Jane Blonde: Spies Trouble Page 11

  The Spylets cruised to a stop. Fixing the ASPIC around her leg, Janey stepped towards the source of the light and then drew back against the wall of the tunnel.

  ‘We are very, very high up,’ she said slowly. Wind whipped her platinum-blonde ponytail back and forth across her head. Cautiously she poked her head out of the end of the tunnel again and peeked upwards. Just above them was the rail that ran along the edge of the top reservoir. Splinters of wood from the shattered shed were just visible too.

  Alfie looked down at the huge drop beneath their feet. ‘I bet water normally gushes through this tunnel as an overflow for the top reservoir, but it all ran out into the lower reservoir when you opened the dam.’

  Janey felt sick. ‘I can’t believe it. So the wall of water I kite-surfed down last night must have been this high. I had no idea I’d fallen so far.’

  They were at least a hundred metres above the water, trapped in a hole in the mighty dam wall. Janey hardly trusted her feet to keep her upright.

  ‘We have to get down,’ said Alfie. He pulled at his belt.

  ‘How?’ Janey asked.

  Alfie clipped the buckle to a hook in the top of the tunnel similar to the one Janey had threaded her hair through when she rescued Trouble. ‘It’s a SuSPInder. Retractable long rope, to you and me. We’re going to abseil’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Janey, squashing herself against the curved tunnel wall as Alfie prepared to throw himself over the edge.

  ‘Well, unless you have a magic carpet, we’re all out of options.’

  Janey’s head whipped round as something in the distance caught her eye. ‘Focus!’ she rapped to the Ultra-gogs. ‘Zoom!’ She stared at a small figure running along the edge of the lower reservoir. ‘Paulette!’

  Alfie wrapped the SuSPInder around his waist and started to ease himself over the edge. ‘Come on then, let’s go after her.’

  ‘There’s no time, Alfie, we’ll lose her. And besides, I think . . . I do have a magic carpet! Hang on to my feet!’

  As quickly as her shaking fingers would allow, Janey unpinned the tiny kite brooch from her SPIsuit. ‘Please work!’ she yelled and tossed it high into the air.

  Janey held her breath. Had she just thrown a SPI-buy to the bottom of a reservoir, or was her instinct about to be rewarded? Suddenly the wind caught the brooch and sent it spinning upwards. Janey grinned as the sail unfolded, over and over, and the pin expanded into a crossbar. The sail floated above them like a great white eagle.

  ‘Ready?’ she yelled to Alfie, thrusting her face out into the buffeting wind. ‘Catch me!’

  Janey leaped out of the tunnel, arms windmilling as the sail filled with air above her. She reached out with one hand and managed to take hold of the crossbar. The sail pitched; Janey threw up her other arm and slapped her other hand into position.

  ‘Jump, Halo!’ she called to Alfie. He hesitated for just a moment, then lunged for her ankles. Wildly the Spylets dipped and swerved in the air, then Janey adjusted her grip, turned the nose of the sail towards Paulette and let the wind take them.

  ‘Ha! You’ve got a SPI-fly! This is fantastic!’ yelled Alfie from beneath her feet.

  Janey’s face was contorted into a weird gummy smile by the pummelling wind. She could feel with the instincts of a bird how the breeze billowed this way and that. As the sail tugged, Jane Blonde allowed it to cast itself into the best currents, and in just seconds they were coursing towards the water at the bottom of the lower reservoir. They whirled and flurried through the air, Janey steering them ever onward towards Paulette, who had seen them approaching and was now trying to run faster, skidding on the chalky soil as she headed for the trees. ‘I’m going down, Halo,’ yelled Janey. ‘You grab her!’

  ‘OK!’ Alfie’s voice drifted up faintly from below. He was already aiming his legs towards Paulette.

  By tipping her whole body forward, Janey managed to drive the sail down towards the path. She hung on as the whole kite shook like a leaf being torn from a branch, and Paulette looked up in terror as they descended on her.

  ‘Gotcha!’ Alfie scissored his ankles around Paulette’s shoulders and let go of Janey’s feet. ‘Oof!’

  Janey and the sail bounced up and forward again as Alfie’s weight was released. Steering carefully, she veered around and came in to land.

  ‘Ha! I wonder you can land on zose skinny little legs,’ shouted Paulette.

