Your mum’s been caught on CCTV, breaking into a giant chemical company. They say she’s working undercover for A.N.T.I.D.O.T.E, a group against animal testing – but how is that possible? She’s not a spy – is she?

Now she’s on the run – and only you can uncover the truth. And you’ve got to crack a code to do it.

For Neil and Lizzy, with love

Prologue

I’m in deep
, deep
trouble. And like the biggest fool in the universe, I’m about to wade out even deeper still. But I don’t have any choice
.

Because they’ve got my mum
.

I’ve been warned that I’ll never see her again if I try anything – anything at all. I know they’re watching me so I’m having to think fast. All I’ve managed to come up with so far is this. It’s not perfect, it’s not ideal – it’s not even clever, really – but it’s all I can think of
.

I’m going to record the whole story on Mum’s computer – then back it up onto a CD-ROM and give it to Nosh with a message saying, ‘If anything should happen to me …
’

When people do that in films, I always think ‘Yeah, right!’ It’s such a cliché
!

If anything should happen to me
…

In the films they always know that something
is
going to happen to them. Why else would they leave those kinds of instructions? But in my case, I really don’t know what’s going to happen. I wish I did. Even if it’s going to be something … bad, I wish I knew
.

Not
knowing is the worst thing in the world. With everything that’s happened, I daren’t even hope. I can appreciate now how Marie Antoinette felt in her prison cell, waiting to have her head lopped off
.

I don’t have much time. It’s very hard to try and sort out my thoughts, but I must. It’s difficult when all I keep thinking is that if certain people have their way, in a few hours’ time, Mum and I will ‘disappear’ – never to be seen again. So I’d better get this right. I’ll make sure that if Mum and I do ‘disappear’, then those responsible don’t get away with it. I’ll tell everything as best I can – just as it happened
.

Everything
.

It’s Wednesday now. Late afternoon. Ten past five. Seventeen-ten hours exactly. I’ve got four hours before they come for me. So here goes
.

This all started six days ago
.

Six days ago, on Thursday
.

Thursday
Chapter One
The Dreaded Question

I CHEWED ON
my pencil, deep in thought. Mr Oakley was only three away from asking me the dreaded question. What was I going to say?

‘Your turn, Ann. What does your mum do for a living?’ asked Mr Oakley.

I switched my pencil from one side of my mouth to the other and carried on chewing. I gazed out of the classroom window in a bit of a wistful haze – I admit it!

… My mum’s a squadron leader in the SAS
.
She rescued the Prime Minister when he was kidnapped a few months ago and no one ever heard about it ’cause Mum was on a top-secret mission
.

‘My mum can’t find a job, sir. She’s on the dole,’Ann replied to the teacher’s question.

One down, two more to go. And then …

‘And you, Shula? What about your mum? What does she do?’ asked Mr Oakley.

I drifted back into my daydream again, answering the teacher’s question in my head.

My
mum’s about to be signed up by Arsenal football club. She’s going to be their first ever woman centre forward …

‘Mum works at the BBC. She produces radio programmes for the radio,’ Shula preened.

‘Well, she wouldn’t produce radio programmes for the TV, would she?’ Harrison muttered from beside me. ‘Rotten poser!’

Harrison (or Nosh as everyone calls him) wasn’t the only one muttering under his breath. Everyone in the class had heard about Shula’s mum and her job and the mega amounts of money she got paid and the stars she’d had lunch with – until we were all sick up to the eyebrows of hearing it!

‘She gets really well paid and she …’

‘Yes, Shula. I think we get the idea,’ said Mr Oakley, moving on quickly. ‘Your turn, Nosh. What does your mum do?’

I smiled – miles away – as I considered another possibility.

My mum’s going to be the first person on Mars. Her spaceship leaves from Brighton tomorrow morning at dawn …

Yeah …That’s what my mum should do. If only …

‘Sir, my mum says she’s a domestic technical engineer,’ Nosh said proudly.

