S.T.I.N.K.B.O.M.B.

by Rob Stevens

  ‘How many times do I have to remind you, STINKBOMB’s mission is not to rescue your father?’

  ‘You’re right.’ Archie nodded. ‘Our mission is to save the world – so how are we going to do that from inside a police station?’

  One wheel on the housekeeper’s trolley squeaked as Gemma pushed it to the end of the hotel corridor. Its hidden cargo weighed the trolley down and she had to lean into it, using all her strength just to keep it moving. Stopping at the service elevator, she pushed the button and waited for the lift to arrive. As the double doors slid open, Gemma saw two uniformed police officers appear at the far end of the passageway, stopping outside Archie’s room and banging on the door. Quickly turning and lowering her head, she pushed her trolley into the lift and pressed the button for the ground floor.

  Her mouth was dry and her heart was fluttering and, as the doors closed, she prayed she had made the right decision.

  ‘The police have just arrived,’ she said to the bed sheets in a low voice. There was no response.

  When the lift doors opened on the ground floor, Gemma heaved the trolley into a hotel corridor. The short passage led to a room piled high with freshly laundered towels and sheets as well as huge plastic bins containing dirty laundry. Two doors led off the laundry room. Through one she could see the hotel kitchens, through the other a small external courtyard. Gemma rammed open the swing doors with the trolley and let if freewheel down a short ramp and into the warm morning air.

  Agent X-ray immediately identified the vehicle waiting to take her to the airport. It was a silver VW saloon – the type of car commonly used by British Embassy staff on the continent. The driver stepped out of the car and approached her. He was about twenty-five years old, with short, neatly-parted dark hair and smartly dressed in a plain grey suit. Judging by his nervous expression, Gemma reckoned he was new to field ops – probably still in training.

  It’s warm for the time of year,’ he said.

  Gemma nodded and recited her pre-arranged response. ‘One swallow doesn’t make a summer though.’

  Without another word the driver grabbed one end of the trolley and helped Gemma haul it over to the passenger door of the car.

  ‘It’s a heavy package,’ he observed.

  ‘There’s been a slight change of plan,’ Gemma announced matter-of-factly. ‘I’m invoking agency protocol seven-six-alpha.’

  ‘Seven-six-alpha?’ the driver repeated anxiously.

  ‘Yes. Basically I’m changing our destination.’

  ‘But my orders—’

  ‘Listen to me,’ Gemma said with quiet authority. ‘As you know, seven-six-alpha gives an active field agent the power to change predetermined procedure provided it is done in the name of National Security. Now if you’d like to call your boss to check then be my guest – although I’m not sure your ignorance of manual Foxtrot Bravo Thirteen would reflect too well on your training record.’

  The driver nodded vigorously. ‘You’re right. My mistake. OK – let’s get the package in the vehicle. What’s the new destination?’

  Agent X-ray pulled aside the bed sheet covering the laundry bag. ‘Tell this guy where we’re going,’ she instructed.

  Finn’s blank fish-like eyes stared out of the large canvas basket. His knees were pulled into his chest and his mouth hung open gormlessly. ‘I don’t know,’ he said with a confused shrug.

  ‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ Gemma sighed, yanking the bed sheet again to reveal two other figures.

  Curled into tight balls, Archie and Barney raised their foreheads off their knees and smiled.

  ‘Kirchdorfer Strasse,’ Archie said, climbing out of the trolley. ‘And hurry.’

  Hand-over-hand, Archie dragged the camouflage netting off the Dragonfly and bundled it into a ball before shoving it back into the small compartment in the plane’s fuselage.

  Agent X-ray admired the sleek silver jet with a long whistle. ‘Wicked,’ she murmured at last, a smile passing briefly across her lips. She had changed into a black T-shirt, jeans and a leather jacket in the back of the BMW Slung over her shoulder was a rucksack containing her laptop, mobile phone and a few mobile earpieces, which had been stored in the boot of the car.

  Barney helped Gemma and Finn into the cockpit, folding the pilot’s seat forward so they could climb into the leather chairs behind. Meanwhile Archie made a quick circuit of the plane, checking the tyres and looking out for any stray twigs or leaves that might be sucked into the engines.

