(Jenny's POV)
Oscar and I arrive at a warehouse located on the Isle of Dogs at around 11:30 P.M. It may look like your seemingly innocent, large plain building from all outside appearances but on the inside, is something truly sinister. You see, MI9 have discovered that Colombian drug lord, Muño Martí, has been smuggling drugs out of the UK and they have assigned Oscar and I to find out how he's doing it. So we are posing as members of the Russian Mafia who are interested in buying Martí's… smuggled goods. My ensemble features a dark blue coat dress with golden trim, stylish black boots, a dark brown faux fur ushanka (a traditional Russian hat) and matching faux fur muff, along with a long flowing auburn wig. And Oscar is wearing a crimson red coat, boldly embellished with black and metallic golden accents, black trousers and black leather gloves, a black faux fur ushanka, and black leather boots enhance the soldier motif as he is posing as my bodyguard, as well as the help of the Age-Deceiving Pill to make him look older. He's also wearing a dark brown wig and a gold ring with a ruby on top.
"OK, this is the place," I say. "You ready?"
"Let's do it," Oscar replies.
We walk up to the door and Oscar knocks. A few seconds later, a small window on the door slides open and a pair of amber eyes stare at me and Oscar. Afterwards the window slides shut and the door opens, revealing a lean and fairly well built, average-sized young man with dark brown hair, wearing jeans and a dark-hooded sweatshirt.
"Come," he says, "the boss is waiting for you."
We enter the warehouse. After the man shuts the door we follow him, going past the aisles of storage racks that are filled with hundreds of thousands of boxes, and lots of people filling the shelves with those boxes. We keep going until we reach an office located on the other side of the warehouse. Inside, we see a tan-skinned, white-haired man wearing a midnight blue suit and a white shirt counting money – Muño Martí.
"Wait here," the young man says. He knocks on the door and then opens it. "Boss, your customer is here."
Martí looks up at me and bursts into a smile. "Ah yes! Miss Ivanov – come in, come in," he says, putting the money away.
Alexandra Ivanov is my cover name, to further my disguise.
"Muño, how good it is to see you again," I say in a Russian accent, air kissing him on the cheeks.
"The feeling is mutual, Alexandra," says Martí. He looks at Oscar. "And, er, who is this?"
"My bodyguard. He is to make sure that the deal goes… swimmingly."
"Oh, do not worry your pretty little Russian head about it, my dear. I could never double-cross a gorgeous, glamorous, and oh-so-elegant beauty should as you."
No – but I can.
"So let's get down to business," says Martí, sitting at his desk. I sit across from him, with Oscar standing by my side. "So, Miss Ivanov, how much are you willing to pay for my goods?"
I snap my fingers. Oscar lays a large, sleek briefcase on the table and opens it, revealing a stack on money in £50 notes.
"£20 million," I say. "Do not worry – they are all unmarked."
I can see Martí practically drooling at the briefcase full of money. He takes out a stack of the money, and then he brings out a small black device and scans the money. The device gives of a beeping sound and Martí nods his head. Then he uses the device and scans the rest of the stack in the briefcase – to which the device beeps to as well.
"Sorry about that, my dear," he says. "But I have to make sure that the money that I'm about to receive is… legit."
I let out a mental sigh of relief. Martí has fallen for it. Only the top two stacks of money are legit – the rest are blank pieces of paper, shaped as banknotes.
"So, Miss Ivanov, how many boxes do you want?" Martí asks.
"Boxes?" I puzzle.
"Yes – every box in this warehouse contains Girl Scout cookies that are laced with cocaine."
"Ooh. So that's how you're getting them out of the country."
Martí nods. "Right under the noses of the police and MI9. I even possess a microfilm with the recipe to turn cocaine into cookies." He takes out a small, black film case from the inside of his jacket to show me. Then he puts the case back in his pocket.
"How very clever."
"Well, I'm not just a pretty face, you know. So, how many boxes?"
"Hmmmm," I say thoughtfully. "How about ten thousand boxes and… I'll have dinner with you for free." I batter my eyelashes at him. Martí staggers, blinking rapidly. He turns red and looks totally idiotic. I sigh and stretch my arms, making out they're aching. This action has an amazing effect on my coat. The buttons strain. Martí positively glows. "So… do we have a deal?"
