The Secret of Zanzibar (11 page)

Was he talking about Tibby? Though Keaters had said ‘he', so clearly the black mouse wasn't sure. It was another of the Sourian spy's traps, Alistair realised. He was fishing for information, trying to trick Alistair into telling him something he didn't know. But Alistair was determined that he would not be fooled by Keaters again.

‘Huh?' Alistair tried to sound baffled. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘Another ginger mouse,' Keaters said, pronouncing each word slowly and distinctly.

‘What ginger mouse?' Alistair hoped he appeared bewildered. His mind raced as he tried to work out what Keaters was up to now. What did he want with Alistair? And why was he so keen to find out about another ginger mouse? How long would it be before Tibby grew worried and came looking for him?
Not yet, Tibby
, he begged
silently. He didn't want her to be captured, too – but he had to let her know that he'd been here and that he hadn't disappeared voluntarily. With his left hand he tugged surreptitiously at his scarf until it slithered from around his neck; he let it drop to the ground. With any luck Tibby would see the scarf and guess that he had been caught. He only hoped that she wouldn't come after him. It was more important that she finish the mission – and then escape Souris.

‘Guards!' Keaters barked.

The square echoed with the sound of boots striking cobblestones as red-coated guards rushed from all sides of the square to seize Alistair.

‘Where are you taking me?' Alistair demanded, his voice high and frightened as his arms were wrenched roughly behind his back and his hands were tied together.

‘I'm going to introduce you to someone who's been longing to meet you,' Keaters said. ‘We're going to Grouch. It's time you met Queen Eugenia.'

‘No!' Alistair cried, lashing out with his feet and struggling wildly. For Queen Eugenia, he knew, wanted him dead. ‘No!' Panicked, he twisted in his captors' grasp. If he couldn't break free, certain death awaited him. He fought with all his might, fought for his life. But as he whirled to kick one of the guards in the kneecap, he was rocked by a blow to the back of the head, followed by … nothing.

Daniels gave a final pat to the bigger of the two bells then said, ‘I've some things to be getting on with. Will you two be all right if I leave you here? I'll come back for you at nightfall.'

When Alice and Alex had reassured him that they'd be fine, the old mouse turned and started down the winding stairs. As soon as his footsteps had died away Alice turned to her brother.

‘What contact?' she demanded.

‘Huh?' Alex had moved around to the opposite side of the bell tower and was staring down at the palace grounds speculatively. ‘I wonder if that's Fiercely Jones down there digging in the flowerbeds? He wasn't a bad fellow, old Fiercely. A bit overfond of manure perhaps …'

‘You told Daniels that we had a contact,' Alice persisted, ‘and that we couldn't meet her till nightfall.'

‘Oh, that,' said Alex carelessly. ‘I had to tell him
something, didn't I? It was pretty obvious he wasn't going to take us in, but I thought he might agree to hide us for a short time – and he did, didn't he?'

‘And that's your idea of a great plan, is it? Inventing an imaginary contact?' Alice was so frustrated she thought she might pull her brother's whiskers out. ‘What are we supposed to do when Daniels kicks us out at nightfall, smarty-tail? Oh, I wish we'd never come here!'

‘The bell tower?' said Alex. ‘But aren't you enjoying the view? Look, I think Lester's in the garden with Fiercely Jones – see the black mouse in the white jacket stomping around?'

But Alice wasn't interested in seeing Lester. Lester ran the palace for General Ashwover, who ruled Gerander on Queen Eugenia's behalf, and she'd seen more than enough of both of them when she and Alex had been spies in the palace.

She slid down to sit on the ground beneath the bell. ‘Not the bell tower, Alex,' she said. ‘I mean I wish we'd never come
here
: Cornoliana … Gerander. It's all going wrong. Face it, we're just blundering around here without a plan, without a place to stay, without a contact …' She buried her face in her hands.

Alex sat down beside her. ‘And we don't have much food left,' he said gloomily. ‘At least when we were living at the palace I could steal it from the kitchen, once Cook had left for the night.' He sat up straighter. ‘Cook … she'll help us. She loves us!'

‘Loves us?' Alice snorted. ‘She hated us. She thought we were Sourian brats.'

‘Yeah, but once she found out we were spying for FIG she helped us.'

‘Only because we were working for Zanzibar,' Alice pointed out. ‘It's Zanzibar she loves, not us.'

‘Well, we're still working for Zanzibar,' her brother reasoned. ‘Besides, once she finds out I'm the future king she'll love me too.'

Alice considered the idea. While she wasn't so sure that Cook would embrace Alex as the future king of Gerander (Alice was having trouble with the concept herself), it was true that Cook had been keen to help them escape the palace once she'd found out they were from FIG. She'd even hidden them from Sophia, which was a very brave thing to do. And hadn't Slippers said that they should use contacts like Cook and Fiercely Jones?

