S*W*A*G*G 1, Spook Page 3

Turning to one of the many devices lined up along one of the Spylab’s benches, she swiped a fingertip along the screen and brought up her website. Sure enough, among the requests for birthday events and karaoke nights there was an email with no sender listed, entitled ‘MISSION.’

  The message was brief: Spylab Thurs evening 21.30, Gideon.’

  ‘And just as I was thinking, “What Spylab?” this team turned up and began the upgrade.’

  This was weird. ‘So we have a new investor who just happens to have copies of all our SPI equipment?’

  G-Mamma shrugged, just a tiny bit uncomfortably. ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, I say. Or rather, DO stare this one in the mouth. These are lips with tips. And watch my hips! Woah!’

  Janey thought quickly as G-Mamma began to swing her body around in a manner that strongly suggested there might be a rap coming on at any second. The fact that someone had been keeping an eye on them and buying up their stuff like any old eBay trader was odd - and a little creepy.

  But then, that was what spy organisations did, wasn’t it? They sent in moles, or double-bluffed each other. And sometimes they merged and formed new, amazing, supersized set-ups.

  ‘Do you think our new investor is a spy? They must have great equipment to do that mouth-message thing.’

  ‘I’m not quite sure what they are,’ said G-Mamma, trying a Boy Battler glove on for size and accidentally socking two ASPICs and a pair of rimless Ultra-Gogs across the room. ‘Let’s go and find out, shall we?’

  Janey wanted to suggest they showed some caution, but this was beyond exciting. And it could be the perfect moment to try out one of the many forms of spy transport they’d used as spies: ESPIdrilles, SPIral staircase, Fleet Feet, even rockets and squirrel suits …

  ‘How will we get to the playground in ten minutes?’

  ‘I’ll drive.’

  There was only one thing she could be driving in. ‘In the Bigg Squid van?’

  ‘Too posh for my fancy schmancy van, are we, Blonde?’ said Janey’s SPI:KE with a sniff.

  ‘No, it’s just …’

  It was just that Janey was older now. And they had cool stuff to hand. She really didn’t want to turn up at their first mission in years in a hippy van decorated with sea creatures.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she finished with a tiny sigh.

  ‘I know it is. And as you said, we don’t yet know if we can trust all these magic gadgets. Better stick with the tried and tested until we have more information.’

  She had a point, boring though it was. Tucking Trouble under her arm, Janey followed G-Mamma down the SPIral staircase, past the cosy rooms the woman had furnished simply to try to convince the world she was the very ordinary Rosie Biggenham, and out of the front door. From the house next door, Janey could hear her parents arguing over who’d given the right answer on QI, then falling apart with laughter at whatever it was Boz, her father, had said.

  ‘The kids are playing nicely, Blonde,’ whispered G-Mamma with a nod at the window. ‘They’ll manage without you.’

  It was a very peculiar moment. Janey felt like she was the adult, going out and leaving the children in the house. Maybe she should have booked Alfie to babysit.

  At the thought of her cousin, her brain gave a little twitch, and she caught hold of G-Mamma’s arm. ‘Is Alfie—’

  ‘No,’ said G-Mamma, very emphatically. ‘Alfie is definitely not. It’s time to leave the past behind, Girly Girl.’

  Really? But this was Alfie … Possibly even her mum and dad. The odd moment stretched out a little longer as Janey listened to her former Superspy parents, Boz Brilliance Brown and Gina Bellarina, jeering at the TV and passionately debating Stephen Fry’s cleverness, with not even a smidgeon of a suggestion about what a fabulous secret agent he’d have been.

  Janey nodded slowly. ‘You’re right. Everything’s changed. I’ve changed.’

  G-Mamma snorted. ‘No kidding. You’ve no idea how many of your clothes I had to nick to get the new size for your spysuit.’

  ‘You’ve been stealing my …’ So that was what had happened to the jeans. Maybe she could have them back now that G-Mamma had taken her measurements. ‘Never mind.’

  Janey dropped down onto her haunches as the curtain twitched above her head. The last thing she needed right now was her parents stopping her before she’d even started.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she mouthed, and they both crept from bush to bush until they reached the staggering creation that was G-Mamma’s Bigg Squid transport, festooned with a giant plastic squid whose copper-coloured tentacles snaked across the roof and down the frames of the doors.

