The Spy Who Came North from the Pole (2 page)

“I don't think I really want a gargoyle,” said Sally.

“Anyway, it was broken,” said Maggie.

“Oh dear,” said Sally. “Was it valuable?”

“Could be,” said Mr. Pin. “We don't know yet. But that was when we heard footsteps.”

“Footsteps?”

“Right,” said Maggie. “At first I thought it was a ghost. But it was really the thief who escaped in the elevator and took over a bus.”

“It
might
be a thief,” corrected Mr. Pin.

“A ghost took over the bus?” asked Sally.

“No, the gargoyle smasher,” said Maggie.

Mr. Pin was about to talk, but his beak was full of cinnamon roll.

“That's where I came in,” said Gus.

“On the bus?” asked Sally.

“No,” said Maggie. “Gus helped us
follow
the bus to the river. But the bridge went up and the thief got away.”

“Mightfft mbe a thmief,” said Mr. Pin. He tried to explain, but the cinnamon roll was making his beak stick together.

Suddenly the diner door swung open. It looked like the whole defensive line of the Chicago Bears had just walked in. But it was just Sergeant O'Malley, a large policeman who liked to eat in the diner.

“Pin,” he roared. “We're going to need your help.” He strode over to a tray of cinnamon rolls and ate while he talked.

“Three gargoyles have fallen from buildings in this city, and the police are baffled.”

“Baffled?” asked Mr. Pin, dabbing his beak with a napkin.

“Baffled,” repeated O'Malley. “These gargoyles didn't fall by themselves. So far, no one has gotten hurt. But it could be dangerous.”

“Hmmmm,” said Mr. Pin. “Someone in Chicago must not like gargoyles.”

“How's that?”

“Someone broke a gargoyle today in my uncle's warehouse,” put in Maggie.

“Is that right?” said O'Malley.

“Looks like there's a gargoyle problem in this city,” said Gus.

Mr. Pin nodded.

“One more thing,” said O'Malley. “We found a chocolate box near the scene of one of the crimes. Thought you might be interested.”

“Chocolate is always interesting,” said Mr. Pin.

“The chocolate box was empty, and there were no fingerprints. Here, take a look.”

“Too bad about the chocolate,” said Mr. Pin as he took the box with one wing.

“We're on the case,” said Maggie.

“Thanks,” said O'Malley.

The sergeant left as suddenly as he had come in. Gus said he had to get back to his cab. That left Maggie to do her homework while Sally watched the diner. Mr. Pin went into his back room with the empty box of chocolate.

The penguin detective looked at the box closely. He held it up to his beak. Then, very carefully using tweezers, he removed what looked like a small speck of chocolate. He set the speck on a small glass slide and put it under a microscope. Cocking his head to one side, he adjusted the focus, then peered through the lens. Much to his surprise, he saw a secret message written in brown ink!

4

It was foggy again the next morning, and Mr. Pin had to think. He sat alone on a stool in Smiling Sally's with a plate of chocolate-chip pancakes.

Someone was going around the city smashing gargoyles. But why? And why was there only
part
of a message written inside an empty box of chocolate? It wasn't much to go on. But if he went back to the scene of the first crime, he might find a clue he had missed before. It was time to visit Uncle Otis.

Mr. Pin was about to look for Maggie when she came leaping down the back stairs, two at a time, red hair flying in all directions. Maggie had a way of not missing much.

“So where are we going today?” asked Maggie, watching Mr. Pin put on his red muffler and checked cap.

“Back to the warehouse,” said Mr. Pin. “To look for more clues.”

“Right,” said Maggie. “It's a good thing I don't have school today.” Maggie was about to ask Mr. Pin what the
first
clue was when Sally handed her a pancake sandwich (pancake on the outside, eggs on the inside) and a jacket. Then Maggie followed Mr. Pin out the door.

Otis seemed to be waiting for them at the warehouse. Although Maggie had her own key, her uncle was already at the door.

“He was here again!” said Maggie's uncle, wheezing as they rode upstairs in the creaking elevator.

“Who was here?” asked Maggie.

“The thief,” said Otis.

“I don't think it was a thief,” said Mr. Pin.

“Anyway,” said Otis, “he was short and dark, and he smashed another gargoyle.”

“I wonder why he doesn't like gargoyles?” said Maggie.

“Mind if I look around?” asked Mr. Pin as Otis pulled open the elevator door.

“Not at all,” said Otis.

Mr. Pin opened his black bag and removed a pair of gloves.

Bzzzzzzz!!

“That's the door buzzer,” said Otis.

While Otis rode the elevator back downstairs, Mr. Pin stooped down, picked something up off the floor, and put it into a plastic bag. He put the plastic bag into his black bag. Then he heard the rumble of the elevator again.

“Okay, Pin. What's going on?” It sounded like half of the Bears football team again, but it was just O'Malley, red-faced and sweating. O'Malley went on: “Another gargoyle was smashed late last night. Someone says that
you
were seen running from the scene of the crime. I don't understand how a crime-solving rock hopper could go so wrong, but now it's all beginning to make sense. Especially since we found another empty box of chocolate near the scene of the crime.”

