(Frank's POV)
The whole restaurant is suddenly appallingly silent. The eating, the conversations, and pretty much the whole atmosphere come to an abrupt halt due to the scream. Nobody moves – besides me, my mother and Jenny, as we spring into action. We stand up, push back our chairs and head to where the scream came from. A small crowd of people when we approach the table across the room are standing in a circle round a seemingly lifeless body on the ground. The body is a man in his mid-forties, rather naturally skinny in physique, with light brown hair, and thick matching eyebrows, wearing a black pinstripe suit with a red square pocket, a white shirt and a red tie, his thin black glasses lopsided. Even though his face is covered in chocolate mousse, I instantly recognize him as Nigel Hawtrey, an amiable and courteous Crown Prosecutor of the Crown Prosecution Service.
"Oh my goodness!" my mother cries when we arrive. Jenny kneels down beside the unconscious lawyer, placing her index and middle fingers on his neck to check his pulse. Then she checks if he is still breathing: listening over his mouth and nose for breathing and feel his breath against her cheek.
"He's not breathing," she says, and starts pushing hard on Hawtrey's ribcage. She pushed again. Then again.
"How did this even happen?" I ask.
"I have no idea," says a man. He's bent over Hawtrey, his mouth lopsided, gaping in shock. He's very tall, slightly obese but looks muscular at the same time with a dark complexion, black hair, and light brown eyes, dressed in a black suit. A violet-blue tie, plum-coloured dress shirt and sleek black dress shoes complete his look. Again, I recognize him as Immanuel Anderson, businessman and investor. "One minute we were just chattin' and the next thing I know, Nigel passed out into his chocolate mousse."
"Does he have any allergies?" Mummy asks.
"Not that I know of. Is he gonna be OK?"
"We're doing everything that we can," I say. "Has someone called an ambulance?"
"One of the waiters is phoning for one now."
I kneel next to Jenny. "How's he doing?"
"Not good," she replies, still pushing on Hawtrey's chest. "His pulse is getting weaker and weaker. He'll be dead before the paramedics get here. We need something to maintain his consciousness. Any ideas?"
Before I can offer a suggestion, my mother calls out to the room, "Does anyone have an EpiPen on them?"
"An EpiPen? But Nigel doesn't have an allergies," says Anderson.
"I know you said he doesn't, but the EpiPen injection contains epinephrine – a chemical that narrows blood vessels and opens airways in the lungs, and increase heart rate so he can stay conscious long enough for the paramedics to get here."
Suddenly, a man in a grey suit with a grey face comes up to my mother and pulls out the auto-injector from inside his jacket pocket. "Here," he says. "You can use mine."
Mummy smiles gratefully at the man as she takes the EpiPen. "Thank you, kindly, sir," she says. She kneels opposite me and Jenny. She pulls off the safety cap of the auto-injector and with a quick motion, pushes the auto-injector firmly against Hawtrey's outer thigh, releasing the spring-loaded needle that injects the dose of EpiPen. Mummy holds the auto-injector in place for a few seconds after activation. After she removes the auto-injector, Mummy massages the injection site for ten seconds.
A moment or so later, she gently places two fingers on the inside of Hawtrey's wrist to check his pulse rate. "His pulse is weak, but it's there."
Everyone in the restaurant breathes a sigh of relief at the news. Mummy instructs me and Jenny to place Hawtrey in the recovery position. We do just that, and we patiently wait for the ambulance to arrive – which isn't very long as they arrive five minutes later. The paramedics carry Hawtrey away, with Anderson following behind.
"Let's follow them," says Mummy. I turn to her. "I have to know if he's going to make it."
Jenny nods in agreement and after quickly paying for our meals, we exit the restaurant via elevator and step out of the London Hilton, where the ambulance has pulled away from the pavement and dashes off to the hospital.
"Taxi!" Jenny shouts, flagging one down. The taxi pulls up and she, Mummy and I pile into the cab. "Quick, follow that ambulance!" says Jenny, pointing to the ambulance. And then she adds, "I've always wanted to say that."
The cab takes off and follows the ambulance, taking us to a private hospital in South Kensington. I pay the driver and follow Jenny and Mummy into the hospital. I see Anderson sitting in the waiting area.
"Mr. Anderson," I say, approaching him.
