Deep Trouble

by Rob Stevens

  An awed silence descended over the classroom. The arrival of a supply teacher was usually an invitation for the class to mess around without fear of reprisal – but something about Miss Toogood’s controlled manner commanded respect.

  ‘Actually, Archie Hunt and Barney Jones were late today, miss,’ Harvey Newman whined.

  ‘Thank you, Mr . . . ?’

  ‘Newman, miss. Harvey Newman.’

  ‘Where are Messrs Hunt and Jones?’ the teacher demanded.

  Archie and Barney sheepishly raised their hands. Miss Toogood surveyed the boys briefly before addressing Newman. ‘Well, Harvey, I can see you are someone I can rely on to follow the rules to the letter,’ she said warmly. ‘But as far as I can tell, Archie and Barney are here in plenty of time for the class.’

  Archie half turned and grinned over his shoulder. Harvey Newman snarled.

  ‘So this morning we’ll be learning about history,’ Miss Toogood announced.

  The class responded with a weary groan.

  ‘I love the enthusiasm!’ the teacher joked. ‘Why is everyone so down on history lessons?’

  The class fell silent, no one wanting to be the first to answer, and then Harvey Newman shouted out, ‘Cos it’s boring, isn’t it?’

  The response to Newman’s comment was mixed. Some kids gasped while others tittered nervously as they awaited the teacher’s reaction. Miss Toogood milked the tension for a moment, then she smiled. ‘OK, Harvey. Can you explain why it’s so boring?’

  Newman shrugged. His cheeks coloured, then he said, ‘It’s all just old news, isn’t it?’

  ‘I see. Does anybody else have an idea as to why we might find history lessons a little bit dull?’

  Holly Jenkins, a slender girl with braces and pigtails, put her hand up. ‘It’s just really hard for us to, like, get our heads round, like, all those big political meetings and, you know, conferences and stuff?’

  ‘OK.’ Miss Toogood clicked her fingers, her eyes twinkling. ‘I agree it can be hard to see the relevance of events that happened years ago. And I understand that learning about complicated political decision-making processes can seem very confusing. But what I want to demonstrate is that there is no difference between diplomacy at the highest level and what goes on in the classrooms today.’

  ‘Are you saying all the Prime Ministers have to sit through double maths?’ laughed Newman.

  Miss Toogood smiled. ‘Not exactly, Harvey. I suppose the best way of explaining what I mean is by way of analogy. Let’s assume—’

  ‘Sorry?’ Newman exclaimed, an exaggerated expression of surprise on his face. ‘Did you say an allergy? I think I might have an allergy to history if that’s what you mean!’

  Newman cast his eyes around the room. One or two classmates giggled.

  ‘I can see you’re quite the comedian, Harvey.’ Miss Toogood smiled sweetly – then her tone hardened. ‘But if you ever interrupt me or any of your classmates again I will have you cleaning out the toilet block every lunch hour for a month. Is that clear?’

  Newman hung his head and nodded.

  ‘As I was saying,’ Miss Toogood continued, ‘for our analogy let’s assume I am like the United Nations Security Council and you are all individual countries. Now what if I saw the country of, say, Newmania bullying the smaller state of Huntingdon? What options would I have open to me?’

  Archie raised his hand. ‘You might give Newmania a warning.’

  ‘Exactly. Like a teacher telling off a child I would let Newmania know that if it didn’t stop bullying its neighbouring state, then further action would be taken. Can anyone tell me what that action might be?’

  ‘You could stop Newmania trading with other states?’ suggested Brandon Hutt.

  ‘Precisely. In the political world the withdrawal of certain privileges is known as imposing sanctions,’ Miss Toogood replied. ‘It’s the classroom equivalent of handing out detention or litter duty. And if Newmania persisted in misbehaving?’

  ‘As a last resort you’d have the military option,’ suggested Barney.

  ‘Exactly,’ Miss Toogood said with relish, a gleeful glint in her eye. ‘If the sanctions failed to have any impact I’d immediately respond with immense power and ferocity. When my destructive rampage was over, Mr Newman would be physically and mentally crushed and regret the day he ever dreamed of crossing me.’

  Silence engulfed the room for a few seconds, then Archie cleared his throat. ‘I think you mean Newmania, miss,’ he said quietly.

  Unclenching her fists, Miss Toogood turned to Archie and smiled. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You said you’d crush Mr Newman,’ Archie said tentatively. ‘But I think you meant to say, hypothetically, you’d crush the state of Newmania.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course,’ Miss Toogood said softly, hooking her hair behind her ear. ‘Silly me.’

  It had been a long slow week but at four thirty on Friday afternoon Archie and Barney stood outside the front door of 16 Stour Gardens. Archie was wearing jeans and trainers, a red Hollister hoody and a sleeveless blue puffer. Barney was dressed in combats, polo neck, nylon bomber jacket, gloves and beanie hat – all in black.

  Archie paused as he reached for the doorbell and regarded his friend. ‘You do know we’re here just to brief a mission, right?’

  Barney nodded, all business.

  ‘An undercover surveillance operation.’ The corners of Archie’s mouth twitched as he continued. ‘And as far as I know we’re pretty unlikely to end up storming an embassy or anything.’

  Barney’s head turned to Archie like an automaton. ‘Copy that,’ he replied.

  Archie frowned slightly and pressed the doorbell.

  Numerous clunks sounded as the internal bolts on the door were released, then it opened six inches, until the security chain was yanked taut. Gemma peered through the narrow opening, one eyebrow raised, and said, ‘Girls go to college to get more knowledge.’

  ‘Come on, Gem,’ Archie complained, his inadvertent shortening of her name making him blush.

  Gemma sternly repeated her part of the passcode sequence.

  ‘OK, have it your way,’ Archie sighed. ‘Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider.’

  The door closed momentarily, then opened wide. Gemma grinned at Archie and Barney as she gestured them into the house. She looked Barney up and down. ‘I’m loving the outfit, Zulu,’ she enthused. ‘As usual you’re blending right in. What’s in the bag?’

  ‘Operationally essential items.’ Barney patted his rucksack. ‘Notepad, camera, Monster Munch, mobile phone, family pack of Kit Kats.’

  ‘Well at least you won’t starve,’ said Gemma. ‘Are you ready for the brief?’

  Barney smirked. ‘Do mongooses fly south for the winter?’

  Gemma pulled a face. ‘O-K. I’ll take that as a yes.’

  Archie leaned towards Barney and cupped a hand to his mouth. ‘You do know that a mongoose isn’t a bird, don’t you?’

  Barney’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Really? I mean, sure,’ he babbled. ‘It’s a kind of small fox, right? Or a cat?’

  ‘It’s a rodent.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Barney nodded vigorously. ‘A sort of foxy cat-type rodent.’

  Archie smiled and turned to Gemma, ‘You got here early. How was the journey?’

  ‘All right, considering,’ she shrugged. ‘I had to skip double physics, so sitting on the train was actually a bonus. My mum told the school I had a dental appointment.’

  ‘Your parents know you’re an agent?’ Barney asked.

  ‘Er . . . obviously.’ Gemma pulled a face. ‘They had to sign all the papers to say I could do the training and go on missions. Yours must have signed them too, right?’

  ‘Of course.’ Barney frowned seriously, then pursed his lips uncertainly. ‘I’m just not sure they took them that seriously. I’ve got a feeling they thought I’d printed all the forms off the Internet and they signed them just to humour me.’

  ‘That’s so weird,’ Ar
chie commented. ‘Why would they imagine you’re the sort of person who’d fantasise about working for MI6? I mean it’s not like you’re a total James Bond fanatic who’s been obsessed with spy fiction since before he could talk. Oh, wait a minute . . .’ He clicked his fingers. ‘That’s exactly the sort of person you are.’

  ‘So, geekily having played secret agents your whole life is the perfect cover story for being a real agent.’ Gemma smiled. ‘It’s actually brilliant. I’d be impressed if I didn’t know you.’

  Barney shrugged modestly. ‘Understood.’

  ‘OK, let’s go to the Ops Room,’ Gemma suggested. ‘It’s best not to keep IC waiting.’

  The boys followed Gemma down to the fortified basement. Helen Highwater was sitting behind her desk and at her shoulder stood Holden Grey, who was wearing a thick burgundy hoody.

  ‘Good afternoon, Yankee . . . and Zulu.’ Highwater curtly nodded in turn at Archie and Barney, who each nodded back.

