Jane Blonde: Spies Trouble

by Jill Marshall

  But Janey learned the next morning that she and her mother were due to spend Sunday with Abe Rownigan.

  ‘Mum, do you think it’s a good idea, working with Mr Rownigan? I mean, you seem to be . . . you know . . . moving ahead with things very quickly. And you don’t know much about him at all.’ She didn’t add that she suspected he might be a spy, a vermin-trainer and a kitty-napper.

  Her mother squeezed her hand across the table. ‘Janey,’ she said gently, ‘I know you’re worried. But he’s a very nice man, and the work proposition makes a lot of sense. As for anything else . . . well, we’ll just have to wait and see. It’s been just you and me for a very long time, hasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s not it at all!’ shouted Janey. ‘You don’t understand . . . there are so many things—’

  ‘That’s enough, Janey,’ said Jean, folding her paper away. ‘Let’s try and enjoy the day, shall we?’

  Janey thought about retorting for a moment, but then stood up rapidly. ‘OK. I’ll go and get dressed.’

  ‘Fine,’ said her mum with a grateful smile. ‘Wear something nice.’

  Janey barged through to G-Mamma’s in a flurry. Her SPI:KE was feeding bits of chocolate croissant to Trouble, who snaffled them up eagerly. ‘Just giving him sugar after the shock of last night,’ G-Mamma explained through a mouthful of pastry.

  ‘G-Mamma, I have to get in touch with my dad. This Abe Rownigan thing is scaring me. He must be biding his time before he does something awful to me or Mum.’

  ‘Or me!’ G-Mamma leaped off her silver stool. ‘You’re right, Blonde. You must do something. Any ideas how to get in touch?’

  ‘Well, he sent me a letter when he wanted to make contact. Maybe I could do the same.’

  ‘Too slow.’ G-Mamma spun the computer screen towards her. ‘Try an email.’

  ‘I don’t know his address and, anyway, anyone could read his emails.’ Janey pondered for a moment. ‘But . . . we think he’s downloading stuff from the LipSPICK. Could we put a message on there?’

  ‘Brilliant, Blonde! Type it on the computer and then we can scan it in.’

  A tiny fizz of light crackled through Janey’s brain. ‘A code! Or a puzzle! Right!’ Five minutes later she had typed out a message. G-Mamma read it aloud as it plopped off the printer.

  Hi Uncle Sol, how are you? Can’t stop – rats, sunk in ground here. Mum’s new business. Man, very suspect weather! To tell the truth, to Mum it’s trouble. I’m worried about school, unusual. Room for help, Janey xx.

  The SPI:KE stared at it for long minutes, sucking her cheeks in and out. ‘OK, you win. What the hoody-doody are you talking about?’

  ‘He’ll get it.’ Janey had every confidence in the SPI leader’s code-cracking ability. He was the reason she was so good at puzzles herself. ‘I’ve divided the words wrongly. The clue is “can’t stop”. It tells him to ignore where I’ve put the full stops, well, all the punctuation, actually. So it says:

  ‘“Rats, Sun King round here. Mum’s new business man very suspect. Whether to tell the truth to Mum? It’s Trouble I’m worried about. School – unusual room. For help, Janey.”’

  ‘Blonde, that’s brilliant. Now I’ll just scan it and whizz it across to the LipSPICK. I wonder how he’ll get back to us? We’ll have to keep checking for answers.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m going out with Mum and Abe,’ said Janey. ‘I thought about trying to get out of it, but I’d better keep an eye on them.’

  G-Mamma tutted. ‘That woman’s in serious trouble already if she’s going out with him again! OK. Maybe I’ll try and have a peep around the black Spylab at Sunny Jim’s Swims – have a little day trip of my own.’

  Sighing, Janey crossed back into her room and rifled through her clothes, settling for jeans and a sweatshirt. As she went down the stairs she heard voices at the door. Abe Rownigan was here.

  Janey dropped on to the back seat of Abe’s Daimler. She looked around for suspicious cat hairs but could see nothing more sinister than the latest copy of Business Weekly. As they drove a few miles to the outskirts of town Abe and her mother chatted easily about business plans and opening days and publicity. Janey almost dozed off, and soon they were pulling up outside an old red coach. It looked very familiar.

  ‘This is Sunny Jim’s Swims!’

