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Chapter 21

Kirsty wiped her eyes and threw the tissue on to her bedroom floor. She wasn’t going to cry! No way! This wasn’t over yet. She was going to keep her promise to Grandad. She was so close! The allotment was so nearly hers. Well, it was Katy Jennings’ and that was close enough. She wasn’t going to give up yet. If Mum called Mr Thomas tomorrow then it would all be over. She had to stop Mum from calling the council. That would buy some time at least until the weekend when Ben and Dawn would be around to help.

Could she cut the phone wires? She wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it was what murderers did in the movies to stop their victims calling the police. Kirsty imagined herself dressed in black, climbing up the telegraph pole, a pair of pliers in one hand and an evil laugh in her throat. No, it was no good. She wouldn’t know which wires to cut. She’d probably electrocute herself.

But what about the phone itself though? Could she break that? Hitting it with a hammer would probably do the trick. Mum might guess it was her though. She shouldn’t smash it up; she should disable it. That was the word. As soon as Mum was in bed, the phone was history. Kirsty smiled again, the tears all gone.

‘I’m just calling you so I can look at the phone,’ Kirsty said.

‘What?’ Ben answered.

‘I just need to look at it. What do you think the screw does on the bit you hold?’

‘I dunno. What are you going on about?’

‘I bet it’s important. They don’t put screws in if they’re not important do they?’

‘Kirsty. This is the weirdest phone call I’ve ever had.’

‘Good. I’ll see you tomorrow. We have to talk.’ Kirsty hung up

It was easy to stay awake that night. It was easy to wait for proper, silent and still darkness. At midnight, Kirsty got out of bed slowly, so it wouldn’t creak. She reached for the screwdriver she had hidden under the bed. Got it. She crept out of the room into the dark hall. The James Bond music started in her head – dum di-di dum, dum; dum, di-di dum, dum. She pressed her back to the wall, listening for other secret agents. There was silence, but there was no knowing how many booby traps were laid for her. Each step was careful and precise. She was grateful now for the special stealth catsuit M had given her back at the lab; she would only show up as a strange bit of distortion on the security feeds. Good job too that the screwdriver could shoot tranquiliser darts.

Down the stairs, into the hall. Still total silence. A sliver of light came in through the window in the front door. This was too easy. There should at least have been guard dogs. She reached the phone and lifted the receiver. The burr of the dial tone sounded loud in the hallway. Her heart rate picked up. Enemy forces might be alerted any second. She worked quickly. Soon the screw was out and the phone fell open in her hands. Inside the receiver there was a jumble of wires and two small disks about the size of a fifty pence piece. They looked important. Kirsty was sure the phone wouldn’t work without them. It took just a few seconds for her to pop out the connecting wire and the disks came free. She fitted the phone back together and tightened the screw. Mission accomplished.

She was back in her room in an instant – no alarms sounded, no warning shots were fired. And the phone was out of commission.