Spy Pups Danger Island Read online

  ‘Or an idea that’s so rubbish its time will never come,’ whispered Sophie to her brother.

  As they waited to see the new gadgets, the children and dogs looked at the professor. As always, he was dressed in a white lab coat, his spectacles halfway down his nose. He bent down and addressed the puppies, his eyes twinkling with excitement. ‘I have a couple of inventions I want you to know about. Firstly, and this is the grooviest thing ever,’ said the professor, trying to sound cool, ‘check out these.’ Professor Cortex pulled a small tin from his pocket and rattled it. ‘This will change the world. Follow me, everyone.’

  4. O24U

  The children and dogs trotted behind obediently as the professor strode out of the room and along one of the many long white corridors that made up Spy School. The professor didn’t do ‘slow’ so Ollie had to jog to keep up. Spud and Star’s paws tapped on the tiled floor. They turned left, then right, then right again before the scientist came to a door marked Swimming Pool. Lara sniffed. She could smell the chlorine.

  Professor Cortex put his eye to the identity machine and it scanned his iris. The door swished open and the professor ushered them in.

  ‘Cool,’ said Ollie, ‘are we going for a swim?’

  An Olympic-sized swimming pool lay before them, its surface perfectly smooth.

  ‘What you’re about to see is absolutely top secret,’ said the professor, taking off his coat and undoing his shirt.

  Yikes, thought Star as the old man revealed his hairy chest. Don’t worry, I won’t be telling anyone about that!

  Next, off came his trousers and socks until the professor stood before them in just his Union Jack swimming trunks, which he had put on underneath in preparation for his demonstration.

  Not very cool, thought Lara, eyeing his trunks. No wonder you want to keep them secret.

  ‘Now, time for the invention,’ said the professor. He took the small tin from his coat pocket and opened the lid. The children peered inside.

  ‘Oooh, marbles,’ smiled Ollie. ‘Can I play?’

  Spud wagged enthusiastically. Me too, Prof.

  ‘Aha, young Oliver!’ beamed the professor. ‘Tricked you. They are not marbles, they are oxygen pills. For breathing underwater.’

  Wow, thought Lara. That’s amazing. I could have used those a few times when I was a Spy Dog. If they work, that is!

  ‘Still experimental,’ admitted the professor, taking a red ‘marble’ and popping it into his mouth. ‘But each capsule should provide approximately three minutes of oxygen,’ he said, rolling the capsule around his mouth before swallowing with a big gulp. ‘Allow me to demonstrate.’

  The old man quickly replaced his glasses with special goggles, then turned and walked to the edge of the pool. He raised his arms above his head and pointed his fingers like he’d seen Olympic swimmers do. And then he belly-flopped his pale body into the pool. There was a slap as his tummy hit the water, and the children and dogs approached the edge of the pool to get a closer look. The professor was at the deep end, sitting on the bottom of the pool. He looked up through the water and saw rippled faces looking down. He waved and the children waved back.

  A minute passed. ‘He’s been down there an awfully long time,’ said Sophie.

  ‘But he’s waving again,’ said Ollie, ‘so he must be OK.’

  The seconds ticked by. ‘Here he comes,’ woofed Spud as the professor swam up to the surface. His bald head appeared and he puffed out his cheeks before gulping fresh oxygen. He grinned at the onlookers. He held his wrist to the surface and tapped his watch. ‘Three minutes and forty-two seconds,’ he spluttered. ‘And I could have done more!’

  Ben helped the professor out of the pool.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ he asked excitedly, wiping water from his face.

  ‘Amazing!’ admitted Ollie.

  ‘Thank you, young Oliver,’ beamed the professor. ‘The pills react with the body’s white blood cells to produce oxygen, you see. So, instead of having to breathe you just hold your nose and let your body produce enough oxygen to keep you going. These are low strength. I’m working on a super-strength version that will allow people to stay underwater for hours, maybe even days.’

  ‘Yuck,’ groaned Ollie, ‘you’d be all wrinkly.’

  ‘I’m marketing them as “O24U”,’ grinned the professor.

  Very clever, thought Spud.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ Ollie piped up.

  ‘O2 is the chemical symbol for oxygen,’ explained Sophie. ‘Geddit? Oxygen … for you?’

