Licence to Fish
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To Alison, who keeps the young agentsunder control. Sometimes.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Dedication
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Become a Secret Agent
Hedgehog Slab Illusion
Other books by
Copyright
About the Publisher
Introduction
Welcome to Thunder Raker Manor
An Introduction to the School
by Mr. Trenchard, Head Teacher
Thunder Raker Manor is an exclusive school for boys and girls from 8 to 18. Some of the children come daily, some are boarders. Some of them I remember, some of them I—er, what was I saying?
Anyway, all our students are here because their parents or guardians are connected with the Security Services. Spies and agents are happy to send their children to Thunder Raker Manor secure in the knowledge that they will be safe from any possible threats.
We teach a full curriculum at Thunder Raker, fully compliant with the National Thingummy. And alongside the English and Maths and History and Geography, our students learn skills that may just come in handy back home or in their future careers —if they have inherited their parents’ inclinations and aptitudes.
As well as being an honorary CT (Classified Training) Academy, Thunder Raker is especially pleased with its latest SATS results. We take the Special Agent Training Standards very seriously indeed and have achieved excellent levels in Surveillance, Code Breaking and Sabotage.
And if the Security Services need a bit of help from some youngsters for a special mission, or if the villainous agents of that dastardly organisation known only as the Secret Partners for Undertaking Destruction (SPUD) try to take over the school or kidnap one of the teachers—rest assured, every one of our students is ready and prepared.
Mr. Trenchard has been the Head Teacher of Thunder Raker Manor since Mrs Muldoom’s unfortunate accident on the assault course all those years ago. He is superbly qualified and takes great pride in his work. When he can remember what it is. Very good—carry on. Um. Yes…
Mr. Trenchard
Colonel Hugh Dare-Swynne’s Class of the Week This week the Colonel foouses on Class 3d, which is taught by Miss Jones.
Miss Jones
Miss Jones says:
3D is a lovely class and works hard. This year was especially exciting for everyone as we had a new student start—Alfie (surname classified). Alfie is already settling in very well, and even has his own cover story—some nonsense about his father actually being a postman. As if!
Alfie
Alfie fits in well with the other children. He is nine years old, and he’s a clever, practical boy with lots of common sense. He’s brave and loyal and fun. Though I have to say he doesn’t always quite understand some of the lessons or the way we do things here at Thunder Raker. But his common sense approach is a breath of fresh air and he sees the world—and our problems—in a much less cluttered and complicated way than the other children.
Jack
Next up is Jack. Jack’s dad is head of the Secret Service, though of course we don’t mention that. But it does explain why Jack’s a bit full of himself. He is always coming up with terrific ideas and plans, though usually they are rather impractical and just too involved ever to work.
Harry
Harry’s dad has infiltrated SPUD and sends him strange, coded text messages and letters written in invisible ink. Sometimes the children have to go and rescue or help him, which cuts into the school day. Harry isn’t the brightest of the bunch by a long way, but his questions often throw up problems with Jack’s ideas. He is brave and loyal and willing and likes doing PE—on the school assault course.
Sam
Sam’s mum works in Whitehall for Hush Hush, designing equipment for agents and spies. Sam uses a motorised wheelchair—which looks ordinary but has amazing gadgets built into it. Sam’s mum made him his wheelchair because the NHS one didn’t have a very good anti-missile protection system. And one of the wheels was wonky.
Chloe
Moving on to the girls, Chloe is the daughter of a renowned spy (and doesn’t she know it). If you thought Jack was a bit full of himself, he’s got nothing on Chloe. She just has to be the centre of attention, wearing the latest fashion—and spying—accessories. At home she’s got her telly wired up with a Playstation 3, a Wii, and the very latest omni-processing decryptortron. Unfortunately Alfie isn’t terribly impressed by all this, so he and Chloe haven’t really hit it off.
Alice
Alice’s dad is a double agent (but it’s a bit unclear which side he’s actually on). You never know where you are with Alice—she says one thing then does another. Her moods are volatile and she’s got a temper like a tank-buster missile when it goes off.
