Jane Blonde: Twice the Spylet Read online

  Jill Marshall moved from the United Kingdom to New Zealand, along with her small daughter and her even smaller mad dog. Her childhood ambition was to become an author, so in 2001 Jill gave up her career at a huge international company to concentrate on writing for children. When not working, writing and being a mum, Jill plays guitar, takes singing lessons and is learning to play the drum kit she has set up in the garage. One day she might even sing in a band again . . .

  Look out for the fourth book in the Jane Blonde series:

  Jane Blonde, Spylet on Ice.

  visit jane's spytacular website www.meetjaneblonde.com

  Also by Jill Marshall

  Jane Blonde, Sensational Spylet*

  Jane Blonde Spies Trouble

  Look out for

  Jane Blonde, Spylet on Ice

  * also available in audio

  MACMILLAN CHILDREN’S BOOKS

  First published 2007 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  This electronic edition published 2007 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited

  20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR

  Basingstoke and Oxford

  Associated companies throughout the world

  www.panmacmillan.com

  ISBN 978-0-330-47100-8 in Adobe Reader format

  ISBN 978-0-330-47101-5 in Adobe Digital Editions format

  ISBN 978-0-330-47102-2 in Microsoft Reader format

  ISBN 978-0-330-47103-9 in Mobipocket format

  Copyright © Jill Marshall 2007

  The right of Jill Marshall to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Visit www.panmacmillan.com to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases.

  To all the people who make this so easy and such a pleasure: wonderful Rachel, Talya, dom and the macmillan UK guys; lovely Angie and Chris and the macmillan nz team; Karen, Kathy, Kim, Jules and Stina for mucho coffee, larfs and sanity checks; Glenys for huge support, friendship and recipes; Katie and pals for inspiring me always and making me laugh on a daily basis; and all those toptastic spylets out there (especially Anna, Sadie, mollie, emma, Gabriela and Shannon – you know who you are!), who are all Twice the Spylet too. Spy on, dudettes.

  For Christine, Gary and Leigh, my own very original siblings, with love

  Contents

  1

  spy-cleaning

  2

  two-way mirrors

  3

  double trouble

  4

  twice as nice

  5

  spinny twinny

  6

  earth-mover

  7

  dubbo seven

  8

  easter feaster

  9

  spylet spirals

  10

  down down under

  11

  love or hate

  12

  cones and chloe

  13

  sheep to keep

  14

  nifty nostrils

  15

  nosy neighbours

  16

  the cinderella defect

  17

  hands, knees and bumpsamaisies

  18

  family and friends

  19

  a dressing down

  20

  jean genie

  21

  barmy army

  22

  spy-plane

  23

  a satispying result

  24

  wower power

  25

  spiy-days and holidays

  spy-cleaning

  Jane Blonde, Sensational Spylet, stepped out of the car wash and looked around her. Her slick black Ultra-gog glasses penetrated the shadows circling Abe ’n’ Jean’s Clean Machines (MAKE YOUR CAR A STAR!). Somewhere out there, G-Mamma, her SPI:KE (Solomon’s Polificational Investigations: Kid Educator), was posing as an enemy for her to thwart. It was no longer enough simply to try to get out of harm’s way. Two missions in which she’d barely skirted death had taught them that. Jane Blonde had to learn to get ready. Be on the offensive. Fight.

  Of course, it helped that this was no ordinary car wash. It had been set up by her father, super-SPI Boz ‘Brilliance’ Brown, when he’d used his amazing Crystal Clarification Process to transform himself into another human being: Abe Rownigan. He’d then gone into business with Janey’s mother, his wife, former super-SPI Gina Bellarina, who had been brain-wiped for her own safety and now led a simple life as Jean Brown, mother of one Janey Brown and cleaner extraordinaire.

  Mrs Brown had no idea that the car wash was actually an enormous Wower – a spy shower into which a girl had stepped earlier, a girl with fine mousy hair and scabby knees like knots in string. Janey had giggled as angled jets of steam darted across her, enveloping her in glistening transformational droplets. Unlike the Wower in G-Mamma’s Spylab, which had just two robotic hands to impregnate her hair with a platinum gleam and coax it into a sleek multi-function ponytail, this Wower-with-knobs-on had eight – enough to work on the largest saloon car. In no time at all she had been scrubbed of her ordinariness, wrapped in air-light, air-tight silver Lycra and buffeted into shiny Jane Blonde fabulousness, complete with the most bouffant, bouncy topknot of a ponytail she had ever had.

  G-Mamma’s voice hissed from the SPI Visualator around Janey’s neck. ‘Remember – look for their Achilles heel.’

  ‘What was that again?’ whispered Janey. Despite the powerful certainty that coursed through her whenever she had Wowed into Jane Blonde, she was still a tiny bit nervous of what lay ahead. The most adventurous thing she’d done in the last few weeks was school-crossing patrol, but now that school was over for the Easter holidays, G-Mamma was insistent that her spy training should be ramped up.

  ‘Their weakness, Blondette. Use your strength against their weakness. Bogies, two o’clock.’

  Janey took a moment to realize that G-Mamma wasn’t being disgusting, and she spun around to her right. The enemy was approaching, racing at her with long blonde hair streaming out behind her and a Fur-Real Pet dachshund yapping at her heels.

  ‘Ariel!’ It was Janey’s first enemy – or rather, someone pretending to be Janey’s first enemy.

  Ariel was nearly upon her, and Janey found herself staring down the barrel of a small bronze pistol. ‘OK, Blonde,’ she said under her breath. ‘Go to it.’

  She banged both feet down hard against the ground, and the Fleet-feet she wore propelled her right over Ariel’s head. She knew she had to turn herself into a moving target – much more difficult to hit than a fixed one – and make sure that her face, the only bit of her that wasn’t protected by her bullet-proof SPIsuit, was out of harm’s way. Ariel spun round with the gun waving madly in Janey’s direction, and Janey knew she had her. Ariel wasn’t strong. She was little and wiry and devious, but not as power-packed as Janey. Taking her by surprise, Janey stopped abruptly, took a quick step backwards, so that Ariel cannoned into her
with her arm still extended and now trapped under Janey’s armpit, and wrenched the gun out of Ariel’s hand. She whipped around, trained the pistol on the enemy’s face and pulled off the long, blonde wig to reveal G-Mamma’s boingy curls and beaming smile. ‘My turn with the gun, Goldilocks,’ Blonde said with a grin.

  ‘Good, Blonde-girl,’ squeaked G-Mamma, trying to imitate Ariel’s high-pitched voice. ‘Now get the gun out of my face, run once around the car wash and I’ll be ready for you when you’re back.’

  Janey took off around the shed from which she’d emerged only moments earlier. She threw her head back to the sky as she Fleet-footed around the car wash, as wild and free and lightning-fast as a cheetah.

  In no time she was back at the front of the car wash. What now? she wondered. Her last real enemy had been another girl, Paulette Solay, who had turned out to be the half-sister of her best friend and fellow Spylet Alfie Halliday, aka Al Halo. Maybe it would be the French girl, but Janey knew better than to make assumptions. There was a scrabbling sound from the bushes; Janey braced herself for what was coming next. It was the rat-dog – or rather, G-Mamma on all fours gnashing her teeth, with Trouble on her head yowling like a werewolf and snapping his head back and forth. He’d seen the rat-dog at very close quarters so knew exactly what to do.

  ‘Easy,’ breathed Janey. The enemy didn’t like water; that much she knew. She couldn’t get to the hosepipes before big rat-dog was upon her, but she had a water substitute. With her left hand tightly gripping her Girl-gauntleted right hand, she crouched down, forward rolled until she was directly before the fake beast, then slashed across G-Mamma’s sleeve with the pen nib that she’d forced out of her Girl-gauntlet glove and squeezed with all her might. Midnight-blue ink squirted all over G-Mamma’s arm, and as the SPI:KE turned to stare in horror at the disastrous stain on her fuschia-pink SPIsuit, Janey forward rolled again, planted a foot into the shoulder of both SPI:KE and Spycat and shoved them asunder.

