Free Grk Undercover by Joshua Doder Page B

was free. He had managed to outwit Colonel Zinfandel and his bodyguards. Now he just had to find his way to Notre Dame—and hope that Max and Natascha had managed to escape too. He looked at Grk. “Can you remember what Natascha said I should say?”
    This time, Grk didn’t wag his tail. Nor did he bark. He didn’t appear to have heard what Tim said.
    “I think it was
‘Où est Notre Dame?’
” said Tim. “Is that right?
‘Où est Notre Dame?’
”
    Grk still didn’t answer. All his attention was focused elsewhere. His ears were upright. His fur was standing on end. His tail was between his legs. He looked tense and alert.
    “What is it?” said Tim. “What’s wrong?”
    Grk lifted his head to look at Tim, then turned back again to look across the concrete.
    Tim turned to see what Grk was looking at.
    At first, he couldn’t see anything unusual. There were long lines for the lifts. Tourists were taking photos. Dogs and toddlers wererunning around. People were selling little silver models of the Eiffel Tower. Everything looked normal. And then he noticed a broad-shouldered man pushing through the crowds, coming toward him.
    It was the same bodyguard who had seen them coming out of the lift on the second floor. He must have recovered from Max’s kick and come down to the ground to wait for them. Now he was only a few meters away.
    For a second, Tim was too surprised to move. He stood there, staring stupidly at the bodyguard, allowing him to come even closer.
    The bodyguard roared.
    Who was he shouting at? And what was he saying?
    Tim immediately saw the answers to his own questions. More men were coming toward him from every direction. They must have been waiting at the exits. Now they had been alerted by the bodyguard’s shouts.
    They were coming to get him.
    Tim knew he didn’t have a chance. He was just a small, thin boy. Protected by nothing except a small dog. He didn’t have a gun. He couldn’t fight. What could he do against a group of soldiers?
    Shouldn’t he just put his hands in the air and surrender?
    He glanced at the ground.
    Grk wagged his tail. His ears were upright. His jaws were open, showing his small white teeth. He was ready to defend himself.
    Me too, thought Tim.
    They weren’t going to surrender. They weren’t going to allow themselves to be captured. No, they were going to fight with every drop of their strength.
    He jerked Grk’s leash.
    “Come on,” he yelled. “Run!”
    Grk didn’t need any encouragement. He turned round and sprinted across the concrete, heading away from the tower and toward the river. Tim charged after him.
    Behind them, Tim could hear more shouting. Not just one voice this time. Lots of voices. Ten or twenty men shouting to one another. He knew what that meant. The Stanislavian Secret Service were following him. They would be coming from every direction, hoping to cut him off and trap him and catch him and take him to Colonel Zinfandel. Well, he didn’t want that to happen. He wanted to be free. He put his head down and ran as fast as he had ever run in his life.

Chapter 25
    One ordinary boy against a troop of highly trained, heavily armed bodyguards?
    No contest.
    Tim knew he didn’t have a chance.
    The Stanislavian Secret Service would hunt him down and catch him in seconds. And when they caught him, they would hurl him to the ground, cuff his hands together and take him into custody.
    That was what should have happened, anyway. And that was what would have happened if Tim and Grk hadn’t been so fast, so determined and, most importantly, so small.
    Being small has many disadvantages.
    You get trodden on. You get ignored. You get forgotten. No one listens when you talk.
    But being small has a few advantages too.
    You can duck under outstretched arms. You can dodge through crowds. You can scramble under fences. And no one stops you. No one screams. Or yells. Or calls for the police. No one shouts, “Oi! That hurt! What do you think you’re