Jane Blonde: Sensational Spylet Read online

  ‘My name’s G-Mamma, and I’ve come to say,

  You’d better get your booty underway.

  Your ma’s in trouble, it’s plain to see.

  And who’s gonna help her? Janey B!’

  Janey sat with her jaw hanging open. G-Mamma sighed. ‘Well, I can see there are all sorts of areas in which you need educating. You’re not very hip and happening, young Janey, are you? What have they been teaching you? Oh, forget it – time for all that later. Right now, you need to rescue Gina.’

  Janey shook her head again. ‘Gina? Who’s that?’

  ‘Gina Bellarina, darling. Your mother?’

  A huge feeling of relief swept over Janey. This mad woman had obviously got the wrong person.

  ‘My mother’s name is Jean. Jean Brown. You must have made a mistake.’

  G-Mamma’s heavily glossed lips curled in distaste. ‘Jean Brown? Good gawdy Lordy, has she gone back to that boring old identity? Oh, Janey. There’s even more to do than I thought. And you’re just wasting time. You can’t dilly around on all your missions like this, you know.’

  Janey was positive now that the woman was completely stark-staring loopy. She probably stopped people in cinema queues and at bus stops all the time, dribbling on about missions and dangerous situations. And on this spectacularly bad day, wasn’t it just typical that Mad Blubber Woman happened to have chosen Janey’s school to drop in on?

  Gathering up her PE bag, Janey stepped away from the bench. ‘Look, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but I can’t come with you. My mum’s going to be here to collect me any minute now, and I’ll have to—’

  ‘No, she won’t,’ interrupted G-Mamma, inspecting her purple fingernails and starting to look a little bored. ‘Haven’t you been listening? You’ll have to take more notice of your G-Mamma in future, you know, child. Your poor mother is currently on the roof of your Uncle James’s bank in the City. Furthermore, she is about to be toppled off it by a couple of Sinerlesse Group members. And I don’t need to tell you – well, maybe I do – that the Sinerlesse Group are pure eeeeeeeeevil. Your mum is in trouble as big as it gets, unless you get your bony behind down to that bank sharpish and rescue her like the Spylet you are!’

  Janey’s head whirled. Her mum certainly hadn’t shown up at the school gates yet, and she was never, ever late. But what was this G-Mamma ranting about? SPI? The Sinerlesse Group? Spylets? Janey looked round jerkily, but could only see Alfie Halliday swaggering by with his mates.

  There was not a single friend to help Janey decide what to do. But instead of wanting to cry, she felt as if a mist had suddenly cleared in her head.

  She had three options. She could do nothing – but what if her mother really was in danger? She could go with G-Mamma, hoping that she was not an escaped lunatic but a genuine friend of Uncle Solomon’s, like she’d said. The woman did seem to know a lot about Janey’s family. Or Janey could come up with her own brilliant plan. And like a small, bright explosion in her brain, that very plan occurred to her.

  ‘All right. Here’s what I’ll do. I can’t come with you, but if Mum isn’t here soon or at home, I’ll meet you at Uncle James’s bank at 4.30 p.m. With the police.’

  G-Mamma snorted. ‘Police? What can they do that you can’t? Don’t bother with those by-the-book bores. And I think you’d better make it four o’clock, girl! Gina’s in more danger with every second that passes.’

  This is so mad, thought Janey, closing her eyes as she started to feel slightly faint.

  When she opened them again, G-Mamma was gone.

  bikes and bashed knees

  After ten minutes, Janey was still alone at the school gates. Chewing her lip nervously, she glanced at her watch. It was already half past three. Her mother was at least fifteen minutes late. With one last desperate look along the street in search of their little yellow car, Janey started to walk, then jog, then canter home with her lank hair and disastrous PE bag streaming out behind her.

  Their rickety wooden gate banged against the wall as she pelted through. It was tiny, like the house. Janey and her mum had needed to move to a smaller house when the money from her father’s will began to run out. They’d tried to make the most of things, holding the hugest of garage sales and going to the cinema with some of the proceeds. Now Janey’s mum had taken on two jobs just to make sure they could still have some little luxuries, like fish and chips on a Friday night. Luckily, a cleaning job had practically fallen into her mum’s lap, out of the blue, paying her more than any other job she’d ever had. She’d been so cheerful about it all, but Janey knew her mum was worried behind her smile.

