The Knight's Armor

by Paul Gamble

  It is interesting to note that this is also the reason people think that Vikings had horns on their helmets. As your history teacher will no doubt have told you, Vikings originally didn’t have horns on their helmets. The reason for the confusion is simple—although the cows’ bodies were “urban camouflaged” and could not be seen by city dwellers, their horns were not. Therefore, every time Vikings attacked they were accompanied by strange disembodied horns that seemed to float alongside them, thus starting the horned-helmet rumor.

  Some of you may think that you have never seen a black-and-white cow in the middle of a city. This just goes to show you how effective their camouflage really is.

  (EDITOR’S NOTE: Ministry operatives interested in learning how human beings can become invisible, please contact the Misery for further training.)

  * * *

  7

  THE TENDRILS OF DOOM

  “You can’t kill me,” said David. “We’re studying the Trojan War in English and I can’t die before I find out how it ends.”24 It was a fairly nonsensical thing to say, but it was in line with David’s overall approach to life.

  Jack felt slightly less worried than normal. This was his third week working for the Ministry of Strange, Unusual, and Impossible Things and frankly, he was getting used to people attempting to murder him. What made this occasion slightly different was that, unlike previous attempts, he wasn’t really sure why Mr. M was attempting Jack-i-cide. “People have tried to kill me before. It hasn’t worked—for some reason I’m actually quite murder-resistant. Mind you, on a point of etiquette it’s generally considered good villain-type manners to have the courtesy to explain why you’re going to bump me off.”

  “Yes, I’m aware that several attempts have been made on your life. But I’m a little bit more competent and skilled than your previous enemies.”

  Jack was worried that Mr. M was so calm and relaxed. In his experience, villains had a tendency to get themselves quite worked up about their insane plans to take over the world. But Mr. M seemed to be unperturbed by the whole situation. Jack stared at him. “We could just run away.”

  “Ha!” laughed Mr. M. “I’ve researched you, Jack. I’ve been making my plans for a long time. I know all your weaknesses and I’ve researched all your friends too. I was hoping it would be Trudy here, but I’m quite happy killing your friend David instead. And I know that he can’t run at the best of times, but just to make sure I left out Wellington boots for you. And you can’t run in Wellington boots.”25

  Jack looked down at his boots and realized Mr. M was right. Running wasn’t an option. But at least he could still fight with The Speed. “Well, if you know all about me then you’ll know that I’m an agent for the Ministry of SUITs and able to use The Speed.”

  “Well, of course, but The Speed is of no use if I have already captured you—why do you think I took you on a tour of the farmyard? I was only doing that to maneuver you into position by this fence. The trap I wanted to put you in can’t move—so I made you walk over to the trap.”

  Jack didn’t understand what Mr. M meant and went to take a step forward. Rather disturbingly, his legs didn’t move. Jack looked down and saw that both he and David were entangled in a series of long, green plant tendrils and vines, with red leaves sprouting from them. The long vines crept farther and farther up their bodies, squeezing their arms and binding them in a standing position.

  “I genetically modified these plants to do my bidding. These plants used to like the taste of flies and insects, but now they’re larger and rather partial to a slice of people,” Mr. M said coldly. “Now, I clearly can’t be here while my plants strangle and eat you. I’m going to have to go and establish an alibi for the time when you’ll have gone missing. Enjoy your death.”

  Jack was struggling to breathe as the vines slowly crushed his chest. “But why are you killing us?”

  The man shook his head. “I’m not that type of villain. You see, I learn from the mistakes that others make. And the biggest mistake Blackbeard and the queen of Atlantis made was letting you live long enough to figure out what was going on and how to defeat them. I shan’t make that mistake. I’m killing you before you have any idea of who I am or what I’m doing.”

  Jack had to admit this made sense. So often villains waited until they were nearly caught before they tried to get rid of the hero. It made a lot more sense to get the hero out of the way at the earliest possible opportunity.

