The Great Brain Robbery Page 5

  ‘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.

  ‘Moonglasses,’ 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.

  ‘Take what you need,’ said the old spy. ‘But listen very carefully. Spying is not a game. It is a very risky business. You must be patient and you must be brave. You never know what you might find out.’

  Neet had been right about Timmy. The next day, Frankie noticed him behaving very oddly indeed. Usually Timmy didn’t want to be seen anywhere near Frankie-no-friends but that day he seemed to be lurking around every corner.

  ‘Have you heard any more from Wes?’ Frankie asked Neet, as they queued up for their lunch.

  ‘Shhh,’ whispered Neet, flashing a warning glance. ‘He’s listening.’ Frankie peered over his shoulder and, sure enough, there was Timmy pretending he was studying the ceiling. Then later on, when he and Neet were eating their crisps on the playground bench, Frankie heard a rustling in the bushes behind him.


  ‘Timmy!’ Neet whispered and, lo and behold, there was Timmy scurrying away with a notepad and pencil.

  ‘Alphonsine’s right,’ said Frankie, shaking his head. ‘He’s spying on us. Let’s just hope we’re better at it than he is!’

  They didn’t have to wait long to find out. As the children drained out of the school gates Frankie and Neet kept a close eye on their target. Then, as soon as Timmy had left the school grounds, they started to follow. Before long it was clear that Timmy was not on his way home. He took off in the opposite direction, walking hurriedly along the pavements and staying close to the walls.

  Soon they were beyond the houses and heading out of town. The light was fading fast as the autumn sun sank beyond the horizon, but the two trackers were grateful for the cover of darkness. Timmy scurried on like a worried beetle, clutching his rucksack to his shoulders. He led them over the heath, then on past an abandoned playground. Frankie shuddered to see the broken swings and the rusted roundabout. Suddenly a frightening thought occurred to him. ‘Do you think he knows we’re here?’ Frankie whispered anxiously. ‘What if he is leading us somewhere?’

  Neet shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, Frankie,’ she said. ‘But if we want to find Wes then it’s a chance we have to take.’ Frankie nodded and they pushed on.

  Timmy led them up a steep winding road. They were close enough to hear the thud and crunch of his footsteps but, thanks to Alphonsine’s silent sneakers, their own feet didn’t make a sound.

  ‘Urrgh! How much farther?’ puffed Neet as the road climbed sharply. Then, as they came around the bend, their eyes widened with amazement.

  Perched on top of the hill was what looked like an enormous doll’s house. The walls were straight and square, the windows gleamed like glassy eyes, and everything was a shade of bubblegum pink.

  ‘Ewwww,’ groaned Neet. ‘I haaaate pink!’ But there was no escaping it – the door was pink, the walls were pink, even the tiles on the roof were pink. The friends hid themselves behind a perfectly pink rose-bush and watched Timmy scuttle quickly up the path and ring the doorbell. The candy-coloured door opened quickly but, from where they were hiding, Neet and Frankie could not see who was behind it. Then, as Timmy stepped inside, they heard a peal of laughter that sounded like the jingle of coins.

  ‘Quickly,’ urged Frankie, making a dash across the front lawn. Frankie and Neet crouched beneath one of the front windows and peered in. The window stood slightly open and on the other side of the pretty lace curtains was a perfectly turned out sitting room. Pink lampshades, pink settees, pink wallpaper. There was even a pink pussycat prowling across the plush pink carpet. Frankie felt slightly nauseous, as if he had swallowed a vat of strawberry ice-cream. Then he saw a sight that sent a chill through his veins. Perched in the middle of the sofa, like an ancient doll, was a white-haired old lady with a curious pink smile.

  ‘That’s her!’ Frankie whispered.

  ‘Who?’ Neet replied, baffled.

  ‘Marvella Brand.’

  Marvella was a strange sight to behold. Her wizened features were framed by white ringleted hair and she was wearing a prim satin party dress. Frankie noticed that she was clutching something between her crumpled hands. It was a rather tired-looking fairy wand. Marvella’s pale eyes were focused intently on Timmy, who was engulfed in a puffy armchair, scoffing what looked like a handful of marshmallows.

  ‘How charming!’ the old lady trilled, swinging her legs forward and clapping her hands together like a little girl. ‘How simply delightful! You must come round to play more often!’ Frankie winced. Like her famous permafrost smile, there was something chilly about Marvella’s voice.

  ‘Now,’ said Marvella, ‘what have you found out about our little party-poopers?’

  ‘Can I have my vouchers?’ said Timmy through a mouthful of mallow.

  ‘No,’ said Marvella with a sugary snap. ‘Information first, vouchers later.’ Timmy pulled a sulky face, but there was something about Marvella that you didn’t want to trifle with.

  ‘Well, Frankie hasn’t brought his Mechanimal into school for a while . . .’ Timmy began.

  Frankie and Neet stared at each other. So they were right. Timmy had been following them. ‘. . . He doesn’t seem to want to play with Mechanimals any more – which is weird – and Neet is always hanging out at his house with that mad old French lady, and then the other day I saw them snooping around the shop. Frankie went right into the grotto and—’

  ‘That’s enough!’ hissed Marvella in a voice that sounded like an icicle snapping. ‘I was warned about this.’ Marvella poured herself a cup of raspberry tea and sat silently, collecting her thoughts. She looked like one of those old porcelain dolls that Frankie’s cousin Amelia collected. The sort that you are not supposed to play with in case its head falls off.

