Spy Toys: Undercover

by Mark Powers

  Jack Dimpling had also forgotten his PE kit. He was sitting next to Flax on the bench, staring at the screen of his smartphone, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  ‘You making an early start on our maths homework?’ asked Flax.

  Jack laughed lightly. ‘Ah, no. I’m playing TURBO BADGER. It’s the coolest game ever. You want a go?’

  Flax shook his head. ‘I don’t do games. Waste of time.’

  ‘Not this one,’ said Jack. ‘It’s brilliant.’ He passed the smartphone to Flax. ‘You’re a badger flying over Saladville in your turbo-copter, see? And you have to zap the cabbages with your laser zonker as they zoom past. You press this button here to fire. Go on. Try it! I’ll restart the game for you …’

  ‘Must I?’ said Flax irritably, but then, realising he probably shouldn’t appear rude, he looked down at the screen of Jack’s smartphone as the game reset itself and fresh batches of animated cabbages began to streak past the helicopter at the bottom of the screen.

  ‘Now!’ said Jack. ‘Fire!’

  Flax jabbed the fire button rapidly. On the screen, a red laser bolt zapped from a cannon on the front of the helicopter and blew up several of the cabbages. The game played a happy little fanfare sound.

  ‘Nice shooting!’ said Jack. ‘That last one was a Boss Cabbage worth five hundred points!’

  Flax shrugged. ‘And that’s good, is it?’

  ‘It’s great! I’ve never been able to hit one and I’ve been playing this game for weeks. You must have superhuman reactions!’

  Flax shrugged modestly. ‘Oh, maybe just a little. Oh look! I’ve hit another one!’ He gave a little chuckle of pleasure.

  Jack shook his head in wonder. ‘Wow! You’re a TURBO BADGER natural!’

  There was a TUMP sound and the PE class’s rugby ball suddenly dropped at Dan’s feet.

  ‘Throw it back, please!’ called one of the kids on the pitch.

  Dan picked up the ball and prepared to throw it – only to have Arabella snatch it from his grip.

  ‘I got this, fluffbrain,’ she drawled. ‘You’d only chuck it into the next county or something and attract attention. We have to play nice with these kiddiewinks, remember?’

  Dan gave a sheepish nod. ‘I understand.’

  ‘OK, then.’ She threw the ball at the kid with all her might. It struck him squarely on the forehead and he collapsed with a groan.

  Arabella cackled. ‘Ha, sweet! How many points do you get for that?’

  When home-time came, the three Spy Toys stood waiting in the playground for Auntie Roz to pick them up.

  Flax felt a tug on his sleeve, and he turned to find Jack Dimpling standing shyly beside him.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Er, hi, Flax,’ said Jack nervously. ‘Me and the guys were wondering if you might want to come to our after-school club? It’s pretty awesome. We do all kinds of cool sciency stuff.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Flax. ‘But I have to be getting home. Fish fingers tonight - I’m very excited.’ Flax had researched the eating habits of children before the mission and decided that this was a good answer to give to such a question.

  Jack persisted. ‘I think you’d like it, Flax. Repairing toys is just the tip of the iceberg.’ He winked and handed Flax something. Flax looked at the object. It was a bar of Chimpwick’s Chocolate.

  A horn hooted.

  ‘Hey, nerdbrains!’ yelled back Arabella as she and Dan ran towards Auntie Roz’s car. ‘Quit rabbiting! Our ride’s here!’

  Flax saw Jack wince at Arabella’s unkind description of them. ‘Sorry about her,’ he muttered. Then he turned to Dan and Arabella. ‘You guys go on,’ he called. ‘I’m going to hang out with my friend for a bit.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE SECRET SOCIETY

  Flax set off in the direction of the shed at the rear of the playground. ‘Where are you going?’ asked Jack. ‘Science Club?’

  Jack shook his head. ‘That’s for school time. The after-school club takes place somewhere much cooler. Come on.’

  He led him to the bicycle shed. The other kids from Science Club were there on their bikes waiting for them.

  ‘Looks like we have a new recruit,’ Jack told the others. ‘Flax’ll ride with me.’ He unchained a bicycle from a rack and sat at the front of its saddle, leaving room for Flax to squeeze in behind him. The children pedalled out of the school gates and along the street until they arrived at a wide expanse of waste ground enclosed by a wire fence. The fence had a gap in it and the children squeezed through, hunching over their bicycles.

