by Mark Powers
For Leanne
With thanks to Jo, Kate, Tim, Zöe, Hannah, Lizz, Charlotte and all at Bloomsbury
Contents
Chapter One: Arthur Parkinson Gets a Surprise
Chapter Two: Pandora Grebe Gets in a Spin
Chapter Three: Suits Me
Chapter Four: The Secret Society
Chapter Five: A Fortunate Sheet of A4
Chapter Six: Plane Stupid
Chapter Seven: When the Sun Goes Down
Chapter Eight: A Bit of a Pickle
Chapter Nine: Loose Ends
Spy Toys
Spy Toys: Undercover
CHAPTER ONE
ARTHUR PARKINSON GETS A SURPRISE
The old man hurrying along the deserted street was about to have the strangest day of his life.
It was a smidgen before six o’clock on a chilly March morning. A Monday. At this hour most people are snoozing restlessly under their duvets, trying not to think about the coming week at work or school, but the old man didn’t mind being up this early. He was whistling a tune to himself as he walked briskly along, thinking about how lucky he was to work in a chocolate factory.
Arthur Parkinson had been caretaker at the Chimpwick’s Chocolate manufacturing plant for twenty-nine years. The hours suited him, his co-workers were friendly and the factory was just a short walk from his house. He even liked that he always came home smelling of chocolate. There are worse things for a person to smell of – as his friend Haddocky Brian, who worked in the fishmonger’s, often complained.
This morning Arthur Parkinson was in a particularly good mood because he had a new torch. This may not sound like a big deal, but Arthur felt like a medieval knight with a brand new sword who was just itching for a bit of stabby, dragon-slaying action to break it in. One of Arthur’s main duties at the factory was fixing things. Not the big, chocolate-producing machines – they were fixed automatically by robots – but the little things: stopped taps, grumbling radiators, popped light bulbs. These were the times you needed a sturdy, reliable torch at hand; and having one always made Arthur feel he could solve any problem. He switched the torch on and marvelled at the way its powerful whitish-yellow beam stretched far off into the morning gloom like a long finger of light. He nodded to himself, pleased. As torches went, this really was a cracker. He switched it off and stowed it securely in his coat pocket.
Above the rooftops of the town, the sky was slowly turning pink, the sun readying itself to peep over the horizon and mark the beginning of another day.
Nearing the old wrought-iron factory gates, Arthur took out a weighty bunch of keys. He opened the large iron lock and pushed open one of the gates. As it swung open, it made the same satisfying creak it had made for the past twenty-nine years. Then Arthur stopped, frozen to the spot, his mouth slowly sagging open.
He shook his head. What he was seeing – or rather, what he was not seeing – was ridiculous. Snap out of it, Arthur, he told himself. Get a grip. Heart racing, he dug in his pocket for his new torch, switched it to its brightest setting and swung the beam before him in a slow, steady arc … But there was nothing to see. The entire Chimpwick’s Chocolate factory had disappeared.
CHAPTER TWO
PANDORA GREBE GETS IN A SPIN
If you ever take a sightseeing tour of London, the bus is unlikely to go down Mulbarton Street. It’s a dull road. There’s an estate agent’s. A not-very-good sandwich bar. Several old, grey houses. A scrubby little park enclosed by rusty iron railings. A ramshackle old toyshop. Nothing to get excited about.
Or so you might think.
What the tour guides don’t know is that the ramshackle old toyshop in Mulbarton Street is actually a disguise. Any tour guide worth their salt would be thrilled to learn that behind the grimy shopfront lies the secret entrance to the headquarters of Spy Toys, the most astounding team of secret agents in the whole DEPARTMENT OF SECRET AFFAIRS – three robotic toy rejects far too dangerous to be children’s playthings, and who now spend their days fighting crime.
In the luxurious apartment hidden behind the Mulbarton Street toyshop, the three Spy Toys – Dan the teddy bear, Arabella the rag doll and Flax the rabbit – were lounging in comfortable chairs while an excitable young woman in a sharp business suit perched on a stool between them. She was clutching a notebook and pen.
