Goldwhiskers Read Free

trip to London wasn’t just a holiday, though. She had an appointment with Sir Edmund Hazelnut-Cadbury, head of MICE-6. She reached down into the shoe’s secret compartment and pulled out her backpack. Made from the thumb of a mitten, it contained her skateboard, a letter to Sir Edmund from her boss, Julius Folger, and a brand-new acquisition from the Spy Museum’s collection. Anglo-American mice relations were strong, and the two agencies freely shared intelligence, gadgets and mousepower as they worked to keep their world safe from the likes of Dupont and Piccadilly.
    Glory shouldered her backpack. She had highhopes for this visit. A holiday, yes – but possibly a little more than that too. If she played her cards right, Christmas in London could herald the beginning of a glamorous overseas posting. And Glory dearly wanted a glamorous overseas posting.
    â€˜We’d better go,’ said Oz. ‘They’re going to wonder where I disappeared to.’
    Glory climbed on to Oz’s waiting palm. He lifted his hand to his chest, and she somersaulted expertly into the pocket of his shirt. Oz put his shoe back on and went to rejoin his parents and DB.
    â€˜Everything OK?’ whispered his classmate as Oz’s parents whisked them through customs and outside to the waiting limousine. Oz gave her a thumbs-up and pointed to his shirt pocket.
    The limo’s smooth, sedate pace quickly lulled Oz’s mother to sleep. Her head slumped back against the bear-like arm her husband had draped round her shoulders, and her mouth fell open. The world-famous diva let out a gentle snore. DB giggled.
    â€˜I still can’t believe my parents let me come,’ she said to Oz, bouncing in her seat. The profusion of tiny braids that covered her head bounced too. ‘This is so awesome.’
    Oz stared at his classmate. He’d never seen DB this excited – or this happy. Usually she had no problem finding something to complain about. This new and improved DB was a little unnerving.
    As they drew closer to the city, familiar landmarks began to appear.
    â€˜Look!’ squealed DB. ‘There’s Big Ben!’
    Oz craned his neck for a better view of the enormous clock tower atop the Houses of Parliament. Luigi Levinson smiled. ‘Excited, kids?’
    Oz and DB both nodded.
    â€˜We’ll get some breakfast at the hotel, then go exploring,’ Oz’s father promised. ‘I think the folks at the Royal Opera have some kind of tour planned for us while your mother is in rehearsal.’
    â€˜I can’t wait to see the Crown Jewels!’ said DB. ‘Do you think we could go there first?’
    Oz grunted. DB hadn’t shut up about the Crown Jewels since leaving Washington. ‘What’s so special about a bunch of jewellery?’
    DB gaped at him. ‘Oz, this is hardly “a bunch of jewellery”,’ she snapped, sounding much more like her usual self. She flipped open a guidebook and thrust it under his nose. ‘We’re talking crowns worn by centuries of kings and queens here. We’re talkingdiamonds and sapphires and rubies bigger than you-know-who.’ She gave a significant nod towards the small lump nestled in Oz’s shirt pocket. ‘Plus, they’re kept in the Tower of London, where they used to chop people’s heads off.’
    Oz shrugged. ‘I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing that,’ he said grudgingly. Personally, he was looking forward to the James Bond walking tour. He’d read about it in one of his mother’s guidebooks. London was Agent 007’s home base.
    Crown jewels, castles, walking tours – whatever they did, London was going to be great, Oz thought happily. After all, London was 3,000 miles away from Washington DC, and Chester B. Arthur Elementary School. London was 3,000 miles away from the sharks.
    That’s what Oz called the bullies at his school – including Jordan Scott and Sherman