  It was a relief that she was instructed to sit in the passenger seat with Trouble curled up in the foot-well. At least on the plush pink seat, rather than in the back of the van which was probably full of G-Mamma’s costumes and portable karaoke machines, she felt a bit less as though she was in an episode of Scooby Doo.

  G-Mamma started the engine. ‘Lucky that I’m always going out at weird times to my gigs, so nobody suspects anything,’ she declared. Then she eyeballed Janey. ‘Or is it LUCK?’

  ‘So all this time,’ said Janey with a sudden flash of understanding, ‘you’ve been inventing parties and appointments to go to as the Bigg Squid, just in case this moment ever arrived and you needed to dash out at a strange time of night.’ Phew. What a relief! ‘That’s fantastic! All this time I thought you were actually inflicting your raps on paying customers.’

  ‘Of course I don’t rap to paying customers.’ G-Mamma glanced at her sideways. ‘I sing.’

  So G-Mamma had actually been doing Bigg Squid-a-grams, singing at birthday parties. ‘Good,’ she said quickly as G-Mamma’s face turned a little frosty. ‘I bet your songs are great.’

  ‘Want to hear one?’ G-Mamma screeched around the corner, then suddenly veered off across a park towards the trees on the far side. ‘Dagnannit, no time. We’re here already.’

  ‘Here? We’re only just beyond the bottom of our street!’

  ‘Another reason we didn’t need spy-buys to get us here,’ said G-Mamma darkly. ‘Just the Octobus.’

  ‘Octo-bus?’

  G-Mamma sniffed. ‘Okay. I’m just trying it out.’

  While Janey was still figuring out a response, someone close by emitted a dark, musical shout of laughter that shot through her with the chill of the Vox-Pop. Trying not to shiver, she pushed open the passenger door and jumped down onto the grass.

  Their visitor was already waiting for them in the dank shadows of a nearby oak.

  ‘Daphne, I presume?’ he said, his dark eyes flitting over the purple painted van. ‘Velma and Fred already ran off, following a ghostly farmer into the forest.’

  Janey lowered her voice. ‘Oh, I know, it’s embarrassing but …’

  ‘No, the Octobus is amazing, actually,’ said their visitor, changing his tone quickly as G-Mamma popped up beside Janey. ‘I’m guessing you haven’t seen inside it, yet?’

  When the duo both looked blankly at the young man, he laughed. ‘No time like the present, then,’ he said.

  He stood back politely as G-Mamma slid open the van door and stepped in cautiously, followed by a bemused Janey.

  Only then did she discover what “amazing” really meant.

  There wasn’t a karaoke machine or stuffed fluffy octopus in sight. The back of the Bigg Squid-mobile was decked out like an FBI surveillance truck, with monitors and screens and flashing lights arranged along the length of each side, and a roof panel which bristled with satellite antenna, ready to flip over to the top of the van on command and take the place of the copper squid. Along the top of each bank of equipment was a narrow bunk, just wide enough for a travelling spy, and there was a slender, silver cabinet at one end which Janey just knew - judging by the glimmering rainbow droplets sprinkled at its door - must house a tiny, mobile Wowerette. Opposite sat an old fridge with a glass front, home to doughnuts, string cheese and fizzy drinks. It was the only part of the vehicle which
looked like it had been there for ever.

  ‘Vanderlicious,’ whispered G-Mamma, immediately drawn towards the doughnuts. ‘You must be Gideon. I’m G-Mamma, and this is Jane Blonde.’

  ‘I guessed.’

  Janey reached out a hand automatically, ready to greet their visitor, but the boy’s hands were tucked firmly into his coat pockets. He was wearing a dark red suit with flared trousers, brown shoes with ten-centimetre platformed soles, and a cream and maroon patterned shirt with a collar that spread across his jacket like the wings of pterodactyl. Beneath his arm he clutched a … well, a baton for conducting an orchestra, Janey guessed, trying not to giggle. G-Mamma would probably want to work with him for his outfit alone.

  ‘No hand-shakes, Jane Blonde,’ said Gideon in a voice that clearly matched the laughter she’d heard from the back of the van. He extracted his hands from his pockets and waved them around. ‘I have a condition which means I shouldn’t touch people.’