He looks up. "Oh. It's you again," he says. "What are you doing here?"
"We wanted to see if your friend was all right," says Mummy. "Do you mind if we wait with you?"
Anderson shakes his head. "Not at all."
The three of us take a seat and we wait and we wait and we wait. And wait some more. After waiting for nearly half an hour, a young doctor, a tired-looking guy with dark lank greasy hair and glasses wearing a white lab coat comes up to us.
"Mr. Anderson?" says the doctor. "I'm Dr. Forrest."
Anderson stands up. "How is Nigel? What's the story? Heart attack?" he asks.
"No. I'm afraid to say that Mr. Hawtrey has been poisoned."
"Poisoned?!"
Dr. Forrest nods. "Right now, he's in a coma."
"Excuse me, doctor," I say, standing. "Are we talking about food poisoning here?"
"I doubt it. This is the most virulent strain of poison I've ever come across. But we're doing everything we can."
"Is Nigel gonna make it?" Anderson asks.
"The poison is racing though his system. If he's going to make it, we need to find the antidote, and fast."
"Can I go and sit with him?"
"Of course – right this way." Dr. Forrest leads Anderson along the corridor.
"Excuse me, I'm need to use the ladies," says Jenny, and rushes off.
"I can't believe someone would poison that man. Who would do such a thing?" says Mummy.
"I have absolutely no idea," I say. "Nigel Hawtrey is a Crown Prosecutor, so he would have made some enemies along the way. It'll be difficult to find out who did it. Also, we need to find out what he was poisoned with so we can find an antidote."
"Hmm. One of us will have to distract one of the doctors or nurses and Mr. Anderson so the other can take Mr. Hawtrey's blood sample."
"We don't have to," I hear Jenny say.
I turn to her. "What do you mean?" I ask.
"While letting you and your mother think I was popping into the ladies to powder my nose, I actually used my watch-communicator to turn myself invisible, followed the doctor and Anderson to Hawtrey's room so I could scan the blood sample and have it analysed."
"Really? That's amazing, Jenny!" says Mummy. She gives me a nudge. "I like her more and more."
Jenny starts to grin. Then we hear the sound of buzzing.
"The analysis is done," she says. Jenny nudges up beside me and Mummy and opens up her watch-communicator. "It's isolated the toxin. It's a lethal poison derived from the plant Rosaceae vularis commonly known as the Wild Thorny Rose."
"Hmmmm. Maybe if I get a plant sample from Kew Gardens, I can use it to work up an antidote," I say.
"I'm afraid this is unfeasible," says Mummy.
"Why?" Jenny and I ask.
"Because, the Wild Thorny Rose has been extinct for nearly five years which means, I'm afraid… there's no antidote."
"Oh no," says Jenny. "Now what do we do?"
"There's nothing we can do – well, not right now, it's getting quite late. Let's get some sleep and tomorrow, we'll figure something out."
The three of us get on our feet and leave the hospital. We head to a nearby tube station and hail for a taxi. To ensure that she gets home safely, I tell the taxi driver my mother's address. At her destination, Mummy kisses me on the cheek to say goodnight and tells Jenny that it was lovely to meet her. After Mummy leaves, I tell the driver where to drop me and Jenny off. He takes us to our destination and I pay him, plus tip.
I let myself and Jenny in at home and head straight upstairs where we change out of our evening wear and into our pyjamas. Then we climb into bed and I close my eyes, allowing the pillow to suck me into sleep.
xxoOoxx
I sleep very late the next morning. My eyes flicker open but for a moment I stay completely still in the bed, lying on my back with my head resting on the pillow. I look to see if Jenny is still asleep – only to find her side of the bed empty, but there's a note on the pillow saying she's gone to the restaurant to see if she can obtain CCTV footage from last night to see who could have slipped the poison in Hawtrey's food or drink.
"If the police have it, I'll find out which station it is so I can download the footage into my watch-communicator," Jenny writes.
After reading the note, I roll out of bed and go to the bathroom for a shower and then dress in dark wash skinny jeans and a blue button-front shirt. It's a chilly morning so I put on my black sweatshirt too, and head down to the kitchen to make myself breakfast – bacon, sausages, eggs, and hash browns.
When I'm finished I decide to visit Hawtrey at the hospital to check on his condition. I take out my phone and call for a taxi. Then I text Jenny where I'm going, and then I grab my coat and dash off.
