by Andrew Cope
There were murmurs of approval from the other teachers. ‘Agreed,’ said Mr Wilde. ‘I will work them overtime in science. But we need the whole team to do the same. If we are to get our pupils’ grades into the best in the country then I vote we start the new regime from September.’ He eyed the other teachers, stroking his ginger beard with excitement.
‘But isn’t it a bit cruel?’ asked Mrs Grey, the English teacher.
‘Good Lord, no,’ objected Dame Payne, shaking her head. ‘Nooo, noo, no. It’s science, Mrs Grey. It’s a sacrifice in the name of the advancement of the human species. Think of this as a “donation”. The DNA from the brain will go into our intelligence formula and it will revolutionize learning. I would imagine the chosen child will think it an honour to give their brain for the good of the world.’
‘But the chosen child will have their brain removed,’ continued Mrs Grey.
Dame Payne failed to hide her annoyance. ‘You make it sound so … final, Mrs Grey. Their brain will last forever.’
Mr Wilde thumped the table in agreement. ‘As a science teacher, I assure you that this is the most exciting advance in the history of humankind. And we only need one child. Can’t you see how exciting this is?’ he bellowed. ‘Finding the perfect child is the last piece in our jigsaw. So, let’s really push them this year and decide on the chosen one as soon as we can.’
‘I’m in,’ growled Mr Stern, a large man in a checked suit. ‘Let’s accelerate our plan. In my lessons there’s going to be no Mr Nice Guy. I really want the chosen one to be from my class.’
‘Of course you do,’ soothed Dame Payne. ‘What an honour that would be. So let’s go through the new rules once more,’ sniffed the head teacher, clicking to a summary slide.
‘Rule number one: extra homework,’ she read. The members of staff broke into satisfied smiles. ‘Every subject, ev-er-y night. It’s the only way. Work them until they drop,’ she said. Her lips almost smiled. ‘This has the added advantage of weeding out the skivers. They will drop out of school and you’ll be left with the strongest. It’s simply “survival of the fittest”. Exam results are bound to go through the roof,’ she noted, ‘as the weaker kids are farmed out to normal wishy-washy schools where average is acceptable.’
Dame Payne’s eagle eyes peered out at the teachers, waiting for their murmuring of approval to die down. Even Mrs Grey was nodding now. ‘Number two: no playtime,’ announced the head teacher. ‘After all, it’s just wasted time. There’s no brain growth. Why should kids chase around the playground using up valuable energy when there’s maths to be done? I mean, what possible benefit can playtime be? Consider it abolished.’
She watched the collective nods round the table and continued to point three. ‘A personal favourite of mine,’ she admitted. ‘Earlier starts and later finishes to the school day.’
‘Which, combined with Saturday school, will really accelerate brain growth,’ agreed a lady from the left. ‘My pupils are going to have extra Spanish and Japanese on Sundays.’ She felt adoring eyes on her. ‘Compulsory, of course,’ she purred.
‘Excellent, Miss Steele,’ nodded the head. ‘That’s exactly in keeping with what this school is trying to achieve. After all, the superbrain won’t grow by accident.’
Dame Payne advanced to the last slide in her presentation. ‘And finally,’ she continued, ‘total control. Any child answering back, missing school, failing to do homework or complaining about the new regime is out. O. U. T. Out. No appeal. No fuss. They are expelled. That will soon sort out the whingers and get us down to those who really want to work.’
‘Perfect,’ grinned Mr Wilde, rubbing his beard again with glee. ‘Very soon we will be in a position to decide on the chosen one. And, shortly after that, we’ll have their brain in a jar and an intelligence formula that will change the world.’ He stopped for a second, considering that he may also receive an honour from the Queen. ‘Sir Anthony Wilde’ has such a nice ring to it, he thought. ‘These rules are crucial to our success,’ he finished.
‘Any questions?’ asked Dame Payne, staring over the top of her spectacles and taking in all the members of staff. ‘No? Then I challenge you to grow the best brains you can.’
Ben wasn’t exactly looking forward to September. It was usual for children to be a bit nervous of the step up to the big school. If he’d known that his new head teacher would stop at nothing to secure the brain of one of the best pupils, he’d have moved from ‘nervous’ to ‘terrified’.
