S*W*A*G*G 1, Spook

by Jill Marshall

  The room, however, was completely devoid of people. In fact, all it contained was a vast white cylinder that stretched along the centre of the room. It emanated a weak violet light that reflected off irregular patches on the wall. From the middle of the cylinder, a stretcher-type bed covered in surgical paper protruded like a pale, sickly tongue, and some electrical, headache-inducing pulse throbbed rhythmically throughout the entire room.

  It was another of those odd rooms that wouldn’t usually exist in a head office building. Janey had seen several, and even spy organisations’ central offices didn’t usually house an advanced hospital wing.

  Because she was sure that this was yet more medical equipment. She’d never had cause to go in one, but Janey was fairly certain that this was an MRI machine, used to scan people for whatever might be going on beneath the surface, inside their joints and organs and in the core of their bones.

  ‘Strange,’ she whispered as she searched around for the switch to turn it off.

  A cable ran to the edge of the room and she followed it to the plug socket, but suddenly she was distracted by the ghostly purple patches spattered across the walls. What did that remind her of?

  It was only as she seized the plug and pulled it from the wall that she realised. It was like Gideon’s Garbo message, illuminated by the UV light that G-Mamma had created in the Spylab. Fumbling for the piece of kit in her pocket, she shone the blacklight across the walls.

  Something had been cleaned off the walls, but the eerie blacklight could still make it out. Slowly, she drew her finger through the nearest patch and held it up to her face. Janey’s heart sank. It wasn’t invisible ink.

  It was blood.

  All over the walls.

  Stumbling, Janey backed out of the room, only just remembering to close the door behind her, then she ran back to Oscar Sullivan’s office with its evil window that overlooked the horrible MRI room.

  Her hunch had been correct: now that the magnetic force had completely disappeared, the case pulled easily off the wall. The rifle fell to the floor, for all the world as if it had shot its own way out of its … what had Gideon called it? Its prison.

  What terrible deeds had been carried out with this gun? Janey hardly dared to think. She didn’t want to touch it, but she had to decide whether she should trust Gideon Flynn who had urged her to know right from wrong, or the HOST organisation who seemed to be hiding some monstrous secrets in their basement.

  Taking off her jumper, she wrapped it carefully around the rifle and then walked, with a heavy knot in her stomach, to join the others.

  Chapter 13 - B is for Bad Basement

  Jack and Tilly were wheeling G-Mamma towards the theatre door as Janey approached, while Gideon was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Up and at 'em, Blondette,’ said G-Mamma, her voice weak and halting, but nonetheless with some of her usual verve.

  Janey raced to her side. ‘You’re better!’

  ‘It’s going to take more than a bit of poison to get rid of me, especially when, at long last, I’ve stopped being the Bigg Squid and can be the Big G again.’ G-Mamma turned her head towards Janey. The mentor’s eyes were bloodshot and sore, but they were as wide and blinking as ever, and right now they were focussed on the parcel in Janey’s arms. ‘A gun might do it, though, if you were planning to finish me off.’

  ‘A gun?’ shouted Jack and Tilly together.

  ‘It’s an old rifle.’ Janey peeked into the corridor, then waved them forward. ‘I’ll explain later. Where’s Gideon?’

  There was someone else who could also do some explaining, and not very much later at all. In fact, if she could find him, there were a few questions she would like Gideon Flynn to clear up straight away – like, why was there blood all over the wall of the MRI room, and why was he so interested in this rifle, and just what was the HOST organisation up to in these dark basements that contrasted so starkly with the streamlined glass of the main offices?

  Jack swung the gurney out into the corridor, ignoring G-Mamma’s outraged squeaking. ‘Flynn took off after that man, the one who was lurking outside the operating theatre. He said to meet him by the ambulance.’

  ‘Which we’ll have to return to its owners in less than half an hour, before the paramedics come to and wonder why all the doughnuts have gone,’ added Tilly, springing along beside the trolley like a spaniel and fronting up to every door they passed like a silvery-blue haired ninja, checking for enemies to fight.

  G-Mamma’s squeaking became even more outraged. ‘You gave them my doughnuts?’

