(Jenny's POV)
"Frank, do we have to go back to school?" I moan. "Can't we just go back to your place and stay in bed?"
"Yes, Jen, we do have to go to school, as it's the first day of term," he says, glancing over at me as he eases the car into a curve. "We both have duties to perform – to both St Hope's and MI9. Besides, I know you want to avoid Mrs King so you don't have to explain to her why you haven't called her all summer."
"This is why we need to turn the car around and go back. Come on, Frank – please? We can do what we did yesterday? You remember? You made me breakfast in bed – pancakes with strawberries, drizzled with maple syrup and freshly squeezed orange juice. You fed me the strawberries and I fed you the pancakes which then led to us having a very passionate make-out session – I've still got the bruises." I lift up my scarf to show Frank the love-bites he peppered on my neck and above the collarbone. "Then afterwards we lay in bed and slept late into the afternoon. Then we spent the rest of the day watching DVDs… and making out while the film was playing. Remember?"
"Yeah, what a day that was…" Frank sighs. And after a moment's thought, he says, "But we're still gonna head for St Hope's. Nice try, though."
"Hmm!" I groan. "You big meanie." Frank laughs it off. "But thanks for letting stay a second night."
"No problem," he says and continues driving, while I stare out of the window for the rest of the journey.
I wonder how Aunt Hermione will react when she sees me. Will she get her arms around me and ask me how my summer was or will she get pissy at me as I didn't call or text her saying I was coming back – or I was already back. Not to mention that she'll want to know why I was crying over Frank. Oh God. This is exactly why I didn't want to come into school. But like Frank said, I can't avoid her forever. I'll think of some excuse I can tell Aunt Hermione – I hope. As we finally make the turn onto the road leading to St Hope's, I hear Frank say, "Hey, I've just thought of something."
"It's quite normal," I say, glancing over to him. Frank smiles knowing that I'm only teasing him. "What is it?"
"Did you know that this week will be twelve months to the day that we met?"
"Really? Wow." I knew, but I'm surprised that he had remembered. Most men don't even remember twelve-week anniversaries, let alone twelve-month ones.
"Remember when we first met? We were both taken aback by each other's appearances and personalities. I thought you would be someone who would curse at the students, drink heavily, smoke marijuana, and only shows movies while you slept through class, and you thought that I was someone who was…"
"A sad, old, fat guy with balding hair and had the personality of Sid James from the Carry On films," I finish. "And I said that we shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Who would've thought that inside the contents of the book we both found out something interesting and valuable about each other? Me, the crime-fighter and you, the secret agent. It's amazing, isn't it?"
"Hmm. I was thinking maybe to commemorate this momentous occasion, we can go out for dinner. There's a new restaurant in Soho that's just opened called Haru's. If you don't fancy Japanese, we can go somewhere else."
"No, Japanese sounds great, though I will have to convince the governess that is Aunt Hermione to let me out. We'll just have to wait and see what happens."
"Well, if Mrs King does let you out, I'd like to be chivalrous tonight and pick you up at your door at eight o'clock."
"I don't mind at all. Eight o'clock would be fine." As soon as Frank parks the car in the lot, I give him a quick kiss. "I'll see you later." Then I hop out of the car and head into school.
It looks as if everyone has shown up early since it's the first day of classes. A group of kids I don't know are perched on the chairs in the foyer, their hair gleaming in the morning sun that's coming through the windows. Some of the girls are touching each other, giggling and sneaking glimpses at other people out of the corner of their eyes. While two boys stand with their thumbs hooked in their belt hoops. I've got a feeling they have been practicing how to stand all summer.
"Yo, Miss B!" Scoop calls.
I grin and wave. It's amazing how Scoop has changed over the past twelve months. Before, he used to mock around, not pay attention to any of his lessons, not do his homework and tease the brainy kids – Rose included – now, he's kinder to his fellow students and his schoolwork has improved. He's a whole new person and that's all down to yours truly.
I take a deep breath when I finally reach Aunt Hermione's office. Part of me is hoping that it's only Mr. Flatley that's in there so I can get my timetable and move swiftly to whatever classroom I should be heading for. I knock on the door.
"Come in!"
