Max decided they shouldn’t use the front door this morning. Instead, they’d head out via the secret lift that would take them from the basement of their house to the terrace in John Islip Street, where his mother had set up her private practice before she was convinced to reactivate her spy status and join the Pharos Clinic. The contraption travelled sideways, as well as up and down, and was a source of great wonder to the children. Though they were disappointed they still hadn’t experienced the lift from their grandmother’s office at the Beacon to her office at Pharos HQ. According to his father, it was even more perplexing than this one.

‘My goodness, your house has some mad things in it,’ Autumn said as they exited the lift into the basement flat.

‘That it does,’ Max agreed.

Autumn and Max hurried up the stairs and out onto the street, turning right towards school.

A couple of locals stood outside the front of Grigsby’s Newsagency, where a crate of milk and a pile of papers was sitting on the footpath. Max wished he had the keys to take the goods inside, but they were safely locked away like their owner. He’d been thinking about Derek and how he might be getting on with Percy – or not.

‘Derek must be sick,’ an older woman with curly hair said to the young man beside her. ‘He’s been very reliable since he took over. And far more pleasant than that awful mother of his.’

Max felt a pang of guilt. It was partly his fault that Derek wasn’t available. He should have put up a sign yesterday, but there was no time now. He’d do it later on his way home.

The man and woman chatted for a few moments before walking away in opposite directions.

‘Should we say anything to Magoo when we get to school?’ Autumn asked, returning to the conversation she and Max had been having as they walked off. The children had looked for the man’s notes in the guest room before they left, but he must have taken them.

‘I don’t think so,’ Max said. ‘Probably best we try to decode the information ourselves before we accuse him of hiding anything.’

It was getting more and more difficult to know what to do with zero leads whatsoever on their missing family and friends. Now that Dr Foster had disappeared and Mrs Thornthwaite was dead, things were increasingly complicated.

They were meeting Mr Reffell and Mr Frizzle in their grandmother’s Pharos office that morning before school to talk tactics – maybe they’d share their concerns about Mr MacGregor and, more so, his wife. Someone was behind the coup and, while Magoo had seemed horrified by what had happened at the clinic, he was still a suspect.

At school, Autumn and Max headed through the front reception area.

‘Good morning,’ Daphne Potts trilled. She pushed her glasses to the top of her head and stood up, walking to the counter.

‘Hello, Mrs Potts, is Mr MacGregor about?’ Max asked.

‘No, he hasn’t arrived yet,’ the woman replied. ‘I was expecting him before now.’

Max and Autumn exchanged knowing looks. Magoo’s lie had just been confirmed.

Autumn found herself assessing Mrs Potts to see if there was anything different about her. Everyone in the organisation was currently under a cloud of suspicion, given that someone was passing out scarabs and leading a coup.

Clad in one of her trademark hand-knit cardigans – this one blue in a Fair Isle pattern with a pair of colourful parrots hanging from her ears – Mrs Potts was as jolly and fashionably unfashionable as ever. Autumn couldn’t detect anything odd.

‘Is there something you need, Max?’ Mrs Potts asked. She absently tapped her long red fingernails on the countertop.

He shook his head. ‘Mum said to let you know that Kensy is sick and Curtis too. They’re both home with the flu.’

The woman gave a smile. ‘Poor things. There’s a lot going around at the moment. Hope they’re both feeling better soon.’

Autumn and Max said goodbye and walked down the hallway to their lockers. Carlos and Sachin were there, jostling each other while unpacking their things.

‘Hey, how good was assembly yesterday?’ Sachin said.

The school had gone wild when Sachin had answered the final question correctly, beating Phyllis Webster on a question about cricket.

‘It was great,’ Max said.

Autumn had missed the whole thing and had no idea what happened.

‘Yeah, it was. It’s probably the biggest break of my life, but then I only got it because Kensy did a runner. By the way, where is she?’

‘Sick,’ Max said.

‘Sorry to hear it. Mum’s cooking up one of her massive Indian feasts on Sunday. She asked if you all wanted to come,’ Sachin said.

‘Of course,’ Max said.

Autumn agreed as well, but the two of them weren’t really thinking about their plans for the weekend.

Max had just spotted Monty Reffell walking down the hallway. The man glanced towards them and tilted his head ever so slightly backwards. They had to get to their meeting point. It looked as if the teacher had something to share.

Autumn tugged on Max’s sleeve. ‘Sorry, we’ve got to go. See you later,’ she said.

‘Is everything all right?’ Sachin asked.

Max and Autumn nodded, but it was clear the other boy didn’t believe it for a second.

Monty and Elliot had shocking news. Elliot had managed to wheedle information out of several staff members, using the fact that he had a scarab, and found that Cilla Caspari, Theo Richardson and Gordon Nutting had all been offered them too, though they hadn’t yet made up their minds. He didn’t even bother asking Willow Witherbee – from what Autumn had told him about overhearing the woman in the weapons room, she had one and was likely heading for the dark side. The coup was in full swing and if they didn’t find Cordelia and the others fast, the takeover was almost inevitable. Unfortunately, if anyone knew who was behind it they weren’t saying – yet – though Max and Autumn were increasingly sure that Tippie was part of it.

Max was keeping an eye on the time. It was almost first period and they had to get back upstairs. He and Autumn had maths with Miss Ziegler. Mr Frizzle hadn’t been able to speak to her yet, so they’d do some research.

‘I’ve got this afternoon free,’ Monty said. ‘We could go back to the clinic then and look for more clues.’

Max agreed.

The teachers left the office first. Max and Autumn hung back. ‘I’m going to try to get hold of Curtis,’ Max said.

He dialled the boy’s number. It picked up on the third ring.

‘Still sick,’ Curtis said. He sounded awful.

Max frowned. ‘Can you talk?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Curtis replied, and hung up.

‘What happened?’ Autumn said.

Max relayed the conversation, not that there was much to it. But this time he wasn’t going to be fooled. Max dialled again.

‘Curtis, what’s your mother’s middle name?’ Max asked.

The boy stumbled. ‘Gotta go, sick,’ he said. The phone cut off.

Max inhaled deeply and turned to Autumn. ‘Whoever we think we’ve been talking to – it’s not Curtis, and I can almost guarantee that it hasn’t been Kensy either. I’ve suspected all along, but I suppose I didn’t want to believe it.’

‘What?’ Autumn’s eyes widened.

‘He hung up. Since when did Curtis forget his mother’s middle name?’ Max said.

‘So where are they?’ Autumn asked, the concern on her face clear.

‘We need to find Tippie – if anyone can tell us the answer to that, it’ll be her,’ Max said.