Sam left shortly after the sound of splashing and badly mangled pop songs were heard coming from the bathroom. Nics couldn't think of a message to give him to tell either the silversmith or his master, so she just told him that the messages had been received and understood. Then, making sure the locket and mother-of-pearl oval were safely locked in her jewellery box, she went to bed.
When Nics opened the door to let Sam out, she didn't notice that down in the gutter by the road, was a very small mouse body. A mouse with a tiny corner of envelope still caught tight in its little teeth.
Spud hung around the living room, whistling idly to himself, looking for his lighter and taking occasional bites out of the chocolate Big Ben. The television had given up on the Antiques Roadshow omnibus, and was now showing camel racing, live from Saudi Arabia. He switched off abruptly after a flying inflatable banana was shown bouncing through the crowd.
The next morning Nics got up to work like usual. But she was back home again an hour later, with melted snow on the shoulders of her coat and shaking her head in bewilderment.
"It's the damndest thing," she said to Spud, who'd fallen asleep on the living room sofa again. "No one could get into work. Freak localised snowstorm."
"In June?!" said Spud incredulously.
"They're saying it's all to do with global warming. Or maybe marsh gas. On the plus side though, it's a day off work with pay," she said, looking cheerful.
Chas chose that moment to stagger downstairs, looking like he’d not so much dressed as thrown clothes on and partially missed. He made a beeline for the kettle, answering all inquiries in monosyllables until he'd made and downed three cups of coffee in rapid succession.
"What's up with you?" asked Nics.
"Didn't sleep, bad dreams," Chas grumbled.
"If you didn't sleep, how did you have bad dreams?" asked Spud.
Chas growled at him, and Spud decided that there was something very urgent that he had to do up in his room.
The doorbell rang. Amazingly enough given the amount of traffic that had been tromping its way up to their door for the past few days, this was the first time that morning. And it was past ten o'clock.
Nics went to open it. It wasn't a pizza deliveryman either.
On the doorstep stood a petite middle-aged woman with short brown hair. She wore jeans and a white buttoned shirt and carried a small rucksack slung over one shoulder. A gold heraldic lion broach with a sparkling ruby eye was very out of place pinned to her neat, but otherwise boring coat. The backpack was squirming slightly.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Barbra Allen. I’ve been sent around to collect something?"
"Sure, from the Agency, right?" said Nics. "Come in. Would you like some coffee, or something to drink?"
"No, thank you," said Barbra.
Nics showed her into the living room.
"If you'll excuse me a minute," she said to Barbra, "I'll just go fetch the others."
Chas was looking a bit more human, though ever so slightly wired on coffee. Spud stuck his head around his bedroom door, looking very dishevelled.
"I'll be with you in a moment," he said, and pulled his head back behind the door again.
"But Spud, we need you to identify this woman!" cried Nics through the closed door. "For Christ's sake, you're the sodding secret agent around here, not us!"
No reply. She stomped down the stairs again in bad humour.
Chas was already in the living room, staring intently at Barbra with a vaguely puzzled look. She took it very calmly, her dark blue eyes placid and undisturbed.
Nics shuddered, like a duck had just walked over her grave. There was something wrong about that woman.
"So," said Barbra. "Let's cut to the chase, as I'm sure you're both very busy people. Where is the locket?"
"If you don't mind," said Chas, "we'd like to ask you a few questions first."
"Of course," she said, making herself comfortable in the armchair. "What would you like to know?"
"What can you tell us about the locket?" asked Chas.
"Well," she said, "if it's the same locket that we think it is, then it belonged to April Upton-Baxter, our most valued agent. She did a lot of work for us during the war and was really something special when it came to our more covert operations."
"Covert operations?" asked Chas.
"An example," Barbra said, touching her fingertips together in front of her face and taking on a lecturing tone of voice.
"Her last mission, the mission where she lost the locket in the first place, was to a secret base in Germany, where Nazi scientists were working on a top secret weapon that could have changed the entire path that the war took. As far as we know, she stole the blueprints of the weapon, destroyed the lab and what research she couldn't take with her and escaped with them on a submarine to America. Unfortunately, the submarine ran into a U-boat pack and was destroyed. April managed to escape, but the locket went down with the ship. It wasn't very long before she herself vanished in mysterious circumstances.
"There you go," Barbra said, "the history of the locket as we know it."
"But why is the locket so important?" challenged Chas.
"Because," said Barbra, without any touch of irritation or aggravation, "we believe that she hid the plans for the secret weapon inside the locket. Or at least there may be a clue in it as to the location of the plans, because she might have hidden them somewhere before fleeing.
"May I see the locket?" she asked again.
"Hang on just a second," said Nics. Shooting a quick glance at Chas, she got up and left the room. Chas waited a moment and followed her, catching up with her on the stairs.
"I don't trust her," he hissed. Nics nodded in agreement.
“There’s something not quite right about her,” she whispered.
“Spud!!" she yelled up the stairs. "Get your arse down here!"
A muffled shout of "hang on a minute" came through the door of Spud's room.
Nics went up and got the locket, leaving the mother-of-pearl oval where it was. On impulse, Chas grabbed it, and shoved it far down into the arm of his cast, pulling his shirtsleeve down to cover it.
