Spy Penguins Series, Book 1
Page 8
Jackson tried to shout, That’s not fair! But the words got stuck in his throat. He looked at Quigley. His buddy shrugged. Coldfinger had them.
Or did she?
Jackson took a deep breath. Secret agents never gave up. And neither did big brothers. He puffed up his feathers. His mangled crest stood tall, spiky, and alert. There was a strange, pulsating anger growing in his belly, getting larger by the second. NO ONE, no matter how evil and scary, or however large their earrings, could threaten his soon-to-be sibling and get away with it. The bubble of fury in his belly suddenly shot up Jackson’s throat and burst out of his beak in a “GARGGGGGGHHHH!” Then he tossed the goggles into the shark tank and shouted, “CODE ICE STORM!” to Quigley. Code Ice Storm meant attack, but his buddy was already on it. Quigley had his backpack open and a whole swarm of frost-wasp bots was escaping.
“I borrowed them from Sunny’s workshop!” Quigley explained to Jackson. “I added the control box; awesome, right? See, it works by—”
“Great!” Jackson interrupted. “But maybe save the explanation for later.”
“Sure thing.” Quigley flicked a switch and—
“Ow!” squealed one of the muscle penguins as a bot stung him.
“Stop!”
“No!” another guard yelled.
“Not frost wasps! I hate frost wasps!”
“Ahhh!”
“Eeeeee, that hurt.”
“I want my mommy!”
Coldfinger let out a roar of rage. “STOP WHINING AND GET THEM!”
The biggest guard, the one holding the egg, lunged for Quigley. But just then an extra-large frost-wasp bot landed on him. “Yow!” he wailed, clutching his tail feathers. “I’m out of here!” He dropped the egg and shuffled out of the room, quickly followed by the other guards and the swarm of bots.
Jackson scooped up his soon-to-be sibling. But Coldfinger wasn’t beaten. She dived toward him, spinning the grabber claw wildly above her head. “Hey, barf-beak, how do you like your eggs? How about scrambled!”
Jackson backed away, shielding the egg. Then his legs bumped into something that smelled foul. He glanced down. Of course! He signaled to Quigley. “Catch!” And he bowled his soon-to-be sibling across the floor to his buddy. Then he grabbed the bucket of shark chum and shouted, “Hey, Coldfinger! You look hungry. Have some snacks.”
For a second she didn’t seem to know what had hit her. Then the icky gloop started trickling down her face. “My jewels,” she shrieked, dropping the grabber claw and clutching her bling.
“Ms. Belle?” The flappy penguin with the pens around her neck poked her head around the door. “Oh my word!” she gasped when she saw Coldfinger. “What on earth—”
“Help me!” Coldfinger wailed.
“Ooo, I’d love to,” the flappy penguin said. “But the FBI has just arrived. And they want to see you.”
“What? No!” Coldfinger’s eyes widened. “Order my heli-hopper. I’m leaving!” She shuffled past Jackson.
“Not so fast!” Jackson scooped up the grabber claw, and before Coldfinger could reach the door he’d hooked her by the ankles. She hit the floor with a loud jangly doof!
“Let me go!” Coldfinger growled, thrashing about like a beached whale.
“I don’t think so,” said a familiar voice. Jackson’s Uncle Bryn stood in the doorway with three other FBI agents, a beaming Lily behind him. She gave them a flippers-up.
Uncle Bryn pushed his dark glasses down a fraction and winked at his nephew. “Good work there, young agents,” he said. “Ms. Chilla Belle, I’m Agent Rockflopper of the FBI. We’ve seen everything downstairs. You are under arrest for theft of rare species.”
“How dare you!” Coldfinger spluttered.
“Take her away, fellas,” Uncle Bryn told his colleagues.
“What? No!” Coldfinger yelled. “Get those flipper-cuffs off me!” Coldfinger tried to kick Uncle Bryn as she was led away. “After my lawyers have finished with you, you’ll be working in a gift shop.”
“He already does.” Lily grinned at Jackson and Quigley.
“Well, you guys certainly netted a good catch there,” Uncle Bryn said after Coldfinger had gone.
“I agree.” The FBI boss penguin shuffled in. “Good work, hatchlings!”
Jackson blushed. This time he didn’t mind being called a hatchling.
“We’ve had our eye on Chilla Belle for years,” she added. “But we’ve never had the evidence to arrest her for anything until now.”
“Oh, you’ll find lots of evidence on my Blink Cam Goggles,” Quigley said, “only they’re at the bottom of this shark tank.”
“But we can fish the goggles out for you with this.” Jackson waggled the grabber claw. “And we can show you how she stole the fish, too. See, we discovered that there are these drainage tunnels that connect to the aquarium next door.”
Uncle Bryn’s boss cracked a smile. “We may need to think about starting a junior agent division at the FBI, Agent Rockflopper,” she told Uncle Bryn. “I think these two might make good recruits.”