Ah, crumbs.
It's Aunt Hermione.
God. Right, let's just get this over and done with. I open the door and poke my head in to see Aunt Hermione sitting at her desk, looking at some letters that's addressed to her. I push the door open and head inside.
"Hi, Aunt 'Mione," I say, a nervous grin spreading across my face.
She looks up at me. "Oh, so I see it lives," she says, without enthusiasm.
"Oh. Ha-ha, very funny, Aunt H. Good one." I can see that she's not laughing. "Oh, Aunt Hermione, I really am sorry for not calling, texting or e-mailing you during my stay in Ireland or not telling you that I was coming back. It's just… I needed to sort some things out."
"With Mr. London, I presume?"
I nod. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. What happened between me and Frank… this was all down to me. This is not Frank's fault, this was all me. I thought… well…" Come on, Jen, think of something – anything!
"Jenny?" says Aunt Hermione. "What happened?"
"I thought Frank might have… cheated on me." I say the last bit so quietly; it's like I didn't say anything at all.
Aunt Hermione blinks, not quite getting it at first. Then – "You thought Mr. London cheated on you?"
"It was prom night. Frank and I were outside, cuddling under the stars and I told him I was thirsty, so he offered to bring me my drink. When he went inside, he left his phone behind – and then it started ringing. I should have left it ringing, but I couldn't stand it, so I answered it. It was some girl saying how she couldn't wait to get into his pants. I listen to the girl, hardly able to believe it. Then I told the girl that she wasn't going to do any of the things she just said to my boyfriend and I hung up. When Frank got back, I confronted him about it. When he denied it all, I went home and… well, you know the rest."
Aunt Hermione waits a few seconds, and then when I don't reply, she asks, "So, what happened next?"
"Well, when I came back yesterday," Even though I came back on Friday, "Frank was waiting for me at the airport. He somehow managed to get the name of the airport from Livi. Anyway, I tried to avoid him, but he kept following me and telling me that he wasn't gonna leave me alone until he explained himself. There was no point in arguing back, so we went to a quiet spot and talked. Turns out that the girl who called his phone was drunk and dialled the wrong number – Frank called the girl to tell her that he hopes she's happy for ruining a relationship, and it was then the girl explained herself. Then Frank told me how he would never in a million years ever cheat on me because he loves me."
Aunt Hermione's expression softens a little.
Then I quickly add, "Also, he said that you would murder him if he did cheat on me – which I know he won't."
"You're damn right he won't," says Aunt Hermione. "But I'm glad the two of you have sorted everything out. But next time, instead of running away, talk things through. Hear the other person's side of things."
"Yes, Aunt Hermione."
"Also, at least give me a heads-up in your comings and goings. Don't let me wait until I can actually see you in the flesh. Understand?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I nod.
"Good." She holds out a sheet of card. "Your timetable for the new term."
I take the timetable and take a brief look at it. My English lessons are on Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays, PE will be Mondays and Tuesdays, PSHE and Art are on Wednesdays, Music will be Thursdays and IT are on Fridays.
"Is there anything else?" Aunt Hermione asks me.
"Hm?" I look up at her. I'm about to say no when I suddenly remember. "Actually, Aunt Hermione… I was wondering if you would let me out tonight."
"You wanna go out tonight. But I haven't seen you all summer!"
"I know, but it's me and Frank's anniversary this week and we wanted to celebrate. Please let me out, Aunt Hermione? Please?"
"Well…"
"I'll tell you what, if you let me out tonight, I will do all the chores around the house for the month – I'll cook, clean and do the shopping. And I'll guarantee you that there'll be no BWC's – no bitching, no whinging, no complaining. What do you say to that?"
Aunt Hermione is giving this a lot of thought. "Hmmmm… deal." We shake hands to cement the deal. "You'll start your chores from tomorrow. Any complaining and I'll add an extra month, understand?"
"You got it." Then the bell rings. "I better go. I'll see you later, Aunt Hermione. And thanks again."
I hurry out of the office and down the corridor to the classroom I'm supposed to be in. When I do reach the door of the classroom, I can't believe my eyes when the class I have this year is the same old gang that I had last year.
