14. Any Suggestions?

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Twenty four hastily collected Masterminds sat, stood and leaned against the green velvet wallpaper in the front salon, the majority of them staring down the four police officers in front of the hearth with intimidatingly blank or creepily unfocused gazes. Some drooled, some faked infernal itches and a few stared at the walls and made faces.

Such tactics weren't Society policy as such, but it was standard procedure with gate crashers and other unwanteds who attempted to gain access to Society rooms without a legitimate sponsor. Especially protected were the basement laboratories and the sauna, which were defended tooth and nail. In the case of the labs, with blowtorch and chains, with the sauna, naked and armed only with a flimsy towel, if need be.

The four Metropolitans in their black uniforms and peaked helmets with the cog-and-lion emblem held their ground with their own fierce, guilt-inducing stares they'd practiced to proficiency in the unit "intimidation of witnesses" in police training. But even they knew when they were beat, because in a real staring contest, they wouldn't have stood a chance against the crowd in front of them.

The entire room was unmistakably full of lunatics.

Internally they all breathed a sigh of relief that they were on official police business and not in a public house. Otherwise they all would have picked up their tankards and fled to the other side of the room, or perhaps even out onto the pavement, sharpish.

Inspector Gusset cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"Good evening, my name is Inspector Hieronymus Gusset. I'm sure you all are wondering why we have interrupted your...society activities. As you will no doubt have heard, a popular exhibit at London Zoo has escaped from its—"

"Not another one," shouted Robbie McCringle from the back where he stood clutching his pint glass and glaring at the youngest of the officers. "First they lose a bloody huge octopus and now? A herd of sloths? A particularly cunning turtle?"

Titters rose here and there, accompanied by a few snorts and a sharp cackle from Harriet that was quickly smothered with a braid of hair.

Inspector Gusset drew a deep breath. He'd known this wouldn't be easy. 

"No, sir, not that we're aware of. Our visit concerns the original octopus. As some of you may have read in the papers, we have unfortunately been unable to locate the beast. We are here to ask you for your kind assistance."

"We don't have it, if that's what you mean," Millie Goldwalken said. "Where'd we put it? I dare say none of us got a bathtub that big and it didn't look like it would be satisfied with a helping of herring every other Saturday afternoon for tea. More like that herd of sloths."

Gusset shook his head and gripped his peaked helmet, which he held in the crook of his arm, more tightly. "No, madam, we are not accusing anyone here. We have merely come to ask for ideas, hints or tips, which would aid us in its capture. You are after all the famed Mastermind Society, noted for your inventors, your skilled mechanics and other creative...individuals."

A reddish tinge crept up Gusset's neck and flushed his stern features.

In the crowd, he'd just spotted the leering visage of an individual he knew to have operated a posh flying pasty booth whose cheese-and-beef special had once had him squatting in the station loo for an entire afternoon. 

Gusset shoved down the hot urge to loudly arrest the man right then and there for deliberately tampering with the lunch of an officer of the Metropolitan Police Brigade before dragging him back to the station and forcing him to drink six pots of filthy station tea until he was the one squatting in the loo for hours.

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