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nodded excitedly. “I know!”
    â€œEach class will be given a different area to search,” Mr Trenchard said. “If the satellite turns out to be in your area, your task is to recover it and bring it back here at once. Now, any questions?”
    â€œWhat’s it called?” a tall boy near the front asked.
    â€œApparently it’s called Nigel,” Mr Trenchard said. “Oh, no, hang on—that’s the man who sent me this email. Who’d call a satellite by a person’s name? What a silly idea.” He inspected the sheet more closely. “Ah, here we are. It’s actually our new Remote Orbital Satellite Information Equipment. Or ROSIE, for short. Any more questions?”
    Mr Cryption cleared his throat, and asked: “Flammable geography rewind heart-shaped cashflow butter antelopes?”
    Mr Trenchard nodded. “Very good question. The answer, without a shadow of doubt, is Wednesday . Now then, everyone back to your classrooms where your teachers will handle your mission briefings.”
    He had almost finished speaking when Miss Fortune leaped from her chair, clenched her fists, and with a cry of “Geronimo!” threw herself off the stage into the unsuspecting audience. The hall cleared very quickly.

Chapter 7
    There were groans of disappointment when Miss Jones told Class 3D that the Upper School would be doing most of the work to find the satellite.
    â€œBut we’ve got PE this afternoon,” Harry complained. “Can’t we look for it then?”
    â€œWell, there’s nothing to stop you, although the Chaplain would have to agree.” Miss Jones clapped her hands together. “But first we have double Science. I’d like you tocarry on with your projects, please. Alfie—you can help Beth.”
    The other children in Class 3D were attaching wires to light bulbs and batteries and buzzers. The lights lit and the buzzers buzzed. But Beth was working on something rather more complicated.
    She tipped a mass of wires and cables and circuits and electrical components out of a shoebox and started to plug them all together.
    â€œWhat are we making?” Alfie asked as he held a wire for her.
    â€œIt was going to be a machine to tell you when your toast is done,” Beth said. “When it’s ready, a buzzer sounds and a light comes on. Miss Jones said we had to build something with buzzers and lights.”
    â€œWhy not just use a toaster?” Alfie asked. “The toast pops up when it’s done.”
    â€œBecause it doesn’t flash and buzz,” Beth pointed out. “Anyway, I’m changing it. It’s not going to be anything to do with toast.”
    â€œThen what is it?” Alfie asked. But when he saw Beth’s wide grin, he guessed: “It’s a satellite detector, isn’t it?”
    â€œDon’t tell Miss Jones,” Beth said quietly. “Or the Chaplain. We’ll test it in PE.”
    â€œWon’t the Chaplain notice?” Alfie asked.
    â€œWe’ll have to hide it. Though it will be a bit big. And it will only detect the satellite when it’s very close, so we need to make it portable.”
    â€œToo big and heavy to carry?”
    Beth nodded.
    Looking at the device that was starting to take shape, Alfie had an idea. “Why don’t we build it into Sam’s wheelchair?”
    If the Chaplain noticed that Sam’s wheelchair now had various wires and attachments added, along with a tall radio aerial, he didn’t mention it. He was probably too busy talking about how children today had it easy and itwas never like this in Bomber Command.
    â€œI thought you were a fighter pilot not a bomber, sir?” Harry said.
    â€œThat too,” the Chaplain barked. “Intrepid pilot. Went on a hundred and three sorties in one month alone. Survived 97 of them. Jerry never knew what was going to happen to him next, I can tell you.”
    â€œJerry?”