Deep Trouble

by Rob Stevens

  ‘Man, you’d better be sure of your stuff,’ chuckled Gemma.

  Archie took a deep breath. ‘I couldn’t help noticing that the hems of Mr Grey’s trousers are spattered with muddy water. I know that, as a man with exceptional personal standards, you would never put on muddy trousers in the morning. Which means you must have splashed them some time today.’

  Grey smiled easily. ‘I must have stepped in a puddle on my way here this morning.’

  ‘But it didn’t start raining today until eleven a.m. and we haven’t had any rain before that for a week.’

  ‘So I must have come into work a little later than usual? My badly.’

  ‘But a few moments ago you said that you’d been in the workshop since nine a.m.’ It was Archie’s turn to enjoy an easy smile. ‘If you’d been here since then, your trousers would be bone dry.’

  Barney gasped.

  Highwater sat back and folded her arms. ‘Agent Yankee,’ she said, giving Archie a saccharine smile. ‘If what you are saying is true, then surely I would be aware of Mr Grey’s movements. I have been here all day, as has Agent X-ray.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Archie grinned. ‘You weren’t surprised to see us in the least. In fact you seemed to be expecting us because you were already prepared to brief us on Operation Gumshield. We weren’t scheduled to come here today but you knew that when we realised we were being followed we would evade and shelter, which means we’d come scurrying to this safe house.’

  ‘Agent Zulu?’ Highwater enquired, removing her glasses to hold Barney’s gaze. ‘Do you share Agent Yankee’s conspiracy theory – remembering of course that any false accusation made against a member of Her Majesty’s Secret Service could be construed as treasonous?’

  Barney looked bewildered, like someone trying to work out a brilliant magician’s card trick. Leaning towards Archie he murmured through the corner of his mouth, ‘Just run that bit about the muddy trousers past me again.’

  Cupping his hand around his friend’s ear, Archie whispered an explanation during which Barney’s eyes grew steadily wider like a pair of balloons inflating. When Archie had finished his recap, Barney stared at Holden Grey, then Helen Highwater, his mouth an open circle of disbelief. ‘I don’t believe it!’ he gasped, quickly adding, ‘I mean, er, I concur with Agent Yankee’s assessment, having noticed many of the same inconsistencies myself and reached the same conclusion.’

  ‘I see.’ Helen Highwater sat back in her leather chair and sighed gravely. Pressing her palms together she considered both boys carefully.

  Archie’s legs felt like jelly as he waited for her reaction.

  After a moment Highwater began to applaud. ‘Congratulations,’ she said sternly. ‘You effectively evaded Mr Grey in the field and you identified the suspect using a combination of recollection and lateral thinking.’

  ‘So this was all just a test?’ asked Archie, a feeling of relief flushing through his limbs.

  ‘Yeah.’ Agent X-ray smiled. ‘You were more like lab rats than blind mice.’

  ‘Operation Gumshield is a high profile mission,’ Highwater stated. ‘We can’t afford any slip-ups when the PM’s son is involved. I knew you were ready for field ops but my boss, Huge Ego – I mean Hugh Figo – wanted proof that your surveillance and counter-surveillance skills are up to scratch.’

  ‘Well done, your bad selves,’ added Holden Grey.

  ‘Would we really have been charged with treason if we’d been wrong?’ Archie asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  ‘Goodness me, no!’ Grey chuckled. ‘We just wanted to see if you would have the courage of your guns and stick to your convictions.’

  ‘I expect my STINKBOMB agents to trust their instincts,’ Highwater added. ‘Regardless of the consequences.’

  Archie and Barney nodded.

  ‘OK, before we run through some of the plans for Operation Gumshield, does anyone have any questions?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ Barney mumbled. ‘I was wondering if Mr Grey retrieved our decoy garments from the field and if so could we have them back?’

  ‘If you’re referring to your hoodies, then yes I did,’ said Holden Grey. ‘They’re upstairs – I’ll go and get them now. Be back in a mojo.’

  ‘You’re not cold, are you?’ Archie enquired.

  Barney shook his head. ‘Not cold – hungry. I left my Picnic in my pocket.’

  ‘Can’t believe a pair of dummies gave Mr Grey the slip.’ Gemma said with a smirk. ‘And I don’t mean the ones in the shop.’