When I arrive at the hospital I ask the receptionist if I can see Hawtrey. But she tells me no visitors are allowed. Apparently after me, Mummy and Jenny left last night, the police arrived ten minutes later and now they're guarding Hawtrey around the clock until an antidote is found. But since the antidote is the toxin that poisoned him no longer exists, Hawtrey will remain in a coma – or worse. I'm sure once Jen knows who poisoned Hawtrey; she'll go straight after them and demand the antidote.
"Excuse me – I was wondering if I could see Nigel Hawtrey," says a female voice.
"I'm sorry, miss. But as I told this gentleman here, no-one is allowed to see Mr. Hawtrey," says the receptionist, referring me as the gentleman in question.
The woman turns to me. She has a very attractive face. Her skin is extremely pale and she has piercing green eyes. Her hair is a sizzling flame red; long and mostly straight with a few stray curls. She's wearing a white furry jacket, black denim skinny jeans, a pink plaid scarf and a pink shirt, complete with black leather boots. The smell of her perfume wafts to my nostrils, tickling my senses with its rose-scented fragrance.
"Are you a friend of Nigel?" the woman asks.
"Erm… not exactly – I only met him last night," I say. "Mr. Hawtrey collapsed at the Galvin at Windows and my mother and girlfriend were able to resuscitate him before he was rushed to the hospital. How do you know him?"
"I'm his girlfriend. Chelsea – Chelsea Eden."
"Frank London."
I lead Chelsea to the chairs in the waiting area and we sit.
"So you saw Nigel, huh? How was he?" she asks.
"Well, I didn't exactly see him. All I know is that he's in a coma… and that he was poisoned," I tell her.
"Oh." There's a little pause. "When Immanuel called me and told me what happened, I was devastated – I couldn't sleep. I mean… I just saw Nigel last night at the restaurant – he was well. And now he's… Who would do such a terrible thing?"
"I don't know. I'm sure the police are on the case."
Chelsea nods, but I see her eyes welling up. "Oh Frank," she says shakily. "What if Nigel doesn't make it?"
"Now you can't think that," I say. "Hawtrey is going to fight this. Once the police found who they're looking for, they're gonna come at them for the antidote, give it to Hawtrey and he'll be better."
"You really mean that?" Chelsea's large green eyes widen.
"Yes, I do." I place my hand on her shoulder. "Just think positive and believe that he's going to be all right."
Chelsea gives a grateful smile. "Oh, Frank, thank you." Suddenly she's leaning forward – lips puckered. She's going to kiss me!
She reaches out to grab me but I back away, avoiding the kiss.
"Huh?" is all Chelsea can think to say.
"As I mentioned earlier, I have a girlfriend," I say.
"Oh. Can I at least have a hug?"
I hesitate but reluctantly agree, and Chelsea wraps her arms around me.
"Ahem!"
I see what's catching my attention out of the corner of my eye. I immediately wriggle away from Chelsea and stand up, trying to smooth my clothes and compose myself, though I'm hot and trembling.
The person is standing with their arms tightly crossed over their chest.
It's Jenny.
"Jenny! Hi!" I try to be cool, to act as if I'm glad to see her there, but my voice is shaky, and I sound a bit too glad.
"Hi, Frank. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything." She walks up to me and Chelsea.
"Oh, no. No, no, you weren't." I motion to the redhead. "Erm, this-this… this is Chelsea Eden. She's Nigel Hawtrey's girlfriend," I tell Jenny.
Jenny looks at the redhead suspiciously. "Hi," she says, and wraps her arm around mine. "Jenny Brownstone – Frank's girlfriend."
Chelsea smiles for some reason, a thin, slow smile. "So, you're Frank girlfriend?" she says. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Frank just told me how you saved Nigel's life – I'm very grateful."
"Mmm," Jenny mumbles.
"Anyway," Chelsea stands up, "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to run – places to go, people to see and whatnot. It was nice meeting you, Jenny." She turns to me. "And it was very nice meeting you, too, Frank." With a wink, she sashays out of the hospital as if she doesn't have a care in the world.
