Chapter Nine

The Sowing Unravels

By Melinda Szymanik

The door shut behind them with a definitive click. Mote rubbed at his eyes, but now they were all inside the well lit security office there was no mistaking the identity of the person with the pistol.

“You,” he squeaked.

“Is that a polar bear…costume?” Deb gasped.

“Yes it is and it stinks of red herring,” Bizet Finnegan said. “And I’m jolly annoyed that your father shot me with a tranquilizer dart.” She massaged an angry looking puncture wound on her forehead.

“Bizzy?” Mendelssohn said coming up behind Mote and Deb. “What are you doing here? And who’s minding the farm? And what’s that on your forehead?”

“Kate! So good to see you here.” Bizzy waved at Captain Pejalmer who stood just behind Mendelssohn with a very grumpy expression on her face.  “And Mendelssohn, in answer to your question - you shot me, darling. Don’t worry. I’ve locked up at the farm. Fred and Trev are down at the cow cockies cottage watching over everything. And I’m here because I had a phone call saying things were getting out of hand and you needed my help...And what’s with these straw guards? That’s terribly dangerous with so many fireworks going off all the time around here. They’re highly flammable you know.”

As if her words were sparks, the smell of smoke began drifting in through the air conditioning ducts.

“It’s a bit warm in here,” Bizzy said, pulling at the neck of the polar bear suit.

“Mum, why have you got a gun?” Deb said.

“What this old thing?” Bizzy waggled the pistol around haphazardly. “I couldn’t find my semi-automatic so I had to bring this instead. Don’t worry. It’s not a real gun.”

“I think we’re on fire,” Mendelssohn shrieked.

“Oh darling, yes we are a great couple,” Bizet Finnegan purred.

“No Bizzy! The building’s on fire. Someone’s trying to burn us alive,” Mendelssohn cried pointing at the window. They could all see long tongues of flame leaping up outside, even one storey up. Mendelssohn yanked on the door handle but it seemed to be locked.

“Well that makes a mockery of the idea of a fire exit, don’t you think?” Bizzy said.

Deb rushed over to the fire alarm and breaking the glass, reached in and flicked the switch. An ominous click was followed by an even more ominous silence. She glanced over at the bracket on the wall where the fire extinguisher should be but the bracket was empty.

“The hose,” Mote called. He ran out into the corridor and walked back in seconds later holding the fire hose nozzle in his hands, the hose itself just a few wisps of shredded rubber hanging off the nozzle. Bizzy started fanning herself with a manila folder she’d grabbed off the top of a filing cabinet.

“Sabotage” Mendelssohn said bleakly. “Kate you were right. I should have used the security company you suggested. You get what you pay for.”

“More like you reap what you sow,” Deb said drily.

“What are we going to do?” Mote said.

“We’re all going to die,” Kate Pejalmer said. “Because you were too cheap to hire proper security guards.”

Mendelssohn hung his head.

“Don’t talk to my dad like that,” Mote said. “You stay away from him.”

“Not to worry,” Bizzy said, extracting a cell phone from the pocket of her bear suit. She flipped it open and stabbed at the keypad.

“Fred, I need you and Trev to scramble the Blue Angels,” Bizzy barked into the phone. “Full payload. Get them good and soaked pronto and let them out over the the north corner of the Main Stadium....”

The flip phone squawked back at Bizzy.

“Yes. All seventy. At the same time,” she replied. “Use the special net parachute.” 

Bizzy closed her phone and turned back to her family, and Kate Pejalmer. “Right. They’re on their way.”

“What are the Blue Angels?” Mote asked.

“Just some sheep I bred specially. Their wool is blue. And fire retardant. You’ll see...Anyway, so what’s all this about then?”

Deb pulled the notes out of her pocket. All the clues and red herrings. She checked they were all there and handed them to her mother.

“Someone’s been trying to kill us,” Deb said. “And sabotage the Titanic Games. You know Mum, for a minute when I saw you in the polar bear suit holding a gun, I thought it was you.”

“Me? I’m just a sheep breeder,” Bizzy said.

“And a part time ninja,” Mendelssohn muttered.

“Well yes, true,” Bizzy said smiling. “But it’s the genetic engineering that takes up most of my time.”