‘Such a pleasure to meet you, guys!’ enthused the woman, whose name was Pandora Grebe. She had a posh, drawling voice that made her sound a bit like a sleepy cat. ‘I’m so looking forward to hearing all about your crazy adventures! The readers of SPIES & SPYING MONTHLY are going to be thrilled, I just know. Let me see if my research is correct.’ She stabbed her pen in Dan’s direction. ‘Dan, you’re a Snugaliffic Cuddlestar teddy bear. Due to a manufacturing error at the Snaztacular Ultrafun toy factory where you were made, you have super-strength, yes?’
Dan smiled modestly, picked up an iron bar lying next to his chair and bent it into a heart shape, which he then presented to Pandora. ‘Yes, Pandora,’ he said. ‘Yes, I have.’
Pandora beamed. ‘Gosh! that’s a-mazing!’
Arabella the rag doll rolled her eyes. ‘Now I know why he bought that iron bar this morning. What a show-off.’
Pandora laughed and turned to her. ‘And you, sweetie! Arabella the Loadsasmiles Sunshine Rag Doll. A fault in your manufacture left you rather too … grumpy, shall we say, to be a child’s toy. But what you lack in kid-friendliness you make up for in kick-butt fighting skills. Is that right?’
‘It’s all peachy except the bit where you called me “sweetie”,’ said Arabella. ‘No one calls me “sweetie”. Not unless they’re looking for trouble.’ She winked at Pandora. ‘You with me, sweetie?’
Pandora swiftly erased something on her pad with the end of her pencil. ‘Absolutely, swee– er, I mean Arabella.’ She turned hurriedly to the small white rabbit. ‘And lastly we have Flax. Not actually a toy at all, I understand, but an ex-police robot made in the shape of a rabbit. You’re the technical whizz, I believe? Good with gadgets and so on?’
Flax nodded and fiddled with his tie. ‘I do possess certain skills. One of which is research, and do you know –’ and here he narrowed his small pink eyes at Pandora – ‘I cannot find a single reference to your SPIES & SPYING MONTHLY anywhere? It’s almost as if the magazine doesn’t exist.’
‘Funny, that,’ agreed Dan.
‘Yeah,’ said Arabella. ‘And what would be the purpose of it anyway? The whole point of spying is to keep it secret. Not blab about it in magazines.’
Pandora gulped and dropped her notepad. ‘I – I can explain!’ she stammered. ‘SPIES & SPYING MONTHLY is brand new. We’re still putting together the first issue. And it’s only going to be available to government staff with full security clearance. It’s perfectly safe to speak to me! Honestly!’
‘And do you know another thing?’ continued Flax. ‘In all my research I couldn’t find a single reference anywhere to a person called Pandora Grebe. It’s like you simply made the name up!’
‘Isn’t that strange?’ said Dan with a smirk.
‘It’s my pen name!’ insisted Pandora. ‘My real name is Anne Snib, but that sounded boring so I changed it.’
‘You’re not a journalist at all,’ said Flax. ‘You’re a spy. Sent here by some enemy to get info on us.’
‘Looks like you’ve been found out,’ Arabella said, with a grin. ‘Sweetie.’
‘I thought you’d like being in the magazine!’ protested Pandora. ‘I was doing you a good turn!’
‘Forgive the pun,’ said Flax, ‘but I think you’ll find one good turn deserves another.’
Pandora frowned. ‘What pun?’
‘This one,’ said Flax, and he pressed a button on a c
ontrol panel built into the armrest of his chair. The stool on which Pandora was sitting began to spin around, slowly at first and then with increasing speed.
Pandora squeaked in alarm and clung desperately to the edge of the stool. ‘W-w-what’s going on?’
Flax consulted his watch. ‘Time to open the skylight. Dan, would you?’
Dan pulled a long cord, and a large square skylight in the ceiling slid open.
Flax touched another control on his armrest. Pandora’s revolving stool began to rise, its single central leg extending until it carried her up through the skylight and out into the nippy morning air.
‘Help!’ cried the hapless young woman on the spinning stool. She looked like she was riding the world’s smallest and least fun roundabout. ‘You’re making me giddy!’
Flax checked his watch again. ‘Four … three … two … one!’ He gave a dial on his armrest a sharp twist and the spinning stool’s speed increased tenfold. Pandora Grebe flew off it, fast as a meteor.