Beth
Beth is a swot and a techie. Her dad is a super-boffin who runs the Government’s Inventing Taskforce (GIT). She’s inherited his absented-minded braininess. She’s not so hot on the practical side of things though—she can design a robot to tie your shoelaces, but she’s always tripping over her own feet. She comes to school on her rocket-powered rollerblades.
A Passion for Excellence
Miss Jones
Miss Jones is responsible for teaching Class 3D the ordinary everyday subjects like Maths and English and History. She’s newly qualified, quiet and unassuming. Like Miss Jones, all the subject teachers at Thunder Raker Manor are fully qualified and at the very peak of their profession. Many of them are former agents and spies, so together they bring a wealth of experience to the school.
Mr. Cryption
Mr. Cryption teaches Codes. He’s tall and thin and no one understands anything he says.
Miss Fortune
Miss Fortune teaches Assassination. Her classes always seem to be a few pupils short—they get sent on errands or asked to help fetch something, and never come back…Note, though, that Class 3D is too young for Assassination, which is only taught in the Sixth Form.
Sir Westerly Compass
Sir Westerly Compass is in charge of Tracking Skills. He’s always late for class, and his lessons are often moved at short notice.
The Major
The Major—that’s all he’s ever called—is in charge of Sabotage Training. He has an enormous moustache and he’s rather accident prone. Everything he touches breaks—even the plate he gets his school dinner on…
Mrs Nuffink
Mrs Nuffink teaches Surveillance. Don’t mess around in her class—she’s got eyes in the back of her head. No, really.
Mr. Trick
Camouflage is supposed to be taught by Mr. Trick. But no one can find him.
Reverend “Bongo” Smithers
The Chaplain is Reverend “Bongo” Smithers, a former fighter pilot more interested in war stories than Bible stories. He also teaches PE. Ruthlessly.
Peace of Mind
So whatever your parental requirements or security clearance, you can rest assured that Thunder Raker Manor will provide a first-class education for your child in every respect. We can’t tell you how much the children enjoy being here. No, really—we can’t. It’s an official secret.
Chapter 1
It was still quite dark when Alfie walked to school, but the men watching him from the hedges and ditches all wore sunglasses. This meant they had trouble seeing Alfie, and had to lean right out from their hiding places. Then they’d suddenly pull back into hiding when he got too close. Alfie ignored them and kept going.
He might have felt sorry for them, stuck out in the cold and the wet all night, except for two things. First, Alfie knew that they were agents of SPUD—the Secret Partners for Undertaking Destruction. They were spying on Alfie and all the other pupils and staff at Thunder Raker Manor School. And the second thing was that Alfie knew Mrs Prendergast would soon come out from her little cottage to offer them tea and biscuits.
Alfie was early this morning because he wanted to get to school in time to ask one of his friends about his homework. It had been set by Mr. Cryption the Codes teacher, and Alfie didn’t really understand what he was supposed to do. He had been given a sheet of lined paper, with a heading at the top. There was no explanation, and the heading simply asked, ‘Extraction Luggage Mangle?’.
So Alfie ignored the SPUD agents, and made his way up to the main school gates. He said hello to Sergeant Custer, who was on guard as usual. He paused to pat Gerald the guard dog. Then he made his way up the school drive and was soon in his classroom.
Only one of Alfie’s friends from Class 3D had arrived before him. It was Jack. His dad was head of the Secret Service, which sounded very exciting. In fact, all the children at Thunder Raker had parents or guardians who were in the Secret Service, or were spies or agents. All except Alfie.
His dad was a postman.
Everyone else thought this was great cover, and only Alfie knew he was at Thunder Raker because there had been a mistake. But Alfie loved the school and all his classmates, so he never said anything or complained.
“Hi, Alfie,” said Jack. “Did you get the Codes homework done, then?”
“I didn’t really understand the question,” Alfie confessed.
“Not surprised,” said Jack. “Have you heard about the new fishing club?”
“That’s it?” said Alfie. “Strange homework question.”
He got his homework out of his backpack, and wrote carefully under the heading: ‘No, I haven’t heard about the new fishing club’. He thought for a moment, and then added neatly: ‘Fester scribble’.
