A. N. T. I. D. O. T. E. (2 page)

That was it! The battle was well and truly lost! Mum turned up the volume as a presenter on the TV stood with a microphone in her hand, facing the camera.

‘
Today, the environmental pressure group ANTIDOTE – or Action Now Thwarts Immoral Destruction Of The Environment – launched another demonstration against the chemical company, Shelby and Pardela Pharmaceuticals. The chief executive of ANTIDOTE, Sarah Irving, insisted that ANTIDOTE have acquired information proving that Shelby and Pardela are experimenting on rare and exotic animals, smuggled illegally into this country. I asked the co-chairman of Shelby’s, Mr Marcus Pardela, for his comments on these allegations
.’

The scene cut to Marcus Pardela himself, a tall, broad-shouldered man with mid-brown hair, wearing a dark blue suit entering the Shelby and Pardela building. He was asked something which was lost under the commentary of some other wittering journalist, something which obviously made him angry. He turned to the camera, his eyes blazing.

‘
I’ve never heard such arrant nonsense. And what’s more, I shall be contacting my lawyers and instructing them to sue Sarah Irving and her so-called protest organization ANTIDOTE for slander. My company has never and will never use rare animals in experiments. At the very least Sarah Irving has been misinformed. Now if you’ll excuse me
.’ And with that, Marcus Pardela pushed past the reporters surrounding him and entered the building.

I couldn’t help smiling. My Uncle Robert worked for ANTIDOTE and he was always moaning about the way the TV and the newspapers reported his organization’s activities. That last report was bound to have him complaining about how Marcus Pardela and not ANTIDOTE was given the last word.

‘What d’you think of that?’ Mum asked me.

‘Of what?’

‘That news item about ANTIDOTE.’

‘Uncle will be pleased to see ANTIDOTE in the news again,’ I shrugged.

‘I didn’t mean that. I was talking about ANTIDOTE demonstrating against Shelby and Pardela Pharmaceuticals,’
Mum
continued.

I frowned at her, surprised at the question. ‘It’s got nothing to do with me.’

Mum shook her head. ‘Yes, it does, Elliot. We each have to take responsibility for the world we live in.’

‘But I can’t do much about it,’ I protested.

‘Why not?’

‘I’m just a kid.’

‘So how old do you think you have to be before you can make a difference?’ Mum asked.

‘I don’t know. Besides, one person can’t really make that much of a difference, can they?’ I shrugged again.

‘Elliot, one person can make a lot of difference. All the difference in the world. I’ve told you that often enough,’ Mum said urgently.

I wrinkled up my nose. Mum and I had argued about this so many times before and I really didn’t want to discuss it again. Mum seemed to think that I could set off in the morning, move Mount Everest to Australia all by myself and be home in time for dinner – all I had to do was want it enough!

‘Mum, why are you a secretary?’ I asked, remembering my lesson earlier.

Mum turned to look at me. She had a strange, wary frown on her face. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘But you’ve told me you weren’t always a secretary.’

‘So?’

‘So what did you do before?’

‘A bit of this. A bit of that …’

‘What does that mean?’ It was like trying to get blood out of a stone!

‘It means it’s time for your bed,’ Mum said decisively.

‘Just tell me what you did before you were a secretary and then I’ll go to bed,’ I cajoled.

‘Elliot, some other time. I’m very tired,’ Mum sighed. ‘Now off you go and clean your teeth – and try cleaning the ones at the back of your mouth as well as the ones at the front. They need love and attention too.’

I stood up and walked slowly to the living-room door before turning back to Mum. A deep frown crept across my face. I’d only just realized something.

‘Why is it that whenever I ask you about what you did before you were a secretary, you always change the subject and try to shut me up?’

‘I don’t.’ Mum raised her eyebrows.

‘Oh, yes you do. You always do it.’

‘You’re imagining things.’

‘I don’t think so.’

Mum studied me, then sighed again. ‘If you must know, I used to work for the government.’

‘Doing what?’ I moved closer.

‘Special operations.’

‘What does that mean?’Whatever it was, it sounded really exciting.

‘It means I signed the Official Secrets Act so I’m not
supposed
to talk about it,’ Mum replied. ‘I’m not trying to be deliberately vague. It’s just I’m not meant to discuss it, even with my son.’

I walked back into the room and sat down on the arm of the sofa. Mum didn’t shout at me to sit down properly the way she usually did.