  ‘Ooo, is it leprosy?’ said G-Mamma.

  ‘No,’ said Gideon abruptly. He sounded offended.

  Janey elbowed her SPI:KE in the side and tried to sound business-like. ‘That’s fine. We’ve come across everything in our line of work. I mean it – everything.’

  ‘Everything,’ he repeated. He smiled, and Janey noticed that his dark eyes could convert from glacial to merry in a nano-second, and that his face, while thin and pale and youthful, sported a hint of a five-o’clock shadow. His mop of wavy black hair curled around his ears and onto his collar, highlighting the sharpness of his cheekbones. He certainly looked as if he could be ill – and he was older than he’d seemed at first. Definitely older than her. She guessed he might be sixteen or seventeen. ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly why I’m hiring you.’

  At this, G-Mamma leapt around excitedly in a space that was much too small for G-Mamma-ish-ness. Janey wished she had a moment to disappear into the Wowerette to suit up properly. For a start, Gideon’s outfit was making her feel very underdressed in her tracksuit bottoms and Baby Bear sweat shirt. For another, she wanted very much to impress him with their professionalism. This was their first mission in forever, and she didn’t want to blow it.

  Janey pointed to the small stools tucked under the surveillance banks. ‘Let’s sit down while you tell us what you need us to do.’

  Gideon nodded briefly. ‘You can sit. I prefer to stand. Achy joints – my condition,’ he said, with a glance at G-Mamma that told them that it was all the explanation they were getting.

  As Janey and G-Mamma squished themselves, side-by-side, onto the tiny stools, Gideon stretched his fingers out one by one as if they were stiff, unused, and then unfurled the baton. It was a roll of paper, on which he appeared to have written his notes.

  ‘Right, well, I’m not sure how much Ms Biggenham has gleaned so far–’

  ‘Very little, and please, as I told you, it’s …’ The SPI:KE practically sang her name, since she hadn’t been able to use it in years. ‘It’s G-Mamma.’

  ‘I can’t call you G-Mamma,’ said Gideon with a frown. ‘That doesn’t seem … respectful enough for a woman of your –' He paused, pondering. ‘Your reputation. How about we call you “GM” in future?’ he said smoothly, barely missing a beat.

  Janey warmed to him instantly. Anyone who took G-Mamma seriously was pretty sensible, to her mind. As G-Mamma thought it through and then nodded, he smiled.

  ‘I’ll go over everything, then.’

  He took a deep breath and stared at the back wall of the van. ‘My name is Gideon Flynn. As I mentioned in the lab, I need to get something back that was stolen from me, and I need a team to do it. The team has to be some extraordinary individuals like you, Jane Blonde.’

  Trying not to blush, Janey thought quickly. ‘We know some really incredible people …’ she started to say.

  Gideon Flynn interrupted her. ‘Not just incredible,’ he said, his voice terse. ‘Extraordinary. Superlative. I’ve already researched each of the team members. You’re the first, Jane.’

  He stared at her purposefully, and once again Janey shivered. It was the first time ever that she’d been called Jane by anyone other than her spy friends.

  This was really happening. It was all she could do not to turn to G-Mamma – GM - and high-five her. Even start rapping …

  ‘Who are the others?’ she asked quickly, when she realised he was still watching her.

  Gideon returned to his roll of paper. ‘One at a time, Jane, if that’s okay. On a need-to-know basis.’

  ‘Need-to-know?’ blurted G-Mamma. ‘Of course she needs to know. Janey is a super-spy, trained by the very best.’ From the look on her face it was clear she’d only just stopped herself from adding, ‘Me’.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Gideon. ‘Jane has unique gifts and experiences, and so do each of the others. It’s imperative that this team comes together in order. These people, and no others.’

  Janey exchanged glances with G-Mamma. This guy meant business, but they’d only taken orders from super-spies before. This was going to take some getting used to.

  Talking of business …

  ‘So what exactly is it you want us to do?’

  For a moment, Gideon seemed flustered, paler than ever beneath the dark curls falling into his eyes. He appeared to be struggling within himself, searching for the right words. Then all at once his head snapped up decisively, and he met their gaze.

  ‘I want you to break into some people’s homes and places of business,’ he said steadily, ‘and steal some of their stuff.’