  Jack looked at Flax over his shoulder. ‘The meeting place is about three miles away. Going through this bit of wasteland cuts a good chunk of time off the journey. Plus it means we can go as fast as we like.’

  ‘And how fast is that?’ asked Flax.

  Jack laughed. ‘I’m glad you asked.’

  He flicked a switch on the handlebar of his bike. The other children did the same. There was a roar of engines.

  Flax felt the bike shudder – and then it and the other bikes suddenly surged forward at tremendous speed. He felt the hair on the head of his android bodysuit flutter and billow as the bikes zoomed across the waste ground at a dizzying rate, streaming fiery trails in their wake.

  He whooped with delight. ‘Rocket-powered bikes!’ he yelled above the screaming engines. ‘This is amazing! Astounding! Incredible!’

  ‘Whoa there, Flax!’ said Jack. ‘Save a few of those cool adjectives for later. You’ll need them.’

  ‘Are these bikes made by Snaztacular Ultrafun?’ asked Flax.

  Jack snorted. ‘Hardly! We did these modifications ourselves. These aren’t kids’ toys. This is proper tech!’

  The group of rocket bikes crested a small hill and skidded to a halt at its summit. Jack pointed at a low, squarish building made of grey concrete at the bottom of the slope. Its boarded-up windows and empty, litter-strewn car park were not welcoming.

  ‘What’s that place?’ asked Flax.

  ‘The Learnatorium. Used to be an old science museum. It’s where we hang out. Us and the others.’

  ‘There’s more of you?’

  Jack grinned. ‘A few. Let’s go.’

  The rocket bikes revved their engines, making a sound like a pride of angry lions, and thundered down the slope.

  Arriving at the rear of the building, Jack and the others dismounted their bikes and entered through a fire escape. As they stepped into a darkened corridor, a pulsing blue light flashed over each of them. When it struck Flax, a screeching electronic alarm began to sound.

  Flax’s heart raced. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Jack. ‘It’s just a security scanner checking who we are. It doesn’t recognise you so it’s having a bit of a panic.’ He tapped a few keys on a square metal box hanging from the wall. ‘There. It knows you’re a friend now. Follow me. You’ll like this.’

  He pushed open a door and he, Flax and the others stepped through into a large chamber, the main exhibition space of the museum. There were glass cases everywhere filled with interesting odds and ends – bits of meteorites, fossils, space-rocket engine parts, decades-old computers. Huge papier mâché representations of the planets hung from the ceiling.

  ‘Wow,’ muttered Flax softly. ‘Awesome!’

  At the far end of the chamber was a stage facing an audience of excited, chattering children. On the stage was a microphone on a stand and behind it a huge video screen. The air buzzed with anticipation. Jack and the others found some vacant seats and sat down.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Flax.

  ‘It’s a special day today at SIKBAG,’ said Jack. ‘Our leader, April, has something big to announce.’

  The eyebrows of Flax’s android bodysuit formed themselves into a frown. ‘Did you say sickbag?’

  ‘SIKBAG,’ explained Jack, stands for the Society of Intelligent Kids, Brain boxes And Geniuses. Sort of a secret society for brainy kids like us. I could tell straight a
way you were a potential member.’

  ‘Members of SIKBAG!’ boomed an amplified voice. ‘Please show your appreciation for our leader, April Spume!’

  The tiny figure of a girl with long pigtails strode out on to the stage and the crowd let out a cheer. She marched confidently up to the microphone and stood on her tiptoes to remove it from the stand. Behind, the screen showed a huge video image of her. She looked about seven years old.

  ‘Who do grown-ups constantly push around?’ she bellowed into the microphone. Her voice echoed off the building’s concrete walls.

  ‘Kids!’ chorused back the audience.

  ‘Who are the cleverest and best people in all the world?’

  ‘Kids!’

  ‘And who will one day rule the world?’

  ‘Kids!’

  Once again, the audience erupted into applause and cheers, stamping their feet so that the entire building shook. Flax found himself joining in with the audience responses. It was hard not to get swept up in the atmosphere of it all.

