The King of Scotland's Sword Read online

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Original Title: Agatha Mistery: La spada del re di Scozia

  Text by Sir Steve Stevenson

  Original cover and illustrations by Stefano Turconi

  English language edition copyright © 2013 Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Original edition published by Istituto Geografico De Agostini S.p.A., Italy, 2010. © 2010 Atlantyca Dreamfarm s.r.l., Italy

  International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.—via Leopardi 8, 20123 Milano, Italia

  [email protected]—www.atlantyca.com

  Published in 2013 by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  ISBN: 978-0-698-15944-0

  THIRD MISSION

  Agents

  Agatha

  Twelve years old, an aspiring mystery writer; has a formidable memory

  Dash

  Agatha’s cousin and student at the private school Eye International Detective Academy

  Chandler

  Butler and former boxer with impeccable British style

  Watson

  Obnoxious Siberian cat with the nose of a bloodhound

  Granddad Ian

  Scotland’s premier builder of hot-air balloons

  DESTINATION

  Scotland:

  Dunnottar Castle, Aberdeen

  Edinburgh

  Bowden

  OBJECTIVE

  To discover who stole the ancient broadsword that once belonged to the legendary king of Scotland Robert the Bruce.

  Table of Contents

  PRELUDE: The Investigation Begins…

  CHAPTER ONE: Change of Plans

  CHAPTER TWO: Voyage of the Mistery Balloon

  CHAPTER THREE: Dunnottar Castle

  CHAPTER FOUR: Trouble in the Tower

  CHAPTER FIVE: Granddad Ian, Master Detective

  CHAPTER SIX: The Case of the Missing Purse

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Clueless

  CHAPTER EIGHT: The King of Scotland’s Sword

  EPILOGUE: Mystery Solved…

  Special Excerpt from The Heist at Niagara Falls

  Londoners are famous for staying up late, and Dash Mistery was a total night owl. But the fresh air of Scotland, combined with a very big dinner, made him doze off at nine. One minute he was sprawled on the living-room couch with a plaid blanket over his knees, listening to his granddad Ian and younger cousin Agatha as they sat by a crackling fire, trading stories of their adventures in faraway places. The next, he was out like a light. Was he dreaming, or did somebody lift him up gently and carry him into his bedroom, the way his mom used to when he was a kid?

  Dash opened his eyes at 7:00 the next morning. The room was eerily silent. Where were his seven computers and the hip-hop mix he always woke up to? For a moment, he had no clue where he was. Then he saw the emerald hills outside the window, crisscrossed with ancient stone walls, and it all flooded back. He was in his grandfather’s country house on the outskirts of Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, where the Mistery family was gathering for their traditional hot-air-balloon weekend. There was no time to lose!

  He and Agatha were to join Granddad Ian at noon for a balloon flight over the Scottish Highlands. But before they took off, he had a chore to get out of the way. Dash was already sorry he’d let himself get roped into it.

  “Childhood friends are a pain in the butt,” he groaned, rolling over in bed. It would be easy to just go back to sleep. Instead, he kicked off his five layers of wool blankets, like a deep-sea diver coming up for air.

  He yawned and stretched, padding into the bathroom. He reached for the hair gel he always used to sculpt his floppy hair into a work of art, then paused in mid-motion. No London style around here, he said to himself with a grin. If I go to meet Aileen looking like a total slob, maybe she’ll quit stalking me with all those texts full of little hearts!

  Aileen Ferguson was fourteen years old, the same age as Dash. Her parents had sent her to a fancy boarding school in Edinburgh, but she was spending the weekend in the little Scottish town of Bowden, where Granddad Ian lived. As soon as she’d heard Dash was coming, she’d insisted on catching up with her old friend. “Okay, make it Saturday morning,” Dash had finally agreed. “I’ll meet you for breakfast, but I’m warning you, I’ll have to leave in a hurry.”

  Dash rummaged through bureau drawers until he found a heavy wool sweater that looked like the side of a sheep. He pulled on a pair of stiff corduroy pants and tucked them into a pair of bright green rubber boots. He looked at himself in the mirror. “I look like I fell off a haystack.” He grinned. “I bet this is the last time Aileen will ever want to lay eyes on me!”

  Dash had met Aileen several summers ago, when he spent a few weeks with his granddad. Everyone in Bowden called her “Dorothy” because she always wore a blue-checkered pinafore with red shoes, and tied her two pigtails with ribbons, like the girl in The Wizard of Oz.

  Dash checked the time on his EyeNet, a high-tech gadget that doubled as cell phone, computer, and anything else a budding detective might need in the field. It was almost 8:00. And if everything goes well, I’ll be a free man by ten! he told himself.