  Mr. M started walking toward the gate out of the farm.

  “Trudy will get you; you don’t stand a chance against her,” Jack half coughed. His breath was being pressed from his body by the tightening tendrils.

  Mr. M stopped and turned. “You really think so, Jack? Haven’t you even figured that out yet? Trudy will do whatever I tell her to. I told you I’m a scientist—do you remember a scientist being mentioned recently?”

  Something clicked in Jack’s mind and he would have gasped if he had had sufficient oxygen. “You’re the evil scientist who’s holding Trudy’s mother for the queen of Atlantis.”

  “Yes,” said Mr. M. “I worked with both Blackbeard and the queen. Of course, unlike them I am going to defeat you. Now, I’m afraid I’m going to have to finish this conversation. After all, you’ll be dead shortly—and I find conversations with dead people frightfully dull.”26

  Mr. M walked out of the farm, leaving Jack and David encased by the green tendrils that were slowly crushing them to death. A large Venus flytrap’s spiked mouth appeared out of the ground where the tendrils emanated from. The exterior of the pod-mouth was a dark green, but it split open to reveal a scarlet mouth lined with long needle teeth, each dripping a purple fluid. The mouth moved through the air, snapping almost at random, but slowly snaking closer and closer to the two boys. Jack wondered whether the tendrils would suffocate and strangle them before the plant’s mouth started to chew chunks out of their bodies.

  Jack made a positive decision. He could be frightened later—possibly even have nightmares if that proved necessary—but right now what he needed was a plan. He turned to his friend David.

  “Any ideas how we can get out of this?”

  David was staring down at his feet. “I think my shoelace is undone.”

  “That’s not desperately helpful.”27

  The plant mouth was hovering in front of them so close that Jack could smell the bitter aroma from the rancid purple stuff that was dropping off its needle teeth. If Jack didn’t know better, he would have sworn that the mouth was gloating. But then he noticed something about it. It didn’t have any eyes.

  “David, the plant, it can’t see us. It doesn’t have eyes.”

  “What does that have to do with my shoelace?” asked David.

  “I can’t help feeling that you’re focusing on the wrong things at the moment,” Jack snapped. He had the start of a plan; now he just needed a way to carry it out. He struggled as hard as he could and managed to work a hand partially free. Now, if only he could get to the pile of stones. He needed to fall over, but how could he manage that while he was cocooned in the tendrils? He needed someone to give him a shove.…

  “David, can you try and move away from me?”

  “Okay, but I’m not sure what good that’ll…”

  Inside his tendril cocoon David wriggled. Although he tried to move in the opposite direction he predictably fell the wrong way, clattering into Jack and sending him sprawling onto the pile of stones. Exactly as Jack had hoped. All sorts of stones were sticking into Jack, but as he rolled across them he was looking for a very specific type.

  “Is this really the right time to be thinking about your rock collection?” gasped David. His eyes looked misty and unfocused, and his breathing was shallow.

  Jack found two pieces of the stone he was looking for. With the very last of his strength he wriggled his right arm a little bit further free. He could move it up to the elbow—and hopefully that would be far enough. He took the first piece of stone and threw it toward
the middle of the pigpen.

  “Jack, it isn’t the pigs’ fault. Stop throwing stones at them,” David murmured seconds before he passed out from lack of air.

  The vines were already beginning to pull Jack’s arm back to his side. He had one shot at this. It was a million-to-one chance. But on the bright side if it worked he would seem like the greatest hero ever. And equally if it failed at least no one would have seen how ridiculous his last-ever plan had been.

  Jack tried to remember skimming stones across the sea with his father when they vacationed on the coast. He brought his hand back as far as he could manage and then, snapping his arm forward, he threw the stone toward the one already lying at the edge of the pigpen.

  It worked. The second stone struck the first, sending out a small shower of sparks. And then …

  And then there was the enormous fireball.

