Beware the Fisj

by Gordon Korman

  He reached for the doorknob and froze. “201!” he exclaimed suddenly. “Mr. Halibut! M.H.!” He opened the door and dashed down Main Street, still running as he turned onto Oak Road. There it was, Mister Halibut, with a large neon fish bordered by red and green chaser lights on the sign over the door. Red and green. The same code colours as on the M.H. Flying Fish! Yes, he could feel it. This unassuming place must be of great importance to the Fish’s operation. And there was no mistake. The address was clearly marked as 201 Oak Road.

  He opened the glass doors, walked in and stopped in his tracks. Seated at a corner table, his long nose buried in a basket of fish and chips, was the Fish himself — the man from room 14.

  Featherstone’s heart began to pound. He had finally done it, finally penetrated the Fish’s iron curtain. Triumph over the Fish was very close now. He could smell victory!

  His mind began to work furiously. He could not arrest the Fish now, where his agents would probably be close at hand. No, he must be a clever fisherman and lure the intended catch out to the local police station at the corner of Oak and Main.

  Clasping his hands behind his back, Featherstone strolled among the tables, looking around nonchalantly and whistling. His eyes fell on the thin man and he feigned surprise.

  “Oh, hi there,” he said genially. “I’ve noticed we’re staying at the same motel. Do you mind if I join you? My name’s Featherstone.”

  The thin man was taken aback, but managed a friendly smile. “Certainly — sit down, sit down. My name is Hamilton.”

  Featherstone ordered his dinner and the two men chatted politely while eating.

  At last Hamilton stirred his coffee and leaned back in his chair. “Well, I must say that was very good fish.”

  Featherstone was instantly alert. “Fish? Oh, yes, fish. Yes, very good indeed.” His eyes narrowed. “I find myself very fond of fish lately.”

  “Me too,” replied Hamilton. “Fishing is my hobby.”

  “Oh, fishing,” said Featherstone. “Catching fish.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Hamilton.

  The waitress arrived with the two checks.

  “Well, I’ve certainly enjoyed having some company,” said Featherstone heartily. “Why don’t we walk along together?”

  The two men paid their bills and strolled out onto the street, heading towards Main. As they neared the intersection, Featherstone pointed to the police station.

  “Ah,” he said, “a police station. I’ll tell you what. As long as we’re both stuck in this dull town, we ought to go in and study their street map. Maybe we can find something interesting.”

  Hamilton beamed radiantly. “That’s a great idea!” He’s taking the bait, thought Featherstone as the two men stepped inside the building. This is it!

  Once inside, both men suddenly wheeled to face each other and chorused, “I arrest you in the name of the law!”

  There was a bewildered silence, then, “You can’t arrest me!” cried Featherstone. “I’m arresting you! You’re the Fish!”

  “I’m the Fish? You’re the Fish!” shouted Hamilton.

  Featherstone whipped out his identification. “Sergeant Harold P. Featherstone, RCMP, Special Division.”

  Hamilton also produced a badge. “Leon Hamilton, Ontario Provincial Police.”

  “May I help you?” asked the desk sergeant.

  “Stay out of this!” snapped Featherstone. “This is a police matter!” He turned to Hamilton. “You assaulted me in the dump!”

  “I haven’t been near the dump!” Hamilton protested. “You broke into my room!”

  “I had a warrant!” shouted Featherstone. “You — you are so the Fish! I’ve got your code book to prove it!”

  “Code book? That’s not a code book, you jerk! I only bought it to try and identify the fish on TV!”

  “You forced me off the road,” accused Featherstone. “Right when the flying bomb was coming down!”

  “I didn’t force you off the road,” yelled Hamilton. “You drove off. You stopped your car in the middle of the road and I almost hit you!”

  “Well, what about the drive-in?” howled Featherstone.

  “It was a lousy picture!”

  “You stole my pop can when I went to the snack bar!” Featherstone insisted.

  “No, I didn’t!”

  “But you were following me!”

  “Well, of course I was following you!” bellowed Hamilton. “You’re the Fish!”

  “You tried to kill me! Twice!” accused Featherstone.

