“We won’t have long,” I said quietly as we made our way through the trailers. “I have to clean the bears out before the show.”
It took me a second or two to realize that I was talking to myself. Where had Fangs got to? I retraced my steps and found him chatting to Wanda Howe, the circus’s sword-swallowing fairy.
“At first I found your act a little hard to swallow,” I heard him quip as I approached. “But it wasn’t long before I got the point.”
“Well, ain’t you just the red-nosed cutie pie?” Wanda smiled.
Fangs took the compliment as an invitation to continue talking. “When you’re on a diet, do you swallow pins and needles instead of swords?”
Wanda laughed. “Don’t you have a rehearsal to get to?”
“Nope!” said Fangs. “All done. There are only so many ways you can get hit in the face with a custard pie, and I’ve pretty much nailed it.”
“You’re quite the smooth talker, ain’t you?” said Wanda. “We could do with someone like you to explain our feelings to Mr Cole.”
“Your feelings?” I asked.
“That’s right,” replied Wanda. “The other performers and I, well … we’re not happy with the way the public are getting all the attention around here. We haven’t spent years fine-tuning our acts to be upstaged by someone from the audience who’s willing to take part in some stupid stunt.”
“Do you have any idea why audience members are volunteering for the show?” asked Fangs.
“No, I do not,” said Wanda. “Mr Cole must be picking them out before they take their seats and bribing them, or something. It ain’t right, I tell you. It makes me so sad to think that someone could get hurt in the ring.”
We left Wanda and scurried away to check out Caramel Cole’s caravan while we still had time.
“So,” I said, once we were out of earshot, “it looks as though the rest of the cast aren’t in on Cole’s plans. We’ll need to keep an eye on them. If they stand up to Cole before we find out how—”
“Shhh!” said Fangs.
We had arrived at Caramel Cole’s caravan, and a row was going on inside. We ducked beneath the window to avoid being spotted.
“…I don’t care how much you think you deserve. This money is going towards upgrading the show!”
“You said Cole was still at the big top,” I hissed.
“He was,” Fangs whispered back. “He must have come back while Wanda was busy chatting me up.”
I was about to correct my boss on how the encounter had really gone when another voice rang out. It was a squeaky, high-pitched voice. The pixie’s.
“Well, maybe we need to renegotiate our little agreement.”
“You can’t do that, Tickler,” Caramel Cole roared.
Tickler. Fangs and I mouthed the name to each other at the same time.
I risked a glance through the caravan window. Caramel Cole was sitting at a table that was piled high with money. The tiny pixie was stomping around the cash, glaring at him.
“I want my money now!” she screeched.
“But we’re almost there,” Cole said. “We’ve got confirmation that he’s coming, and I need this money to make final improvements to the show.”
“The only way to improve that show would be to scrap it and start again. It’s about as exciting as one of your candy apples.”
“Then maybe you should choose a better quality of volunteer.”
The door to the caravan swung open suddenly and Caramel Cole stepped out. “What are you two doing here?” he demanded on seeing us. He closed the door behind him, so we couldn’t see inside.
“We, er… We were coming to see you,” said Fangs. “Isn’t that right, Julie?”
“Trudy,” I corrected him.
“Yes, of course. Trudy.”
“Well?” said Cole. “I’m a busy man. What do you want?”
“We wanted to thank you for taking us on as part of the circus,” I said. “We’re very happy here.”
“You’ll be even happier tomorrow,” said Caramel Cole. “I want you to gather the entire company together for a meeting in the big top in thirty minutes. I have some important news.”
“Why?” Fangs asked. “What’s happening?”
Caramel Cole smiled. “Chuck Starburger, the president of the United States, is coming to see tomorrow’s show! And it is going to be televised!”
Sunday 2026 hours: Caramel Cole’s Circus, Pittsburg, USA
Fangs and I knew we had to act fast. We couldn’t allow the president of the United States to be present while some crazy circus stunt was taking place. If something were to go wrong and the president got injured, Phlem would have us washing dishes in the MP1 canteen for the rest of our lives.