  ‘Wassup!’ Holden Grey double-tapped his own chest with his fist, immediately letting out a wheezy cough. It’s the STINKBOMB posse in the home.’

  The three children smiled. ‘I think you mean “in the house”, Mr Grey,’ Archie suggested.

  Helen Highwater cleared her throat. ‘Shall we get down to business then?’

  ‘OK, guys,’ said Grey. ‘Just to reiterate once more – from the moment you go undercover you must stay in character. You will maintain your persona non grata at all times and by that I mean . . . er . . . at all times. Capiche?’

  ‘Capiche,’ Archie replied while his co-agents nodded.

  ‘Your stories have to be absolutely watertight,’ Grey continued. ‘Otherwise they won’t hold water and you’ll be sunk. Not that something that’s full of water would float anyway – unless the volume of the vessel’s walls was greater than the volume of water it contained and it was constructed of a material that was less dense than water. Like polystyrene or indeed any number of poly—’

  ‘I think that’s quite enough of the Archimedes principle for now, thank you, Mr Grey,’ said Highwater sternly. Addressing the agents, she continued, ‘OK, team. As discussed last weekend, tomorrow you will all be running undercover ops at the British Student Games. The purpose of Operation Gumshield is to protect Toby Winchester, the PM’s son, who is competing in the boxing tournament. Firstly, you will achieve this by watching Toby closely. Secondly, and possibly more importantly, you will blend in with the competitors and officials at the event and report any suspicious activity among them. I trust you’ve all studied your undercover identities? I’m going to test you by asking a few simple questions that I want you to answer as your alter ego. I want you all to remain in character until I tell you otherwise.’ Highwater pointed at Gemma.

  ‘Hi, what’s your name?’ she asked pleasantly.

  ‘Vanessa Wallis.’

  ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Just up the road. Stratford.’

  ‘When’s your birthday?’

  ‘Twenty-ninth of January.’

  ‘That must make you a Pisces?’

  ‘Nah – Aquarius.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  Gemma shrugged uninterestedly. ‘I’m with St John’s.’

  ‘The ambulance service?’

  ‘No, the world famous St John’s Acrobatic Troupe.’ Gemma snorted sardonically.

  ‘I’ll have less of your sarcasm if you don’t mind, Agent X-ray,’ Highwater snapped.

  Gemma narrowed her eyes and held her boss’s stare. Who’s Agent X-ray?’ she asked innocently.

  Archie was transfixed by Highwater’s expression. He felt slightly sick with nerves as he waited for her to explode. The muscles in her jaw flexed as she ground her teeth together and then took a long deep breath. It’s very nice to meet you, Vanessa,’ she said coolly. Turning to Barney, Highwater beamed. ‘Hello, Agent Zulu.’

  Barney grinned and said, ‘Hello, IC.’

  ‘You’re supposed to be in character,’ Highwater sighed. ‘Let’s start again. What’s your name?’

  ‘My name is Luke Sharpe,’ Barney recited. ‘I live in Windsor with my parents, a cat, and two fish. I am a journalist on the kids’ magazine Newshound and I am here to cover the British Student Games in an informative and accessible style. My favourite film is Anchorman although I don’t feel it’s an accurate reflection on the world of journalism and when I grow up I’d like to write for the Daily Mail. I’m into music, sci-fi and gaming.’

  Highwater rolled her eyes. ‘Just remember you’re having a conversation, not speed dating. Less is more.’

  ‘Copy that.’

  ‘What’s your cat called?’

  ‘Er . . .’ A look of panic swelled in Barney’s eyes. ‘Mr-um – ginger – tabby – puss?’

  ‘Mr Gingertabbypuss?’ Highwater repeated incredulously.

  ‘Yeah.’ Barney swallowed hard. ‘He’s a cross.’

  ‘Well I think I’d be cross if I was called Mr Gingertabbypuss,’ Highwater drawled. Her mouth curved downward as she considered her next remark. After a few moments she spoke in a whisper. ‘If you are going to be a member of my team it is imperative that you do your homework – do I make myself clear?’

  Barney nodded eagerly.

  ‘It clearly states in your brief that your cat’s name, ironically, is Einstein.’

  ‘Copy that.’

  ‘And stop saying “copy that” – you sound like someone on a SWAT team! You’re supposed to be a journalist.’