  Ollie shrugged his shoulders. ‘I think you should call them “fishfood”. That’s better. Then I’d buy them.’

  And what about dogs? thought Lara. Do they work on animals, Prof? she wondered.

  Professor Cortex knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘And the very good news is that they absolutely do work on animals, GM451,’ he nodded. The professor bent down and clipped a small pouch on to Star’s collar. ‘One for you,’ he said, putting an O24U pill into the pouch. ‘And one for you, Agent Spud,’ he added, as the puppy almost wagged himself off his feet. ‘Emergencies only.’

  ‘Thanks, Prof,’ woofed Spud. I hope I get an opportunity to try my new gadget! he thought to himself.

  The children and dogs returned to the professor’s lab and waited while he dried off and got dressed. It wasn’t long before he bounded back into the lab. ‘And just one more invention,’ he beamed. ‘Who wants it?’

  Ollie’s hand was up first. ‘But you don’t even know what it is, Master Oliver,’ chuckled the scientist. ‘Here you go.’ He tossed a small black object to the youngest child. ‘It’s a super-magnet. Obviously, I’ll be calling it a “mega-mag” when it hits the shops. It’s a normal magnet, so sticks to metal objects. Until, that is, you press the red button on the side. Then it will massively increase the magnetism of whatever it’s attached to.’

  Ollie looked puzzled.

  ‘What do we need a giant magnet for, Prof?’ barked Star.

  Professor Cortex could see the confusion on everyone’s faces. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘allow me to demonstrate.’

  Ollie handed the gadget back. The scientist looked around for something metal. ‘See this chair?’ he said. ‘The magnet will stick to the metal frame … like so … and when I press this little red button the whole chair becomes magnetized.’ The professor pressed the button. Nothing happened. The children looked at each other and shrugged. ‘Now, young Oliver, go over to my tool-box and open it.’

  Ollie wandered over to the professor’s tool-box and unclipped the lid. ‘And everyone prepare to duck,’ warned the professor.

  Ollie pulled back the lid and there was a clank of metal as the spanners, screws and bolts hurled themselves out of the box and shot towards the magnetic chair. It was all over in three seconds. Everyone stared at the chair, which had almost disappeared under a weight of metal objects.

  The professor smiled. ‘Not quite sure what the use is yet,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s really great fun! Next time you come, I’ll have that worked out. Now, home-time before Mrs Cook thinks I’ve got you all into another scrape. The pups need to rest before their big day tomorrow.’

  Mum drove the dogs and children home from Spy School. She turned on the radio and sighed at the news report. ‘Have you heard?’ she shouted to the children in the back. ‘Another beach has been wiped out.’

  ‘No way,’ protested Sophie. ‘All those poor fish and birds!’

  ‘Not to mention the hotel owners and all those who rely on tourism,’ agreed Ben. ‘It’s an environmental disaster.’

  ‘We’ve gone from dozens of clean Blue Flag beaches to just three,’ said Mum, navigating the car round a roundabout. ‘Luckily for us, we’re booked in at Pleasure Island Resort, which is one of the clean ones. Touch wood,’ she said, tapping Spud’s head, ‘the “Toxic Terror” will steer clear and we’ll enjoy a fabulously sunny holiday on a beautiful clean island.’

  Lara crossed her paws. A relaxing holiday is just what we all need. I can’t wait to teach the pups how to water-ski.

  Ben, Sophie and Ollie looked at each other. They were looking forward to sun and sand, not an environmental emergency. Each raised their hands and crossed their fingers.

  5. Toxic Terror

  The local residents sat in the town hall. Camera crews were positioned at the back of the room. There was a general air of gloominess. The residents chattered away to each other, complaining about what they’d heard on the news.

  Eventually a senior policewoman stood on stage and the crowd hushed. ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,’ she began. ‘I’d like to extend a warm welcome to the residents of the three remaining Blue Flag beaches in Britain – Pleasure Island,’ she said, looking to her left, ‘and Blue Bay and Sandy Shore,’ she said, looking to the audience on her right.

  ‘We don’t want a warm welcome,’ shouted an angry voice. ‘We want to know what you’re doing about the Toxic Terror.’