I watched the first half of that evening’s show from the back of the tent – which wasn’t easy as the big top was packed almost to bursting. The circus was more popular than ever.
Wanda Howe and the trapeze artists had already been on – and the clowns were up next. Caramel Cole introduced Wobblebottom, and Fangs rode into the ring on the smallest bicycle I had ever seen. He cycled faster and faster, ignoring a giant speed-limit sign. After he had completed a few laps, Lumpy and Grumpy, Coles’s two henchmen from the New York car park, drove on in their clown car – which was now fitted out with flashing lights and a siren to look like a police vehicle. They chased Fangs around the ring, leaning out of the car windows to hurl custard pies at him.
The audience loved it! They jumped to their feet and applauded when Fangs was finally captured and arrested. Balloon handcuffs were placed around his wrists and he was thrown into a fake police cell, where Cole and the clowns continued to pelt him with more pies and shower him with buckets of confetti.
Eventually, the cell was wheeled off-stage and the lights in the big top dimmed. Caramel Cole stepped into a spotlight to announce that it was time to choose a volunteer from the audience for the climax of the show. I glanced up to see the Tickler perched on the platform above him and knew this was my chance.
I left the big top and hurried to the caravan field. Once at Cole’s caravan, I used my werewolf claws to pick the lock and then crept inside. After closing the curtains, I switched on my torch and began to search.
At first I didn’t find much. The show’s takings were sitting on the small table in the living area and there was nothing but dirty dishes and out‑of‑date ready meals in the kitchen – so I turned my attention to the bedroom. Except this wasn’t a bedroom at all. Instead of a bed, there was a workbench that was so big I had to close the door behind me to get round it. Dozens of electrical components, including microchips, transistors and bits of wire littered the table. A nearby toolbox was filled with an assortment of screwdrivers, pliers and a soldering iron.
I spotted a piece of paper with a scribbled sketch of an electrical circuit, and studied it. I’m nowhere near as good as Cube when it comes to electronics, but I recognized the drawing as the circuit board inside the Will Pill – with a few modifications. The electric current had been reversed. But that meant…
I tapped one of my front teeth with my tongue to open up my communication link with Fangs. “Boss,” I hissed. “Are you there?”
Fangs’s voice buzzed from my other tooth.
“What have you got?” he said.
“I know how the pixie is controlling people,” I said. “They’ve reversed the Will Pill.”
“What?”
“Remember the effect the Will Pill had on Janice the lollipop lady?” I said. “Phlem’s commands sent tiny electrical impulses to her brain and made her act out his commands. Well, the Tickler’s doing it the other way round. She swallows the pill and then exerts her will on a member of the audience.”
“But why tickle them first?”
“I’ve no idea,” I admitted. “But this should be enough to get HQ involved. You call Phlem while I collect as much evidence here as I—”
“Cole!” cried Fangs.
“What?”
“He’s not in the circus ring?”
Just then, I heard the main door to the caravan open. Caramel Cole was back, and I was trapped in his secret workroom!
I flicked off my torch and stayed very still, hoping that Cole wouldn’t come into the bedroom.
“Did you hear me, Puppy?” Fangs’s voice rang out through my blue tooth. “I can’t see Caramel Cole. He could be headed your way!”
I clamped a paw over my mouth to deaden Fangs’s voice, but it was too late.
“Who’s there?” cried Caramel Cole.
I quickly locked the door to the bedroom, but Caramel Cole must have heard it, because the door began to rattle. He was trying to open it from the other side!
“Tell me who’s in there!” he shouted. “What are you doing in my caravan?”
I didn’t know what to do. The lock on the door wouldn’t last long and the bedroom window was far too small for me to squeeze out of. I’d have to be the Tickler to fit through there.
That was it!
“Open this door!” Caramel Cole roared.