  She couldn’t bear the thought that her lovely mum might be in trouble. Yelling like a warrior about to go into battle, Janey charged up the path.

  ‘Mum! Mum! Where are you? Open the door!’

  There was no reply. Wishing she was allowed to have her own key, Janey pounded on the door.

  ‘Do you mind? You’re lowering the tone of the neighbourhood, you young hooligan!’ Mr Harris, their elderly next-door neighbour, was leaning out of his upstairs window. ‘I’ve got someone coming to look at buying the house soon – I don’t want them thinking they’d have to live with this racket!’

  ‘Sorry, Mr H!’ shouted Janey. ‘But I can’t get in. And I can’t find my mum. Have you seen her?’

  The old man nodded smugly. ‘Yes, and she looked pretty upset at whatever those two men were saying to her, I can tell you. Ran straight to her car and took off like a lunatic, she did. Had to come and close the front door for her myself!’

  Janey swallowed hard. ‘What two men, Mr H?’

  ‘Well, these two chaps. Very smart, in suits. Looked like bank managers.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ All Janey’s breath left her chest in a mighty rush.

  So maybe it was true. Perhaps something had happened to her mother. What if that G-Mamma woman was right? Would she, Janey Brown, have to go to her mum’s rescue? Mr Harris’s voice drifted back to her.

  ‘. . . mind clearing up? Move that dreadful old bike out of the front? I am trying to create a good impression for buyers!’

  Jayne looked around quickly. Her mother’s old bike, thick with rust and cobwebs, was sprawled against the hedge. Janey thought they’d sold it in the garage sale, but obviously not. Pulling it from the hedge, Janey brushed away the spiders with a shudder. She hated riding bikes. She particularly hated this one as the handlebars were too low for her long legs and knocked against her knees. But with only twelve minutes to go until the four o’clock meeting at Uncle James’s bank, Janey knew the only way to get across town through the traffic was to get on and pedal as if her life – or someone else’s – depended on it.

  Stuffing her PE bag into the large basket hanging from the handlebars, Janey wheeled the bike out through the gate, climbed on and pushed off from the kerb. It was not just the bike-riding that concerned her; she had only ever been to Uncle James’s bank a couple of times before, and each time she had travelled on the underground with her mum.

  ‘Which way? Which way?’ she moaned to herself as she jolted along the gutter.

  Terrified, Janey forced herself out into the traffic. Cars and motorbikes zoomed past on each side. She wobbled and shook, painfully skinning her left knee on the bottom of the wicker basket.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know! Think, Janey, think!’

  Screeching to a shaky stop at the end of the road, she felt like screaming with frustration. Then, to her left, she spotted the sign for the local underground station and her brain seemed to clear.

  ‘Bikes can go on the underground!’

  Janey was so anxious to get to her mother as quickly as she could that she didn’t even get off her bike to go down into the station. Not normally the kind of girl to do anything naughty, she tucked her head into her collar as she bounced painfully through the station and down the stone steps, praying that no one would recognize her. Luckily it was too early for people to be coming out of work, so the stairs were clear e
nough for her to rattle down, shouting, ‘Excuse me, please! Sorry! Would you mind?’ to anyone who got in her way. She whizzed past the open-mouthed guard, screaming, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got a pass!’ And suddenly she was on the platform.

  Janey paused for a moment to push her mousy, now slightly sweaty, fringe out of her eyes and gazed up at the arrivals board. A couple of people caught her eye and turned away hurriedly, shuffling down the platform as if they couldn’t see her.

  Great. I must look as crazy as G-Mamma, Janey thought.

  The arrivals news was not good either: ten minutes until the next train.

  ‘Oh, I don’t have time for this!’ she shouted to no one in particular. ‘What am I going to do? I have to get to Uncle James’s bank!’

  As she spoke, Janey was amazed to feel the bike start to shake. Thinking there must be a train coming, she gripped the handlebars and prepared to ride it through the open doors on to the carriage. But to her horror, she found her feet skidding along the shiny platform as the bike slid towards the edge. Crying out, she dug her heels in to stop the bike vaulting on to the rails, but it was unstoppable. Janey’s feet dangled in mid-air and with a lurch she tipped forwards on to the track. The bike teetered precariously on its front wheel for a moment, then crashed back down with both tyres planted firmly on the train track.