Ben read the Chellaston School handbook as he sat in the kitchen with Lara and his dad. The inside cover had a ‘Welcome to our school’ section, written by the new head teacher. He looked at the picture and shuddered. His gaze was automatically drawn to her nose, then her lips, which were firmly pointed downwards at the corners. ‘And those piercing eyes. They go right through me,’ explained Ben, holding the picture up to show his dad. ‘She must have chosen her best photo for this handbook. If this is Miss Payne at her best, I’d hate to see her at her worst!’
‘That’s “Dame Payne” to you,’ chuckled Dad. ‘We saw her at the Palace, remember? You’re very lucky to have a head teacher who’s achieved such brilliant results.’
‘But she looks so … cold,’ said Ben, shuddering.
Dad laughed again. ‘I’m sure she’s a terrifically warm woman and a great head teacher,’ he said. ‘Looks can be deceiving. Take your dog, for example.’ He smiled, casting a glance at Lara. ‘Do you think she’s beautiful?’
Absolutely, nodded Lara, arching her back in a doggie stretch.
‘Certainly not,’ said Dad. ‘At least, not on the outside.’
Pardon me? Not beautiful on the outside? Lara sniffed.
‘Look at her,’ Dad continued. ‘Does she look highly intelligent?’
Lara sat and scratched her bullet-holed ear. Supremely clever, she glared.
‘Of course not,’ said Dad, answering his own question again. ‘I’m sure Lara would agree that she doesn’t look beautiful or clever.’
Well, you’re no oil painting yourself, she frowned. And you’re not exactly Einstein either.
‘I think she’s adorable in her own way,’ Ben protested.
‘Let’s just say, first impressions can be misleading,’ insisted Dad. ‘Everything will be fine. Dame Payne will turn out to be a really nice lady and you’ll finish top of the year. Get your brain in gear and everything will turn out brilliantly.’
Dad was wrong on both counts. Dame Payne’s passport face was hiding pure evil on the inside. Even worse, if Ben got his brain in gear it would end up in a jar.
4. Pet Shop Adventures
Ben, Sophie and Ollie were enjoying their six weeks off. The family had spent an unusually quiet few days by the coast. Mum was relieved and a little surprised to come away with just a suntan. ‘We haven’t solved any crimes or got into any scrapes,’ she said on the way back. ‘What a relief!’
The children and Lara sat in the back, sighing. ‘What a boring holiday,’ mouthed Ben to Lara.
She nodded and winked. Perhaps there will be some fun when we visit the professor’s new lab next week, she thought to herself.
The next week soon arrived, and Lara and her adopted family went to visit Professor Cortex’s Spy School. They looked forward to these visits because they were shown all kinds of gadgets. And the professor always went to great lengths to make sure their visit was top secret. The only thing they knew this time was that his laboratory had moved. Lara took a late-night phone call and Ben watched as she scribbled notes, using a pencil held in her mouth. She put the phone down and fetched her glasses from the lounge. Placing them on the end of her nose, she pored over a road map. Ben watched her following a line with her paw, frowning with concentration. Then she gave him a paws-up sign.
Should be OK, she thought. I think I can get us there.
It was an early start the following day. The Cook family piled into the people carrier, and Dad followed Lara’s left and right paw signs as s
he looked at the map. They headed out of town and turned on to the motorway, soon arriving at the next big city. Lara directed Dad to park in an out-of-town shopping centre.
Mum looked puzzled. ‘Are you sure, Lara?’ she asked. ‘Surely the top secret Spy School is going to be miles from anywhere. It can’t be here, can it?’
If my calculations are correct, Mrs C, this is exactly where we should be, woofed Lara, undoing her seat belt and opening the van door. Although, I agree, it does look a bit unlikely. She looked around. There was a superstore, McDonald’s, a furniture store, electrical re tailer, DIY warehouse and a pet supermarket. The family piled out of the car.
Ben stretched. ‘Which way, Lara? Or have we just stopped for a burger?’ he asked, rubbing his belly and smacking his lips together.
