Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

“We’ll need walking boots and clothes for a steamy climate,” said Micky, his appetite whetted for the trip. “And detailed maps of the area. Actually, who knows what it’ll be like in the cloud forest? We’ll need matches, water-purifying tablets, food rations, bug repellent, penknives, flashlights, a few necessary medicines. How about tents and sleeping bags and mosquito nets?”

“Well, your plans are already over,” said Lily, hoisting herself up onto the back of the sofa and pointing at the muted TV. “The airports are closed.” As she spoke, thunder rumbled overhead. Petula jumped off the sofa and buried her face under Molly’s leg.

“You’re right,” Molly said.

“Hell,” Micky cursed. “If we can’t get out to Ecuador, we’re skewered. This is the end.”

“Mr. Black,” said Molly, “couldn’t we hypnotize people at the airport and then hypnotize a pilot?”

“We could,” Black mulled, “though it would be quite something to hypnotize a pilot to do this. It will be dangerous flying, you see. The pilot should really be fully alert. And as you know, some people, when hypnotized, are not fully alert.”

“You wouldn’t have to hypnotize me to do it,” Malcolm piped up. Everyone turned to look at Malcolm Tixley. They stared at him as though he had just announced that he’d laid an egg. “Come on, Molly,” he said, “you’ve been in my head. I’m an air force pilot.”

“Of course you are!” Molly exclaimed. “But…but what about a plane? Can you get us one?”

Malcolm thought. “I know the man to hypnotize to get a plane authorized. I can arrange to meet him at Northolt Air Base tonight.”

“Will it be safe to take off?” Lily asked. “I mean, the weather’s really bad.”

“Oh, I’ve flown in hundreds of storms before,” Malcolm reassured them. “We just need to get up above the cloud as quickly as possible. Then it will be plain sailing.”

“Airplane sailing?” Molly said with a smile.

“You got it.”

Miss Hunroe was perched elegantly on a green baize stool in a clearing in a rain forest. A wall of rock was the backdrop to where she sat. A thin stream of mountain water gurgled from a crack in the rock there. It filled up a small pool and then drained deep into the earth beneath.

All about were luscious, broad-leaved trees, with vines climbing through them. Bushes and long-stalked ferns covered the ground nearby.

Two huge, teardrop-shaped rocks flanked her. One was a fiery red-and-orange color and the other blue, though not merely one blue. This stone was turquoise and azure, and sparkling blue flashed from deep within it. Two more granite “eggs”—one of these made up of complicated gray tones with flecks of fluffy or wispy white in it, and another a cacophony of greens—were in the clearing, too, completing the circle of Logan Stones. Miss Oakkton, stout as a stuffed cabbage, sat on a low box between the blue stone and the gray stone. Miss Teriyaki sat cross-legged on a brightly woven rug on the ground between the gray stone and the green stone. Miss Speal was on a rough, makeshift, wooden bench between the green stone and the red one.

In the middle of the ring of Logan Stones was an ancient termite mound the size of a giant toy wigwam, with turrets and twisting towers like a mad sandcastle. A mist of low cloud hung in the air above and draped the trees like a silken veil. It filtered the sun’s rays so that the space where the ghastly women sat was filled with warm green sunlight.

Miss Hunroe wore a smart khaki-colored suit and a gauze scarf over her head. Batting flies from her face with a white-gloved hand, she suddenly slapped her neck.

“Blasted bugs! Why is it they always want to eat me?”

Miss Oakkton, cloaked in green, squatting on her box and puffing away at her tortoiseshell pipe, said, “Zay don’t seem to like the smoke of my pipe. Would you like to borrow it?”

“Certainly not,” Miss Hunroe retorted, curling her rosebud lips. “I don’t like your smoke either.”

Miss Teriyaki dug in her pink silk bag and produced a small white canister. “Repellent?”

Miss Hunroe shook her head. “I’m already doused in it. Any more and I’ll be highly flammable.”

The four women were still in silent concentration for a moment. “It’s not as easy as it seemed it might be,” Miss Hunroe commented. She pulled out her coin from her pocket and began flipping it along her fingers.

“No, but ve vill get ze hang of it,” Miss Oakkton replied optimistically. Miss Hunroe sighed happily. Miss Oakkton chuckled like an old turkey. “And is everyone over the altitude sickness?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, yes,” the women lied.

“Good. So everything is going as planned. And almost all of us are doing so well,” Miss Hunroe said mysteriously. Immediately the group was set on edge. “Miss Teriyaki…” Miss Teriyaki looked up with a terrified look on her face, expecting a terrible scolding. Miss Hunroe quelled her fears. “I admired the way you intercepted Black’s bag and made off with it.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Hunroe,” Miss Teriyaki said, as though she’d just been given a prize. “I’m glad you noticed.” She smiled smugly at the other women.