The Great Brain Robbery (17 page)

‘Just one second . . .’ Wes replied, tapping away furiously.

‘No, really!’ squeaked Timmy, turning pale. ‘We have to go! Right now!’ But Wes wouldn’t be torn away from the keyboard. He was almost there . . . almost there . .
.

‘And . . . it’s . . . DONE!’ he cried. ‘OK. Let’s get out of here!’

But it was too late.

The doorway darkened. There was no way out. Marvella’s henchmen, Donner and Blitzen, stormed in and seized a child in each of their massive fists. Frankie kicked and wriggled in panic as
the guards hauled them down to an underground car park and tossed them into the back of a waiting van. Frankie saw that there was somebody in the driver’s seat.

‘Help! Help us!’ he yelled, rattling the bars that separated him from the driver. But the driver was doing no such thing. He turned his head to inspect his captives with his strange
yellow eyes. His moustache twitched with amusement. It was Dr Calus Gore.

The children howled and hammered on the doors with their fists as the van screeched out of the car park and sped off down the motorway.

‘Where are you taking us!’ yelled Neet.

‘Ah ha!’ grinned Dr Gore, as if he were planning a lovely surprise. ‘That is for me to know and for you to find out. Don’t be so impatient, Miss Banerjee.’

Frankie stared through the cloudy windows at the back of the van, wondering if he could smash through them. But it was useless. Even if he could, they would only end up splat in the middle of
the motorway. Frankie felt a wave of despair rising in his throat.

But then he heard a sound he knew only too well. At that moment it was the most wonderful sound in the world – the ferocious growl of a motorbike engine. Frankie pressed his nose to the
glass. A few hundred yards behind them, a large black bike roared into view. Alphonsine, Eddie and Colette were on their tail and catching up fast. The children all glued themselves to the window,
yelling and waving frantically. Yes! Alphonsine had seen them and gave them a sly wink from behind her goggles. But Gore had seen her too. He put his foot on the gas and swerved left and right
through the traffic, chuckling like a demented chipmunk.

‘Just you wait!’ Neet yelled, as she was hurled from one side of the van to another. ‘Alphonsine won’t listen to any of your nonsense!’

‘Oh I’m not worried about that old handbag,’ sneered Dr Gore, his mouth turning sourly at the corners like the skin of a dried lemon.

‘What do you mean?’ said Frankie, feeling a strange sense of dread spreading through his limbs.

‘I thought she might be sticking her old proboscis in,’ the scientist sighed. ‘So I had Rudolph do a little work on that banger of hers. Simple little trick – if her
motorbike goes over seventy miles per hour, its tyres will burst.’ He made a small exploding gesture with his fingers. ‘POP!’

The friends all gasped in horror.

‘You’re crazy!’ shouted Neet, flinging herself at the bars with rage. ‘Completely bonkers!’

Dr Gore chuckled. ‘Perhaps you’re right, Miss Banerjee.’ Then his grin turned into a steely snarl as he pushed his foot down on the pedal.

Frankie started to panic. He could see the trembling needle of the speedometer creeping slowly upwards as they approached a high bridge over a wide, cold river. Sixty-six . . . Sixty-seven . . .
Sixty-eight . . .

Frankie flew to the back of the van and started signalling wildly for Alphonsine to slow down. Alphonsine and Eddie looked back at him with puzzled expressions. Only Colette seemed to
understand. The white pom-pom on the end of her tail stopped wagging. She looked up at Alphonsine with two wet eyes and howled for all she was worth. But it was too late.

As they struck out across the bridge, Frankie heard a chilling bang. Then everything seemed to move in slow motion. Alphonsine’s bike spun out of control and, as Frankie looked helplessly
on, it lurched over the edge of the bridge and disappeared from view.

Frankie felt as if he had been plunged underwater. His vision went blurry, his ears seemed blocked off and he couldn’t breathe.

‘They’ll be OK . . .’ Neet stammered, not knowing what else to say. ‘You know Alphonsine. They’ll have swum to safety. I’m sure . . .’
Frankie nodded silently and squeezed her hand. He couldn’t bear to think about it.

The van stopped sharply, throwing the children to the floor. The two henchmen bundled them out of the back and dumped them on the ground like a pile of bin bags. Frankie sniffed. His nostrils
filled with sharp, salty air. Sea air. Looking up, he saw the sides of ships, glaring white in the morning sun. They were at the docks. Large liners were ploughing in and out of the deep, watery
bays while cranes swerved slowly overhead, transporting cargo to the waiting vessels. Frankie sat up and saw that they were surrounded by stacks of steel containers, each of which was stamped with
the huge, grinning face of Teddy Manywishes. Frankie shook his head in dismay. The Marvella corporation was preparing to send its mind-mashing toys all around the world. Frankie looked at the sides
of ships – India, China, Australia, the USA. Nowhere was safe.

‘What are we doing here?’ demanded Neet crossly, jumping to her feet and dusting herself off.

‘Temper, temper, Miss Banerjee!’ Gore smirked. ‘I’m sending you all on a little cruise.’ Donner and Blitzen sniggered like a pair of mutts.

‘But I don’t want to go on a cruise!’ Timmy panicked. ‘I want to go home! I want to go home!’

Dr Gore rolled his yellow eyes. ‘Don’t be such moaning minnies,’ he snapped. ‘You’ll have a splendid time. But do watch out for the polar bears, they are a little
grouchy at this time of year.’