  ‘Can I have my vouchers now?’ Timmy asked again.

  ‘You must do me a teensy-weensy favour first,’ Marvella replied, ‘then you can have as many vouchers as you like, OK?’

  ‘Fine,’ grumbled Timmy. ‘What is it?’

  ‘All I want you to do,’ Marvella cooed, ‘is bring your two little friends—’

  ‘They’re not my friends,’ Timmy scoffed, through a sugary mouthful.

  ‘Whatever,’ snapped Marvella. ‘Bring Frankie and Anita to the store tomorrow lunchtime. I need to get them out of the way for a while. We don’t want them spoiling everybody’s fun.’ Frankie and Neet looked at each other in horror.

  ‘But . . .’ Timmy seemed suddenly uncomfortable. ‘But what are you going to do to them?’

  Marvella burst into a peal of silver laughter. ‘Silly boy!’ she said. ‘We’re not going to do anything to them. We just need to send them on a little trip, that’s all. Like a holiday.’

  ‘Well, I guess that’s OK,’ Timmy replied cautiously. ‘And then I’ll get my vouchers, right?’

  ‘That’s it!’ Neet hissed through her teeth. ‘I’ve had enough of this! I’m going in there right now! We need to know what’s going on!’

  ‘Shhh!’ warned Frankie, catching her arm. His gut was telling him that the danger they were in was very real. ‘Remember what Alphonsine said. We have to be patient.’

  Neet muttered in annoyance but they stayed where they were, as still and as silent as snails.

  Soon, Timmy was sent scurrying out of the door. They were about to follow him back when Neet heard the beeps of a telephone being dialled. They peeked through the lace curtains and saw Marvella clutching a large pink receiver between her tiny hands. ‘Is everything ready for the meeting tomorrow morning?’ she hissed between her pearly white teeth. A voice at the other end of the line burbled a reply, but Frankie and Neet couldn’t make out the words. ‘No. No more time,’ snapped Marvella. ‘Christmas is just around the corner– we can’t delay a moment longer. Besides, I have given you everything you need – the elves, the workshops. Now I expect to see results.’

  ‘Who is she talking to?’ said Neet. ‘You don’t think she’s kidnapped Santa, do you?’ Frankie was straining his ears to hear the other voice. Something had snagged in his brain, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Marvella continued. ‘They will both be delivered tomorrow, as you requested. One of their classmates will be bringing them in; a greedy little goblin called Timmy . . . Yes, he’ll be there. He’d bring his own granny if he thought there was a voucher in it.’

  Frankie and Neet exchanged glances. Marvella was probably right about that.

  The voice at the end of the line buzzed anxiously. ‘Listen,’ Marvella snapped. ‘If it wasn’t for me you’d still be scampering round your cage eating sunflower seeds.’

  Frankie felt his stomach tighten.

  ‘You should remember that I only put my time and money into rescuing you because I heard about your pioneering work with children. The Marvella Brand corporation has invested a great deal in Project Wishlist,’ Marvella continued frostily, ‘now we expect results.’ The burblin
g at the other end of the line subsided. ‘You are the world’s top brain scientist,’ she said. ‘I don’t expect to be disappointed.’

  Suddenly, Frankie knew – with absolute certainty – who was on the other end of the line. He felt his skin shivering into hundreds of goosebumps.

  ‘Goodnight, Dr Gore,’ Marvella hissed through her stretched smile. ‘Don’t let the children down.’

  ‘I should have known Dr Gore was behind all of this!’ Eddie exclaimed, pacing back and forth across the kitchen. ‘It’s got his fingerprints all over it!’

  ‘Well it would explain what happened to Snuffles,’ said Neet. ‘But how . . . how did they turn him back into a human being?’

  ‘There’s nothing very human about Dr Gore,’ said Frankie and shuddered. Just saying his enemy’s name was enough to send a shiver of dread down his spine.

  ‘Marvella has an awful lot of money,’ sighed Eddie. ‘If she wants something done there is not a lot that will get in her way. This time she wanted Dr Gore’s brainpower. She probably tracked him down and struck a deal: she would follow his instructions to turn him back into a human if he would promise to work for her. Simple as that.’

  ‘Simple for an evil genius, yes,’ muttered Alphonsine, sucking pensively on her coffee.

  ‘But what do they want with us?’ Neet stammered.

  Alphonsine narrowed her two grey eyes. ‘Something most evil is afoot in that emporium, no doubts about it,’ she said, ‘and Dr Gore doesn’t want you two mangling it up for him like last time. That’s why he needs to get you out of the way.’

  Neet stamped her foot in frustration. ‘We’re running out of time,’ she said. ‘Project Wishlist is already underway but we don’t have the first idea how to stop it. We don’t even know what happened to Wes!’

  Frankie nodded. Neet was right. They hadn’t even started to join the dots. There was the mind-sweeping, the morse code, the message. But what did it all add up to?

  ‘Marvella said something about a meeting,’ said Frankie. ‘We need to find a way in.’ Everyone nodded in agreement. ‘It is being held tomorrow morning, so I say we break into Marvella’s tonight.’