  “The way you operate, you’re lucky you don’t kill yourself!” Hamilton scoffed.

  “All right, you guys —” protested the desk sergeant.

  “You lured me out on that lonely road and had a bomb launched at me!”

  “I don’t know any more about that bomb than you do!”

  There was a moment of silence as the two men stared at each other in bewildered consternation. Featherstone, his face purple with rage, stood crouched, fists clenched. Hamilton towered over him, his knees bent, ready to spring. Finally Featherstone gingerly eased himself into a chair and held his head. His first big investigation lay in shambles. He had been so sure …

  “You’re not the Fish,” he barely whispered.

  “I’ve been telling you that,” sighed Hamilton, his calm quickly returning. “I thought you were.”

  “Well,” said Featherstone very quietly, “I’m not the Fish and you’re not the Fish.” He stood up and punched the wall. “Then who the heck is?!”

  “Now, listen, you two,” said the desk sergeant, “I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about, but if you don’t pipe down I’m going to throw you both in the cooler.”

  “We’re police officers,” said Hamilton, holding up his badge. Featherstone did likewise.

  “So am I,” sighed the desk sergeant. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me all about it.”

  * * *

  Shortly after midnight Bruno and Boots and six other boys began to carry all of Elmer’s experiments and devices out of Dormitory 2 to be buried in the large sand pit by the road. Wilbur Hackenschleimer and Pete Anderson had the hole already dug when they got there.

  “Dump everything in,” ordered Bruno. “Boots, did you bring the salmon poster?”

  “Yeah,” Boots replied, “and the whole stack of them he had in his dresser.”

  “Good,” said Bruno. “If The Fish ever sees that …”

  Into the hastily dug hole went the Positive Ion Transmission apparatus, some of which had had to be unbolted from the floor of room 201. Wires and cables followed. The entire contents of Elmer’s chemistry lab, including remnants of his infamous cure for the common cold, went next. Bottles shattered and chemicals spilled out, mixing together and seeping into the sand. On top of that they dumped the remains of Operation Flying Fish — the remote control console and the launcher. Several assorted pieces of machinery, a few unidentified full beakers and test tubes, and the many salmon posters topped the tangled, smelly mess.

  “That’s everything,” panted Larry Wilson.

  “Good,” sighed Bruno. “Let’s cover it up.”

  Using shovels and hands, the boys heaped sand on top of Elmer’s work.

  “Poor Elmer,” muttered Boots.

  “At least he won’t get expelled,” Bruno pointed out. “And neither will we.”

  There was a muffled cry and the sand began shifting.

  Larry looked around frantically. “Sidney! Sidney! We’ve buried Sidney!”

  Madly the boys dug in and hauled Sidney Rampulsky out of the pit. Covered in sand, Sidney eyed the others reproachfully.

  “You’re not careful!” Larry raged. “You’re just not careful!”

  The boys heaped up the sand once again and headed quickly and quietly back to their rooms.

  Chapter 12

  Take Cover!

  The next evening, in a corner of the squad room of the Chutney police station, Featherstone and Hamilton pored ov
er a large map of Chutney and the surrounding district. They had been up all night comparing notes on their observations and experiences, and had been working most of the day on the map.

  “Now,” said Hamilton, “we’ve got a black X in every area where there’ve been complaints of fish broadcasts. Let’s see if we can find out where they’re coming from.”

  Both men studied the map intently for a moment.

  “The area is round,” commented Featherstone, to break the monotony.

  “So it is,” agreed Hamilton.

  “As a matter of fact,” added Featherstone, “it’s almost a perfect circle. So —”

  “So the broadcasts have to be coming from the centre of the circle,” finished Hamilton. He laid a long, bony finger on the map. “That would be right here.”

  Featherstone beckoned to the desk sergeant and pointed to the centre of the circle. “What’s located there?”

  The man scratched his head. “Schools,” he replied finally. “Yeah, two boarding schools, right across the road from each other.”

  “Schools,” mused Hamilton. “That’s impossible. Just children.”

