The Poisoned Arrow (13 page)

Izzy and Jeremy both groaned.

‘Did you even listen to the heats
we
were in?’ said Izzy.

‘Yes!’ I cried. ‘Well, I had the radio on while I was working on some case notes.’

‘Spykeside can’t be using a “buzz in quick” strategy,’ said Izzy, ‘because you lose a point if you get the answer wrong. It’s two points for a right
answer, minus one point for a wrong answer. If they were just making guesses they’d end up with a negative score!’

‘Ah, right, yes, I remember now,’ I said hurriedly, ‘a-hem, yes, a-hem. So what made you suspicious about the Spykeside team in the first place? Did they say something to
you?’

‘No, none of the St Egbert’s team has ever met them,’ said Jeremy.

‘Because it’s a knockout competition,’ said Izzy, ‘there are several teams we’ve not played, and by the luck of the draw Spykeside are one of them. The grand final
on Saturday is the first and only time we’ll get to meet them. We became suspicious simply by listening to the other heats, and to the way Spykeside kept jumping in with correct answers.
After that, I asked around to see if anyone I knew had any contacts at Spykeside. Nobody had, but one of my cousins [Izzy has loads of cousins. Loads. Several hundred, you’d think, judging
from the way her network of cousins was always able to come up trumps.] was at one of the earlier recordings, over at a school near Birmingham. She never got to talk to any of them, but she said
they looked like a bunch of rejects from a gangster movie.’

‘Do we know their names?’ I asked.

‘Unfortunately not,’ said Izzy. ‘For the competition the Spykeside team are using aliases: Superguy, Captain Cool, the Brainiator and Mr Electron.’

‘Oh
yuk
!’ I snorted.

‘Dreadful, right?’ said Izzy. ‘But the radio station seem to think it’s cute, so they’re playing along. The official Brain Boom Schools Quiz Challenge website
includes photos of most of the teams, but Spykeside isn’t included. Spykeside School’s own website doesn’t even mention the quiz – I don’t think it’s been
updated for about two years.’

I adopted a detective-style, deep-thinking expression. ‘That’s very odd,’ I said. ‘It’s almost as if they’re trying to hide their identities.’

‘They’re also being very clever about this whole cheating business,’ said Izzy. ‘They never overdo it. The cheating only becomes noticeable once you start listening for
it. They keep letting the other team get ahead, but then before the end of the quiz they slowly overtake on points with a steady run of correct answers. And now and again they answer a question
with a wildly wrong answer, so it looks like they’re in a panic.’

‘Interesting,’ I muttered. ‘There are some genuine brains at work there, then. Who’s setting the quiz questions?’

‘Someone at Vibe FM,’ said Jeremy. ‘We think it’s probably the DJ who’s being the quizmaster.’

‘And the
big
question,’ I said, ‘the one we’ve not mentioned so far, is: Why cheat? What’s first prize in this competition?’

‘The winning school gets a thousand pounds for their library,’ said Izzy. ‘Each member of the winning team gets a hundred pounds in book vouchers, plus a hundred free music
downloads from Vibe FM, plus a one-year free pass to every theme park and tourist attraction that’s worth going to.’

‘Not bad,’ I said. ‘I guess that lot’s worth cheating for, then. What we need to work out is —’

At that moment, we all heard a distinct scratching noise coming from outside the shed. We froze, listening.

It was a sharp, scraping sound. Someone was beside the door, out of sight of the shed’s perspex window.

Izzy leaned over to me and whispered, ‘I think we’ve been followed.’

I nodded. Jeremy stood there looking terrified.

Slowly, trying to make sure I didn’t creak any floorboards, I crept over to the door. I put my shoulder to it, ready to fling it open and catch whoever-it-was before they could escape.

Had our conversation been overheard? Had the Spykeside team sent someone to spy on us?

I looked back at Izzy. Three . . . Two . . . One . . .
Go!

I crashed open the shed door and bounded outside. I was going to shout ‘
A-ha! Caught you!
’ but what I actually shouted was ‘Whoaaaaa!’

I tripped over a solid mass that was lurking beside the door and went head over heels on to the garden lawn. I spun around. I found myself staring into the wrinkly, snuffly face of
Jeremy’s huge slobbery dog, Humphrey.

‘Jeremy!’ I yelled, as that great drooling hound came lolloping towards me. ‘He’s got out again! Help! Heeeeelp!’

Jeremy caught Humphrey by the collar and started going all huggy cuddly over his wuvvwy poochie-poo. Made me feel ill.

‘Can’t you keep him under control?’ I grumbled, scrambling to my feet before Humphrey could start dribbling on me. ‘That dog escapes and comes looking for you every five
minutes!’

‘He’s a cwevvver doggie, aren’t you, humphy-wumphy,’ said Jeremy.

I hate that dog.

I
SPENT THE EVENING LOGGED
on to the Hear It Again page of Vibe FM’s website, listening to all the quiz heats I’d
missed and making notes. (I tried answering the questions myself as I went along. After only seven heats I’d amassed the same number of correct answers as the St Egbert’s team had
scored in their first round. I was quite pleased with myself.)

Once I’d finished, I could see exactly why Izzy and Jeremy had become suspicious of the Spykeside team. The questions were pretty rapid-fire, so it was easy to miss the fact that Spykeside
were anticipating questions rather too regularly. However, once I’d clicked the rewind button here and there and listened carefully, I could spot the remarkable snappiness of their answers to
questions like that ‘Who was the third actor . . .’ one.

I’d also spotted something else – something Izzy and the rest of the St Egbert’s team hadn’t. Here are some figures I jotted down as I listened to the three heats
Spykeside had taken part in so far: Do you notice something about the Spykeside team?

Listening to those quizzes, it was clear that this Mr Electron person hadn’t so much as
spoken
.

Weird.

At school the next day – Friday – I sat next to Izzy at lunchtime. I told her about my discovery.

‘Weird,’ she said.

‘Your cousin,’ I said, ‘the one who saw one of the earlier heats being recorded. She didn’t mention anything about this Mr Electron person, did she? I mean, the team
isn’t three people and a knitted mascot or something?’

‘No,’ said Izzy. ‘Definitely four Spykeside pupils.’

‘So why would they have one member of the team who never says anything?’

Izzy shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s very shy. Or a bit dim.’

‘But they’re
cheating
,’ I said. ‘They all know the answers.’

‘Perhaps he’s the only one in the team who
isn’t
cheating?’ said Izzy. ‘Perhaps he’s found out what’s going on and the others have shut him
up?’

‘That’s possible, I suppose,’ I mumbled. ‘Or perhaps he’s decided to say nothing and walk away with the prizes like the rest of them. I wish we could get a look at
these guys.’

Izzy almost leaped out of her seat. ‘That reminds me! I did a lot more searching last night and I found a photo. A very bad one, but it’s better than nothing.’

From her school bag she produced a website printout. Sandwiched in between a couple of short articles and a fringe of adverts, there was a small, rather dark picture.

‘I got this from a local news site that covers Spykeside,’ said Izzy. ‘It was only posted a couple of days ago. That’s why I didn’t find anything last time I
looked.’

Under the photo was a paragraph which read: