Assignment: Royal Rescue Read online

  Determined that he would also be stuffed with information, the young Hubert built a tight-fitting wooden box to wear like a hat at all times, so changing the shape of his head as it grew, from a useless sphere to a fact-filled square. It is for this reason that he is now known within MP1 as “Cube”.

  “Phlem mentioned you had some CCTV footage for us,” I said.

  A smile crept across Cube’s face. “I can do better than that, Agent Brown…”

  He led us to a side room where there were four video projectors, one in each corner. “By combining the footage from four separate cameras, I have been able to create a fully three-dimensional playback of the event in question.” He flicked a switch. The projectors powered up and Fangs and I suddenly found ourselves standing in a hospital forecourt, surrounded by people clutching Union Jacks. In front of us, Princess Tiara was standing by a length of red ribbon that stretched across the hospital steps.

  A pretty, dark-haired young woman, wearing a nurse’s uniform, was on my right. I stretched out my arm – and my paw went right through her. “She’s a hologram,” I gasped.

  “Not quite as complex,” said Cube, “although the effect is much the same.”

  “It’s very realistic,” said Fangs, looking at the attractive nurse. He whipped off his sunglasses and pulled what I’ve come to call his “kissy” face. “The name’s Enigma,” he crooned. “Fangs Enigma.” He winked at the translucent beauty and then slid his sunglasses back on.

  “Is there a remote we can use to control the playback?” I asked.

  “No need for that.” Cube smiled. Then he called out “Play!”

  Instantly, the crowd around us began to wave their flags and cheer as Princess Tiara was handed a large pair of scissors.

  “Pause,” Cube ordered. The scene around us froze once more.

  “That’s incredible,” I exclaimed.

  “Thank you,” said Cube, proudly. “I’ll leave you to your work. I do, after all, have several thousand pounds’ worth of mechanoid to repair.” He shot a final fierce look at Fangs and then left us alone in the room.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  Fangs nodded.

  “Play!” I shouted.

  Once again the world around us began to move. The crowd cheered and the princess smiled.

  “It gives me gweat pleasure to declare this glowious new hospital ward well and twuly open.” She snipped through the ribbon, and the crowd applauded. The mayoress plucked a bottle of champagne from a nearby ice bucket, and a young girl scurried up the steps to hand the princess a posy of flowers. As she did so, two long lengths of bandage dropped from the hospital roof and a pair of Egyptian mummies began to abseil down them towards the princess.

  The princess’s bodyguard leapt in front of her, but a single blow from one mummy’s massive fist sent him crashing to the ground. The other mummy snarled at the few remaining members of the crowd who hadn’t run in terror and clamped a thickly bandaged hand down on Tiara’s shoulder. The princess screamed.

  Behind me, an engine revved noisily, and I spun round to see a third mummy driving a yellow digger across the car park at top speed. Despite knowing that this was only a video, I instinctively jumped out of the way as the vehicle pulled up to the hospital steps. The digger’s bucket was lowered and the kidnappers tried to shove Princess Tiara inside.

  The princess’s face was forced into the bouquet of flowers she was still clutching, causing her to sneeze. “Ah… Ah… AH … CHOO!” The sneeze forced her head back, where it collided with the face of the mummy behind her with a

  He collapsed, clutching his broken nose to stem the flow of blood.

  The second mummy darted forward to grab the princess, only to trip over a loose bandage and fall face first through the table on which the ice bucket was sitting. By the time he hit the ground, ice cubes were flying everywhere, and the bucket was wedged firmly over his head.

  One of the ice cubes landed down the blouse of the mayoress, who screamed and dropped the champagne bottle she had been struggling to open. The bottle hit the steps, knocking out the cork. A stream of fizz sent it rocketing through the air.

  It smashed through the windscreen of the digger, striking the final mummy square in the forehead and knocking him unconscious.

  Distant police sirens began to wail.

  “Pause!” cried Fangs.

  The devastation froze around us, and we took a moment to survey the scene. A look of terror was fixed on the flickering face of Princess Tiara.