“Did you say genetic engineering?” Deb asked.

“Of course honey. But it’s all a bit top secret. And I do it under the name I had before I married your father – Bizet Wolf.”

Deb turned and stared at Mote. “It all makes sense.” She grabbed the scraps of paper back.  “What was the first message, shorn into the sheep?”

Mote frowned. “Um ‘To protect the sheep, you um... have to catch the wolf?”

“That’s right,” Mendelssohn gasped.

“Here, look,” Deb held out one of the clues. She read it out. “It takes a wolf to catch a wolf. And then there was the jar of wolf spiders. And then there was this, A sheep for a sheep, A scrambled surprise, Is an egg just an egg, Or GrenadE in disguise. They didn’t mean like a chicken’s egg at all. And the G and E are capitals because it’s all about genetic engineering.”

Without warning Kate Pejalmer lunged at Bizet.

“Oww,” Bizet cried.

“That’s right, little miss clever clogs,” Captain Pejalmer now stood with her back to the fire exit, Bizet Finnegan’s gun in her hand, pointed at the Finnegan family. “Genetic engineering is wrong! These stupid games are wrong. Blindfolded cake-decorating? Belly flopping? Floss flicking? Are you kidding me? Actually, no, I get the floss flicking. That stuff is always getting caught in my teeth...Anyway. I’ve always disapproved of what you do, Bizet. Genetic engineering isn’t natural. And the last straw was when your husband wouldn’t see sense and hire my security company to cover the games. Even the members of my spy team, Le Zard, Byrd and Barker, all victims of Wolf Laboratory engineering, were a huge clue and you couldn’t see it. When I’ve disposed of you lot I’m going to set fire to all those carefully placed scarecrows and these games will be a full-fledged disaster. Games over.” She cocked the gun and aimed at Bizet. “You first,” she hissed.

Suddenly the fire exit flew open and a soaking-wet, blue woolled sheep wearing a crash helmet rolled in the doorway and into the back of Captain Pejalmer like a bowling ball hitting the last skittle in a bowling alley. As Pejalmer fell her finger grasped the trigger and a shot rang out, a trickle of water dribbling from the end of the barrel.

“It’s my water pistol,” Bizzy said, picking it up off the floor as she prodded the unconscious captain with the toe of her shoe. “I did say it wasn’t real. You villains never listen. Well at least the fire’s out. And I’m really surprised you didn’t figure this out sooner Mendelssohn. Something … or someone must have been distracting you.”

Mendelssohn looked a little sheepish.

The End

Chapter Six

Exploding Eggs

By Elena de Roo

Deb swam to the far side of the pool where she'd seen her father, the polar bear and Captain Pejalmer disappear. Vicious or not, she hoped the stunned polar bear was awake enough to know it should hold its breath underwater. She trod water and turned to see how far behind her brother was. Only minutes before he'd been swimming right on her heels, but now, the pool was empty.

"Mote! Mote! MOTE!!!! Where are you! If you're playing a trick on me, I'll, I'll ..."

Bubbles floated to the surface an arm's length away. So, that was it. Typical Mote. Showing off again. He must have swum down ahead of her to find the underground entrance. She didn't want to contemplate the other option. Either way, there was no time to waste.

Making sure the lid was screwed on tightly, Deb buttoned the spiders into the leg pocket of her cargo pants, took a few deep breaths and dived down. Under the water, it was quiet. There was only the distant hum of the pump. No more bubbles followed. Far below, she could see a grate lying crookedly at the bottom of the pool. It looked a long way down. She was relieved when the entrance turned out to be only a few metres away from her, in the pool wall.

It took more courage than she had thought to swim into the tunnel mouth, even though it was easily wide enough for a person, a polar bear even. Could she make it in one breath? It helped that she could already see light from the other end, and to know Mote and her father had done it before her. One stroke ... two strokes ... she pushed the water behind her ... three strokes ... she was through. She kicked upwards, lungs bursting and swam towards the light.

Deb grabbed the metal ladder, allowing herself some time to gasp in air, before hauling herself up the steps and over the side. She wiped the water out of her eyes. No sign of Mote, her father or Captain Pejalmer. She was standing at the junction of three dimly lit underground tunnels.

