Mummy Madness Read online

  Contents

  1. HAPI Days

  2. The Legend of the Nile Ruby

  3. Crazy Dez

  4. ‘Titchology’

  5. A Random Act of Evil

  6. Dead Easy!

  7. The Living Dead

  8. Mission Impossible?

  9. Terror Thomas

  10. The All-seeing Eye

  11. Museum Mayhem

  12. Buying Time

  13. A Cunning Disguise

  14. Off with his Head?

  15. A Very Slow Getaway

  16. A HAPI Ending

  17. An Even Happier Ending

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Picture the scene: I’m at the RSPCA, choosing a dog.

  ‘And what kind of dog are you looking for, sir?’

  My eyes are shining. ‘A secret agent,’ I say, grinning with excitement. ‘A dog that’s capable of defeating evil baddies. One that can drive a car and surf the web. And it needs to be pretty useful in hand-to-hand combat, maybe a black belt,’ I say, demonstrating by punching the air. ‘Needs to look cool in shades too.’

  The RSPCA lady mouths something under her breath which I don’t quite catch. She thinks for a while before flashing me a polite smile. ‘We’re all out of those, sir. How about this one?’ She points to a black and white mongrel whose sad face shows no sign of intelligence and who couldn’t fight its way out of a wet paper bag. ‘She’s called Lara. Interesting ears.’

  My heart sinks. ‘OK,’ I sigh. ‘I’ll use my imagination.’

  Books by Andrew Cope

  Spy Dog series in reading order

  SPY DOG

  CAPTURED!

  UNLEASHED!

  SUPERBRAIN

  ROCKET RIDER

  SECRET SANTA

  TEACHER’S PET

  ROLLERCOASTER!

  BRAINWASHED

  MUMMY MADNESS

  Spy Pups series in reading order

  TREASURE QUEST

  PRISON BREAK

  CIRCUS ACT

  DANGER ISLAND

  SURVIVAL CAMP

  Spy Cat series in reading order

  SUMMER SHOCKER

  BLACKOUT!

  SPY DOG JOKE BOOK

  For my favourite wife

  1. HAPI Days

  The children loved it when Professor Cortex came over to their house. But it was even more special when they visited him in his secret laboratory.

  Lara, her puppies and the children sat in the reception area, sipping their milkshakes. The professor had issued instructions that they were to try his newly invented flavours while they waited. Ben and Sophie were sucking up mouthfuls of ‘bread & butter’ flavour. Ollie was noisily hoovering up the last of his ‘tea & biscuit’. All three dogs had gone for ‘fish ’n’ chip’ milkshakes, with Spud eyeing up ‘bangers & mash’ to try next.

  ‘Not bad,’ woofed Lara to the pups. ‘And an interesting break with tradition to have savoury milkshakes. Perfect for pets. I can see these flying off the supermarket shelves!’

  If there was a competition for the ‘cleverest person on the planet’, Professor Maximus Cortex would be the outright winner. He was in charge of the government’s top-secret Spy School and spent a great deal of his time doing whacky research. He’d come to love Ben, Sophie and Ollie over the years. They’d provided a home for his greatest-ever achievement. And here she was, tail swishing and a silly doggie grin spread across her face.

  ‘GM451,’ beamed the professor, swooping through the door. ‘Good to see you again. And Agents Star and Spud. I trust you’re keeping the town clear of crime?’

  Reported crime down 68 per cent, thought Lara. Burglaries down 80 per cent. No reported shoplifting and last quarter’s mugging statistics were zero.

  ‘We need to get my finest canine agents up to speed with the latest inventions. You can never be too careful,’ he said, tapping the side of his nose and spooking the children. ‘Enemies are everywhere,’ he said, eyebrow raised, eyes darting left and right.

  Ollie, the youngest of the three, followed the professor’s eyes, looking round the room for suspicious people. ‘I don’t think there are any baddies in here,’ he smiled. ‘Just me and my brother and sister. And our doggies.’

  ‘And can you stop calling Lara “GM451”?’ nagged Sophie. ‘She’s not a spy any more, Professor. She’s retired, OK? And she’s our family pet. And, even more importantly, she’s got pups of her own.’

