Heather Vogel Frederick                        

Spy Mice 3: Goldwhiskers

The door to the laboratory flew open and Miss Honeyberry scurried in. She was clutching a sheaf of photos. 'We found something,' she said breathlessly, handing them to her boss. 'Aerial shots of the Tower from yesterday. Look.'
  She plucked one of the photos from the stack and passed it to Sir Edmund. Glory, Bubble and Squeak crowded round to get a closer look.
  'It was taken yesterday afternoon, just before closing,' said Miss Honeyberry. 'Pilot thought it was just the sun reflecting in a puddle.' She tapped the photo with her paw. 'There, down at the base of Traitors Gate.'
  Four furry little heads drew together as the spy mice examined the photo. 'Can you ask them to enlarge this?' asked Sir Edmund.
  Miss Honeyberry passed him another photo. 'I already did.' The four heads drew together again.
  'It's them,' said Squeak. 'I'd stake my skateboard on it.'
  'As would I,' agreed Bubble.
  'I'd know that ugly snout anywhere,' said Glory grimly. She looked up at the camera. 'Julius, it's Dupont. He's in London. With Stilton Piccadilly. They're here in this picture with the rat with the golden whiskers. The three of them are working together.'
  There was a long silence.
  'That explains it, then,' said Julius. 'Revenge, rat-style.'
  Sir Edmund nodded soberly. 'It would seem so.'
  'We have to find them!' cried Glory. 'We have to get the Crown Jewels back, or Oz and DB will go to jail!'
  'We have to find them first,' said Bubble. 'They haven't been anywhere near Piccadilly's lair - we've had it under surveillance 24/7 since he disappeared last month.'
  'True,' said Sir Edmund.
  'I have an idea,' said Bunsen, ducking out of view.
  'Where's he going?' said Sir Edmund as the lab mouse disappeared offscreen.
  'I believe he means to check with AMI,' Julius replied.
  'Amy?' Glory said, trying not to sound jealous. 'Who's she?'
  'Not a "she", my dear - a "what",' Julius informed her. 'AMI stands for "Artificial Mouse Intelligence". Your beau has built a computer. He's been keeping it under wraps at my orders.'
  Z gave a low whistle. 'A computer! That's incredible!'
  'And never fear, we're not holding out on our closest allies,' Julius assured him. 'We'll be sending you the specifications shortly. Bunsen just wanted to work the bugs out first.'
  Bunsen reappeared, towing his new invention. He fastened on the extra-strength helmet and clambered on to the keyboard. 'I'm not very good at this yet,' he said timidly. 'In fact, I''m all paws. Not like you, Glory.'
  Before she became a field agent, Glory was a trained computer gymnast. She'd been plucked from the typing pool by Julius, who knew talent when he spotted it.
  They all watched silently as Bunsen hopped slowly from one key to the next. 'I'm Googling "gold" and "whisker" and "London",' he shouted, breathing hard. 'You never know - maybe we'll find something.'
  He halted, panting, and stared at AMI's screen. 'Let's see . . . hmm . . . didn't turn up much. There's "Golden Girls and White Whiskers" -'
  Squeak waved her paw dismissively. 'That's some silly play at a theatre in the West End. I overheard the concierge at the Savoy talking about it. A lot of the elderly guests have booked tickets.'
  Bunsen peered at his computer again. 'How about "Goldilocks and Granny's Whiskers"? No, wait. That's a hair salon.' He drooped slightly and slanted a glance at Glory. 'Guess this wasn't such a good idea.'
  'Don't give up now, Bunsen,' Glory encouraged. 'Keep looking.'
  Her beau shrugged and scanned the screen, muttering under his breath as he dismissed one entry after another. Finally, he gave a slight hop to click on one of the links. 'Now this is odd,' he said.
  'What?' said Sir Edmund.
  'D. G. Whiskers, Esquire, just placed an order at the Savoy for afternoon tea. The hamper is due to be delivered to his office in about an hour.'
  'What's so odd about that?' demanded the head of MICE-6.
  Bunsen shrugged again. 'The address is 80 Strand.'
  'That's right next to the Savoy!' said Squeak.
  'Exactly,' Bunsen replied. 'The hotel where Oz and DB are staying. It just seems like an odd coincidence, that's all.'
  Sir Edmund stroked his tail thoughtfully. 'It's a long shot.'
  'But worth a look, perhaps,' said Julius. 'Mr Burner has a hunch, and I've learned in this business that sometimes it's best to go with one's hunches.'
  'Perhaps you're right,' agreed Sir Edmund. '"Always trust your gut," my great-grandfather used to say.'
  The mice were quiet for a long moment. Finally, Glory spoke up.
  'I hear the Savoy has changed its menu,' she said. 'This year's Christmas Eve tea features scones with a side of spy mice. I'm going in.'

Spy Mice 3: Goldwhiskers © Heather Vogel Frederick, 2007. Published by Puffin.