Jane Blonde: Spies Trouble Page 6

  ‘You’re just touchy about Paulette,’ said Alfie, sorting speedily through his CD collection. ‘Stop being so sensitive. She invited me round again later. You can come if you want.’

  Janey dug her hands into her jeans pockets. ‘No, thanks.’

  She knew when she wasn’t wanted. And anyway, she had some investigating to do. She knew, deep down, that she hadn’t been mistaken about the water rats being dead. Just as she knew she wasn’t imagining the happy look on her mother’s face as Abe Rownigan drove away, or the way Trouble had pounced on him. She was being intuitive, not sensitive. It was what Jane Blonde was good at.

  a room with a broom

  ‘Anything about the Sun King?’ shouted Janey over the sound of the Wower.

  ‘Oh yes. Apparently,’ said G-Mamma’s voice, crackling into the cubicle, ‘it was the name given to a king of France who ruled for a really long time.’

  ‘So he was a French king, was he? French? Interesting! I want to check out three things, G-Mamma.’ Jane Blonde stepped briskly out of the Wower and pulled on her Girl-gauntlet. ‘First, that caretaker’s cupboard. Secondly, the Spylab at Sunny Jim’s Swims. And third, Abe Rownigan. He’s tall enough to have written that message on the window at school, he’s spying on me with that SPI-Pod, and he’s trying to get very close to my mum. Oh, and Trouble attacked him. He’s never done that before.’

  ‘What about the weird robot-voice?’

  Janey raised an eyebrow. ‘G-Mamma, you’re the one who taught me about disguising your voice. He probably just speaks through something – yes, now I think about it, he carries those big hankies around in his pocket. He probably uses those to muffle himself.’

  G-Mamma whirled around with a large photo of Abe in her hands. ‘Well, according to the Internet he started cleaning cars as a teenager going round on his bike, and now runs this chain of car washes. A good spy could invent that cover, of course. If he is the Sun King, maybe I should come with you.’

  ‘I’ll travel faster on my own.’

  G-Mamma nodded. ‘OK. Take Trouble though. He might be able to point out some clues. And he looks like he’s ready.’

  Janey laughed as the cat appeared out of the Wower. Trouble looked magnificent, with the gold stripes in his tawny coat glinting and his eyes flickering emerald green. He stalked past Janey with a flick of his quiff and sat down by the door. It was clearly time to go.

  ‘SPIder? Girl-gauntlet? SPIV?’ asked G-Mamma. Janey nodded. ‘Well, you’d better take this too. You’ve got a lot of ground to cover.’

  ‘A skateboard?’ Janey went grey. ‘I can’t use one, G-Mamma. I never even mastered my Rollerblades.’

  ‘Blonde, have I ever let you down? Well, yes, OK, I have, but forget about that for now.’ G-Mamma put the narrow board on the floor like a platter of clear jelly, and stood on it. Instantly a little pillow of air lifted the board a few centimetres off the floor. ‘It’s not just a skateboard. It’s an ASPIC – Aeronautical SPI Conveyor. Like a biddy little personal hovercraft.’ Just to demonstrate, the SPI:KE pushed one foot down at the back. The ASPIC zipped around a few corners of the Spylab before bringing G-Mamma back to Janey. ‘Easy-blue-cheesy, Blonde. Just need to remember, it likes to be within a short distance of the floor. I mean, if I can do it . . .’

  ‘All right, I’ll take it,’ said Janey, not at all convinced.

  ‘And you can’t fall off,’ said G-Mamma. ‘Your Fleet-feet are automatically magnetized to it. Safe as Sol’s Lols. And it straps to your leg when you’re not using it. Go get ’em, Blonde-girl!’

  Fastening the slender ASPIC around her thigh like armour-plating, Janey whistled gently to Trouble, and the three of them made their way outside. ‘It’s pitch-black out here!’ hissed Janey.

  G-Mamma pointed to the Spycat. ‘Send Trouble ahead. He’ll light the way.’

  It was true. The glow from his tail was as bright as torch-light. Janey took off on her Fleet-feet, bounding along in great strides that Trouble had no difficulty in matching at first. When he started to slow, Janey picked him up. It was exhilarating, pounding along through the crisp night air with her cat at her side, his quiff waving in the breeze. Before too long the iron railings around the school grounds appeared ahead of her. Janey kept running, stamped her feet hard into the ground and sailed over the railings as if they weren’t even there. In seconds the Spylet and her cat had reached one of the back entrances to the school.