Mr. Pin thought about this. The shadowy figure that had escaped the warehouse and leaped onto the bus had been very short. Mr. Pin was about to suggest that he could not possibly have been in two places at once, but Maggie spoke first:

“Mr. Pin isn't the gargoyle smasher.
He's
trying to
find
the gargoyle smasher. In fact—”

“I can't believe it either,” roared O'Malley, breaking in. “That's why I'm giving you twenty-four hours to prove I'm wrong. But in any case, you're off the case. And here's your box of chocolate.”

Maggie and Otis stared in disbelief as O'Malley tossed Mr. Pin another empty box, then stormed out of the warehouse. Strangely enough, Mr. Pin didn't look surprised. All he said was: “This could be exactly what I was looking for.”

5

Late that night Maggie and Mr. Pin sat in his back room, looking at three empty chocolate boxes. Mr. Pin lined them up on his desk next to a microscope. A single light bulb dangling from the ceiling swung gently whenever the elevated train on Wabash went by.

“Just empty boxes of chocolate,” said Maggie.

“Not quite,” said Mr. Pin. “There's a clue in each one.” Mr. Pin took out a pair of tweezers from his black bag. He held each box very carefully with gloves.

“I don't want to disturb any fingerprints,” Mr. Pin said. “But I don't think I'll find any.” Maggie watched as Mr. Pin removed what looked like a speck of chocolate from two of the boxes. Then he placed the two specks on microscope slides.

“I've already made a slide from the first box,” explained Mr. Pin.

He held another slide up to his beak and said, “It
looks
like chocolate, but it isn't. That's probably why no one thought it was important.” Then he put the slide under the microscope lens.

“Now take a look at this,” he said.

“Wow!” said Maggie. “There's a message. It says:
IN GARGOYLE
.”

“Right,” said Mr. Pin. “That was from the first box O'Malley gave me in the diner. Now read this one.”

“
CODEBOOK CLUE
!” shouted Maggie.

“Now put the two messages together,” said Mr. Pin.

“
CODEBOOK CLUE IN GARGOYLE
,” said Maggie, reading the message. “Holy cow! Do you mean that …?”

“Exactly,” said Mr. Pin. “The gargoyle smasher is probably a spy. Who else would be looking for a codebook? Maybe even a government codebook.”

“Which is hidden in a gargoyle.”

“Not quite,” explained Mr. Pin. “A
clue
, perhaps the most important clue, was hidden in a gargoyle. But no more.”

“Why is that?” asked Maggie.

“The spy kept breaking gargoyles to find the last clue,” said Mr. Pin. “If I'm not mistaken, that's the one O'Malley just found and gave to me at the warehouse. The spy found it, then put it in this chocolate box.” Mr. Pin put a new slide under the lens and pointed with his wing for Maggie to look. “This is the clue,” he said.

IN A LION SEEN BY MANY LIONS. BE THERE AT MIDNIGHT
.

Maggie looked at Mr. Pin, her eyes growing wider, and asked, “What in the world does it mean? There are lion gargoyles on buildings all over the city.”

“I have an idea,” said Mr. Pin. “There are two lion
statues
in front of the Art Institute. Across the street, on a building on Michigan Avenue, there are many more lions that look down on them.”

“So which lion is the right one?” asked Maggie.

“I don't know,” said Mr. Pin. “But I'm going to wait for the spy on the ground … not on the building across the street.”

“Why is that?”

“Because penguins don't fly.”

“This whole thing sounds fishy,” said Maggie. “Why would a spy just accidentally drop his clues all over the place? Unless it's a trap to lure you someplace where the police will catch you.”

“Exactly,” said Mr. Pin. “And he thinks he'll get away with the codebook while the police hold me. So I'll just have to set my own trap. Tonight.”

“It could be dangerous,” said Maggie. “We have to tell the police.”

“We can't,” said Mr. Pin. “They think I'm involved.”

“Then I'm going, too,” said Maggie.

“Not this time,” said Mr. Pin.

“So why are you telling me all of this if I can't go?” asked Maggie.

“In case,” Mr. Pin said slowly, “I don't come back.”

6

It was almost midnight. The streets were empty. A dark figure huddled under a black cape headed into the dense fog. He made his way across Wabash under the tracks toward Michigan Avenue.

Carrying a black bag, he inched behind a long, low wall of shrubs, then crouched down as he reached one of the statues in front of the Art Institute. Slowly, he put his wing into the lion's mouth and took something out. He put it into his black bag. Then he took a roll of wire out of his bag and connected one end to the lion's tail and the other to the door of the Art Institute. He did the same thing with the other lion. Then he hid behind the first lion again.

Just in time.

Another dark figure slowly made his way up the stairs. When he reached the lion, he took a large mallet and chisel out of a brown bag and gripped one in each wing. He was about to hit the lion when Mr. Pin jumped out.

“Stop!” Mr. Pin shouted. “Don't hit that lion. Besides, it won't do you any good. It's bronze.”

“What?!” said the spy with the chisel, still hidden in the fog. “So you finally caught up with me.”

“You made it easy,” said Mr. Pin. “Too easy.”

“But my plan worked,” said the spy. “The police think
you
are the gargoyle smasher.”

“So that's why you left the clues,” said Mr. Pin.

“Smart penguin,” said the spy with a chuckle.

“Is that why you led me here, too?” asked Mr. Pin.

“No. That was an accident. I didn't mean to drop the last message. Even spies make mistakes.”