S.T.I.N.K.B.O.M.B. (5 page)

‘And you do look pretty geeky,’ Barney added helpfully.

‘Yes, thank you.’ Archie laughed. ‘I think most of the kids at this school would love to poke fun at me. An awful lot of them would like to poke a sharp stick at me.’

The changing room fell silent as the rotund figure of Mr Crawley appeared.

‘This is supposed to be a swimming lesson, not a WI meeting,’ he bellowed. ‘Ten extra lengths of butterfly for the last boy in that pool!’

‘I think there’s still a chance you’re being recruited by MI6,’ Barney whispered as they scampered past their swimming coach.

‘Think what you like,’ Archie said, curling his toes over the edge of the pool. ‘I’m not buying it.’

‘He’s not buying it,’ Agent X-ray reported, slouching back in the leather chair in front of Helen Highwater’s desk. ‘He’s going to need
further persuasion.’

‘I think you’d better take a look at this.’ Highwater handed Agent X-ray a sheet of paper. ‘It’s a new message from our Evil Mastermind’s website. It was
posted at lunchtime but it’s only just been decoded – Cipher Branch had to prioritise other tasks apparently.’

The girl scanned the text then looked up anxiously at Highwater and Holden Grey.

‘There’s a time for persuasion and a time for action,’ offered Grey, folding his arms resolutely. ‘And this is definitely one of those times.’

‘Which?’ asked Agent X-ray.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Which one is it a time for?’

‘Do keep up, X-ray. It’s a time for action.’

‘We’ll never get to him in time,’ said Agent X-ray.

‘We won’t, but our boys in blue will,’ Highwater stated.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘It’s for his own protection,’ Highwater said, picking up her phone. ‘But I’m going to have Richard Hunt arrested.’

‘So how was swimming?’ Richard Hunt asked, keeping his eyes trained on the winding road ahead.

‘Fine,’ Archie replied vacantly, fiddling with the stereo in his father’s black Audi A5. Settling for Radio 1, he turned his head and watched the forest whip past the
window.

‘And school?’ Richard tweaked the volume down a couple of notches. ‘Anything exciting happen today?’

Archie wondered if he should mention the girl claiming to be an MI6 agent.

‘Not really,’ he said.

‘What were you doing in maths?’

‘Can’t remember.’

‘What did you get up to at lunchtime?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Have you given much thought to becoming a spy?’ said Richard casually.

Archie jumped. He turned to look at his father, who was concentrating impassively on his driving. Did he know about the girl claiming to be from MI6? Maybe she was genuine after all, and his
father had used his old military contacts to get him recruited. Dismissing this thought immediately, Archie desperately hoped his father hadn’t sussed the embarrassing fact that he was almost
certainly being picked on at school.

‘What do you mean?’ Archie asked innocently, trying to quell the note of panic in his voice.

‘I’ve been interrogating you about your day for the last ten minutes and you’ve given absolutely nothing away.’ Richard smiled briefly. ‘I know plenty of hardened
field agents who would have cracked by now.’

Archie beamed with amusement and relief. ‘Sorry Dad,’ he said. ‘There’s just not much to report. I had double maths followed by double English, lunch on my own –
without talking to anyone at all whatsoever – and in the afternoon I had French and double physics, then swimming. That’s about it.’

Glancing at his son, Richard Hunt said, ‘No more trouble from that Newman boy this week?’

‘Actually . . .’ Archie took a deep breath. ‘The other day after school we did sort of have a bit of a . . . fight.’

‘A fight!’

‘I didn’t start it. He was waiting for Barney and me after class with a gang of his mates. Two of them mashed Barney and Newman attacked me.’

‘Are you OK?’ Archie’s father asked, concerned.

‘Yeah, Dad. I’m fine,’ Archie said. ‘That’s the weird thing. When Newman came at me it was as if some strange force took over my body – like I’d morphed
into the Karate Kid or something. I blocked like a dozen punches, then I flattened him with this awesome kick. It was . . . a bit freaky actually.’