  ‘Brilliant, brilliant. Cost me a SPIsuit, girly-girl, but you can make it up to me in Easter eggs.’ G-Mamma brushed herself down and checked that Trouble was OK. He was purring like a tractor. ‘Not had so much fun in ages, have you, Twubs? Right. Off around the block, Blonde, and back here in thirty seconds.’

  And so they went on, Jane Blonde fighting off pretend enemies old and new with a mixture of gymnastic grace and good old gadgets – even using her gleaming ponytail to dangle Trouble over the car wash when she guessed that an enemy’s weakness was that he didn’t like heights. In seconds she had knotted her hair through his collar, shot up the side of the building on her ASPIC hoverboard (Aeronautical SPI Conveyor), used the grip of her Girl-gauntlet to climb up the metal chimney stack and whisked Trouble into the chimney with a flick of her head so that there was thirty feet of blackness below him.

  ‘Sorry, Trouble,’ she said a moment later, cuddling him close as she clambered back down to G-Mamma.

  ‘Don’t you fuss over him,’ said the SPI:KE. ‘He’s quite happy to do it, and anyway, you never know when you might have to fight one of your friends.’

  Janey shook her head. ‘I could never do that, G-Mamma.’

  ‘Well, just remember how many of your enemies have tried to be your friend at some stage.’ What G-Mamma said was true. Both Ariel and Paulette had befriended Janey as a way of getting what they wanted. ‘Achilles heel – remember that.’

  Janey thought about that all the way home in the Clean Jean van that G-Mamma had ‘borrowed’ for the occasion. She relied on her friends a lot. It had taken her a long time to find them – G-Mamma, Trouble, Alfie and his mother (who was either headmistress Maisie Halliday or super-SPI Halo, depending on what was going on) and the very best new friend of all, her dad: Boz Brilliance Brown aka Solomon Brown aka Abe Rownigan. She sighed. Where was he now? And when would he get in touch with her again?

  ‘It’s dawn.’ G-Mamma pointed at the pink sky illuminating the city. ‘Just time to de-Wow and do a bit more training before that mother of yours wakes up.’

  Janey nodded, holding back a yawn. She was pretty tired, but there was no way she would escape G-Mamma in this kind of mood. Furthermore, she had to do whatever she could to get along with her SPI:KE right now. Janey had only just been forgiven for nearly blowing the whole of their spy organization, Solomon’s Polificational Investigations, wide open: she’d hung on to a piece of LipSPICK (the ruler-like Lip-activated SPI-Camera Kilobank that allowed video footage to be transferred to any location, given the right lip-print), which brought an image of her father to life, just for a moment or two, every time she gave it a tiny kiss. Unfortunately Copernicus – SPI’s most sinister enemy – had seen it too. Now her father had been forced into hiding again, her mother had been re-brain-wiped so she didn’t remember anything much about her husband, and Janey had to tread very carefully around G-Mamma.

  ‘OK,’ she said reluctantly as they climbed the spiral staircase to G-Mamma’s Spylab. ‘Just for an hour though. Then I really do need to clean up my room. I was supposed to do it last night.’

  G-Mamma pulled a face. ‘Cleaning? Euw. Well, don’t expect me to help you with that! Although . . . hmmm, yippy yes yo-yos. It seems like as good a time as any to spy-proof your room. Go on, girly-girl, let’s clean!’

  For the next forty minutes, Janey put away her stray books, righted and polished her mirror, vacuumed furiously and returned all her puzzle books and other SPI-buys – gadgets she’d received as presents over the years – to the box under her bed in which she stored these treasures. ‘G-Mamma,’ she said eventually, ‘what has this got to do with spying? And why are you sitting there watching?’

