‘Thank you,’ he said, stepping towards the trees. ‘I must go now, but GM has your next instructions.’
Janey glanced at her SPI:KE who held up a piece of paper on which she’d scribbled some notes.
‘You’re welcome, but … oh,’ she said.
He had already disappeared, lost in the darkness.
Chapter 3 – Helmet Head
‘Gideon says we’ll have to find one of the boys on his list. We need his special talent to collect the first object.’
G-Mamma handed her a Google print-out, and Janey snapped back into the present.
It was a grainy photo of a strange-looking guitar, with an onion-like body and a fretboard that was almost as long as the man playing it. ‘A sitar,’ she read aloud. ‘This is the object? It’s huge. How on earth are we going to get that out from under anyone’s nose?’
G-Mamma shook her head. ‘Not the sitar. The ring that the sitar-player is wearing,’ she said, just a little jealously. ‘Some enormous stone from India. And it’s more “under earth” than “on earth”,’ she said, keeping a wary eye on the lights now starting to shut off in Janey’s house. ‘Apparently it’s in an underground bank vault.’
This was mad. Mad and dangerous and not at all the kind of mission that Janey was used to.
But she had to admit it: she was hooked.
‘So which one of the team can help us with that?’ she asked, and G-Mamma grinned triumphantly.
‘Jack Bootle-Cadogan. I’ve got his address here.’
‘You just wanted to keep the new spy stuff, didn’t you?’
‘No, no, of course not,’ said G-Mamma, but she didn’t see that Trouble was staring hypnotically at Janey, nodding his furry striped head.
Just then, the light in Janey’s hallway dimmed – a sure sign that her parents were on their way upstairs.
‘I left my lights on!’ hissed Janey with a start. ‘They’ll think I’m still awake and check in on me.’
‘Go, go, go!’ howled G-Mamma. She leaned out of the window as Janey sprinted for her front door. ‘Then come, come, come straight back!’
Janey gave her a thumbs up, shouldered G-Mamma’s front door open and hurtled up the SPIral staircase. In milli-seconds she had flung herself feet first across the Spylab, grabbing the nearest object – a chocolate muffin - as she slithered along on her tracksuit bottoms. With long-forgotten precision, Janey wellied the muffin at the fireplace; at just the right moment, it hit the control button and the panel slid upwards. Janey slipped beneath it, slammed her hand on the button on her side of the fireplace to close it, and in the same smooth movement, flipped herself onto her bed.
She was just pulling up the duvet when her mother popped her head around the door. ‘Night, darling. Shall I turn off your light?’
‘Oh, yes please, Mum. I must have nodded off!’ She grinned dozily, and blew her mum a kiss.
‘Sleepyhead,’ said her mother. ‘It must be all that chemistry homework.’
‘Yes, I worked really hard on it.’ Wow. There she was, lying to her parents again, and hardly having to even think about it. Everything truly was turning brilliantly normal. ‘Night, Mum.’
Moments later, she was back in the street where the van was idling. Through the windscreen, G-Mamma’s face bore the vacant and slightly star-struck expression that betokened an upcoming rap – or maybe she’d switched to songs.
‘Listen to this!’ she barked as soon as Janey stepped back into the van.
Yep, it was song-time. Janey decided to head her off quickly. ‘Are we going to find this Jack person now? It’s nearly midnight.’
G-Mamma shone the torch-taser, now minus the Vox-pop, on the back of her hand. Instantly, invisible coordinates lit up in neon. ‘It’s a blacklight,’ she explained, ‘showing what looks like a Hampshire postcode in my Perfect Poppy red lip gloss. It shouldn’t take us too long. Then a quick Wower afterwards and you’ll be ready for brekkie and Alfie and schoolie in no time.’
Janey shrugged. ‘I was just wondering if we should Fleet-Feet over there. Or use the SATISPI? It’s been a long time, but I’m sure it won’t mix our cells up too much.’ Until they’d got used to it and it had some work done it, the SATISPI had created some very interesting people-mixtures as it flung their cells about the galaxy.
‘Oh, that’s my spy girl.’ G-Mamma couldn’t have been prouder if she’d been Janey’s mother on the first day of school. ‘Mad, bad and beautifully blonde.’