Jenny's dark eyes glare after Chelsea, shooting daggers at the back of her head. "Who the hell does that cow think she is? Fluttering her fake eyelashes at you and throwing her around you like that. Ugh, I can still smell her old lady perfume on you. I need some air." She pulls away from me and heads out of the hospital.
"Jen, it's not what you think it is," I say, following her. I catch her by the hand. "She was upset – she just wanted a bit of comfort."
"It looked like she wanted more than that from where I was standing. She wanted to plant those trout pout lips on you."
"You mean the almost kiss that never happened because I pulled away?"
"Maybe," Jenny says, crossing her arms over her chest again. Her eyes are lowered, squirming where she stands.
"Oh, Jen." I put my finger under her chin. "I'd rather throw myself under a train than throw myself into the arms of another woman. You know you're the only girl in the whole world for me. You're my special girl. Remember?"
She brings a faint blush to her cheeks. "Yes." She leans into me, and I feel the touch of her lips on mine. "And don't you forget it, mister."
I give her a smile. "I won't."
"Good. And now that we got that out of the way, let's get back to the business at hand. How is Hawtrey?"
"I couldn't see him. His room is guarded by police, but my guess is his condition is the same. How did you get on?"
She gives me a thumbs-up. "I snuck into the London Hilton control room early this morning and downloaded the footage from last night at the restaurant into my watch-communicator before the police came. I was thinking that we could go to St Hope's and watch the footage, isolate the culprit, go after them and get he or she to create an antidote."
"That sounds like a plan to me."
We walk to the tube station and catch a taxi to St Hope's. When we get there we head for HQ where Jenny connects her watch-communicator to the computer and starts to flick through the footage.
"OK, here we go," she says after finding the right one. We see on the screen Hawtrey, Anderson and Chelsea having a chat over dinner.
"Let's fast-forward this," I say, speeding up the footage. A minute or two later I play the footage again, this time the three of them sharing a laugh over desserts. Just then, Chelsea stands up – looks like she's leaving. But before leaving, she grabs Hawtrey and plants a deep kiss on him.
"Slag," Jenny murmurs, but carries on watching the tape.
Hawtrey, a little flushed, continues to chat to Anderson. He's tugging the collar of his shirt, he looks dizzy… then he passes out and goes face-first into the dessert and then collapses onto the floor.
"Go back again," says Jenny. I do what she says and rewind the tape. "Stop there!"
I play the footage again of Chelsea kissing Hawtrey and then walking out of the restaurant – followed by Hawtrey falling forward and collapsing.
"Ah." It's an obvious conclusion. "I think we know how the poison got into Hawtrey."
"Yep," says Jenny, not taking her eyes off the screen. "Dig up anything you can on Chelsea Eden. Who she is, where she's been, what she does, the works."
"Consider it done." I immediately get to work.
xxoOoxx
"Do you have anything, Frank?" Jenny asks half an hour later.
"Well, Dr. Chelsea Eden is a research chemist with Xiang, the cosmetics firm. She works on the development of new fragrances. Their newest is a perfume called Nightshade – apparently it's 'deadly'. She has a PhD in botany from the University of Leeds, and she offers a monthly lecture series on endangered and extinct plant species at the University of Westminster," I tell her.
"Got an address?"
"She lives in Honeywood Close in Hampstead Heath."
"Excellent." Jenny heads towards the lift.
"Wait – you're not serious in going by yourself?"
"Well, yeah. I mean it's not like she's the Grandmaster or anything. She doesn't have guards to protect her – just her plants."
"Yeah – plants that contain poisons, viruses, bacteria, and fungi for her to use against you. You saw what she did to Hawtrey."
"Yes, I did." Jenny sighs. "Look, Frank – I know you're only looking out for me, but I as I told you before I can take care of myself. I've taken down every crazy, kooky, obsessive bad guy during my time as the Cat, and this one is no different."
"I'm not saying that you can't take care of yourself, I was hoping you can have someone with you as back-up in case something happens to you," I say.
"I'm pretty sure that every agent in MI9 is either on their holidays, on a plane coming back from their holidays or on a mission. Leaving us to solve this – or in any case, me." Jenny comes up to me and takes hold of my hands. "Frank, I'll be fine. I won't even be long – I'll go over there and confront her, get the antidote, heal Hawtrey and I'll be home in time for lunch. OK?"
