“I’ve got a screwdriver you can borrow,” Quigley said, reaching into his backpack. “And, err—I can take a look at your field light, if you like.” He leaned over and peered at the large lamp she was working on. “Is that the 745 Starfrost LED Super-Bright, Second-Generation Aluminum X Panel? Because if it is, I think I can fix it.”

  The camera-penguin blinked more snowflakes out of her eyes. “Huh?”

  “My buddy’s a bit of a gadget nerd,” Jackson explained. “He’s got an eidetic memory for instruction manuals.”

  “An eye-der-down-what?” the camera-penguin said as Quigley blushed and looked at his feet.

  “It means he remembers every instruction book he ever looks at,” Jackson said. “When he sees one, it’s like his brain makes a copy.” Jackson held his flippers up to his eyes like he was taking a photograph. “Click! Then that’s it. It’s in the Quigley memory files forever!”

  His buddy’s face turned even redder. “Oh, hey, I’m not that good. But—um—I do remember that particular model,” he said, pointing to the lamp, “because it had issues with dampness. I guess this snow may have caused it. Can I take a look? I think there’s a way to dry it out by blowing on it.”

  “Sure, kid.” The camera-penguin made space for him. “My name’s Rita Fettle-Flipper. I’d offer to get you guys an ice cream as a thank-you, but I think Victor’s gone home.”

  Quigley was too busy fiddling with the lamp to reply. But Jackson took his chance.

  “There is something else you could do for us,” he said, glancing over to make sure Bill Feathers wasn’t anywhere nearby. “See, I’ve lost my Egg. We were competing in the Games together. But I think it may have rolled off while you were filming us earlier.”

  “Really?” Rita said. “That’s bad luck. But how can I help?”

  “Well, see, I put my backpack down, over there.” Jackson pointed to where the bench had been. “It was when the head judge came over to tell us the competition was being stopped, and that’s when the Egg must have rolled out. I remember you were filming, so maybe you caught the moment when it got lost.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I did. Let’s see.” Rita opened a large metal box that contained her camera. She flipped up its viewing screen and pressed a few buttons. “Let me spool back a bit. I guess you heard all about those robberies, yeah?”

  Jackson nodded. But he couldn’t speak. Images of what might have happened to the Egg were blanking out everything else. Please be on there, he thought, staring at the screen and crossing his flippers. If this didn’t work, there was only one thing he could do: call his mom. And I’d rather be covered all over with snappy snow crabs than have to call her!

  “Okay,” Rita said, looking at the screen. “So this is the bit when Wendy Webbingham came to tell you all the bad news.”

  Jackson could see himself and the other competitors lined up in front of the judge. He watched as the camera panned across all their disappointed faces. He peered into the background. “I d-d-don’t see it,” he whispered, his heart sinking.

  “Hold on—I’ll rewind and zoom in this time,” Rita said.

  “Jackson?” Lily came shuffling over. “The Egg’s not in the office.”

  Jackson didn’t reply. Somehow he couldn’t manage to peel his eyes off the screen. He clenched his flippers, willing the Egg to appear. This time the shot was grainy, the faces of the competitors distorted by the close-up zoom-in. “I don’t see—” Jackson began, but then: “—wait—yes! There it is!” he gasped as a tiny white blob in the background moved. “It’s the Egg, and it’s rolling and”—Jackson froze—“oh no! I think it rolled into Icejob’s backpack!”

  “Icejob!” Lily said, peering over his shoulder.

  “Icejob?” Rita frowned. “Isn’t that the dude they think stole the jewel? Nah, look closer. That backpack belongs to that sweet old grandma. See how she goes and picks it up at the end.”

  Jackson didn’t reply. He just stared at the screen, watching as Icejob, dressed as the grandma, waddled off, leaning on Wendy Webbingham’s flipper, carrying the backpack that contained his Egg.

  “Hey—I think I’ve done it,” Quigley said. “Stand by for some illumination.”

  “Whoa—awesome job!” Rita said as they were all suddenly blinded by light.

  Jackson blinked in the brightness. The lamp wasn’t the only thing suddenly switched on. He felt a sudden surge of energy through his feathers. “Icejob!” he growled under his breath. “You’re not going to get away with this. I’m coming for you! Let’s do this!”