“What are you doing?” Jack asked as he watched Alfie write.
“Answering the question.”
“Great.” Jack pulled out his own homework sheet. It was as blank as Alfie’s had been. ‘So, what is it?”
Alfie frowned. “Have you heard about the new fishing club?”
“How strange,” said Jack. “I just asked you the same thing. And the notice only went up this morning, so I’m surprised Mr. Cryption knew about it.”
Alfie was beginning to think that maybe he had misunderstood. But the other children in Class 3D were arriving now.
“What’s that about a fishing club?” Alice asked. “I think fishing is cruel to fish.”
“Perhaps they can join too,” said Jack. “Sounds a bit boring though.”
Sam rolled up in his wheelchair. “Maybe I can get a special fishing attachment.” His
wheelchair was packed with gadgets and defensive equipment. “That would make it more fun.”
Jack said something in reply, but his words were drowned out by the noise of Beth arriving—on a rocket-powered scooter. She was wearing a bright pink crash helmet, and stopped so suddenly beside her desk that the crash helmet kept going. It flew across the room and hit Harry as he came through the door.
“Oof,” he said, and doubled over.
“Do stand up straight, Harry,” Chloe said, stepping into the classroom past him. “And give Beth back her helmet. Though I have to say it’s a bit old-fashioned. Pink is so last week.”
“Have you heard about the new fishing club?” Jack asked Harry.
“Fishing club?” Harry looked confused. “What do you do—hit them over the head with it?”
“Not that sort of club,” Alfie said.
“I’ve got a golf club,” Chloe said. “My dad gave it to me. There are eighteen holes in it and lots of famous people play golf there.”
“Even though there are holes in it?” Harry asked.
“You don’t go fishing with a club,” Sam explained to Harry.
“That’s right,” Chloe said, taking back her pink crash helmet. “You go with a rod.”
Harry was still looking perplexed. “Who’s Rod?”
“Maybe he runs the club,” Alice suggested.
“Some people go fishing with a net,” Jack pointed out. “That would have holes in.”
Harry sat down heavily. “Who’s Annette?!”
“Must be a friend of Rod,” Chloe told him.
Luckily, Miss Jones the class teacher arrived before Harry got any more confused.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said. “Now, before we go to Assembly, I have a message from Mr. Cryption. He’s very sorry that the homework he set you for last night didn’t really make sense and he’s asked me to apologise.”
“Extraction Luggage Mangle,” Sam muttered. “I knew it couldn’t be that easy.”
“Yes,” Miss Jones went on, “in fact, the question should have been…” She paused to check on a piece of paper. “Ah yes, here we are, it should have been: ‘Igloo pest under armada brackets?’”
Sam slapped his palm to his forehead. “Of course!”
“But what does it mean?” Alfie whispered to him.
“Haven’t a clue,” Sam said. “I just put my answer as ‘167 Wednesdays’. I don’t think I’ll bother to change it.”
Assembly started in the usual way, with the Head Teacher Mr. Trenchard forgetting why everyone was there or what was going on. Years ago, Mr. Trenchard had trained himself to forget anything that might be useful to the enemy if he was captured. But now he seemed just to forget everything. All the time.
Eventually he remembered what the Assembly was about, and explained the plans for the day ahead.
“And finally,” Mr. Trenchard said, reading from his notes, “we have a new after-school club starting this week. The Fishing Club. There’s already been a lot of interest, so each class will be allocated a day when they can go to the club. Today that class will be 3D.”
“Oh how boring,” Jack said. “I’m not going.”
“Nor me,” Beth agreed.
Sam shook his head too.
But Mr. Trenchard hadn’t finished. “Because the timetable is already so crowded, I’m afraid that anyone who does join the Fishing Club will have to miss the last lesson of the day. Which for Class 3D today would be…” he paused to check on a piece of paper, “…Political Destabilisation, with the Chaplain.”
“I think fishing is way cool!” Jack said.
“Fishing Club—can’t wait,” Sam whispered.