  ‘Yes,’ shouted another annoyed voice. ‘What are the police doing to save our beaches from pollution? And our livelihoods?’

  Other people joined in the shouting and the policewoman had to wait a minute to speak again. ‘This emergency meeting is to let you know that we’re doing everything we can to protect your coastline. As you know, this seems to be a systematic attack on the cleanest beaches in Britain. Logic tells us that the attacker – whoever he or she is – will target your towns next.’

  She waited while the uproar calmed down. ‘We don’t know where the oil is coming from. Or how it’s being pumped on to the beaches,’ she admitted. ‘Based on the other beaches, we now know it’s not being washed ashore.
This is a calculated spill. So we’re patrolling the coastline in case it’s coming by ship in the dead of night. And we’ve set up road blocks in case it’s coming by tanker. Whoever is behind the poisoning is clearly very evil …’

  ‘Or very clever,’ piped up an elderly gentleman at the back. ‘This Toxic Terror seems to have outwitted the police for months. I’m the owner of Pleasure Island Resort. My life savings have gone into this island.’ There was a gentle murmuring of agreement from the residents before the old man continued. ‘Surely by now you’ve got more clues?’

  ‘Nothing,’ admitted the policewoman. ‘But you can be sure that we will eventually catch this evil villain,’ she lied. ‘And when we do, they will feel the full force of the law.’

  The meeting broke up and the residents grumbled their way home. The old man stayed behind to chat to the police officer. ‘This evil baddie is turning out to be more of a creative genius, outsmarting you lot,’ he suggested.

  The policewoman rolled her eyes in frustration. ‘Look here, sir,’ she replied. ‘Dozens of the country’s best beaches have been ruined. The ocean polluted. Sea-life killed. Tourism blighted. Coastal towns devastated. Creative genius?’ she laughed. ‘Evil genius is closer to the mark. Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ she huffed, and walked away.

  The old man smiled to himself, then shuffled out of the town hall to his car. His blacked-out windows meant nobody could see him as he clicked the doors locked and turned the rear-view mirror to see his reflection. It really did pain him to smile. His scarred hand went to his face and he felt the deep wrinkles. ‘Evil genius,’ he said, letting the phrase sink in. ‘She says I’m an evil genius.’

  The old man popped out his contact lenses and his red eyes stared back. ‘I may look ninety years old,’ he cackled to himself, ‘but it’s been worth it.’ Jimmy thought back to his last adventure. His evil plan to shoot a hole in the ozone layer had gone horribly wrong. ‘That blasted mutt,’ he cursed, staring into his red-eyed reflection. ‘Spy Dog,’ he spat. ‘And her father! I hope they’re both dead dogs!

  ‘But this new scheme is working out brilliantly. Nobody will suspect that frail old Jimmy, the owner of Pleasure Island Resort, is really the Toxic Terror. When Pleasure Island is the only clean beach left, I’ll be able to raise my prices and charge whatever I want, just like any good businessman would. Little old Jimmy will soon be a multi-billionaire and no one will suspect a thing.’

  Jimmy really did look ninety. He was actually thirty but his skin had been aged terribly by his experiments with the sun’s radiation. Most people would have thought it a high price to pay. But for Jimmy it was worth it. After all, when he was a billionaire he’d pay for the world’s best surgeon to fix his face.

  Jimmy turned the key and the engine roared. He pulled out into the traffic and set off back to Pleasure Island. ‘Two more beaches to go,’ he grinned. ‘Then my resort will be the only place to visit.’ Jimmy’s wrinkled face attempted another smile. ‘And as for the final beach. I think I’ll finish it off in style.’

  6. Star Jumps

  The Cook family and Professor Cortex were waiting anxiously while the puppies completed their warm-up routine. Lara was putting them through their paces. Around them, Britain’s finest military personnel were also warming up. They were dressed in full combat gear, with backpacks and heavy boots. An assault course stretched before them.

  Spud’s tummy was touching the ground as he did his press-ups. And as he watched his sister, he figured ‘Star Jumps’ were named after her. He huffed and puffed his way through his mum’s instructions, almost worn out before the assault course began! In the distance he could see huge fences, water jumps, barbed wire and ditches full of water.