‘Was it something top secret and exciting and dangerous?’ I asked, hopefully.

‘No, dear,’ Mum laughed. ‘It was dull and tedious and very boring. That’s why I left. I had to retrieve and file documents mostly.’

My shoulders slumped with disappointment. ‘Oh, is that all?’

‘Yep! That’s all. Now off you go, Elliot.’ Mum smiled. ‘I’ll be up in a minute.’

I left the room and trudged up the stairs. All things considered, I knew I should be grateful that Mum at least had a job. A lot of my friends had parents who were out of work. But I must admit, I couldn’t help thinking,
wishing
– if only …

I REACHED THE
landing when the doorbell rang. I turned round to answer it but Mum beat me to it.

‘It’s OK. You go and clean your teeth,’ Mum called up to me.

But I hung around. I wanted to see who it was first. Mum opened the door.

‘Uncle Robert!’ I dashed down the stairs. ‘Hi, Uncle Robert. How’re you doing?’

‘How am I doing what?’ Uncle Robert grinned.

I laughed, even though Uncle Robert always says that when I ask him how he’s doing. ‘I didn’t know you were back in the country. When did you arrive? What were you working on this time? Was it exciting? Did you …?’

‘Er … Elliot, that’s enough. Your bed is calling to you. Your questions will have to wait till the next time Uncle Robert comes round,’ said Mum.

‘But …’

‘Don’t worry, Elliot. I’ll be round at the weekend and
then
I’ll tell you all about it. In the meantime, I’ve got you a present,’ winked Uncle Robert.

‘You have? Great!’ I looked at Uncle’s hands which were both empty. ‘Where is it?’

‘Elliot!’ Mum frowned.

I know I was being a bit what I would call eager and Mum would call rude, but presents are presents! Uncle Robert tilted back his head and roared with laughter. He dug into his inside jacket pocket and brought out an envelope. He made to hand over the envelope, but snatched it back before I’d barely touched it.

‘Have you still got all the other games I’ve brought you?’ asked Uncle Robert.

‘Of course.’

‘Finished them?’

‘Naturally!’

What a question! Of course I’d finished them! Mum wasn’t the only one in the family who could find her way around a computer. In fact sometimes – well, just occasionally when she was playing one of my games! – she had to ask me how to do things.

‘You won’t finish this one,’ said Uncle Robert confidently. ‘This game is my best one ever.’

‘What kind is it?’ I jumped up and snatched the envelope out of Uncle’s hand. I tore it open. It contained a CD labelled Elliot.

‘I’m not telling you that. That’s for you to find out – hot shot!’ Uncle laughed.

‘But not now,’ said Mum quickly. ‘You can find out tomorrow night after you’ve done your homework.’

‘But can’t I even …’

‘No, Elliot. I mean it,’ said Mum firmly.

Mum had that glinty, steely look in her eyes. I knew better than to argue.

‘Oh, all right.’ I turned to Uncle Robert. ‘Thanks for the game. I can’t wait to try it.’

I began to run up the stairs, before I remembered something. ‘Uncle Robert, what’s it called?’

‘Huh?’

‘The game?’

Uncle Robert considered for a moment. ‘You’ve got to discover that for yourself,’ he said at last. ‘That’s the whole point of the game.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘That’s different.’

‘Good night, Elliot.’ Uncle Robert smiled.

‘’Night, Uncle. ’Night, Mum.’ And off I went to clean my teeth.

I gave my mouth a quick final rinse before straightening up to check my teeth in the mirror before me. I was surprised and then not surprised to find myself frowning. What kind of game was it where the point of the game was to find out the
name
of the game? I’d never heard of that one before – but I liked it! I admit it, I was intrigued. Uncle Robert designed and programmed games for me in his spare time and I loved it. To have a game designed just for me was so …
awesome
! And my friends at school were always impressed too. It also meant that I was in every one. In each game, the hero of the story was a boy called Elliot! So far Uncle Robert had designed three different games for me, each one harder than the last. I’d battled dinosaurs, fought my way past dragons and rescued colonists on a doomed planet. I couldn’t wait to see what Uncle Robert had in store for me this time. But I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how the game might work. If I quickly loaded it up now, I could at least check the game’s format. That wouldn’t take
too
long …

It was no good! I just had to load it up now. I couldn’t wait till the morning to see what kind of game it was. I had my own computer, but it was slow. Just about good enough for homework; but to do justice to a new state-of-the-art game, I’d need the power of Mum’s computer. I’d have to be careful that Mum didn’t catch me – not after she’d told me to go straight to bed. I knew if Mum caught me she would go ballistic to say the least, but I couldn’t help it. I was desperate to try it out. I tiptoed out of the bathroom and across the landing to my bedroom to get the disc.

