My Spy
MI High are recruited to a special project. They will work with the Deputy Minister for Security to find the mole in her organisation. They have friends and enemies, but will they be able to tell the difference ?
I do not own MI High, any of its characters or rights to anything.
It was an ordinary day at St. Heart's School. That is to say, not an ordinary day in any ordinary sense of the word. Mr. Flatley, the head teacher, walked the school corridors in blissful ignorance of the top secret spy base in a deep, underground basement beneath the school. He knew nothing about his school caretaker being a secret spy master and even less about several of his pupils actually being undercover government spies. He would have been most shocked to realise that his school was in fact run by his deputy head teacher, Mrs. King. Mrs. King was not a spy, but if she had been, Mr. Flatley would not have noticed that either. All of this made Kenneth Flatley, the ideal head teacher for St. Heart's.
"Morning Mr. F," said Frank London cheerily as Mr. Flatley passed.
"Oh, good morning Frank," said Mr. Flatley cheerily, after having almost walked past the school caretaker. He did notice the flashing yellow light on top of the mop handle. "Er, Frank, your mop appears to be flashing," pointed out Mr. Flatley.
"Oh, is it ?" said Frank, jumping nervously. "Ah, yes, that's to let me know that the cleaning fluid is running out Mr. Flatley," Frank assured him, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"Oh, how novel ! Well, I'll let you get on Frank. Important floors to clean, and all that," said Mr. Flatley vaguely, before heading off for his registration class.
Frank, glanced around him and pulled out his phone. "Stella ? What is it ?" he asked quietly, his voice having lost its working-class London accent. He listened to a woman speaking, checked his watch and then said, "I'll have them there in ten minutes then," before hanging up.
Before Mr. Flatley had barely reached the end of his register when four pencil tops started to flash red. Their owners quietly concealed them before raising their hands and making various excuses to leave the classroom. Mr. Flatley had become so used to these four pupils having unexpected demands on their school day that he barely murmured a complaint. A minute later Dan, Aneisha, Tom and Keri walked out of a high speed lift, dressed in black spy clothes, into a dimly lit underground room filled with high tech equipment and displays.
"Team ! Good. Stella wants to speak to you," explained Frank, pulling up an image of a stern looking woman on a large central screen.
"Agents, you have a new assignment," began Chief Agent Stella Knight. "You should recognise this woman," she said, and the screen changed to a picture of a different woman.
"Isn't that the new Deputy Prime Minister ?" asked Aneisha.
"Yes, Maureen Brash," said Stella. "She became Deputy after that dreadful affair with the Crime Minister," she explained. "She has asked MI9 to investigate the possibility of a mole within her department. There have been a series of leaks recently which have been traced to her department. She particularly asked for an MI High team to investigate after the Prime Minister told her about your role in capturing the Crime Minister."
Aneisha watched the older woman's body language. She could have sworn that Stella seemed puzzled at the Deputy Prime Minister asking for the MI High team.
Dan was puzzled by something else she had said. "You said, 'an MI High team'," he said.
"What do you mean ?" asked Stella.
"You said 'an MI High' team and not 'the MI High team'," said Dan. "Are there other teams ?" he asked curiously.
"That's nothing to do with you," said Stella sternly. "This is your mission," she paused, "unless of course you don't think you're up to it ?" she asked pointedly.
"What ? No ! I mean, yes, of course we will," stammered Dan, confused by Stella's statement. "Erm," he stumbled, looking at the others.
"Dan's right," said Keri as the others nodded and smiled. "We'll do it."
Ten minutes later, the team were walking through the crowded corridors to their next lesson. "I wonder if we'll get to go to Downing Street," wondered Tom dreamily.
"Well, it makes a change from warehouses and secret underground KORPS bases," grumbled Keri. "Just for once I want to go somewhere where they don't have any rats !" she complained.
"Oh, I don't know. That's not what I've heard about politics," said Dan, straight-faced.
Aneisha giggled and dug him in the ribs. "Better not let the Deputy Prime Minister hear you saying that !" she snorted.
The rest of their day passed in lessons. After lunch, Mr. Flatley was preparing to take his lesson when there was a knock at the door and Mrs. King came in looking flustered. "Mr. Flatley, I've been given this message to pass on to your," she explained, handing Mr. Flatley a piece of paper. He read it, and looked astonished. He read it again.
"Well, class. I am really at a loss for words. Four pupils from this school have been selected to go to Downing Street in London to work with the Deputy Prime Minister, for one month, as special advisers on Young Peoples' Issues," said Mr. Flatley. "Isn't that marvellous ?" he asked, beaming happily.
"Let me guess, that would be Dan, Aneisha, Tom and Keri ?" asked Preston sarcastically.
"How on earth did you guess that ?" asked Mr. Flatley in amazement.
"Because it ALWAYS IS THEM !" howled Preston, banging his head off the desk top. "If there's any selecting been going on, it's them. It's always them !" he complained loudly.
The four agents glanced at one another guiltily. It was always them, but it was hardly their fault !
"Now Preston, I think you might be exaggerating slightly," protested Mr. Flatley.
"I would give my right arm for a month in Downing Street !" wailed Preston. "Just think what I could do !"
The rest of the class glanced at one another and eyes were rolled. "Yes, well, maybe it's the best thing for all concerned Preston ?" suggested Mr. Flatley quietly, with a relieved grimace. He too was thinking of all the things that Preston might do in Downing Street if he got an opportunity. Preston was very interested in saving the planet, which was a good thing. However, his plans for doing this always seemed to involve banning something that everyone else enjoyed.
"Oh, apparently, you're to be excused lessons from tomorrow and you take up your new responsibilities. Well, this is indeed an honour. Good luck to all of you !" said Mr. Flatley happily. "Now, French !" he said and everyone groaned.
At the end of the lesson, Preston approached the four agents as they quietly discussed their assignment. "Um, sorry Preston," said Aneisha. "We didn't ask for this you know," she added.
Preston shrugged his shoulders gloomily. "It's not your fault," he sighed. "If you do get a chance though, could you put in a word for whales ?" he asked pleadingly.
"Wales ? What do you want to go to Wales for ?" asked Dan in confusion.
"No ! Whales !" said Preston, holding his head. "Oh forget it !" he hissed, before storming out of the classroom.
"Oh, whales !" said Dan in realisation. "What ?" he demanded huffily, as the others all fell about laughing.