I dither but I give in and nod. Smiling, Jenny gives me a quick kiss and rushes off into the lift, taking her back up into the school.
As much as I love her there are times when she can be very stubborn. I know she can take care of herself but sometimes she needs someone to have her back. The only thing is… there's no-one to have her back. Like Jen said, every agent in MI9 is on his or her vacation, on a plane coming back from one or on assignment. I suppose I could follow her, but I can't fall prey to Chelsea and her toxic lips. There must be someone…
A thought comes to me. There is one person – I don't know if they'll agree to it, but I'll have to chance it. I bring out my phone and dial the number. After a few rings, the person answers.
"Hello?"
"Hi, it's Frank," I say. "And I need your help."
(Jenny's POV)
I'm circling above Hampstead Heath with my Jetpack Backpack trying to figure out where Honeywood Close is. The job of finding the place is proofing more difficult when a quarter of the park is covered with trees – and the fact that there are lots of people in the park enjoying their walking, running, swimming, kite-flying or taking their children to the adventure playground as it's a Saturday so I can't exactly walk around in my spy suit. But it looks like I may not have a…
"Mm?" Something is shimmering from the corner of my eye. I look to see where the light is coming from. The light shimmers again – it's coming from the Heath. It looks like a house with a glass roof – that's where the light is reflecting from. The house is surrounded by trees and shrubs and iron railings. It must be private – people are walking past the area and there is no-one approaching the house. Looks like I've found Eden's secret hideout.
I make my landing in front of a black ornate gate with a sign that says: 'PRIVATE PROPERTY – NO TRESPASSING'. I glance quickly around the wooded area. Empty. Satisfied that the coast is clear, I go through the gate. It's as if I'm in a magic garden from a children's storybook. It seems quiet, but the birds are singing loudly. A flock of green parakeets circle over my head, screeching at me. I walk down the stony path. Suddenly I'm surrounded by colour, deep red, scarlet, orange, apricot, pink and purple, flowers in long hedges, flowers in bushes, flowers in trees. They're all different flowers but I don't know their names.
I must admit, they are beautiful.
I walk slowly down the path admiring the flowers, almost on tiptoe.
Up ahead, a stream trickles beneath the flower hedges, with a wooden footbridge.
I notice several mallards quacking further up the stream. There's a duckpond further into the garden, with a huge weeping willow.
"Wow," I breathe. As magical as it all is, I've got a job to do. I forget about the beauty of the garden and carry on up the path that leads into a clearing.
I seem to have stepped straight from the enchanted forest to the countryside. I'd never seen so much green before, all different shades of green, from the leaves, the ferns, and the grass. There's a river with a small bridge. And in the middle of the clearing is a large, stainless glass dome with a pebbly path leading to it. I follow the path towards the glass dome.
I step inside and gasp. Various breeds of plants, trees and flowers are inside the dome. Many of which span from flowers, flytraps, vines and many others.
I realize instantly that I'm standing in a greenhouse.
"Whoa," I whisper, walking further into the conservatory of green palms and great fans of fern, with pink and purple orchids everywhere. There are wonderful flowers and plants in rich crimsons and chrome yellow and jade green giving off a wonderful smell, along with the lush, tropical vegetation. I feel like I'm in the Garden of Eden. And speaking of Eden, I suddenly remember what I'm here for.
I shake my head to regain my senses and wander through the maze of the utopic garden, and after walking what feels like forever in a circle – but really has only been ten minutes – I see a flash of red hair. I wander up the aisle until I see a table with flower pots and test tubes on top of it. As I walk closer I see some the technological pieces, various machines, a computer, tables and bookshelves. It seems that this greenhouse doubles as a laboratory.
I hear humming. I dodge into the bushes, hiding myself. I fumble slowly through the shrubs, even though the branches are scratching my face and the leaves and twigs are in my hair.
I reach the clearing, keeping myself hidden in the bush. I see Eden emerging into her lab, wearing the most ridiculous outfit I've ever seen – a one-piece, strapless metallic green leather bathing suit with attached leaves, a green belt with attached glitter tulle over skirt with leaves, green glittery tights, green lace gloves, green leather boots with leaves trim, and green rose earrings. Leaves also form her bracelets, necklace, and crown. Additionally, she's carrying a miniature repeating crossbow on her right wrist.
