  “Moran’s family hasn’t been heard from for years. Are you absolutely positive?”

  “I am. I don’t know why we haven’t heard of him before but he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. He was there big as life. Bigger actually.”

  Fern took her phone out and pressed something. “I’ll tell Thrillkill.”

  “You mean Buck.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to tell him too. But Thrillkill first.”

  “But he’s—“

  “Harry kidnapped him from jail but he escaped. He’s back in his cell. Thrillkill, I mean. It sounds like Harry is with Taffeta. Is he back together with her?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Amanda. “It looked more like he was trying to steal the secrets.”

  “Did he get them?”