Nics and Chas were just about to go back into the living room when Spud came galloping down the stairs.
"Wait! You guys!" he called breathless.
Nics froze with her hand on the door handle, turning towards him.
"This just got faxed through," Spud said, handing Chas a sheet of bright pink paper.
The message was terse and very brief.
"Imperative that you keep locket and contents safe and leave area immediately. Help is on the way."
It was signed J. Bradford (deceased).
The living room door opened up behind them, and Barbra stood in the doorway, holding under one arm a duck with its bill taped shut, and its wings and feet taped tight to its body. Her other hand held a gun, complete with silencer, pointed firmly at Nics' back.
Quick as a flash Nics shoved the locket into the waistband of her trousers.
"Oh dear," Barbra said, her eyes glinting hard, like steel. "And I was so hoping that you would believe my little story. Turn around, slowly. And all three of you, into the living room, now!"
She waved her gun at them, and stepped back. Carefully, the three young people shuffled their way into the living room, Spud in particular looking very scared indeed.
"Sit down," she ordered them. "And keep your hands where I can see them."
"Now," she said, carefully placing the duck on the coffee table. "Hand over the locket."
"No," said Chas, and Nics looked at him in surprise, because there was pure steel in his voice.
"So sure?" Barbra asked, in a voice so sweet that it could cause cavities. "What's the locket to you, anyway?"
"It's mine, that's what," said Chas.
Nics and Spud were staring at him like he had gone completely mad.
"For God's sake, give her the stupid bloody locket!!" hissed Spud.
"Some secret agent you are," retorted Chas.
"There's someone with a gun pointed at us, and you're being stupid!!" cried Spud.
Nics just bit her lip, the locket tight and cold against her waist.
"Shut up, the pair of you," said Barbra, her voice icy. "You have one more chance before I start making a rather bloody mess in here. I can always kill you and take the locket from your corpses."
"You won't find it - it's hidden," said Nics, but it was pure bravado, and she knew it.
"Really?" asked Barbra, one eyebrow arched. "We'll just see about that. And just to show I really mean business..." She levelled the gun at the duck, whose eyes rolled in terror as it squirmed on the coffee table.
Several things then proceeded to happen all at once. Barbra's finger tightened on the trigger. Spud dove for the ground. Chas made a lunge for the duck. And Nics sneezed and the living room window exploded inward.
Barbra flinched, and the silent shot missed, ploughing into the carpeted floor. Three ducks came flying in through the window, straight into her face, knocking her backwards and off balance.
Spud rose up from the floor like an avenging angel and walloped her one in the mouth. She staggered back, slipping on the dried egg and mango chutney stain on the carpet, to land heavily with her head cracking against the wall.
Chas grabbed the tied up duck like a rugby ball and ran out of the living room, Nics on his heels. The three attack ducks landed on Barbra's face, pecking her viciously.
Spud looked around, mainly to see if anyone had witnessed his moment of fighting glory.
"Hey, wait for me!!" he called after the other two.
Chas slammed open the front door and was down the drive, running like he was back on the rugby pitch. Nics followed, clutching the locket tight against her skin.
A loud, urgent bark sounded from the corner.
"Chas!" yelled Nics, "it's Sam!"
And sure enough it was, and he was standing in front of a black taxi cab, which had the door open and the engine running.
Chas altered his speed and direction, and dove into the taxi. Nics, Sam and Spud all piled in after him, slamming the open door shut.
"Why aren't you moving?" cried Spud to the taxi driver, when all four were in.
"Wait!" said Nics, hastily winding down the passenger window. "They're on their way!"
The three attack ducks flew in formation out the front door, and into the taxi through the open window.
No sooner had they landed inside than the taxi driver took off in a squeal of rubber, and they were away.
Nics very carefully started peeling the tape off the captured duck, making soothing noises to it, while the other three ducks looked on anxiously. Chas tapped the glass separating the driver from the passengers.
"'Scuse me, mate, but where are we going?"
There was no reply, so Chas reached through the gap in the glass that was used to hand over payment for fares, and tapped the driver on the shoulder.
"Bloody hell!" He recoiled violently.
"What?" asked Spud.
"The taxi driver's made of rubber!" Chas exclaimed.
One of the three attack ducks looked at him balefully and quacked.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak duck," Chas said to it. "Where the hell are we going?!?!"
"To the airport it looks like," said Spud, who had been paying attention to the road signs.
"Why the hell are we going to the airport?!" yelled Chas.
Sam picked up an envelope in his mouth, and gave it to Chas. Chas tore it open to reveal four airplane tickets and a small note.
"Oh," he said, somewhat quieter.
"What?" asked Nics, who had managed to remove all the tape from the captured duck without taking too many feathers with it. The duck looked at her and quacked in gratitude, before waddling rather stiffly over to its comrades.
Chas handed the note over to her wordlessly.
"Oh," she said.
"What?" said Spud, bouncing up and down with impatience. "Does it tell us why we're going to the airport."
"We're going to New York," said Nics.
"That's nice," said Spud. "I've never been to New York before."
Chas was fuming, staring moodily out of the window.
"Does it say why we're going to New York?" asked Spud.
"We're going to see a man about a clock," said Nics.
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