  ‘OK,’ Barney agreed uncertainly. ‘Then . . . hold the front page.’

  Highwater folded her arms on her desk and allowed her forehead to drop on to her wrists.

  ‘All you need to remember,’ suggested Holden Grey gently, ‘is to keep everything simple. Don’t volunteer information and don’t say anything contradictory.’

  ‘Better still,’ said Highwater, lifting her head wearily, ‘don’t say anything at all.’ She flicked through some pages on her desk. ‘OK, Yankee,’ she announced. ‘Let’s see how much of your cover you’ve memorised.’

  Suddenly nervous, Archie rubbed his clammy palms on his jeans as he waited for his interrogation to begin.

  ‘Actually, Mr Grey, could you interrogate Yankee for me?’ Highwater sighed, sitting upright and pinching the top of her nose. ‘I can feel a headache coming on.’

  ‘No problematico,’ replied Grey enthusiastically, tugging back the sleeves of his hooded top. Holding a fist out to Archie he said, ‘Hey dude! What’s your name, my man?’

  ‘Hook,’ said Archie, bumping his fist against Grey’s. ‘Daniel Hook.’

  ‘Where’s your hood?’

  ‘I’m from Upminster – Essex.’

  ‘What do you think of the new Black Eyed Peas record? It’s enormously wicked, do you hear me?’

  ‘I’m all over it, man,’ said Archie.

  ‘I can hear you. So is you spectatoring today?’

  Archie shook his head. ‘I’m boxing for the South of England.’

  ‘That’s well cold isn’t it? Which category are you fighting in?’

  ‘Junior light-middle.’

  ‘Me too! I’m on the North of England team.’ Grey held out his fist again and Archie bumped it.

  ‘When’s your birthday, dude?’ Grey continued his questioning.

  ‘April thirtieth.’

  ‘You into the football?’

  ‘I can take it or leave it.’

  ‘What school did you say you go to?’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘I hear Toby Winchester is competing today.’

  ‘Never heard of him.’

  After the quick-fire exchange the room almost hummed with silence. Archie waited for Grey’s next advance, like a fencer waiting for his opponent to attack. But Grey just smiled. ‘Good work, Archie.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Grey.’ Archie grinned but immediately saw the expression of disappointment in the old man’s eyes and knew he had blown his cover.

  �
�Nice try, Yankee.’ said Highwater. ‘But you must, must, must maintain your cover story at all times. Even if you think it’s safe to drop it. Always assume someone can hear you or see you. Is that clear?’

  Archie nodded glumly, feeling frustrated with himself. He knew better than to fall for such a simple trick and he would have to raise his game during Operation Gumshield. Out in the field such a careless mistake could put the lives of his fellow agents, and Toby Winchester, in grave danger.

  Well done, X-ray,’ congratulated Highwater.

  Gemma smiled proudly.

  ‘And Zulu . . .’ Highwater continued, ‘I suggest you consider making Luke Sharpe a mute. Then at least you can’t say anything to incriminate yourself.’

  ‘But then I couldn’t ask any journalistic questions,’ Barney observed, taking his boss seriously.

  ‘Precisely,’ Highwater said, pursing her lips and puffng out her cheeks. ‘Maybe we’ll make you a photo journalist instead. Your brief is to say nothing – photograph everything.’

  ‘I can definitely do that.’ Barney beamed.

  ‘Good, let’s leave it at that.’ Highwater placed her palms on her desk, pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Now there’s one more thing I want to show you before Mr Grey talks you through your specialist equipment.’

  ‘I think being a photographer is a cool cover,’ Archie whispered to his friend. ‘It lens itself really well to covert surveillance.’

  ‘I’ll shoot on sight,’ Barney nodded. ‘And if I see something unusual I’ll put IC in the picture.’

  Archie smiled. ‘It’ll be interesting to see what develops.’

  ‘It’s a lot of pressure though. I hope I don’t snap.’

  ‘Er – I don’t think this is the time for camera jokes,’ Gemma hissed, rolling her eyes. ‘For heaven’s sake just try and focus.’

  Highwater picked up a remote control and one of the many flat-screen monitors lining the walls flickered into life, showing an image of a pretty young woman. She had long flame-coloured hair and milky white skin. Her features were small and her jawline slender. Highwater cleared her throat. ‘Now, if I could ask you all to study the person on the screen?’