S.T.I.N.K.B.O.M.B. (10 page)

Barney took one last, lingering look round the secret underground MI6 ops centre then began to shuffle reluctantly towards the door.

‘I don’t get it,’ Archie said, sadly watching his friend edge out of sight. ‘If you know this much about Doctor Doom then shouldn’t you have a pretty good idea who
he is?’

‘We’ve run the evidence through our database,’ X-ray mumbled from behind the slanted curtain of her fringe. ‘We’ve used different electronic filter tags, adjusted
the parameter tolerances and played with all sorts of data-funnelling algorithms. Every time it comes up with one possible suspect.’

‘And . . . ?’ Archie demanded impatiently.

‘. . . and, he’s your evil enemy,’ said Highwater.

‘Of course he’s my enemy,’ Archie retorted. ‘And he’s obviously evil.’

‘No – that’s his name,’ Agent X-ray explained disdainfully. ‘Professor, Yuri, Villenemi. Pronounced “Yu-ree Vill-enemi”.’

‘That figures,’ Archie replied. ‘Sounds like your average evil genius to me.’

‘Professor Villenemi worked as a chief government research scientist until about four years ago,’ explained Highwater, ‘when it was discovered that he had been secretly
experimenting on human embryos. He was conducting illegal experiments into genetic modification and human cloning with a view to selling the results to terrorist groups. When he was found out he
went on the run. MI6’s top agent was tracking him down but Villenemi killed her in cold blood.’

‘This doesn’t stack up.’ Archie shook his head dubiously. ‘Why has MI6 given us – I mean you – such an important case?’

Highwater smiled as though it was a question she had expected. ‘Mr Ego – that’s Mr Figo – believes this is our opportunity to demonstrate our true worth,’ she said
with a conviction she didn’t feel.

Highwater rightly suspected that her boss was highly sceptical of any real link between the ramblings of Dr Doom and the apparent runaway teenager in Norway. Figo believed the Internet was so
vast you could generate thousands of hidden messages if you analysed every possible pattern of words and letters, so any connection between the blog and the events in Norway was probably
coincidental.

He had assigned the case to Highwater because he was confident that, after weeks of Internet monitoring and field surveillance, her team of fledgling agents would find no concrete evidence.
Following their embarrassing failure in their maiden assignment, Figo was sure that any talk of Highwater leapfrogging him on the corporate ladder would be brushed under the carpet.

‘So he wanted to give your kids a chance to prove themselves? That’s cool,’ Archie commented, removing his glasses to polish them on his hoody. Replacing them, he continued,
‘But now you’ve identified Villenemi as the main suspect – and if this Villenemi is really as dangerous as you say and has already killed an MI6 agent – then surely this
isn’t the time to let us play at being spies? Surely the whole of MI6 should be concentrating on nailing this man?

Agent X-ray looked uncertainly at her superiors then mumbled, ‘They don’t believe our theory, though. They say Villenemi can’t be the bad guy.’

‘How come?’ Archie asked.

Highwater’s leather chair squeaked as she shifted her position.

Agent X-ray inspected her hair for split ends.

There was a long pause before Holden Grey spoke. ‘Well, according to
official
records,’ he said sceptically, ‘the SAS smoked him two years ago.’

‘What do you mean?’ Archie asked.

‘I mean they blew up his secret lair – with him in it,’ Grey confessed. ‘DNA analysis was used to identify Villenemi from his charred remains.’

Archie blinked at the three MI6 agents and frowned. ‘Sorry if I’m being a bit thick, but . . . doesn’t the fact that he’s dead sort of eliminate him from your
enquiries?’

‘We are fully aware that our mission faces certain challenges, Mr Hunt,’ Highwater added.

Archie snorted. ‘What, apart from the fact that your only suspect is dead?’

For a moment an uncomfortable silence descended, then a mumbled suggestion came from the other side of the room.

‘Or he
wants
you to believe that he’s dead.

Everyone turned to see Barney’s round face poking out from round the corner.

‘I thought you’d been asked to leave,’ Agent X-ray sneered.

‘The door is locked,’ Barney offered, pointing awkwardly at the exit. ‘I didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘Would you care to explain your remark, Mr Jones?’ Highwater ordered.