  ‘Erm, in exchange for your life?’ Tilly pointed out reasonably. Spotting something in the glass front of one of the offices, she dropped into a defensive position, screaming ‘Kai-aiaiaiaiaia!’ at the top of her voice. ‘Oh!’ she said suddenly. ‘That man’s no danger, with his eyes all bandaged up.’

  They all peered in through the glass. A tall, slender man was sitting up in bed, the upper half of his head entirely swathed in bandages. He cocked his head towards the door, calling, ‘Sullivan? Is that you? You can’t just keep me here. Sullivan!’

  Tilly threw open the door. ‘Sorry! Not Sully. Tilly!’ she yelled across the ward. The man slumped back against the pillows, defeated. ‘I’ll get someone for you,’ she called sweetly.

  ‘The poor man’s blind, not deaf! You’re very loud,’ barked G-Mamma, and Janey almost laughed.

  ‘Takes one to know one,’ replied Tilly.

  She was right. There were definite similarities between Matilda Peppercorn and her SPI:KE – both self-assured, both larger than life, both ready to take on anything and anyone, and both exceptionally chatty. Janey caught Jack’s eye and they both grinned, but deep down she was starting to wonder about Tilly. They were so different that she wasn’t sure they’d ever truly get along – and she wasn’t entirely sure why she had to in the first place. What was Tilly doing here anyway?

  Yet another of those questions that Gideon could answer for her, when they found him again.

  ‘The man Gideon was chasing – was it a security guard?’ she asked Jack. They were nearing the car park now, so they needed to be sure the coast was clear before they revealed themselves in the bright subterranean lighting.

  Jack shrugged. ‘Not sure. I only saw him for a second when I came out to report that G-Mamma’s ba was firmly back in her body. He clocked Gideon, looked furious and then turned tail and ran. He was heading out here.’

  They were in the car park. Half the cars had disappeared as the staff had gone home, and Janey suddenly realised that she had very little idea how long they’d been here. If Tilly had given the paramedics three hours and they had half an hour to get back, it must be about six thirty. With an anxious flutter of her heart, Janey thought of her parents. She hadn’t told them she was going out. They’d be getting dinner ready, assuming she was in her room, then discover that she wasn’t there and hadn’t even left a note. They’d be terrified about what might have happened to her – although perhaps not as terrified as they would have been if they’d still been spies. There was no time to lose – which was ironic, given that they were in the head office of the HOST organisation. What was their motto again? Helping Others Save Time. The only time-saving equipment she knew of was back in the Spylab …

  … but then there was also Jack Bootle-Cadogan, who could speed things up rather significantly. And Tilly, who seemed to be able to pause time while she got on with whatever wrong doing she fancied. They could be a very useful team if it suited them.

  And right now, it did suit them.

  From a dimly lit recess of the car park came the screech of an engine. They all turned together to see a large transit van careering towards them, and before they could register what was going on, a khaki-clad arm appeared from a window, letting loose shot after shot from a gun that certainly wasn’t an old rifle, as the gap between them and the van decreased at an alarming pace.

  Jack yelped, his dog head popping up almost instantly as he positioned himsel
f between the approaching vehicle and his patient. Janey scanned the exits; they were all blocked by more vans, more guards in khaki uniforms. Tilly’s hair was standing on end so crazily that it almost appeared to be radiating blue light. ‘They mustn’t see me!’ she cried, then she dived onto the bottom section of the gurney below G-Mamma.

  ‘Off!’ shouted the SPI:KE, and in the same moment she rolled herself sideways and landed solidly on both feet, almost her usual self. She grabbed Tilly’s arm, hauled her off the trolley and thrust the girl behind her. ‘Blonde, use the gurney.’

  Janey had already worked out what she was planning. She nodded immediately.

  ‘The exits are a no-go,’ she said quickly, ‘so the only way is back down the corridor. You go and find Gideon, and give this to him.’ She could try firing the rifle, of course, but she wasn’t sure it was in very good shape, or even whether she’d be comfortable using a gun. ‘Take the ambulance if you have to. I’ll distract the guards. Don’t wait for me!’