"Do we?" he says ecstatically. Then he clears his throat. "I mean, yes, we do." He stands up and extends his hand and we shake, cementing the deal.
Suddenly, the doors to the warehouse bursts open, and there's a cacophony of voices and stamping of feet.
"This is MI9! Hands on your head and get down on the floor – now!"
"What? MI9?" says Martí, standing up and going to the door to see the commotion. "But… how did they find out?"
"I'll give you the first clue," I say in my normal voice.
Martí whirls around. "Miss Ivanov?"
"Actually" – I whip off my ushanka and auburn wig – "it's Jenny Brownstone – MI9. And this is my teammate, Oscar Cole."
"What's up?" he says, removing his hat and wig.
"You… MI9?" Martí says in disbelief. "But… but I thought we had a connection!"
"OK, two things: one, I've got a boyfriend and two, the only connection you'll be getting is a very bad Internet one because you're gonna be spending the rest of your days in prison."
Martí's face turns into a scowl. "Grrrr," he growls. Then he goes into his pocket and whips out a handgun – only for Oscar to point the ring at the gun, firing a red beam at the gun. "Ouch!" Martí screams, dropping the red hot gun and watches in horror as the gun melt into a black blob.
"Never underestimate the power of the Heat-Ray Ring, Martí," says Oscar, pointing the ring at him. "Now put your hands on your head and get down on the ground."
Martí's eyes glares angrily again, but he does what Oscar says and places his hands behind his head and gets down on his knees.
"There's no way this will stand up in court," he says. "You have no evidence saying that I'm smuggling drugs."
"That's what you think," I say, standing up to removing one of Oscar's fake eyebrows. "Eyebrow Cameras – designed to video capture and record its primary function, i.e. your confession of how you smuggle drugs, as well as the microfilm containing the recipe for turning cocaine into cookies. Pretty neat gadget, don't you think?"
"You heartless, conniving bitch!" Martí curses in Spanish.
Just then, the door opens and in enters the SWAT team, their guns pointing at Martí. Two black-suited agents come into the office; one of them applies handcuffs on Martí behind his back. Then the agents pull Martí to his feet and take him away.
"You haven't heard the last of me!" Martí yells. "D'you hear me? You haven't heard the last of me!"
"Yeah, yeah, tell it to someone who gives a toss," I say. "Come on, Oscar, let's get out of here."
We collect our hats and wigs as well as the briefcase and head out of the warehouse as the agents begin to confiscate the cookie-coke boxes. Once we're outside, we find that Frank and Chief Agent Stark are waiting for us.
"Excellent work, guys," says Frank, coming up to us.
"Thanks," Oscar and I say in unison.
Frank turns to Stark. "Didn't they do well, Chief Stark?"
Stark sighs and rolls his eyes. "I suppose you were… adequate on your mission."
I roll my eyes in return. Stark is a real charmer, isn't he?
Frank turns back to me. "Are you OK? Martí didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No, I'm fine," I reply. "I just wanna go home and sleep." I let out a huge yawn and head for the car. "Here you go, Chief," I say, handing the briefcase to Stark who glares at me – but I choose to ignore it. "Until next time."
I'm hoping there isn't a next time. This has to be one busy month – twenty-three missions! I have never been so exhausted in my life. Don't get me wrong, I love being a spy and saving the world, but there are times where it can be strenuous and tiring. It's also extremely time-consuming, meaning I can't do any of the things I want to do – I mean, when was the last time I pampered myself? Read a magazine? Or watched a movie?
I just hope that this mission will be the last – for a while.
xxoOoxx
The next day at school during PE, I've got everyone doing the multi-stage fitness test, also known as the bleep test while I sit back and watch. I say watch, I mean while I sit back and rest my eyes behind the sunglasses that I'm wearing so no-one knows that I'm sleeping. I arrived at St Hope's so spectacularly late this morning. I overslept. Then I took such a long time getting ready because I was so tired. And then I had to walk because I missed the bus.