  Fangs crouched down to study the mummy with the broken nose. “The Ramses Brothers,” he said. “I thought these troublemakers were in prison.”

  “They were released last week,” Phlem said as he slithered across the room to join us. “They’re back behind bars again now, but I want to know who sent them to snatch the princess.”

  “You don’t think this was their idea?” I asked.

  Fangs shook his head. “I doubt it. They tend to work as hired muscle. Tough guys, but not exactly gifted in the brain department.”

  “Neither are you on occasion,” Phlem snarled. “But Her Majesty is insisting that I keep you on as the princess’s bodyguard. Don’t mess this one up, Enigma.”

  Sunday 1457 hours: Innsbruck, Austria

  Fangs and I stepped onto the platform at Innsbruck station, and stared at the royal train, which would be our home for the next week.

  “I’ll say one thing for royalty,” said Fangs, removing his sunglasses to take a closer look. “They know how to travel in style.”

  Princess Tiara’s bags were being loaded into her private carriage by a huge man squeezed into a porter’s uniform several sizes too small. Fangs and I carried our own luggage on board and then went in search of our accommodation.

  As the royal security team, we had our own carriage, which included a luxurious office, complete with desks, leather sofas, Internet access and a drinks cabinet stocked with ice-cold milk for Fangs and fresh orange juice for me. (There was even a vial of A-Positive blood – his favourite flavour.) At the far end of the room were two large bedrooms with ensuite bathrooms.

  “Looks like we’ll be getting a little of that royal style too, boss,” I commented as I sat at one of the desks and opened up my laptop. I pulled up the princess’s itinerary. At that very moment – right on schedule – the train pulled away from the platform. I crossed my claws that everything else on the trip would run as smoothly.

  After handing me a glass of orange juice, Fangs dropped a tiny amount of blood into his milk and then sat down on one of the plush sofas. “What’s next?”

  “We’re due to have afternoon tea in the piano bar at four-thirty,” I said.

  “Afternoon tea?” said Fangs with a smile. He swung his feet up onto the sofa. “Wake me up in time to get changed…”

  “This isn’t a holiday,” I reminded him. “We’re here to protect Princess Tiara.”

  “From what? The Ramses Brothers are back in custody and whoever sent them won’t have had the chance to put together a new plan yet. I promise you, Puppy – nothing exciting will happen this week.”

  Just then, the carriage door opened and Cube entered, carrying a briefcase. “I hoped I’d find you here.”

  Fangs sat up and groaned. “I didn’t know you’d been sent along. And I was just beginning to enjoy myself.”

  Ignoring the comment, Cube opened his briefcase and took out a thick metal disc with a length of thin steel cable dangling from it. “This is one of the very latest gadgets my lab has to offer.”

  “It’s a yo-yo,” said Fangs.

  “Not just any yo-yo,” Cube said. “It’s an electric yo-yo.” After winding the cable around the metal body, Cube started to spin the yo-yo up and down. “Do this ten times and you’ll give the yo-yo enough charge for a single blast of electrical energy. That’s enough to power a light for a few minutes, or to short out an adversary’s security system. Try it.”

  He tossed the yo-yo to Fangs. As my boss caught it, there w
as a CRACK! that set his hair standing on end and lit both his front teeth up bright blue. “OW!” he cried. “What in the name of Drac?”

  “Oh yes,” said Cube. “Be sure to discharge the yo-yo before touching it with your bare hands.”

  Fangs snarled and smoothed his hair back down. “I’ll try to remember…”

  “Any other gadgets, professor?” I asked.

  “Yes, indeed,” Cube replied. He pulled a packet of mints from his jacket pocket and offered one to Fangs.

  “I’m not touching them,” my boss cried.

  “They’re perfectly safe.”

  Fangs shook his head and tucked his hands under his cape.

  “Very well,” said Cube, handing the mints to me.

  “What do they do?” I asked.

  “They’re truth mints,” said Cube with a smile. “Get your suspect to eat one of these and he’ll be forced to tell the truth for the next one hundred and eighty minutes.”