"Surprise!" I exclaim when I barge in. "I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me."
"Jenny!" the class cries.
"Hi guys! I hope you all had a great summer."
"Yeah!"
"By the way, I would like to say congratulations on your exam results. I read the e-mail and I was mightily impressed – especially you, Scoop."
"Well, that was all down to you, Miss B and your method of teaching," he says.
"Maybe that's why I was chosen to teach you guys this year. As you already know, this year is your final year of secondary school. Meaning as well as taking your GCSE exams, it's also going to be the time to choose which college you want to go, depending on your grades. Now, I know it's a lot to think about and I don't want any of you to panic or feel pressurised. We've got plenty of time, that's why I want you to give it some attention now so it doesn't come as a big rush later on. I want you to think about your future. Your goals. Ambitions. What you want to be when you're older. Right, anybody got any ideas?" I ask, looking around.
By now, half the class has their hands up.
"Olympic gymnast," says Carrie.
"Footballer," says Donovan.
"A member of the Green Party," says Avril.
"Nobel Prize-winning scientist," says Rose.
"DJ and rapper," says Scoop.
"Rich and famous," says Davina, and everyone cracks up laughing.
"Excellent," I say. "Those who know what they want to do are lucky. And those who don't don't worry. You don't have to decide today. But it does help to have some inkling of what direction you might like to go in. For those of you who don't know, we'll have a look at it all over the next few weeks. In fact, a good starting point is to take a look at who you are now. Identify your strengths and weaknesses. The seeds of today are the fruits of tomorrow. So, to start with, I'm going to give you an essay to be handed in at the end of term. Doesn't have to be too long. A page or so."
I pick up my black marker and turn to the whiteboard.
What makes me 'me'? I write.
"That's your title. I'll give you fifteen minutes now to make a few notes."
I write a few more questions up on the board.
Who am I?
What are my interests?
What do I want? What are my goals in life?
What are my strengths and weaknesses?
What would I like to do as a career?
While everyone scribbles madly, I take out my phone and text Frank to say that I can see him tonight. Afterwards, I get a magazine out of my bag and start flipping through the pages.
By the time the fifteen minutes are up, everyone is pretty much doing their own thing. And as the day wears on, that's exactly what I do. I spend the day in the library doing little doodles and drawings. It's been so long since I've done anything artistic. I draw several drawings of myself – the first one is of me as a rockstar. I'm wearing a chainlink cami top over a ripped tee and frayed denims with white lace edging. And I'm playing my electric guitar in front of a packed audience. Next, I draw myself as a can-can dancer working for the Moulin Rouge. My fabulous frou-frou dress features rows of ruffles, paired with white ruffled panties, nude tights, a red garter and pumps. My hair is pulled back and piled high, accented with a red feather for a final touch that's très fantastique! But my favourite has to be the drawing I do of me as a Playboy Bunny, which consists of the corset, bunny ears, cotton tail, and collar with bow tie, cuffs with cuff links, black tights and matching high-heeled shoes and I'm serving drinks to Frank, who I dressed up as Hugh Hefner.
I'm so soothed by my drawings that I almost forget that I have a class to teach. I rush off to the Art room just as the last person has entered the room and after I get my breath back, I start telling everyone about the history of art and women painters and the changing ways women have been portrayed. Then I show them some William Blake watercolours and Picasso paintings of mythical creatures, and then I flash lots more Greek gods at everyone and amuse them with muses.
"Now, I want you all to draw yourselves as a mythical or legendary creature. Be inventive as possible," I say, handing out paper. "You can use black ink and watercolour, like little Blakelets, or paint like Picasso."
Whilst everyone gets down to work, I decide to have a go myself and settle down to my self-portrait. I draw myself as a glamorous witch, dressed in an outfit of orange, appropriately adorned with black cats and stars. I add a wide waist-cinching belt with gold buckle, a black and gold choker, and black peep-toe mules accented with orange pompoms. My black witch hat sits atop my wavy hair, and my face features delightfully dark plum lips, with nails like jewelled claws and in one elaborately manicured hand I'm holding a little doll, the image of Stark, stuck all over with pins.