"Mote! Mote!" Deb's voice echoed down the tunnel, but there was no answer. Then she heaved a sigh of relief. She'd spotted several sets of wet footsteps leading into the tunnel directly in front of her. One set was about Mote's size. There were some animal prints as well, bear prints, which went down the tunnel to her left. The polar bear must have recovered and broken free. She shivered. She wouldn't be going down that tunnel.

The air was damp and her clothes dripping, but with no towel, the best she could do was to squeeze the water out of the ends of her pants. She took the jar of spiders out of her pocket, where it had been banging annoyingly against her shin. The wolf spiders seemed unbothered by their journey and were busily crawling over a small roll of paper. Another message? Why hadn't she noticed it before? Maybe it had been wedged under the lid and come loose during the swim.

There was no way she was putting her hand into a jar full of spiders. Deb unscrewed the top, watching as the spiders scuttled for cover in the dark crevices and corners of the tunnel, before extracting the roll of paper. There was just enough light to make out the words written inside.

A sheep for a sheep

A scrambled surprise

Is an egg just an egg

or GrenadE in disguise?

She wished now she'd asked her father more about his past. Like, why he had an old lab coat hanging in his wardrobe? Then, maybe she'd have some idea what that whole Katie-Kat thing was about. Or why her father thought everything was his fault? One thing was clear though. With the words egg and grenade in the same sentence, this threat had egg throwing event all over it.

Deb pulled the games guide from her top pocket and prised apart the wet pages. She checked her watch. The egg throwing would be starting any moment now in the main stadium. If she was quick she could warn them, stop the event. Her intuition told her the tunnel straight ahead should take her in the right direction. It was also the direction the trail of footsteps was leading, and since no one had come back that way yet, Deb reasoned, there must be another exit.

She was right. The tunnel sloped gradually upwards, ending in a solid looking metal door. She tried the handle. It wasn't locked. No wonder bad things were happening if security was this slack. Deb opened it a crack and saw the dark outlines of mops and buckets. The tunnel ended in a cleaner's cupboard.

There was no time for mucking around. Even as the door clicked shut behind her, she already had her next step sussed. A crack of light was coming from under a door on the opposite wall. On the other side, she could hear the hum of people and muffled bursts of applause.

A few seconds later Deb emerged into a side corridor next to the ladies' toilets in the main stadium. She shouldn't have complained, it was working in her favour that nobody seemed to lock anything around here. Everything was going to plan. Except for the fact she didn't actually have a plan.

Deb raced into the packed arena. She'd cut it finer than she'd thought. The egg timer was already counting down. Only sixty seconds to go. The two teams, The Gold Yolks and The Black Scramblers, were already lined up on opposite sides of the arena. Each team stood with slingshots at the ready, about to launch a barrage of eggs - yolks appropriately dyed team colours - at their opponents, just as soon as the timer sounded.

It was down to her. Thirty seconds left. Somehow she needed to stop the event without causing mass panic. But what if she'd got it all wrong? Then Debussy saw something which was both wonderful and terrible at the same time. It was Mote. He was in the front row of spectators, wet hair plastered behind his ears ... and about as close as you could get to the Gold Yolk's line of fire. Not only that, but Priscilla Byrd was sitting right next to him, her beady hen-like eyes darting from left to right.

Okay, now it was personal. She'd been wrong about the mass panic. Mass panic was exactly what this situation called for.

*********************************************************************************

Now it's your turn to write Chapter 7. Another major turn in the story should up the stakes for the kids and put them in immediate danger. They may find out the truth behind the villain's plans for the games, and it is a diabolically clever and evil twist that no one saw coming.

Chapter Five

THREATENED AND ENDANGERED 

By Johanna Knox

Priscilla Byrd flew in and – with a vigour unusual in one so close to retirement – jumped in front of the bear and pointed a handgun.

Inspector Barker bounded in next, taking up a similar stance several metres away.

Last came Inspector Le Zard, hefting an assault rifle to firing position.

‘Where’s Captain Pejalmer?’ whispered Mote to Deb.

His sister didn't take her eyes off the scene below. ‘Sh!’

The polar bear continued devouring the desk, glancing now and then at the three humans waving interesting black things at it. Wood splinters stuck to its chin, mixing with the blood like a strange beard.