  Jean nodded. ‘We’re not here to swim, but this diner’s supposed to be great and Abe suggested we come here.’

  I’ll bet he did, thought Janey sourly. She clambered out of the car after her mother. He’d probably try to lure them down to the Sun King’s Spylab any minute . . .

  ‘Here we go – The Coach-Stop Cafe.’ Abe stood back to let Janey and her mother climb aboard the converted red coach. ‘Looks great, doesn’t it? Hope the food’s as good – I’m starving.’

  They were ushered to a shiny leather booth and Jean looked round at the chrome and leather interior as she sat down. ‘It’s like an old fifties diner. Look, they even have a jukebox. Go and put some music on, Janey.’

  ‘Great idea,’ said Abe, handing Janey a couple of pound coins. Janey was convinced he was just trying to get her out of the way, so she shoved the money in as quickly as possible and punched a few buttons randomly. As she returned to the table, her mother was rather coyly asking a question.

  ‘So have you got any children, Abe?’

  ‘A daughter, from my first marriage, but I don’t see much of her these days.’ For a moment Abe looked sad, then he brightened. ‘I bet she’d love this though!’

  He smiled at Janey. ‘What would you do if you were your mum, Janey? You’ve already got a successful growing business, and then this strange man comes and asks you to go into partnership.’

  ‘I’d investigate you very carefully,’ said Janey, ‘and see how much of a strange man you really are.’

  ‘Janey!’ Jean looked horrified.

  But Abe held up a hand. ‘That’s the perfect answer, Jean. Quite right too. You’ve got a sharp brain, Janey. I like people who can think for themselves.’

  From the looks Janey was getting from her mother, she might never be allowed to have another thought again. Abe Rownigan, meanwhile, was looking at her with such a penetrating stare that she had to look away.

  ‘Sorry, Janey,’ he said. ‘I was staring. Just wondering . . . you don’t look much like your mum. You must look like your dad.’

  ‘I never saw him, so I don’t know,’ said Janey carefully. It sounded suspiciously as if Abe was trying to delve into her father’s history, perhaps even find out where he was. ‘He’s dead,’ she added, to ensure he couldn’t ask any more questions.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Abe paused for a long moment, then threw down his napkin. ‘Come on,’ he said impulsively. ‘Let’s do something fun. Janey, what do you fancy doing?’

  A little thrown by the fact that he wasn’t suggesting a trip beneath the toddler’s pool and into the Sun King’s secret lair, Janey pondered her options. Maybe she could find out something valuable if she spent the whole day with Abe. ‘Um . . . maybe a walk on the common?’ she said, feigning enthusiasm.

  ‘Yes!’ yelled Abe. ‘I’ll buy a kite! Two kites! No, three – one each!’

  They got in that evening after a long day. Janey had had to act pleased for much of it so she wouldn’t give anything away. But she had to admit, Abe’s pretend personality was pretty nice. Her mum was in real trouble. When Abe dropped them off, Jean Brown stood for quite a while staring at the closed door while Janey busied herself in the kitchen.

  ‘There you go, Mum.’ Janey handed her mother a cup of tea. ‘Just going to pack my school bag for tomorrow.’

  ‘Thanks, Janey. What a lovely end to . . . well, a lovely day.’

  Janey smiled awkwardly and ran upstairs and across to G-Mamma’s Spylab. ‘Well, that was interest— Halos! What are you doing here?’ Janey looked at the three spies grouped around G-Mamma’s computer.

  ‘Just wishing you were here, Blonde,’ said Mrs Halliday. ‘G-Mamma told us about this mess
age you’ve received from Solomon, but the three of us between us can’t work it out’

  ‘Yes, good news, Blondette. Solly Lolly sent you an email.’ G-Mamma pointed to the screen.

  Janey sprang towards the computer. ‘My dear Janey, can’t stop either!’ she read aloud. ‘All change – drat. Keep quiet – moth! Er, not to worry. How’s school? Room here close by. Miss you, new guy! You can say that again! Got to get back – Secret! Love, U. Solomon.’

  ‘Well, we could all read that, Blonde,’ said Alfie. ‘But what does it mean?’

  ‘I’m not sure of all of it, but it’s something like: “All change – drat.” I think that means he knows we have an enemy – the rats. Then, “Keep quiet. Mother not to worry. How’s school room? Here close by, miss you. New guy, you can . . . you can say that again? Got to get secret back. Love, Uncle Sol.” Or “Love You, Sol.”’