‘Sounds like you need to be careful with your powers,’ Richard said gravely.

‘Powers?’ Archie exclaimed. ‘You make me sound like Clark Kent. All I did was knock over a bully.’

‘Listen, Archie, the likelihood is that you have a natural flair for combat sports,’ Archie’s father said, toggling the gearstick into sixth.

‘What are you saying?’ Archie sniggered. ‘That I was born to be some sort of ninja warrior?’ He started karate-chopping an imaginary opponent. ‘HiiiyAAH!’

‘Sort of,’ Richard replied with a mysterious shrug.

Archie looked at his father, whose eyes remained fixed on the winding road ahead. ‘What makes you say that?’

Richard hunched his shoulders. ‘I have my reasons. If this Newman kid comes after you again – and you really can’t avoid it – don’t think too hard. Just let your
instincts guide you.’

Archie nodded solemnly then, stifling a chuckle, he said, ‘OK, I will try to feel the force, Obi-Wan Kenobi.’

The car crested the brow of a hill and emerged from the shade of the forest into the dazzling glow of the late afternoon sun.

‘Have you been flying today?’ Archie asked at last, keen to move on from their weird conversation.

‘I went up for about an hour – just some aeros for that scientific survey. They called this morning and asked if we could start the study a week early.’ Richard held out his
arm to show Archie the black rubber strap round his wrist. He had volunteered to take part in a two-week clinical study of the physiological effects of high G flying manoeuvres run by the RAF
University Cranfield. As well as the wristbands, which recorded his oxygen levels and blood pressure, he had a heart monitor strapped round his chest and his vital statistics were continuously
being recorded and transmitted to his secure profile on the university website. ‘I pulled four G at the bottom of the loop and negative three rolling off the top,’ he reported, sliding
on a pair of aviator sunglasses.

‘And your old ticker held out OK?’ Archie asked with mock surprise.

‘So far so good,’ Richard laughed, patting his chest.

‘Are we still going flying on Saturday?’ Archie asked.

‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.’ Richard blew some air through his lips and paused. ‘I don’t think it’s going to work out this weekend. It’s
better if we lay off the flying for while.’

Archie felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. ‘Is this because I messed up the spin recovery?’ he asked weakly. ‘I can crack it, I know I can. Just give me one more
chance to show you I’ve learned from what happened the other day.’

‘Listen, all I’m saying–’

‘You think I’m not good enough, is that it?’

‘If anyone ever found out about you flying the Dragonfly I could lose my licence – for good.’

‘I know I let you down the other day but—’

‘Look, I’m just saying we can’t do it this weekend.’

‘But you promised to teach me how to do a Cuban Eight.’

‘Archie, you’re not listening to me.’

‘Mum always said a promise is a promise.’

Richard’s jaw muscles flexed and he inhaled through his nose. ‘Your mother would never have let me start teaching you in the first place, young man,’ he said coldly.

Archie knew from his father’s tone that their discussion was over. Since his mother had died three years ago he felt as if his craving for his father’s approval was stronger than
ever, and that his father had steadily grown more distant.

Archie blipped his window down a few inches and closed his eyes, allowing the cool air to buffet his face. Sulking, he sighed as loudly as he could – twice – thinking about the
verbal exchange he’d just had with his father. His father hadn’t actually agreed that Archie had let him down. But what stuck in Archie’s mind and twisted his gut was that he
hadn’t denied it either.

Then a wailing siren ripped through the tranquil evening. Richard Hunt glanced into his rear-view mirror while Archie turned in his seat to see through the rear windscreen. Flashing its
headlights and approaching at high speed was a navy BMW with blacked-out windows and a blue light rippling along its dashboard.

‘You’ve been busted, Dad,’ said Archie, feeling a strange sense of triumph. ‘How fast were you going?’

Richard checked his speedometer then all three mirrors. ‘No more than fifty.’

Another blast of the siren made Archie turn anxiously in his seat. ‘Er, I’m pretty sure they want you to pull over,’ he observed, spying the BMW through the narrow gap between
his seat and its headrest. The vehicle was now startlingly close, its front grille and bonnet out of view below the Audi’s rear screen.