  Nice one, Soph, thought Lara. It’s always good to remind the mad prof that his first-ever ‘Licensed Assault and Rescue Animal’, LARA, is officially an ex-Spy Dog. No need for code names any more.

  ‘Old habits and all that,’ flustered the professor. ‘GM451 might have retired, but her enemies most certainly haven’t. Which is why we need to keep you all up to speed.’

  Spud had spied an open packet of digestive biscuits in the professor’s pocket. I’d like to be kept up to speed with those, he thought, his tail swishing in excitement. In Spud’s world gadgets were cool, but food was always his top priority. Spud’s motto was that a canine agent operates best on a full tummy. ‘You never know where your next meal’s coming from,’ he explained to his sister. ‘So I’m always on full alert. For food!’

  Star was more of an all-action hero. While her brother had a roly-poly puppy look about him, she was slimline and fit. Her black and white fur shone and her eyes glistened. Star listened intently as the white-coated professor went about his business.

  ‘Right, follow me, team, I have something exciting to show you,’ he said.

  The dogs and children hurried along behind the scientist. They trotted behind his billowing coat as he marched down endless white corridors. The professor stopped abruptly at a door that was being guarded by a burly man dressed in black.

  ‘Cool shades,’ whispered Ben out of the side of his mouth. ‘But why’s he wearing them indoors?’

  ‘Agent T,’ said the professor, ‘I’d like to introduce you to our visitors. Would you please open the door and accompany us into the top-secret laboratory?’

  Agent T pressed some numbers on a control pad and the door slid open. The small troop entered the lab and the door swished shut, Agent T guarding the exit.

  Cooool, thought Lara, scanning the room, taking in the bubbling potions and whiteboards full of equations. I’m glad he’s on our side! I shudder to think what would happen if the professor’s brainpower fell into the wrong hands.

  ‘Inventions,’ grinned the professor, sweeping his hand round the room. ‘This is where ideas get transferred from here,’ he said, jabbing a finger at his head, ‘to here,’ he said, holding up a test tube of purple liquid. ‘How did you get on with my new milkshakes?’

  ‘Yummy,’ grinned Ollie.

  ‘Excellent,’ beamed the professor. ‘This one’s in development.’ He pointed at a formula scribbled on the board. ‘Frogs’ legs flavour,’ he said. ‘It has a very interesting taste. But I’m also thinking of crisps,’ he added, peering over the top of his spectacles. ‘Gap in the market, you see. Nobody’s doing frogs’ legs crisps.’

  Spud’s ears stood to attention. Cool idea, Prof!

  Sophie shuddered. ‘I think you’ll find there’s a reason for that, Professor,’ she said, crinkling her nose up at the idea. ‘Frogs’ legs are yukky!’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ tutted the professor as if the idea had never crossed his mind. ‘Maybe we’ll aim it at the, erm, continental market?’

  ‘What’s that formula over there?’ asked Ben, pointing at a sequence of letters and shapes that took up an entire wall.

  ‘That one’s not exactly new,’ the professor mused, ‘more a development of an earlier prototype.’ He pointed to a Bunsen burner heating a bottle of the purple liquid. ‘I distil this little brew,’
he smiled, ‘into these marvellous crystals.’ He held up a small jar. ‘And, I have to tell you, this is the most fun you can have in a secret laboratory.’

  Ben looked confused. ‘What’s fun about a few crystals?’

  ‘These little beauties,’ said the professor, holding up the jar so everyone could see, ‘will bring humour to any situation.’

  ‘I don’t get it,’ chirped Sophie.

  ‘Well,’ mused the scientist, ‘you’ve probably heard of laughing gas. It’s all rather complex, but, to cut a long story very short, I’ve worked out that it’s the interconnectedness of the amygdala and hypothalamus that allows the prefrontal part of the hippocampus to create meta-programmes that accentuate the …’

  Professor Cortex stopped and observed the children’s glazed eyes. ‘I’m doing it again, aren’t I?’ he smiled.

  ‘Ollie’s six, Prof,’ said Ben. ‘Keep it simple.’