Janey ran her spare hand over her hair, still beige-with-yellow-bits. ‘Not yet. We didn’t Wow up.’
‘Never mind. Let’s see how the land lies when we get there. Like I said, Blonde, the other team members may not even be spies – if we turn up all suited and booted we might scare them off.’
Before Janey could argue that her spysuit made her feel powerful whether there were other spies around or not, G-Mamma put her foot down. ‘Don’t worry about speed cameras!’ she cried as they accelerated to 150 miles per hour. ‘Gideon’s had an Invisibubble shield installed around the Octobus.’
‘How has he done that? He barely looks old enough to buy a car, let alone bunches of spy-buys.’
G-Mamma shrugged happily. ‘Maybe he’s older than he looks. Maybe he’s got wealthy parents. Maybe I just don’t care!’
Janey grinned. It was hard to disagree with that when they were having the most fun they’d had for ages.
They rocketed for miles along the motorway and across a number of fields at warp speed, only slowing as a vast stone wall appeared in the distance. G-Mamma’s eyes suddenly became very round, flicking desperately left and right to find a way through.
On an impulse, Janey climbed over the seat, wriggled her way into the back of the van, and quickly identified which of the instruments was a satellite-driven camera system with GPS.
‘Errr, satellite!’ she shouted optimistically.
It was enough; the panel above her head swivelled instantly, switching the majority of the squid onto the ceiling so that the antenna stood upright on the van’s roof, sandwiched between the remaining ends of two coppery tentacles. Immediately a picture of the area before them fizzed onto the screen.
‘Left, G-Mamma,’ she shouted. ‘There’s a break in the wall where a stream runs through it. I’m guessing the Octobus is amphibian?’
‘You guessed right, Blondette,’ yelled G-Mamma, a cry which was quickly followed by ‘Yeeeeehaaah!’ as the van careered right, dropped vertically almost onto its headlights, then sloughed along a brook through a small gap in the wall.
They skidded to a halt on a lawned area just behind a fountain. Janey clambered back into the cabin and opened the door, carefully hooking a finger though Trouble’s collar. With this much water around, there was no guaranteeing his behaviour. Unusually for a cat, he was incredibly fond of water.
Sure enough, as soon as Trouble felt a splash from the fountain’s pool on his nose, he struggled to escape her hold and launch himself into the water, but Janey hung on tight.
‘Not now, Twubs. We’re on a deadline.’
G-Mamma glanced at the fountain. ‘Is it a water park?’
‘I don’t think so. Look at this.’
Stepping out from behind the stone fountain, Janey pointed up the grassy hill. It was a neatly mown grassy hill that stretched on for miles, suggesting that this could be some kind of park with keepers and ride-on mowers. Peeking over the crest of the hill in the murky darkness was a series of turrets. ‘Maybe it’s Disneyland,’ she whispered.
The trio made their way up the slope, checking for onlookers, and stopped once they reached the top.
‘Oh my starry eyes,’ bleated G-Mamma. ‘It’s not Disney. It’s Downton.’
It certainly was - exactly like Downton Abbey, from the crenelated roofline to the scrunchy gravel drive that led to its immense doors and then circled the grand building.
‘Have we gone back in time too?’ said G-Mamma hopefully.
‘I don’t think so. Those are sate
llite dishes on the roof. But there’s only one way to find out for sure.’ Breaking into a trot, Janey headed for the massive front door.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Surprising them by doing the obvious,’ said Janey. ‘Just like you taught me.’
‘Yes!’ G-Mamma hurried after her protégée. ‘I did teach you that. I’m brilliant!’
The great house was gloomily dark. Even though it was night-time, Janey would have expected there to be some activity in a building this size, but there was very little light, and the only sound she could hear was a strange hissing noise that seemed to be coming from her chest. When she looked down, she discovered that it was Trouble, his back arched almost to her chin as a horrified yowl rattled in his throat.
She stroked his head as she ploughed on towards the doors, the stone chips of the driveway crunching beneath her Nikes. ‘Trouble, it’s okay. You’re just out of practice with spy missions. Actually, we’re all a bit out of practice.’
