Peregrine still didn’t look very happy when he landed the cargo plane outside the National Primate Gallery. His huge moustache twitched in agitation as he watched Tammy and Curly open the plane’s cargo doors and wheel out a large crate into the car park.
Pete joined the Wing Commander. ‘Thanks for doing this, Peregrine,’ he said quietly.
Peregrine glared. ‘As far as the Pig Island government knows, I have followed orders and delivered the statue. Only Lola and I know about this little plan of yours. If it doesn’t work, you know what will happen? Our whole agency will be for the chop!’
Pete just grinned. ‘Trust me, Wing Commander!’ He followed the crate as the others pushed it inside. ‘Have a safe flight home,’ he called over his shoulder.
As Peregrine climbed back into the cargo plane, he nibbled nervously on a chocolate biccie. Meanwhile, the rest of the PiPs wheeled the crate to one of the museum’s store rooms and Tammy set about opening it with a crowbar. Curly waited, ready to see the famous piggy sculpture. He was a bit surprised to see nothing inside the crate but a big bucket and several packets of dry powder.
‘There’s no sculpture,’ Brian said, sounding confused. ‘What’s going on?’
‘We’re the Pigs in Planes,’ Pete answered proudly. ‘No one makes monkeys of us! That’s why I asked Peregrine to keep the real sculpture at Snout Island.’
Brian went pale. ‘Er … so we’ve disobeyed a direct PIAF order?’
‘Yup!’ said Pete. ‘Because if those thieves think the statue’s here, I know they’ll try to steal it. And when they do, there’ll be a big surprise waiting for them!’ He put a trotter on Curly’s shoulder. ‘The stuff in those packets is plaster. You and I, young Curly, are going to be living sculptures. We’ll BE the statue they try to steal!’
Curly’s eyes were big. ‘What will I have to do?’
Pete smiled. ‘Absolutely nothing.’
The trainee PiP nodded eagerly. ‘I can do that!’
The team got to work. Tammy was in charge of mixing up the plaster in the gigantic bucket. Brian had given her exact measurements to make it the right thickness.
‘The trick is getting it hard enough for them to seem like statues,’ he explained, ‘but soft enough for them to break free.’
Meanwhile Brian’s job was to arrange Pete and Curly into the right pose. Curly had already changed into a toga.
‘What about my costume?’ asked Pete.
‘Oops, sorry!’ said Brian. He handed the captain a pair of fake wings, along with a small quiver of arrows. ‘Put these on.’
‘That’s not the whole costume, is it?’
‘No, of course not!’ chuckled Brian. ‘Here – wear this headband too.’
Pete shrugged – he wasn’t a shy pig. Moments later he had unzipped his flightsuit and stood ready and waiting in his bright red Speedio trunks.
Tammy was still stirring the plaster mix with a stick.
‘Have you put on a bit of weight, Pete?’ she asked.
‘I have,’ beamed Pete happily. ‘Thanks for noticing.’
Tammy paused, trying to remember how many scoops of plaster she still needed to put in – was it four or five? She shrugged and put six in. Then she put two more in for good luck.
Meanwhile Pete had the wings on, and now he balanced on one trotter and held the bow and arrow out in an exact copy of the god in Earos and Porcus.
‘Stay still while we get this on you,’ instructed Brian, as he slapped wet plaster on to the captain.
As the plaster covered more and more of his body, Pete could feel it drying and hardening. Soon it was no effort to keep his body in position because the plaster held him in place. Brian covered the captain’s face last of all, taking care to leave eyeholes and breathing holes for the mouth and nose.
‘That looks brilliant – just like a real statue!’ said Tammy.
Brian began to apply plaster to Curly, who had assumed his statue’s pose, arching his back in shock and gripping one side of his bum, which had an arrow poking out of it.
Tammy pointed at it. ‘What a cheek!’ she said, laughing. She realized that she’d lost count of the number of scoops again. With a shrug, she emptied the rest of the packet into the water.
At last, Brian was done. He stepped back and looked at his work. He nodded with satisfaction – the two pigs looked just like the famous sculpture. Pete was standing on one leg and holding his bow in one outstretched arm.
‘Are you sure we’ll be able to break out of this plaster?’ asked Pete in a muffled voice. ‘It feels pretty solid to me.’
‘You’ll have no problem,’ replied Brian. ‘I checked the measurements I gave Tammy twice! Now we just have to get you to the Special Exhibition Hall. And then we wait …’
It was dark by the time Tammy and Brian had positioned the new sculpture in the Special Exhibition Hall. Pedalbin had agreed that the pigs could take care of the security themselves. The baboon guards would keep away from this part of the museum.
‘There’s a guards’ room with a CCTV link direct to this hall,’ said Tammy. ‘We’ll wait in there and watch everything.’
She and Brian trotted off, leaving the two ‘statues’ in the silence of the dark gallery. It wasn’t long before Curly broke the silence:
‘I’ve got an itchy snout,’ he whispered.
Time passed, and then Curly whispered again:
‘I think I need a wee.’
More time passed, then the trainee whispered again:
‘Yes, I definitely need a wee.’
‘Actually I’m hungry. I fancy some popcorn.’
Even more time passed. Curly whispered:
‘I’m bored. How long have we been here anyway?’
Pete was facing the clock on the wall. ‘Three and a half minutes,’ he said, and he thought to himself, This is going to be a long, long night.