‘Ready …’ called Byrd.

 ‘Aim …’ growled Barker.                 

‘STOP!’ came a voice. Mendelssohn rushed in, toting the biggest gun of all. ‘You don’t kill a polar bear!’

Inspector Le Zard regarded him unblinking. ‘Well, what would you suggest, Monsieur?’

Mendelssohn lifted his gun, fixed the bear in his sights, and fired. A dart struck the forehead of the bear who promptly went cross-eyed and toppled backwards.

 ‘Stun it,’ said Mendelssohn with satisfaction. ‘Now, we have to think how to get it out and … where’s Pejalmer?’

‘Exactly,’ whispered Mote, squirming to try and get more comfortable on the ventilation tube.

Below him, Barker, Byrd, and Le Zard looked around uneasily, then all three froze, staring at the entrance.

A slim woman in a trenchcoat stumbled in –- Captain Pejalmer. She stopped, swayed, groaned, and collapsed. A bear-sized claw mark on her neck gushed blood.

 ‘Katie!’ gasped Mendelssohn. He ran to her and dropped to his knees.

 ‘Katie?’ whispered Mote. ‘Dad calls her Katie?’

‘Just shush!’ said Deb.

Their father put his head to the Captain’s chest. ‘She’s still breathing!’ He gazed into her face, pushing her hair back from her forehead.

Then Mote saw something astonishing. Captain Pejalmer opened her eyes, looked up at their father, and winked before closing her eyes again.

Mote looked at Deb. ‘Did you see …?’

 ‘Yes! But I’ll miss what happens next if I have to keep answering you … Whoa, look at her hand.’

From their vantage point, the children could see that, concealed from the other three members of the security team, Captain Pejalmer’s fingers were working at the phone protruding from her trenchcoat pocket.

A few seconds later, the national-anthem ringtone tinkled from their father’s phone.

He answered it swiftly: ‘Yes? … I see …Well, I’ve got a bit of a situation myself, but I’ll send the others.’

He looked around at Byrd, Barker, and Le Zard. ‘There are reports of violence breaking out in the floss-flickers’ quarters. I’ll stay with Pejalmer and call the medics. You three go sort those darned floss-flickers*.’

The minute the rest of of the security team had left, Captain Pejalmer sat up. ‘I thought you might remember that trick,’ she said, smiling at Mendelssohn.

He clutched her hands. ‘Katie-Kat, I was so scared ….’

‘Katie-Kat?’ Mote was appalled.

‘Would I bail on you, Felix?’ asked Captain Pejalmer.

‘Felix?’ Mote spluttered.

‘Felix is Latin for cat,’ Deb whispered, puzzled.

‘So they have cat-themed pet names for each other, that’s …’

‘Weird … disturbing, gross, I know, but …’

Below, Captain Pejalmer was now explaining to their father: ‘I was doing the last security check round the pool complex when that bear came out of nowhere. And it was so focused. It was me it wanted!’

 ‘That swipe must’ve hurt,’ said Mendelssohn, lifting his hand gingerly to her neck. ‘I really will call the medics.’

 ‘No!’ said Captain Pejalmer. ‘It’s fake. When the bear came at me, I knew I had to get it out of public sight fast. So I threw it a big piece of juicy, raw pork.’

Their father looked concerned. ‘Free range?’

 ‘Of course! Then while it was busy eating, I shoved the bear inside the complex and onto the travelator. I checked round to see where it could have come from, called you, then quickly applied this fake wound.’

‘Where did you get pork at such short notice?’

Captain Pejalmer opened her trenchcoat to reveal enormous pockets in the lining. ‘These days I always carry a hunk of meat, just in case … Not to mention blood capsules for feigning injury.’

Mendelssohn looked impressed. ‘You haven’t changed, Katie-Kat. Although most women have handbags, you know.’

‘Handbags,’ said Captain Pejalmer, ‘are a tool of patriarchal oppression. Real women have pockets.’

 ‘Well you certainly are a …’

 ‘Oh, yuck. No!’ hissed Mote.

 ‘I’m worried about something else,’ said Deb. ‘Why didn’t she call Dad as soon as the bear was in here? Why did she go looking round for where the bear had come from first?’