  ‘Quite,’ nodded the scientist, pushing his spectacles back up his nose. ‘I’ve analysed the part of the brain that creates laughter,’ he continued. ‘And these crystals scramble the emotional part of the brain to convert all emotions to “hilarious”. So the person experiences an acute sense of humour. Anything and everything is funny. And I’m not talking “mildly amusing”, I’m talking “side-splittingly hilarious”. I call them HAPI crystals. Hyper Acute Positive Intervention,’ coughed the professor, beaming over the top of his spectacles. ‘Do you see what I did there? I took the H from Hyper and the A from …’

  ‘We get it, Prof,’ interrupted Ben. ‘HAPI. Very good.’

  ‘Everything?’ asked Ollie. ‘You said everything is funny.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ assured the professor. ‘All you have to do is drop a few crystals on the floor and grind them in with your foot. They release gas, you see, which seeps into your nervous system to create laughter. And not just a small chuckle. We’re talking laughter until it hurts. Agent T had to attend a funeral last week and we tested the capsules under extremely sad conditions.’

  Agent T nodded, recalling the hilarity of the church service.

  ‘The vicar laughed so much he pulled a muscle in his stomach. Isn’t that right, Agent T?’

  ‘Affirmative, sir,’ nodded the man from behind his dark glasses. ‘And one of the family was laughing so hard that they fell into the grave, sir,’ he reminded the professor. ‘It’s on YouTube, sir.’

  ‘Indeed it is,’ nodded the professor. ‘And you wet yourself, Agent T. During the vicar’s speech. Isn’t that correct?’

  The man in the dark suit twitched as he recalled the embarrassment.

  ‘It’s great at disabling baddies,’ explained the scientist. ‘But I see a big commercial market for it. I might have to reduce the strength of the formula to give it more mass appeal,’ he thought aloud. ‘But everyone wants to be happier, right? And laughing is good for you. So why not introduce more laughter into your life?’

  ‘But,’ noted Sophie, ‘aren’t funerals supposed to be sad? Isn’t that the point? Is it appropriate to chuckle your way through such a serious and important occasion?’

  ‘Details, details,’ dismissed the professor, swishing his hand at Sophie. ‘I’ll work it out after we’ve experimented. In the meantime, Benjamin, take this packet of crystals and use them wisely.’ He handed Ben a small package. ‘Emergencies only,’ he winked. ‘Because, after all, you never know when adventure will strike.’

  2. The Legend of the Nile Ruby

  EGYPT, JULY 1953

  The sun was relentless and their rations were low. A dashing young man removed his sweat-stained hat and mopped his forehead. He consulted the old map one last time. It was yellowed and crinkled but still legible. His finger traced the route they’d taken. The dotted line showed they’d trekked 103 miles west of the Egyptian capital. The pyramids had been left far behind.

  ‘Everyone’s looking there,’ he reminded his father. ‘A seething mass of tourism and tomb robbers.’

  His father’s eyes sparkled with excitement. He squinted at the map and nodded. Before they’d set off from Cairo, they’d heard that yet another part of the Great Pyramid had been raided. ‘They’ve taken everything,’ he muttered. ‘The looters are destroying ancient history. The pharaohs knew. That’s why they made the pyramids so big. The may as well have put a sign, with a huge arrow, saying: “Jewels buried here. Break in and help yourselves.”’

  The men pored over the map one last time. ‘Not far now,’ said the younger of the two, pointing to the picture of caves on the map. ‘The final resting place of Pharaoh Qua’a and the real Egyptian treasure.’

  The older man grinned, his blackened teeth showing through his bushy beard. He’d spent fifty years exploring Egyptian tombs with no reward. And then he’d discovered this map and the black book that came with it. He and his son were the only two people on the planet to know the secret of the ancients – that the pyramids were a big, fat decoy. The pharaohs built huge pyramids to attract thieves. But all they really held were worthless treasures that would throw the tomb robbers off the scent.

  The biggest and most precious of all Egyptian treasures was actually buried 103 miles away. Great care had been taken to hide the Nile Ruby in the most unmemorable place imaginable. Who would ever think of looking for the world’s most precious gem in a tunnel at the back of a cave? One hundred miles of sand and rock in every direction. Even if people found the cave, the ancients had gone to great trouble to make sure that the tunnel would never be discovered.