‘I’ll only be on Mum’s PC for five minutes. Just five minutes,’ I muttered, already working out my excuses in case Mum caught me.

But I didn’t make it to my bedroom. Raised voices reached me from downstairs. I stopped and looked over
the
banister. I couldn’t believe it, but Mum and Uncle Robert were
arguing
. I’d never,
ever
heard them argue before. I crept down the stairs. Mum and Uncle Robert were in the living room and the door was shut but as I reached the hall, snatches of their conversation echoed out to me.

‘ANTIDOTE needs your help, Lisa. I need your help.
Please
!’ Uncle Robert’s voice was a mixture of frustration and entreaty.

‘… No!
No! NO
! How many more times?’ Mum replied furiously. ‘I gave all that up when Elliot was born. I’m not getting back into it now.’

‘But we need you …’

‘So does Elliot. No!’

‘If I do this job alone, I’ll be found out in less than a minute,’ said Uncle Robert. ‘You’re the expert, not me.’

‘Expert? Yeah, right! What did it ever get me? Nothing. And where did it ever get me? Nowhere. I’m not doing it, Robert, and that’s final.’ Mum’s voice was bitter.

Stunned, I moved in closer towards the living-room door.

‘Just look at the data on this memory stick – that’s all I ask,’ Uncle Robert pleaded.

‘Why? I won’t change my mind,’ said Mum.

‘Lisa, this data is important. It was smuggled out of Shelby’s two days ago,’ Uncle Robert began.

‘I’m not interested.’

I recognized Mum’s tone. When she was in that kind of mood, nothing short of a truckload of Semtex could shift her.

‘Lisa, they
are
performing experiments on illegally imported, rare animals in that building. It goes on in their top-security lab down in the basement. This data refers to it – but it’s not enough. Someone needs to get into Shelby’s and film what’s going on,’ said Uncle Robert.

‘I’m not doing it, Robert. And you have no right to ask me.’ Mum’s voice was so low, I had to strain to hear it. I took another step towards the door.

‘Lisa, listen. There’s … there’s something else. Some of us at ANTIDOTE have found out that Shelby’s have planted an agent in our organization,’ said Uncle Robert. ‘We managed to get a print-out of a confidential memo, written by Marcus Pardela himself, where he talks about his “mole” in our group.’

At Mum’s stunned gasp, I pressed my ear right up against the cool wooden door.

‘An agent? Are you sure?’ Mum asked.

‘Positive. Someone at ANTIDOTE is secretly working for Shelby’s. I was hoping you’d help us find out who, once this other business is out of the way. Please say you’ll help us. We can’t call in someone from outside in case the news leaks out and damages our organization and we can’t tell too many people in the organization what’s going on in case our “mole” goes underground,’
said
Uncle Robert. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t desperately need you – you know that.’

‘You don’t want much, do you?’ Mum said tersely.

Silence.

‘Who else knows about this confidential letter about the mole?’ asked Mum.

‘Just me, Sarah Irving – she’s chief executive of ANTIDOTE, Ian Macmillan, the general secretary, and Rohan Adjava, the treasurer. Four people – that’s it. And the other three are as anxious as I am to find out who’s betraying us to Shelby’s. But we’ve all agreed that getting proof of Shelby’s experiments on illegally imported animals is our first priority.’

‘Let me see the letter about this so-called agent,’ Mum said.

I straightened up. What on earth was going on? Why did Uncle Robert need Mum’s help? What kind of help? What could Mum do? Uncle Robert called her ‘the expert’. What did that mean? The expert in what? My head was like a beehive, buzzing with questions. It was all quiet in the living room now. I turned to head back to my bedroom and knocked into the hall table. It rocked against the wall with a loud thud. In the next moment, I legged it up the stairs. I was only halfway up when the living-room door opened. Thinking quickly, I turned and ran down the stairs just as Mum and Uncle Robert came out of the living room.