  ‘You missed a bit.’ G-Mamma sniffed, licking icing sugar off her fingers from the doughnut she’d been sure to bring with her. ‘And for your information, I am not watching, I am SPI:King. We’ll be able to lay traps only when you know exactly where everything is and that everything is spanky clean and sparkly. That’ll do. Now,’ she said as she jumped off the bed, ‘back to that mirror.’

  As they stood before the dressing table G-Mamma licked the end of her little finger and drew a short line across the surface of the glass.

  ‘I just polished that!’ said Janey.

  ‘Watch and learn, Zany Janey. Watch and learn.’

  The track of saliva on the mirror had completely disappeared. Janey looked at it and shrugged. What did that prove? But then G-Mamma leaned forward and blew gently on her reflection. A puff of condensation clouded the mirror, and right across the polished surface was a clear finger-width line.

  ‘You see?’ G-Mamma stood back to let the mist clear, then did it again.

  ‘Right, I get that now. If someone comes in and breathes on the mirror, I’ll be able to see it.’

  ‘Yes! Or you can leave an invisible message for me to pick up. Good. Now, what else?’ G-Mamma rummaged around in her capacious bib pocket and pulled out a large container of baby powder. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not for your biddy botty. Tell me, what did you touch last?’

  ‘Erm, the bookshelf,’ said Janey.

  ‘All righty.’ Crossing over to the bookshelf, G-Mamma sprinkled talcum powder over the surface of the last book Janey had popped on top of its pile.

  ‘Good idea, fingerprints!’ Janey could hardly believe it.

  G-Mamma nodded. ‘You lift them off with sticky tape and stick them on dark paper so you can see them properly. And keep them as a record of your fingerprints, so you’ll know which are somebody else’s.’

  ‘I know,’ said Janey.

  Now she was on the case. She followed G-Mamma around, fascinated, as the SPI:KE opened a drawer slightly and drew a pencil line on its side to mark its position so Janey could tell if anyone moved it, then drew another faint line down the side of the stack of homework books on Janey’s desk for the same purpose. Finally, G-Mamma leaned over to Janey’s head and yanked out a couple of her pale brown hairs.

  ‘Ow! You could have warned me.’

  ‘What’s the sp
y motto, Blondette? Surprise, surprise, surprise. Now stop whingeing and get busy.’ Once again G-Mamma licked the end of her finger, but this time she used it to moisten the ends of the hairs she’d plucked from Janey’s head and stuck one across the window frame and the other across the lid of Janey’s SPI-buys box. ‘Invisible to everyone else, but if you come back in and those hairs are broken or missing, we’ll know someone’s been in here.’

  ‘G-Mamma, that’s brilliant!’ Janey was amazed. She’d learned about this stuff, but it was great to be putting it into practice to spy-proof her room. ‘It’s like . . . proper spying.’

  ‘You don’t say, Blondette,’ said G-Mamma, looking rather hurt. ‘I am a proper spy, you know, not just a glamour queen. Oh heck, there’s your mother.’ She headed for the tunnel as Jean Brown called up the stairs. ‘Don’t forget to buy me an Easter egg while you’re out.’

  G-Mamma’s voice became muffled as she went further down the tunnel, and Janey grinned as her SPI:KE’s hippopotamus behind disappeared from view. As soon as the panel at the back of the fireplace had slid shut, Janey ran out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

  Her mother was standing by the door with a parcel in her hand. ‘This is funny. I didn’t think they delivered the post on Good Friday. Anyway, it’s addressed to you. Think it might be from . . . you know . . .’

  ‘From Abe?’ Janey grabbed the parcel, shot down the hall and into the kitchen. The box was very similar to the one in which Janey stored her precious SPI-buys. Maybe it was another gadget! She ripped off the lid and rummaged around for a moment.

  ‘Oh, Janey, they’re great! Perfect for the summer. And just your size,’ said her mum over her shoulder.