  ‘I did it,’ said Lara, giving her best pep-talk, ‘and the Prof says you can’t graduate to fully fledged “Spy Dog” status unless you complete the course in under thirty minutes. OK?’

  ‘Yes, Mum!’ barked Star, jogging on the spot.

  ‘Er, yes, Ma,’ woofed Spud, ears drooping. ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Teamwork,’ reminded Lara. ‘Some of the barriers require speed of paw,’ she said, casting an eye at Star, ‘and some speed of thought,’ she said, smiling at Spud. ‘And all the obstacles require effort and bravery.’

  ‘And what about these soldiers?’ woofed Star. ‘Do we need to beat them?’

  ‘No,’ said Lara. ‘These guys and girls are the best of the best from the Army, Navy and Air Force. You’re all against the clock, that’s all. Finish in less than thirty minutes, that’s the goal.’

  ‘I don’t think he likes us,’ said Star, glancing at one of the competitors.

  Spud looked up and the man shook a fist at the puppies. ‘I hate dogs,’ he mouthed.

  Lara looked at his uniform and name tag. ‘He’s Lieutenant Black, from the Navy,’ she woofed, glaring at the man. ‘Try not to let him put you off. These people are very competitive. They’d absolutely hate to be beaten by a canine!’

  ‘We’ll do our best, Mum,’ yapped Star, bouncing from side to side with excitement. ‘Let us at ’em!’

  Spud looked over to the start line as the SAS commander, a huge man with bulging arms, stood at the front. ‘Competitors ready?’ he bellowed.

  ‘As I’ll ever be,’ whined Spud under his breath. ‘Remind me to keep away from Black, though!’

  The commander put a whistle to his lips and they were away. Thirty minutes and counting …

  Jimmy approached Pleasure Island Resort and marvelled at his achievement. A gleaming hotel stood in the middle of the island. ‘My island!’ he said as he drove across the bridge. There was an indoor ski dome, amusement arcades, shops, cafes and, best of all, the bluest sky, most golden sand and cleanest beach in the country. Pleasure Island Resort was booked solid for the next twelve months. He’d doubled his prices but bookings kept rolling in – thanks to the Toxic Terror!

  ‘And soon I’ll be doubling prices again,’ he sneered as he pulled his car in to a small bungalow on the island, with a PRIVATE PROPERTY sign outside. He pressed a button on the dashboard and the garage doors hummed open, and then shut once he was inside. Jimmy liked people to think that he lived in a normal house, just like all the visitors who came to spend their money on Pleasure Island. But once inside the garage, he pressed the button again and his car started the journey downwards to his underground bunker.

  7. Water Puppy

  Spud made it through the first part of the course. Star helped him over a high wall and, in turn, he gave her a leg up a rope-ladder. Climbing wasn’t their strongest talent, and things were made worse as the dog-hating Lieutenant Black barged past and nearly knocked Spud off the ladder.

  ‘Careful,’ yapped the pup. ‘I could have been hurt!’ Instead of apologizing, Spud thought he saw the man smile. Next, the puppies had to cross a wobbly rope-bridge. The horrible man deliberately wobbled the bridge as the puppies were halfway across, causing Star to fall and have to start again. Lieutenant Black waved as she fell. ‘See you later, mutt,’ he sneered. ‘There’s no way a dog will ever beat me!’

  By the course’s halfway point, Spud was struggling. His chest was heaving and his doggy limbs aching. He’d just tummy-crawled under some barbed wire and had cut himself. He stopped for a breather and to lick his wound while his sister bounded ahead.

  Before long Star was back, woofing excitedly. ‘Quickly, bro,’ she panted, ‘there’s trouble ahead. Someone’s in a major bother! C’mon, we might be able to help.’

  Spud had a stitch but his sister sounded serious so he sprinted for all he was worth. ‘In there,’ she barked, pointing to a watery ditch. ‘This is the next obstacle. It’s an underwater pipe that we have to swim through … but someone’s stuck, halfway!’

  ‘Yikes!’ yapped Spud. ‘I’m the best swimmer, let me take a look.’ The brave puppy launched himself into the water and paddled forward, his stumpy legs pumping hard. Then he took a deep breath and disappeared.