  ‘“You can say that again”?’ said G-Mamma, peering at the screen as if the words were in Hebrew. ‘Say what again?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Janey looked again at the message. ‘New guy. New guy. New guy. Oh, I don’t know what it means. Well at least he’s close by! How close do you think he is?’

  ‘Not close enough,’ said G-Mamma suddenly. ‘Look what I spy with my little eye. I don’t believe it!’

  ‘What?’ said everyone together.

  G-Mamma pointed to a large television screen, like an oversized SPIV. The picture on it showed Janey’s stairs. And out of the darkness at the top, heading downstairs towards the kitchen, with Jean Brown in their sights, was a five-strong group of snarling water rats.

  jean gets mean

  ‘Those things are indestructible!’ Alfie shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘Look, I’ve got a theory,’ said Janey. ‘You know the Sun King has a secret of his own – the one my dad wants to get back? Well, I think I know what it is. It’s that these rats have got nine lives, like a cat. I know it sounds crazy – but right now I’ve got to help Mum!’

  While the others took the spiral staircase she scuttled through the tunnel into her bedroom and looked around for a weapon. An idea came to her. Opening her box of SPI-buys, Janey grabbed the bottle of SPIT. She might be able to use it to blind them temporarily while she rescued her mum.

  She flew down the stairs just in time to hear her mum crying, ‘Oh! Oh, get out, you . . .’

  G-Mamma heaved the Browns’ front door off its hinges just as Janey reached the bottom of the stairs, and the SPIs and Spylets rushed down the hall towards the sounds of swatting in the kitchen. Jean Brown was standing on the table, batting at the marauding water rats with a rolled-up newspaper.

  ‘What are these . . . these vermin? Euch! Clear off out of my kitchen!’ Jean swiped at one with the paper while delivering an effective karate chop to the neck of the other. She looked surprised for a moment, then carried on duelling with her impromptu sword.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Brown, how dreadful!’ shouted Mrs Halliday. ‘Thank goodness we were calling round.’ She picked up a large pan and up-ended it deftly over the nearest rat. There was a howl of rage, and then the pan shuffled around the room until the headmistress put a foot on it.

  Alfie grabbed another rat by the tail, swung it round his head and let go. It sailed upwards and landed on the light like a strange fur lampshade, then fell to the floor, singed by the heat of the light bulb.

  ‘Got you, little nasty ratty! Ha!’ G-Mamma hoofed it across the room and turned to pull another one off Jean’s leg. Jean was holding her own quite admirably, however, kicking and chopping like a karate expert as the two remaining creatures surged around her feet.

  Suddenly Janey realized someone was missing from the room. ‘Mum, was Trouble in here?’

  ‘Up there,’ Jean Brown pointed, swiping vigorously around her knees. ‘Came in . . . and . . . vomited chocolate sick . . . all over my cupboard.’

  ‘So he’s not here now! Trouble isn’t here!’ shouted Janey. Suddenly all the rats froze, mid-bite.

  ‘No, I chucked him outside,’ said Janey’s mum, pointing to the open door with a look of bewilderment.

  And with that the water rats took off across the kitchen and broke loose into the garden, all apart from the one that was still trapped in the pan beneath Mrs Halliday’s foot.

  ‘Thank you!’ said Jean, climbing down from the table with Janey’s help. ‘What a bizarre thing to happen! Thank goodness you were all here. Er, why were you all here?’

  Mrs Halliday patted her hair back into place. ‘Alfie and I were just passing. Janey needed to . . . um . . . borrow a book from us.’

  ‘And I heard the screams and just came running! In case it was Janey,’ said G-Mamma, looking guiltily at the little pyramid of brown cat-sick.

  ‘Stupid me!’ Alfie slapped his forehead dramatically. ‘I left the book in the car. Why don’t you come and get it, Janey? If you’re all right now, Mrs Brown.’

  Janey’s mother brushed down her skirt, inspecting her legs for teeth-marks. ‘Well, amazingly, I’m fine. I don’t know where those self-defence moves came from – television, I suppose. In any case, they seemed to do the trick.’

  ‘Gosh, yes!’ said G-Mamma, round-eyed. ‘Anyone would think you used to be a spy, or something!’

