A. N. T. I. D. O. T. E. by Malorie Blackman Page A

from Shelby and Pardela Pharmaceuticals. The crowd of people marching in the protest seemed to be at least a mile long in itself. Four abreast, people were holding banners and placards railing against Shelby’s. The police who walked alongside were few and far between. They obviously didn’t expect that much trouble. And the faces of the officers I could see looked more cheesed off at having to be there in the first place, than worried or alert. We had a scout about but we could see no sign of Halle and Julian. Nosh was more relieved than anything else.
    ‘Let’s walk a bit faster to the front of the march,’ I suggested. ‘That ANTIDOTE woman I saw on the telly – what was her name? – Sarah Irving, she’s bound to be at the front somewhere.’
    ‘D’you know any of the other heads of ANTIDOTE?’ Nosh asked.
    ‘Only their names. Let’s see … there was Somebody Macmillan – I think his name was Ian. Rohan Adjava – I remember his name ’cause it reminded me of coffee – and my uncle, of course.’
    ‘Never mind. If any of them are here, we’ll find them. Let’s search for Sarah Irving,’ said Nosh.
    We started to make our way through the crowd.
    ‘What happens when we find her?’ I asked, turning my head every which way in the hope of spying her. ‘I mean, she might be the Shelby agent.’
    ‘We’ll just have to be very careful,’ Nosh shrugged.
    Which was a big help! Nosh spotted them first – Halle and her boyfriend. They were halfway down the march, each holding one end of a banner.
    ‘Don’t let them see us,’ Nosh hissed.
    We bent low and skirted the outside of the march, making a run for it once we were past them.
    ‘Phew! That was close,’ said Nosh when we straightened up.
    To be honest, I still didn’t see what all that cloak-and-dagger stuff was about, but I didn’t say anything. After all, Halle was Nosh’s sister, not mine.
    The march reached the Shelby building before we got anywhere near the front.
    ‘I hope we haven’t fought our way to the front for nothing,’ I frowned, still looking around.
    ‘Look!’ Nosh pointed to the huge, wrought-iron Shelby gates.
    A woman and a man, their arms laden down with masses of paper, were arguing with the eight security guards at the gates. Nosh and I scooted past the two policemen at the front of the march who were trying to hold everyone back, and ran up to the gates.
    ‘I told you, all we want to do is deliver this petition,’ the woman said angrily.
    ‘And I told you that you can deliver it to me,’ said the head security guard, who looked just like a Nazi guard out of one of those old-time war films.
    ‘I want to make sure it gets to Marcus Pardela,’ said the woman.
    ‘It will,’ the guard insisted.
    ‘We’re not moving until I deliver this to the main reception.’
    ‘That’s up to you,’ said the guard. ‘I get paid whether you’re here or not. No skin off my nose!’
    The man and woman moved back a bit to talk to each other in private. They didn’t notice Nosh and me listening.
    ‘Sarah, we’re wasting our time. They’re never going to let us pass,’ said the man.
    ‘Ian, I’m not leaving without handing in our petition to the receptionist or someone on the inside of the building. If we give it to that security guard, it’ll get filed under “B”!’
    ‘He won’t put it in the bin. Not if we tell him that we’ll be insisting that Marcus Pardela answer some of the points raised in the document attached to the petition. If we say that then he’ll have no choice but to hand it over.’
    ‘You think so?’ Sarah asked doubtfully.
    ‘It’s worth a try,’ Ian replied.
    ‘Are you Ian Macmillan?’ I asked the man.
    He gave a start, then frowned down at me. ‘Who wants to know?’
    ‘Robert Gaines is my uncle,’ I explained.
    His eyes widened. Immediately the expression on his face changed.
    ‘You must be Elliot,’ he smiled. ‘I’m sorry to be so surly but it’s been a long morning and it