Barney looked momentarily surprised, then stepped round the corner into full view. ‘I mean that Villenemi could have faked his own death. Well, it’s classic anti-surveillance spy
craft, isn’t it?’ He shrugged and scratched his head.

‘Not really,’ Highwater corrected. ‘Ducking into a shop doorway or getting off a train at the last minute is classic anti-surveillance spy craft. Faking your own death is
pretty fanciful stuff.’

‘Oh, OK.’ Barney sounded downbeat. ‘It’s just that double-oh six did it in
Goldeneye
.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Alec Trevelyan, who was played by Sean Bean, was double-oh six.’ Barney threw his palms wide as though this was basic information that everyone should know. ‘He faked his own
death while on a mission with Bond in a Russian weapons factory. With MI6 believing he was dead, he was free to go off and become the head of the evil Janus syndicate.’

Studying Barney, Highwater tapped a pen on her teeth. At last she said, ‘And how would you explain the DNA match in the burned-out lab?’

Barney rolled his wide eyes skywards and took a couple more steps into the room. ‘He’s a genetic scientist, isn’t he?’ he remarked, his tone bordering on exasperation.
‘He’d probably cloned himself or spliced his genes with one of his henchmen or something. All I’m saying is it wouldn’t be hard for a brilliant genetic scientist to
duplicate his own DNA and plant it in some other tissue in order to fool the authorities into believing he’s dead.’

Highwater looked enquiringly from Holden Grey to Agent X-ray. Both responded with a cautious nod.

‘When you put it like that, it does sound pretty basic.’ Highwater scribbled hastily in her beige folder. ‘Good work, Mr Jones. We’ve only just reached a similar
conclusion ourselves.’ She continued to scribble feverishly.

‘Does that mean I’m in?’ Barney’s cheeks were blooming.

‘We can evidently use someone with your unique expertise,’ Highwater stated, extending a hand for Barney to shake. ‘Welcome to the team.’

Beaming, Barney resumed his position next to Archie, who gave his shoulder a congratulatory punch but was clearly lost in his own thoughts.

The information Archie had been given was a bittersweet revelation. Yes, his father was probably still alive but, if so, he was to be used as a guinea pig in some bizarre scientific
experiment.

‘I’m sure you have plenty of questions that I’d be happy to give you answers to,’ said Highwater, studying Archie.

He didn’t know where to begin. How would Dr Doom’s experiments affect his father? Were there any leads as to the whereabouts of Doom’s laboratory? Once it was located, how
would they go about overpowering the evil mastermind and rescuing his hostages? Archie wanted to interrogate Highwater on every tiny aspect of her plan but, overwhelmed with a strange mixture of
relief and anxiety, he found that he couldn’t speak.

‘I have a question,’ Barney piped up.

‘Yes, Mr Jones?’ said Highwater.

Archie smiled, grateful to his friend for stepping in to establish the facts on his behalf.

‘Do we get any cool gadgets?’ asked Barney.

‘Gadgets?’ echoed Archie, bewildered.

‘Yeah, gadgets,’ said Barney defensively. ‘In the movies undercover agents always get a bunch of cool gadgets at the beginning of the mission. And there’s always one
gadget with a really random but specific function that just so happens to be exactly what the agent needs to get out of a tight spot when he’s inside the baddie’s lair.

And while we’re at it, we need a name for the agency,’ Barney gabbled excitedly. ‘Some sort of cool acronym like PANTHERS or something.’

‘Wicked, innit?’ bluffed Grey. ‘What do the letters stand for?’

A faint pinkish hue bloomed in Barney’s round cheeks. ‘I dunno,’ he mumbled. ‘I just thought it was a cool name.’

‘Correct me if I’m wrong,’ sighed Highwater, ‘but the general idea of an acronym is that each letter is an initial of the title.’ She enjoyed her sense of
superiority for a long moment before continuing. ‘Now, before you go into the field I will need you both to sign a disclaimer. It’s simply a formality—’

‘What about the gadgets?’ demanded Archie, annoyed at the way his friend had been dismissed. ‘You did say you’d answer all our questions.’