The cat wasn’t having any of it, however. Just as she loosened her grip to rap on the door before her, Trouble wriggled out of her grasp and shot off around the corner, back towards the fountain with his fabulous tail bolt upright in ‘offended and offensive’ position. Luckily, Trouble could handle himself if the estate was home to any larger cats, so Janey just watched him go, then inspected the front door as she waited for her mentor.
G-Mamma caught up with her, puffing slightly. ‘Anyone home?’
‘I don’t know. It’s really quiet.’
She lifted a hand to knock again, but pulled it back in surprise as a male voice called out.
‘Who’s there?’
Janey turned to G-Mamma. ‘What do we say?’ she whispered.
G-Mamma thought about it for a split second, then said loudly, ‘It’s Biggenham and Blonde – I mean, Brown – from … SWAG.’ So she’d seen the name on Flynn’s list too. ‘We’d like to talk to you, sir.’
‘Did you have to say SWAG?’ hissed Janey. ‘We sound like burglars. And by the way, I don’t think it’s a sir kind of person. This guy could be Alfie’s age.’
‘Like I said, we don’t know who we’re dealing with,’ said G-Mamma. She reached into a pocket in her flowing coat and pulled out the Taser-Torch. ‘Just in case,’ she added.
‘I … Is SWAG a paper or a magazine or something?’ said the voice, sounding nervous. And posh. Definitely the kind of voice that belonged with a mighty mansion of a house. ‘Only I don’t want to give any more interviews. I’ve taken over here and that’s that. Now please leave me alone.’
Cursing herself once more for not even putting on her Ultra-Gogs so she could X-ray the door and see who was on the other side of it, Janey interpreted what she’d heard. A male voice, someone not much older than her. Something had happened recently, and the press had been involved. Whatever it was, the event had left the person feeling vulnerable, as well as something else that Janey recognised …
Lonely.
The person on the other side of the door was feeling very alone.
Suddenly she knew how to deal with it.
‘Sorry,’ she said calmly. ‘We didn’t mean to bother you after everything that’s happened. But we’re not from the press or anything. No, SWAG is a … social club.’ Okay, so she was making it up as she went along, but it felt right. And true, somehow. ‘A special one, for people just like you.’
There was a pause, followed by a deep, deep sigh. ‘There’s nobody just like me.’
‘I bet there is. Me, for instance. I’ve known adventures – situations, even - like you wouldn’t believe. Except I imagine, somehow, that you would believe them.’
There was another long pause, which was a good sign. At least he hadn’t wandered off in boredom, or perhaps even scampered away to find a baseball bat or something to hit them with.
Finally, as Janey and G-Mamma stared at each other anxiously, there was another sigh. ‘Just give me a minute.’
They pressed their ears to the door, once again regretting how quickly they’d headed out of the Octobus without first going through the Wower. They definitely needed some catch-up training …
Beyond the half-a-forest that made up the oak barrier between them and the boy, they could hear faint shuffling and then a clanking sound. It clanked towards them.
Clank. Clank.
‘Robot?’ suggested Janey as the metallic thudding came closer.
G-Mamma shrugged, then slipped behind the archway and trained the Taser on the opening door, ready to cover Janey who stood her ground as the massive door creaked open.
It wasn’t a robot, though. It was a tall, gangly teenager dressed in jeans and a grey hoodie. The clanky noises were coming from the knight’s helmet wedged on his head. Behind him, Janey could see a headless suit of armour.
The helmet moved up and down as their host took in their appearance, first Janey and then G-Mamma, who tucked the Taser into the top of her boots and smiled in a way she must have thought was beguiling but was actually terrifying.
‘Hello. I’m sort of the leader of the sort of club that is SWAG,’ she purred. ‘Rosie Biggenham. Call me the Big G. I mean, GM.’
There was a snuffling noise inside the metal, and then the helmet creaked around towards Janey. ‘And you?’
‘Janey Brown.’ There was something about him. Something quiet and dark but weirdly comforting. This was someone she could trust, she just knew it. ‘Also known as … Jane Blonde,’ she added softly.
The guy just stood there, hands resting softly on his pockets, legs long and lean and ready to run if needs be, and the helmeted head swaying left and right, left and right as he weighed them both up.