  * * *

  MINISTRY OF S.U.I.T.S HANDBOOK

  FANTASY DINNER PARTIES

  SELECTION OF GUESTS

  Occasionally people will ask who you would invite to a fantasy dinner party if you could invite anyone in the world—dead or alive.

  If you make this choice, it is strongly advised that you choose to invite only people who are alive. Dead people make very poor guests at dinner parties. They don’t speak, don’t laugh at your jokes, and almost always overstay their welcome.28

  And if you want your living guests to enjoy their food you will need to surround your dead guests with a significant number of Glade PlugIn air fresheners.

  * * *

  * * *

  MINISTRY OF S.U.I.T.S HANDBOOK

  SUPER DETECTIVES

  HOW TO DEAL WITH THEM

  The world is filled with super detectives—from Sherlock Holmes to Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot to Columbo, Maigret to Lord Peter Wimsey. Given how many amazing detectives that there are, it is a wonder that anyone ever has the gall to commit a crime.

  However, if you absolutely must commit a crime, there is one piece of vital advice that you must heed. Many criminals kill someone and then go back to being a law-abiding person. This is a mistake. Rather, kill your intended victim and then when a great detective shows up—murder them before they get a chance to do any investigating. In fact, murder them before they have a chance to unpack their magnifying glass and fingerprint kit.

  If literary fiction has taught us anything, it’s that ordinary police officers never actually solve crimes. It’s always that one lone genius who manages to vanquish evildoers—and even they won’t come to a conclusion quickly; rather they’ll spend two hundred pages umming and ahhing before they finally realize the answer was obvious all along.

  If criminals actually adopted the approach suggested above, all crime novels and whodunits would finish with the following paragraph:

  And so the police officer turned away from Giles and said, “Well, I suppose we’ll never find out who killed the vicar. I can’t help feeling it might have turned out differently if Jessica Fletcher hadn’t fallen down those stairs when she got here. And it was especially unfortunate that she landed on Philip Marlowe. And even then things would have turned out okay, except for the fact that while Jonathan and Jennifer Hart were on their way to the funeral, the brakes in their car failed. And who would have thought that the great Sherlock Holmes would have accidentally cut his own throat three times while shaving. Still, I suppose these little accidents happen.”

  * * *

  8

  SHAKE THE ROOM

  It wasn’t the largest explosion that Jack had ever seen, but it was definitely in the top five. Jack and David were tossed backward several feet, causing the tendrils of the plant to loosen their grip. Jack freed himself quickly and then grabbed David by his shirt collar and dragged him out of his tendril cocoon. Once out of the plant’s grasp, David recovered consciousness quickly. They both scrambled several feet away from the plant.

  “But it’s just going to grab us again, isn’t it?” David started questioning, but he stopped as he saw the plant’s tendrils slowly snaking their way across the farm toward where the pigpen was on fire. Following the explosion, the pigs had sensibly made their way through a gap in the fence to safety.29

  David looked at Jack. He paused briefly. “Okay, I give up. What’s going on? What did you do?”

  David would normally never ask this kind of question—he was so seldom interested in Jack’s work in the Ministry of SUITs. It made Jack feel inordinately pleased with himself. “Simple. Plants have no eyes.30 But we know that plants like daisies and sunflowers will turn their heads toward the sun. So that’s how plants can tell where things are—they sense heat and move toward it. That’s how Mr. M knew the plant would attack us. He just made sure we were standing beside it long enough for it to feel our body heat, and then it attacked.”

  “But I still don’t understand…”

  “Well, I banked on the fact that an explosion would give us enough time to wriggle free. And then when we were free, the plant would just make its way toward the largest source of heat—which is over there.” Jack pointed at the burning pigpen.

  David nodded. “That seems to make sense. But how did you know that those were explosive stones?”

  “They weren’t explosive stones. Remember—Mr. M said that the pigs were bred to produce methane, so I knew that there were bound to be a few pockets of explosive gas around the pigpen.”