  And when the pharaoh died there was a grand ceremony in Cairo and a body was hidden in the Great Pyramid. But, as the father and son now knew, it was a body. Not the body. Nobody had ever found Qua’a. ‘Because,’ as the old man explained, ‘the body had been secretly taken from Cairo and hauled by camel to the caves. Only one man knew. The trusted servant, who was to die with the pharaoh, sealing himself in from inside the tunnel. And the skeleton of that loyal servant will still be there, guarding his master.’

  The servant’s only son had inherited the map. He could neither read nor write and the map passed down through the generations until it found itself on sale in a Cairo market.

  ‘Three thousand years later and here we are,’ announced the old man, pointing at the heap of grey rocks standing out in the yellow sand. A sandstorm was whipping up around them. He licked a finger and flipped a page in the book. ‘Exactly as described,’ he yelled through the gathering storm.

  He and his son staggered into the cave, delighted to be out of the stinging sand. It was eerily quiet. The old man took a handkerchief from his pocket and blew out a noseful of sand. The younger man struck a long match and cupped the light in his hand. His father pulled a candle from his backpack and the cave was lit with an eerie glow. Shadows danced on the cave ceiling. The men made their way to the back of the cave and the young man stretched his arm towards the wall. ‘What is it I’m looking for again?’

  His father tapped the black book. ‘Man with dog’s head,’ he reminded his son. ‘Qua’a’s sign.’

  The young man swished the candle across the back of the cave. ‘Nothing,’ he said, looking disappointed. ‘Wait!’ he yelled. ‘What’s this?’ He rubbed the cave wall with his sleeve and drew the candle nearer. He turned to his father. ‘Man with dog’s head! The legend is true. Qua’a was here!’

  3. Crazy Dez

  Hurtmore was what all high-security prisons should be: tall, grey and serious. There had been several escape attempts, but only one success. And even that hadn’t lasted long: Mr Big was back inside again and security had been upped from ‘maximum’ to ‘ultra’. The old prison chief had been replaced, as had Mr Big’s bars. Spy Dog had been consulted when they designed the ultra-security features. After all, she was the agent who was most familiar with the workings of Mr Big’s evil mind. The bars were now twice as thick and electric fences had been erected in front of and behind the twenty-metre-high walls. There were huge spikes on top, just to make sure. As the prison chief had explained whe
n Big had been recaptured, ‘Nothing’s too much trouble for you, Big.’

  The world’s nastiest criminal shared a cell with an old man. The prison governor had been very careful whom to select. Most of the officers considered the old man to be mad. He was frail so would do Big no harm and, it was hoped, Big would see no reason to hurt him either. And, in a strange code of conduct, the prison boss had realized that the world’s most evil criminal did observe one rule. He respected his elders.

  So the odd couple shared a cell. Big would brag about his crimes and tell tales of a nutty professor, some meddling kids and a dratted dog. ‘Lost an eye, my teeth and a leg because of that dog. They had to rebuild me.’ He looked around at the bars on his window. ‘This place can’t hold me,’ he bragged. ‘And when I’m out the dog will be no more. “Spy Dog” they call her. “Dead dog” more like.’

  And, in return, the old man would babble about Egypt. And mummies. And Mr Big would listen politely to the white-haired old man, even if the story was the same every night. ‘Yes, yes,’ he’d sigh. ‘The pyramids are a decoy. And you and your dad found the tomb … blah blah blah.’

  ‘And can you keep a secret?’ hissed the wizened old man, his eyes staring crazily. ‘I’ve worked it out! The whole mystery is unravelled. The legend of the Nile Ruby! It’s true! I know where it is.’

  ‘Here you go again,’ sighed Mr Big. ‘It’s written in the stars. You’re a bit like a broken record. Now don’t get me wrong, old boy, you’re a nice fella and all that – remind me a bit of my own pa. He was a bit confused too. The Nile Ruby? Egypt?’ Mr Big shook his head. ‘Look around you. Check out the view from your window. It ain’t Egypt out there. It’s a maximum-security prison. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the truth is that you’re stuck in here till the day you die.’