Then at last, he opened the door wide. ‘I’m Jack Bootle-Cadogan,’ he said. ‘Also known as Lord BC of Lowmount. You’d better come in.’
As they stepped through the brooding doorway, a sharp chill wrapped itself around Janey’s bare arms, so cold it felt like needles prickling her flesh. It was the same sensation she’d had in her room the previous night.
Then the door swung shut behind them.
What craziness had she let herself in for this time?
Chapter 4– Dog Fights & Cat Cries
Janey and G-Mamma trekked after the guy in the knight’s helmet down the long, echoing corridors. He paused at a plain wooden door painted in simple white gloss - the simplest of the many they had passed - and cocked his head towards it. Appearing to hear nothing untoward, he waved them on.
‘My mother’s rooms,’ he whispered, although the sound of his voice was weirdly amplified by the metal headgear that it boomed slightly in Janey’s ear. ‘I think she’s asleep. She does that a lot these days.’
Janey hurried after him to catch up with his long, loping stride. ‘What happened, Jack? Why are the newspapers after you?’ She wondered if it was because he walked around in a suit of armour, but decided not to say anything.
‘My father died recently,’ Jack said, reaching a T-junction in the corridors and checking both ways before choosing a direction and lolloping towards a distant aroma of burning. ‘Mum’s taken to her bed.’
G-Mamma knocked on his helmet to get his attention. ‘And you became Lord of Lowmount?’ she bellowed. ‘Lucky you! Is that why you wear that helmet? Because you’re sort of royal? I’ve heard that you blue bloods are all eccentric.’
‘Right. We’re eccentric,’ said Jack with a heavy irony that would have made Alfie faint with jealousy, as his head angled towards G-Mamma.
He had a point. G-Mamma was dressed in an enormous fluffy white onesie that was obviously her pyjamas, all topped off with pink ear muffs which she’d slipped onto the top of her head so she could hear properly. She looked like the Easter bunny – and Janey was so used to the way she dressed that she hadn’t even noticed.
The Lord of Lowmount stopped suddenly. ‘I’m very sorry, Ms Biggenham. GM. That was uncalled for. But it’s not my blue blood you need to worry about.’
He let out a joyless bar
k of laughter that sounded so sad and hollow that Janey wanted to kick her SPI:KE in the shins. Sensitivity had never been G-Mamma’s strong point, but this was unforgiveable. It didn’t sound at all as though Jack was glad to be a lord, and as for the reason he wore the helmet – well, maybe he was deformed. Horribly disfigured. Perhaps he had the same disease as Gideon Flynn! That would make sense. Or he could have been viciously scarred in a fire. There was obviously something burning further along the corridor, so perhaps it had happened before. Putting a finger to her lips, she frowned at G-Mamma and turned down the corridor behind Jack.
After a few minutes trudging along the dusty parquet flooring, the wooden tiles gave way to terracotta stone. They were heading into a kitchen, which explained the stench of blackened food.
It was very large with cupboards all around the outside, a cavernous cream-coloured Aga across one end and a vast scrubbed pine table positioned in the centre. It was spacious – with school hall levels of spaciousness - but not especially luxurious. In fact, when Janey peered more closely she could see that the cabinets were ancient, and a lick of paint was well overdue. It reminded her of the Spylab before its most recent transformation.
‘This room needs a Wower,’ said G-Mamma, reading Janey’s mind.
‘Who’s Awower?’
Thankfully, Jack didn’t wait for an answer as the reek of cindered vegetables overcame them all. Pushing a couple of chairs away from the table for them, Jack folded his lanky body into the seat nearest the oven, then reached out and opened the stove door. Poisonous black fumes curled out into the kitchen. Jack sighed, closed the door again and turned the oven off. ‘I’m trying to learn how to cook,’ he said.
Janey smiled. ‘Not working?’
Jack shook his head sadly.
‘Don’t you have chefs? A fine house like this.’ G-Mamma wafted smoke out of her face. ‘They have them in Downton Abbey – dozens of them.’
From inside the helmet, Jack’s laughter had a metallic ring. ‘No money for chefs.’
S*W*A*G*G 1, Spook Page 4