  ‘Of course we’ll wait for you.’ Jack was hopping from one enormous foot to the other, very undecided on what to do for the best. ‘You can’t fight these people on your own!’

  The van was barrelling around the nearest corner of the car park, scraping along an entire row of tiny electric two-seater smart cars that were hooked up to their chargers, before wrenching the bumper off an executive-looking BMW. Bullets ricocheted wildly off the concrete pillars.

  ‘Go!’ she screamed. ‘GM needs help.’

  With one last desperate glance, Jack nodded and rushed away, grabbing Tilly and G-Mamma by the shoulder and evaporating them through the wall and back along the corridor.

  Wishing she had her spysuit on, Jane Blonde faced the vehicle that screamed directly towards her. She’d have to improvise. The gurney on its own wouldn’t do much, but if she could motorise it in some way …

  Grabbing two fire extinguishers from either side of the lift, she smacked the button to call the double-sized lift down to the basement. In the same movement, she banged both extinguishers on the floor and leapt onto the gurney. The pressure from the exploding fire equipment was almost uncontrollable, but she managed to hang on as the jet-propelled trolley veered towards the van. It was upon her. She’d crash into it any second! But just as she could clearly see the stunned faces of the driver and passenger of the van, could feel the flare from the muzzle of the revolver as shots were fired, Janey leapt to her feet, spun the fire extinguishers around and sprayed the van’s windscreen with cascades of white foam. The two men shouted, their vision completely obliterated and chemical foam spurting through the open windows into their faces – and, Janey hoped, their guns.

  As she flung herself from the gurney, the transit van swung sideways and crashed into a skip, ripping the hospital gurney in half and springing the car’s alarm so that the noise brought the other guards running.

  Janey landed with a crash on the bonnet of the BMW, behind the van and away from the main door to the car park, where the HOST security forces were now gathering. A bolt of pain shot through her arm as she tried to lever herself up, and she fell back again. She’d broken it, or dislocated her shoulder or something, but the means to her escape was not going to hang around for her to investigate it. She could hear it now, trundling to a stop, the lights blinking above it. Around the car park echoed a loud ping, and then the double doors of the lift slid apart.

  The lift was twenty metres away, and the guards were only a little further on. In her agonised state, she’d never be able to run across to it before the doors closed again. A shot rang out past her ear and she turned her head to avoid it – and saw her chance.

  Letting her spy instincts take over completely, Jane Blonde slid off the side of the BMW, wrenched open the door of the neighbouring Smart car. She smacked what she hoped was some kind of ignition button and slammed her foot on the accelerator, cradling her arm at the same time as waves of pain surged through her. She could hardly steer, but with her left hand she dragged the wheel down as the little car shot forward, tearing itself free of the charger. It hurtled towards the lift, rocking wildly as Janey tried to control the steering one-handed, and then, just as the light above the lift turned red and the doors began to roll back into view, the tiny car powered into the metal cube. Janey hit the brakes and the car practically stood on its nose as the lift doors slid shut behind her and it bounced off the back wall of the lift.

  Janey released a breath of relief, even though she knew the fight wasn’t over. She might be in the lift, but the car doors were jammed up against the sides – she was trapped in the Smart car, and if the lift didn’t move the doors would open again and she’d have to face the whole angry guard mob straight on.

  Just as she was searching for a way to operate the sunroof, she heard a noise – that ping again. Someone had called the lift. Immediately the metal box began to shift, and Janey looked around desperately for a way to get out. Otherwise she’d have to reverse out into the corridor in the main offices, and she had no idea who might be waiting for her up there. Even worse, there might be ordinary HOST staff there who could be mown down, injured or worse, by a careering Smart car operated by someone who only had a sketchy idea of how to drive at the best of times.

  Then she spotted the illuminated numbers on the lift’s panel. G for Ground Floor sat above B for Basement – and indeed, she could see the word ‘Reception’ beside the G and ‘Parking’ next to B. Above the G, the numbers 1 to 5 were just about visible – because the illumination of the numbers was going in the other direction.