  Suddenly, Janey found herself standing in a pool of white light. ‘Security lights! Oh no! That means any minute now the . . .’ There it was, a wailing shriek that bounced off the trees. ‘. . . alarm will go off! Quick, Trouble, into the trees!’

  They scooted backwards as quickly as they could, just as the door opened and a tall figure was silhouetted against the glare of the security light. Janey heard the caretaker curse quietly as he stepped out of the doorway, hesitated and then made his way to the back of the building.

  ‘Now’s our chance. Come on!’

  They ran stealthily to the perimeter of the semicircle of light, then sprinted at full tilt through the door. The school looked different, more threatening somehow, with the shadows of the night stretching far along the corridors. Trouble seemed to feel it too and slowed to a nervous walk.

  Janey shook herself. ‘Come on, Blonde. This is your own school!’ She led Trouble quickly to the caretaker’s cupboard and went to open the door. ‘Oh no!’ It was padlocked. Janey crouched down and studied the lock. She could laser it, but it would take a long time to get through the solid metal. She picked Trouble up. ‘What should I do, Trubs?’

  The cat bristled beneath her hands. Someone was coming – and she was exposed in the stark corridor with nowhere to hide. Just as she was deciding that they’d better run, Trouble reached out his front leg and unfurled his paw. A huge, glimmering gold claw curved out of the fur like a miniature pirate’s sword; in a matter of seconds, Trouble had whipped it through the padlock, slicing the metal loop in half.

  ‘Wow! What is that, Trouble? A Spycat sabre? Brilliant! We’re in!’

  The cupboard was just as she remembered – small, messy, smelling faintly of disinfectant. The little silver radio was still playing quietly to itself. ‘You’re listening to golden oldies,’ crooned the radio announcer, making Janey jump. She grinned at her own overreaction, but then leaned in to listen more closely. There was a humming sound buzzing along under the tune from the radio. ‘Bad reception,’ thought Janey. Once more, there was nothing more suspicious than a couple of wet buckets, a row of mops and brushes and some rubber gloves.

  At the end of the corridor, a door slammed. The caretaker was coming back. Janey whirled around in the cupboard, about to push open the door, but the caretaker’s footsteps were drawing closer. There was no way she could get out without him seeing her.

  ‘Behind the mops!’ Janey whispered. She tugged feverishly at one of the handles to make a hiding place for herself and Trouble – and gasped.

  The wall behind the mops was sliding away! In a flash, Trouble slalomed through the mop sticks and pelted through the gap in the wall.

  ‘Trouble, no!’ There was no way of knowing who, or what, was behind that wall, and the gap wasn’t yet wide enough for Janey to get through. The footsteps were approaching fast. Trying to make the gap widen more quickly, Janey wiggled the mop, but to her dismay her jiggling had the opposite effect and the piece of metal slid back to its original position.

  The cupboard door opened. Janey turned slowly to face it, bracing herself for the greeting she was about to get.

  ‘What are you doing in here?’ said a furious voice.

  cat-nip

  ‘Alfie!’ gasped Janey, so relieved she almost hugged him.

  ‘Come quickly,’ said Alfie, stuffing his torch into the pocket of his jeans. ‘Good job Mum sent me to have a look round when the alarm was activated.’

  Janey grabbed his shoulders. ‘There’s a hidden room or something behind the wall. Trouble shot inside. We’v
e got to get him out!’

  ‘What?’ Bewildered, Alfie squashed in next to Janey in the cupboard and watched as she pulled desperately at the mop handles.

  ‘It won’t work! Please work! I just pulled on one of these . . .’

  Alfie shushed her. ‘I can hear the caretaker coming back. Let’s get out of here. We’ll have to find another way in.’

  Janey nodded helplessly. It seemed to be their only option, even though it did mean leaving Trouble to his own devices. The Spylets backed cautiously out of the cupboard, closed the door as silently as they could and sped off down the corridor in the opposite direction to the steadily approaching footsteps.

  ‘Why aren’t you in your SPI gear?’ said Janey as they flitted between the bins outside the school kitchens. ‘We’d have much more of a chance if you had Fleet-feet on.’

