Free Molly Moon Stops the World by Georgia Byng

up?”
    She cast her eyes around the modern room. There was a floor-to-ceiling window at one end overlooking the little park. On one wall hung a huge oil painting of a beautiful magpie, sitting in a nest full of shiny things—coins, jewelry, precious golden objects, and a big, icy diamond. The opposite wall was lined with bookshelves. The floor was striped black and white. A black-lacquer art-deco desk stood in front of the window. On it were two white elephant tusks set on silver bases, pointing to the ceiling.
    “How disgusting,” said Rocky. “I’d rather be shot myself than have an elephant tusk as an ornament.” Then he looked at the floor, and his mouth dropped open. He crouched down and stroked it. “The carpet is wall-to-wall zebra skin. A zebra-fur carpet!” Rocky was too appalled to be able to say what he felt about this. Petula sniffed the floor. It smelled like horse.
    Feeling like a fish in the blue, waterlike light, Molly threw him a pair of Bubblealot rubber gloves.
    “Here,” she said. “Put these on. We mustn’t leave fingerprints.” Wearing her own pair of gloves, she crossed the room to Primo Cell’s desk and began opening drawers.
    Rocky checked the bookcase for a hidden safe.
    Nockman stood silently by, waiting for instructions.
    In a bottom drawer Molly came across some documents that showed what businesses Primo had recently bought. More papers listed the money his companies had made. The biggest ones were Primospeed, Compucell, and Cell Oil, but even the smaller ones—In the Groove, Vitawell, Shlick Shlack, Fashion House, and Mightie Lighties—were massively successful. Molly had never seen such big numbers as those that blinked out from Primo Cell’s bank statements. But these numbers weren’t what they were looking for.
    Then, as Molly was about to scoop up what looked like an address book, she felt something soft under her fingers. She pulled it out. In her hand was a small black mink glove. It would have fitted Molly perfectly.
    “Rocky, look at this. Is it …?”
    She looked in the drawer to find the glove’s partner.
    “Why would Primo Cell have a child’s fur glove in his desk?” she whispered hoarsely.
    Rocky was about to open his mouth when they heard voices in the hallway outside.

Thirteen
    M olly quickly pulled Nockman behind the desk and pushed him under it. They all sank breathlessly out of sight, like two minnows and a sea slug diving behind a rock.
    “You will be as quiet as … as a dead person,” Molly whispered frantically.
    Nockman immediately rolled up his eyes and stuck out his tongue.
    “It can’t be Primo Cell,” hissed Rocky, “or the watchman would have called up.”
    The electronic lock bleeped four times.
    “Petula!” Molly gasped. Petula was examining the mane of the zebra skin in the corner of the room. It smelled of some hot, faraway place. She spat out thestone she was sucking to have a good sniff.
    The door to the room opened and a woman’s voice, suddenly loud, said, “Sumpshus toilet paper’s going well.”
    Molly prayed desperately that Petula would come over quickly, before the lights were turned on.
    “It’s been helped by the campaign with that boxer …” said the woman.
    “King Moose,” prompted a man’s voice.
    “Yeah, by King Moose saying that it’s tough enough for him to use.”
    The lights then blazed. Molly was so scared, she thought she might faint. The vein in her throat was pumping so hard that her neck hurt. If the pair, whoever they were, came too far toward the window, they would see her, Rocky, and Nockman squashed under the desk. As for Petula, she was an alarm bell just waiting to ring.
    The people were standing by the magpie picture.
    “Have you seen the commercial?” asked the man.
    “King Moose having a boxing match with an animated toilet roll, and losing? Yes, it made me laugh.”
    “And you don’t do that too often, Sally.”
    “No need to be cutting, Sinclair. You’re not a bundle of fun