‘Any word yet?’ asked Bunsen, glancing anxiously at the clock. It was past nine thirty in London. Exactly twenty-five minutes left until Rodent Rooter’s deadline. Less than half an hour left to foil Operation SMASH.
Julius shook his head in regret. ‘Afraid not, Mr Burner.’
The lab mouse was visibly shaken. The Video Scrambler was still down, and although Sir Edmund had been true to his word, providing frequent updates via email, it wasn’t the same as hearing the latest reports directly from him. The uncertainty was getting to Bunsen. He could hardly bear the thought of his sweetheart trapped in the clutches of not just Roquefort Dupont, but Stilton Piccadilly and this evil Goldwhiskers, as well. There’d been no news yet from Squeak, either. Had she been able to intercept Oz and the SAS? Was the rescue mission under way? The tension was taking its toll on the lab mouse.
‘Is there still hope of rescue?’ he asked.
‘There’s always hope,’ said Julius calmly. ‘Morning Glory Goldenleaf and Bubble Westminster are both highly trained, elite members of the finest espionage agencies in the world. And, don’t forget, Glory’s been in tight spots before and has come through with flying colours.’
Bunsen did not find this reassuring. ‘That stupid riddle!’ he moaned, wringing his pale paws. ‘Why didn’t I run it through AMI? I can’t believe the SAS were sent to the wrong place!’
‘No point kicking ourselves,’ soothed Julius. ‘There’s a chance Squeak may be able to intercept them, and the Royal Guard and the Welsh Rarebit Regiment are being moved out even as we speak. They may still arrive at the London Eye in time.’
‘But what if they don’t?’ cried Bunsen.
‘Then Sir Edmund will begin the evacuation.’
Julius eyed him soberly. ‘You know as well as I do that sometimes sacrifices must be made in this business.’
Bunsen’s milky coat grew even paler. ‘“The noblest motive is the public good,”’ he whispered. The Spy Mice Agency’s motto.
Julius nodded sadly.
‘Is evacuation even possible?’ asked Bunsen.
The elder mouse hesitated. ‘I’m sure they’ll be able to save a portion of the population,’ he replied finally.
Bunsen began to pace back and forth. ‘They have to get there in time! They just have to!’
Julius checked his watch surreptitiously. No point in alarming his colleague any further. He was already wound up far too tight. But Bunsen was right. Time was fast running out – and, with it, all hope of rescue.