‘Wait, look!’ said Mote.

Captain Pejalmer was pulling something else from a pocket. A note. ‘This was attached to the bear’s collar,’ she said.

Their father read it aloud: There are several endangered species around here, aren’t there. Shall we count?

 ‘Some wolves are endangered …’ Deb murmured.

 ‘Felix,’ said Captain Pejalmer to their father. ‘This was why I needed to get you alone. I think one of the security team is involved in this plot. At least one. I faked the injury so they’d think they’d succeeded in putting me out of action.’

Mendelssohn looked stricken. ‘Do you think it has to do with when I worked at …’

 ‘Highly likely,’ she cut in. But right now we’ve got to contain this bear before it wakes.’  

The next thing to emerge from Captain Pejalmer’s pockets was a long rope. Mote and Deb watched as she and their father bound the great beast and then, at Captain Pejalmer’s urging, dragged it to the pool’s edge.

 ‘I’ll jump in first. You follow,’ the Captain instructed.

Their father paused. ‘Are you telling me there’s a secret underwater exit? How did I not know that?’

‘Oh, there’s always plenty the boss doesn’t know,’ said Captain Pejalmer.

Their father hesitated.

 ‘Come on, Felix,’ said the Captain. ‘Let’s see those almost-Titanic belly-flopping skills,’ She herself made a neat dive into the pool, fully clothed.

Mendelssohn took a deep breath and leapt after her, hitting the water with a thwack, before beginning to swim, dragging the unconscious bear behind him.

The submerged figures reached the far wall and vanished.

Deb looked at Mote: ‘Follow them?’

 ‘Definitely.’

As the children jumped down from the ventilation tube to the table, Mote remembered how much he needed to go to the toilet. Then he had a brainwave, which made him forget again. 
‘Deb!' said Mote. 'She didn’t call him Felix as a cat name! It’s because it was the first name of Mendelssohn, the composer who Dad’s named after! Felix Mendelssohn! And  …' He felt himself filling with excitement, importance, and terror. ‘Deb, you know who I’m named after.’

 ‘Funnily enough, you’re named after the composer Mozart, Mozart.’ said Deb.

 ‘But he wasn’t just Mozart! He was called Wolfgang Mozart! Deb, what if all this is about me? Wolfgang means walk like a wolf!’

Deb looked at him for several seconds then said slowly, ‘You have really got to get over yourself.’

Mote ignored that. He trailed after her to the pool, dazed. This was huge!

His foot caught something that went skidding over the tiles, and he picked it up. ‘Deb! A jar of spiders!’

She turned back, curious. ‘Do you think it fell out of Captain Pejalmers' pockets? Can I see?’

Mote handed it to her. ‘Anyone who was in here could have dropped it,’ he said. ‘Even that camera guy.’

Deb turned the jar in her hands. ‘Guess what kind of spiders these are?’ She looked faintly triumphant. ‘They’re wolf spiders.’

Still holding the jar she dived into the pool.

Mote followed. He suddenly hoped there wasn’t any of that stuff in the water that went coloured when you peed.

* In floss-flicking, each competitor eats a cob of corn, then uses dental floss to flick out stuck bits from between their teeth - sending those bits as far across a field as possible. Once an under-funded and seldom-watched sport, floss-flicking has been revitalised by the advent of night-time tournaments held under black lights, using fluorescent corn and fluorescent floss. Despite its new popularity, the sport continues to be marred by the behaviour of its players who have a reputation as temperamental and aggressive.

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Now it's your turn to write Chapter 6. There is even more danger ahead. At the same time, the kids must stay alert to solve the mystery. Clues are accumulating. And isn't is funny how animals keep cropping up? Is this significant? Or is the most numerous species the Red Herring? You have one week to write this.

A NEW WRITING CHALLENGE!
Instead of (or as well as) Chapter 6, write your own side story about any minor character in the story - absolutely any you like. (Perhaps the woman who won the golden ticket? Or the ill-fated belly-flopper from Chapter 2? Perhaps another athlete? Or maybe a person who doesn't appear in the story but is connected in some interesting way to someone who does?)

