things worse.
“She’s in with Santa Claus, opening the grotto. You’ll have to wait in line if you want her autograph.”
“I don’t want her autograph. I want to save her life!”
But it was no good. I might as well have argued with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (there was a mechanical version next to the cave). I had to stop myself pulling out my hair. I was expecting a gunshot at any moment and here I was trying to reason with an elf. I looked around me, wondering if I could bribe him with a cuddly toy – or if not, hit him with one. That was when I saw Detective Chief Inspector Snape, standing grim-faced with Boyle next to him, the two of them surrounded by Barbie dolls.
“Snape!” I shouted out, and before the security guard could stop me I had run over to the two men.
“What are you doing here, Diamond?” he snapped the moment he saw me.
Boyle curled his lip and looked ugly – which in his case wasn’t very difficult. Once again he lumbered forward and grabbed hold of me.
“Don’t worry, Boyle!” I said. “I haven’t come here to steal your Barbie doll.”
“Then why are you here?” Snape demanded.
“You’ve got to find Minerva,” I began. “She’s in danger.”
“I know she’s in danger,” Snape replied. “Boyle and I are on special duty. We’re looking after her.”
“You don’t understand…”
How could I tell them what I knew? There wasn’t enough time and with all the noise in the place – the children screaming, the music playing, Rudolph singing and all the rest of it – I’d have been hoarse before I got to the end. But just then Minerva appeared, coming out of the grotto with her manager, Jake Hammill, next to her. There was no sign of her husband, but somehow I wasn’t surprised.
I twisted out of Boyle’s grip, and with Tim right behind me I ran over to her. As usual, Minerva was looking drop-dead gorgeous in a slinky, silver number, and despite everything I was glad that I had arrived in time and that she hadn’t, after all, dropped dead. She was holding a present, about the size and shape of a shoe box. Santa must have just given it to her.
She saw me. “You!” she snapped – and unless that’s Greek for Happy Christmas, she wasn’t too pleased to see me.
I stood in front of her, my eyes fixed on the box. I didn’t want to touch it. To be honest, I didn’t want to be anywhere near it. I had a good idea what was inside.
“Did Santa give you that?” I demanded.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Do you know what it is?”
Minerva shrugged. She didn’t really care. She was only here for the publicity. “No,” she said.
“I think it’s a clock,” Tim chimed in.
“Why?”
“Well … I can hear it ticking.”
Snape leant forward and took the box. “What’s all this about?” he demanded.
“Chief Inspector,” I said, and suddenly my mouth was dry. “I’d be very careful with that unless you want to spend this Christmas in six different parts of London all at the same time.”
“What are you talking about?” Hammill demanded.
“There’s probably an oak leaf or two in there and maybe some acorns. But I’ll bet you any money that the rest of it is a bomb.”
Maybe I said the word too loudly. Somehow the crowd caught on to what was happening and suddenly the entire department was filled with hysterical mothers dragging their screaming kids off to the nearest escalator. I ignored them. I just wanted to know if Snape was going to believe me. And to be fair to him, just this once he gave me the benefit of the doubt. Very gently, he lowered the box to the ground, then turned to Boyle. “Have you got a knife?” he asked.
Boyle reached into his pocket and took out first a cut-throat razor, then a bayonet and finally a flick knife. He pressed a button and ten centimetres of ugly steel leapt out to join in the cheerful Christmas atmosphere. Snape took it. Very carefully, he cut a square in the side of the parcel and peeled the cardboard
“She’s in with Santa Claus, opening the grotto. You’ll have to wait in line if you want her autograph.”
“I don’t want her autograph. I want to save her life!”
But it was no good. I might as well have argued with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (there was a mechanical version next to the cave). I had to stop myself pulling out my hair. I was expecting a gunshot at any moment and here I was trying to reason with an elf. I looked around me, wondering if I could bribe him with a cuddly toy – or if not, hit him with one. That was when I saw Detective Chief Inspector Snape, standing grim-faced with Boyle next to him, the two of them surrounded by Barbie dolls.
“Snape!” I shouted out, and before the security guard could stop me I had run over to the two men.
“What are you doing here, Diamond?” he snapped the moment he saw me.
Boyle curled his lip and looked ugly – which in his case wasn’t very difficult. Once again he lumbered forward and grabbed hold of me.
“Don’t worry, Boyle!” I said. “I haven’t come here to steal your Barbie doll.”
“Then why are you here?” Snape demanded.
“You’ve got to find Minerva,” I began. “She’s in danger.”
“I know she’s in danger,” Snape replied. “Boyle and I are on special duty. We’re looking after her.”
“You don’t understand…”
How could I tell them what I knew? There wasn’t enough time and with all the noise in the place – the children screaming, the music playing, Rudolph singing and all the rest of it – I’d have been hoarse before I got to the end. But just then Minerva appeared, coming out of the grotto with her manager, Jake Hammill, next to her. There was no sign of her husband, but somehow I wasn’t surprised.
I twisted out of Boyle’s grip, and with Tim right behind me I ran over to her. As usual, Minerva was looking drop-dead gorgeous in a slinky, silver number, and despite everything I was glad that I had arrived in time and that she hadn’t, after all, dropped dead. She was holding a present, about the size and shape of a shoe box. Santa must have just given it to her.
She saw me. “You!” she snapped – and unless that’s Greek for Happy Christmas, she wasn’t too pleased to see me.
I stood in front of her, my eyes fixed on the box. I didn’t want to touch it. To be honest, I didn’t want to be anywhere near it. I had a good idea what was inside.
“Did Santa give you that?” I demanded.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Do you know what it is?”
Minerva shrugged. She didn’t really care. She was only here for the publicity. “No,” she said.
“I think it’s a clock,” Tim chimed in.
“Why?”
“Well … I can hear it ticking.”
Snape leant forward and took the box. “What’s all this about?” he demanded.
“Chief Inspector,” I said, and suddenly my mouth was dry. “I’d be very careful with that unless you want to spend this Christmas in six different parts of London all at the same time.”
“What are you talking about?” Hammill demanded.
“There’s probably an oak leaf or two in there and maybe some acorns. But I’ll bet you any money that the rest of it is a bomb.”
Maybe I said the word too loudly. Somehow the crowd caught on to what was happening and suddenly the entire department was filled with hysterical mothers dragging their screaming kids off to the nearest escalator. I ignored them. I just wanted to know if Snape was going to believe me. And to be fair to him, just this once he gave me the benefit of the doubt. Very gently, he lowered the box to the ground, then turned to Boyle. “Have you got a knife?” he asked.
Boyle reached into his pocket and took out first a cut-throat razor, then a bayonet and finally a flick knife. He pressed a button and ten centimetres of ugly steel leapt out to join in the cheerful Christmas atmosphere. Snape took it. Very carefully, he cut a square in the side of the parcel and peeled the cardboard
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