Free The Pearl of Bengal by Sir Steve Stevenson Page A

apartment in Baker Palace without even checking the weather online.
    Big mistake. Everybody in London knewthe city had only two kinds of weather: sun at intervals and rain at intervals.
    The storm had caught Dash off guard. At first, he’d stood under an awning, hoping it was just a cloudburst. But the rain didn’t let up—in fact, the longer he waited, the worse it got. He couldn’t afford to lose any more time. He started to run, stopping only when he got stuck at a crosswalk. Now he was soaked from head to toe.
    At Richmond Avenue, three blocks away, he hit another red light.
    Panting and shivering, Dash huddled against a wrought-iron fence. What if his friends had given up on him and started their weekly challenge match? But they wouldn’t do that without calling him first, would they?
    A terrible thought slammed into his head. “Oh no!” he groaned, digging frantically through his pockets. Except for a few stray coins, they were empty.
    He fingered the case where he kept his most precious gadget.
    It was light. Too light.
    Holding his breath, he reached in. There was nothing inside.
    “Where did I put it? Where?” he cried out in panic.
    Eye International, the famous detective school he attended, had one very strict rule: Never go anywhere without the tools of the trade.
    This didn’t mean the traditional investigator’s kit (e.g., magnifying glass, bugging devices, spy cameras, and walkie-talkies). All of these functions and more were performed by a patented high-tech device called the EyeNet. The worst thing a student could do was to lose it.
    If he couldn’t find his EyeNet, Dash was in a sea of trouble. He kept patting his clothes in the pouring rain, waving his arms like an octopus. Meanwhile, the light had turned green, and anew wave of bobbing umbrellas came at him.

    Frozen in place, Dash pressed his palm on his forehead and tried to mentally reconstruct the events of the night before. He’d gone to Marshall’s apartment, played video games for a couple hours, and gotten back home around midnight. Half asleep, he’d kicked back on the couch to watch some shows he’d recorded. This morning he’d woken up fully dressed, with the TV still on. Had he put hisEyeNet into its charger right next to the couch, like he did every night? He didn’t remember doing it. Which could only mean…
    “Marshall!” he shouted so loudly that passersby eyed him cautiously from underneath their umbrellas. “I left it at his apartment!”
    Dash charged across Richmond Avenue without realizing the light had turned red. Horns honked and brakes squealed as taxicabs swervedto avoid a collision. A policeman blew on his whistle, but Dash didn’t bother to turn. Nothing mattered as much as getting his EyeNet back as soon as possible.

    Five minutes later, he skidded into the Hastings Street Bowling Alley. Panting, he swiveled his head, looking for Marshall. Every lane was in use, and the sounds of heavy balls striking pins echoed through the cavernous room.
    Dash vaulted over the seats where his friends were sitting without even saying hello. He leaped into the lane, grabbing Marshall’s shoulder just as he let go of the ball. It swung wide and rolled into the gutter.
    A big zero flashed on the scoreboard.
    “Dash!” shouted Marshall. “That was a strike waiting to happen. You totally killed it!”
    “Have you seen my…um…err…cell phone?”
    “You left it at my place!”
    “Thank God,” the young detective said with a gulp. “Can I get it right now?”
    “Look at you, Dash! You are beyond disgusting!” sniffed Alison, tossing her curls. She was wearing a bright pink designer sweater.
    Marshall and the others snickered.
    Dash was sure he did look disgusting. He could feel wet hair glued to his cheeks, his clothes dripped like a broken faucet, and he’d left muddy footprints streaked over the polished wood floor.
    “Calm down, I brought it,” said Marshall, rummaging through his backpack. “That thing is