By the time I make it to school the bell has already gone, meaning I've missed first period. Luckily, today is Tuesday, meaning I only have PE to teach so I have the rest of the day to find a quiet spot to rest – or in any case, all throughout the lesson.
I wake up with a jump when the bell goes, and I realized that my arm has fallen asleep.
"Hey."
I look up, startled to see Carrie staring down at me. She's the only one in the gym as everyone else has gone to break.
"Carrie."
"Late night?" She seems genuinely concerned, and I give a wry smile.
"You got that right," I reply. "I've never worked so hard in my life."
"Well it looks like that you're gonna have to work a bit harder because Frank wants us down at HQ."
"Great," I mumble – but I follow Carrie out of the gym to the storage cupboard. After we enter the tiny room, I pull the lever and the lift takes us down to HQ. When we arrive there, we find Rose and Oscar at the computers and Frank looking frantic with worry. "Frank, what's going on?" I ask.
"We have a national crisis," he says, looking up at me. "The Prime Minister has been kidnapped."
"What?" I gasp, my eyes going wide. "When did this happen?"
"About half an hour ago. He was supposed to be on his way to the Houses of Parliament but he never showed up. We think that he may have got in what he thought was his official car but it was a substitute. The real car was found near St James's Park with its driver bound and gagged."
"Rose is going through CCTV to find where the bogus car could be heading," says Oscar.
"And I think I may have something," Rose says. "According to footage, the bogus car was last seen heading for the Docklands area of east London."
"But that could anywhere between Tower Hamlets and Newham," says Carrie.
"We can worry about that later," I say. "Right now, we've got a Prime Minister to save. Gadgets, Frank?"
"Just these." He holds up a cologne bottle and a tube of lipstick. "The Instant Freeze Cologne and the Laser Lipstick. Also, take these masks so the captors don't see who you are." He hands each of us black domino masks. After we put on the masks, Frank hands me his car keys and Rose, Carrie, Oscar and I leave HQ.
xxoOoxx
We arrive at the Docklands region in less than twenty minutes when Rose receives a call from Frank saying that there's a black car with no license plate parked in a remote warehouse called Tobacco Dock located near Wapping. He sends the map of the location to Rose's Spy-Pod with a red dot flashing, and I follow the map to the location.
Five minutes later we arrive at Tobacco Dock. It is a brick building with many brick vaults and some fine ironwork. There's a small quayside loading bay with two ships, and at its entrance stands a seven foot tall bronze sculpture of a boy standing in front of a tiger. And parked opposite the entrance is the black car with no license plate.
The team and I climb out of the car and head to the large almost-square building in Tobacco Dock marked 'Tobacco Warehouse'. We enter the warehouse with caution, looking around the unoccupied building for clues as to where the Prime Minister could be.
Suddenly, I hear low, muffled voices. It's coming from the far corner of the warehouse.
"Can you hear that?" I ask the others.
For a few seconds, we don't hear anything.
Then I hear the voices again.
"I heard it," says Carrie.
"Me too," says Oscar and Rose.
"Right. Let's go," I say. I head to the door at the corner of the warehouse, the others following behind. Oscar and I stand by one side of the door; Rose and Carrie stand on the other side. "OK, on the count of three. One… two… three!" I kick the door down and rush into the next room and get into a defensive stance. "Nobody move! This is MI…" I stop suddenly when I see that three people who look around the same age as Rose, Oscar and Carrie dressed in futuristic spy suits with knee pads, elbow guards and boots tying up the Prime Minister's captors, while a fourth person, who looks about my age, wearing a zipped jacket with gold-and-white stripes and matching trousers is releasing the Prime Minster from his restrains.
"Huh?" Rose cries out.
"What is going on?" Carrie asks.
"Who the hell are these guys?" Oscar demands.
"We are the people who just recused the Prime Minister," the young man replies, helping the Prime Minister to his feet. "I'm Benny Braunstein. Those are my teammates – Ross Chang, Carter Stuart and Opal Coleman, and together we are the World Intelligence Network – or WIN for short."
"And I am forever grateful for you saving me," says the Prime Minister, shaking Benny's hand. "Thank you very much."
