CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR

“Eighty Great British pounds!” Noah said for the tenth time. “Eighty! Just for us all to get into this wretched zoo!”

The group walked through the entrance gates and into the central courtyard. “Eighty pounds!” Noah continued. “Just to see some, what…” He consulted the map of the zoo he’d been given at the ticket booth. “Ooh! Butterfly Paradise, that does sound good!”

“Aw, they’ve got penguins!” Harry said, peering over at the map.

“We must see the lions,” Pierre announced.

“OK, so I will concede there are things to see here,” Noah said, “but still, eighty pounds!”

Bambi had a face of thunder. “Who paid?”

“Well, you did, Bambi, very kindly. And I thank you for that kindness. I’ll pay you back.”

“Yeah? How?”

Noah swallowed. “You’ll see. I have ways. I might be running a business now, you’ll see.”

Bambi gave him a withering look. “You might be? That sounds promising.” She looked around the group. “Where the fuck is Eva?”

Noah glanced between Harry, Pierre and Bambi, as though one of them might be Eva “in disguise”. None of them were. “Shit,” Noah said.

“Brilliant, she made a run for it, didn’t she? In the queue whilst I was distracted at the ticket booth and you were moaning about how much it was!” Bambi jabbed Noah in the chest. “I’m not taking any flak for this. She’s your responsibility.”

“She’s eighteen.” Pierre shrugged.

Noah’s eyes nearly popped out. Eighteen?! And they’d paired her with him, a barely sixteen-year-old?! Such an age gap was outrageous. He would be having stern words with Mr Baxter upon his return.

“She’s eighteen?” Bambi said. “Oh well, fuck her, then, she’s on her own.” She rewrapped her pashmina around her shoulders, put a pair of huge sunglasses on, and clapped her hands together. “Right! Any idea where your dad and Eric are going to be meeting this shady contact?”

Noah shrugged. “No idea. We’ll have to split up and do a sweep of the entire zoo. Pierre – head up towards the lions and monkeys. Haz – take the penguins and butterflies; Bambi – do Gorilla Kingdom, then head across to the Snowdon Aviary; I’ll check out Tiger Territory, then do the reptile house and aquarium. If you locate them, send a group text.”

“We get an espresso first?” Pierre suggested.

“No, Pierre! No. Besides, based on the entry price, it’ll cost ten million pounds. Coffee later. Everyone, we need to work fast and leave no stone unturned.” Noah paused dramatically. “They’re due to meet the contact in T-minus twenty minutes.”

Harry grinned. “Mmm – I love it when you talk like that!”

“Haz!” Noah warned.

“Say something else,” Harry said. “Say, ‘Sierra four-five, Sierra four-five from Mike Whisky, over.’”

“No.”

“Go on, Noah, say it!” Pierre said.

“Say it!” Harry insisted.

“Just say it,” Bambi sighed.

“Sierra four-five, Sierra four-five from Mike Whisky, over,” Noah muttered.

“Mmm,” Harry and Pierre said.

“Gahh! Just get on with it!” Noah squealed, striding off towards the tigers.

*

Noah shook his head as he walked along the path through Tiger Territory, which could more accurately be called “area with no animals on it” because the tigers were nowhere to be seen. Eighty pounds! Eighty pounds and no tigers! At these prices, they should be putting on a musical revue…

He rounded the corner and heard the ‘Whooooop! Hooooop!’ sounds from Eric’s phone call.

Gibbons. Noah walked up to the edge of the enclosure, watching the beasts as they swung around and did acrobatics using their ridiculously long arms. Amazing, really. Noah couldn’t even hit a rounders ball – these guys were in a different league, PE-wise.

He felt eyes on his back.

He turned around slowly, because somehow, he knew.

And there he was. About ten metres away, standing at the corner, where the path swung round and down towards the reptile house.

Smirking.

Eric.

And no sooner had Noah seen him, than Eric was gone. Noah hurried after him, scrambling for his phone at the same time, attempting to hammer out a group text whilst trying, in vain, to keep a visual on Eric: Flu eric head to reptile hotel moo.

Seeing a flash of Eric’s black hoodie ahead, Noah upped his pace, quickly weaving between parents with pushchairs and toddlers as he darted down the path, past the kangaroos, and arrived at the entrance to the reptile house.

Noah spun around. The path here split into three. A group of younger teens were gathered by the grass, chatting away in Spanish. Noah scanned them, but Eric was nowhere to be seen. He must be inside the reptile house. There was no sign of the others. Noah checked his watch – five to eleven. He had no choice. This was it. He swallowed and went inside.

Noah stood for a moment while his eyes acclimatized to the dark and his nose grew accustomed to the stench. It was the smell of dirty tricks, and Dad and Eric’s operation reeked.

It was times like this, Noah was glad he had a wide collar on his coat to pop. He gave it a sharp tug, so the pointy bits faced forward. He longed for a fedora. If he had any hope of getting to the bottom of this case, he had to look and think like a pro, like some heroic, hard-boiled detective in a pulp novel.

He took in the scene. Tanks of different sizes lined the walls either side of the walkway, light reflecting off the wet glass, illuminating the underbelly of this filthy city. But Noah wasn’t scared. He was mad. Real mad. So mad he could taste it.

Noah walked silently along the walkway. The place was so deserted it could have been “chocolate three ways” on a menu – brownie, mousse and maybe a cheesecake, or something like that.

The trickle of water from one of the tanks…

The sound of his footsteps…

A short rustle…

Noah shot a glance behind him. There was no one there. Maybe the others were lost. Maybe they were dead. Life was tough like that. Tough as a nickel steak with a side helping of cast iron fries.

Noah tugged his collar up again and popped a Haribo Starmix in his mouth. He could so handle this.

The bulbs in one of the tanks to his right flickered a few times, casting shafts of light across the shadowy passage, then shut off.

He walked slowly on, keeping close to the left-hand side. He hadn’t started this thing, but he was sure as hell going to finish it.

He chewed his Haribo.

Dad and Eric’s scheme was like a cheap bourbon – it made you wince, and Noah was going to put it on ice.

He reached a large tank that stood in the middle of the walkway, forming an island you could walk around.

Noah glanced behind him again, the warm light of the exit glowing in the distance. Had all this been too easy? What if Eric’s “careless” mistakes hasn’t been so careless? What if they were deliberate? What if there was more to this caper than he’d bargained for? One thing was for sure – this was no Sunday school picnic.

“Oh!” Noah gasped, as he turned back and came face-to-face with a forked tongue flicking in and out at him from behind the glass of the tank. It was a snake. And snakes always meant trouble. Noah didn’t like its face. And when he glanced at the sign, he liked it even less:

“Ten-foot king cobra – the world’s longest venomous snake. Subdues its prey with massive quantities of neurotoxic venom.”

And it was then that a hand was placed over his mouth and Noah was dragged backwards.