Screaming, she sailed gracefully through the sky and began to plummet towards the squat form of a rubbish barge pootling its way across the Thames. The little boat was piled with stinking household refuse. The three Spy Toys watched as Pandora Grebe headed for the barge at high speed – and then missed it, plunging into the grey waters of the Thames with a quiet splish. After a second, she bobbed to the surface looking thoroughly miffed and sopping wet. A seagull flew down and landed on her head. She batted it away angrily.
‘Oops,’ said Dan mildly. ‘Just missed, Flax.’
The rabbit shrugged. ‘Still works for me. What I want to know is how a spy managed to find out all that information about us. Maybe there’s been some kind of data security breach?’ He scurried over to a computer and began bashing away at the keyboard.
‘Relax, cottontail!’ said Arabella. ‘We got rid of her, didn’t we?’
Flax snorted. ‘Relax? How can any of us relax? The whole DEPARTMENT OF SECRET AFFAIRS might be leaking information to enemy powers as we speak.’
Dan shook his head at Arabella. ‘Does that rabbit ever switch off? It’s OK to take a break sometimes, you know.’
Suddenly an alarm blared and a huge TV screen began to lower itself from the ceiling of the living room.
‘That’ll be Auntie Roz with a new mission for us!’ said Arabella. They rushed to the screen. Auntie Roz was the head of the Department of Secret Affairs.
A woman’s face appeared. It was a large, powerful face with large features, topped off with a large amount of yellow hair. It was the sort of face that looked like it might be very frightening when it was angry. Fortunately, for the moment it was smiling.
‘Team!’ said Auntie Roz briskly (she was a busy woman with no time to waste on pleasantries. At home, she employed a servant whose sole job was to say ‘nighty-night’ to her children every evening). ‘Have you heard of Chimpwick’s Chocolate?’
‘Of course,’ said Flax. ‘They have that TV advert with the singing cartoon chimpanzee: Chimpwick’s Chocolate Makes Your Taste Buds Burst, All Other Chocolate in the World Is the Worst. A crude but effective little ditty.’
Arabella groaned. ‘Thanks, big ears! I’ve been trying to get that awful song out of my head for weeks.’
Auntie Roz nodded. ‘Chimpwick’s is the number one brand of chocolate in the world. Children are obsessed with the stuff. Which is about to become a massive problem.’ There was a click, and an image of a huge black hole in the ground surrounded by a chain-link fence appeared on the screen. ‘Last night the entire Chimpwick’s Chocolate factory vanished. Into, as they say, thin air. Can you imagine what’ll happen when news of this gets out? Kids will go crazy without their Chimpwick’s Chocolate. If that factory isn’t found soon there’ll be panic, rioting – chaos on a grand scale.’
‘So who do we think’s responsible?’ asked Arabella. ‘Crack squad of guerrilla dentists? Billionaire sprout farmer with a grudge? Thirty-storey diabetic lizard monster?’
‘Our best guess so far,’ said Auntie Roz, ‘is this woman.’ A photo appeared of a stern-faced woman in her thirties with dark-rimmed glasses and a long ponytail. ‘Her name is Paula Dimpling.’
‘She removed an entire chocolate factory?’ asked Dan. ‘Are you sure? She doesn’t look like she has the upper-body strength.’
‘She’s a scientist,’ said Auntie Roz. ‘A total, certified genius. Used to work at the chocolate factory inventing new products. The salted-caramel starfish was one of hers.
‘Our sources say she recently walked out in a huff. Had a big argument with the boss. Now she teaches science at a nearby primary school.
‘We reckon if anyone has the motive and the intelligence to make an entire chocolate factory vanish, it’s her.’
Flax shrugged. ‘So go over there and slap a pair of handcuffs on her.’
‘Ha!’ said Auntie Roz. ‘First, we need proof. We need to get close to her, find out if she’s really involved. And by we, I do of course mean you. You will go undercover into the school where she teaches and investigate.’
Arabella folded her arms. ‘Oh, terrific! Stuck in some smelly old class toy box all day, getting mauled by a bunch of sticky-fingered brats. Just what I always wanted!’
Auntie Roz smiled an odd, knowing smile. ‘That’s not quite what I meant by undercover. Meet me at the DEPARTMENT OF SECRET AFFAIRS, Tech Division, in one hour.’