  ‘Who says I’m not wearing my Fleet-feet? This is my SPIsuit, dimbo. You don’t think I’d be in all that fussy stretchy stuff, do you?’

  Janey looked sideways at him and noticed for the first time that his jeans were part of an all-in-one boiler suit in gently gleaming, soft-as-silk grey denim that bent to his every move. Unlike Janey’s suit, Alfie’s was covered in zipped pockets that lay to either side of the central zip like the rails on a train track. Some of them bulged, and Janey wondered what manner of gadgetry he had stashed away inside. He had once made a four-seater go-kart out of a suitcase, so she had little doubt that he would have a few life-saving devices about his person. Al Halo looked businesslike and ready for action. ‘OK,’ said Janey, ‘I think we need to double back on ourselves and find that secret room. I’ve got to get Trouble out.’

  Suddenly Alfie stopped short. ‘I think Trouble’s managed to get himself out.’

  They shrank into the shadows as a tremendous din erupted from the school. With a bang, the door flew open. The first silhouette they saw was the caretaker, brandishing a broom handle at a fleeing shadow. Trouble. Her cat was haring across the field with his quiff flattened against his head, running so fast it looked as though he would stumble tail-over-nose at any second.

  ‘At least the caretaker will think that was the disturbance,’ said Alfie. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘No, look!’ squeaked Janey, horrified.

  Just a little way behind Trouble, five insidious slinking shapes were streaming along like quicksilver, bending and writhing with excitement as they raced after the cat, closing the gap with every second that passed.

  Alfie looked amazed. ‘It’s the water rats again!’

  ‘We’ve got to save him!’ Janey was already off across the school field, barely waiting for the caretaker to close the door behind him. Alfie wasted no time, sprinting after her at high speed. Together they raced across the field, somersaulted over the railings and hit the pavement at full stretch. They ran on towards the high street, following Trouble’s bobbing tail.

  ‘Where is he going?’ panted Alfie, bewildered, his Ultra-gogs steaming up from his breathing. ‘There’s only the supermarket and garages down this end of town.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ gasped Janey. ‘Why doesn’t he just head for home? Oh, look, Al, they’ve got him surrounded! Ultra-gogs – zoom!’

  The scene ahead of them enlarged so that Janey could make out Trouble’s arched back and upright tail, gleaming like a sword. Around him, the five snarling creatures had formed an arc and were moving in slowly. Trouble kept on backing away, into the dark entrance to a large shed-like building. In a panic he scrabbled up the door frame and through an open window, followed by his determined pursuers. But Janey would never fit through.

  ‘You’re not going to like this, Blonde,’ said Alfie softly. ‘Have you noticed what the building is?’

  Janey focused her Ultra-gogs. Her heart sank. Across the side of the shed was a slogan she recognized instantly. ‘Rownigan’s Car Wash – make your car a star!’

  ‘It does say Car Wash, not Cat Wash, doesn’t it?’ said Alfie, looking around for cover as they approached the shed.

  ‘That’s not funny. Poor Trouble must be terrified. At least he loves water. You take the back and I’ll go to the front.’

  Janey could see now that Trouble had been manoeuvred right inside the car wash. ‘Trouble! They’re trying to trap him again, Alfie,’ she yelled. ‘They’re going to do more of those horrid experiments on him.’ Janey hammered on the door, not caring if the vermin turned round and attacked her – hoping, in fact, that they would, instead of concentrating so single-mindedly on her cat. But the water rats simply slunk back towards the door, looking startled as the great machinery sprang to life.

  Janey heard Alfie shouting from the other side of the car wash. ‘They’ve started the cleaning process – it must be automatic when the door’s closed. Can you open it at your end?’

  Janey ran backwards and forwards along the rigid plastic doors. ‘I can’t! They’re sealed all the way up!’

  Trouble had retreated on to the top of a small green car and was sitting on the cream vinyl roof with great dignity as two gigantic sprays swung along on metal galleys over his head. The deluge of water soaked him through in seconds; he shivered slightly and squirmed around as the next stage of the wash pumped into action – the shampoo. A great cloud of foam squirted all over him. Straight across the other side of the car wash, through the foam and steam, Janey could see Alfie trying hopelessly to rattle the doors. He pointed at her ponytail, but Janey shook her head. With no freezer to step into, there was no chance of making a dagger to cut through the thick plastic doors. The only way in was three metres above their heads, where there was a narrow gap between the roof and the top of the door.