  “There were,” agreed David. “I smelled them when I came in.”

  “And Mr. M said that when they had plowed the ground they’d found a few pieces of stone, including flint. When you strike two pieces of flint together it causes sparks. And when you cause sparks near a pocket of methane…”

  “Boom!”31

  “Precisely,” agreed Jack. “Now we’d better get out of here before that fire burns out and the plant starts looking for other sources of heat.”

  When Jack and David walked out of the gate of the model farm a group of pupils had already gathered. Trudy pushed her way toward them.

  “Hey, Trudy,” said Jack.

  “What are you doing, Jack? Even if you aren’t going to help me find my mother, you can’t start blowing things up without me. You know how much I enjoy explosions!”

  “Sorry, we could certainly have used your help.”

  “What happened?”

  It was at that point that the headmaster ran over. Sweat was pouring down his forehead. Jack imagined that if you were a headmaster at a school where a pupil had turned into a monster in the morning and then a farm had blown up just before lunchtime, it would make you fret slightly. “What happened here?”

  In the background fire engines could be heard with their sirens blaring. Jack knew that there was no point in trying to blame Mr. M for the disaster. After all, he had been elsewhere establishing an alibi. As so frequently happened in his adventures, Jack was going to have to be slightly creative with the truth.

  * * *

  MINISTRY OF S.U.I.T.S HANDBOOK

  FLINT TOOLS

  EARLY INEFFECTIVE TOOLS

  As you will know, sparks can be created by striking two pieces of flint together. However, it is also interesting to note that during the Stone Age people often made tools out of flint. The reason for this is that by striking flint against hard objects it can be made to splinter into sharp edges. Flint knives, axes, and arrowheads have all been found.

  A Ministry archaeologist has controversially contended that Stone Age man also invented flint salad tongs. Other archaeologists have claimed that this is clearly ridiculous as no one has ever found the remains of flint salad tongs.

  However, with even a moment’s thought the reason for this is apparent. Given that striking flint together causes fire, every time a Stone Age man tried to lift a lettuce leaf out of the bowl with the flint salad tongs, both edges of the flint would have struck together, causing it to catch fire. The reason that we have never found Stone Age salad tongs is because they were all thrown away shortly after they were invented. E
ven Stone Age man didn’t like burnt lettuce.

  Interestingly enough, it is due to the creation of flint scissors that Stone Age arts and crafts classes were the only ones that were never considered a bit dull. Because although cutting out construction-paper people shapes may be unexciting, it’s a lot more interesting when they keep catching fire.

  * * *

  9

  LOST AND FOUND

  It turned out to be relatively simple to explain the explosion at the model farm to the headmaster. He had rather easily accepted that it had merely been an accident involving methane gas generated by the pigs. Jack hadn’t even mentioned his involvement with the flint stones. One of the key advantages of being twelve was that everyone assumed you weren’t capable of blowing things up. The truth was that Jack and Trudy were remarkably effective at destroying things in this manner. In the past two weeks Jack and Trudy had blown up a steam dinosaur and a soap factory and had smashed an enormous drilling platform to smithereens.

  Jack and Trudy had asked the headmaster for the rest of the day off. Although it would not normally have been the kind of thing to which he would have agreed, today was not a normal day. And getting rid of two pupils who frequently seemed to be at the center of mayhem and destruction appealed to the headmaster a great deal.

  They had called for a Ministry car and they were now on their way to the headquarters of the Ministry of Strange, Unusual, and Impossible Things. As usual they had invited David along, and as usual he had refused and instead had headed to the library to try and find out once and for all what had happened in the Trojan War.

  As they traveled in the car Jack explained to Trudy about the strange Mr. M and how the explosion had been caused. But there was one part of the story he found himself hesitating to tell her because he was slightly scared of how she might react. He was rolling ideas around his head about how to broach the subject when Trudy created what could only have been considered a conversational opening.