The team and I stare in shock at the WIN agents. They look like gender swap counterparts of us. My opposite, Benny, is about six feet tall and well built, and handsome, with fair skin, both brown hair and eyebrows, and blue eyes. Rose's equal, Ross, is of Chinese descent, and slender, with black hair and dark brown eyes. Carrie's match, Carter, is strong, with a sturdy physique, given the tightness of his spy suit, and good-looking, with medium skin tone, both orange hair and eyebrows, and blue-green eyes. And Oscar's parallel, Opal, is a very beautiful young woman with tan skin and long, lustrous dark brown hair reaching the waist, sparkling emerald green eyes, and a distinct hourglass figure.
"You have got to be kidding me," I say.
"I can assure you that this is no joke," says Benny. "We are the best of the best."
"We are the cream of the crop," Carter joins in.
"We are the elite," Ross adds.
"Basically, we're better than you," Opal gloats, and then sticks her tongue out at us.
"Real mature," Oscar mutters.
Just then, I hear voices coming from behind the team and me, and suddenly, a large group of journalists, photographers, news reporters and a camera crew come into the room, shoving the team and me to the side. The press surround the PM and the WIN agents, all at once asking the PM and the agents questions while the photographers take pictures of them.
"Who the hell invited these guys?" I say in disbelief.
"Yes, yes, my team are the ones who saved our beloved Prime Minister from these miscreants," a woman says, nodding to the two bound captors. She's a slender, curly-haired blonde woman with bright green eyes in her late-thirties, early-forties, dressed in a black suit with golden vest.
"Does that answer your question?" Rose asks.
"We are the new spy agency and rival organization to MI9. We are WIN – that's the World Intelligence Network. We deal with any threats to the world that fall outside the scope of normal law enforcement groups. The agency and the team are led by me, Frances York – founder and administrator. Unlike MI9, WIN is a thousand times more effective than them, with the best advanced hi-tech gadgetry and technology in the world, as well as the finest scientists and high skilled agents. So MI9, if you're watching, and I know those four are…" Frances turns to the team and me with a smirk on her face – as does the camera crew and photographers, "you've got some competition on your hands."
I feel my cheeks burning. "Come on, guys, let's get out of here," I say, and I exit the room, the team following behind. "Who the hell do those WIN guys think they are?" I exclaim when we leave the warehouse, ripping off my mask. "Capturing the criminals before we arrive and then to rub our faces in it, call a news crew to tell the world that they are much better than MI9. It's unbelievable!"
"I'm just hoping that no-one in MI9 saw the interview," says Carrie, hopping into the car.
As I get behind the wheel, my communicator beeps. "Yes?" I answer impatiently.
"Get down to HQ immediately," Frank tells me. "Chief Agent Stark would like to have a word with you, Rose, Oscar and Carrie."
"Wonderful," I mutter, hanging up.
"You just had to jinx it, didn't you?" Rose tells Carrie.
"Sorry," says Carrie, looking sheepish and apologetic.
"Let's just get this over and done with," I say, and I pull the car out and head for Thames House.
(Frank's POV)
I'm with Stark in his office, waiting for Rose, Oscar, Carrie and Jenny to arrive. Stark is a right mood today. He just saw the news conference about the Prime Minister and how he was saved by a group of agents who call themselves WIN – the World Intelligence Network. Stark wants to know who they really are and how they knew about the PM being kidnapped.
There's a knock at the door. I go over to the door and open it. I give a sympathetic smile to Jenny and the others as they enter the room, and I close the door.
"So… would anyone like to explain to me what just happened today?" Stark demands as we stand across him in his office.
"I think it's pretty obvious, really," says Oscar. "Someone kidnapped the Prime Minister and we were given the mission on saving him and capturing the criminals."
"But when we arrived at the location, these people who call themselves 'WIN' did the job that we were supposed to do," Rose adds.
"And then to rub salt in our wounds, they call a news conference to tell the whole country just how super-effective they are," Carrie finishes.
"Mm-hm," Stark nods, his lips tight. "So who are these WIN people, huh? What do they do?"