I get so caught up in it that I failed to notice that the bell has gone, and by the time I'm finished with my drawing, I look up to find the class empty. What is wrong with me today? I'm never this spaced out before. I hope I'm not this tonight with Frank. I spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the hazy sun in the playground, listening to my MP3 player and moving my left foot to the beat of the music.
When school's finished I wait for Aunt Hermione by her car. When she arrives, we drive off home and I'm greeted by Uncle Richie. About I tell him my situation that I had over the summer; he gives me a quick hug and tells me that he's happy that everything is back to normal. And so am I. And after snacking on some food and watching a bit of TV, I go upstairs and have a quick shower. Then I pull on an abstract print skirt and a black one shoulder drape top with strappy black sandals, silver hoop earrings and the charm bracelet that Frank got me for Christmas. Finally, I do my makeup, doing a serious cover up job of every bruise and bite mark that's on my neck and collarbone. I outline my eyes to make them look big and beguiling and put mascara on my lashes so I can flutter them provocatively. Then I apply pale pink lipstick for a really kissable pout, and after giving my hair a good brushing, I'm finally ready.
Honk! Honk!
I lean out of my bedroom window and yell, "I'm coming!"
I grab my clutch bag, skip down the stairs, and dash down the front walkway to the black cab in front of the house, my heels clip-clopping along the pavement. Frank is inside the cab and he looks very dashing. He's dressed in black pinstriped trousers, a red collared shirt and tie with black and red floral pattern, and a black suit jacket. After he tells the taxi driver where to go, he leans in towards me, puts his arm around my waist and whispers in my ear, "Absolutely stunning." I giggle and cosy up against his shoulder as we head to Haru's.
xxoOoxx
When we get to Haru's, the restaurant is packed solid and hot, filled, for the most part, with loud people and even louder music, tiled walls and cut-out windows displaying thousands of origami flowers, amid leather seating and dark wooden tables. Luckily, Frank made reservations earlier today as the waiter leads us to an empty table about halfway to the back.
"Sorry about all of this," says Frank. "I didn't think it'll be this packed. Or noisy."
"Don't worry about it," I say. "Just think of it as being in St Hope's."
He laughs and calls over the waiter. He orders red wine for us, then we order our meals – I have salmon teriyaki and Frank has the sushi and sashimi. The evening goes by quickly and pleasantly. We talked, we laughed and now we're exchanging presents. I go first. It was supposed to be his birthday present, but because I didn't speak to him throughout summer, I never had the chance to give it him – until now that is.
"Happy anniversary," I say as I hand Frank the black crepe parcel tied with silver ribbon. When he opens it up, he'll find a box containing an Emporio Armani silver bracelet watch and sterling silver cufflinks.
"It's wonderful," says Frank, and he gives me a peck on the lips. "Thank you."
"Look at the back of the watch."
Frank the watch out of the box and reads the back. "'In my heart, it is true I am blessed to have you'." He gives me another peck on the lips. "And I am blessed to have you too. Here, have my present."
He gives me this small, red parcel tied with purple ribbon. I open it up – and I find a key. I stare at Frank, confused.
"It's the key to my place," he says. "I know you're thinking it's too soon because we just got back together, but I just had a feeling that it was right. Also, I've wanted to give you this for some time. So anytime you want to get away from Mrs King's for the night or the weekend, you can use the key to stay at my place."
I stare down at the silver house key, my heart hammering, and then I stare at Frank, who's staring at me with a bewildered look on his face.
"I-if you don't like it, I can get you something el–" I move in close for a kiss before he can finish his sentence.
"You are doing no such thing," I say. "I love it. It's the best present I've had in years. Thank you so much."
Frank's cheeks go pink. "You're welcome."
The rest of the night goes by in a blur. We order a chocolate dorayaki to share and we take turns at the slice of the Japanese pancake with chocolate filling.
Soon afterwards, dinner is over, the plates cleared and the bill paid. Although it's nearly autumn, it's a beautiful night. The street is still filled with people. On the corner an old man wearing a baseball cap is seated on an overturned dustbin lid, playing a funky blues tune on a harmonica. Several couples are clustered outside an after-hours club across the street. Car horns honked. The street is still filled with traffic.