My ears pricked up. That sounded interesting. I didn’t know Nosh’s mum did anything like that.

‘Oh, yes? What’s a domestic technical engineer?’ Mr Oakley asked.

‘It’s what’s otherwise known as a housewife!’ Nosh grinned.

The rest of the class tittered. I elbowed Nosh in the ribs for being such a twerp!

‘But Mum says she prefers the fancy title!’ Nosh added.

‘Hhmm!’ Mr Oakley smiled but said nothing else. He turned to me. I swallowed hard. My turn now. What should I say? How could I put it so that it’d be exciting, interesting,
world-shattering
…

‘Elliot?’ Mr Oakley prompted.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Your mum?’ asked the teacher. ‘What does she do for a living?’

‘My mum …’ I sighed inwardly. My voice lowered with dejection. ‘Mum’s a secretary.’

‘Good!’ Already Mr Oakley was moving on to the next person.

I slumped in my chair, my head resting on my cupped hand.

A secretary!

That was about as interesting as stale bread. I scowled, imagining Mum’s face before me. As soon as I got home I was going to have to speak to Mum about changing her job! She should be doing something more adventurous, something more … exciting!

Now that he’d asked the entire class, Mr Oakley started dribbling on about the various roles women
played
in the current economy compared to centuries past. It was a close-run thing, but even the lesson was probably more interesting than Mum’s job! I decided that when I got home, Mum and I were definitely going to have a serious talk!

Chapter Two
Elliot, You’re Cute!

‘
YOU’RE NOT WATCHING
that, are you?’ Mum flopped down onto the sofa and reached for the remote control. Without waiting for my reply she switched TV channels.

‘Mum! Yes, I was watching that film actually,’ I spluttered.

‘But the news is on.’ Mum settled back against the cushions, kicked off her shoes and studied the TV screen intently.

‘Mum!’ I said, annoyed.

‘Yes, dear?’

I sighed with impatience. Every evening when Mum came home it was always the same thing. We’d have dinner, she’d work for an hour on her PC, then she’d plonk herself down on the sofa, kick off her shoes and flick over until she came to a channel – somewhere – that was showing the news.

‘Mum – the film?’ I tried again, knowing I was fighting a losing battle.

‘Just a minute, Elliot. I want to see what’s happening in the world,’ said Mum.

‘But it’s so depressing.’

‘And watching that film with people being shot at left, right and centre isn’t?’ asked Mum.

‘At least the film isn’t real.’

‘Elliot, you’re cute, but you should take more notice of what’s going on in the world around you.’

I slumped back in my chair. ‘Mum, I wish you wouldn’t call me that …’

‘Call you what?’

‘Cute!’ I said with disgust. ‘You’re always telling me I’m cute. And yesterday you called me that in front of Nosh.’

‘But you are cute, Elliot,’ Mum smiled.

‘Mum …’

‘OK! OK! I won’t show you up in public any more. But only if I can still call you cute in private.’ Mum grinned.

I shook my head. Mum was definitely in one of her funny-peculiar moods!

‘Why don’t you go for a walk or something?’ Mum suggested. ‘You could do with the exercise.’

‘I’m fit enough, thank you,’ I sulked.

‘I think I should buy you a dog for your birthday.’ Mum carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘At least that way you’d have to go to the park every day and get some fresh air, instead of staring at the TV or my PC screen all the time.’

‘The park! You must be joking. You know how much I hate the park.’

‘Why? What’s wrong with it? I used to love going to the park when I was your age.’ Mum looked all wistful. ‘I used to love the children’s playground – especially the swings. They were my favourite. What’s your favourite part of the park?’

‘Tony’s fish and chip shop across the road!’ I replied.

Mum laughed. ‘Honestly, Elliot! What am I going to do with you?’

‘Let me watch the rest of the film?’ I tried.

‘After the news,’ Mum said. Then she looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘Wait a minute. Is that the time? You couldn’t have seen the end of that film anyway. It’s getting close to your bedtime.’

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