She appears to be creating a formula using one of the flowers – a beautiful red rose. She plucks off a few petals from the rose and puts them in a cup. She pours water in the cup, and then she strains it out leaving the rose petals behind. Next, Eden places the moist rose petals in a bowl and mashes them using a mortar and pestle. Then she returns the mashed rose petals in the water and strains it out again. She keeps repeating the steps until the water turns a brown-pink-orange colour. Finally she takes the rose petals out and pours the coloured water into an empty perfume bottle. She spritzes the perfume in the air and takes a sniff.
"Ah, gorgeous," she says. Then she turns to the rose. "Just like you." She puts the perfume bottle down and gets a watering can and waters the flower. "Oh, you've done so well today, sweetheart. Now, get some rest and don't worry. I won't clip off any more of your beautiful petals unless I need them."
"You won't be clipping off anything for a long time where you're going," I whisper. It's time to make my move.
But something has caught my ankle. I try to struggle free but the grip tightens. Just then I feel myself bring wrapped up by… vines?
"Hey! What the hell?" I cry. More vines ensnare me and suddenly I get lifted by the climbing plant. I try to get free from my restraints but stop when I find myself held over a gigantic Venus flytrap, large enough to engulf me.
"Oh shit," I murmur. I can't believe I've been seized and held prisoner by a plant.
"What has my sweet little flytrap caught this time?" I hear Eden say. She appears from the bushes. "A little big for a fly – or should I say spy. Hey, I know you – you're the girl from the hospital. You're Frank's girlfriend. What were you called again? Janey…?"
"It's Jenny," I tell her.
"Oh yes, that's it – Jenny."
"How did you know I was here?"
"I have a strong connection to nature. I can hear her voice speaking to me."
"Really?"
"No, of course not. I have hidden cameras in the garden and in the greenhouse. Anyway, to what do I owe the honour?"
"Nigel Hawtrey."
"Oh, the poor Crown Prosecutor. I hear he's not expected to live. It's so sad."
"Why, Eden?"
"You see, Nigel had to pay for his crime."
"What crime?"
"Why, murder, of course. Plowing up a field of beautiful wildflowers for that silly prison up in Buckinghamshire." Eden holds up the potted rose she watered. "This little rose – the Wild Thorny Rose – would be extinct today if I hadn't saved my precious from those horrible bulldozers. The blood of those flowers is on his hands! So his fate was sealed with a kiss. And now so is yours."
Before I can comprehend what she meant by what she said, I get lowered to Eden's level. She's applying a coating of the lipstick to her full red lips – the poison! I struggle not to get kissed by those toxic lips, but the branches from the flytrap hold my head steady. The redhead brings her lips down to mine. I fight try to it, keeping my lips tightly closed, but Eden shoves her tongue past my lips, right down my throat. My first kiss with a girl and unlike Katy Perry, I don't bloody like it! Not that I have a problem with gay people, I just like to be kissed by someone – man or woman – who doesn't have poison on their lips.
When the kiss ends I spit immediately, but I'm already feeling its effects. I feel so dizzy.
"What's wrong? Afraid I have cooties? Now you've gone and hurt my feelings. Too bad – I was going to share the antidote with you." Eden mockingly holds up the perfume bottle I saw her make. "Lovely fragrance, don't you think? I call it 'Rose from the Dead'. Unfortunately for you, you won't be the one to purchase this wonderful aroma. You see, I haven't fed my flytrap today and my plant can get quite peckish if they haven't eaten."
The vines lift me up again and hovers me over the carnivorous plant. Its leaves open up, ready to devour me. I try to move my hands to try and get to my utility belt, but my arms are pinned to my sides and I'm weak from the poison. I can't get free. I'm gonna get eaten alive by a plant. And there's no-one to save me. Frank was right – I should've called for back-up. And now I'm gonna be plant food.
Eden holds her arm up. She's aiming her crossbow at me – or rather at the vines. She fires and the arrow cuts the vine – and I fall. One second I'm in the air and there are screams – all mine – and then someone swoops in and catches me in a bridal carry, and I'm taken away from the plant's leaves.
"What the…?" I exclaim, not believing what's happening. The person who caught me lands on the ground, setting me down next to them and untying the vines from me. I feel too weak to stand and I feel quite faint, but the person supports me.
"Are you all right?" the person asks.
