Seb cocks his head to one side and sticks out his tongue at Der Führer. ‘I’m not scared of you! You’re a big bully with silly hair and a stupid moustache and … and a rid-ridinkulous salute! Look!’ Seb imitates the Nazi salute and then waggles his fingers wildly, adding a big, wet raspberry through his missing teeth for good measure.

Hitler pale face turns pink. He purses his lips and narrows his eyes into an expression of pure fury and he barks a command.

The female officer leans forward and points to the letters SS on her collar.

‘Ha, my little friend! Do you know what these letters stand for?’

Thanks to Fit Billy’s obsession with World War Two, I do. They stand for Schutzstaffel – Hitler’s dreaded Nazi paramilitary police force. But I don’t know if Seb knows. (Nor do I like the way things are going. Bravery and excitement are all very well, but I am getting very close to calling it quits with the Emergency Escape.)

Seb peers at the letters and adopts an innocent expression. ‘SS?’ he says, and then he pauses for comic effect. ‘Are you a member of the Secret Seven?’

It takes a second or two for the SS officer to register what Seb has said, then she screams the German word for ‘no’, ‘Nein!’

‘Nope. I’ve read the books,’ says Seb. ‘I’m pretty sure there’s only seven.’

‘Insolence!’ she hisses. ‘Mein Führer! We must make an example of these English boys!’

Hitler nods solemnly and waves his hand casually as if to say, Get on with it then!

‘Very well. Bring it out.’

The officer strides to the rear of the big Mercedes and pops open the boot. Nothing happens for a moment, then a long crocodile flops on to the ground and uncurls itself, turning its head until it faces me.

I recognise it immediately and a chill goes through me from my skull to my toes.

Cuthbert.

This is not in the plan.

Chapter 41

I stare at the crocodile from my childhood nightmares.

This is not meant to happen!

On the other hand, I’m quite looking forward to seeing the expression of Hitler’s face when this massive crocodile turns into a furry toy in front of him. A murmur goes round the crowd, and Hitler turns away as though he does not want to witness what comes next.

It’s okay, Malky. You know what to do. Remember last time?

The last time I had seen Cuthbert had been the very first Dreaminator dream: the one in the classroom, when he had emerged from beneath the desk I was standing on. Just as I had done then, I extend my hand and say, Cuthbert!’, then, ‘Stop!’

It doesn’t work.

Instead of turning into a cuddly toy before my eyes, the beast rises a little on its stumpy legs and starts coming towards me.