The airplane carrying the Detectives landed in Bilbao late in the afternoon. As Kuba, Patrycja, Alfred, and Zofia stepped out of the terminal, they immediately felt they had arrived somewhere very special.
„This is the Basque Country,” Patrycja explained, looking at her guidebook. „In Basque, it’s called Euskal Herria. It’s a unique region in northern Spain and southern France.”
„What makes it so special?” Kuba asked, adjusting his hat.
„The Basques have their own language, called Euskera,” Zofia said. „It’s a very old language, unlike any other in the world. No one really knows where it came from.”
„Look!” Alfred shouted, pointing at the airport sign. „The writing is in two languages: Spanish and Basque. Basque has strange letters—lots of 'x’, 'k’, and 'z’.”
„That’s because Euskera sounds completely different from Spanish,” Patrycja added. „The Basques are very proud of their language and culture. To them, their language is a treasure they’ve protected for thousands of years.”
Kuba nodded respectfully. „I understand. Every nation has the right to protect what is important to it.”
The Detectives took out the Magical Golden Stone from their pouch. Immediately, it began to spin, clearly pointing south, toward the center of Bilbao.
„It’s leading us somewhere specific,” Zofia noticed.
„I bet the compass is hidden in the city’s most famous place,” Kuba said. „Mikołaj always hides his things in meaningful spots.”
They rented a small car and followed the stone’s direction. After a short drive, they reached the bank of the Nervión River. There, on the right side, stood something extraordinary.
„Wow,” Zofia whispered, „It looks like… a spaceship!”
Before them was a huge, shiny building covered with silver-titanium plates that sparkled in the sunlight like fish scales. The building’s wavy, curved shapes made it seem as if it was always moving.
„This is the Guggenheim Museum,” Patrycja read from the guidebook. „One of the most famous modern art museums in the world. It was designed by a famous architect and opened in 1997. It changed the whole city.”
They parked nearby. As they stepped out, two unusual sculptures caught their eyes.
Right by the museum entrance stood a giant… dog.
„A dog?” Kuba asked, surprised.
„It’s a sculpture called 'Puppy’,” Patrycja explained. „It’s made from live flowers! It’s over twelve meters tall. People have to water it regularly and replace flowers to keep it looking beautiful.”
The dog’s fur was made of thousands of colorful begonias, petunias, and other flowers, forming a living, fragrant carpet.
But the surprises didn’t end there. On the other side of the entrance, just before the museum’s glass doors, stood a huge metal spider.
„What a big spider!” Alfred exclaimed, looking up. „Good thing it’s not real… and not an ant!”
The sculpture was nearly ten meters tall. Its eight thin, long legs bent at strange angles, as if the spider was about to move. Hanging under its belly were white marble eggs.
„This sculpture is called 'Maman,’ which means 'Mommy’ in French,” Zofia read. „The artist made it to honor her mother, who was a weaver. The spider symbolizes a mother’s strength, patience, and care.”
The Detectives stood exactly between the dog and the spider. Patrycja took out the Magical Golden Stone.
„Now it should point exactly to where the compass is,” she said.
But to their surprise, the stone began to spin again… and pointed clearly east, away from the museum.
„What?” Kuba said. „I don’t understand. This is the most famous place here!”
„Maybe the compass isn’t inside the museum,” Patrycja thought, frowning. „Or maybe someone disturbed the stone’s magic, using the museum’s big metal structure, which acts like a giant magnet. After all, there’s a lot of steel under that titanium facade.”
Alfred nodded. „Anything is possible. But the stone is still guiding us. Let’s trust the magic. It knows better.”
They got back in the car and drove east, following the stone’s direction. The road wound along the coast—on their left shimmered the sea, on their right rose green hills.
After an hour, they reached the city of San Sebastian. They parked on the main street and got out.
„Look!” Zofia pointed at the bay.
Before them stretched one of the most beautiful beaches they had ever seen. It was shaped like a perfect shell—a curved bay with golden sand, surrounded on both sides by mountains, with a small island right in the middle.
„This is La Concha beach,” Patrycja said. „‘Concha’ means 'shell’ or 'seashell’ in Spanish. It’s named that because the bay looks exactly like a shell.”
„Beautiful,” Zofia whispered.
Kuba checked the guidebook. „The Spanish royal family spends their holidays here. This is one of the most famous places in all of Spain. There are also two hills: Monte Urgull and Monte Igueldo, an old stone bridge, and—” he licked his lips— „the best restaurants in the Basque Country! Basque steaks are famous worldwide.”
„Kuba, now is not the time to think about food,” Patrycja scolded him gently.
She took out the stone. This time it pointed south, into the city’s heart.
„What could be there?” Alfred wondered. „Restaurants? Hills? The bridge?”
„I don’t know,” Patrycja said. „But we have to follow the stone.”