  He lowered his hands to watch their reaction, and as Janey got to her feet to protest that he’d got the wrong people, the top of the roll of paper drooped down towards the floor.

  Upside-down, she could see a list of names of the four people who were meant to be in this ‘team’, though the text was too small to read them. If only she’d been able to Wow up, she thought again – her Gogs would have worked them out in an instant. Above the names, written very clearly in thick, inky letters, was the heading of the project.

  SWAG

  SWAG? That was what burglars – the ones in cartoons with stripy jumpers and eye masks - wrote on their bags of stolen goodies, wasn’t it?

  No way. He’d got them all wrong. And she’d done the same, it seemed, trying to be professional with someone who just didn’t get them at all.

  ‘We’re not thieves,’ said Janey stiffly, feeling disgusted. She threw open the van door and jumped down onto the grass. ‘I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else to do your dirty work for you. That’s not the kind of mission we’re used to.’

  ‘What she said!’ cried G-Mamma as she stalked past Gideon Flynn, though Janey heard her pause and whisper, ‘But we can keep the spy goods, right?’

  Janey didn’t want the goods. All the spy-buys and fancy vans in the world wouldn’t be enough to turn her into a criminal.

  The disappointment, though, was so raw that she almost – almost – wanted to cry. There was no mission. They’d made a mistake and it was over before it had begun. Not waiting for G-Mamma or even for her Fleet-Feet, Janey took off across the park towards home. It seemed she wasn’t going to be a spy again, after all. Home was where she belonged, being ordinary. Ordinary, bored and dull. At least that was better than prison, though …

  She could hear the vehicle starting up, so she increased her pace. Revving the Bigg Squid van’s engine, G-Mamma caught up with her at the corner of the street.

  Gideon Flynn was silhouetted in the open door.

  ‘Come on, Blondette,’ cried her SPI:KE. ‘Back in the Octobus.’

  ‘But you heard him, G-Mamma,’ said Janey, not caring that Flynn could hear every word. ‘He wants us to steal things for him. That’s not spy work.’ She kept walking, her breath puffing out little clouds of vapour in the cold night air.

  ‘Depends on what you’re stealing,’ said Gideon softly.

  Janey paused reluctantly. Then, suspecting she might well regre
t asking the question, she stopped short before they reached her house. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They were mine,’ said Flynn. ‘These items were stolen from me – well, my family – in the first place.’

  ‘And now,’ added G-Mamma, ‘he has to get them back to sort out his leprosy.’

  ‘Condition,’ said Janey automatically.

  ‘Right,’ said Gideon. ‘And you wouldn’t want someone’s leprosy-condition getting worse, would you?’

  Janey tried not to laugh. ‘No.’

  G-Mamma opened the passenger door, and with Trouble yawning and stretching winsomely on the fluffy pink seat cover, Janey couldn’t resist. She hauled herself back into the van as their investor jumped down onto the pavement.

  ‘I’m sorry for blurting it out like that,’ he said at the window. ‘I’m not used to people, really. My social skills are somewhat rusty.’

  G-Mamma blinked. ‘I can’t imagine that myself, of course, being the super-duper socialite that I am.’

  But I can, thought Janey. She knew how it felt to be lost for words, or afraid to speak out in case she sounded stupid.

  ‘Anyway, Janey So-Saney,’ G-Mamma continued, ‘apparently these people in this organisation called the Host stole these things, and he wants to get them back for his family’s sake. And then he can be cured of his terrible disfiguring illness.’ G-Mamma batted her eyes at Janey. ‘You wouldn’t want Gideon to be horribly disfigured, would you?’

  Janey glared at her. She knew what her SPI:KE was up to – reminding her of all the reasons she loved being a spy in the first place, instead of an ordinary, skinny girl who was picked on for her dismal hair and knock-knees. ‘I wouldn’t want anyone to be horribly disfigured.’

  Gideon’s eyes bore into her, imploring her to take on his case. His face was quite nice, it was true, even if it was pale and a little sickly looking. It wouldn’t do for bits of it to start dropping off …

  And it was for his parents. She knew a thing or two about that, too.

  ‘So we have to help you, then,’ said Janey with a nod.

  Gideon grinned, looking so overjoyed that Janey got a clear sense of just how much he needed their support.