  Two waiting passengers screamed and huddled back against the platform wall. The sound of the screams only reminded Janey of the danger her mother could be in, and all at once her fear left her. Fierce determination took its place as she positioned her feet firmly on the pedals.

  ‘All right, Mum – I’m coming!’

  She set off along the track. Once she had got into a rhythm, Janey found that the bumping wasn’t too bad, and although it was pitch black in the tunnel she could see the glint of the rails that ran either side of her, reflecting the twin dynamo lights glowing on her handlebars. She knew she had to stay exactly in the middle of the tracks if she didn’t want to get herself electrocuted, but by pedalling very fast she could make the bike stay completely upright, with barely a wobble or a bump. After just a minute or so of pedalling, Janey shot through a station, to the astonishment of the passengers on the platform. After three more minutes she passed through another one, travelling at such an amazing speed that she only just managed to look at the sign as it flashed by.

  ‘Wow! Next station already!’

  Janey pressed on breathlessly, but beneath the wheels the ground was beginning to judder. A roaring sound filled Janey’s ears and she shook with the effort of keeping the bike between the two rails. But as fast as she pedalled, she still could not outpace the train that was bearing down on her. Daring to glance over her shoulder, Janey saw the bright light of the cabin just metres behind her, close enough for her to register the look of terror and astonishment on the driver’s face. Janey knew that this was it. She wouldn’t be able to save her mum. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t even save herself.

  The wheels of the bike sped round as the thunderous train inched closer. Janey screamed as the train touched her back mudguard with a shriek like a dentist’s drill. Then the nudge of the train catapulted the bike up through the air, spinning it towards a crescent of white light.

  ‘A bright light! That must be heaven!’ cried Janey, screwing her eyes tight as she waited for the crunch.

  For long seconds it felt as though she was floating in thick, eerie silence. Then with a deafening crash she landed on a huge heap of shopping bags.

  Three anxious faces peered at her.

  ‘Is . . . is this heaven?’ asked Janey, wondering why she hurt so much if she was dead.

  ‘Heaven?’ replied an old lady in a quavering voice. ‘No, dear. This is Blackfriars.’

  ‘I made it!’

  ‘Made it? You squashed my tropical fruits! What’ll I do with my mangoes now?’ squeaked another lady.

  Janey extracted her PE bag from the mangled mess of the bike. ‘Erm, make chutney? Sorry, got to rush! I’ve got to save someone.’

  And she hobbled up the stairs into the fading daylight.

  mad clambers

  Uncle James’s office was just a minute’s walk from the station, but Janey was so shaken and bruised that she had to force herself to take each step. She had speeded up to a sort of hobble-lurch, hobble-lurch across the cobbles when she spotted the large, semicircular courtyard that led to the revolving door of the bank’s reception area.

  There was no way through. Every bit of space was taken up with people – bank employees who seemed to have been evacuated from the building and who were now shushing each other and pointing towards the front of the crowd. Pushing through, Janey was amazed to discover who was directing the evacuation.

  G-Mamma with a megaphone was exceptionally loud, and her audience was completely enthralled by the foghorn woman in her rainbow clothes.

  ‘The fire brigade is on its way,’ G-Mamma yelled. ‘And even though we’re sure it’s just a false alarm, the engines are going to need to get right up to the building, which means we have to move all you lovely people somewhere else. As it’s four o’clock already, my suggestion as your . . . um, Director of Security . . . would be that you all go home right away. You won’t be able to get back in for several hours anyway, until I and my team have done all our checks.’

  G-Mamma frowned menacingly at the person who thought he was in charge of security, daring him to challenge her. Then she spotted Janey in the crowd.

  ‘Ah, Janey,’ she bellowed, ‘you made it. Hot stuff, girly-girl! Now we can really get on with everything. Go on, you lot, get lost then. CLEAR OFF IMMEDIATELY, YOU NAMBY-PAMBY NEWTS IN SUITS!’

  Perplexed, but pleased to be getting time off work, the bank employees drifted away. Janey walked up to G-Mamma, gently grabbing the end of the megaphone before she could honk through it again.

