Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang (5 page)

Jacob Two-Two awakened with a bounce and was actually singing when a guard called Mr. Fox, an enormous fellow, wearing a fur coat, scarf, and ear-muffs, came to fetch him and led him to a door
marked
FREEZER
. “You’ll have to have a shower in here,” he said, “before we can issue you with a prison uniform.”

When Jacob Two-Two emerged from the shower, trembling with cold, Mr. Fox shoved a towel at him, saying, “Hurry, I’m prone to chills.” Then, narrowing his eyes, he added, “Hey, you haven’t washed behind your ears.”

“I have,” said Jacob Two-Two. “I have.”

“Then what’s this?” asked Mr. Fox, plucking out the supersonic bleeper.

“Nothing,” said Jacob Two-Two. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Why, look here,” said Mr. Fox, holding it to the light, “it’s a precious stone. I’ll have it, then. Thank you very much.”

Jacob Two-Two kicked, he punched, and he bit, but he couldn’t recover the supersonic bleeper. Indeed, all he earned for his effort was a bruised cheek, before Mr. Fox gathered him up and flung him back into his cell.

Lying on the stone floor, Jacob Two-Two sobbed. He sobbed and sobbed, until suddenly he realized he was being foolish, for it didn’t matter one bit that
Mr. Fox had stolen his bleeper. Child Power would still track it to the hidden prison and set everybody free.

Mr. Fox appeared again. “We’re having a party in the dining hall tonight,” he said. “You’re invited.”

Some party. There were no balloons, no loot-bags, and no ice cream. Even so, Jacob Two-Two was delighted to be led finally into the dining hall, if only to enjoy the company of other little people, boys and girls, who, like Jacob Two-Two himself, were still unable to ride a two-wheel bicycle, dial a telephone number, whistle, do joined-up writing, play checkers, or catch a ball. So many of them, too! Jacob Two-Two hadn’t realized until now that there were something like two hundred other boys and girls being held in the prison. All of them dressed in itchy, ill-fitting, gray prison uniforms, their faces pale, circles under their eyes, because on Slimers’ Isle they never, never saw the sun.

Jacob Two-Two was seated between two other boys, one called Pete, and the other, Oscar. He liked them both immediately. But before he could ask them any questions, a menu was placed before them. It read:

“Whatever you do,” warned Pete, “don’t take the electric eel soup.”

“Why?” asked Jacob Two-Two. “Why?”

“Because,” said Oscar, “it’s shocking.”

At another long table, Jacob Two-Two noticed a little boy crying. A girl, maybe four years old, kept calling, “I want my mommy.” Oscar looked sad. So
did Pete. And Jacob Two-Two was bursting to tell them about his supersonic bleeper and how all their troubles would soon be over, because any day now the leaders of Child Power, the fearless O’Toole and the intrepid Shapiro, would track them down and liberate everybody. But before he could whisper his secret, all the other children began to shriek, some even hiding their eyes, as the dreaded Hooded Fang padded into the dining hall, growling and baring his fangs. Suddenly, The Hooded Fang frowned. “I know my audience,” he bellowed. “I’ve got antennas. There’s a little stinker in here somewhere who isn’t trembling for me. Would he please stand up?”

Jacob Two-Two was about to rise, but Oscar held him down on one side, and Pete on the other.

“If you’re not afraid,” Oscar whispered, “you must pretend.”

But it was too late. The Hooded Fang was already upon them, glaring down at Jacob Two-Two.

“So it’s you, is it, Two-Two? I’ll soon fix that. But first,” he said, striding to the raised platform at the head of the dining hall, children scattering left and right as he passed, “I must tell all of you why we are
here tonight. We are here to honor Mr. Fox and present him with this month’s Rotten-to-Children Award. And, furthermore, I must tell you that as Mr. Fox has been so splendidly cruel here, so rough and tough with little brats, he is being promoted. Mr. Fox will be leaving us. He’s going to London. Undercover work. An entirely new division.” Here The Hooded Fang paused, his smile vile. “
Toy Shop Sabotage
.”

Going to London?
Heedless of any danger to himself, Jacob Two-Two raced to Mr. Fox’s side and tugged urgently at his sleeve. “When are you leaving?” he demanded. “When are you leaving?”

“Why, tonight,” said Mr. Fox, beaming as he flashed the supersonic bleeper at Jacob Two-Two, “tonight, right after the party.”