"Yeah, I'm fine…" I stare at the person who saved me. My mouth falls open in shock. I don't know whether or not the poison is making me hallucinate. It can't be – but it is. "No way! Martha?"
My mother-in-law to-be stands proudly with a smile on her face. She looks incredible! She wears a tight-fitting black leather jacket with a black polo-neck top underneath, tight black trousers and black calf-length high heel boots, along with a Jetpack Backpack. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail.
"Hello!" she says.
"B-but how did you know…?" I start.
"Frankie called me and told me that you could do with some back up. I guess he was right."
"Yeah – he was. And for that I am thankful."
Martha smiles in response. Just then, Eden appears.
"You!" the redhead screams. "I'll teach you and your grandmother not to escape from my plants clutches!"
"Come on, Jenny – now that I'm here, let's show this walking rose bush why she shouldn't mess with the London ladies," says Martha. "That's if you're OK to fight."
I give her a smirk. "Don't worry – I'm always ready. Let's do it!"
Martha and I leap into action and attack Eden. However the redhead doctor deflects our punches and kicks with her arms. And now she's twisting, pouncing, and performing somersaults and back handsprings to dodge our attacks.
"Why do bad guys have to be skilled gymnasts?" Martha asks.
"I don't know. But I'm getting tired of this combat parkour bullshit!" I say. I grab a vine and lasso Eden with it, then jump towards the redhead, and kick her in the belly, sending her flying into some bushes.
"Woo-hoo!" I cheer, punching the air.
"Well done, Jenny!" says Martha.
But our victory is short-lived when Eden clambers out of the bushes and frees herself from the vine.
"You bitch! You'll pay for that!" she cries. She stretches her hand out, aiming her mini crossbow at me.
"Uh-oh!" I say. "Look out!"
Now it's my turn to dodge the attack as Eden fires her arrows at me as well as Martha. We flip and high jump to get away from the arrows – but I can barely move quickly enough because of the poison administered to me.
"We need to find a way to stop Eden from firing at us!" I say. "I don't think I can keep up for much longer!"
"Don't worry – I've got this!" says Martha.
Eden is aiming her crossbow, getting ready to fire again. But Martha takes a running start, then slides across the floor and knocks the redhead off her feet. The arrow fires but hits an overhead lamp which breaks and falls to the floor, beginning a fire.
Martha and Eden get up at the same time with Eden looking very pissed. She aims her crossbow at Martha but my feisty future mother-in-law uses a vine, and uses it to grab Eden's crossbow arm and expertly flips her. But the redhead reacts smoothly, rolling over to charge at Martha, picking her up like a sack of potatoes. I start to rush over to them.
"Hey! Put me down, you…" Before she can finish her sentence, the redhead throws Martha at me, knocking us both down.
Groaning in pain, Martha and I get onto our feet. We see Eden standing with a smug look on her face. I want nothing more than to bitch slap her into next week. I turn to Martha who seems to be thinking the same thing and we run towards the redhead. But the floor gives away and I find myself falling down into a pit of spiked plants – but I manage to grab the edge and hang on. Though I don't think I can hold on for long – not only is Martha holding on to my legs for dear life, but I'm dizzy from the poison. Also the fire spreading around the greenhouse is not helping – sweat and dizziness is not a good combination.
"Jenny – can you lift yourself up?" Martha asks.
I try and scramble up – and slip, holding on the ledge by my fingers.
"I'm sorry, Martha," I say. "I can't. I'm… I'm just too weak."
Eden is approaching me, high heels clacking with each step. She looks triumphant as she smiles down at me, baring her perfect teeth.
"It's the end of the line for you, Spy Girl," she says, aiming her crossbow at me. "Enjoy extinction."
"But we're not going alone," I hear Martha say. I look down to see what she's talking about – and she reveals the rose in her one hand, while the other hand hangs tightly around my ankle.
Eden gasps. "No!" she screams. "You horrible old witch! How could you?!"
"The antidote – for the rose. What's it going to be?" says Martha.
I look up at Eden. Tears are seeping down her face. I wish she would hurry up – my fingers are going numb and they're starting to slip. I can't… hold on… any longer…
My remaining fingers slip off and I find myself falling…
But by amazing grace, Eden seizes my arms by the elbows and pulls. And she keeps pulling until me and Martha is out of the pit. Eden immediately surrenders the antidote and, as soon as she has hold of the plant, forgets about everything else.