Lara gave her best disapproving look before trotting confidently towards the pet superstore. The doors swished open and in she went, the family following at a distance. Lara sniffed. Pet food, she thought. Yuck! Lara had only tried dog food once, and hated it. She always ate her meals at the table with the family. She loved chilli con carne, lamb curry and bangers and mash with Mum’s home-made gravy. But my favourite has to be spag bol, she thought, licking her lips. She sniffed again. I can smell budgies and hamsters and – what’s that? Some rabbits, I think. Doesn’t smell like a top secret Spy School. She made her way to customer services and waited for the others to catch up. While she was waiting she pressed the button on her collar and a small piece of paper fell out of the pouch. She gave it to Dad. Go on, she urged. Do what it says and we’re in.
Dad looked round at everyone and smiled nervously. ‘Are you sure, Lara?’ he asked.
All eyes fell on the family pet, who nodded. Go on, she encouraged. These are the instructions from the professor. Spies always have secret words.
Dad approached the customer services lady and cleared his throat. ‘Erm, hello,’ the others heard him say. ‘This may sound like a strange request, but –’ Dad hesitated while he re-read the note – ‘we’re looking for an unusual pet.’
The customer services lady smiled at him. ‘What kind of unusual?’ she asked.
Dad consulted his note once more. He looked round at the family again, feeling a little stupid. Go on, thought Lara, spit it out, man. This is the code that gets us in. You have to get it right.
‘Have you got any … zebras?’ Dad blurted, ignoring Ollie’s snort behind him. ‘Er, yes, zebras,’ repeated Dad, looking down at his note again. ‘A male one,’ he added. ‘Black with white stripes.’
‘Not a female?’ asked the lady. ‘Are you sure?’
Dad consulted the note one last time. ‘No, they would be white with black stripes. We definitely don’t want one of those,’ he read stiffly.
‘We might have some in stock,’ said the lady matter-of-factly. ‘But we keep them somewhere special. Please follow me and I’ll show you.’
The customer services lady flounced to the back of the store, out of sight from prying eyes. ‘Cool, we’re getting a pet zebra!’ exclaimed Ollie as they marched behind the lady. ‘A boy one.’
The Cooks gathered at the far corner of the shop, in the exotic pets section. The customer services lady stood on tiptoes and made sure there were no more customers around. When the coast was clear she spoke quietly into her collar. ‘Male zebra, alpha code correct,’ Ollie heard her say. ‘Roger. Twenty seconds.’
The four-year-old was a bit confused. The only ‘Roger’ Ollie knew was his granddad.
‘Is Granddad helping choose our new zebra?’ he asked.
The lady smiled. ‘Please gather round and look at this exotic parrot,’ she said. The Cooks all turned to see a stuffed parrot on a perch. ‘It’s not real,’ said Sophie. ‘It’s a dead parrot.’
The lady smiled at Mum and Dad. ‘Press the parrot’s beak,’ she explained. ‘Quickly – we only have ten seconds left.’
Everyone looked at one another, confused. As the time ticked away, Ben moved his finger towards the stuffed parrot and held it over its beak. He looked at Lara and she nodded. Go on then, pretty boy, she thought. Our seconds are nearly up.
Ben winced as he pressed the beak. Nothing happened. He looked at Lara. ‘What now?’ he asked.
Suddenly there was a creaking sound as the floor below them started to drop.
Hold tight, thought Lara as the family started to plunge downwards at an alarming rate.
5. A Top-secret Secret
The Cooks all held on to each other as they plummeted down. Finally, the platform stopped and the family stepped off, watching it zoom upwards. The professor was delighted to see them, rubbing his hands together as if he was a boy scout lighting a fire. He was dressed in his usual all-white lab outfit and insisted that the family get changed into their own versions of superwhite clothes before they entered the inner sanctum of his top secret Spy School.
The Cooks emerged from the changing room looking like a family from a soap powder commercial. Lara looked fantastic in her white socks. ‘We’ve come to collect our zebra,’ piped up Ollie. ‘We want a boy one, please.’
The professor looked momentarily confused. ‘Ah yes, the code word,’ he beamed. ‘Sorry about all that kerfuffle but there are a lot of prying eyes. What we do here is top secret and we can’t have just any old Tom, Dick or Harry stumbling on our hidey-hole now, can we?’