Jackson and Quigley looked at each other. Have we done it? Have we actually gotten ourselves hired by the FBI? Jackson wondered.
But just then there was a cough from the doorway. “Excuse me, but it’s WAY past their bedtime. Jackson! Quigley! I think you’ve got some explaining to do.”
Jackson gulped.
Quigley gasped.
Even Uncle Bryn and his boss looked scared.
“Hi, Mom,” Jackson squeaked. “I can explain everything.”
19
“Lily’s dad sure looked happy when he arrived to fetch his fish,” Jackson said.
His mom nodded but didn’t say anything as she drove them out of the restaurant parking lot, heading for home.
“Oh, yeah,” Quigley said. “His fish are safe, the real thief is behind bars, and he’s got his job back.”
“Mmm,” Jackson’s mom said, glancing at them both in her rearview mirror.
“Wish we could have stayed and helped him and Lily return the fish to the aquarium,” Jackson added.
His mom frowned at him in her mirror, but she didn’t say anything.
Jackson glanced at Quigley. So far his mom hadn’t actually gone Great White on them, but they both knew it was bound to happen any moment. The wait before getting their heads chewed off was always worse than the actual head chewing itself.
Jackson sighed. He wanted to have it over and done with. “Hey, did you hear that Uncle Bryn said most of the guests at the restaurant didn’t even know the fish on the menu were protected species?”
“I bet Hoff Rockface and his dad did,” Quigley said. “They looked pretty smug as they were leaving.”
“Hmm,” Jackson’s mom said. But she still didn’t say anything.
Jackson looked at his buddy again. This was agony—like the calm before the snowstorm!
“At least Sunny isn’t in trouble,” Jackson went on. “Uncle Bryn says he had no idea what Coldfinger was planning to do with the fish grabber.”
“Such a relief,” Quigley said. “If he’d gone to jail, he wouldn’t have been able to fix my sled.”
“Oh, yeah, that would have been terrible.” Jackson smiled. Secretly he hoped Sunny would never get around to mending it. He definitely didn’t want another test drive, not after Sunny had gotten his flippers on it.
Quigley nudged him. “Lily said to give you this.”
Jackson took the FBI transmitter his buddy was holding and quickly shoved it in his backpack before his mom saw it. Must remember to give that back to Uncle Bryn sometime, he thought. Although it had come in handy. Lily had said the FBI arrived less than three minutes after she’d pressed the button.
Jackson looked at his mom again in her mirror. Still no head chewing? Then a hopeful thought popped into his head. Maybe she wasn’t going to go Great White after all. Maybe she was actually proud of them. Maybe she wouldn’t mind them joining the FBI. Jackson took a deep breath. “So, the
FBI said we could maybe join them as junior agents,” he said as though it was a perfectly normal occupation for young penguins. Please think this is a good idea, he thought, crossing his flippers.
“HA! Great joke, Jackson,” his mom suddenly exploded. “As if I’d let you put yourselves in danger like that. Not to mention the egg!” She glanced across at Jackson’s soon-to-be sibling, who was sitting in a car seat next to her. “What were you boys thinking, taking the egg with you?” Her words shot out like hailstones. “ANYTHING could have happened! What if the egg had hatched?”
Jackson looked at his feet. “Sorry, Mom.”
“Yeah, sorry, Mrs. Rockflopper,” Quigley said. He glanced at Jackson and mouthed, Great White!
“Well, you’re both going to have plenty of time to think about your behavior,” Jackson’s mom snapped. And the atmosphere in the snowmobile suddenly plummeted to sub-zero. Jackson looked at Quigley. This was it. She was moving in for the kill.
“I’ve spoken to your parents, too, Quigley,” she said. “And we all agreed upon your punishment.” She paused for several frozen seconds and Jackson and Quigley held their breath. Then—“DECK SCRUBBING!” she bellowed.
“What? NOOOO!” Jackson couldn’t believe his ears. Deck scrubbing meant cleaning up gull poop. Rookeryville was covered in the stuff.
“Oh, and I thought it would be a really nice gesture if you were to scrub ALL the decks in the neighborhood. Because you know, a really strange thing happened earlier.” Jackson’s mom pulled up outside their house and turned to face them, her eyes glinting and a toothy great-white smile washing over her face. “See, ALL the neighbors paid me a visit tonight. For some reason, they thought I was hosting a party. Can you believe it?”
Jackson glanced at Quigley and swallowed hard.
“There were dozens of them,” she went on. “Such a coincidence, huh? Well, their visit gave me the idea for your punishment. I’m calling it Operation Good Neighbor. I’ll wake you both at 5 A.M. tomorrow so you get an early start. You can begin with old Mrs. Hoppy-Floppy’s deck at the end of the street.”
“But, Mom,” Jackson wailed. “Mrs. Hoppy-Floppy FEEDS the gulls. Her deck is, like, Poop City!”