  Archie was sitting at the vast table in the vast kitchen of the vast house he lived in with his father, millionaire aviator Richard Hunt. He liked their home – it was pretty cool, with loads of gadgets and close to the coast – but sometimes it felt too big. When his mother was alive the house had always seemed cosier somehow. Without her there was just a bit too much space.

  Archie’s mother had died nearly four years ago, but he still thought about her every day. Often something would trigger a specific memory and, for a heartbeat, it would feel like she was still alive, before the memory disappeared like smoke.

  Archie’s mind drifted, settling on Yuri Villenemi, the evil mastermind responsible for his mother’s death, whom STINKBOMB had been tasked with finding on their maiden mission. Until he had come face to face with Villenemi, Archie had believed his mother was a regular mum, but the arch villain had taken great pleasure in revealing the truth. Lara Hunt had been an undercover MI6 agent. When she’d attempted to track Villenemi down, he had killed her in cold blood before faking his own death.

  Six months ago Villenemi had resurfaced, calling himself Dr Doom, and kidnapped Archie’s father as part of his plot to take over the world. It had been down to Archie, Barney and Gemma to rescue Richard Hunt and thwart Doom’s evil plan, and Archie was incredibly proud that they had succeeded in their first assignment.

  It meant the world to him to be part of STINKBOMB – not just because they were protecting national security but also because he was following in his mother’s footsteps. He was carrying on the work that she had sacrificed her life for. With a twinge of sadness he wondered how she would have felt about his role in STINKBOMB.

  Archie knew he had inherited his mother’s natural flair for languages and her aptitude for martial arts, but he often speculated whether he shared any other characteristics with her. And would she have ever revealed the truth about her job? Archie sighed. The fact that he would never know the answers, and that he would always miss her, was the hardest thing of all.

  ‘Hey, kiddo.’

  Archie’s father ruffled his hair.

  ‘Morning, Dad.’

  Richard Hunt marched briskly into the room and turned the radio down. ‘I don’t know how you can hear yourself think with that racket going on,’ he said, draining his coffee mug and placing it on the table. Dressed in jeans and a light blue sweater he looked strong and lean, the grey flecks at the sides of his thick dark hair the only evidence that he was heading for his fifties.

  ‘What’s happening today?’ he asked, scanning the kitchen.

  Archie looked at his father for a moment, then said, ‘In an exciting change to my usual schedule, today I’m going to school.’

  Spotting what he was after, Richard Hunt grabbed a leather documents folder. ‘I meant what lessons have you got?’

  ‘Well, after lunch I expect Mr Jackson will send us all to sleep with some algebra. But this morning I think Moore the Bore’s going to suck all the life out of us during double history.’

  ‘I thought she taught biology?’

  ‘Oh, she’s multi-talented,’ Archie enthused. ‘She can make either subject as much fun as having a filling.’

  ‘No wonder they say these are the best days of your life.’ Archie’s dad winked.

  ‘Dad,’ Archie groaned. ‘Please don’t say that, it’s so depressing.’

  ‘Nothing exciting happening outside of school?’ Richard Hunt asked. ‘No new EMUs on STINKBOMB’s radar?’


  Archie shrugged. ‘Actually we’ve got an assignment at the weekend.’

  Richard Hunt studied his son, a hint of concern creasing his forehead. ‘What’s the mission?’

  ‘It’s nothing very exciting. We’re going undercover at the British Student Games in London. It’s just a routine surveillance op.’

  Richard Hunt’s eyes narrowed. ‘There’s no such thing as a routine surveillance op,’ he said sternly. ‘You never know when things are going to get dicey. You have to keep your wits about you at all times. Just because you beat the bad guys in your first assignment doesn’t mean you can afford to get cocky on this one.’

  ‘Dad, relax.’ Archie smiled reassuringly. ‘I’m not getting cocky honestly. I’ll be careful – I promise.’

  Archie’s father pursed his lips. ‘Sorry kiddo. I know you will, I just can’t help worrying about you.’

  ‘I know, Dad.’ Archie nodded. ‘But this won’t be as dangerous as the first mission. I mean, for starters, you haven’t got yourself kidnapped this time so I won’t have to risk my life saving your skin.’

