Jane Blonde: Spylet on Ice

by Jill Marshall

  Jill Marshall moved from the United Kingdom to New Zealand, along with her small daughter and her even smaller mad dog. Her childhood ambition was to become an author, so in 2001 Jill gave up her career at a huge international company to concentrate on writing for children. When not working, writing and being a mum, Jill plays guitar, takes singing lessons and is learning to play the drum kit she has set up in the garage. One day she might even sing in a band again . . .

  Look out for the fifth book in the Jane Blonde series:

  Jane Blonde, Goldenspy

  visit jane's spytacular website www.meetjaneblonde.com

  Also by Jill Marshall

  Jane Blonde, Sensational Spylet*

  Jane Blonde Spies Trouble

  Jane Blonde, Twice the Spylet

  Look out for

  Jane Blonde, Goldenspy

  * also available in audio

  MACMILLAN CHILDREN’S BOOKS

  First published 2007 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  This electronic edition published 2007 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited

  20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR

  Basingstoke and Oxford

  Associated companies throughout the world

  www.panmacmillan.com

  ISBN 978-0-330-47096-4 in Adobe Reader format

  ISBN 978-0-330-47097-1 in Adobe Digital Editions format

  ISBN 978-0-330-47098-8 in Microsoft Reader format

  ISBN 978-0-330-47099-5 in Mobipocket format

  Copyright © Jill Marshall 2007

  The right of Jill Marshall to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Visit www.panmacmillan.com to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases.

  Thanks to Glenys, Rachel and Talya, who often know better than I do what I’m thinking, and to Angie for getting me out and about in nz. Special thanks to mum and dad for cooking, cleaning, child-minding, gardening and general dIY (did I miss anything?) during the writing of this book. We should do it more often! And with apologies for being confusing last time, thanks to emma bower and molly Codyre for being Jb fans, and having smiley faces at the crossing every morning . . .

  For Kelly and Jayne, for being there (both mentally and in the Jimmy T) from the very beginning. miss you guys!

  Contents

  1

  scan the plan

  2

  icy invitations

  3

  spicamp spirit

  4

  satispies and spyroscopes

  5

  tumble-tubes

  6

  titian ambition

  7

  snowdome

  8

  blonde to the rescue

  9

  icebergs, spicebergs

  10

  sol’s lols revisited

  11

  out in the cold

  12

  woe for worms

  13

  poles and penguins

  14

  zinc or zwim

  15

  prawn cocktail

  16

  sons and saviours

  17

  clarification

  18

  alfie and ralfie

  19

  melting monsters

  20

  sick squid

  21

  tunnel of terror

  22

  spud nik in space

  23

  abe’s babes

  scan the plan

  Janey Brown awoke the instant she heard the parcel thump on to the floor. She flicked her mousey hair from her eyes and leaped out of bed. Thumping parcels usually meant one thing, and one thing only – a message from her father. Of course there was the odd disappointment when the package actually turned out to be something from one of her mum’s catalogues, but Janey now had enough of an instinct for this kind of thing to guess when something was afoot. This was one of those moments, she was sure.

  It was only a few months since plain Janey Brown had discovered that she was actually Jane Blonde, Sensational Spylet, but in that time she had truly grown into the role. Her gadgets (‘SPI-buys’, to Blonde and her spy friends) usually got her out of trouble – apart from when they flung her straight into it. Spy friends from her father’s organization, SPI – Solomon’s Polificational Investigations – had formed a tight-knit group around her: there was G-Mamma, her vibrant and rather unusual mentor; the Halos, headteacher Mrs Halliday and her son (and Janey’s best friend) Alfie; Trouble the Spycat; Maddy the spy sheep; and recently Bert, Australian ex-sheep farmer turned spy recruit.

  And the very, very best revelation of all: that her father was not dead as she had believed for all her pre-spying days, but was super-SPI Boz ‘Brilliance’ Brown, head of SPI and able to change his identity by means of his own miraculous scientific discoveries. Janey never knew whether he would be Boz or his alter ego Solomon Brown or businessman extraordinaire Abe Rownigan. What Janey did know, however, was that whenever her dad sent her a parcel, it was bound to have a secret, spy purpose.

  She raced down the stairs in her pyjamas, focusing on the doormat. Sure enough, there was a flattish cardboard box, just about the right size to have squeezed through the letter box. It was addressed to Janey Brown, in a logoed envelope from the Sol’s Lols ice-lolly factory in Scotland. Sol’s Lols was another of the businesses her father operated to disguise his spying activities, along with Abe ’n’ Jean’s Clean Machines, which he ran with her mother. The smiley round face of Sol the lolly-maker beamed at her above the words: ‘Be sure to shop for Sol’s Lols!’

  Janey’s mum appeared from the kitchen, holding a cup of tea. ‘I thought that would probably be for you – seeing as you’re the only one who ever gets any interesting parcels.’

  Jean Brown raised an eyebrow at her daughter, and Janey suddenly saw in her the super-SPI that she used to be. Recently Gina Bellarina had returned to her former glory for a few brief moments and fought alongside the husband she had believed to be dead. But any memory of that, and of all other spy-related events, had been completely wiped from Gina’s brain, and she had gone back to being Jean Brown of the Clean Jean Cleaning Company and of Abe ’n’ Jean’s Clean Machines.