They walked through the narrow streets of the old town, passing colorful house fronts, small shops, and crowds of tourists. The stone led them farther from the city center until they reached the outskirts of San Sebastian.
In front of them stood a modern glass building with big letters: „Kutxa Museoa – Museo de la Ciencia.”
„A science museum,” Zofia read aloud.
„The stone is leading right here,” Patrycja confirmed, watching the glowing disk in her hand.
Inside, in the main hall under the high ceiling, hung something extraordinary: a huge, heavy pendulum swinging slowly back and forth.
„This is Foucault’s pendulum!” Patrycja exclaimed excitedly. „Leon Foucault invented it to prove that the Earth rotates. The pendulum hangs on a very long wire and swings while the Earth moves beneath it. It looks like the pendulum changes direction—but really, we’re the ones moving!”
„So this pendulum measures the Earth’s rotation?” Zofia asked.
„Exactly,” Patrycja said. „It shows how time and movement connect.”
„I wouldn’t be surprised if Mikołaj hid the compass here,” Kuba said.
The stone in Patrycja’s hand began to vibrate even stronger. It pointed clearly downward, under the pendulum’s base.
Alfred carefully looked under the metal platform holding the exhibit. There, hidden in a small steel box, lay…
„The compass,” he whispered.
He took it out gently. It was an ordinary green tourist compass. Nothing special—no decorations, no sparkle.
„It’s… just a simple compass,” Kuba said, surprised.
Patrycja pressed the Magical Golden Stone to it. The stone instantly spun wildly.
„This is it!” she shouted. „Mikołaj’s compass!”
Suddenly, a shadow jumped out from behind the large exhibit. It was Jackal Szymon! He had been following them all along. He lunged quickly at Alfred, trying to snatch the compass from his hands.
„Give it back!” snarled Jackal, tugging at the compass.
He almost pulled it away, but clever Anteater held tightly to the string that attached the compass to the box.
„Don’t even think about it!” Kuba roared and cleverly tripped Jackal with his leg.
Jackal lost his balance, flailed his arms like a windmill, spun around, and—CRASH!—fell onto the floor with a loud bang, knocking over a stand with leaflets that scattered everywhere.
„Ouch!” Jackal cried, lying face down among the papers.
Kuba was about to catch him, but Jackal was quicker than they expected. He threw off his red vest, slipped out from under it, and ran toward the window.
„Stop!” Alfred shouted.
But Jackal jumped out the open window, ran across the steel bridge over a small stream gorge, and vanished between the hospital buildings nearby.
„He escaped!” Kuba panted.
„But we have the compass,” Patrycja said calmly, taking it from Alfred and safely tucking it into her backpack. „That’s what matters most.”
They left the museum and crossed the steel bridge where Jackal had fled. The bridge hung over a small gorge with a lively stream below.
„Look,” Zofia said, pointing to the end of the bridge. „What a beautiful hotel!”
Across the way stood an elegant building with a wooden facade blending into the green hills. The hotel looked like something from a fairy tale—cozy, warm, and perfectly part of nature.
„This is Hotel Arima,” Patrycja read from the sign. „It looks wonderful.”
„One day, we’ll come back here,” Kuba said with a smile. „And stay at this hotel—after we save Christmas.”
They sat on a bench in a nearby park. Patrycja took out the compass and looked at it again.
„Strange,” she said. „Such a simple compass. But the Golden Stone never lies. This is definitely Mikołaj’s compass.”
„Maybe magic doesn’t always look like magic,” Zofia added thoughtfully.
Kuba sighed.
„Now we have to fly to Lapland. To Mikołaj. To give him the compass so he can deliver presents on time.”
Patrycja checked flights on her small tablet.
„The next flight to Rovaniemi is tomorrow morning, with a layover in Helsinki. This will be…” she hesitated, „the last time we have to pretend to be humans.”
„Last time,” Zofia repeated with relief. „In Lapland, we’ll be safe. Mikołaj will take care of us.”
Alfred nodded.
„But remember,” he said, „Jackal Szymon is still out there. He tried to steal the compass. He won’t give up.”
„We’ll be vigilant,” Patrycja said firmly. „The compass is with us now, and nothing will separate it from Mikołaj.”
The sun began to set over La Concha Bay. The sky shimmered with shades of pink and orange, and the waves gently whispered to the shore.
„Only two weeks until Christmas,” Kuba whispered.
„And the last stage of the journey,” Zofia added.
„Lapland awaits,” Alfred concluded.
Patrycja looked at the compass in her hand, then at her friends.
„We’re close,” she said quietly. „Very close. We’ll make it. We must.”
That evening, in a small hotel on a western hill with a beautiful view of San Sebastian’s panorama and La Concha Bay, the Detectives booked their tickets for the morning flight. Mikołaj’s compass lay safe in Patrycja’s backpack, wrapped in a soft cloth.
Only two weeks remained until Christmas. The mission was almost over.
But Jackal Szymon was still out there, lurking in the shadows.