We catch a cab and we snuggle up together as the driver drops me off to my house. And when I do arrive outside Aunt Hermione's it's nearly eleven.
"Thanks for tonight, Frank. I had a wonderful evening," I say. "And thanks again for the wonderful present."
"No problem," he says. He bends forward and kisses me. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I climb out of the taxi and wave as it disappears down the road and round the corner. I'm twinkling that Frank's given me the key to his place. It's surprising the entire street isn't illuminated by my stardust. I'm still sparkling when I waltz over to the door and root around in my bag to find the key to Aunt Hermione's house.
"Aha!" I pull up the key from the inside pocket of the clutch. "Gotcha!"
I put my key in the door – and before I can even get it out, a hand goes over my mouth causing me drop my bag and its contents, and I'm being dragged down the path. I can only guess that it's a man who's grabbed me because of his iron-like grip. I try to wriggle free but there's no chance at all of getting away.
"Stay still," he commands. "And don't even think about screaming, otherwise it'll be the last thing you do. Got it?"
Slowly, I nod. Then, a black van pulls up in front of me and the man. The door slides open and I'm violently shoved in the van. The back of the van is dark when the door slides shut – there are no windows for me to see any light from outside.
"Hey – what's going on? Let me out of here!" I yell, banging on the walls of the van. "Do you hear me? I said let me out – whoa!" I'm thrown to the floor as the van takes off and speeds down the road. Even though the back of the van is dark, I close my eyes and hold tight as the van speeds up and powers along the road, and rounding corners. What the hell is happening? What do these people want from me? More importantly, where am I being taken? For all I know, it could be miles and miles away from London. It could be the middle of nowhere!
Eventually, after a short while, the van slows down and stops. I gingerly climb to my feet, my body aching all over and I hear the front doors of the van open and shut. I almost jump out of my skin when the back door slides open – but not all the way, just a little bit so only the man can climb in. He is top-heavy and muscular, and dressed in black. I can't see his face as he's wearing a balaclava.
"Turn around," he commands.
I stare at the black-clad man.
"Are you deaf or something? I said turn around." He brings out an army knife. "Unless you want that pretty face of yours sliced open."
I glare at him and obliging his request, I turn around. The man walks towards me and suddenly, my vision is blotted out by a blindfold. Then he grabs my wrists and I feel my hands fastened together behind my back. Then, I'm taken out of the van and I can feel the merciless hold of the man's hand on my arm as I'm being guided to… whatever place I'm going to.
After what feels like forever – but I know it must've been five minutes – we stop. I hear a knock at the door, three long raps and then two quick ones, like a little fanfare announcing our arrival. Once the door opens, the hands are on me again and I get pushed inside. And after another five minutes of walking, we stop. My blindfold is removed and I'm blinking into the dim light. I look around the room – the walls are red and the floor is black and shiny, with a large world map on the wall. There's also a large black leather chair and a round glass table. Where the hell am I?
My question is soon answered when a door opens and there, standing in the doorway, the dim light is… the Grandmaster?!
Oh, my God – I'm at SKUL!
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God. I can't believe it. I just can't bloody believe it. OK, just stay calm. Just stay calm. Just stay fucking calm! For fuck's sake, just fucking calm down!
I try not to be too scared when the Grandmaster walks towards me, even though my legs are trembling and the palms of my hands are sweaty. When the Grandmaster does stop in front of me, he studies my face, which makes me very uncomfortable.
"Untie her," he tells the muscular man.
He does. There's a slight discomfort to my shoulders. I rub them to stop the pain.
"So, we finally meet at last… Miss Brownstone," says the Grandmaster.
I stare at him as he takes his seat on his leather chair. How the hell does he know my name?
"Miss Brownstone?" I whisper in a mouse's squeak out of my head.
"Oh yes. I know everything there is to know about you, Miss Brownstone. Or should I call you… the Cat?"
My heart leaps to my mouth. Every muscle in my body ties itself into a knot. The Grandmaster knows that I'm the Cat. But… how?
"What's the matter?" the Grandmaster asks in an innocent tone. "You as the Cat haven't got your own tongue, have you?"