  ‘Touché!’ Richard Hunt laughed. ‘Are you ever going to stop reminding me that you saved my life?’

  Archie considered his response for a moment. ‘Not in a million years.’

  ‘Thought not,’ Richard replied. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go – we’re donating two Dragonflies to the Global Disaster Relief Organisation and I’m making the presentation today.’

  Since leaving the Air Force Archie’s father had designed and produced a four-seater jet aircraft that was capable of hovering, as well as performing a vertical take-off and landing. The Dragonfly had proved popular with wealthy businessmen and aid agencies alike.

  Shortly after Archie’s tenth birthday, Richard had begun to let him take the controls of the Dragonfly. Archie had inherited his father’s passion and talent for flying and he had quickly become an accomplished aviator.

  Richard Hunt kissed the top of his son’s forehead and headed for the door. ‘See you later. And don’t have too much fun at school.’

  ‘As if,’ Archie grumbled. As his father opened the door to leave Archie piped up. ‘Dad, do you ever feel like this house is too big?’

  Richard Hunt stopped and turned, observing his son for a moment before smiling kindly. ‘Every day, kiddo,’ he said. ‘Every day.’

  Archie nodded and managed a smile. ‘See you later, Dad.’

  When the door closed Archie stared out of the window at the sea beyond. ‘White male, mid-forties,’ he said aloud, practising his observational recollection. ‘Dark hair, grey at the temples, parted on the left. Pale blue jumper, Paul Smith jeans and Oxford brogues – reddish brown.’ He closed his eyes, trying to recall any other details. ‘Breitling watch on his left wrist, bright red socks and he’s wearing that fancy aftershave he likes.’

  Archie inhaled the familiar scent deeply through his nose and smiled. Then, with a small sigh, he pushed his chair back, grabbed his parka and his rucksack and headed for the door.

  Archie scuffed his shoes along the damp pavement as he made his way to school from the bus stop. The dreary sky matched his mood. He didn’t normally mind school – even quite enjoyed it sometimes – and he couldn’t quite work out why he felt so negative about everything this morning. Things weren’t so bad, he thought, trying to lift his own spirits. There’d be time to chat to Barney at lunch break and he had swimming after school. And there were only five days before the weekend – when STINKBOMB’s second assignment would begin. Archie couldn’t wait!

  Suddenly someone shoved him hard in the back. As Archie stumbled forward he felt his rucksack being yanked off his shoulder and his glasses fell on to the ground. As he crouched to retrieve them a hefty school shoe pressed against his ribs and pushed him backwards. Losing his balance, Archie toppled on to his bottom and sat in a cold puddle, which quickly seeped through his trousers to his underpants.

  ‘Hardly Human, what a surprise,’ Archie said flatly. ‘I would never have thought it was you.’

  ‘What’s my name?’ demanded the sturdy kid standing over Archie.

  ‘You haven’t forgotten again, have you?’ Archie asked innocently, wiping the mud off his spectacles and sliding them on. ‘Check your clothes – I expect your mummy labelled them for you.’

  ‘It’s Harvey Newman,’ the boy snarled.

  ‘Well why were you asking me if you knew all along?’ Archie clambered to his feet.

  Newman shoved Archie in the chest. ‘You called me Hardly Human. I don’t like being called that.’

  ‘Whereas I love being shoved over for no reason,’ Archie mumbled.

  Wearing just his shirt, sleeves rolled up and his tie pulled loose, Newman’s arms were pink and ripe, like shoulders of pork. He snorted like a pig. ‘That was pretty funny,’ he said, looking to his three gormless sidekicks who all grinned and nodded. ‘We just thought we’d surprise you before school.’

  ‘Brilliant.’ Archie smiled sarcastically. ‘Can I have my rucksack back now? Please.’

  ‘Of course you can.’ Newman grinned, unzipping the bag. ‘I just want to show you that it’s all here – just in case you were worrying that we might have nicked something.’

  Archie could sense what Newman was about to do and thought about reminding him what he was capable of. Newman’s stance was pretty narrow, leaving him susceptible to having his feet swept from under him. Archie would follow up the sweep with a jab to the solar plexus, which would wind Newman just enough to deter him from retaliation.