  “I’d best not have one, then,” said Fangs. “You might not like what I have to say about these gadgets. Is that it? An electrical yo-yo and anti-lying sweets?”

  Cube’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve saved the best till last…”

  And then a very strange thing happened – all the flesh began to evaporate from Cube’s body. He was soon surrounded by a cloud of steam. When the air cleared, Cube was gone! In his place was a skeleton made of metal bones and electrical wires.

  “What’s going on?” Fangs asked. “Who – or what – is that?”

  Cube’s face appeared on my laptop screen. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

  “Where are you?” Fangs demanded.

  “Oh, I’m still at MP1 Headquarters,” said Cube. “You’ve been talking to RALF.”

  “RALF?” I repeated.

  “It stands for Robotic Artificial Life Form. He’s a mechanoid. I had him repaired at great expense after Agent Enigma knocked his head off at the palace.”

  “Wait,” said Fangs. “That’s the Grenadier Guard who attacked me?”

  “No, RALF was what was inside the guard,” Cube said from the screen. “RALF can be made to look like anyone. You just plug him into your computer or Smartphone, Puppy, and use the special software to design RALF’s new look.”

  I stared at the robot in amazement. Cube had outdone himself this time. “How did you sneak RALF onto the train, Cube?” I asked.

  “I have my ways.” The professor smiled. “Why not give him a go? I’ve already loaded a handful of MP1 personnel files into the ‘demo’ menu to get you started.”

  Following Cube’s instructions, I located the socket on RALF’s hip and connected the robot up to my laptop. Then I selected a profile for him – Phlem’s personal secretary Miss Bile – and clicked “Build”.

  Liquid bubbled out of holes in RALF’s metal bones and began to take on the shape and colour of one of Miss Bile’s favourite green-checked dresses. Fake skin stretched to cover the face, and grey hair sprouted out from the scalp. The eyes, ears and nose appeared – and finally the grinning mouth that we knew so well.

  “Trans-for-ma-tion com-plete,” announced the robot. A button lit up on the screen in front of me. “Activate personality?” I clicked on it.

  The effect was astonishing. The absolute double of Miss Bile spun round to face Fangs and squealed with delight.

  “Fangsh,” she slobbered excitedly. “I haven’t sheen you for agesh.”

  “It’s, er … lovely to see you too,” said Fangs.

  “Are you on another top-shecret asshignment?” she asked. “I’ve alwaysh wanted to shee the locationsh you get to vishit. You’re sho lucky.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am…” Fangs turned to me in alarm. “Shouldn’t she have fainted by now?”

  I smiled. “Apparently not, boss.”

  The artificial banshee wiggled closer to Fangs. “Of courshe, I don’t need to vishit all thoshe placesh if you bring me back shomething shpecial – like a kissh…”

  My boss’s brow furrowed. “A kissh?”

  Miss Bile’s eyes lit up. “Yesh,” she spat. “A kissh.” Then she lunged at Fangs, lips puckered for what promised to be the soggiest snog ever.

  “Puppy!” Fangs croaked, trying to push the robotic secretary away from him. “Switch it off.”

  I hit the “End personality” command on my laptop and Miss Bile froze. There was a faint hissing sound and then the outer skin started to evaporate again. Two minutes later, the metal skeleton marched into a cupboard and switched itself off.

  “That’s amazing,” I said.

  “It depends on your viewpoint,” said Fangs, straightening his shirt.

  “Lifelike, isn’t it?” said Cube from the screen. “Just try not to break him again, Agent Enigma.” The screen hissed, and Cube disappeared.

  “Well, I think it’s all a waste of time,” said Fangs. “This whole trip has been organized by one of the most security-conscious families in the world. What could possibly go wrong?”

  Suddenly we heard a scream.

  Sunday 1526 hours: Royal Train, Austria

  Fangs and I ran as fast as we could towards the princess’s accommodation, which wasn’t easy as the train had now picked up some speed and the carriages were rocking from side to side. We crashed through the kitchens and along the dining carriage, dodging the waitresses who were setting tables for dinner.

  We reached the princess’s carriage to find her stylist, hairdresser and make-up artist pacing nervously outside.