  Alfie had Paulette in a headlock on the gravel. She wasn’t struggling, but lay instead sneering at Janey, a white handkerchief twitching in her hand. ‘Surrender! Surrender, Alfie. So, Spylet wiz ze frozen brain, what are you going to do wiz me now?’

  Alfie tightened his grip. ‘We’ve got frozen brains, have we?’

  ‘Oh, not you, Alfie, no!’ protested Paulette, gagging slightly as she tried to turn her head to look at him. ‘No, just Janey ’ere.’

  ‘Leave it, Al,’ said Janey, taking the handkerchief from Paulette’s hand. It was wet and rather slimy, but she could clearly see that it was actually two handkerchiefs sewn together . . . ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘Maman gave it to me in case I caught a cold after running around near ze reservoir ’alf ze night,’ said Paulette airily.

  Janey stepped closer. ‘That’s Abe Rownigan’s handkerchief. Where is he?’

  Paulette shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Ze ’andkerchief was in ze water. Alfie, you are ’urting me.’

  ‘That’s sort of the point,’ said Alfie.

  ‘I can take you to ze place where I found it.’

  ‘Good,’ said Janey, and Alfie loosened his grip.

  Paulette sat up slowly. ‘It ees not so easy. You ’ave to give me somesing in return.’

  Janey raised her eyebrows. Of course, she should have realized that no deal with an enemy could be that straightforward.

  Paulette looked slyly from Janey to Alfie and back again. ‘I will show you Rownigan, if you give me ze one sing I really, really want.’

  ‘And what would that be?’ asked Janey suspiciously.

  A huge smile spread across Paulette’s face as she took hold of the arm around her neck. ‘’Ave you not guessed, Spylet wiz a small brain? It is Alfie. To get Abe Rownigan, you ’ave to give me Alfie.’

  Janey paled. Paulette had asked for something that was not hers to give. She shook her head, puzzled. ‘I can’t do that, Paulette. He’s a person, not an old toy.’

  ‘Quite right too, Blonde,’ said Alfie angrily. ‘Nobody’s giving me away. Look, why are you so obsessed with me, Paulette?’

  ‘I am not obsessed, Alfie. I love you, zat is all.’

  Alfie flung his arm off Paulette as if he’d been electrocuted. ‘Don’t be an idiot,’ he spluttered, looking as if he might vomit.

  ‘I am not an idiot, Alfie,’ said Paulette. ‘It is natural zat I love you. After all, you are ’alf my brother.’

  spy mums, spy dads

  ‘Half your what?’ gulped Janey, hoping desperately that she had misheard.

  ‘My brother,’ purred Paulette. ‘Is zat not nice, Alfie? You have ’alf a sister zat you knew nussing about!’

  Alfie shook his head as if he was waking himself from a nightmare. ‘It’s not true. I’m pretty sure Mum would have mentioned it if she’d had another baby.’

  ‘Non, non, non, Alfie!’ Paulette looked at him fondly. ‘Your ugly mother wiz ze revolting teeth did not ’ave another baby. It ees your father who had another baby. Wiz his second wife – my beautiful Maman. And ze baby was moi!’

  Janey watched the shock settle on to Alfie’s face in a frozen mask and remembered instantly the confusion and pain she had experienced herself when she discovered that her Uncle Solomon was actually her father, Boz Brilliance Brown. ‘Do you think it’s possible, Al?’ she said gently. ‘Your dad didn’t die, did he?’

  ‘He . . . he just left, as far as I know.’

  ‘And was he a diplomat like Paulette’s father?’

  Slowly Alfie nodded. ‘Yes. And, well, a spy, of
course. He went off to work in Europe – and sent postcards now and then.’

  Janey suddenly realized something. Something terrible. ‘Paulette, who is your father?’ she asked solemnly.

  ‘You must know by now! C’est le Roi Soleil! Ze Sun King, of course,’ said Paulette, preening smugly. ‘And ’e is very close by.’

  ‘Why?’ shouted Alfie. ‘Why couldn’t he just stay away?’

  Paulette patted Alfie’s hand. ‘Our father wants very much to ’ave ’is family back, all around ’im. His spies, his wife, his daughter . . . and his son. You, Alfie.’ Paulette gazed at her newfound sibling as if she’d been given all her Christmas presents at once. ‘And once we force Solomon to change our rats back into people, we will learn the nine-lives secret – and we will be immortal! If you promise to leave Alfie wiz me, Janey, I will take you to zis Abraham Rownigan.’