“Then give me back my bleeper right now,” cried Jacob Two-Two twice.

In reply, Mr. Fox shook with laughter and gave Jacob Two-Two a shove, sending him sprawling.

I have failed everybody
, thought Jacob Two-Two, and that night he wept fresh hot tears on the cold floor of his cell. For now he knew that the fearless O’Toole
and the intrepid Shapiro would never, never find him. He was condemned to linger in the hidden prison for two years, two months, two weeks, two days, two hours and two minutes.

CHAPTER 9

eanwhile, in the Child Power tent, under the shade of the copper beech tree, the fearless O’Toole paced the floor, his cape hanging limp. The intrepid Shapiro sat at her desk, holding her head in her hands.

“If you won’t say it, I will,” said Shapiro. “We’re up the creek without a paddle.”

“Poor little Jacob Two-Two.”

To begin with, the Child Power receiver in the tent had picked up definite bleeps, tracking them to the outskirts of the fog country, when suddenly everything had gone haywire. The signals were lost.

O’Toole searched, Shapiro cogitated, but again and again they came up with nothing.

Then, two days later, the intrepid Shapiro burst in on the fearless O’Toole, enormously excited, and insisted that she had picked up the supersonic bleeps in the West End of London.

“Why, that’s crazy,” said the fearless O’Toole.

But they had to pursue every lead. And so, off they ran, through Hyde Park, around Piccadilly Circus, and into the gigantic toy shop of Regent Street that had always been their favorite. The fearless O’Toole followed the intrepid Shapiro to the second floor, through a door and into the packing room, where a jolly fat man sang as he fiddled with boxes of jigsaw puzzles. No sooner did the fat man espy the intrepid Shapiro and fearless O’Toole than he leaped back from the boxes, dropping several pieces of jigsaw on the floor.

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” he said quickly.

“But nobody said you were,” said the intrepid Shapiro.

The fat man, who wore dark glasses, kept to the shadows. Eyeing the young intruders suspiciously, he sang out, “Care for a sweet?”

The intrepid Shapiro hesitated.

“Here,” said the fat man, offering a chocolate to the fearless O’Toole, “have this.”

Suddenly, the fearless O’Toole grasped the man’s hand and shouted for the intrepid Shapiro. “Look here,” he said. “Quick.”

It was the supersonic bleeper, set in a ring on the old man’s finger.

“Where did you get it?” demanded the intrepid Shapiro.

“Well,” said the fat man, “one day, fishing in the Thames, below Richmond, I caught me a lovely plump trout, of all unlikely things, and no sooner did he land on the bank, flipping and flopping, than he coughed up this precious stone. Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

The fearless O’Toole’s eyes filled with tears. The intrepid Shapiro bit her lip.

“Oh my,” the fat man called back after the retreating Infamous Two, “did I say anything to distress you?”

The intrepid Shapiro was too upset to answer.

“Come and visit me again. Ask for me at the door any time. My name is Fox. Mr. Fox. I love children.”

Outside, Shapiro said, “Obviously, Jacob Two-Two was drowned while trying to escape.”

“Poor Jacob Two-Two,” said O’Toole.

CHAPTER 10

ay by day Jacob Two-Two grew thinner, in spite of the chocolate bars and occasional bag of gumdrops that continued to turn up so mysteriously in his cell, each time with a note enclosed–

With Oscar and Pete, members of his work gang, Jacob Two-Two worked very, very hard indeed, mostly at the fog-making workshop attached to the prison. The fog, Jacob Two-Two discovered, was manufactured by the perfidious Slimers to keep the children’s prison safely hidden. Other goods made in the prison included–

1. Jigsaw puzzles too complicated to solve.
   

2. Pinball machines that registered tilt, if you so much as blew on them.
   

3. Ping-Pong tables with a net bound to collapse the first time it was struck by a ball.
   

4. No-flow ketchup, guaranteed to stick in the bottle.
   

5. Blue jeans labeled preshrunk, but manufactured to shrink still more after the first washing.
   

6. Dentists’ drills.
   

7. Bad-temper pills for teachers and baby-sitters.
   

8. Shoes made especially for children to outgrow within three months.
   

9. Rain for picnics.
   

10. Weeds to ruin swimming holes.
    

11. Major news stories concocted to break only when they could replace favorite television programs.