  20

  “So explain that again,” Lily said, racing to keep up with Jackson and Quigley as they zoomed across the snow. “You’re telling me that the sweet old grandma penguin in the competition was actually Icejob?”

  “It was the perfect disguise,” Jackson said. “No one ever suspects a sweet old grandma penguin of anything, right?”

  Lily nodded. “I guess. And your Egg rolled inside her backpack, which means it’s actually inside Icejob’s backpack?”

  “Yep, you got it,” Jackson said, increasing his speed.

  “But if the Egg is in Icejob’s bag, it could be anywhere!” Lily panted.

  “Not exactly,” Quigley said. “See, we know where Icejob is, because we put a tracker app patch on the Egg’s shell.” He smiled. “Neat, huh? At first we couldn’t believe the Egg was actually where it was, on account of eggs not being able to roll up cliffs because of gravity.”

  Lily frowned. “This is getting kind of complicated.”

  “What Quigley means,” Jackson said, “is now that we know the Egg is with Icejob, the location on the tracker app makes sense.”

  “So where exactly are they?” Lily asked.

  Quigley’s smile vanished. “Um—halfway up there.”

  Lily stopped running. She gazed up at Frostbite Ridge, the snow swirling around her head like feathers from a pillow fight. “No one would go up there in this weather.”

  Jackson skidded to a stop. “Well, no one apart from an escaped criminal with a major in ice-climbing, who happens to be on the run with the world’s most precious jewel and the cup that will make him Mayor of Rookeryville!”

  “I guess,” Lily said. “But why go up Frostbite Ridge?”

  “Oh, I know this one!” Quigley shouted. “Because it’s the fastest route out of Rookeryville. See, me and Jackson have tried all the escape routes from Rookeryville, just in case we ever have to chase a criminal, and the one over Frostbite Ridge is definitely the fastest.”

  Jackson nodded. “And don’t forget Icejob will need somewhere to lie low until he gets his name carved on that cup. No one would look for him up there. Which is why we need to get a move on; we’ve got to stop him. Come on!”

  “But how are you going to get up there?” Lily said, racing to catch up again.

  “We’re going to borrow the FBI’s heli-hopper!” Jackson said. “I just need to find— Oh, excuse me, ma’am,” he shouted to an FBI agent who was shuffling past, huddled under a black umbrella. “We urgently need to talk to Agent Bryn Rockflopper.”

  “He’s in that tent over there,” the agent replied. “But he won’t see you. He and the boss are interviewing witnesses.”

  Jackson snorted. “Come on,” he said to his buddies. “Of course he’ll see us.”

  Lily frowned. “Do you really think the FBI is going to lend you their heli-hopper?”

  “Sure!” Jackson said. “This isn’t just a case of missing jewels and golden cups. There’s a baby penguin in danger. Oh, hi there,” he said to the two agents standing guard in front of the tent. “I’m Jackson. My uncle is an agent with the FBI. He’s inside this tent and I urgently need to talk to him.”

  “Sure, and my uncle is a giant warty-walrus!” The stockier of the two penguins folded her flippers and sighed. “Go away, and stop bothering us.”

  “But this is important,” Jackson said. “My Egg is missing and—”

  “Lost toys are not FBI business!” The other penguin blew a gum bubble and popped it, spraying spittle in Jackson’s direction. “Now scram!”

  “Jackson’s Egg isn’t a toy,” Lily said. “It’s real, and it’s been accidentally taken away by the penguin who stole the jewel.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, along with three umbrellas, a picnic hamper, and a pair of very expensive eyeglasses.” The stocky penguin rolled her eyes. “Today everyone thinks the stuff they’ve mislaid has been stolen by whoever’s got the jewel. Now get lost!”

  Before Jackson could argue, a sudden gust of wind blew the tent flap open, and its occupants were revealed. “Uncle Bryn!” Jackson was about to shout. But before he could get the words out, he noticed the other penguins sitting next to his uncle. He gasped, then ducked his head and turned away. “Um—no problem. Thanks anyway,” he mumbled. “Come on, guys. Let’s go.”

  “Wait—what about the heli-hopper?” Quigley called, chasing after him. “I thought we were going to ask your uncle.”