  Janey tried desperately to remember what came next in a car wash. Trouble was being rinsed and a pair of great blow-dryers was buffeting him this way and that. His hair stood out like a puffball.

  Alfie appeared at Janey’s side. ‘There’s no way in round there. And I think he’s about to be waxed and polished.’

  Janey looked up in horror as six yellow rollers, each the size of a tractor tyre, moved into position ready to buff Trouble into oblivion. ‘He’ll be crushed! Halo, I have to do something!’

  The buffers cranked downwards. Trouble scurried this way and that across the roof but there was nowhere for him to go. The rats were about to have their prey delivered right to them, clean, dry and fluffy. Driven by her cat’s fear, Janey sprang into action.

  ‘Why do I do these things?’ she groaned, pulling the ASPIC from her thigh and stepping on it.

  Alfie watched her, puzzled. ‘They don’t fly, you know. They only hover above a surface.’

  ‘I know,’ said Janey, pushing down on the back of the board. ‘But who said the surface had to be horizontal?’

  Hoping desperately that the Fleet-feet would stay anchored to the board, Janey floated along the ground, then, holding her breath, she jumped up and flung herself backwards at the same time so that the ASPIC made contact with the vast plastic car-wash doors. It held. She was now hovering a little way off the doors, her body parallel with the ground.

  ‘Wouldn’t have thought of that,’ said Alfie grudgingly. ‘Get on with it then.’

  She kicked off again and the ASPIC shot up the door with Janey dangling off it like a zip fastener. She paused briefly at the top, crouching to get through the slot between the roof and the doors, then whizzed noiselessly down the inside of the plastic door, with the floor of the car wash rushing up to meet her.

  The big buffer wheels were grinding towards Trouble, who had given up all pretence of bravery and was yowling with heartbreaking volume. He was just a few seconds away from being turned into a small tawny rug.

  ‘Trouble! Here!’

  All the creatures in the car wash turned to look at Janey. The water rats slavered furiously and leaped on to the car, their intention obvious. They needed Trouble. And Janey wasn’t getting him back.

  But Jane Blonde wasn’t about to give up. Just as the rollers descended towards Trouble, Janey pushed off h
ard on the ASPIC, steadied herself as it lurched horribly to and fro, and lunged towards the car.

  The five rats leaped at her from all directions as she skimmed along the roof of the car, the rollers pressing down on her head. Reaching out her arms, she grabbed her wringing-wet cat and sped out through the ever-closing gap, rat teeth snagging at her SPIsuit and furry bodies hurling themselves at her in an effort to knock her off the ASPIC.

  She was almost horizontal against the board; Trouble was flat out in front of her like the cat on the front of a Jaguar car; the gap beneath the buffers was closing, closing, closing. Janey shut her eyes . . .

  Suddenly they were through. Trouble jumped on to the floor and raced round in little circles of delight. Janey leaped off the ASPIC and turned around as a hideous caterwauling rose up behind her. It was no good. She had to look away. Even though the animals were evil and vicious creatures, Janey did not want to watch them all being crushed beneath those relentless giant buffers.

  Alfie opened the door as soon as the car-wash cycle had finished. ‘Don’t look, it won’t be pretty, he said, steering Janey out of the shed.

  Trouble shivered alongside Janey. ‘I have to get him home,’ she said, kissing the cat’s dilapidated quiff.

  ‘That was all a bit hairy. I think we should walk.’

  As they began to plod home Janey was deep in

  thought. ‘They’re definitely dead now, aren’t they?’ she

  said, more to herself than Alfie.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Alfie. ‘Unless there’s a miracle.’ Something prodded Janey’s memory, and a metallic

  rasping echoed in her head. Perhaps the rats didn’t need a

  miracle. Perhaps they had something better . . .

  flying kites

  That night’s decode, debrief, de-Wow left a lot to be desired. Janey had more unanswered questions than she had information, and she knew that she had to get a message to her dad somehow or other. Could Abe Rownigan really be the Sun King? What was the mysterious secret the Sun King thought Trouble held? Did the rats have nine lives? She vowed to spend the next day working on it.