  He scrawled a quick note on the message board next to the door, then went outside and grabbed his bike. Within a few minutes, he was weaving along winding roads through the green Scottish countryside. There were thistles and heather and even a few grazing sheep. He soon arrived in the village of Bowden, passing an ancient stone church and a line of pastel Georgian houses. There weren’t many people out this early on a Saturday morning, and the inn where Aileen had arranged for them to meet looked completely deserted.

  Dash entered boldly and strode right up to the counter.

  The innkeeper wore a chef’s hat and a dish towel over one shoulder as he rolled out dough for a tart. “Young Mr. Mistery?” he asked without turning around.

  Dash paused, dumbfounded. “Uh yeah, that’s me,” he stammered. “How did you know?”

  “Table six, in
the corner,” the man replied, picking up a knife to slice some pears.

  Dash looked around the elegant dining room, wondering why Aileen had booked a table for two in the corner. Was she trying to create a romantic atmosphere?

  He sat down with a sigh and waited.

  The innkeeper came over, lit the candle in the center of the lace tablecloth, and walked away without a word.

  Dash gave another sigh, even deeper this time.

  Suddenly the door swung open. A slender girl stood on the threshold, sun striking her light brown hair. She had bright green eyes and the face of an angel, and was wearing a dress that any girl in London would have called cool. In short, she was gorgeous. And she was walking right toward him!

  “Hi, Dash,” the girl greeted him with a perfect smile. “Sorry I’m late.”

  The young detective could feel himself blushing. “Uh, oh, hi, Dorothy,” he managed to say. Embarrassed, he tried to correct himself. “I mean, Aileen.”

  She sat down at the table. “I like your look. Very retro, you know?” she said with a smile as she picked up her menu. “You look like an old-school Scotsman!”

  Dash caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window and felt a sinking shame. Could he be any more of a loser? The annoying little girl he remembered had grown up to be totally cool. How was he going to catch up? He decided the best way to impress Aileen was to show off his EyeNet. It usually left people openmouthed, asking where they could get one. The answer, of course, was that they were only available to students of Eye International Detective Academy, but Dash’s plans to become the world’s greatest detective were definitely a secret.

  “Hey, check out my new cell phone,” he said slyly, pushing the EyeNet onto the table. “It’s a brand-new prototype, not on the market yet!” He readied himself to respond to a thousand questions, but Aileen barely glanced at it.

  “Want to try the vegetarian haggis?” she asked, fixing him with a magnetic stare.

  It was hard to imagine a worse combination than tofu and the traditional Scottish pudding made of organ meats, oatmeal, suet, and spices. Dash muttered a few words in response. Luckily just at that moment, the EyeNet gave a shrill beep. Like lightning, he grabbed it to look at the screen, which was flashing CODE RED.

  It was a message from Eye International.

  An urgent mission!

  Dash jolted out of his seat. “Right now?” he blurted, realizing he had to get back to Agatha as soon as possible. She was the only one who could help him with an urgent investigation. He stared helplessly at Aileen. He would so much rather stay with her a little bit longer…She was awesome!

  But duty was duty. Dash let out a big sigh and muttered, “Uh, um, excuse me, Dorothy, I’ve got to go. It’s superimportant…I’ll call you as soon as I’m finished, I promise!” He blushed again. “I meant, Aileen. Sorry, Dorothy!”

  Feeling like a fool, he rushed out the door.

  Aileen watched him get back on his bicycle and speed away, then gave a long sigh of her own. To console herself, she ordered a fruit salad with whipped cream and hot fudge sauce. “You know something, Mr. MacGaylin?” she said to the silent innkeeper. “There are easier things than having a crush on a wack job like Dashiell Mistery!”

  Aspiring detective Dash Mistery was far from the wackiest branch on his family tree. For generations, the Misteries had dedicated themselves to unusual jobs: camel wranglers, underwater photographers, intercontinental explorers, truffle tasters in fancy restaurants, experts on prehistoric butterflies, custodians of remote islands, restorers of garden gnomes…The list went on and on.

  No two Misteries were alike!

  The previous evening, while Dash lay snoring under his tartan blanket, Agatha and Granddad Ian had laughed themselves silly at their relatives’ bizarre professions. “You’re the first mystery writer in the clan, dear Agatha,” Granddad Ian had observed as he rose from his armchair to add another log to the fire. The living room was filled with the sweet smell of wood smoke, and the firelight’s warm glow flickered over the furniture.

  Twelve-year-old Agatha had stroked the tip of her small, upturned nose, as she often did when she was thinking. “I’m still a newbie, Granddad,” she’d said modestly. “For now, I enjoy digging up curious facts, describing interesting characters, and trying to work out good plot twists.” She had opened the leather-bound notebook she carried with her at all times, showing her grandfather pages and pages of notes. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll pick your brain about hot-air ballooning tomorrow,” she’d said. “You never know what research you might need for a character.”

