The Poisoned Arrow by Simon Cheshire

Author:Simon Cheshire [Cheshire, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781848123199
Publisher: Piccadilly Press Ltd.

CHAPTER

FOUR

‘AWWW, WOW, LOOK AT THAT! And that! And that! Ooooh!’

‘Muddy,’ I growled through clenched teeth, ‘pack it in. People are staring.’

‘But look,’ he cried, ‘they’ve got a proper laboratory. And have you seen the size of their canteen? And that sign up there says IT Centre. Not just a room like at school – a whole centre! I can’t wait to be a university student. A real laboratory, plus parties all the time and making a lot of noise at three in the morning!’

The university was certainly an impressive place. A narrow road wandered through the main campus, passing all kinds of buildings, each of which was totally different in size and style to the ones either side. It looked as if teams of builders had raced each other to finish one idea after another. Signposts and diagrams pointed here, there and everywhere, to the Department of This-Subject and the Institute of That-Studies.

Muddy and I were surrounded by flowing streams of students, all of them way taller than us and most of them wearing designer jeans. By the time we found the Department of Mathematics, we’d heard nine languages being spoken and seen about a dozen contenders for Cool Dude of the Year.

‘This is amaaaazing,’ Muddy said grinning.

The maths block was fronted by a large, paved area. In the middle of this plaza was a tall tree, its branches fanned out in an elegant dome, surrounded by a series of benches.

‘You stay out here, Muddy,’ I told him.

‘Yes, sir,’ said Muddy, parking himself on one of the benches.

‘Pack it in. Seriously, don’t go talking to anyone. I want to investigate incognito.’

‘Wearing a what?’ asked Muddy.

‘No, incognito,’ I said. ‘It means “undercover”, “on the quiet”.’

‘I bet Izzy told you that word,’ muttered Muddy.

‘Doesn’t matter where I got the word,’ I said, blushing slightly. ‘Don’t start talking to people about the case. I know what you’re like. I don’t want anyone knowing there’s a brilliant schoolboy detective here. My enquiries are strictly off the record, so I don’t need a blabbermouth like you asking questions. OK?’

‘Yes, sir!’ said Muddy, saluting.

‘Oh, play with your camera or something,’ I said crossly. I crossed the plaza and went into the maths building through sliding glass doors.

I found Dr Shroeder’s study without any problem. It was on the ground floor, only a matter of metres away from the entrance. Right opposite the plaza I’d just left, in fact.

The corridor off which it stood was closed at the far end by heavy fire doors. On the right were various tutors’ private offices. On the left, all along the corridor, were a series of wooden lockers and storage cupboards. These were roughly the same height as me. Above them, starting at about adult-shoulder level, were glistening windows, about a metre tall, which also ran from one end of the corridor to the other. They faced the plaza – I could see the top of that tree.

Pay attention to the layout of this corridor. It will become important later on!

I knocked on the door of Room 9B.

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