  Janey couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘It’s up to Alfie what happens.’

  The girl let out a peal of piercing laughter. ‘Well, I am not so sure about that.’ Paulette then pulled on the chain around her neck and produced a large locket. She opened it to reveal a double window. ‘’Ello, Papa, are you there? Per’aps you could show me who ’as come by today.’

  The robotic answer chilled them. ‘It’s nice of your school to do home visits.’

  Janey and Alfie watched, transfixed, as Paulette showed them the image in her SPIV. From what appeared to be a black screen, the fuzzy picture sharpened. It was a tank, very deep and getting deeper as froth and foam gushed over the top. Pinned to the bottom was an anguished-looking Maisie Halliday. Her face bobbed like a balloon just above the surface scum of the rising water.

  ‘Sorry, Alfie,’ she said flatly. ‘I had no idea what your father had been up to.’

  ‘Mum!’ shouted Alfie, but Paulette dropped the SPIV and the image disappeared. ‘All right, I’ll stay with you. As long as you take me straight to Mum, and help Janey find Abe.’

  ‘You ’ave to come wiz me for always,’ Paulette said in a sing-song voice. ‘Or your mother will never get out from ze tank. You must promise, Alfie. You must say your goodbyes.’

  ‘He can’t promise that!’ Janey yelled, outraged. ‘That’s so unfair!’

  ‘And is it fair zat I should grow up wizout my brother? Is it fair zat my dear Maman has been turned into a RAT? And all because of you Browns. Alfie’s mother, she got everysing, no? A good job, a nice ’ouse and my lovely Alfie. If we were rid of ’er we could all be together, and zen we would ’ave everysing. We are rich, true. But not rich in love.’

  ‘You’re completely nuts.’ Alfie stood slowly, indicating to the path ahead of them. ‘Bonkers. But I don’t have a choice. I’ll come with you to save my mum, but don’t think it’s for any other reason. You might be my sister, but nobody ever said you have to like your relatives.’

  They didn’t have a choice. Alfie’s mum was in grave danger, and whichever fate befell her was too awful to contemplate – either a watery death or a life without her son. Janey knew what her own father would expect of her.

  ‘You’re sad, Paulette,’ she said as they trudged past trees and bushes.

  ‘Be quiet, Baguette-Legs,’ Paulette snapped. ‘Just remember, it is your fault. Zis ’ole sing. It is all your fault – you and zat uncle of yours. It is just lucky zat my papa was operating behind the scenes when Brown found out the team of scientists had discovered the nine-lives process. Your Solomon Brown changed my mother and her associates into rats. And you think it is we who are evil?’

  ‘Save your energy, Blonde,’ warned Alfie, so Janey silenced her retort. How she wished that her father was with her now. She couldn’t help feeling that he had abandoned her. What help were his little messages when he wasn’t able to follow up? Something, though, niggled away in the back of her mind. What had the last email said? ‘Janey, to get to the point . . .’

  As the realization hit her Janey caught her breath. Her father had sent someone to give her a SPI-buy, a gadget with a point! And there it was, pinned to her chest. She swallowed hard and unpinned her kite brooch quickly. She turned it over and looked hard. And there, under the pointed end of the pin, were the six little boxed numbers of the hallmark that Abe had shown her.

  1 50 1 5 500 10

  1, 50, 1, 5, 500, 10. Just ordinary numbers. Or were they? They were quite specific numbers, only ones, zeros, fives and tens. Her mind raced. What if she switched the numbers for Roman numerals?

  OK, she thought to herself. Convert the number one – that’s an I in Roman numerals. Now fifty – L. One again, so that’s another I. Five’s the letter V. Five hundred? Oh, not sure, not sure. Is it . . . D? Yes, I think it’s D. And ten . . . ten is an X.’

  Janey slowed down to keep the others at a distance and said the letters under her breath.

  I L I V D X

  Suddenly she cracked the code. It was a message from her father. ‘I live. Dad. Kiss.’ ‘Yes!’ she said under her breath.

  But she already knew that her dad was alive. She just didn’t know where he was. At least she could now be sure that Abe Rownigan was friend, not foe. He’d been chosen by her father to pass a message to her – to hand over her badge of honour – and he had even drawn her attention to the hallmark. Abe must have been sent to protect Janey and her mother. And now she had possibly caused his death.

  They had finally reached the far end of the lake. ‘Where’s my mum?’ snarled Alfie.