“I’m there,” Beth agreed.
“It’s cruel to fish,” Alice muttered.
Mr. Trenchard was explaining which day each of the other classes could go fishing and what lessons they would miss. “You will meet by the school lake at the start of the last lesson. Any questions?”
The other teachers all sat on the stage beside Mr. Trenchard. Alfie had noticed that there was always an empty chair on the end of the line. Beside the empty chair was the Major. He was in charge of sabotage training. “One thing,” he said gruffly. He struggled to remain upright as a leg fell off his chair. “Who will be running this Fishing Club?”
“Ah, very good question.” Mr. Trenchard paused as the Major’s chair toppled sideways and tipped him off the stage. “We have two experts coming in from the Advanced Fish Inspection Board.”
“That’s AFIB,” the Chaplain announced, in case there was any confusion.
“No, no,” Mr. Trenchard insisted. “It’s absolutely true.”
“Experts!” Harry whispered to Alfie, obviously impressed.
“And their names,” Mr. Trenchard announced, “are Rod and Annette.”
Chapter 2
The first lesson was Surveillance, with Mrs Nuffink. But it was clear that Class 3D was more excited by the thought of fishing than by watching grainy black and white CCTV footage of a supermarket car park.
“There!” Mrs Nuffink exclaimed in exasperation. “Did none of you see that?”
“See what?” Chloe asked.
“It was just a woman pushing a trolley,” said Jack.
“A woman in dark glasses and combat gear,” Alfie added.
“And what did you notice about the trolley?” Mrs Nuffink demanded.
They all looked at her blankly. “I’ve got better wheels?” Sam suggested.
“Inside the trolley?” Mrs Nuffink prompted. “Didn’t you see anything worrying?”
“Groceries,” Jack said.
“Frozen peas,” Harry suggested.
Ideas came thick and fast now:
“Meat.”
“Carrots.”
“Books.”
“A set of matching saucepans.”
“A gorilla.”
“A gorilla?!”
“Why not?”
“Fish.”
“A rod and a net. Ha ha—only kidding, Harry.”
Mrs Nuffink sighed. She adjusted a control on the video player and the image of the trolley froze, then zoomed in.
“There—look!”
“Oh,” said Alfie.
“Ah,” Alice exclaimed.
“It’s a surface-to-air missile,” Beth said. “Heat seeking, with dual-stage ignition and anti-wobble stabilisers.”
“I didn’t know they sold those down the supermarket,” said Jack.
“That’s because you never help with the shopping,” Alice told him.
“Well,” said Mrs Nuffink with satisfaction as she let the video play through, “isn’t that a bit of a worry?”
“Not really,” said Beth. “You can’t launch those from inside a trolley.”
The image on the screen juddered as the trolley hurtled rapidly towards the camera, trailing flames and smoke behind it.
The screen went white.
“See what I mean?” said Beth.
“I really don’t think any of you have been paying full attention today,” Mrs Nuffink said as she handed out homework sheets.
“We’re excited about the Fishing Club,” Harry explained.
“I cannot think why. Everyone knows the best way to catch fish is to lie in wait. Be patient. Watch and wait for the fish to appear.”
“And then?” Chloe asked.
“Hit it with a club.”
All the teachers seemed to have different ideas about how to catch fish. In PE, the Chaplain paused in his description of how to crawl under the automated machine guns and avoid the marauding lions to suggest gelignite.
“Gelignite?” said Beth. “But that’s a powerful explosive.”
The Chaplain nodded. “Just chuck it in the water. The shock wave from the explosion kills the fish and they float to the surface.”
“Not much skill in that is there?” said Jack.
“Kill not skill,” the Chaplain barked. “Anyway, with fish it isn’t the skill that counts. With fish it’s the scale. Now where were we? Oh yes, I was going to tell you about the hidden bear pit.” He paused for a moment before saying to Alfie, “Just help Harry out of there, will you? Before Grizzly gets him. Thank you.”
In Sabotage, the Major said he also had a good way to catch fish. But they never found out what it was, because at that moment he fell out of the window. Then through the skylight into the dining room.
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