‘But how are we going to make contact with Cook?' Alice said aloud. ‘We're not exactly welcome at the palace.'

‘We could wait till she finishes work in the kitchens then follow her home,' Alex suggested. ‘And when she turns down a dark street, we'll pounce.'

‘Pounce?' Alice repeated. ‘Alex, we can't just attack her; we'd scare the daylights out of her. And that's hardly going to put her in a mood to help us.'

‘Have you got a better idea?'

‘No,' Alice conceded. ‘We'll follow her home – but no pouncing, okay? We'll just cough or something to attract
her attention. And Alex –' she looked at her brother sternly ‘–
do not
tell her that you're the future king.'

‘Fine,' said Alex huffily. ‘We'll do it your way then.'

They didn't speak again until the sun had gone down and twilight was fading into dusk.

‘It's almost dark. Daniels will be coming back for us soon,' Alex remarked.

Alice stood up to watch as the lights came on in the darkening streets. From up here, there was no way to tell that the sea of twinkling lights below was a city living under a brutal and repressive occupation. It looked more like a fairy-tale city, she thought, as she moved around the tower to gaze down at the glittering lights of the palace.

Soon they heard the soft pad of footsteps coming up the stairs, and Daniels' face appeared in the doorway, looking strangely ghoulish in the light cast by the candle he held in one hand. ‘Ready?' he said.

They followed him down the stairs, round and round till Alice felt quite dizzy. She kept one hand on the rough stone wall to her left and her eyes fixed on the candle bobbing a few steps below. When they finally reached level ground she swayed for a moment, disoriented.

‘All right there?' asked Daniels.

Alice nodded once, then picked up her rucksack from where they'd left them and slipped it over her shoulders.

‘Okay, just wait here while I check the coast is clear.' The old mouse left the candle on a nearby pew and opened the door a crack. It moved silently on its
hinges; he must keep them well oiled, Alice noted.

Without turning, he gestured with his arm for Alice and Alex to approach. ‘All quiet,' he said in a low voice.

‘Thanks for hiding us,' Alice whispered.

‘See you a week from Friday,' Daniels replied. ‘At the protest.'

And then Alice and Alex were slipping through the door, which closed soundlessly behind them. Something was troubling Alice about the old mouse, something he'd said, but as they edged along the side of the building to the main square at the front of the cathedral, she soon forgot her unease.

‘Which way is the palace?' Alex murmured as they gazed apprehensively around the nearly deserted square.

‘I think it's that way,' Alice said, pointing up a grand boulevard lined with shops and cafes. ‘I'm pretty sure we walked up there last time.'

They hurried across the square with their heads down until they stood at the corner of the street.

‘But there's no way we can walk down there without being spotted. Look at all those Queen's Guards.' In the pools of light cast by the streetlamps they could see small clutches of red-coated soldiers, and many of the outdoor tables at the restaurants were similarly occupied. ‘There's bound to be someone there who'd recognise us from the palace.'

‘Too risky,' Alex agreed. ‘We'll have to try the back streets.' He led the way down an alley running off the
main avenue, then turned into a narrow street which ran parallel. The streetlamps were more widely spaced on this street, meaning those few mice they did pass were little more than dark shapes. Alice hoped she and Alex were similarly indistinguishable. Besides, none of the mice striding quickly down this back street wore red jackets, Alice observed. She wondered if, like she and her brother, they were keen to avoid encountering the Queen's Guards.

Every now and then they'd cross a side street that led back up to the boulevard and the sound of animated conversations would drift down to them, sometimes accompanied by the clink of cutlery.

‘I'm so hungry,' Alex moaned as a waft of frying onions made their noses quiver.

‘Alex, stop.'

‘I can't help it,' said Alex. ‘We haven't eaten since –'

‘I didn't mean stop your moaning,' Alice said impatiently. ‘Though I wish you would. I meant stop walking.'

Alex did.

‘Look,' Alice said, taking him by the shoulders and turning him around to face up the side street. ‘That's the bridge we crossed to get to the palace last time. It leads into that big square in front of the palace gates.'

Alex nodded in recognition. ‘I remember. But if we cross we'll be in full view of the guards by the gate.' He kicked at a loose stone, thinking. ‘But Cook will
have to cross it to get home,' he said slowly. ‘There weren't any houses on the other side of the river, only the palace.'

‘Why don't we walk a bit further up this street to get a better view?' Alice suggested. ‘Not too close to the main road, though.'

‘There's a doorway up ahead,' Alex said, pointing. ‘We can wait there, out of sight.'

They went and stood in the doorway, watching the bridge, but apart from the odd Queen's Guard no one came or went.