  ‘We go over ze motorway,’ said Paulette.

  Janey and Alfie both looked to where she was pointing. The Sun King beamed down at them from the banner above a set of grand gates.

  ‘Of course. The Spylab,’ said Janey.

  Paulette laughed. ‘Do you sink we would be so obvious? No. She is somewhere much more fun zan zat.’

  the coach-doesn’t-stop cafe

  ‘Where. Is. My. Mother?’ Alfie bounced on his Fleet-feet, ready to fly across the busy road to Sunny Jim’s Swims.

  ‘Al, we’re in our SPIsuits!’ hissed Janey. ‘We can’t just go running over there with all those people in the pool.’

  ‘Ah! Twiglet ’as thought of somesing for once!’

  ‘Enough of the name-calling, Paulette,’ said Janey sharply. Her spy emotions buzzed through her – and one of them was pride. ‘I might have skinny legs, but I’ve got a big heart. And at least I haven’t got a rat for a mother. Now take us to Alfie’s mum.’

  Paulette crossed her arms sulkily. ‘You ’ave not asked me nicely.’

  It was as Janey had suspected. Paulette was just playing for time.

  ‘No, I haven’t, have I?’ Grabbing Alfie’s arm, Janey Fleet-footed across the road, leaving Paulette far behind in her ordinary trainers.

  ‘No, wait! What if we don’t find Mum in time? She’ll drown! We need Paulette,’ said Alfie. He looked back desperately at the French Spylet, who was pacing the gravel, waiting for a break in the traffic.

  ‘You said it yourself, Halo – she’s mad.’ Janey bounded over the perimeter hedge and Alfie followed quickly. ‘Besides, they have no honour, Al. Not like us. I tried to trade with them before, remember? She’s not taking me to Abe Rownigan. She’s not taking you to your mum. It’s a trap!’

  ‘Could be, Blonde. We can’t expect all spies to act like us, even if –’ he pretended to stick his fingers down his throat – ‘euh, we’re related to them. Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s find my mum.’

  ‘You check out the pools, I’ll try the Coach-Stop Cafe. Come on!’

  Paulette was now hopping around on the traffic island in the centre of the dual carriageway. Alfie took one last look at her and sped off to the pools, half-heartedly grabbing a towel to cover his SPIsuit legs. Janey hurried to the converted-coach cafe and opened the door.

  ‘Not allowed here in swimsuits!’ shouted the waitress who had shown Abe, Janey and her mum to their table just a few days ago. Janey smoothed her SPIsuit selfconsciously.

  ‘Sorry. Just needed some . . . water.’ />
  The waitress blew out her cheeks. ‘Just this once then. You don’t look too wet. At the back near the kitchen.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Janey scuttled past a couple of disinterested diners to the little kitchen area next to the old driver’s seat, but found nothing unusual at all.

  She filled a glass with water so as not to arouse the waitress’s suspicions and looked out of the front windscreen. Alfie was standing next to the showers with an extremely anguished expression, pointing to the floor. Behind him, a red-faced Paulette was advancing rapidly. Alfie hadn’t seen her yet.

  Janey was just about to run back down the coach and warn him when she noticed something. The big rear-view mirror of the coach showed the door at the back of the diner, and stepping through it was a tall, dark figure. Janey looked down. The shoes were long, thin and shiny black – the same shoes that had been about to touch down in the Sun King’s Spylab the day she and Alfie had switched voices. And in place of his face the figure wore a sun-shaped mask that looked jagged and dangerous, like a drunken, evil star – the same star that had been drawn on the classroom window . . . The other diners just nodded and smiled, thinking he was someone dressed up as Sunny Jim from the water park. Only Janey knew the truth: it was the Sun King.

  Alfie’s mime had now become more agitated; he pointed to the shower cubicles and stretched himself up on his toes, poking his nose towards the sky. Mrs Halliday! He’d found where she was being held! Janey remembered the frothing white water pouring into the tank she was imprisoned in. It must be bubbling water from the showers, gushing down through the drain in the floor and flooding into the tank. From Alfie’s desperate state, Janey guessed it was almost full. Paulette was now running into the shower block, turning on shower after shower, trying to hasten Mrs Halliday’s end.

  ‘Do something, Blonde. Now!’ Janey said out loud. She looked again in the rear-view mirror. The Sun King was treading slowly, as if in pain. If he got much closer he would be able to overpower her and there might be nothing they could do to save Alfie’s mum.