‘Ah yes.’ Highwater clicked her fingers as if the subject had momentarily slipped her mind. ‘The gadgets.’

Her heels tick-tocked on the marble floor as she led the way to the opposite end of the room where a long workbench was cluttered with dismantled radios, butchered computers
and the insides of numerous household appliances. Holden Grey snatched a white lab coat from a wall-mounted hook and pulled it on as he followed.

Archie, Barney and Agent X-ray tagged along and they all gathered round the table.

‘OK, guys,’ said Grey, his pale eyes twinkling. ‘Let’s cut the business and get straight down to the chase. I’m about to brief you on the equipment I’ve
developed for your secret undercover mission.’

Archie could sense Barney tense up with excitement as Holden Grey turned to pick something up from the countertop behind him. When Grey turned back he was holding a black plastic block between
the thumb and forefinger of both hands.

‘This,’ he announced in a reverential whisper, ‘is what I call the Portable Communication and Image Transference Device.’

Archie studied the object, which was about the size of a pack of playing cards. ‘What does it do?’ he asked.

Grey smiled proudly. ‘This innocuous looking item has the capability of providing telecommunications from anywhere in the world.’

Agent X-ray groaned.

Archie and Barney exchanged confused looks.

‘So,’ said Archie tentatively. ‘It’s a bit like a . . . telephone?’

Holden Grey smiled triumphantly, holding up a single finger. ‘Except that unlike ordinary phones this device has its very own inbuilt power source and needs no physical connection to any
existing telecoms network. It’s completely wireless.’

‘So it’s a
mobile
phone?’ Agent X-ray offered.

Archie slipped his own mobile out of his pocket and held it up. ‘Like this one?’ Grey took it off him and compared it to his much bulkier invention, hefting the two devices in his
hands.

‘Well I never,’ he muttered. ‘Quite extraordinary.’ He handed Archie’s phone back before continuing. ‘However,
my
innovation possesses a brilliant
secret feature. One simple movement and . . .’ With a mysterious glint in his eye, Grey slid back the fascia of his invention. ‘Hey presto, the device transforms into a video camera
capable of recording up to sixty seconds of black and white footage which can easily be transmitted back to HQ by plugging the handset into any personal computer. Now tell me, Mr Hunt, can your
device do
that
?’

‘Actually it can record up to ten minutes of colour video,’ Archie said apologetically. ‘And it can send the film instantly as a text message or email attachment without
plugging into anything.’

‘How very extraordinary. Where did you get it?’ Grey enquired with intrigue.

‘It’s my father’s.’

‘Ah yes – he did his fair share of special ops in his time, didn’t he?’ Grey squinted thoughtfully. ‘Do you know if he picked this up from MOSSAD or the
KGB?’

Archie shrugged. ‘I think it’s from the Carphone Warehouse.’

‘Goodness me,’ exclaimed Holden Grey, with a bemused chuckle. ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? You turn your back on technology for twenty years or so and all of a sudden
you’re out of date. Next you’ll be telling me video recorders are obsolete.’

Archie shuffled nervously. ‘Actually . . .’

‘I’m only joking, Mr – I mean, homie!’ Grey winked at him. ‘I may not know too much about mobile phones but I couldn’t cope without my Sky+ box. I’ll
have you know I’ve never missed an episode of
Antiques Roadshow
yet. And I’ve heard
The Eggs Factor
is heavy too. I must watch that some time – I do love a nice
cookery programme.’

‘You mean
The X Factor
.’ Agent X-ray smiled. ‘And it isn’t exactly about cooking – although, come to think of it, it is full of turkeys.’

Helen Highwater interrupted sharply. ‘Perhaps we could get back to the matter in hand?’

Holden Grey placed the phone on the table in front of him and patted his chest with both palms. At last his eyes lit up and he produced a pen from inside his jacket pocket, handing it to Barney
who examined it eagerly.

‘Let me guess.’ Barney pointed it towards a blank wall, repeatedly clicking the button with his thumb. ‘It fires tiny bullets, doesn’t it? Or little tranquilliser
darts?’

‘We’re too young to carry firearms,’ Agent X-ray pointed out. ‘Government rules.’