  “We can’t!” Jackson hissed. “Didn’t you see who else was in the tent? Mrs. Heckle-Flipper and the Mom Squad! They must have been giving their witness statements. If Mrs. Heckle-Flipper hears I’ve lost the Egg, she’ll call Mom!”

  Lily sighed. “Maybe you need to call your mom, Jackson. This is getting serious.”

  Jackson shook his head. “No way! But don’t worry,” he said, his throat feeling drier than a hatchling’s sandbox. “See, I’ve just decided that I’m going to get the little guy back myself. Because it’s my fault it got lost.” He shook the thick snow off his crest and began striding away.

  “Wait for me!” Quigley said, setting off after him.

  “Stop! You’re both crazy!” Lily shouted. “It’s too dangerous. I can barely see you through the snow. Let’s go speak to those two agents again. We’ll show them that TV footage.” She glanced around the emptying field. “That news crew must be here somewhere.”

  But Jackson didn’t look back. Head down, flippers pumping, he zoomed through the snow as fast as he could, with Quigley slipping and sliding behind him. But then— “Ahhh!” Jackson suddenly disappeared.

  “Jackson? Jackson?” Quigley peered through the blizzard. “Hey—I see you. Grab a flipper!” And he hauled his buddy out of a large drift.

  “Thanks!” Jackson shook the snow from his feathers. “This would be a lot quicker if we had a giant snowmobile.”

  Quigley cocked his head to one side, his gaze shifting from Jackson to the museum. “Wait—maybe we’ve got something better! Come on, I’ll show you.”

  21

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Lily gazed at the giant mammoth, which Jackson was now shimmying up the side of.

  “Quigley’s right. It’s perfect!” Jackson called down. “The ultimate snowmobile.”

  Quigley, meanwhile, was in a huddle with his cousin, Sunny, looking at the mammoth’s control panel. “So the tracker app should now be connected to the mainframe of the mammoth, right?”

  “Yep!” Sunny tapped a few more buttons on the controller and nodded. “Wherever that little Egg dude is, the mammoth will find him.”

  “Awesome. Thanks, Sunny!” Quigley gave his cousin a high-flipper, then scrambled up to join his buddy.

  Lily shook her head. “I can’t believe you guys are actually going to take this thing outside.”

  Sunny grinned at her. “It’s what it’s built for: ice, snow, chasing escaped criminals up freaky frozen glaciers!” He laughed, then lowered his voice. “But we’re gonna need your help with those.” He pointed to two enormous glass doors at the far end of the hall, which the museum used to move exhibits through. “We’ll have to open them up fast, because when the security penguins see what’s happening, they’re not gonna be pleased.”

  “Aren’t you worried you’ll get into trouble?” Lily asked.

  Sunny shrugged. “Well, this is kind of my fault. See, I accidentally sold some equipment to this bad dude who stole the jewel. And anyway, Trouble is my middle name.”

  “That’s true,” Quigley whispered to Jackson. “Sunny climbed out of his cot when he was three days old, and his parents found him with a screwdriver, taking apart the TV. They nicknamed him Trouble, and it kind of stuck.”

  “Um—guys,” Lily called as she followed Sunny toward the giant doors at the end of the hall. “I still think we should go talk to the FBI first. I’m sure if we showed them all the evidence, they’ll send their heli-hopper up to Frostbite Ridge and—”

  “Sorry, Lily,” Jackson interrupted. “There’s no time.”

  Quigley flipped a switch on the remote controller, and there was a sudden revving sound from the mammoth’s belly. The creature began to twitch and toss its head, its heavy tusks thudding on the floor. Several visitor penguins passing the plinth jumped at the noise.

  “Don’t worry,” Sunny called to them. “We’re just carrying out some—uh—routine maintenance. Though—um—ma’am, you might want to step back a bit from the plinth.”

  “Ready, 00Zero?” Quigley said, pulling down his goggles.

  Jackson slipped on his secret-agent dark glasses and grasped a chunk of the mammoth’s thick hairy coat in his flipper. “Yep, let’s do this!”

  Quigley shoved the controller’s lever into the drive mode, and the mammoth lunged forward. Visitor penguins who had taken shelter in the museum from the storm scattered. Several screamed. One with a hatchling in a stroller zoomed for the exit. But most just stood there, rooted to the spot, their beaks open, their eyes wide, as the mammoth lumbered toward the doors.