"They're the World Intelligence Network who is engaged in competition with us," Jenny explains. "I mean duh! Didn't you watch the conference?"
Stark is about to blow his top, but I intervene. "I think what Chief Stark really wants to know is if we can trust them. They could be working with SKUL for all we know."
"They seem legit enough."
We turn to the door to find Zeke standing at the doorway.
"They have an official website that provides news and information, publications, the offices of WIN, and careers," he tells us. "They even have a Facebook page and a Twitter account."
"But can we trust them?" I ask.
"No way!" says Jenny, crossing her arms. "They look like stuck-up, wannabe snobs who enjoy sweeping in and grabbing the credit before anybody else can."
Everyone in the room stares at Jenny.
"What?" she asks puzzled.
"Stuck-up, wannabe snobs who enjoy sweeping in and grabbing the credit before anybody else can?" Stark repeats. "Doesn't that remind you of anyone?"
Jenny professes a scoff. "Er, no."
Rose, Carrie, Oscar and I exchange glances.
"Hey! When Jen was the Cat, she didn't call a BBC news crew every time she captured a criminal, did she?" says Zeke.
Then it comes to her. "Hey, wait a minute! Are you saying that I'm a stuck-up, wannabe snob?" Jenny demands.
"Well, if the shoe fits…" says Stark.
"Oh, this shoe is gonna fit all right – right up your arse!"
She's about to pounce on Stark, but I step in the way.
"No, Jen," I say, giving her a stern look – a look I always use whenever she and Stark lock horns. After a couple of seconds, Jenny backs down, crossing her arms in a huff as she glares at Stark.
"Anyway," she says, "what WIN did was a total fluke. An unlikely chance occurrence. A surprising piece of luck. It's not like it's gonna happen again."
"Jenny's right," agreed Oscar. "Besides, they're called the World Intelligence Network – meaning that their agents will be doing missions all over the world."
"I agree with Jen and Oscar," says Carrie. "I don't think we've got nothing to worry about."
"See? WIN go about their business and we go about ours. Everybody's happy."
"I just hope you're right, agents," says Stark sternly. "For your sake and for everybody else's in MI9. That's all for today – you are dismissed."
We all leave the office, leaving Stark to do his paperwork or whatever it is he has to do.
"Well, I'll see you guys later," says Zeke. He winks at Rose which causes her to blush. "See you later Rose."
"Bye, Zeke," she says, giving him a little wave.
Zeke walks off down the corridor while the rest of us go down the opposite route.
"Has Stark ever considered applying for WIN?" says Jenny. "Because they're looking for smug, self-satisfying dicks like him."
"Now, now, Jen, don't be mean," I say firmly.
"What, it's true! I mean did you see that Frances York woman? Looking all high and mighty and thinking that she is superior to those of other people, i.e. us. And that Benny Braunstein guy – argh! I have never met anyone as conceited as that guy!"
"That Opal girl was real immature," says Oscar. "Sticking her tongue at us like that like a five-year-old. Shows real maturity, that one."
"But it's the way that Frances belittled us in front of the media – that's what really getting my goat," says Carrie. "Looking her nose down at us like we're dirt."
"My question about WIN is how they knew about the Prime Minister's kidnap," says Rose. "And where he was."
"Maybe they're like Big Brother – they're watching our every move."
"Or maybe they're like News International and they hacked someone's phone," says Jenny.
"Who knows?" I say. "But like Jenny said, what they did today was a fluke and it probably won't happen again. The chances of that happening again are about one in 285,000."
"I hope you're right. Because the last thing I want those irritatingly arrogant people to do is try and put MI9 out of business."
We murmur in agreement as we exit the building. Then we pile into the car and drive back to St Hope's.
(Jenny's POV)
The next day, news about WIN's debut spread around the school like wildfire. Everybody was gushing over about how 'mega awesome' they are. Apparently, WIN is so 'mega awesome' that I can't even get anyone to concentrate on today's Art lesson – though the lesson is to paint still-life.