  But Archie remained motionless. His personal code prevented him from using his martial arts skills unless he was in grave personal danger and, although frustrating, having his school books tipped on to the ground was not about to kill him. Besides, his cover as a STINKBOMB agent was strengthened by the fact that everyone at school thought he was a total wimp.

  ‘Please don’t tip my stuff out,’ Archie said plaintively.

  Newman chuckled but, just as he was about to upend the rucksack, he was interrupted by a voice from his right.

  ‘Put the bag down, Newman!’ commanded Barney, approaching slowly with his palms up. ‘Place the bag on the floor and step away.’

  Newman stopped and stared at Barney, narrowing his eyes and smirking nastily.

  ‘This is none of your business, Chubs,’ Newman sneered. ‘Why don’t you waddle off and get yourself a cake or something?’

  ‘It’s OK, Barney,’ Archie whispered. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I’m making it my business,’ Barney retorted, ignoring Archie’s protests. ‘If you bully him, you bully me.’

  Newman screwed his face up. ‘What does that mean?’ he sniffed.

  Calmly Barney said, ‘If you tip Archie’s rucksack out, then you’d better be ready to tip mine out too.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Newman replied. ‘Well why didn’t you say so?’

  ‘Is this your rubber or mine?’ Archie asked.

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ said Barney. ‘Must be yours. Mine had James Bond on it.’

  ‘Cool.’ Archie dropped the rubber into his pencil case, zipped it up and tossed it into his rucksack.

  The two boys were sitting on their heels scrabbling at the contents of both their bags, which Harvey Newman had gleefully emptied on to the wet ground.

  ‘I did suggest you shouldn’t get involved,’ Archie muttered.

  ‘I saw an agent in a tight spot,’ Barney explained. ‘I was just providing back-up.’

  ‘Well you certainly got Newman’s back up,’ Archie giggled. As he reached for his sodden maths textbook he noticed a pair of black suede women’s boots in front of him. When his eyes trailed upward he saw the person in the boots was wearing a black skirt and a cream woollen coat. Her shoulder-length hair was parted in the middle and curled slightly at the ends, softening the frame of her pointed face.

  ‘Are you OK, boys?’ she asked kindly. ‘I think the bell’s about to go.’

  Archie swiftly stood up, smiling
. ‘Everything’s fine, thank you,’ he said. He assumed the lady was a teacher, although he didn’t recognise her.

  ‘What class have you got this morning?’ she asked.

  ‘History with Moore the B— I mean Miss Moore,’ Archie replied, his last word accompanied by the drill of the school bell.

  ‘Oh man, we’re late,’ Barney sighed, standing up. We’re going to get detention for sure.’

  ‘Oh I don’t know about that,’ the woman replied with a faint smile. ‘If you hurry I reckon you’ll be behind your desks before your teacher even gets to the classroom.’

  ‘No chance,’ Archie muttered, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder. ‘Moore is never late.’

  Archie and Barney sprinted through the school gates, pushed open the double entrance doors and jogged the length of B-Block corridor. They paused outside their classroom to hang up their coats and catch their breath before the verbal tirade that was coming their way.

  ‘We are so dead,’ Barney whispered.

  ‘I know,’ Archie replied. ‘It was nice knowing you.’

  Then he pushed open the door to the classroom.

  Everyone in the class stared in silence as Archie and Barney entered. Archie looked instinctively to the seat behind the desk at the front of the class, normally occupied by his teacher. But it was empty. Then he scanned the perimeter of the room before checking the identity of each and every person who sat facing him.

  ‘Where’s Moore?’ Barney asked the class.

  One voice rose above the hubbub of muttered ‘dunnos’.

  ‘You two are so jammy,’ Harvey Newman groaned. ‘I can’t believe Moore the Bore’s not here to see you coming in late.’

  Archie and Barney quickly took their seats, just as the classroom door opened and a woman in her late thirties walked in. She smiled brightly as she draped her cream coat over her chair and placed her grey crocodile skin handbag on the desk.

  ‘Good morning, everyone,’ she announced, hooking her hair behind her ears. ‘My name is Miss Toogood. Unfortunately Miss Moore broke her arm at the weekend and will be off work for a few months. I will be covering her classes and I’m really looking forward to meeting all of you. It’s so nice to see you all sitting down so promptly, ready to learn.’