  Jackson shivered as a blast of icy flakes shot into the room. In the distance, an alarm began to sound. Uh-oh! He spun around and spotted the security-guard penguin from earlier rushing into the room. He nudged Quigley. “I think we need to go faster.”

  Quigley hit another button and the mammoth shot forward.

  “Go, dudes!” Sunny shouted, hopping from foot to foot and beaming up at his creation. “Hey, cuz,” he yelled to Quigley, “I think my next project should be making a real mammoth from DNA. What do you reckon?”

  But Sunny’s words were whipped away by the howling wind and snow. Whoa, it’s like being on the ultimate scary theme-park ride, Jackson thought as they thundered outside, straight into a wall of stinging snowflakes that pummeled the breath out of him.

  Quigley flicked another switch, and the mammoth tossed its head higher, giving them some shelter as they charged down the museum’s road, heading straight into the eye of the storm and onward to the terrifying outline of Frostbite Ridge.

  22

  Not that they could see much of Frostbite Ridge. Jackson strained to see anything through the snow. He was pretty sure he spotted the TV news crew filming outside the museum. “Hey, Rita!” He tried to wave, but then a sudden jolt sent him flying up into the air. As he smacked back down, Jackson flattened himself against the mammoth’s bouncing spine, trying to move with the creature rather than against it. Got to use the Sticky Starfish Technique again, he reminded himself, spreading out his body and willing his feathers to somehow sucker on. His bones rattled. His beak shook, and his eyeballs felt like they were ping-ponging around in his skull.

  The mammoth was climbing now, and its back had become an almost vertical slope. He tried to hold on even tighter. Then he made the mistake of looking down. Yikes, the snow’s up to the mammoth’s knees now! If I fall off, no one will ever find me! Jackson had a sudden vision of being scooped up by a snow-plough-sled in six months’ time, just a bag of frosty penguin bones held together by a backpack.

  He shivered and thought about the Egg. I hope you’re safe inside Icejob’s backpack, little buddy, or you’ll be frozen solid, and I’m not sure even sticking you in the micro-flipper on the max defrost setting will help.

  And still they thundered on, climbing up Frostbite Ridge.

  After what felt to Jackson like several eons of clinging on, the mammoth suddenly veered right, and the blizzard instantly weakened. Huh? Jackson looked up and saw a large rock jutting out above them, which was giving them a little bit of shelter. Something else was different, too. “Hey—the mammoth’s slowing down!” he shouted to Quigley.

  His buddy peered at his cell. “Yeah, the tracker app says we’re close.”

  “But I don’t see Icejob,” Jackson said. “I don’t see anything and— Hey!” He nearly fell off as the mammoth suddenly came to a juddering stop. “What happened?”

  Quigley wiped the falling snow off his icePhone screen. “We’ve arrived. The Egg is here.”

  “Where?” Jackson flipped up his glasses and looked one way, then the other. “I don’t see it.” He felt a hot flush of fear creep through his feathers. What if the Egg had fallen out of Icejob’s bag and gotten lost in a snowdrift?

  “Hey, I hear something,” Quigley said.

  Jackson listened, but all he could hear was the wind, howling and whistling, but then—“Yeah, I hear it. It sounds like someone shouting ‘help,’ but I don’t see anyone.”

  “Do you think it’s him?” Quigley whispered. “Icejob?”

  Jackson felt a wiggle of hope in his tail. If it is, then he might still have the Egg. “Come on, let’s go take a look.”

  They shimmied down the mammoth’s side, and instantly, everything went white.

  “Urgh!” Jackson poked his head out of a snowdrift, spitting flakes and ice from his beak. He scrambled up, shaking the snow off his feathers and shivering with cold. “Agent Q? Where are you?” Then he spotted the tip of a flipper wiggling in the snow. “Here! I’ve got you—”

  “Oh, wow, thanks!” Quigley mumbled, cracking the frost off his beak as his buddy tugged him out of the drift. “I nearly turned Popsicle.”

  “Listen,” Jackson said. “I can hear that voice again. It’s coming from over there.”

  They edged around to the front of the mammoth, holding onto its hairy coat and testing every foot before they placed it on the snow.

 

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