  “Yes, definitely two schools,” confirmed the sergeant. “One’s a girls’ finishing school called Scrimmage’s, and the other’s a boys’ school. It’s called Macdonald Hall.”

  “That’s M.H.!” cried Featherstone. “M.H. Flying Fish was written on that bomb! This is what we’ve been looking for! Macdonald Hall!”

  “But a bunch of kids?” protested Hamilton.

  “Kids have teachers,” Featherstone insisted in growing excitement, “and teachers are adults. One of those adults is the Fish!”

  “The perfect cover,” agreed Hamilton slowly. “No one would think to investigate for terrorist activity in a school. This Fish is a clever one.”

  “We don’t know who we’re after, so we’ll have to restrict the whole place,” decided Featherstone. “We’ll need barriers and men. Sergeant, can you help us?”

  “Well,” offered the desk sergeant, “we’ve only got eight men on the Chutney force, but you can get any support you need from the county police.”

  “Good,” said Featherstone. “Tonight we bring in the Fish!”

  * * *

  “What happened?” bawled Elmer Drimsdale, home from his field trip. “Where are all my things?” The room looked empty without all the equipment. The only things left were the plants and the ant colony. “What have you done?”

  “We buried them,” explained Bruno.

  “You what?”

  “Listen, Elmer, you’re lucky we don’t bury you too!” snapped Boots. “It’s all your fault, you and your stupid invention!”

  Elmer just stood there, stunned.

  “You told us it would only broadcast to the screen on your black box!” accused Bruno. “That thing has been beaming my fish jokes and your idiot salmon all over the county!”

  “Remarkable!” breathed Elmer.

  “Yeah, The Fish thought so too,” said Bruno bitterly. “He was pretty sure it was us, but he couldn’t prove it. So he called a big dorm inspection. We had to get rid of your stuff or the three of us would have been expelled!”

  Elmer looked as if he were about to faint. “Expelled! I was almost expelled and I didn’t even know it!” he exclaimed weakly. “You did the right thing! I hope you buried it deep enough!”

  “Time will tell,” said Boots. “And the next high jump.”

  “We passed inspection by the skin of our teeth,” added Bruno. “We had to borrow a rug to cover up the holes in the floor where you bolted down the black box.”

  “So we weren’t caught, then?” asked Elmer in a small, hopeful voice.

  “Hey,” boasted Bruno, “I never get caught.”

  “Still,” said Boots, “the way The Fish looked at us makes me nervous! He knows!”

  “It was an honest mistake,” babbled Elmer. “How was I to know that I would get such range?”

  “No one’s blaming you, Elm,” said Bruno kindly.

  “I am,” snapped Boots feelingly. “You get me into enough trouble. You don’t need any help from Elmer.”

  “I’m a failure,” lamented Elmer despondently. “I wanted so much to help save Macdonald Hall. I’m no good for anything.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” said Bruno, glaring at Boots.

  “That’s just it,” mourned Elmer. “I am an idiot.”

  Boots sighed. “You’re a genius,” he corrected firmly. “You’ve worked harder than anyone else on this project. It’s just that — well, I guess even a genius fouls up once in a while.”

  “And you’re our friend,” said Bruno.

  “And our roommate,” added Boots.

  Elmer brightened. “It’s so good to have friends.” He looked up at the bare wall where his beloved salmon poster had hung. “It’s a good thing I have several more in the dresser.”

  Bruno looked at Boots. “No you don’t,” they chorused.

  “We didn’t get expelled,” sighed Elmer, “but at what cost!”

  * * *

  Seven cars, their headlights out, pulled silently onto the soft shoulder of the highway near Macdonald Hall. Thirty shadowy figures left the cars and gathered in a group for a final briefing.

  “Okay, men,” said Featherstone, “this is it. I want the whole campus surrounded. Everyone is under restriction. No one goes in or out.”

  “What about the kids?” asked a Chutney patrolman.

  “They don’t go in or out either,” said Hamilton. “Who knows how many the Fish has influenced.”