I like animated life a lot more, but I'm only doing what the timetable is telling me to do, and I have to do my best to make it interesting for the kids. I show them copies of these weirdly lovely seventeenth-century Spanish paintings of cabbages on string, and then I dangle a whole load of real cabbages in the air for them to copy. Scoop has a little go at flicking one cabbage into another to see if they'd go dong dong dong backwards and forwards like those smart executive toys, but they just make a dull thwack and get their strings all tangled. I say that if they don't settle down sharpish I'll lop off their heads and string them up instead.
So they settle, sort of, though Davina keeps moaning that the smell of cabbages is making her feel sick. I have a wander round the room to see how everyone their paintings are progressing. After admiring Avril's efforts I notice a group of girls crowding around Davina, looking duly appreciative. Davina's not one to invent her own painting – she'd rather just copy an idea and then write her name at the bottom of the paper. I head over to her and the group of girls to see what the commotion is about… and I am far from impressed when I see what Davina has painted – it's only that arrogantly and obnoxiously smug douche from WIN, Benny Braunstein.
"Davina!" I exclaim. "You're supposed to be painting cabbages, not some amateur wannabe spy."
"I tried at first, Jenny, I really did but I lost heart," she says. "Besides, painting Benny from WIN is far better than smelly cabbages – he's just so yummy."
The girls around Davina murmur in agreement.
"He and the rest of the WIN agents are all the rage of the Internet message boards. There's even a fan site dedicated to them called the WINners Fan Club. They have photos and information on the agents of WIN. I'm already a member – here's my membership card."
The girls ooh and aah over Davina's membership card, while I stare at them and sigh. Heavily.
"Davina…" I groan, rubbing my forehead, "I don't like still-life paintings as much as you do, but when I give you an assignment I expect you to do it and follow it through. Now turn your paper over and look a little harder at your cabbages. And if you even think about doing another painting of a WIN agent, you're gonna stay behind after school and do a sketch of the entire Art classroom. Capisce?"
Davina quickly turns over her paper and starts sketching the cabbages like mad.
"And the rest of you, back to your seats," I tell the girls hovering around Davina. "And if I hear another word about the agents of WIN, you're gonna stay behind after school and sketch the Art classroom. You got that?"
"Yes, Jenny," the girls say, hurriedly going back to their seats, and painting the cabbages for the last ten minutes of the lesson.
When the bell does go, everyone piles out of the classroom, with the exception of Rose, Oscar and Carrie.
"Can you believe that?" I say to them. "WIN has only been around for nearly twenty-four hours and already they've got a fan club. The world has gone mad."
"Not the world – just Davina," says Oscar, and I giggle.
Just then, my watch communicator starts to vibrate and the tops of the teams' pencil communicators are flashing.
"What's up, Frank?" I answer.
"I've just received word that someone has stolen the Crown Jewels," he says.
"When did this happen?" Rose asks.
"Less than ten minutes ago. The robbers used sleeping gas to knock everyone out and helped themselves to the Jewels. Likely, one of the jewels in one of the crowns is fitted with a tracking device. I'm sending the coordinates to your Spy-Pods and watch communicator right now."
"Thanks, Frank," I say, and then I hang up. A flashing red dot appears on the screen of my watch communicator.
"Come one, spies, let's go stop the criminals – MI9-style," says Carrie.
I smile and follow the team out of the school. We change into our spy suits and head for the location of the robbers and the Crown Jewels.
xxoOoxx
We arrive at our destination nearly an hour later. It's an industrial warehouse in Greenwich where we find a big crowd people around the entrance of the warehouse – the media. They're all trying to peer inside.
"You're kidding me, right?" says Rose, climbing out of the car.
"M-maybe it's not WIN," says Carrie. "Maybe someone else found the robbers and they've called the police."
"And the media?" says Oscar.
I don't say anything. Instead I move towards the crowd, pushing and weaving my way through. When I get to the front, there I see Benny and the rest of the WIN agents standing with the robbers who they have placed handcuffs on. Frances is there as well – soaking up the limelight while holding the bag containing the Crown Jewels.
"I can't believe WIN captured the criminals before we could – again," says Oscar.
"So much for the one in 285,000 chance of it happening again," Rose mutters.
"And how did they find out about the robbery so quickly?" Carrie whispers.
