The Great Brain Robbery (8 page)

Frankie heard a familiar beeping sound behind him. He turned to see a colossal Gadget the Rabbit bearing down on him, twitching its enormous mechanical nose. Frankie shrieked in alarm before
toppling backwards into a vat of squeaky foam balls.

‘Ha ha ha!’ Poppy Malone, a freckly first-year from Cramley, was pointing at Frankie and clutching her sides in laughter. ‘Scaredy-cat!’ she shrieked. ‘It’s
just a toy, you know!’

‘That’s what
you
think,’ Frankie muttered under his breath as he hauled himself squeakily back on to his feet. The giant rabbit was amusing a group of children by
clapping its steely paws. Frankie narrowed his eyes. ‘That’s what everybody thinks.’

Frankie dusted himself down and sloped away, keeping his hood up and his head low to avoid the gaze of the security cameras. As he neared the back of the shop, he noticed that a section had been
roped off. He went over to inspect. Beyond the rope was a glittering cave surrounded by twinkling lights and flanked by life-size toy reindeer. Santa’s Grotto!
They must be getting it
ready for Christmas
, thought Frankie. The mouth of the cave was dark and deep and seemed to go back a long way. Frankie looked behind him to check no one was watching, but luckily the whole
store seemed transfixed by a magic show that had just started in the Witches and Wizards section. This was his chance. He slid under the rope and disappeared into the cave mouth like water down a
drain.

It took a while for Frankie’s eyes to adjust to the darkness and even then he could only make out the vaguest shapes as he ventured deep into the gaping gullet of the cave. The hubbub of
the shop faded away until all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. He gulped nervously. Maybe he should go back. Was he really going to find anything in there? But his feet kept moving
forward in spite of him. Suddenly a small face surfaced through the gloom. Frankie stifled a scream – it was only a mannequin. He rubbed his eyes and stared into the near-darkness. All around
him were models of smiling elves in a mock workshop making toys for Santa’s sleigh. But each one of them was as still as stone, as if under some malevolent spell.

Frankie was beginning to feel the cold fingers of fear creep across the back of his neck when, all of a sudden, he had a strong sense that he was being watched. Was it the twinkling eyes of the
elves? Had he heard something moving in the darkness? He couldn’t tell. But his gut told him that there was somebody else in the grotto. ‘Hello?’ whispered Frankie nervously.
‘Is there someone here? . . . Wes?’

There was a scuffling sound behind him then a dash of footsteps. Whoever it was was making a getaway. Frankie spun round to see two small flashing lights.

‘Hey!’ Frankie shouted, summoning up all his courage. ‘Hey! Come back!’ The lights were heading for the exit. Frankie took a deep breath and gave chase. He could hardly
see where he was going as he stumbled through the darkness . As he turned a corner he saw the pair of lights disappear through some heavy curtains. But before he caught up, he tripped and crashed
to the floor, striking his head sharply on the way down. The grotto sprang instantly to life. Jingling Christmas music and loud ho ho hos filled the air as grinning animatronic elves loaded
Santa’s sleigh with presents. Frankie was so dizzy the whole grotto seemed to be swirling around him. The ground shifted and swayed as if he were on the deck of a ship. He staggered to his
feet, clutching his thumping head, and fumbled towards the exit. He could make out a large illuminated sign but his vision was so blurred that the letters would not settle into a readable pattern.
There was a C and an A and an L . . . There was a G . . . and an O . . . and . . . He gasped in horror. In his groggy state, the letters spelt out the name of someone Frankie hoped he would never
meet again. His worst and most dreadful enemy: DR CALUS GORE. Then his eyes seemed to fill with blackness and he passed out on the spot.

‘Wake up! Frankie! Wake up!’

Neet was shaking him vigorously as if he were a bottle of ketchup.

‘Owwwwww,’ murmured Frankie as he came round. He put his hand to his pounding head and felt a lump the size of an egg. ‘It’s OK, Neet,’ he said. ‘I think
I’m OK.’ As Frankie looked up, his blurry vision caught sight of some large illuminated letters: ‘
SANTA CLAUS’S GROTTO
’.
Of course
, thought Frankie,
shaking his head,
‘Claus’ not ‘Calus’.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief.

‘You sure you’re all right, Frankie?’ said Neet.

‘I’m fine,’ Frankie replied, staggering to his feet. ‘My eyes were playing tricks on me, that’s all.’ Frankie forced out a laugh, but he could not quite
untwist the knot that had formed in his stomach.

When they got home, Alphonsine and Eddie fussed over him like a couple of hens. ‘Here,’ said Eddie, spooning some honey-coloured liquid into Frankie’s mouth.
‘I mixed up this medicine this morning. It should make the swelling go down.’

‘My Eddie’s medicines always do the biscuit,’ said Alphonsine proudly.

‘Do the business,’ whispered Frankie, still feeling terribly woozy.

‘Yes, yes,’ muttered Alphonsine, ‘same thing.’

‘I found him in Santa’s grotto,’ Neet explained. ‘He was knocked out on the floor. What happened in there, Frankie?’

Frankie closed his eyes and tried to remember. Slowly, shreds of memory floated to the surface. He remembered the reindeer and the strange, grinning faces of the elves. Then he remembered the
pair of lights.

‘There was somebody in there with me,’ said Frankie. ‘I don’t know who, but they were watching me and then I heard them run out. There were two flashing lights. I tried
to run after them and that’s when I tripped and hit my head.’