You have two weeks to write this side-story. A winner will be chosen, but we may publish more than one entry on the Fabo site.

Chapter Four

Hanging with the Bear

by Maureen Crisp

‘Wow! What a start to the Titanium Games in the pool. The Cross The Pool Flotation race has a live looking polar bear centrepiece. This is just ground breaking or shall we say ice breaking stuff! How will the competitors cope?’

The news camera man gushed ecstatically into his microphone. Mozart and Debussy looked at one another. They knew there was no centrepiece. A real polar bear was sitting on a rapidly melting piece of ice in the swimming pool!

Mote’s brain quickly computed the implications of a dangerous meat-eating protected species being found in a public event with no barriers. It all added up to disaster.

Debussy moved fast. She marched up to the cameraman and waved her finger in his face.  ‘How did you get into a restricted area? This complex is closed to the public and media until tonight.’

The cameraman looked surprised. ‘I was told a side door would be open.’

The polar bear began to growl and then it crouched down.

‘That is the most realistic robot I’ve ever seen,’ said the cameraman, trying to get another shot of it. Debussy jumped in front of the camera.

‘You’d better get back through that side door, she said. ‘We won’t tell on you if you leave now. Our dad’s head of security and he could cancel your media pass just like that.’ She snapped her fingers. The cameraman hoisted his camera on his shoulder and scuttled away.

Mote grabbed Debussy’s arm. ‘How do you think of stuff like that?’

Debussy grinned, ‘It’s true.’

And so’s that bear! We’ve got to get help.’ Mote pulled Debussy by the arm back to the travelator.

Behind them there was a splash. Mote looked over his shoulder. The Polar Bear was swimming to the side of the pool heading in their direction.

‘Let’s run,’ said Mote. The Polar Bear’s seen us... we could be lunch.’

They sprinted down the passage and jumped onto the moving travelator and kept running.

Through the loud speaker they heard a familiar voice. Attention! Attention! The pool complex must be evacuated due to a chlorine leak. All personnel to the exits immediately! This complex will self-seal in two minutes. Evacuate all personnel!

A siren started to wail.

‘Good,’ said Debussy, running easily down the travelator. ‘They’re on top of the problem.’

‘And the polar bear’s nearly on top of us,’ screamed Mote, trying to keep up.

 Behind them they could hear growls as the polar bear tried to get on the travelator.

‘Keep running, we’re nearly there.’ called Debussy from in front.

The travelator stopped, with a jolt. Debussy stumbled. Mote skidded, his feet leaving black streaks on the rubber surface.

Behind them the growls got louder.

‘It’s not two minutes,’ yelled Debussy. They were nearly at the complex doors. They just needed to get past the security desks and they were safe. There was a loud clunk.

‘No,’ yelled Mote. He sprinted to the doors. They were locked. Debussy and Mozart stared at each other for one panicked second. ‘The souvenir shop, it must have a back entrance,’ Debussy spun round.

Mote grabbed her. ‘You can’t! Don’t Deb! he yelled. Deb tried to get her arm free. ‘The polar Bear’s right there... probably looking for a Titanium beach ball.’

Escape routes, screamed his brain. Think escape routes not lame ball jokes. Mote looked all around. Up! Above him were huge ventilation tubes running the length of the pool complex. They carried warm air out of the building. Mote jumped on top of the security desk. ‘Come on Deb, I’ll hoist you up.’ He grabbed a chair and hauled it up on the desk as Debussy climbed on.

The polar bear knocked over a rack of souvenir hoodies and got tangled up in the clothing.

Debussy climbed on the chair and reached for the edge of the ventilation tube. She was too short.

 ‘Climb on my back,’ said Mote, balancing on the chair. He gritted his teeth as Debussy put a foot on his hip and clambered up his back, struggling to get her feet on his shoulders.

Then her weight was gone. He looked up. She was straddling the tube, leaning down to reach for his hand.

The polar bear tore the clothes apart and started for the security desk.

Mote reached for Deb’s hand and swung up as Deb pulled. He hit the tube hard on his stomach and struggled to breathe as he clutched the smooth sides.

Below him the chair toppled off the table. With one swipe the polar bear broke the chair in two and settled down to chew the wood.

Mote closed his eyes in relief.