  ‘Where’s my mum? What’s all this about?’

  G-Mamma pointed upwards. ‘She’s on the roof, like I said. You’ll have to get up there, Spylet.’

  ‘OK.’

  Spylet? Hadn’t G-Mamma called her that before? But Janey had no time to think about it now – her mum needed her. As she stepped towards the revolving door, she suddenly felt a chubby be-ringed hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Janey, Janey. What is the first rule of combat in your job?’

  ‘G-Mamma,’ snapped Janey, using the strange name with hardly a blink, ‘I haven’t got a job. I’m not even at secondary school yet. What are you on about?’

  G-Mamma sighed. ‘I can’t believe how little you’ve been taught. Surely your Uncle Sol didn’t wipe your mother’s memory completely? Unreal! I really am going to have to tell you everything myself. The first rule of combat is: "Surprise, surprise, surprise." Don’t do the obvious. Catch the enemy unawares. Bamboozle them!’

  ‘So are you saying,’ said Janey, staring at G-Mamma, ‘that I can’t take the lift?’

  G-Mamma slapped her hand against her thigh, causing large ripples under her stretchy pink skirt. ‘Exactly! That’s just what they’ll be expecting, isn’t it?’

  ‘The stairs, then?’

  ‘Nope. That’s what they’ll be expecting next.’

  Janey was feeling angrier and angrier. Her mother was apparently trapped on the roof of an eight-storey building, with goodness knows who holding her there, and G-Mamma was talking nonsense about her family and setting riddles.

  ‘G-Mamma, can’t you just tell me? I need to help my mum. If can’t go up in the lift or use the stairs, and I haven’t got a helicopter to drop me off up there, would you please tell me how to get on to the roof!’

  G-Mamma pursed her lips and suctioned them in and out. Finally she huffed and nodded to herself. ‘OK. I was going to make you work it out for yourself, but you’re not sufficiently trained yet, and there really isn’t time to get you using your normality-befuddled brain properly. The way to get up to the roof is . . . use the SPI-cycle.’

  ‘The spicicle?’ It sounded like popsi
cle. Janey imagined a curry-flavoured ice lolly and pulled a face.

  ‘Not spicicle. SPI-cycle. Like bi-cycle.’ G-Mamma sighed.

  ‘Oh, you mean the bike!’

  G-Mamma nodded, folding her arms across her enormous bosom. ‘Slightly old model, but it will get you up the side of the building without too much trouble. I left it for you, next to the hedge.’

  ‘I know!’ Janey groaned. She remembered how smoothly and rapidly the bike had ridden the train tracks, how steadily it had held her between the two electric rails. But could the bike really climb up the side of a building? Janey would never know. ‘Look, G-Mamma, it’s a fantastic bike. But it’s broken. I had to leave it at the station.’

  Under the twin circles of blusher on her cheeks, G-Mamma turned pale. ‘The bike’s broken? How? Solomon preserve us, that’s another damaged gadget. I’ll be demoted! Goodness, I don’t have any other way planned! Your mother is up there at the mercy of two Sinerlesse Group henchmen, and, zany Janey, I’ll say it again, they are B. A. D. Baaaaaaaad! You are the only one who can save her. What are you going to do?’

  Janey’s chest started to heave dangerously. ‘I don’t know! Can’t you climb up to her somehow?’

  ‘Me? Climb? Do I look like an athlete?’ snorted G-Mamma, her blue eyes round as pies. ‘I mean, I could be a trampoline, but there’s no way I could use one. Anyway, I’m a SPI:KE. I’m not allowed to carry out operations, only assist in them. No, girly-girl, if there’s any climbing to be done, then sure as lollies are cold, you’re the one who has to do it!’

  Her grey eyes misting with tears, Janey stared up at the sheer glass sides of the bank building. It was impossible – only a lizard would be able to grip on to those walls. Her only option was to do ‘the obvious’ and go up in the lift. G-Mamma could like it or lump it.

  But just as Janey headed for the revolving door, she heard a shout from high above her. Her mother sounded angry and very, very shrill. What if she put her in even more danger by stepping out of the lift on to the roof? Janey stopped dead in her tracks, and suddenly, for the second time that day, there was a small, searing flash inside her brain.