The Case of the Exploding Brains (16 page)

“Something is missing from the cell,” I whisper to Holly.

“Your father’s conscience?” Vigil-Aunty is clearly feeling better.

“It’s very small,” Holly says.

“Your father’s conscience?” Vigil-Aunty is on a roll. Shame it’s a not-very-funny roll.

“Holly’s talking about the cell,” I say. “And she’s right. It’s tiny. So isn’t it weird that Dad’s not using all the space available to
pace?”

Neither of them are listening, but it helps me think when I voice my ideas aloud. “Also, how does he sit at that desk?”

“Maybe he pulls the bed over?” Holly tilts her head to one side to view the screen, as if things will be clearer if they’re diagonal.

“No. The bed’s cemented to the floor. Look!” I point to it. “So is the desk. It’s not like the cell’s stuffed with furniture. Why would you have a desk
without a chair?”

“Sounds like the start of a joke,” Vigil-Aunty yawns and heads back towards the wait-and-return taxi.

“It’s not a joke. There
was
a chair. Someone said something about chairs earlier.” I wish I could remember things I’ve heard in the same way I can remember
things I’ve seen. The memory comes to me eventually, but it takes a while. “It was the guy that answered the prison phone. He said something about all the prisoners having a spare
blanket
on their chair
.”

“Someone must have taken the chair out.” Holly checks her watch and moves to follow Vigil-Aunty.

“Or maybe they didn’t.”

“What are you talki—” Holly stops short as Dad cries out in pain.

We stare at the screen.

“Thankyouverymuch,” I mutter to the guard and grab Holly by the arm, pulling her away before she can say anything.

I don’t say a word in front of Vigil-Aunty, but when we get home I copy out my list of important clues and feel pretty confident of my new theory.

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For a moment, I wonder whether to keep my theories to myself. I’ve often wished I could turn back time so I could step aside and let Dad escape jail, like Porter did for his mum. Why
should Ms Grimm be allowed to walk around freely when Dad’s trapped in prison, being battered by his fellow inmates? (That’s ‘battered’ like a punch bag, not a piece of
haddock.)

But it wouldn’t just be Dad escaping this time, would it? Three blankets = three escapees. I don’t want to be responsible for Dad spending more time in prison, but I can’t
stand by and let him fill the streets with escapee Neanderthugs.

I slide my theory pages towards Holly. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Easy,” she says. “Report him.”

“No!” I protest. “That would get him in trouble with the guards
and
the prisoners. I can’t do that to him.”

“I’ll do it then.”

“If you do, I’ll never forgive you.” I shouldn’t feel this loyal to Dad, but I do. Evolutionary genetics, I suppose.

“You’d choose Dad over me?” She punches my arm.

“Ouch! He’s not asking me to watch you suffer, whereas you’re asking me to stand by while he gets beaten to a pulp. So, I choose to have no one suffering, if that’s okay
with you?” I take a few deep breaths. “Besides, if we betray him like that he’ll never tell us what he knows about the stolen Space Rock.”

“He’s showing no signs of telling us anything anyway, so I’m fine with a bit of betrayal.”

Holly and I stand on opposite sides of the room, glaring at each other.

We both jump as Mum rises to her feet and picks up the phone. Oops. Forgot she was there again.

“Hello. Yes. This is Mrs Hawkins. Wife of Professor Brian ‘Big Brain’ Hawkins. My husband has asked me to report an escape attempt . . . Yes, he’s pretending to be part
of it so he can help bring these dangerous men to justice.”

Holly and I stare at her, mouths like slack-jawed goldfish.

Mum puts the phone down and laughs at our expressions. “It was the obvious solution. This way we can prevent the break-out without implicating your father. In fact, if he manages things
properly and doesn’t give himself away, he could come out of this the hero.”

We continue staring.

“Wow, Mum,” Holly murmurs eventually. “Just wow!”

“Save your ‘wows’ for later.” Mum drops back down on to the sofa with a yawn. “There’s plenty of time for your father to mess things up. And you’ve
still got your exploding brains to worry about.”

Days Left to Save the Earth: 2

The Prison Governors won’t let us watch the prison break
live
because it would be a ‘security risk’. But they finally agree to allow PC Eric to show
us the footage
after the event
, which will feel live to us because no one’s telling us what’s happening.

I don’t know why they’re being so secretive. They wouldn’t even know about the break-out if it wasn’t for us. Plus it was my idea to cover the soles of the
Neanderthugs’ shoes with paint so the cameras could track their escape route.

The Governors have promised Dad’s sentence will be reduced as a reward for (cough)
his
part in stopping the escape attempt. They’ve also guaranteed he’ll be protected
from the Neanderthugs.

“What if they don’t keep to the agreement?” I snap as we wait for PC Eric to arrive with the footage. “What if Dad doesn’t play along when the guards thank him for
the ‘tip-off’? What if someone gets hurt? What will Dad say when he realises we’ve ruined his escape plan? And what on earth does this have to do with the Space Rock?
Pythagoras!
This is a disaster. I wish I hadn’t shared my theories.”

If I’d kept my mouth shut, Dad might have escaped by now. Admittedly, he’d have released a couple of dangerous Neanderthugs in the process, but his documentary suggested the
Neanderthugs are so stupid that they’d probably get caught doing something criminal and be back in prison within the year.

“Don’t be stroppy,” Holly says stroppily. “None of this would be necessary if you’d just let Dad carry out his evil escape plans and face the
consequences.”

“Dad’s not evil, he’s just a bit selfish and obsessed with his inventions. You can’t seriously expect me to leave him at the mercy of the Neanderthugs? He doesn’t
deserve that.”

“I don’t see why not,” Holly says. “He’s happy to leave everyone else at their mercy by breaking them out of jail.”

“That’s different,” I protest, although I’m not quite sure how.

“Completely different,” Holly agrees. “The people on the street are innocent, Dad created his own problems and deserves whatever he gets.”

“Saved by the doorbell,” I mutter as PC Eric arrives with a USB stick.

I drag him straight to the computer. Time for chatting afterwards. The time code shows this was filmed four hours ago:

“Why are there no guards?” Porter asks PC Eric. “None of this would be possible if there were guards watching them.”

“Guards aren’t considered necessary in areas completely covered by cameras,” PC Eric explains. “But there are guards at every important entrance and exit.”

“So how are they planning to get out?”

“Keep watching,” PC Eric says.

PC Eric points to the screen as three men in Mobi-tech overalls enter the corridor. “These three were brought in to the prison to update the security system.” He pauses as the men
wave in the direction of the footprints. “Turns out they know your father.”

I wonder if this is what Dad meant when he talked about teaching his fellow inmates ‘a bit of ICT’.

“Surely they’re going to run into guards soon,” Porter says. “Then what? They’re visible to the human eye. They can’t just walk out of jail wrapped in
blankets.”

“Dad will have a plan,” I declare confidently. “He’ll have invented a tunnelling machine out of a fork, a battery and some breakfast cereal.”

“Dad’s not in charge here, Know-All,” Holly says. “The Neanderthugs are. The solution is going to be something more brutal.”

PC Eric gives her one of the aren’t-you-clever looks he usually saves for me.

I stare at the screen.

Three Mobi-tech men.

Three men in Stealth Blankets.

My stomach sinks. If Holly’s right, I can guess what’s coming next.