  Within five minutes everyone was strapped in and Archie had started the two jet engines. He released the parking brake, allowing the plane to trundle out from under the cover of the tree towards the centre of the field.

  ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ Gemma asked as Archie pulled the nozzle lever back to the hover stop.

  Archie smiled at her over his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, pushing the thrust levers forward. ‘Flying a jet is child’s play.’

  ‘Fasten your seat belts,’ Barney added. ‘You’re about to get the fright – I mean flight – of your lives.’

  By the time the plane had climbed through ten thousand feet Archie had verbally filed a flight plan to Lyons with air traffic control and established a course to their first checkpoint. When the aircraft was maintaining its heading and speed steadily he quickly programmed the remaining waypoints into the navigation computer.

  ‘This is pretty fly,’ Gemma called from the back. ‘It’s like being in a really flash limousine that happens to be a jet plane. And your dad invented this thing?’

  Archie glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

  ‘He must be pretty cool,’ Gemma surmised.

  Archie nodded again, swallowing hard.

  Barney turned in his seat and smiled approvingly at Gemma. ‘Good work getting the driver to play ball back there,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what I would have done – invoke the old classic seven-six-alpha protocol.’

  Gemma nodded, ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yes siree,’ Barney said with a wink.

  ‘That’s funny,’ Gemma said absently, admiring the green countryside far below. ‘Because there’s no such thing as a seven-six-alpha protocol. I was just bluffing. I knew he wouldn’t dare check it out in case it made him look stupid.’

  ‘Oh yeah, of course,’ Barney agreed hurriedly. ‘That’s what I meant. I would have made up something like a seven-six-alpha protocol if I’d been in your shoes.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Gemma mumbled.

  Barney turned to face the front and noticed Archie struggling to stifle a smile.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Barney demanded.

  ‘Nothing,’ Archie said, pursing his lips.

  The Dragonfly’s navigation computer predicted Archie should start his descent in less than five minutes and his hands were beginning to sweat. Gemma had spent much of the hour-long flight surfing the Net on her laptop. Various celebrity gossip sites had photographs of Caesar Romario relaxing in his luxury residence and Google Earth offered sufficient external shots to identify their destination from the air. Finn was reclining in his plush seat, silently transfixed by the scenery passing serenely beneath him.

  ‘So do we have any idea if Doom is working alone?’ Archie asked.

  ‘Almost certainly not,’ Gemma replied, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. ‘Just before Villenemi faked his own death a couple of years ago, a prison van carrying violent criminals was held up in London and there’s evidence he financed the grab.’

  ‘Why would he want to free the criminals?’ said Archie.

  ‘We don’t think he freed them. In fact quite the opposite,’ Gemma said, smiling grimly. ‘The theory is that he used the criminals as human guinea pigs, experimenting on them to perfect his techniques. As well as meddling with their DNA he probably cloned them so that they could guard his hideout.’

  ‘Sounds like an all-round nice guy,’ said Archie. ‘How do you think he’s selecting his victims now?’

 
We’re pretty sure he has access to SPADE,’ Gemma stated. ‘Karl Schumaker and Henry Ulrik both scored inside the top one hundred from their year group, and when your dad was sixteen his SPADE score was the highest in the country.’

  Archie allowed himself a brief moment of pride. ‘So that reinforces the theory that Doom is an ex-government employee.’

  ‘Exactly The very existence of SPADE is top secret. There’s no way Doctor Doom could get that information without insider knowledge of SPADE’s programming protocols.’

  ‘So why the long gap between hijacking the prison van and the recent abductions?’ Barney mused.

  ‘We don’t know for sure,’ Gemma admitted. ‘One possible explanation could be that Villenemi has been perfecting his technique this whole time. Now he’s got the science bit sorted he’s gathering top-quality specimens ready for the real thing.’

  ‘Meanwhile his hideout’s being guarded by horrible mutants,’ added Barney. ‘If they’re anything like the dude in the gallery we’ve got our work cut out.’

  ‘I dread to think what other sort of monsters he’s created.’ Gemma shuddered.