I pulled one of Cube’s helium balloons from a pouch in my utility belt and started to blow it up.
“Come out of there now, or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?” I squeaked, my voice high-pitched from the helium.
“Tickler? Is that you?”
“Of course it’s me,” I snapped, trying to remember the way I’d heard the pixie speak that afternoon. “Who else do you think would be in here?”
“W-well, I thought it might be an intruder, or—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I squeaked. “Who would want to break into a dump like this?”
“Wait a minute,” said Cole. “I just left you in the big top—”
“So?” I said, thinking quickly. “I can fly faster than you can walk. Now, hadn’t you better get back there for the finale?”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Caramel Cole groaned.
I heard the main door to the caravan slam shut. I waited for a few seconds to make sure Cole really was gone and then I pulled a camera from my utility belt and took snaps of everything on the table. Cube would be very interested in this. I’d never have thought Caramel Cole was intelligent enough to alter the Will Pill’s circuitry in such a way.
Pictures taken, I unlocked the bedroom door and stepped back into the main living area of the caravan. I paused to wipe clean any surfaces I might have inadvertently touched and then opened the door to leave.
Waiting for me outside the caravan with folded arms was Caramel Cole. The Tickler was sat on his shoulder, grinning in delight. Behind them, Lumpy and Grumpy were holding Fangs, who had his hands bound by rope instead of balloons this time and a gag tied across his mouth.
“I admit that your impersonation of the Tickler was very convincing,” said Cole. “You would have got away with it, too – if the real thing hadn’t overheard your friend here chatting to you.”
Fangs raised his eyebrows in a gesture of apology. I gave him a shrug in return. There was no way he could have known the tiny pixie was hiding near by.
Caramel Cole produced a bunch of keys from his pocket and nodded his head in the direction of the animal cages. “What say we take these two somewhere a little more uncomfortable for a chat?”
Sunday 2103 hours: Caramel Cole’s Circus, Pittsburg, USA
Caramel Cole unlocked one of the animal cages I’d swept out earlier that day. Lumpy and Grumpy untied our hands, removed our gags and then pushed us inside. Meanwhile, the Tickler darted about behind her friends, giggling at our fate.
“You won’t get away with this, Cole,” Fangs snarled as Caramel Cole locked the gate. “If the Moscow State Circus finds out how you’ve been treating one of their favourite clowns—”
“Drop the act,” spat Cole. “Not that you had much of an act to begin with. You’re not circus folk at all. You’re Special Agent Fangs Enigma and his sidekick, Puppy Brown.”
I tapped my front tooth with my tongue. “This is an urgent message from Agent Brown to MP1 Headquarters. Do you copy? Repeat – do you copy?”
“I wouldn’t waste your breath,” said Caramel Cole. He pulled a glitter-coated remote control from his pocket and aimed it at me as he hit a button. I felt a sharp pain in my mouth as my blue-tooth communication system was deactivated.
“My Bloodhound,” cried Fangs, adding “Ow!” as Cole directed the remote at him.
Caramel Cole slid the gadget back into his pocket. We had lost all contact with MP1 Headquarters.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
“You’re not the only ones who can search caravans, you know,” said Cole. “I found this little beauty in your motor home this morning.”
“But how could you know it would fuse our blue-tooth transmitters?”
“Because Fangs Enigma showed me himself,” said Tickler.
I felt a cold chill run down my spine. “What?”
The pixie fluttered up to the bars of the cage. “Still want to go out with me, Fangs?” she squeaked. Then she began to grow. Her eight arms melted into just two limbs, and her body lengthened. The pixie wings withdrew into her shoulder blades as her feet touched the ground. Finally, her hair became a blonde bob.
“Holly Delta!” I cried.
“The very same,” said Holly with a smile.
“Thank goodness,” said Fangs. He pointed to Caramel Cole. “Holly – arrest that man for stealing the Will Pill, then let us out of here.”
