‘No!’

‘Please, Kirra, it’s really important,’ pleaded Ivy.

Mr Meier had barely listened to them before throwing them out of his office, furious that they’d left the centre. He’d even threatened to put them onto the Mist Finder immediately and make them wait onboard until it was time to leave. So, here they were, trying to convince someone else.

Bernie watched as Monster Island’s tech specialist turned to face Ivy, hands on her hips. Her expression was a mixture of amusement, annoyance and determination. Bernie immediately knew the conversation was useless. This woman had made up her mind and was not about to change it. More than that – she looked like she was enjoying the effect she was having on Ivy.

‘So, you finally used the word please. Congratulations!’ Her voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘As a strategy for next time, I’d suggest leading with that rather than trying to make demands.’

Ivy was about to protest, but the woman raised a hand to stop her, bracelets jangling. ‘I am not lending you a drone. Mr Meier has cancelled your access privileges and I’m not about to go against his orders on this, given that he’s MY BOSS.’

The usually bustling Hub had gone silent.

Ivy tried to speak, but again, a quickly raised hand stopped her. ‘And as far as you’re concerned I’m Ms Evans, not Kirra. Got that, Ivy?’

‘But Ms Evans,’ Bernie interrupted. ‘There’s been a potential security breach.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Evans, pointing at him. ‘And I do believe that you are it.’

‘Unmarked drones!’ shouted Ivy. All eyes in the Hub now stared at them. Ivy lowered her voice. ‘The island has been infiltrated by drones.’

Evans eyed Ivy, obviously weighing things up. ‘And you have proof?’

‘Ah . . . no,’ admitted Ivy. ‘That’s why we need to borrow a drone. To get proof.’

‘I’ll let you use a drone.’ Evans nodded slowly. ‘When . . .’ She dug her hands into the pockets of her black cargo pants. ‘. . . you bring me authorisation from your father.’ She turned on the heel of her red high-top sneakers, and strode from the Hub.

Bernie allowed his eyes to wander around the room as Ivy groaned. The people who worked there started to resume their own conversations. A couple of them gave Ivy pitying glances.

‘Hmmm. That went well,’ said Doctor Tanaka, as he and Professor Bolete approached.

Ivy answered with a scowl. Bernie noted that she did that a lot.

‘What’s this about intruder drones and breached security?’ asked Doctor Tanaka, cautiously.

‘Yes,’ chimed in Bolete. ‘We couldn’t help but overhear your rather public discussion with Mademoiselle Evans.’

‘We saw a couple of unmarked drones,’ explained Ivy.

‘You must be mistaken,’ said Tanaka.

‘Yes, yes,’ agreed Bolete, blinking rapidly. ‘Mistaken. Probably just one of our drones on an unscheduled flight.’

‘It was two drones and neither had a MeierCorp logo,’ insisted Ivy. ‘And we all know how my dad loves that logo.’

‘Perhaps they were new drones that haven’t had a logo put on them yet,’ suggested Tanaka.

‘We didn’t just see them,’ added Bernie. ‘One of them chased us.’

‘Oh,’ exclaimed Tanaka. ‘But you got away.’

‘Ivy zapped it!’ said Bernie.

‘She did what?’ sputtered Bolete. ‘How?’

‘The electrical field at the hide,’ said Ivy.

‘So where is it now?’ asked Tanaka.

‘The second drone came and took it away,’ said Ivy. ‘And no one believes us. And no one will help us.’ She looked appealingly at Doctor Tanaka.

‘Oh, um . . . well,’ he mumbled. ‘There’s really nothing I can do. Mr Meier is already unhappy with me and . . . and . . .’ His voice faded off as he looked away, using his right hand to straighten out the glove on his left. Again, Bernie wondered why he wore one black glove. Did he have eczema or something? Maybe a scar? But now wasn’t the time to ask.

‘It is impossible,’ insisted Bolete. ‘Overactive imaginations. You are children, of course, so it is understandable.’

‘Come on.’ Bernie saw Ivy clench her fists as she turned away from the two scientists and headed for the door. He followed.

‘The way he talks down to us.’ Ivy’s whispered voice was seething. ‘He makes me so mad.’

They ended up in the cafeteria in time for morning tea. Bernie piled his plate high with scones, tarts and other little cakey things. Ivy got herself a cup of tea.

‘Do you ever stop eating?’ snapped Ivy.

Bernie shoved half a scone into his mouth and shrugged.

‘Using a drone would have been the quickest way to search for intruders.’ Ivy’s face was stony. ‘And without proof of what happened to us, Dad won’t let us use them.’ Her face clouded over even more, sadness creeping into her eyes. ‘He never believes me.’

‘Proof,’ whispered Bernie, his mind running through the drone encounter. He pictured the first drone getting zapped, then lying broken on the grass. ‘Would a piece of the intruder drone be good enough?’

‘That’d be great!’ said Ivy. ‘But that second drone took the first one away.’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Bernie. ‘But didn’t one of its propellers break off?’

‘Did it?’ A look of concentration passed over Ivy’s face.

‘I’m sure it did,’ said Bernie. ‘When I looked at it lying on the grass next to the toadstools, I noticed that one of its propellers had snapped off. Probably in the fall.’

Ivy’s arm shot out, her finger pointed directly at Bernie’s face. ‘You are brilliant, Bee-Bee!’