  Granddad Ian had smoothed his thick white beard and lit his pipe. He was a spry old man, wiry and strong, and liked to wear tweeds and a bow tie. Even though he’d been born in London, he’d been living in Scotland so long that he could easily pass for a wealthy local resident.

  In his youth, Ian Mistery had made a fortune designing and building hot-air balloons for a famous company in Edinburgh, returning whenever he could to his peaceful country cottage in Bowden. In the world of hot-air ballooning, he was a star. His prototypes had been manufactured all over the world.

  “Let’s talk about your balloon trip. What do you and Dash want to do most before your parents arrive?” Granddad Ian had asked, puffing on his pipe.

  Glancing over at her sleeping cousin, Agatha had reached into her purse for a map of the Highlands, the famous northern region of Scotland. Several destinations were circled in red ink. “But no ruined castles this year,” she’d said, passing the map to her granddad. “Dash thinks they’re a total bore!”

  “Would you rather go hunting for the Loch Ness monster?” Granddad Ian had asked her.

  Agatha had rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what Dash wants to do,” she’d said. “But I convinced him we should also visit the famous cairns and standing stones. I want to study ancient stone carvings for one of my stories.”

  “Excellent,” Ian Mistery had agreed, putting on his bifocals to study their proposed route. He’d been about to speak when a giant shadow fell over the wall as a huge man lumbered into the room.

  It was Chandler, Agatha’s butler and jack-of-all-trades. Despite the former heavyweight boxer’s imposing size, he had impeccable posture and wore a tailored tuxedo. “Please excuse my interruption,” he had said quietly. “Miss Agatha, I’m afraid there’s a bit of a problem…”

  “What is it?” the girl had asked.

  “I was cleaning up the kitchen when I noticed that Watson has disappeared.”

  “No one’s opened the doors,” Granddad Ian had said, calmly blowing a smoke ring. “So wherever the rascal is hiding, he’s still in the house.”

  “Let’s take a look,” Agatha had proposed.

  They had split up to inspect the first floor of the house, calling the name of Agatha’s white Siberian cat as they went through each room.

  “Watson?” Agatha had whispered as she tiptoed down the dark hallways. “Where are you, kitty?”

  After ten minutes of searching in vain, they’d met in the living room.

  “Has anyone checked the pantry?” asked Chandler.

  “Maybe he got scared and ran up to the second floor,” guessed Granddad Ian. “There are lots of hiding places under the old furniture in those rooms.”

  Agatha just shook her head. “Watson isn’t a thief or a scaredy-cat,” she had murmured. “If my memory serves me correctly, cats always look for a warm, sheltered nook when they arrive in a new place.” She’d glanced around the room, then pushed her blond bangs from her forehead, listening intently. “Do you hear that noise?”

  “What noise, Miss Agatha?” Chandler had asked.

  “Do you mean Dash snoring?” Granddad Ian had laughed.

  Agatha had moved toward her cousin and gently raised a corner of the plaid blanket that covered him from head to toe.

  Nestled under the blanket, Watson was licking a paw and purring.

  “Oh, kitty, what are you doing there?
” Agatha had whispered. “If Dash wakes up, he’ll scare you to death with his screaming!”

  Dash couldn’t stand cats, especially Watson. In order to keep him from going ballistic, Agatha would need to move Watson without waking Dash.

  She quietly had beckoned to Chandler. “Are you ready?” she’d asked him.

  The butler had set his jaw.

  They had moved in perfect unison. Chandler had lifted Dash in his brawny arms, and Agatha had scooped up the cat just as he was about to unsheathe his claws. The butler then had carried the tall teenager into his bedroom as if he were a little boy, slipping him under the covers that Granddad Ian had pulled back silently. They all had tiptoed out of the room.

  “Good job, Granddaughter,” Ian had said when they were finished. “Very clever deduction!”

  Agatha had smiled. “You have to train your powers of observation if you want to write mysteries,” she said modestly.

  Her granddad had stroked his beard, regarding her with admiration. There were rumors among their relatives that Agatha had extraordinary abilities for her age. She was a voracious reader with amazing intuition and a steel-trap memory for seemingly insignificant details. That evening, he’d also witnessed his granddaughter’s talent for investigation.

  “Well, we have a lovely trip planned for tomorrow. It would be best if we got a good rest,” the elderly man had declared with satisfaction. He had picked up a poker, breaking the dying embers of the fire into pieces. “I’ll see you at breakfast, my dear, at eight thirty.”

  Agatha had nodded and gave him a tender hug. Moments later, he’d gone to his bedroom and fallen asleep. Agatha had curled up in her canopy bed, fluffed up a goose-feather pillow, and stuck her nose into a guidebook about Scotland that she’d brought from her parents’ library in London.

  * * *

  When she woke the next morning, Agatha still had the open book in her hands.