“I don’t think you get it, do you, sweetie?” said Holly. She wrapped an arm around Caramel Cole’s waist. “He didn’t steal the Will Pill. I did!”
“What?” Fangs cried.
“The underground car park in New York,” I said. “You weren’t kidnapped. It was a set-up.”
“You catch on a lot quicker than your boss.” Holly smiled.
“And the Will Pill…” I continued. “You used to work in Cube’s lab, so you knew how to take the pill apart and set it running in reverse.”
Holly nodded. “It was simple, really.”
“But what about the tickling?” asked Fangs. “I still don’t get the whole eight-arms bit.”
“It’s simple reflexology,” said Holly. “I don’t tickle my victims. I massage pressure points in their nervous systems to make them more susceptible to my instructions. The fact that it makes them laugh is just a pleasant side-effect.”
“And you knew all along that we could see you doing it,” I said.
“I recognized you both at the show in Somerville,” said Holly. “I had hoped that our little stunt with the cannon might have killed you, Fangs, but no such luck. When you followed us here, we thought it best to wait until just the right moment to capture you.”
“But, why?” demanded Fangs, gripping the bars of the cage. “You were working for the government, with me, Fangs Enigma! That’s got to be the greatest honour MP1 could bestow on you.”
“MP1 used me,” Holly said. “I loved working as a technician in Cube’s lab – inventing gadgets, designing electronic devices and adapting field equipment. But once Phlem found out I could stretch my face and impersonate people, he took me away from all that. He wasn’t interested in my technical skills – just in the way I looked.”
“It’s still important work,” I pointed out. “Think of all the people you’ve helped over the past few years.”
Holly glared at me. “People who never thank me – and never can because I’m a secret agent! We don’t get the rewards or the adulation.”
“Maybe not,” said Fangs. “But you had the chance to go out for dinner with me. You still might, if you play your cards right…”
“I think Fangs means we have the satisfaction of a job well done,” I said.
“Satisfaction?!” spat Holly. “How many fast cars can satisfaction buy me? How do I pay for a beach holiday with a ‘job well done’? I don’t want to help other people any more. I want to help
me. I’m going to use my talents to make life better for me!”
“You know, you’re seriously risking your chance of an evening of romance on the good ship Enigma.” Fangs scowled. “In fact, I doubt I’ll be allowed to date you at all once MP1 imprison you.”
“Imprison me?” asked Holly. “They’ll have to catch me first.”
“You may be able to transform into anyone you like,” I said, “but this circus can’t. We’ll find you through Cole.”
Holly threw back her head and laughed. “You think I want to stay part of this tinpot operation?”
“Do you mind?” Caramel Cole said. “I’ve built this circus up from nothing to become the biggest travelling show in the United States of America. Tomorrow, I perform for the president himself.”
“All thanks to me,” said Holly. “But I’ve had all the creepy clowns and sassy sword-swallowers I can take in one lifetime. Tomorrow, everything changes.”
“I get it,” said Fangs. “This time tomorrow, with the world’s media watching, you’ll reveal yourself as the real success behind Caramel Cole’s Circus.”
“Oh, Fangs,” Holly said, stroking his cheek. “Your ambitions are so limited…”
“You’re not going to get President Starburger to volunteer to be in the show, are you?” I asked, a bad feeling creeping over me.
“No,” said Holly. “When I tickle President Starburger tomorrow, I will suggest he takes a very long holiday. A holiday from which he will never return. And then I shall take his place.” Her skin began to ripple and, within seconds, an identical copy of the American president was standing before us.
“You won’t get away with it,” I said. “You won’t be able to resist filling your pockets from the White House coffers. As soon as the American people realize how corrupt you are, they’ll vote you out.”
“With the facilities at my disposal, I can have enough Will Pills made to ensure Congress changes the law to accept me as president for life. The American people won’t get a look in.” She sounded exactly like Chuck Starburger.
Codename: The Tickler Page 4