‘Seriously Dad,’ said Archie, a note of concern registering in his voice. ‘They really want us to stop.’

‘I know, kiddo.’ Archie’s father dropped the clutch and toggled the gearstick into third. Then, with a final glance in his rear-view mirror, he floored the accelerator and the
turbocharged Audi sped away from the BMW like a rocket.

‘Dad! What are you doing?’ demanded Archie as the force of the acceleration thrust him against his seat.

‘Trust me,’ said Richard, paddling his feet on the clutch and accelerator pedals as he negotiated a dipping right-hand bend at ninety miles per hour. ‘I’ll explain
later.’

The BMW responded promptly and powerfully to Hunt’s attempted escape. Within a few seconds it was right on the Audi’s tail again, its siren screaming and lights pulsing.

Coordinating power with swift, aggressive turns of the steering wheel, Archie’s father expertly negotiated a series of tight curves, sliding the Audi sideways through the bends like a
professional rally driver. But when the road opened out into a long stretch, the BMW’s superior straight-line speed was enough to close the gap between the cars.

It’s not slowing down!’ Archie screamed.

Then, with an almighty metallic crunch, the BMW rammed the Audi’s rear end.

‘What are they playing at?’ shouted Archie as his head jerked back against his seat.

‘I don’t know,’ his father said grimly, fighting to stop the Audi’s tail spinning out of control. ‘But I’m not planning on hanging around to find
out.’

The cars raced along, nose to tail, for a few terrifying seconds but eventually the Audi’s superior manoeuvrability paid off and the BMW dropped out of sight in Richard Hunt’s
mirrors.

‘Do you think we lost them?’ asked Archie anxiously.

‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ his father replied, accelerating out of a corner and speeding down a straight cliff-top stretch.

Peering over the back of his seat, Archie spotted a pair of headlights pop over the brow of a distant hump. The BMW scorched over the tarmac like a missile and within a few seconds it had almost
caught them up and, as before, showed no sign of slowing down.

It’s going to ram us again,’ warned Archie, bracing himself in his seat.

But instead of barging the Audi from behind, the BMW swerved into the opposite lane and pulled up alongside it.

Suddenly the BMW cut across the Audi’s path, nudging its nose sideways with the crunch of bending sheet metal. Richard dabbed the brake pedal and waggled the steering wheel to keep the car
straight. The BMW pulled over again and eased back on its speed, dropping back until it was level with the Audi.

‘Why don’t we just stop and explain that we weren’t speeding?’ pleaded Archie.

Richard shook his head. ‘Trust me, that’s exactly what they want us to do. Double-check your seat belt and sit back.’

The two cars raced over the tarmac at terrific speed, only inches apart. Within a few seconds the BMW had pulled ahead again and swerved suddenly to its left. This time it clipped the
Audi’s nose with a hefty thump and the cars ground together with a piercing screech, sending a plume of sparks spewing into the air. Richard tried to hold the Audi straight against the impact
but its back end began to swing out. He spun the wheel frantically to correct it and the tail snapped into line – but only for an instant. As the Audi’s rear swung out the other way,
Archie’s father spun the wheel back but there was nothing he could do to stop the vehicle spinning out of control.

From the moment the car began gliding sideways Archie felt as if everything was happening in slow motion. After a couple of seconds the Audi rotated into an elegant pirouette and the outside
world started spinning round him as if he was on a merry-go-round.

Even when the car flipped on to its roof and the contents of the glovebox and the door pockets rattled around the cabin, Archie was overcome with an eerie sense of calm.

The Audi tumbled and twisted, bouncing from its roof to its side again and again. Archie was aware of metal bending and glass shattering and knew he was thrashing about in his seat but he felt
no emotion in response to the carnage around him – it was as if he was watching the events play out on TV. He didn’t notice his father’s flailing hand punch the button on his
seat-belt buckle, clicking it open.