"Once again, my WIN agents have been proven effective to stop these unlawful scoundrels from making off with the Crown Jewels," says Frances. "I'm sure that Her Majesty, the Queen, will be happy to find them back in the Tower of London where they belong." Frances spots the team and me and gives us a very smug smile. "Bad luck, MI9. It seems that we beat you to the punch once again. But don't worry; I'm sure you'll get your criminals next time."
I ball my hands into fists as Frances and the WIN agents take the criminals to their van. The paparazzi are taking pictures of the agents as they do it.
"Grr," I snarl, watching the van drive away.
"Come on, Jenny. Let's go back to St Hope's," says Carrie. "I don't think we're needed here anymore."
I head back to the car with Carrie, Oscar and Rose and head back to school, where I remained in a really bad mood for the rest of the day.
And my mood doesn't lighten up during the next two weeks. Every time we arrive at the location of a criminal, WIN continually manages to capture them before we can. This brings positive publicity to WIN while making MI9 appear ineffective. And it's not just the UK that WIN has this good image – it's all around the world. They've stopped terrorists; attempted assassinations, kidnapping, smuggling rings and any world domination plans before any MI9 agent have a chance to do it. And it's very irritating. Now I know how MI9 felt when I stopped criminals before they could during my time as the Cat.
"Two weeks!" I cry as I walk to school with Rose and Carrie on Friday. "Two weeks since we've had a mission without those bloody vultures who call themselves WIN interfering."
"Annoying as it is, there is a bright side to it," says Carrie.
"And what could that be?" Rose asks.
"Now we have time to do the things that we wanted to do."
"I suppose you're right," I say. "There has been a ton of things I wanted to do – only for WIN to do them before I can!"
Rose and Carrie chuckle at my comment.
"OK, I've got to admit that having this time off spying is fun, but it can also be boring at the same time," I say. "I mean I enjoy shopping as much as the next girl, but it can be dull just going around the same shops over and over again and seeing the same clothes that you saw the first time you went in there." I look at my watch communicator and sigh. "I miss my communicator vibrating to signify that I have a mission."
"I miss analysing data samples," says Rose. "And I miss using the gadgets we need to stop the bad guys."
"I miss using my triple flip sandwich kick on the bad guys," says Carrie.
"But most of all… I miss my spy suit!" I moan.
"Me too," the girls say.
We spot Oscar at the gates. When we meet up with him, we go across the playground and enter the school. But nothing can prepare us for what came next. After we walk through the doors and enter the foyer, we see a large banner, and proclaimed in large black letters: 'WIN APPRECIATION DAY'.
"Someone please tell me that I'm dreaming," I say, staring at the banner in disbelief.
"This is more like a nightmare," says Oscar.
"Or a horror film," says Carrie, looking at two students wearing WIN's spy suits.
"Oh, Miss Brownstone, there you are," says a voice. I turn to see Mr. Flatley coming towards me.
"Mr. F, what is going on?" I ask.
"It's WIN Appreciation Day," he says. "To celebrate the agency's victories over the last few weeks, I've decided to hold a special day to them."
"You have got to be joking," Rose says quietly.
"The festival also comes complete with promotional merchandise, such as pens, bags, T-shirts, keyrings, mugs and badges." Mr Flatley hands me a badge and walks off.
I look at the badge. On it, it says 'You are a WINner'.
"Jesus fucking wept," I say. I find the nearest bin and toss the badge in it.
The day draws on slowly. No matter where I turned, someone is either talking about the agents of WIN or they wearing their merchandise. Either way, there's nowhere for me to hide.
By the time school has finished for the day, I am nearly at the end of my tether.
"I swear to God if someone mentions WIN again, I will punch them!" I say.
"I'm just glad that today is over," says Oscar.
"Not to mention that it's Friday," says Carrie. "So we don't have to hear about WI… I mean those agents for the whole weekend."
"Unless you're watching the news," says Rose. "Or listening to the radio or if you're on the Internet…"
"OK, Rose, I get it."
I pack up the rest of my stuff and leave the classroom when suddenly; I hear a noise I haven't heard in two weeks – my watch communicator vibrating. The team take out their pencil communicators and stare at the blinking red lights flashing on the rubber.
