Days Left to Save the Earth: 5
I need to go back to the beginning. Everything is moving so fast I’ve lost track of the clues, which must be why I’m coming to the wrong conclusions. It’s all about those vital moments in the Science Museum.
In search of more information, I hook up the video footage from the police station on my multi-screen computer. It comes from four different cameras:
– THE MALFUNCTIONING ‘INVESTIGATING ALIEN WORLDS’ CAMERA
(showing a brief glimpse of Ms Grimm followed by nothingness)
– THE HAIRSPRAYED ‘MOON ROCK DISPLAY CASE’ CAMERA
(showing fuzzy, hairspray-blurred images)
– THE ENTRANCE TO ‘EXPLORING SPACE’ CAMERA
(showing anyone entering or leaving ‘Exploring Space’ via Reception)
– THE EXIT FROM ‘EXPLORING SPACE’ CAMERA
(showing anyone entering or leaving ‘Exploring Space’ via the ‘Making the Modern World’ gallery)
I play each tape again and again, looking for something I’ve missed. Where was Ms Grimm during those fifteen minutes the camera was off? The footage suggests she disappeared completely, along with the brain ray. But that’s impossible. According to my calculations, she couldn’t have left the gallery without passing in front of one of the functioning cameras.
“We need access to the live feed from the museum’s security cameras,” I tell Holly and Porter when they wander in to watch the footage with me.
“Yeah. That’s going to happen.” Holly snorts. “Maybe they’ll hand out popcorn and soft drinks too, while we watch.”
“I’m guessing that’s a joke? In which case we have to stage a re-enactment.”
“Like Crimewatch?” Porter grins.
“Just like Crimewatch.” I ignore the sniggers and google ‘spy cameras’. “We’ll set up our own camera feeds and figure out what Ms Grimm was doing during the ‘Alien Worlds’ blackout.”
“How?”
“Let me worry about that. You two worry about convincing Uncle Max to take us back to London.”
As we enter the Science Museum, I close my eyes so I can picture the exact directions in which the CCTV cameras were pointing on the police footage. I move Porter into the position of the camera covering the entrance from Reception and hand him one of my new Spy Cam Necklaces.
“This contains a digital video recorder with a built-in USB port for easy downloading. It captures video in AVI format at thirty frames per second—”
“It’s a necklace.” Porter interrupts. “You’re asking me to wear a necklace?”
“Only for half an hour,” I say. “Think of it as a medal rather than a necklace.”
“It’s sparkly and shaped like a turtle.”
“Special offer,” I explain. “Four for the price of two. We needed four cameras.”
“There are only three of us.”
“We’ll improvise,” I say. “Porter, you stand here and cover the entrance. Holly, you head over there so you’re filming the display case.” I angle Holly so she’s facing in the right direction. “I’ll put one of the spare camera necklaces here, in the ‘Investigating Alien Worlds’ section, to represent the camera that blanked out, and the other one here, covering the exit.”
“What about you?” Porter asks.
“I’m going to be your mum.”
“Ugh. Talk about scarred for life.”
“What I mean,” I say with more patience than Porter deserves, “is I’m going to figure out how she escaped. She was standing here when the camera went off.” I assume the position behind the Moon lander. “And she wasn’t standing here when the camera came back on again.”
“How could we have missed her?” Holly asks.
“I’m not surprised you missed her,” I say. “You wouldn’t notice if the Queen marched straight past you. But it is weird Porter didn’t spot his own mother. And I can’t believe I missed her. I’ve been searching my memory for images of that afternoon and she’s not in any of them. It doesn’t make sense. I accept I could have been looking in the wrong direction for a few seconds, but not for over fifteen minutes.” I close my eyes and picture the gallery. I focus all my attention on the images. Where is she? Where was the Grimm Reaper when the Space Rock was stolen?
“I don’t know!” a familiar voice cries. “Stop asking.”
I swivel round to find Museum Curator Gnome doubled over, clutching his head. He’s still wearing the same green suit, and the oniony smell coming from the armpits suggests it’s not because he owns several versions of the same outfit. The suit that was so perfectly pressed nine days ago is now wrinkled and stained and the waistcoat is missing a couple of buttons.
His eyes are bloodshot and his beard contains a collection of breakfast items. At a quick glance I spot a baked bean, a Coco Pop, several raisins, and – wait – is that the tail of a sardine?
“What?” I ask him. “What don’t you know?”
“The Grimm Weeper,” the gnome wails. “I don’t know where she is.”
“Impossible! How did you know . . . ?” I grab Porter by the shoulders. “Did I ask where your mother was out loud?”
“Owww!” Porter rubs his arms. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m sure I didn’t.” I release Porter and prod Museum Curator Gnome. “How do you know we’re looking for her?”
“For whom?”
“The Grimm Reaper. You said you didn’t know where she was.”
“I don’t.”
“But you know who she is?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know we’re looking for her?”
“You told me.”
“No I didn’t.”
Museum Curator Gnome clutches his head. “Then it appears I am losing my rather fine mind. What’s happening to me? Must be sleep deprivation. Such long hours. So many voices.” His eyes roll and he starts shouting. “IT’S THE VOICES! STOP THE VOICES!”
I remember the weird conversations I overheard last time we were at the Science Museum and something clicks.
CLUE 30
Some Science Museum employees can hear what other people are thinking.
I touch his arm to try and calm him down. “I think you’re reading our minds,” I say. “I think it’s a side effect of the pressure the Space Rock is creating in your brain.
“STOP THE . . . ! What?” He pauses mid-rant and stares at me, his eyes clearing slightly. “Mind-reading? That’s ridiculous. Impossible . . . And what’s a Stealth Blanket?”