‘You know,’ said Debussy sounding remarkably calm for someone hanging above certain death, ‘I think whoever got that polar bear in here just made one huge mistake. Everyone will be trying to figure out how it was done. You can’t move a polar bear on your own. There must be a few people who knew about this.’

Mote snapped his eyes open. ‘You mean all the wolves are in on this,’ ‘Barker, Le Zard, the Byrd woman and Captain Pejalmer? But why? It doesn’t make sense.’

Debussy ignored his question and continued thinking out loud. ‘You would need to make sure no one was around. This place has security guards 24/7.You would have to have a strong alibi.’

Mote stared down at the polar bear below them. It finished with the chair and started on the desk.

Motion caught his eye and he squinted to see through the security glass. ‘Great, they’re here. We’re about to be rescued. He sat up to wave.’

‘No Mote! Keep still! Don’t let them see you!’ Debs kicked out with her foot and caught him a good one on the arm. Huh, Mote blinked. Debussy must have lost it. He knew it, too much Sherlock Holmes watching.

Debussy looked back at Mote. ‘We know one of the security team must be doing this and maybe more. They’re all going to have alibis. If we run around telling people what we know, that just plays into their hands. Whoever it or they are...they will try to get rid of us.’

Mote stared at her. He opened his mouth to say don’t be silly, but the words wouldn’t come. His brain made a few unwelcome connections and he knew she was right.

‘So we just lie up here, keep our mouths shut and watch what happens.’ Mote cursed quietly. ‘I hope they don’t take all day to get rid of the polar bear. I’m getting hot up here and I need to go soon.’

Well just hold on,’ Debussy said.

‘I am,’ snorted Mote, ‘by my fingernails.’

‘Sssh,’ Deb hissed. ‘I think I see guns.’

We’re heading into the middle of the story. Chapter Five ups the stakes for Mozart and Debussy...can things get any worse? Can they crack alibis? Can Mozart go to the toilet?

Chapter Three

TO CATCH A WOLF

By Michele Powles

Mote recoiled, holding his hand to his mouth and trying not to be sick.

“Wuss,” said Deb, taking in his pallor even as she leaned in closely over the sheep.

“Don’t. Like. Blood.” Was all Mote could manage before he had to turn away.

“It’s not blood, it’s a bit of red balloon.” She pulled the limp red streak off the sheep’s belly and waved it in front of him.

“I knew that. Didn’t want you to…you know, get scared or anything.”

Deb rolled her eyes.

“I’ll take that thank you. Might be evidence.” As if he’d been there the whole time, Inspector Barker loomed over them and snatched the balloon fragment, secreting it away in a plastic bag. Mote shivered as the Inspector’s sleepy eyes seemed to scan him like a barcode.

 “I’m not sure this is the place for children. Shouldn’t you be…I don’t know. At school or something?”

Deb narrowed her grey eyes, the steel in them glinting like polished metal. When she added an arched eyebrow, Mote groaned inwardly.

Deb pursed her lips and used the tone that got their father totally riled. “It’s a hol-i-day. And our dad is in charge. I don’t see you solving much. In-spec-tor.”

Inspector Barker swivelled his eyes away and to Mote it felt as if a nasty buzzing had stopped in his ear.

“Debussy, that’s quite enough thank you,” Mendelssohn Finnegan said even as he reached for his ringing cell. “I have to go. Carry on Inspector. Don’t get in the way, and get back to the grandstands. Your mother will meet you there.” He scurried off.

“Bring him this way.” The Inspector demanded of the stretcher bearers and started off up the corridor.

“Hang on.” Deb’s eyebrow was still up and Mote put a hand on her arm but she shrugged him off. “Where are you taking him?”

The Inspector’s eyes lost their sleepy look for just a moment and Mote felt a cold rush wash over his body as if the corridor had turned into a fridge. “I’m taking him to the hospital.”

“What about the sheep?”

“Evidence. It’ll go to Scotland yard.” The Inspector waved his hands at the stretcher bearers and the lot of them shuffled up the corridor and around a corner. Mote turned to his sister. “Are you mental? He’s from Interpol. He could have you arrested.”

Deb shrugged her shoulders and put her hand in her pocket. “Not very good at his job then.” She pulled out a curled up piece of paper.