"My baby. My precious baby. My pretty baby," she mumbles, huddling the rose protectively.
But we're not out of the woods just yet. The fire is starting to get out of control.
"How do we get out of here?" Martha asks.
I look around, trying to find an exit but the flames have surrounded us. We're trapped!
Suddenly the windows above us shatters and breaks and shards of glass rain down on us. Martha and I cover our heads – and Eden's. I shake my head to remove the glass and debris. I look up and see our chance of escape.
"As a singer from the 1980s once said, 'The only way is up'," I say, pointing up at the shattered glass ceilings. "Grab a hold of Eden."
I take hold the redhead by the elbow, Martha the other, and together we take off with our Jetpack Backpacks and we fly out of the greenhouse before the fire destroys the rest of the foliage.
As soon as we're away from the fire, Martha and I make a landing by the North gate of the Heath, where the fire engines, ambulances and polices are. And with the fire and emergency services are several black cars. Men in black suits jump out of the cars and make their way over to us – along with Frank!
"Here you go, boys," says Martha, handing Eden to them. The agents place the handcuffs on the redhead and take her away to their car.
"Are you OK?" Frank asks.
"Just a sec," I say. I reach into Martha's pocket and pull out the perfume bottle. I spritz the perfume on me and within seconds I feel my strength starting to come back. "I'm feeling better. Now let's this antidote to Hawtrey."
Frank, Martha and I jump into one of the black cars and the driver speeds off, taking the three of us to the hospital.
(Frank's POV)
We manage to reach the hospital in record time and we hand the antidote to one of the doctor attending Hawtrey. While we wait, Mummy and Jenny get checked over for smoke inhalation. Anderson arrives and I tell him how we found an antidote for Hawtrey, and how the poison got into his system. Anderson told me how he knew there was something fishy about Chelsea and he never really trusted her, but he thanks me, Mummy and Jenny for saving his friend. An hour later the lawyer awakes from his coma to see Anderson standing over him while Jenny, Mummy and I watch from outside the room.
"W-where am I?" Hawtrey asks.
"You're in the hospital," Anderson replies.
"Why? What happened?"
"You passed out into your dessert. But you're going to be fine. Now, Nige – about your engagement to Chelsea Eden."
Engagement?
"We're good friends, right? I have to be honest with you, don't I? Okay, then. I think Chels is wrong for you," Anderson confesses to Hawtrey.
"Oh," the lawyer says. "I really thought she was the one."
"Hey man, there's plenty more fish in the sea. And when you're feeling better, we'll attract that big fish and reel it in for you."
Hawtrey gives Anderson a smile. "Thanks. You're a good friend."
"Come on, let's leave them to it," my mother whispers.
I take one last look at Hawtrey and Anderson, and I walk down the corridor with Mummy and Jenny.
"Thank God Hawtrey had a lucky escape," says Jenny. "I mean to be engaged to a beautiful but deadly and slightly obsessive environmentalist like Chelsea Eden – thank goodness he was quick to see the light without having to actually find out what her agenda was."
"Well, I'm glad that Hawtrey is going to be OK," I say. I take hold of Jenny's hand and kiss her knuckles. "And I'm glad that you're OK, too."
"Me too. And thank you for sending in someone to have my back. You were right on two accounts – for sending in the cavalry and for choosing your mother to be the cavalry. She was awesome!"
"Why, thank you very much," says Mummy. "I was surprised when Frankie called me and asked if I wanted to relive my glory days as a field agent, considering I haven't done anything like this for over thirty years, but after today, I've forgotten how fun it was being a spy."
"And I have to say, Martha, you totally rocked! Hey – maybe MI9 can open a special branch of spies for the elderly. We can call it something like MI Grey."
Mummy laughs. "Oh Jenny, you're such a card. But I must admit that's not a bad idea. Maybe we can discuss more of MI Grey over afternoon tea. I know a place in Mayfair that serves a selection of delicious finger sandwiches, cakes, and pastries."
"Oh, that sounds delightful. Doesn't it, Frank?"
"Yes, it does," I say with a smile. "Let's go."
The three of us leave the hospital and we hail for a taxi to take us to Mayfair.