  April Spume beamed at the audience. ‘Welcome, all of you, to this very special meeting of SIKBAG. As you know, since the creation of our glorious organisation, we at SIKBAG have striven behind the scenes to make life better for our fellow kids. And look what we’ve achieved! Convincing the government to introduce a minimum level of pocket money for all children! Making it illegal to ruffle a kid’s hair and say, “All right, sunshine?” without their written permission! Forcing all grandmothers to shave so kids don’t get prickled when they give them a kiss!’

  The crowd cheered each of these achievements in turn.

  ‘Impressive though these victories are,’ continued April, ‘they are only the beginning. For tonight, SIKBAG enters a bold new phase of operation! I have realised that there’s one thing that always holds children back, one single thing that prevents them from achieving their true potential. One thing I intend to eliminate completely! Do you know what it is?’

  ‘No!’ chorused the crowd. ‘Tell us!’

  April raised a hand to the skies like a preacher. Behind her, the massive video image of her did the same. ‘Fun!’ she cried. ‘I intend to eliminate all fun!’

  There was a long silence.

  Flax peered around the room. Children were staring at April, frowning and shrugging in puzzlement. What had she said?

  ‘You want to get rid of all fun?’ asked a tiny voice from the back of the room.

  ‘That’s right!’ said April. ‘Clever kids like us could be ruling this entire planet right now if we weren’t constantly distracted by doing fun things. Eating tooth-rotting sweets! Playing with silly toys! Watching stupid television programmes! Drinking unhealthy fizzy drinks! What a waste of time these activities are! That’s why SIKBAG will now be stamping them all out! Completely!’

  A gasp erupted from the crowd, followed by the soft hiss of shocked whispering.

  April’s eyes sparkled like shards of broken glass. She reached into the pocket of her dress and took out a tiny remote control device. The image of her on the giant video screen vanished and was replaced by that of a large and sturdy-looking building made of concrete and brick. ‘This,’ she said, ‘is the factory of Snaztacular Ultrafun, the world’s biggest manufacturer of toys. Toys! Those pointless, expensive, brain-numbing wastes of time that distract kids from what they should be doing – ruling the world! Well, watch this, my fellow SIKBAG members!’ She jabbed a tiny button on her remote control. An eerie blue glow appeared around the factory and then, with a sudden FLLIPPPPHHHHH! noise, the entire building vanished, leaving nothing but a gaping hole in the ground.

  The crowd gasped again.

  April giggled. ‘Behold! Our cleverest members have invented a teleport device! A machine that can take a thing apart into its smallest bits, beam them anywhere in the world, and then reassemble them perfectly in the new location. Our test on Chimpwick’s Chocolate factory was a complete success and now we have stolen the Snaztacular Ultrafun factory too, teleporting it to the middle of the Sahara Desert where no one will ever find it!’

  More gasps from the crowd. Most of them amazed, many of them scared.

  Flax’s heart began to beat very fast. ‘Is she always like this?’ he whispered to Jack.

  The boy shook his head. ‘Err – no. I think she’s gone a tiny bit potty, actually.’

  ‘But this is just the beginning!’ April continued, a cold glint in her eye. ‘Further targets are planned!’

  Images of two more buildings appeared on the screen.

  ‘The studios of Kidzland TV,’ explained April. ‘The channel that numbs kids’ brains with its tedious, dumbed-down programmes like Puppy Pirates and Kitten Kops. And the bottling plant of Bogey Cola, the disgusting soft drink that kids seem addicted to these days. Soon, when world terror and panic have reached their maximum following the loss of Chimpwick’s Chocolate and Snaztacular Ultrafun, we shall teleport away these other two places and the world’s children will have lost four of their main sources of fun. Then eventually, no longer distracted, and under the command of us here at SIKBAG, kids will rise up and overthrow the grown-ups!’

  She raised a fist in triumph, as if expecting to receive thunderous applause, but the only response was more shocked gasps and whispers.

  ‘Is that really wise?’ asked a tiny voice.

  April frowned at the audience. ‘What? Who said that?’