‘Alex,' Alice began, leaning back against the door, her eyes fixed on the bridge, ‘when we left the cathedral, Daniels said he'd see us at the protest a week from Friday.'

‘Yeah, I noticed that,' said Alex. ‘Good, isn't it? We've already got the farmer and his son, the matron – that's three – and if she brings the orphans …' He started counting on his fingers.

‘Yes, but, Alex, did you tell him when the protest was on? I didn't.'

‘No,' said Alex slowly. ‘I didn't either.'

‘In fact,' Alice remembered, ‘he already knew all about the protest before we mentioned it.'

‘But how could he have?'

Alice shook her head. ‘That's just it. I don't know. But he said something about a revolution, didn't he? What was it?' She tried to recall the old mouse's exact words. ‘He said:
We're planning a revolution designed to rid
Gerander of the Sourians forever
. Who did he mean by “we”, I wonder?'

They pondered this for several minutes, then Alex said, ‘Hang on, didn't Slippers Pink say something about there being others here too? She must have meant other FIG members, mustn't she?'

Alice felt a lightening in her chest as Alex reminded her of the words of FIG's chief of operations. ‘You're right,' she said excitedly. ‘I'd forgotten. So we're not the only ones. It's not all up to us.' She felt a wave of relief wash over her at the realisation that they were not responsible for single-handedly organising the protest. In her shock at the way Solomon Honker had abruptly abandoned them, their mission had started to seem overwhelming, but now she realised that their mission was just one among many. They'd seen a hall full of FIG members at the meeting back in Stetson before their first mission to Gerander; now all of those mice would be helping to organise the protest, all with different parts to play. ‘Slippers wanted us to spread the word among ordinary mice, particularly kids.' It was all coming back to her now.

‘That's exactly what we've been doing,' said Alex.

‘If we're telling the ordinary mice, I wonder who the
extraordinary
mice are,' Alice mused.

‘Daniels must be one, since he already knew.'

They subsided into silence, staring at the bridge over which Cook must surely come soon.

But the hours crept by. The avenue ahead of them gradually emptied, until the only mice left on the wide boulevard were the occasional pairs of red-coated guards patrolling up and down, and then they too seemed to disappear.

Alice shivered as a bank of clouds drifted across the sky to cover the moon and a chill crept along the cobblestones from the nearby river to swirl around their feet.

‘Surely she must have finished work by now,' Alex muttered.

‘What if she was sick and didn't go in to work today?' Alice suggested. ‘Or what if she doesn't work there any more? Maybe Lester found out that she helped us! Maybe – mmph.'

Alex had clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘Shh,' he hissed. ‘Here she comes.'

Sure enough, the stout figure of Cook was coming through the palace gates. She wasn't wearing her apron, but she wore a scarf on her head and carried a large wicker basket in one hand. Perhaps she was taking home food for her family, Alice thought, remembering how the cook had spoken bitterly of feeding her grandchildren on the Sourians' leftovers.

She walked rapidly down the deserted avenue in the direction of the cathedral, her long fur stirring slightly in the breeze coming up from the river. When she passed the side street in which Alice and Alex were hiding, Alex said in Alice's ear, ‘Let's follow her.'

The two young mice reached the corner of the street in time to see her pass under a streetlamp, the light reflecting off her shiny, tea-coloured fur. Alice's heart almost stopped as two dark shapes sprang from the shadows to confront the cook. It was a pair of Queen's Guards.

‘Halt!' snapped one.

‘Who goes there?' snapped the other.

‘I'm the palace cook,' Cook told them, her voice nervous.

‘Why are you out after curfew?' demanded the first guard.

‘There are guests at the palace,' Cook explained. ‘I had to work late.'

Guests? What kind of guests? Alice wondered. She inhaled sharply, remembering that there had been guests at the palace the last time she and Alex were there: Horace and Sophia.

‘Show us your papers,' the second guard demanded.

With a sigh, Cook put down her basket and bent to rummage through it. ‘Here,' she said, when she had unearthed a document.

The guards scanned it without comment then handed it back to her. ‘Next time you're out after curfew, be sure to have a pass.'

They waved her on and melted back into the shadows.

Alice whispered, ‘How are we going to get past the guards?'

‘We'll have to use back streets again and hope we don't lose her.'

It sounded like a risky plan to Alice – if they lost sight of Cook, then what? Where would they stay? Of course, she realised, she shouldn't count on Cook helping them.

They retraced their steps down the narrow street that ran parallel to the main avenue, occasionally hearing the firm tread of Cook's feet on the cobblestones and seeing her stout form moving briskly as she crossed the side streets.

When they had almost reached the cathedral, she turned into one of the side streets and came towards them. Alex held out a restraining hand to still Alice until the cook had almost reached them, before stepping out to meet her.