  “So watch them,” cautioned Featherstone. “And remember, we don’t want anyone hurt. When the Fish is cornered he may try to take the kids as hostages.” He cleared his throat and raised his voice so the whole group could hear him. “We’ll give you five minutes to spread out around the perimeter. Then Hamilton and I are going in with Kowalski and Baker.”

  The men stole away in the darkness to take up their assigned positions.

  Featherstone, Hamilton and the two patrolmen got into Hamilton’s unmarked car and turned into the Macdonald Hall driveway. Seeing a light on in the Faculty Building, they stopped the car in front of it and got out.

  Mr. Sturgeon himself came out to greet him. “Good evening,” he said courteously but without enthusiasm. “You gentlemen must be from the land developer’s office. I’ve been told to expect you.”

  “Are you in charge here?” asked Featherstone.

  “Yes, I’m the Headmaster. Sturgeon is my name.”

  “Sturgeon!” exclaimed Featherstone. “That’s a kind of fish, isn’t it?”

  “How clever of you to have noticed,” Mr. Sturgeon remarked, eyeing Featherstone coldly.

  Whipping out his badge, Featherstone announced, “We’ve got you now, Fish!”

  Mr. Sturgeon stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Do you think we don’t know what you’ve been doing? Did you think you could get away with it forever?” Featherstone was basking in the glory of his first capture. “Oh, no! We’ve got you now, Fish! You and your Fish Patrol are finished! The long arm of the law has caught up with you!” He nodded to the taller of the two patrolmen. “Take him, Kowalski.”

  Kowalski stepped forward and swiftly handcuffed himself to Mr. Sturgeon.

  The Headmaster was livid. “What in the world do you think —”

  Hamilton reached into the car and produced an electric megaphone. “Attention!” his voice boomed across the campus. “Macdonald Hall is now under restriction! No one is to enter or leave the grounds! Repeat, no one is allowed to enter or leave!”

  “If you would kindly explain,” Mr. Sturgeon insisted.

  “You’ll get all the explanation you want,” snapped Featherstone, “in front of a judge!”

  “But —”

  The announcement had aroused the boys of Macdonald Hall and a swarm of them, headed by Bruno and Boots, stampeded onto the scene.

  “Look!” blurted Bruno before he
realized that he was shouting loud enough for the police and the Headmaster to hear. “Those guys have busted The Fish!”

  Featherstone turned in horror to Hamilton. “Did you hear that? Even the kids know he’s the Fish! There’s nothing more contemptible than involving children in terrorist acts!” He faced Mr. Sturgeon. “I’m going to see that you’re locked up for five hundred years!”

  Mr. Sturgeon just stood there, shocked beyond words.

  “What’s going on?” asked one of the students.

  “The Fish got busted!”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “They’re taking him away!”

  “I can’t see anything!”

  “Get off my foot!”

  “What did The Fish do?”

  “Probably robbed a bank!”

  “I wonder how long he’ll get?”

  “Yep. That was it. He robbed a bank.”

  “This is all a ridiculous mistake!” insisted Mr. Sturgeon.

  “Yeah, and you made it,” jibed Hamilton with great satisfaction.

  Near the entrance to the driveway the land developer’s new black limousine pulled up and was stopped by three police officers. The developer rolled down his window.

  “What’s going on? I have a business appointment here.”

  “An appointment here, eh?” answered one of the officers. “Get out of the car, sir, and keep your hands where we can see them.”

  “What are you, nuts?”

  “No, sir, not nuts,” returned the policeman. “Just doing our job. Your chauffeur too, please. Both of you get into the first patrol car over there.”

  “Are we being arrested?” demanded the developer in bewilderment.

  “No, sir, just detained. Into the patrol car, please. An officer will take your statement.”

  Hamilton’s voice boomed across the campus again. “Everybody keep calm! Everything is under control! There is no need for alarm!”

  The entire population of Macdonald Hall was milling around in confusion in front of the Faculty Building.

  “Let him go!” bellowed Bruno at a nervous-looking Kowalski. “Whatever it is, he didn’t do it! I can vouch for him!”

  Mr. Sturgeon was still trying to reason with Featherstone. “Officer, if you will just listen to me!”