  ‘Me.’ It was a very small boy with angelic wisps of blond hair. He was sitting in the front row of the audience. ‘Playing with toys is actually really good for children’s intelligence. TV can be very educational, too. And surely there’s nothing wrong with a bit of chocolate or fizzy pop every now and again? As a special treat?’

  A few cautious murmurs of agreement came from the crowd.

  April Spume smiled a sickly smile. ‘I see,’ she said very quietly.

  A horrible hush descended on the room. It was like the split second of silence between a piano falling out of an upper-storey window and it hitting the pavement.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked the boy in a friendly voice.

  ‘Max,’ said the boy. ‘Max Pinker.’

  ‘You like playing, Max. Would you like to play a game now?’ asked April.

  The boy nodded uncertainly. ‘Erm, OK.’

  April raised the microphone to her lips and said in a low voice, ‘Sebastian? Young Max here would like to play thumb war.’

  A squat boy with a thick mop of brown hair and a single black glove shuffled on to the stage.

  ‘SIKBAG members,’ said April, ‘may I introduce my new bodyguard, Sebastian?’

  Jack’s eyes widened. ‘I’ve seen that kid on the news,’ he hissed at Flax. ‘He’s a dangerous criminal. Wanted on a hundred different counts of vandalism. They call him Sebastian Plum and his Stainless-Steel Thumb!’

  ‘And his what?’ asked Flax.

  ‘Just watch.’

  ‘One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war,’ chanted Sebastian Plum gravely. He removed his black glove. The thumb of his right hand was a bright, glinting silver colour. He clambered off the stage, linked hands with Max, and the two began thumb wrestling. Max giggled with pleasure but then Sebastian pressed his shining metal thumb down hard on Max’s hand. The little boy let out a long howl of pain.

  ‘Let this be a lesson to you all!’ thundered April into the microphone, jabbing a finger at the helpless form of Max as he writhed in agony under the pressure of Sebastian’s steel thumb. ‘I will not allow these traitorous outbursts! Release him, Sebastian.’

  Sebastian Plum loosened his grip on Max’s hand. The little blond boy moaned and sucked his sore knuckle.

  ‘Anyone else care to chip in?’ asked April, staring around the audience. Silence was the response. ‘Good! And don’t think of trying to leave. All exits and windows are sealed. Soon, you will be transported to our secret base, from where we SIKBAG members will form the ruling elite of the new kid-dominated world. We can’t allow ourselves to be
influenced by interfering adults, can we? None of you will ever see your parents again.’

  The gasps that now came from the audience were very quiet and very, very frightened.

  ‘And now,’ said April brightly, ‘time for nibbles.’ She clicked her fingers and a spotlight lit up several long tables covered with plates of food. ‘We have rice cakes, cucumber slices and muesli bars. Help yourselves, guys!’

  The crowd of children rose to their feet, dazed and numb, and began to trudge slowly towards the tables of food.

  ‘This plan of April’s is absolutely horrible,’ muttered Jack. ‘We have to stop her. But how?’

  ‘Help is at hand,’ said Flax, and lifted the edge of the cloth covering one of the buffet tables. He swiftly dived underneath, motioning for Jack to follow.

  ‘What are you doing under here?’ asked Jack, crouching awkwardly in the confined space.

  ‘Contacting some friends,’ said Flax. He opened his school bag, took out a mobile phone and speedily began to compose a text.

  TO: AUNTIE ROZ.

  CHOC FACTORY TELEPORTED 2 SAHARA BY BRAINY KID GANG SIKBAG. SNAZ U’FUN FACTORY TOO! KIDZLAND TV, BOGEY COLA NEXT. THEIR HQ IS OLD LEARNATORIUM SCI MUSEUM.

  ‘You see, I’m part of a secret organisation myself,’ he explained to Jack. ‘One that will be very interested to hear what’s happened here today.’

  He thumbed the SEND key and let out a deep breath.

  The tablecloth lifted and a face appeared, a brutish snout of a face.

  ‘What are you doing under here?’ rumbled Sebastian Plum.

  Flax straightened up in surprise, banging his head on the underside of the table. There was a flash of blue light and a crackle of electricity.

  Sebastian Plum rubbed his eyes. Where the boy with the mobile phone had hunched under the table there was now a very surprised-looking rabbit. Jack stared at him in disbelief.