  Her words hung ominously in the air as Archie eased the thrust levers back to idle and lowered the Dragonfly’s nose to start its descent.

  ‘Whatever they are, we’re about to find out,’ he announced. ‘Everybody buckle up.’

  Caesar Romario’s house was situated about fifty miles north of the city of Lyons, amidst endless acres of flat farmland and vineyards. The level terrain offered Archie plenty of suitable landing sites and he chose a ploughed field a few hundred yards behind the footballer’s vast farmhouse conversion.

  Archie, Barney, Gemma and Finn climbed out of the aircraft and stealthily approached the building, darting between the fruit trees that peppered the intervening field. Reaching the house’s ten-foot perimeter wall, they skirted it to the front gate and crouched behind a statue of a lion to plan their next move.

  ‘Why don’t I just ring the buzzer?’ Gemma suggested, nodding towards the keypad inlaid in the stonework next to the iron gate.

  ‘And say what?’ Archie whispered.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Gemma muttered, studying the house through the gate. ‘How about, “Hi, I was just wondering if any evil villains live here”?’

  ‘Negative,’ Barney hissed. ‘We must remain covert at all times. This is a black ops mission. I repeat, black ops.’

  ‘Calm down, Agent Zulu,’ Gemma whispered. ‘I was only joking. You don’t have to get your walkie-talkie in a twist. Now watch and learn.’

  She pressed the circular button beneath the numbered keypad and waited.

  ‘Oui?’ The female voice sounded irritable.

  ‘Oh, hello?’ Gemma said pleasantly. ‘I was just wondering …’

  The voice on the intercom snapped, ‘Ee eez not ere. Leave me alone.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Gemma said. ‘Who is not there?’

  ‘My ’usband,’ said the woman. ‘Ee eez playing away from ’ome. Again.’

  ‘Oh, no, I’m not looking for your husband,’ Gemma giggled sweetly. ‘You see I’ve lost my cat and I think he may have wandered into your house. He’s black and white and his name’s, er, Skunk.’

  Archie and Barney exchanged surprised glances.

  ‘Just a moment,’ said the woman crossly. ‘I’m coming down.’

  Gemma shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and scanned the scenery as she waited. After a few seconds there was a loud buzz and she grabbed one side of the ornate gate and pushed. With a sharp click the gate opened and the buzzing stopped.

  Archie watched as Gemma turned and nodded briefly to him then strode confidently up the long drive towards the farmhouse, her feet scrunching on the gravel.

  She looked tiny as she waited in front of the building’s grand front door.

  ‘She’s so cool,’ Barney whispered.

  Archie nodded slowly. ‘I told you so.’

  ‘Who’s cool?’ Finn enquired, gazing dreamily into the distance.

  The farmhouse door opened and a young woman wearing a pale pink velour tracksuit appeared. Gemma spoke for a while, gesturing to the nearby village and pointing to the wall at the side of the house, then she hung her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The woman opened the door a little wider, said something to which Gemma nodded eagerly, then took Gemma’s hand and led her inside, closing the door behind them.

  ‘Bingo,’ Barney mumbled. ‘The hamster is inside the beehive.’

  The boys waited in silence, occasionally peering round the statue in the hope of glimpsing Gemma. After forty minutes Archie and Barney were beginning to get edgy, while Finn remained blissfully unaware of the potential danger Gemma was in.

  ‘Come on, where is she?’ Archie said, glancing anxiously at his watch. ‘It’s gone midday. Less than two hours until Doom promised to carry out his final experiment.’

  ‘I think Little Red Riding Hood has met the three bears,’ Barney replied. ‘I say we invoke phase two of Operation Trojan Horse.’

  ‘Since when is this Operation Trojan Horse?’ Archie asked. ‘And as far as I know, there isn’t a phase two.’

  ‘If you say so,’ sulked Barney. ‘How about we just go and ring the bell and say we’ve lost our friend then?’

  Archie was still considering Barney’s suggestion when the farmhouse door opened and Gemma came out. Turning to wave at the woman, she retraced her steps down the driveway and through the gate.

  ‘What happened?’ Archie asked as they regrouped.

