Free The Pearl of Bengal by Sir Steve Stevenson Page B

huge. Must be way overdue for an upgrade.”
    Dash grabbed it, heaving a sigh of relief. “Thanks, but no way I’d replace it! My dad gave me this phone, and it means a lot to me.” He closed his fist over the EyeNet, trying to hide its array of buttons and flashing lights. Tapping a bowling ball, he added casually, “How about Idry off by beating you all without mercy?”
    “In your dreams,” snorted Marshall.
    Dash grinned. As he made his way toward the shoe rental counter, he quickly punched in his secret access code. The EyeNet had been in standby mode since late last night, and there might be urgent messages.
    A high-pitched ring shattered the air. Just he suspected, the Eye International symbol was flashing insistently. There were eleven missed messages, all from his school!
    Dash skimmed down to read the last message, and a desperate cry escaped his lips.
    “
Kolkata?
In India? Oh God, what a mess! I need Agatha!”
    His friends watched as he shot back out like a rocket. “What a weirdo!” sniffed Alison, but the others just shook their heads and went back to their game. They were used to the unpredictable ways of the Mistery family.

T he Mistery Estate was an ancient, lavender-roofed mansion on the edge of a park on the outskirts of London. Its high ceilings creaked with heavy oak beams. Whenever it rained, the grand old house seemed even gloomier. Windowpanes rattled inside their dark frames, and the wind seemed to haunt the large rooms, echoing down the long halls like the whispers of restless ghosts.
    Luckily its residents were not easily frightened. For twelve-year-old Agatha Mistery, bright-eyed and petite, the sounds created a moody and magical atmosphere.
    At that moment, Agatha lay on her canopy bed, listening to raindrops patter against her bedroom window, as though knocking to come in. After a few moments, she reached for her notebook and pen. “It’s a perfect day for writing,” she murmured to Watson, her white Siberian cat. “But let’s have some inspiration first. What do you say to a spy movie?”
    The cat let out a satisfied meow as Agatha scratched his favorite spot under the chin. Then he followed her down the back stairs to the screening room. While most home theaters boasted state-of-the-art sound systems and flat-screen TVs, the Misteries had a thing for outdated technologies. Agatha’s parents, Rebecca and Arthur Conan Mistery, never took jets if there was a biplane or zeppelin handy.
    Chandler, the Mistery Estate’s jack-of-all-trades butler, was already fitting a take-up reel into the vintage projector, as if he’d read Agatha’s mind.
    Chandler was a former heavyweight boxer, with a square jaw and shoulders as broad as a redwood tree. As usual, he wore an immaculate dinner jacket, with his hair slicked back. “Which film have you chosen, Miss Agatha?” he asked politely as she entered.
    She paused for a second. “I should brush up on Cold War spies for my new story, but I can’t decide,” she said, idly stroking the tip of her small upturned nose.
    This simple gesture always helped her to focus her thoughts.
    “What are you thinking, Miss?”
    She searched for an answer. “There’s also the indie film Mom and Dad sent me from San Francisco,” she said. “It would be rude not to watch it before they get home.”
    Chandler cleared his throat. “They’ve taken a steamer to India, Miss Agatha,” he replied. “They’ll be there for at least a week.”
    “The international conference on renewable energy, right?”
    The butler nodded, adjusting the projector’s lens. “You’ll have plenty of time to watch it before they return, Miss.”
    Agatha wasn’t convinced. She turned toward Watson, who was nosing around through a dust-covered carton. “What are you up to, kitty?” she asked.
    The cat jumped out of the carton and set his paw on a single film canister under the table—another gift from Mom and Dad. It had never been opened.
    Chandler and Agatha exchanged