Thunder Raker (5 page)

Mr Trenchard joined Class 3D on the flat roof over the science block.

“What does the satellite look like?” Alfie asked.

“What satellite?” Mr Trenchard asked. Five minutes later, after consulting his paperwork, he told them: “It's a metal ball, about this big.” He pointed to Harry's head. “Only without a face on it,” he added, in case there was any confusion. “Or ears. Or hair, actually.”

“Got it!” Alice said. She pointed out where she had seen it through her binoculars. Everyone else raised their binoculars and turned to look.

“Yes, that's the fellow,” Mr
Trenchard confirmed. “You see—no ears at all. So what now? How will you retrieve the satellite?”

“Badgers,” Harry said.

“I think we've moved on from that,” Alfie told him.

“I've designed this,” Beth said, and unrolled a complicated plan she had drawn. It showed Sam sitting in his wheelchair. From the front, two long grabber arms were extended. Details showed how the arms were jointed and what motors and controls were needed to make them reach over the fence, pick up the satellite and lift it back over.

“Oh, this is marvellous,” Mr Trenchard said, examining the plan. “Very impressive. And I'm an expert you know,” he went on.

“Oh yes, I used to design secret weapons that could be hidden in fields—at the Department of Advanced Field Technology. It's better known by its initials, of course.”

“That's DAFT,” Alfie said.

“Completely bonkers,” Trenchard agreed, “but it kept us busy. Right then, over to you.”

Beth found all the equipment she needed in the science block, and with help from the rest of Class 3D she set about welding and bolting and fixing wide steel arms and enormous motors to the front of Sam's wheelchair.

“I'm not sure this will work,” Alfie said when they'd finished.

“Just because it wasn't your idea,” said. Chloe.

“Nonsense, it's perfect,” said Beth. She let go of the metal claw she had just attached to the end of one of the long arms and stepped back.

Slowly, Sam's wheelchair pitched forwards and he fell out. “Bit too heavy,” he said.

“Go on a diet,” Chloe advised.

“Not me—Beth's metal arms.”

Harry looked stunned. “Beth has metal arms?”

“We just need to hang on the back of the chair and balance it,” said Alice.

With the rest of Class 3D hanging on the back and the metal arms sticking out and up from the front, Sam's wheelchair moved very slowly even at full speed.

“You'll burn my motors out,” he complained.

“Sam's got motors?”

“Be quiet, Harry,” Jack said. “You know he has.”

“There, you see,” said Beth as they continued to roll forwards. “I told you this would work.”

Then the wheelchair reached the door. Usually it fit through easily. But not now. One metal arm collided with the wall on one side

of the doorway. The other one tangled in the handle of the open door. The sudden jolt knocked everyone off the back of the chair
and it toppled forwards into the doorway, the two new metal arms twisting off and landing in a shattered heap on either side.

“That was Alfie's fault,” Chloe said. A bit unfairly, Alfie thought.

“So what do we do now?” Alice asked. “Those SPUD agents won't be fooled by the fake crash site for long.”

“I think,” said Alfie, “that we should play a game of football.”

After some discussion about who should go in goal, Alfie managed to explain why he
really
wanted to play football.

Chloe shook her head and folded her arms. “Wasting more time,” she said. “I saw three SPUD agents heading for Mrs Prendergast's just now.”

“Let's hope they're on their tea break,” said Beth.

“I don't think they are,” Jack told them. “They're searching the garden—you can see them through the fence, look.”

Everyone agreed they'd better start playing football at once. Sam had just about recovered from his ordeal with the metal arms, but even so he said he'd sit the game out rather than whiz round and knock the ball about.

“Just as well,” Alice told Alfie. “He's lethal in that thing. Doesn't just go for the ball. Sent Harry flying last time we played. Scooped him up on the foot rests and then couldn't see where he was going. They both disappeared out of the grounds and Sergeant Custer had to
go after them in the school Armoured Personnel Carrier.”

“I think that as we couldn't arrange my badger plan, I should be the one to do it,” Jack said.

Alfie shrugged. “Fine by me. You know what to say?”

Jack nodded.

“Let's play for a few minutes first,” Alfie said, “just so it doesn't look suspicious.”

“Not too long,” Chloe warned.

After five minutes, they all agreed it was time. Jack took a tremendous run-up and gave the ball a colossal kick. It flew high up in the air.

“Oh, my goodness,” Jack announced loudly. “Well, will you look at that. Sorry, looks like it's going over.”

“Oh, Jack!” everyone said as the ball flew over the fence and into Mrs Prendergast's garden. SPUD agents dived for cover and hid in the shrubbery.

“I suppose,” Jack said loudly, “that I'd better go and ask if I can get it back.” He winked, and ran off towards the main school gates.

Everyone waited expectantly. Soon Jack ran back triumphantly. He was holding a round object about the size of Harry's head but with no ears. “I got it!” he exclaimed. “The ball landed right next to the satellite. What luck!”

They all stared at what Jack was holding. “That's our football,” Alfie said.

“Well, yes. I kicked it over the fence and went
to get it back, remember. But it worked, Alfie—now we know exactly where the satellite is. All we need to do is find and train some badgers.”

“Er,” Beth said, “I don't think that was quite what Alfie had in mind. Was it, Alfie?”

“Then he should have explained better,” Chloe said. “Now the SPUD agents will get the satellite and it's Alfie's fault. Look—they're searching that part of the garden now.”

Alfie could see several men in dark glasses approaching where Jack had found the satellite. He quickly took the ball from Jack and kicked it high over the fence. “My turn,” he said.

A few minutes later, having asked Mrs Prendergast politely if he could get his ball back, apologised for kicking it over
again
and
promised that yes, they would play further away from her fence, Alfie was in the garden. He could see the satellite nestling under a holly bush at the edge of a flowerbed. The football was close by. But so was a SPUD agent, searching on hands and knees for the satellite…

The man drew back into cover as Alfie approached. Alfie reached the football and kicked it towards the bushes, running quickly after it…

Soon, Alfie was back with his friends from Class 3D. He was carrying a silver ball about the size of Harry's head. Lights flashed round the edge, and it made bleep—bleep noises.

“That,” Harry said seriously, “is
not
our football.”

There was a special assembly before the end of school, where Mr Trenchard thanked Class 3D for their excellent work recovering the whatever-itwas. He gave Miss Jones a certificate that had been specially printed by Mr Cryption. It said:

Everyone was delighted. Even Chloe spared Alfie a smile. But then she seemed to realise what she was doing, and it changed into a frown.

“And I gather from someone's father…” Mr Trenchard said, pausing to wink knowingly at Harry, “…that the SPUD agents sent to find the satellite, thought they'd worked out where it crashed and have returned to SPUD HQ with a football. They are, even as I speak, trying to find out how it works.”

“I think you just kick it,” Harry said.
“No homework tonight?” Alfie's dad asked as they watched television together that evening.

“No. We did so well at school we were let off homework for today.”

“I'm glad you're settling in,” Dad said. “You know, I wasn't really sure if you'd like it.”

“Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, Alfie. Something about school?”

“Sort of. Dad—are you
really
a postman?” Alfie asked.

Alfie's dad smiled and nodded. But he said nothing.

Agent Alfie will return in
On Her Majesty's Postal Service
.

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
Children's Books
2008

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FIRST EDITION

Text copyright © Justin Richards 2008

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EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2009 ISBN: 978-0-007-34734-6