  ‘Man!’ Gemma sighed. ‘I thought I was never going to escape.’

  ‘Copy that,’ Barney replied. ‘Did you have to evade Doom himself or just some of his evil henchmen?’

  ‘Neither,’ Gemma said flatly. ‘Just that woman. There’s no one else in the entire house and believe me I should know – I had the full guided tour. I saw inside every wardrobe, examined every en suite bathroom. Even the wine cellar holds no mystery for me now. She is in there all on her own.’

  Barney digested the information for a moment. ‘So what you’re saying is that Doctor Doom is actually a she and that she’s plotting world domination all on her own?’

  Gemma snorted and shook her head. ‘No, genius. What I’m saying is that lady is a regular footballer’s wife and she’s so lonely she’d tell her life story to a donkey if she could get it into the house.’

  ‘So … the trail to Doom has gone cold?’ asked Archie reluctantly.

  Gemma shrugged. ‘Stone cold.’

  The four friends returned to the Dragonfly and strapped themselves dejectedly into their seats.

  ‘I can’t believe we’ve come the wrong way,’ Archie said. He thought of his father and remembered the final tense conversation they’d shared. He wanted to take back all his angry complaining and tell his father how much he looked up to him. Sensing the hands on his watch sweeping inexorably towards two o’clock he asked Gemma, ‘Are you sure Doom’s not hiding in there somewhere?’

  ‘I promise I would say if there was any chance at all that we’re on the right track,’ said Gemma softly. She reached forward and placed a reassuring hand on Archie’s shoulder. ‘But we’re not. The woman I spoke to is called Zoe Romario. She’s French. She used to be in advertising but had to leave her job a couple of years ago when Caesar was transferred from Monaco to Lyons. Basically she hates being stuck out in the countryside here – she kept going on about how much she missed the house and the life they used to have in Nice.’

  Glumly, Archie sat with his chin on his chest, replaying Doom’s text message over in his head. Something about the message had been niggling him all along, and as he listened to Gemma he suddenly realised what it was. Dr Doom had referred to his ‘nice’ hideout. This struck Archie as a really lame adjective coming from an odious mastermind bragging about his imminent world domination. Luxurious hideout – possibly, formidable – definitely, but nice? That just didn’t ring true.

  A whoosh of adrenalin coursed
through him. ‘Doom isn’t staying in a nice hideout,’ he yelped. ‘It’s a Nice hideout!’

  ‘Huh?’ asked Barney.

  ‘When he played for Monaco he lived in a huge mansion in the hills overlooking the Riviera. Now I remember seeing it on MTV when we met you at the safe house. He moved to Lyons two years ago, so I guess that’s when he sold his place in Nice.’

  ‘That definitely ties in with the timing of Doom needing a new pad after faking his death,’ said Gemma.

  ‘So he bought Romario’s house in Nice,’ Barney stated.

  Archie nodded as he fired up the Dragonfly’s jet engines. ‘And turned it into his “nice” hideout in Caesar’s Palace.’

  ‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ asked Gemma. ‘Nice – here we come.’

  ‘Nice,’ Finn parroted. ‘That’s nice.’

  The Dragonfly tore through the sky just a few hundred feet above the rocky mountain ridge and as Archie banked hard to his left, the ground fell steeply into the deep blue ocean far below. He carved a turn just to the east of the white crescent that was Nice’s Promenade des Anglais.

  Gemma had been busy searching the Internet for information during the short flight south from Lyons. One article she’d found revealed that the footballer had sold the property through an international agency called Lux Residence. Within minutes Gemma had hacked into its online classified property database and discovered that the house had a V-shaped floor plan, a swimming pool on the veranda and a helipad. She had also established the coordinates of the mansion, which Archie had programmed into his navigation computer. A green star on his moving map display now represented the location of what they suspected to be Dr Doom’s lair.

  Archie pulled the nozzle lever halfway back to the hover stop and allowed the airspeed to bleed off, raising the aircraft’s nose to maintain its altitude. According to his navigation display, Dr Doom’s hideout was three miles away, directly northward. Turning to head inland, he feverishly scanned the mountainside that was rapidly expanding in his windscreen.