Neet frowned and folded her arms. ‘I see,’ she said.

‘What is it, Neety?’ asked Alphonsine.

‘Timothy Snodgrass,’ Neet replied with certainty.

‘What makes you say that?’ said Frankie.

‘He’s got these new trainers,’ said Neet. ‘He’s been showing them off to everyone at school – they have lights on the heel that flash different colours as he
walks. I think they’re called Glo-Getters.’

‘Oh they’re awesome!’ smiled Frankie, perking up. ‘I can’t believe Timmy’s got some already! They only came out last week!’

‘Ahem!’ coughed Alphonsine. ‘Ze question is, what was Timmy Snotgrass doing in ze grotto?’

‘I didn’t think much of it till now,’ Neet frowned, ‘but he’s been acting a bit strangely lately. Ever since our trip to Marvella’s.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Frankie.

‘Yesterday he kept sitting next to me in class. Then later, I startled him when I went into the cloakroom to get my bag. I thought he had been rummaging through it, but I couldn’t be
sure. In any case, it wouldn’t surprise me if he were up to something.’

‘Hmmm,’ Alphonsine murmured, tugging pensively on a wiry white hair sprouting from her chin. ‘He is watching you. He is following. But why?’

‘Well there is only one way to find out,’ groaned Frankie, heaving himself off the sofa. ‘If he’s been spying on us, we need to start spying on him!’

‘Not so fast, young man.’ Eddie pushed Frankie gently back onto the sofa. ‘How’s your head?’

‘Oh much better thanks,’ smiled Frankie. The swelling had already gone down to half the size and the honey mixture had given Frankie a lovely warm feeling in his belly.

‘Spying, eh?’ Alphonsine muttered mysteriously. ‘I have exactly ze thing you need – exactly ze thing.’ She disappeared up the stairs while the others waited in the
living room. Then, after a great deal of crashing about in the attic, she reappeared carrying a battered metal trunk, dented and covered with dirt as if it had once been buried under the roots of a
tree.

‘What’s that, Alfie?’ said Neet. ‘What’s in it?’

Alphonsine cast suspicious sideways glances as if she were afraid of being seen, then prised off the lid. Frankie and Neet peered eagerly inside. But all they saw was a motley collection of bits
and bobs – the sort of stuff you might find at a car boot sale. Amongst the junk was a couple of bent pairs of spectacles, a bunch of old shoes, and a tarnished perfume bottle on a chain. But
Alphonsine was looking at them with sparkling eyes, as if they were her most precious possessions.

‘This is my treasure-box!’ she whispered excitedly.

Frankie was struggling to see what was so special about these odds and ends. He picked up a watch.

‘That,’ Alphonsine announced proudly, ‘is a
watcher
!’

‘A watch,’ corrected Neet.

‘No, no, a watcher,’ Alphonsine repeated, ‘for
watching.
Look!’ Alphonsine pressed the wind-up mechanism at the side. Immediately the watch face sprang open and
a miniature camera popped out and snapped a picture. Neet and Frankie blinked in wonder. ‘Eyes for spies!’ sang Alphonsine delightedly. ‘When Eddie and I were in ze Resistance,
during ze war, many years ago, it was our job to spy on ze enemy. This is our box of tricks!’

‘Woooooow!’ cooed Frankie. This was so much better than all those fake spy-gadgets at Marvella’s.

Frankie picked up a pair of scruffy-looking shoes. ‘Put zem on,’ grinned Alphonsine. Frankie did as he was told. ‘Now run around ze room.’

Frankie took a few steps across the wooden floorboards then stopped in astonishment. Normally the aged floorboards would creak and groan underfoot, but this time Frankie’s footsteps were
as silent as a cat’s.

‘Silent sneakers!’ said Alphonsine proudly, lifting Frankie’s foot and pressing on the padded sole. ‘For sneaking about – top of ze range!’ She threw a second
pair to Neet while Frankie took out the perfume bottle and tossed it lightly in his hand.

‘Watch out!’ warned Alphonsine. ‘It’ll go off!’

Frankie froze.

‘You . . . you mean it’s a bomb?’ he stammered.

‘But of course!’ chortled Alphonsine. ‘A smoke-bomb. Pull off ze chain and –
whoooooooosh!
Smoke everywhere! Very good for getaways.’ Frankie breathed a
sigh of relief and placed the bottle gently on the carpet. Neet held up a pair of cloudy spectacles.

‘And what about these sunglasses?’ asked Neet.

‘
Moon
glasses,’ corrected Alphonsine, reaching over to the lampshade and switching off the light. ‘Try zem!’

Neet slipped them on to her nose and blinked. The room was in darkness but Neet could see everything as if the place were flooded with the clearest moonlight.

‘Night vision!’ she cooed. ‘Wow!’

Alphonsine demonstrated her other gadgets. There was a pen that wrote in invisible ink, an umbrella that turned inside out to become a radio receiver, and an old granny-shawl that opened up into
a full-scale parachute.

‘A para-shawl!’ said Alphonsine proudly. ‘I invented this one myself. Pull these tassels here, and –
whooosh!
’ Alphonsine flung her arms out wide.
‘You are floating like a jellyfish. Cunning, is it not?’

Frankie looked at all the extraordinary gadgets strewn across the carpet and drew a deep breath. It was cunning indeed, very cunning. But they were going to have to be more than cunning if they
were to find their friend Wes.