Lara shook her head, agreeing with him.
‘Right,’ said the professor. ‘Let’s go.’
He marched the family along a corridor and into a huge underground sports hall. They assembled round him and watched a pack of trainee spy dogs being put through their paces.
Ben peered into the weights room and nudged his sister. ‘Hey, Sophie,’ he urged. ‘Look at that monkey on the exercise bike.’
‘Fitness is the key,’ barked the professor. ‘All our animals need to be top-class athletes. The best in their field. Isn’t that right, GM451?’
Lara remembered the assault courses she used to do so easily. I think I may have let myself go a bit, she winced, breathing deeply and drawing her belly in. I must cut down on custard creams. The dogs were organized into a game and Lara watched as they nosed a football around the hall. I can’t resist, she thought. Footy is my favourite thing. Lara bounded on to the playing area and barked to the other dogs. OK, guys, over here. Swing a cross in and I’ll show you how to finish. The ball sailed towards Lara. She leapt acrobatically and powered a volley into the top corner, past a diving Labrador goalkeeper. Pick that out, Fido, she whooped, sliding across the floor on her furry tummy. The children clapped enthusiastically but Professor Cortex tutted loudly.
‘GM451,’ he announced, ‘you are not here to play the fool. We have some serious business to conduct – if you can bear to drag yourself away?’
See you guys later, woofed Lara to her new teammates. Captain Sensible wants a word.
The professor smiled sarcastically as Lara joined him for the guided tour of the sports hall. ‘As you know, this is Spy School number two, an offshoot, because we’ve been so very successful. I have several exciting new gadgets to show you, GM451,’ he announced. ‘And one very special invention, but that can wait. Here,’ he said, throwing Lara a tartan coat.
Oh no, Prof, she thought. That’s one of those silly coats that little dogs wear. You know, the ones who are really pampered by their owners. Yappy dogs. I can’t wear that, it’s too uncool.
The professor continued, as if reading her mind. ‘I know it may look a little silly, GM451,’ he agreed. ‘But this is specially designed. Get yourself strapped in tightly, if you please.’
Ben fumbled with the buckles until Lara was fitted snugly into her new tartan coat. Sophie looked at her pet and giggled. Lara stood with drooping shoulders, her bullet-holed ear at half mast. It’s not even my colour, she thought. Can we get this over with, please?
Professor Cortex continued, as enthusiastic as ever, fastening a helmet to Lara’s head. ‘Righty-ho,’ he announced. ‘This coat has a grapp
ling hook built in. Press this button here,’ he said, pointing to a small remote clipped on to the coat, ‘and the hook will shoot upwards.’ The professor beckoned Lara over to the indoor climbing wall. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘aim for the ledge at the top.’
Lara steadied herself before pressing the button with her paw. She heard a click and a rope shot upwards from her jacket, a small anchor latching on to the ledge above. Hey, that’s really clever. The scientist tugged the rope to check it was safe. ‘And this button here will reel you in, like a fish on the end of a line.’ The professor couldn’t resist pushing it for her and Lara was hauled up to the ledge at an alarming rate. She looked down on the sports hall. Hi, everyone, she waved, surprised but impressed with the professor’s gadget. It’s like a reverse abseil. Now how do I get down again? she wondered.
The Cooks grinned up at Lara, and Ollie waved excitedly. The professor clapped and hopped. ‘Excellent, GM451. I’m afraid we haven’t worked out how to get down yet, so I’ll send one of my assistants for a ladder.’
The family went through to the professor’s lab. Mum and Dad had a coffee and the children drank lemonade while they waited for Lara to be retrieved. Eventually the family pet slunk into the room, looking a bit upset at being left on the ledge for so long. Will someone please remove this ridiculous coat? she thought as she shuffled into the room. Those trainee dogs have lost all respect for me. I can’t believe you guys left me up there.
‘Sorry about that, GM451,’ apologized the professor. ‘But it’s a very handy gadget. You must keep it. You never know when it might come in useful.’ He smiled. ‘Or maybe you could just wear the coat to keep you warm?’ he suggested.
