‘Any sign of them?’ asked Squeak, hopping down off her pigeon’s back.
‘Not so much as a paw print,’ a Royal Guard replied. ‘A team of commandos just reported in, though – the office next door at 80 Strand is empty. Seems Goldwhiskers had a lair hidden in the attic above. It was empty too. They’re definitely on the move.’
Squeak peered over the edge of the Savoy’s rooftop. She looked down the side of the hotel building to the street. She scanned the sky in all directions. ‘And you’re sure this is where they’re heading?’ she said doubtfully.
The guard shrugged. ‘I’m just following orders. I hear there was some sort of a clue, or riddle. One of the whiz-whiskers down at MICE-6 decoded it and sent us here.’
Squeak’s ears perked up at this. ‘Clue? What clue?’
‘Didn’t they fill you in?’
Squeak shook her head. ‘We’ve been on kind of a tight schedule,’ she said. She pressed the button on the transmitter clipped to her fur. ‘Agent Savoy checking in.’
‘Ah, there you are, Squeak!’ Sir Edmund replied. ‘Ozymandias is on his way?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Squeak responded. ‘I understand there’s something about a clue?’
‘That’s right. This Goldwhiskers, as he likes to call himself, is toying with us.’ Her boss sounded annoyed. Squeak heard a rustling of paper and Sir Edmund continued, ‘He said, and I quote, “I’m going to take all these double-crossing, disobedient, disloyal mice on an outing tonight. A little Christmas Eve treat in London. Won’t that be fun?” Then he finished with this riddle:
‘Up on the rooftop the rodents pause,
Lots of mouselings in their claws.
Off for an evening of games and fun –
We’ll come full circle when the night is done.
Round and round we’ll go, then WHEE!
I’ll be the last thing they ever SEE!’
‘That’s it?’ said Squeak.
‘That’s all of it.’
Squeak was quiet for a moment. She gazed out across the Thames. It was a beautiful Christmas Eve, clear and cold. The sky was already alight with stars, and a full moon was rising. It was difficult to imagine that in just a couple of hours, unless they were able to stop it, the city would be under attack.
‘“Round and round we’ll go,”’ she mused. Her gaze came to rest on the enormous Ferris wheel downriver from the hotel. ‘Oh, no,’ she whispered. ‘“Whee”? Sir!’
‘Yes?’ Sir Edmund replied.
‘Goldwhiskers wasn’t talking about the Savoy at all!’ cried Squeak, leaping back on to her pigeon. ‘He’s heading for the London Eye! I’ve got to try and do something – we’ve given Oz the wrong coordinates for the SAS!’