  Janey nudged her SPI:KE hard, and signalled to Alfie to grab the rat-filled pan. ‘We’ll get rid of this last one, Mum. Won’t be a moment.’

  Outside in the dark, they huddled around the Hallidays’ old estate car. ‘What are we going to do with it?’ said Alfie, prodding at the water rat with a tentative finger. It didn’t even retaliate.

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Janey, squirting SPIT over the animal’s face. The rat sneezed and looked back at her with bleary eyes. She addressed it firmly. ‘You all understood what my mum said about Trouble being outside, didn’t you?’

  The rat dropped its chin. ‘I think that’s a yes,’ explained Janey to the others. ‘You understand what I’m saying?’ This time the rat nodded. ‘You want Trouble, don’t you?’ A hasty nod. ‘Do you want to kill Trouble?’

  This time the rat shook its head.

  ‘You want to do more experiments on him. Why?’

  Unlike a human under the influence of truth serum, the water rat didn’t open its mouth and start gushing the truth at them, but it did do something almost as strange – it climbed out of the pan, squatted down on its hind legs and bounded around the boot of the car.

  ‘It’s having a fit!’ yelled G-Mamma. ‘Water-ratty mayhem – squash the thing!’

  ‘No,’ said Janey. ‘It’s deliberate. It’s jumping like a . . . like a frog.’

  As the last word was spoken, the rat turned to Janey and nodded madly.

  Janey looked at G-Mamma. ‘It’s what the Sun King said. They think Trouble was a frog. They want to know more about Sol’s secret!’ she whispered.

  ‘But how on earth do they know about that?’

  ‘No idea, unless . . .’ Janey tried to think. Something was nudging away at her with urgent insistence. Not only was there the puzzle of how the rats knew Solomon’s secret, but also something important was escaping her. It was to do with her dad’s message too. And suddenly, with a surge of power that made her gasp, it came to her. ‘You’re not rats at all, are you? You’re . . . you’re humans?’

  With a malevolent gleam in its eye, the rat nodded again.

  ‘Humans turned into water rats. Only one person could have made that happen . . .’

  And while they were all looking at each other, dumbstruck, the rat slunk to the edge of the car, slithered to the ground and raced away down the gutter.

  ‘They’re humans. Could be spies,’ said Janey in hushed tones, unable to move as the shock sank in. ‘Solomon used the Crystal Clarification Process on them, and I think he’d only do that to evil spies. So now they want the secret of how to turn back. They need to know the reversal process. And for some reason, they think Trouble is the answer.’

  project painful

  Monday passed so
slowly that it made Janey’s skin prickle. With so much to think about, she couldn’t concentrate on schoolwork. Who were the rats? What had made her father turn them from humans into animals? And why were they so convinced that Trouble had the information they needed?

  It had all rolled around in her mind so much that Janey had a throbbing headache when project time came around. She smiled wanly at Paulette as they gathered together with Alfie around a library table. Paulette beamed back.

  ‘I ’ave been very busy. ’Ere is ze result of my survey. I worked on it all weekend.’ Paulette threw a sheaf of papers on to the table, making both Alfie and Janey feel empty-handed and a little guilty.

  Janey looked at the name on the presentation – Paulette Soleil. ‘So that’s how you spell your name. Mr Saunders said it was Solay.’

  ‘Mr Saunders does not know French very well zen, I sink. Shall I put your name on it too, Alfie? Oh, don’t worry if you did nussing,’ Paulette said, seeing their faces. ‘I was just bored because I ’ave no friends after you left on Saturday, and Maman was away all weekend.’ She looked helplessly at Alfie.

  ‘Mmm . . . maybe . . . maybe you could come round to my house next weekend,’ he said eventually, squirming a little on his chair and trying not to catch Janey’s eye.

  ‘Oh, Alfie, ’ow kind! I would love to.’

  Janey struggled to join in. ‘Was your mum on an assignment?’

  Paulette laughed. ‘Well, yes, but not ze modelling kind. You see, Maman is also a brilliant businesswoman.’

  ‘So’s mine,’ said Janey proudly.

  ‘Oh no, it is not ze same. She is very tied up with somesing at ze moment, and she is very, very brilliant.’

  ‘Well, my mum’s not exactly stupid!’ Janey could hardly believe it. She couldn’t stay there with the girl simpering all over Alfie and slighting her mother. ‘I’m going.’