‘Sounds intriguing,’ said Flax. ‘We’ll be there.’
‘Oh – one last thing,’ said Auntie Roz.
The three Spy Toys looked at her expectantly.
‘An ex-colleague of mine is coming to see you today. Goes by the name of Pandora Grebe. She wants to profile you for a brand new magazine we’re helping set up, SPIES & SPYING MONTHLY. Exciting, eh?’
Dan, Arabella and Flax exchanged a swift look.
‘Sounds great,’ said Flax. ‘We’ll keep an eye out for her.’
Sixty minutes later, Dan, Flax and Arabella were sitting in the reception area of the Tech Division of the DEPARTMENT OF SECRET AFFAIRS. It was a smallish room with a row of seats, a shiny vending machine and a desk, behind which sat a bored young woman playing a game on her mobile phone. The phone was making a lot of loud beeping and exploding noises.
The door opened and Auntie Roz bustled in, bristling with energy. ‘Ah, good. You’re here. Welcome to Tech Division. Shall we get started? I want you to meet our tech expert, Dr Willows.’
‘Lead the way!’ said Flax eagerly, ever the gadget buff. ‘Are they in the main building?’
Auntie Roz looked puzzled. ‘I don’t understand. This IS the main building. This is the whole department.’
‘This one little room?’ said Flax. ‘I thought this was just the reception area!’
‘See that?’ said Auntie Roz, pointing at the vending machine. ‘That is the very latest 3D SwiftoPrint. It can manufacture any piece of technology you need almost instantly, simply by being fed the required specifications. We don’t need huge expensive labs any more.’
Flax laughed delightedly. ‘Impressive! And who invented that?’
‘I did,’ said the young woman behind the desk. She was still staring at the screen of her phone, intent on her game. ‘Erm … hang on a sec,’ she muttered. There was a loud electronic crashing noise from the phone and a brief musical fanfare. ‘Darn it! Five points away from my highest ever score.’ She stood up. ‘Anyway – hiya, I’m Dr Willows. Just give me a moment to scan you guys.’ She pointed her mobile phone at Flax, Arabella and Dan in turn. Each time the phone emitted a loud BEEEEEEEEP.
‘So what the heck’s going on here?’ asked Arabella. ‘How’s this lady gonna help us go undercover in a school? A place, incidentally, I am not looking forward to visiting. Did I ever tell you guys how much I hate kids?’
‘Yeah,’ said Dan. ‘Quite often. And in some detail.’
‘You won’t be going undercover as toys,’ said Auntie Roz. ‘You’ll be going undercover as children.’
A
rabella spluttered. ‘How? Gonna take more than a few make-up tips to make furball here pass for a schoolkid.’
‘Then check this out,’ said Dr Willows, and pointed her phone at the 3D SwiftoPrint. There was a different, louder BEEEEEPnoise and the machine began to whir and hum.
‘I believe your new outfits are cooking now,’ said Auntie Roz.
The machine pinged like a microwave oven and dispensed three neat, flat, square packages, each about the size of a CD. Auntie Roz handed one apiece to the Spy Toys. ‘Dr Willows – if you would kindly explain?’
‘Yeah, for sure,’ said Dr Willows. ‘Maybe it’ll be easier if I show rather than tell? On each of your packages you will see a small red button. Please press that button now.’
Flax, Arabella and Dan pressed their buttons. There was a noise like crackling electricity and the three packages suddenly sprang open with an intense flash of blue light. The three Spy Toys staggered and rubbed their eyes.
‘What happened?’ asked Flax blearily.
‘Your face!’ Arabella gasped at Dan.
‘Your face!’ Dan gasped at Arabella.
‘My face!’ cried Flax, looking at his reflection in the shiny surface of the 3D SwiftoPrint machine. He motioned for Dan and Arabella to join him.
The rabbit, the rag doll and the teddy bear stared at their reflections.
The three children staring back at them looked to be around ten years of age. Where Dan had stood, there was now a stocky boy with a spray of untidy red hair and a confused expression. In Arabella’s place slouched a gloomy-looking girl with long raven-black tresses. And staring back at Flax was a skinny fair-haired boy wearing thick-lensed glasses. All three were wearing the same slightly grubby dark green school uniform.