“Oh, and Jackson”—his mom’s shark eyes bored into his—“just for the record, I won the trackers’ cup three years in a row when I was in Flipper Scouts.” She winked at him. “So I will always find you, snow or no snow! Now, off to bed, both of you.” Mom picked up the egg, slipped out of the snowmobile, and stalked up the path.
As they followed her to the house, their backs droopy and their beaks down, Jackson felt a sudden vibration in his backpack. It was Uncle Bryn’s transmitter. Jackson grabbed Quigley and they hung back, listening to the radio.
“CALLING ALL AGENTS, CALLING ALL AGENTS,” said a tiny, tinny voice from inside the bag. “WE HAVE REPORTS OF AN ALARM GOING OFF AT THE BEST CREST BANK. ALL AGENTS RESPOND.”
“A bank robbery?” Jackson whispered.
“Awesome!” Quigley gave his buddy a flippers-up.
“As soon as Mom’s asleep, we’ll go check it out, right?”
“Sure thing, Agent 00Zero,” Quigley whis-pered. “Just give me two minutes to fast-charge the frost-wasp bots, because you never know when they’ll come in handy.”
Jackson hopped up the last few steps and into the house with a giant grin on his face. He could feel his adventure detector starting to sound—a real-life bank robbery? Yes, please! “We’re going to show the FBI that they need us,” he whispered to Quigley. “And this time Mom is not going to stop us. Come on, LET’S DO THIS!”
Their next mission had begun.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Just as Jackson and Quigley work together to solve crimes, so it takes a team to make a book about their adventures.
I’d like to thank my fantastic editor, Holly West, for her boundless enthusiasm, her expert direction, and her keen eye for detail. And also thanks to the rest of the team at Feiwel and Friends; I feel so lucky to be part of your family.
I’m grateful too for the work of talented artist Marek Jagucki, who brings Rookeryville to life with his amazing pictures.
I couldn’t write without the support of my much-loved family, especially my husband, James, and my children, Alice and Archie, who have had to put up with my penguin obsession. Thanks, Alice, for your unwavering rock-solid belief in me. And thanks, Archie, for proofreading the first draft and for nagging me to get on with book 2 because you enjoyed the first story so much!
And finally, I’d like to thank my awesome agent, Gemma Cooper, who loved Jackson and Quigley’s penguin world from the start. Thanks for your patience, encouragement, and support, Gemma. You’re one special penguin.
Thank you for reading this FEIWEL AND FRIENDS book.
The friends who made
possible are:
JEAN FEIWEL, PUBLISHER
LIZ SZABLA, ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER
RICH DEAS, SENIOR CREATIVE DIRECTOR
HOLLY WEST, EDITOR
ANNA ROBERTO, EDITOR
CHRISTINE BARCELLONA, EDITOR
KAT BRZOZOWSKI, EDITOR
KIM WAYMER, SENIOR PRODUCTION MANAGER
ALEXEI ESIKOFF, SENIOR MANAGING EDITOR
ANNA POON, ASSISTANT EDITOR
EMILY SETTLE, ASSISTANT EDITOR
CAROL LY, DESIGNER
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sam Hay is the author of over thirty books for children including the UNDEAD PETS series (Grosset & Dunlap/Penguin US, Stripes UK) and STELLA AND THE NIGHT SPIRITS (Scholastic US). UNDEAD PETS has been translated into six languages so far. Sam also writes picture books for Egmont, including DO NOT WASH THIS BEAR, DINOSAURS UNITED (July 2017) and STAR IN THE JAR (2018). She was long-listed for the UKLA award for her 2009 novel BILLY ANGEL. Sam was brought up in Scotland and trained as a journalist in Edinburgh. After starting out in newspapers, Sam moved to London where she worked for BBC television for ten years. She still reckons working on daily live television is the perfect brain trainer for life! Sam became a full-time writer when her first baby was born and now lives in Wales with her husband and two children who provide the inspiration for many of her stories. Sam is a passionate advocate for improving literacy in schools and is a regular visitor to classrooms across the country. She has a fantastic repertoire of games and stories to get kids excited about reading. You can sign up for email updates here.
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
Marek Jagucki, the illustrator of the My Big Fat Zombie Goldfish series, is a graduate of Falmouth School of Art and Design. He is a full-time illustrator and graphic designer based in Yorkshire, UK. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Acknowledgments
About the Author and Illustrator
Copyright
A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK
An imprint of Macmillan P
ublishing Group, LLC
175 Fifth Ave, New York, NY 10010
SPY PENGUINS. Text copyright © 2018 by Sam Hay. Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Marek Jagucki. All rights reserved.
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by e-mail at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-1-250-18838-0 (hardcover) / ISBN 978-1-250-18839-7 (ebook)
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
First edition, 2018
mackids.com