"Could it be…?" says Carrie.
"It has to be," says Rose.
"I think it is," says Oscar.
"Come on, team, let's go save the world!" I say, heading down the corridor to the storage cupboard. We pile in the small room and after Rose pulls the lever, the lift takes us down to HQ.
(Frank's POV)
I anxiously pace around HQ, nibbling my thumbnail waiting for Jenny and the team to arrive. I've just received some news from MI9 that's gonna devastate them.
SWOOSH!
I whirl around. Jenny and the three young spies come running into HQ, their eyes wide with excitement.
"So, Frank, what mission have you got for us today?" Oscar asks.
"Is it a gentleman jewel thief?" Carrie quizzes.
"A kidnapping of a famous person or a head of state?" Rose enquires.
"Or are we protecting someone from an attempted assassination?" Jenny questions.
"Actually, team… it's none of the above," I say.
Their expressions changes from excitement to confusion.
"I, er, I don't get it," Carrie says. "We have no missions?"
"No," I shake my head.
"So why did you call us down here?" Rose asks.
"Erm… well…" I hesitate.
"Frank, what's going on?" Oscar asks.
I let out a sigh. Here goes…
"Team, I have some news – and I'm afraid they're not good," I say. I take a deep breath. "We're being shut down."
"What?!" Rose exclaims. "MI9 is shutting down the MI High project?"
"It's Stark, isn't it?" says Jenny. "He's had in for us since day one. I'm gonna kill him!"
"It's not just the MI High project that's shutting down," I tell them. I take another deep breath. "The whole of MI9 is being shut down."
"Wha…? The whole of MI9… is being shut down?" Jenny repeats. "The whole of MI9? As in the whole organization?"
I nod.
"But… but why?" Carrie asks.
"Since WIN came along, they have been proven to be more well-organized and competent than us, so… they will be replacing MI9."
"So… so we're gonna go back to being normal schoolkids?" Rose asks.
"Yes," I say, nodding sadly. "I'm afraid so."
"But that's not fair!" Oscar exclaims. "WIN has been stopping crime before we even arrive. They don't give us a chance. Even when Jenny was the Cat, she left some cases for us to solve!"
"I'm sorry, Oscar. But there's nothing me or Stark or the Head can do. We have been given orders to clear out our stuff and leave before midnight tonight."
No-one says anything. Oscar stares hard at the ground, a tearful Rose lets Carrie weep on her shoulder and Jenny stands silent, not knowing what to do.
"I'm really sorry, team," I say quietly.
Jenny turns and storms out of HQ.
"Jenny!" I call to her but the lift doors have already closed and it takes her up to the surface. I collapse into my chair with a heavy sigh.
Rose pulls away from Carrie and sniffs. "We, er… I suppose we better get started with the packing up," she says.
"Yeah, erm… yeah, let's get started," I say, getting up again.
I head over to the cupboard and pull out some empty plastic and cardboard boxes and the team and I begin to pack.
(Jenny's POV)
After the lift takes me to the top, I leave the storage cupboard, and I run down the corridor and out to the playground. There are some people still around so I go and find a quiet spot. Once I've found it, I burst into tears.
I can't believe this is happening.
MI9 is being shut down and is gonna be replaced by those bastards at WIN. It's their entire fault that they've forced MI9 to shut down. They keep solving cases and stopping the criminals before we can, making us look incompetent. Like Oscar said, even when I was the Cat, I gave MI9 some credit.
No. No, there's something funny going on at WIN. It's far too much of a coincidence for them to just magically appear at the locations of where the criminals are and then catch them. I mean, how do they do it? What gadgets do they use? And how do they know where the criminal will be way before MI9?
"I think it's time for me to pay the World Intelligence Network a little visit," I say to myself.
I wipe the tears from my face and come out of my hiding place. My phone rings. I take it out of my pocket to see Frank's name flashing on the screen – but I don't take the call. After I put my phone away, I use my watch communicator to change into my spy suit and use the Rocket Go-Go Boots to fly myself over to WIN HQ.