  “What’s happened?” I asked.

  “We don’t know,” May, the princess’s stylist, admitted. “The door is locked.”

  “We tried breaking in,” said June, the make-up girl, “but we weren’t strong enough.”

  “Stand clear,” ordered Fangs. “I’ll deal with this.” He took a couple of steps back and then hurled himself at the door.

  It didn’t move.

  I picked the lock with one of my claws while Fangs hopped about behind me, clutching his bruised arm and swearing under his breath. Once the door was unlocked, we told the women to wait outside and dashed into the carriage.

  Princess Tiara was crouched on her bed, staring at a figure lying on the floor among shards of pottery and a handful of tulips. His mouth hung open and a large, pink tongue lolled out. As Fangs flipped the man onto his back, I recognized him immediately. It was the porter who had carried the princess’s bags onto the train at Innsbruck.

  Taking the princess’s hand, I helped her down from the bed. She was trembling. “What happened?” I asked.

  “I… I’m not tewwibly sure…” she croaked. “I wanted to put some water in this vase, but when I opened the bathroom door – he was … he was alweady inside.”

  Fangs took a coil of rope out of the figure’s clenched fist. “It doesn’t look like he was in there to wash his hands…”

  “We heard you scream and came running,” I said.

  “Oh, that wasn’t me,” said the princess. “He was the one that scweamed. I pwesumed he was here to help me unpack, so I handed him the vase of flowers. I didn’t wealize that there was a big spider on the pot. He saw it and scweamed.”

  “He screamed when he saw the spider?” Fangs asked as he tied the rope around the man’s wrists.

  The princess nodded. “He jumped, too – and banged his head on the doorfwame before collapsing on the floor.”

  “OK,” I said. “Once we’ve searched the rest of the room, we’ll get him out of here, and—”

  “No, you will not search my woom,” the princess snapped.

  “But, we need to make sure—”

  “I will not have just anyone wifling thwough my pwivate possessions,” Tiara insisted. “Now, take this wuffian and leave.”

  Tiara’s assistants rushed into the room then, and so Fangs and I heaved the potential kidnapper back to our own carriage. I was almost crushed under his enormous weight. By the time we had dropped him into an armchair, he was starting to come round. As Fangs questioned him, I launch
ed MP1’s facial-recognition software onto my laptop and took his picture.

  “What’s your name?” Fangs asked.

  The man, who was now fully awake, said nothing. He just sat and growled at us. “GRRRRRR!”

  “I said, what’s your name?”

  “GRRRRR!”

  My laptop gave a PING! as a match was found in the MP1 database. I quickly accessed the file. “Our mystery porter is called… Oh. He’s called Porter. Boz Porter. A half-giant with previous convictions for grave-robbing and the smuggling of stolen body parts to order.”

  “Trying your hand at snatching a live body for a change, eh?” snarled Fangs. “Who sent you?”

  “GRRRRRRR!”

  “WHO SENT YOU?”

  “He won’t answer you, boss,” I said.

  “Oh, yes he will! Even if we have to sit here all night.”

  “No, I mean he can’t answer you,” I said. “His file says he can’t speak. He’s got no tongue. It was ripped out during a fight with an angry dwarf ten years ago.”

  “He has got a tongue,” Fangs insisted. “I had to tuck it back into his mouth when I was tying him up, so he wouldn’t drool all over me.”

  “Not according to the MP1 database, he hasn’t. If the file is out of date, we’ll need to correct it.”

  Fangs turned back to the giant. “Come on, then, big fella – open up and let’s have a look at this missing tongue of yours.”

  Porter shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

  “Then it’s time to get firm…” Fangs said. He grabbed the briefcase Cube had given us. For a moment, I thought he was going to use one of the gadgets but, instead, he clonked the half-giant on the head with the case itself.

  As Porter opened his mouth to gasp in pain, Fangs grabbed his tongue. “Got it,” he cried.

  And he really had got it, because the whole tongue came out in his hand.

  “Yuck,” exclaimed Fangs, dropping the lump of wet flesh.