  ‘I’m going down,’ Janey hissed.

  She peered more closely at the numbers. There seemed to be just as many floors below the Ground Floor as there were above it, although it appeared from the fact that they glowed a dark and ominous red, unlike the cheery green of the upper floors, that there might be limited access to these floors.

  The lift halted at B5. There was no helpful description on the plate beside the light display, and Janey ducked down as the lift doors glided apart in case she’d been set up. When nobody appeared, and before the lift could be called to another part of the building, she reversed the car as gently as she knew how and parked in the corridor. It was tempting to drive the car the full length of the passageway and make her escape that way, but she was fearful of being trapped in it if the corridor narrowed. Wishing she’d kept hold of the rifle, if only for a show of strength, she opened the car door gingerly and stepped out into the passage.

  It was even darker than the corridor containing the operating theatre, but Janey could see a faint light from the far end – an exit, hopefully. She set off towards it, trying to jog but feeling the jagged jolts of pain through her arm as her feet hit the floor, so she slowed to a fast walk, taking in her surroundings. The passageway was unlit, but at intervals she could see a dark, blood-red glow oozing out beneath a door. Remembering the walls of the MRI room, she shivered and tried to hurry along.

  Then suddenly she heard it – a woman’s voice. ‘This way! She’s trapped down in B5.’

  The sound of the HOST henchmen’s pounding feet filled Janey’s ears. Staggering back towards the car, she thought again about driving along the corridor, but if it truly was a dead end and she was trapped, then she could crash it or get herself completely stuck. She had to hide.

  But talking of crashes … Hobbling to the car door and thanking the stars that she’d left the engine running, Janey reached through the door with her good arm and slammed it into DRIVE. The car set off on its own, slowly at first but gathering momentum as it scraped haplessly along the corridor. That should distract them for a moment, at least. Looking around, Janey raced towards the next sliver of light along the corridor, for all the world like a demonic eye peering at her from the floor. She pressed her ear to the door. There was a deep humming sound from within, and for a second her heart thumped again – more MRI machines? But this was different – less like a pulsating beat and more … mechanical. It sounded rather like the Sm
art car being charged – the car that was currently careering towards a dead end. As it smashed into a wall in the distance, Janey pushed the door open a little, then shoved it open fully.

  It was a factory of some kind. Twenty or thirty long cabinets hid some kind of machinery from view, churning away before spitting out their product onto a conveyor belt at the end. The red glow was emanating from these belts, so Janey shut the door as footsteps and the same woman’s voice penetrated the air close by, and moved silently to the nearest cabinet. Seeing lights and symbols that she couldn’t understand, she stole past it until she was standing beside the vast rotating belt on which something sparkled and gleamed.

  The products were something worryingly familiar. The machine, to her astonishment, was churning out rubies – tiny, beautifully formed rubies cut into flat lozenge shapes, not like the stone in the Simone Varley’s ring but more like … what was it? Janey stared. They reminded her of something, but she couldn’t think what. She certainly couldn’t think of any jewellery they’d be used for, unless they were joined together to make a necklace or bracelet.

  Further along the conveyor belt, the rubies were tipped onto a tray in neat lines before being swallowed up into a black hole at the belt’s end.

  Janey was just about to investigate that when her text alert buzzed. ‘Where have you gone? We just tried Alfie but you’re not there! Dinner went cold an hour ago.’

  It was her parents, fretting as she’d known they would. How quickly she’d forgotten, now that she was caught up in an adventure again. She texted back quickly ‘Sorry! Needed book from Bree at school. Back in a few!’ Then she slid her phone back into her jeans pocket - along with one tiny lozenge-shaped ruby – as she headed back towards the door to make her escape.

  But suddenly it banged back on its hinges. Trying not to gasp aloud, Janey flung herself beneath the nearest machine, but it wasn’t far enough. Her arm was sticking out, and meanwhile a troop of khaki-clad marines were stomping into the room, pelting towards her. They’d see her any moment, see her stupid arm that acted like it no longer belonged to her, screaming with pain and refusing to bend so that she could drag it back under cover.