‘P-p-polar bears?’ Wesley stuttered. ‘You mean, you’re sending us to the Arctic?’

‘Bravo, Master Jones!’ smirked Gore. ‘You always were the clever one. Yes indeed, I am sending you to the Arctic. Seeing as you are all incapable of staying out of my way, I
shall have to dispose of you along with the other toxic waste.’ Dr Gore gestured towards a nearby ship that was loading up with dirty-looking containers full of the filth and rubbish from
Marvella’s factories.

‘But . . . but we’ll freeze to death!’ Wesley stammered.

‘Or we’ll be eaten by killer whales!’ Neet howled.

‘Well, children,’ smiled the crazy old scientist as if he were giving them a sermon, ‘that will teach you a valuable lesson, won’t it? Good children get presents, naughty
children get eaten by whales. Such is life.’

The ship’s horn gave a long, loud blast. Frankie looked wildly about him for an exit route, but they were blocked in by containers and closely guarded by Donner and Blitzen.
If only
Alfie and Eddie were here
, he thought to himself.
They’d know what to do
. Frankie strained his ears, hoping against hope that he would hear the sound of a distant motorbike. But
all he heard was the croaking of seagulls and the creak of cranes. Frankie’s heart felt as heavy as a stone . . . until . . .

Wait . . .

Listen . . .

Frankie wondered if it was his desperate imagination. But no. He heard something in the distance. It wasn’t a motorbike, but he could definitely hear something. Something coming steadily
closer. Something unstoppable. Frankie held his breath and glanced across at Wes. Wes was smiling faintly. It looked like their plan was beginning to work.

‘Throw them in with the cargo,’ snapped Dr Gore.

Donner and Blitzen hoisted all four children off the ground and started to march them towards the gaping black mouth of the cargo hold. The friends shouted and squirmed.

‘I don’t want to go to the Arctic!’ Timmy bawled hysterically. ‘I left my mittens at home! I’ll catch a cold! Heeeeeeeeelp!’

Then, suddenly, the guards stopped in their tracks. They turned and looked about them, sniffing the air like a pair of nervous bison.

‘Stop dawdling!’ snapped Dr Gore. ‘Throw them in the cargo hold, chop-chop.’ But then Dr Gore heard what they were hearing. His tufty ears pricked up in alarm. They could
all hear it. Nearer and nearer, closer and closer – the march of thousands of mechanical feet.

Donner and Blitzen didn’t hang about. They dropped the children like hot potatoes, raced to the van and roared away in a billow of dust, leaving Dr Gore to fend for himself. Gore’s
eyes flashed around him like torch-beams.

‘What’s going on?’ he shrilled. ‘What have you done this time, Blewitt?’ The sound of footsteps grew louder and louder and the air was filled with a distinctive
series of pips and bleeps. Then they arrived. From every direction, from every corner, dozens and dozens of Mechanimals. Sparky the Squirrels, Gigawatt the Gila Monsters, Gadget the Rabbits –
and they were all homing in on Dr Gore.

‘What the devil?’ Dr Gore spluttered in alarm.

‘They’ve been reprogrammed . . .’ Frankie shouted over the clamour, ‘. . . to recognise
you
. They think you’re their owner now.’

‘That’s right,’ yelled Neet. ‘You’re their new best friend and they’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. Whether you like it or not!’

Suddenly the steel containers started to rattle and shake. Dozens of new Mechanimals were tearing themselves out of their packaging and crawling robotically towards their target.

‘Get them away from me!’ Gore yelled. The Mechanimals’ mind-sweepers were switched on and they were aiming directly at Dr Gore’s enormous forehead.

‘Keep them away from my brain!’ The scientist tried to make a dash for it but every way was blocked. He was completely surrounded by the advancing toys.

Dr Gore was panicking like a snake in a sack.

‘Turn them off!’ he shouted. ‘Take their batteries out!’

But Frankie and his friends stayed right where they were. The Mechanimals wobbled robotically forward, chanting in their high, tinny voices,
‘Caaaaluuus! Caaaaaaluuus! Be my
frieeeeeend!’

‘Waaaagh!’ yelled the scientist, backing himself into a corner. Seeing that his threats weren’t working, he tried another strategy. ‘Children, children!’ he
pleaded. ‘You’re making a big mistake here. You’re missing a huge opportunity. We could work together! Think of all the extra pocket money you could make! And the freebies!
You’ll have freebies coming out of your ears! Just turn off those blasted chunks of plastic!’

‘No way!’ Frankie shouted back. ‘You’ve done enough harm as it is. It’s about time somebody gave
your
mind a makeover!’

Dr Gore saw that the doors to one of the waste containers stood ajar. Quick as a bobcat, he hurled himself inside and slammed the doors shut behind him. Frankie saw his chance. No sooner had the
doors closed than he lunged towards the large steel bolt and shoved it across.

‘Bleeeeewittt!’ shrieked the scientist, immediately realising that he was locked in. ‘Banerjeeeeee!’

‘Look out!’ Neet shouted. Frankie heard a loud whirring of gears and clanking of chains. A crane dangled its giant mechanical claw overhead. Frankie dived out of the way as it
grasped hold of the steel box containing Dr Gore, winched it high up in the air and swung it out over the water towards the waiting ship.

‘Wooooooooh!’ Dr Gore yelled from inside the container. ‘Let me out! Let me out! I’ll be nice! I promise! I’ll be good! Oooooh, it’s dark in here!’

. . . But only the seagulls could hear him.