  ‘It’s from . . . Uncle Sol, I think,’ said Janey, parting the gum around the edges carefully. She never knew whether the message would be contained within the package, or would be part of the envelope itself. A solid glass photo frame slid out on to her bare toe. ‘Ow! That’s cold! I hope I haven’t broken it.’

  She picked up the frame anxiously. ‘Oh, it’s a penguin,’ she said in surprise.

  Jean Brown peered over her shoulder. ‘He always sends you such odd gifts. Why on earth would you want a picture of a penguin? Maybe we could take it out and use the frame for something useful.’

  She reached out to take the photograph from her daughter, but Janey clutched it to her chest. ‘No! No, I really like penguins. We’ve been, um, stud
ying them at school, so this is great.’

  Her mother cocked her head quizzically, just as someone knocked at the door. Glad of the distraction, Janey flung it open to find her friend and fellow Spylet, Alfie Halliday, clutching a very familiar-looking brown package.

  ‘Snap,’ he said, shaking the envelope so that an identical glass frame slid out on to his outstretched hand. Suddenly he noticed Mrs Brown standing behind Janey and blushed to the roots of his chestnut hair. How would they explain their way out of this one? ‘Err, morning, Mrs B. Off to work soon?’

  ‘It’s Saturday,’ said Jean Brown. ‘Even cleaners get a day off, you know. Now, isn’t that strange? Janey’s received exactly the same parcel from her uncle. Do you know Solomon Brown too?’

  ‘I . . . no. No, I don’t. But I . . . buy a lot of lollies. Love them. Favourite thing,’ muttered Alfie.

  Janey jumped in to help him out. ‘I expect they’ve got your name on a database somewhere from . . . from . . .’

  ‘. . . that competition I did.’ Alfie nodded enthusiastically. ‘S’right. Win a year’s worth of ice lollies.’

  ‘So Uncle Sol must have sent this picture to lots of people,’ said Janey. ‘Not just me.’

  Jean Brown looked from one to the other of them, eyes narrowed over her tea cup as they both smiled brightly at her. ‘Well, it sounds like something he would do,’ she said eventually. ‘Marketing, I suppose. It’s all about sales, isn’t it? It even says so on the envelope. I’m sorry, Janey.’ She put an arm around Janey’s shoulders. ‘I though this time he might have sent you something special, just for you. Not just some freebie to make you buy his products.’

  But Janey knew that she had been sent something extremely special. ‘I don’t mind,’ she said, popping the package into her bag that was propped against the banister. ‘He’s probably got some special offer on or something. Alfie, maybe we should go to the supermarket and find out?’

  Alfie shrugged, looking a little annoyed that Janey seemed to have worked something out before him. This was often the case. ‘I’ve got an hour before football,’ he said grudgingly.

  ‘Great!’ Janey went to step out of the door, but as she did so her mum grabbed her arm.

  ‘Two things, darling. One, you’re still in your pyjamas. And two, if you’re going shopping, you could get a few bits and pieces for me.’ She fished in her purse. ‘Some Brie, crackers and grapes, and some tortilla chips and dip. I think that should do it.’

  ‘OK,’ said Janey, bewildered. It didn’t sound like their usual Saturday tea, but maybe her mum had got so sick of cooking (as she did it so badly) that she’d decided on cold food only in future.

  ‘Fifty-six minutes until football.’ Alfie pointed at his watch, and within moments Janey was back downstairs in jeans, T-shirt and cardigan.

  They cycled to the supermarket on Alfie’s SPI-cycle, Janey sitting on the seat clutching both packages, and Alfie standing on the pedals to propel them along. They went on a strange, convoluted route through alleys and backstreets to avoid being seen by any non-spies. The SPI-cycle stayed proudly upright as Alfie spun them around corners, along pavements, and over the odd fence – straight up one side and just as straight down the other. Reaching Pick-and-Save in only moments, they headed for the aisle containing Frozen Confectionery.

  ‘Wall’s, own-brand, Viennettas . . . where is the Sol’s Lols stuff?’ said Alfie, striding impatiently along the row. ‘Why can’t he just pick up the phone and give us a message the normal way?’

  ‘Because then we wouldn’t be Spylets,’ said Janey, with that special thrill that went through her whenever she remembered she was not just Janey Brown, schoolgirl and dutiful daughter, but also Jane Blonde, ace spy-in-training. ‘Here they are. Look for one with a penguin on it.’

  Resting the packages on top of the other ice creams, Janey and Alfie leaned over the freezer and sifted through the Sol’s Lols products. Within moments their breath felt as though it were sticking to their cheeks, and their hands were aching with cold.

  ‘Wish I had my Boy-battler on,’ said Alfie, referring to the super-charged glove he wore when he went through the Wower and turned into Spylet Al Halo. The spy shower transformed anyone within it, adding gadgets and gizmos and, occasionally, mission-appropriate clothing. Janey wished for her Girl-gauntlet too. ‘My fingers are dropping off,’ moaned Alfie. ‘Look, do you seriously think he’s planted a message in an ice lolly in the local Pick-and-Save? Anyone could pick it up and walk off with it.’