"U-umm… I-I have no idea what you're talking about," is all I can stammer.
"There's no point trying to deny it," says a voice. "After all, it was you who told me who you were."
There's a figure standing in the shadows in the corner of the room. The person steps out of the shadow and stands next to the Grandmaster.
Oh God.
I don't believe it.
It's the receptionist from MI9.
But rather than wearing her navy blue work suit, the girl is wearing a red skintight jumpsuit with a padded black vest on top, adorned with the SKUL logo on the left side of her vest and long black boots. Accessories include black gloves with a thin cuff, a utility belt with holsters on either side, and two pistols and a black military cap. And rather than having her hair in a bun and wearing glasses, her flame-red curls falls over her shoulders and she's wearing contact lenses.
"Yes, Miss Brownstone, it is I – the receptionist," says the woman. "But I'm more commonly known as SKUL Agent Amy Alberts."
"For nearly a year, Agent Alberts has been working undercover at MI9 to find the identity of the meddling feline nuisance that is the Cat if MI9 were to arrest her," says the Grandmaster.
"But you made this oh-so easy for me when you decided to hand yourself in on Friday. The moment you told me your name and you were taken away, I immediately informed the Grandmaster. I also gained information on where you lived, hence why you were snatched at your door."
I don't say anything. I'm too freaked out that the Grandmaster knows who I am. My chest is aching so hard, I can hardly breathe. Oh God, how am I gonna get out of this one?
"And now, after all these years, the moment has come for me to destroy you where you stand," says the Grandmaster. "Any last words before my agent puts a bullet in your head?"
Agent Alberts pulls out her pistol and points it at me. Come on, Jen, think. Think! Surely you must have one more trick up your sleeve – despite the fact you're wearing a one shoulder top.
"Well?" says Agent Alberts, cocking her pistol.
"Er… well… I… I…" I take a deep breathe. I've got it. "I can't believe you have got me mixed up with my sister."
"What? What the hell are you talking about? You are Jenny Brownstone – you are the Cat."
"No, Jenny Brownstone is my sister. I'm her slightly younger – by five minutes – twin sister, Claudia Brownstone."
"What?" Agent Alberts is staring at me.
"What?" The Grandmaster is staring at me too.
"Oh yes – we're identical twins," I say. Please, God, let this work.
"Grandmaster, don't listen to her," Agent Alberts tells him. "She's just saying that to save her own skin."
"Now why would I do that? I just told you – I'm her twin sister, Claudia. So are you seriously telling me that my sister is the Cat? That is so wicked-cool."
"That's enough! You are not Claudia," Agent Alberts' face grows hard, her blue eyes clear and cold as water. "You are no-one's twin sister. You are Jenny Brownstone. I saw you with my own eyes on Friday at MI9 headquarters telling me so."
"Uh, no. On Friday, I got back from my holiday in Ibiza. I stayed with a friend before returning to my aunt's house."
"We've had agents outside the house since Monday," says the Grandmaster. "They never saw you enter or leave the house."
"That's because that I returned to my aunt's house today," I respond.
"All right, fine. Let's say that you went to your aunt's house today – where is your 'sister'?" Agent Albert asks.
"How the bloody hell am I supposed to know? It's not like we can read each other's mind or something, otherwise I would have known much much sooner that she was the Cat."
"Grrrr…" she growls. "OK. What about the man you left with on Monday?"
"What man?"
Agent Alberts brings out a palmtop computer and turns it on. Its CCTV footage of me with my arm linked with Frank's as we left MI9.
"It's also the same man that Agents Mac and McCampbell saw in the taxi this evening picking you up outside your aunt's house," she says, nodding to the two men either side of me. "Care to explain that?"
"My sister's a serial flirter," I reply. "She'll flirt with any guy, great or small, old or young, gross or gorgeous. At the batting of her eyelashes, adorning weedy guys will mill around her ankles. That just happens to be my boyfriend she's linking arms with – the one I told her a million times not to flirt with."
"A boyfriend who you didn't was an MI9 agent?"
"Are you serious? My boyfriend works for MI9? Wow. Who'd thunk it, eh? My sister the crime-fighter and my boyfriend the spy. Crazy, isn't it?"