“What did you…where did you get that? You’ll have messed the fingerprints.”

“Almost impossible to get fingerprints off paper. But I’ll be careful.”

“ Shouldn’t we give it to the police?”

“Sure. And we will. As soon as we’ve worked out if we can trust them.”

“What about Inspector Barker then. Interpol is like…police times ten. Or maybe even times a hundred.”

“I don’t trust him. He makes me feel all…” she shivered and rolled her eyes back in her head.

It felt strange to agree with his sister twice in one day but that was exactly how the Inspector made Mote feel. He shook himself to get rid of the last remains of the corridor fridge feeling.

“It takes a wolf to catch a wolf.” Deb had unrolled the paper and was holding it carefully by the edges.

“Oh man. Wolves have big teeth.”

“Yeah, and their bite is twice as powerful as a dog’s.”

Mote thought through the day’s events. “The wolf-whistling contest. Do you think…”

“Don’t be dumb. That’s way too obvious.” Deb chewed on her finger. “To protect the sheep, you need to catch the wolf.” Her eyes lit up. “Wolf pack leaders have to fight to keep their position. Maybe there’s someone trying to get the top job and this is their way of getting rid of their opposition.”

“Which top job?”

“Exactly.” Deb frowned. “Who would benefit from the opening ceremony going wrong?”

“Someone who wanted Dad’s job? Or to be Head of Security,” Mote suggested.

“Or top of police, the head of SAS or the SIS. Pretty much anyone who was in the room with us for the opening.”

“We should tell Dad that there’s a wolf out to get him.”

“We don’t know for sure. But we do know that whoever did this isn’t going to stop. You reap what you sow, remember. This could get really nasty.” She pulled something small out of her pocket.

“Hey, what’s that?” Mote took it and turned it over in his hand. “Could be a piece of a flash drive.”

“Definitely a clue,” said Deb. “But it’s not helping now. This wolf is leaving plenty of clues but we’re no closer to solving any of them.”

They were both silent a moment. Then Mote pulled out the day’s Titanic games program from his back pocket.

“What are you thinking?”

Mote held up a finger and incredibly, Deb was quiet. “The pool,” he said finally.

“We don’t have time to watch events,” Deb said but the spark in his eyes must have been as hot as it felt and she didn’t nag him further.

“We won’t be watching the events,” Mote said. “The Byrd lady said she was going to the opening of the Titanic pool tonight, and the Tuatara said he’d go with her.”

“That’s two wolves,” Deb said, getting his drift. “I think I heard Captain Pejalmer say she would go with them too. But what about the Inspector? He gives me the creeps.”

“I didn’t hear him say where he was going. But three out of four is a good place to start.”

“True. You think they’ll still go, after this?”

“I think Dad will make them. Keep up appearances and all that.”

“Good point. Right, come on then.”

The Titanic swimming complex was connected to the main stadium by an underground tunnel with a travellator running the whole distance and illuminated blue koru patterns set into the curved walls and ceiling.

                “Check me out,” said Mote, doing an almost perfect moonwalk as they glided alone.

                “Nice,” said Deb, not even looking as she gazed at the Titanic games venue map she’d grabbed on the way down.

                “Deeeebussy.”

                “Shhh, I’m concentrating.”

                Mote sighed and looked up at the blue ferns they were passing. “Um, Deb.”

                “I said, I was concentrating.”

                “You’ll want to see this.”

                They’d just reached the entrance to the swimming complex and in front of them the blue koru patterns from the ceiling swooped down to twine around the door. Only they didn’t. They swooped fine, they just didn’t twine around the door because where the door should have been was a gaping hole.

                “Holy floating polar bears,” said Deb.

                “I know,” said Mote. “What could have done that to the door?”

                “No. I mean holy floating polar bears,” said Deb.

                Mote followed her finger and wished he hadn’t. Floating in the pool was a lump of ice and standing on it, its teeth dripping with something that didn’t look like a red balloon, was a large and very crotchety polar bear. 

                                                 *************************

Now it's your turn to write chapter four. In chapter four, the kids get deeper into their own investigation but now they are in danger themselves.

You can read the winning child's chapter and the judge's report at Winning Writing