  Janey paused, rubbing her hands together. ‘That’s a good point. Some toddler could be eating the information right now. He wouldn’t risk it. So what else could it be?’

  A cross-faced supermarket worker was bearing down on them. ‘What are you doing in there? It’ll take me ages to put them all back in the right boxes! Just choose one and clear off.’

  ‘Actually, we don’t want one now,’ said Janey. ‘Sorry.’

  Both Spylets made some half-hearted attempts to smooth over the stirred-up lolly section, then picked up their packages and ran. Janey skidded to a halt next to the cheese. ‘I’d better get this stuff for my mum first, and then we’ll try something else.’

  ‘I don’t have time,’ said Alfie. ‘Football’s in quarter of an hour.’

  ‘Well, what’s more important?’ said Janey impatiently, but she knew what the answer would be. While they were on a mission, Alfie was a million per cent dedicated. Right now, however, when they weren’t getting very far, she guessed that the footy pitch was looking very attractive. ‘Oh, OK. I’ll walk home.’

  Janey wandered listlessly round the supermarket, picking up the items on her shopping list. The morning wasn’t turning out to be quite as exciting or satisfactory as she’d imagined. Furthermore, the package from Uncle Sol had become freezing cold from being placed on top of the lollies, so cold it was actually burning her skin through her T-shirt. She stopped and tipped it into the basket of cheese and crackers.

  As the frame slid out of the packaging slightly, she looked again at the penguin. Maybe she should be looking elsewhere. Penguin biscuits? Or fish that penguins might eat? It was a bit of a puzzle, and she was normally so good at those. But then she looked more closely at the space above the penguin’s head. Etched into the glass was a little series of upright lines, like a broken fence, with a row of tiny numbers underneath. She’d seen one before, she was sure of it. Something to do with maths at school? No. Closer to home. A series of bars. A run of numbers that could be a code. Now she’d thought it through, it was completely obvious. ‘Those things they put on tins for scanning. A bar code!’ said Janey. How had she failed to notice it before?

  She had everything she needed, so Janey raced to the checkout and waited anxiously in the queue, hopping from one foot to the other. At last it was her turn, and she turned the basket upside down on to the conveyor belt, holding the penguin photo under her cardigan so it couldn’t be seen.

  ‘That’s fifteen seventy-five,’ said the till operator.

  Perfect. Dipping into her pocket, Janey pulled out a couple of notes and a handful of coins and flung them towards the lady behind the till. As she’d hoped, a couple of the coins catapulted across the other side of the conveyor belt and disappeared down the side of the till operator’s seat. Tutting loudly, the woman clambered down off the chair and scrabbled on the ground for the money.

  She only had a split second. Opening up her cardigan, Janey swept her arm in front of the scanner. Nothing. She did it again, wondering what the man behind her in the queue would think of her flapping her purple-clad arm around like a bat-wing. Still nothing. The woman was straightening up, turning around, and Janey had no time to lose. Grabbing the edge of the photo frame with her left hand, she located the bar code and aimed it straight at the front of the scanner. There was a faint beep, and Janey caught her breath as she spotted writing and images filling the small glass panel in the centre of the photo frame.

  ‘School project,’ she said to the man b
ehind her, then shoved the frame firmly beneath her cardigan as she picked up her bag of shopping. Wishing she was wearing her Fleet-feet, she sprinted for home, or rather for the home next door to her own. G-Mamma’s Spylab was what she needed now.

  icy invitations

  ‘Have you ever even heard of SPIcamp?’ said Janey excitedly.

  G-Mamma shook her head as Janey stared, fascinated, at the images from the glass photo frame now projected on to the front of G-Mamma’s enormous white fridge. Several spies-in-training were Fleet-footing around an assault course, using all sorts of SPI-buys to fight off the other team and be first to the finish line. There were Girl-gauntlets and Boy-battlers, SuSPInders (a retractable long rope with a strong winch), SPIders, which looked like bubblegum but were actually SPI Direct Energy Replenishment devices, able to supply oxygen under water, and a couple Janey had never seen before. It looked fun – like Laserquest, only with real spy weapons. Above the image sat a couple of lines of flamboyant fuchsia writing:

  Congratulations on decoding your personal invitation to SPIcamp. Your SPI:KE will receive a LipSPICK with details. See you soon!

  ‘Did you do this when you were a Spylet?’ Janey asked her own SPI:KE – her SPI Kid Educator.

  ‘No way, Blonday.’ G-Mamma shrugged. ‘SPIcamp is a new thing. Your dad must have just introduced it – maybe as a way to get closer to you.’

  Janey smiled as a small glow ignited within her and she looked again at the moving images. She had now met up with her father on several missions; it wouldn’t altogether surprise her if what G-Mamma said was true. And she loved being able to support him – to step into the Wower, transform herself from ordinary schoolgirl Janey Brown and help her father fight off evil baddies.