"Oh, I've had enough of this!" Agent Alberts snaps, pointing her gun at me again. "I don't care who you are, I'm still gonna shoot you. And then I'm gonna shoot your sister, too."
"That's enough, Agent Alberts," says the Grandmaster. "Lower your gun."
"Wha…?" She turns to him. "B-but, Grandmaster…"
"I said lower your gun."
Agent Alberts hesitates. Then, she uncocks her gun and tucks it back in her holster.
"Miss Brownstone, I hope you can accept my most sincere apology for the misunderstanding that has occurred," says the Grandmaster. "Sometimes, I'm surrounded by incompetent idiotic morons."
Agent Alberts frowns but she says nothing.
"Apology accepted," I say. "Now, I'm sure that if you return me back to my home, we can forget about this little incident."
"Who said anything about letting you go?" says the Grandmaster.
"Eh?"
"I can't exactly let you go, only for you to tell your sister about you being taken to SKUL now, can I? Oh no, no, no. Now, I have leverage. I can use you to bring the Cat out of her hiding place and capture her."
"That's if the Cat shows up at all," says Agent Alberts, staring at me very intently.
I feel my heart pounding underneath my top.
"Oh, don't worry, my dear, she will," says the Grandmaster. "If the Cat cares about her sister, she'll rescue her. And if she doesn't show up," he looks pointedly at me, "we'll know that this Miss Brownstone is lying and she will be shot."
I gulp.
"Miss Brownstone, your sister has until twelve o'clock tomorrow afternoon to show up in an attempt to rescue you," he continues. "If she's a no-show…"
"I'll take great pleasure in killing you myself," Agent Alberts finishes.
"But how is the Cat supposed to find me?" I ask. Then it hits me. "Unless, of course –"
"I'm going to trap her," says the Grandmaster. "I'll activate a tracking device that'll make it easier to find you. When the Cat arrives here, my agents will have her surrounded and she'll be thrown in jail, where she'll spend the rest of her days. But like I said before, if she doesn't turn up and I find out that you're lying…" He uses his right hand to mimic a gun and holds it to his right temple. "Bang." Then he laughs his sinister laugh.
I stand silently. I can't speak. I can't move.
I truly am in the doghouse.
"Take her down to the dungeons," the Grandmaster tells the black-clad agents.
The muscular man roughly takes me by the arm and shoves me down the long, dimly-lit corridor. When we get to the end of the corridor, the tall and fat agent goes to unlock the door, while the muscular man's grip tightens around my arm. He's trying to hurt me. After he unlocks the door and opens it, the fat agent strides through, with me – being push roughly once again – and the muscular agent following behind. It's just as well someone's holding onto me because the steps are incredibly steep – not to mention slippery, and there isn't any handrail, so you can easily stumble, fall down the stairs and break your neck.
When we reach the bottom, we walk down the long, dank corridor, with many doors along it. The fat agent goes to one of the doors, unlocks it and holds it open. The muscular man thrusts me in the cell and I fall on the stone floor, scraping the palms of my hands and both of my knees – and it hurts a lot. When I stand up again, the door slams shut. I hurtle to the door. I grab the handle and pull hard.
No success.
"Let me out of here!" I shriek as I bang on the door. "Let me out!"
No reply.
I bang my shoulder against the door. I grab the knob and twisting the knob, I push. Strained against the door with all my weight. But it's no use. I let out a frustrated sigh and sit on the cold concrete, my back leaning against the door. The floor is very cold and the damp spreads through my skirt but I still sit here.
My knees have stopped bleeding, but they both look pretty dirty and so do the palms of my hands. I wrap my arms round myself because the air is so cold.
This has to be one of the worse jams I have ever been in. Not only am I acting as my own twin sister, but if the Cat – who happens to be me! – doesn't show up tomorrow, I'm as dead as a Dodo. But in a way, there's a bright side to this – I have a boyfriend who's an MI9 agent. I'm sure Frank will think of something that will get me out of here.
I stand up again and go to the extremely lump mattress in the corner of the single plain room and lay on it, covering myself up with the very itchy blanket and I drift off to sleep.
Oh Frank, I hope you can save me…