S.T.I.N.K.B.O.M.B. (23 page)

Archie raised his hands as the faceless boiler suit turned and lumbered towards him. Standing his ground, Archie cycled his arms like pistons. But to his surprise, his hands bounced off the
guard’s strangely squidgy body. As the guard towered over him, Archie threw punches to his stomach and chest but every time his fists just seemed to spring back uselessly.

‘It’s like fighting Jabba the Hutt,’ Archie panted.

Grabbing Archie roughly by the shoulders, the guard drove him across the room, knocking the desk over and slamming him against the wall. Holding one forearm across Archie’s face, the guard
pinned him back with his considerable weight. Panicking, Archie found that he couldn’t breathe. His enemy’s spongy arm was suffocating him like a pillow.

‘Put him down!’ Barney ordered. He began throwing punches at the guard’s back but they literally bounced off. Stepping back, he tried one of Archie’s spinning back-kicks
but he gave up after the fourth attempt, having failed to get both feet off the ground. Realising he would need some sort of weapon to defeat the guard, Barney turned his attention to the
overturned desk, searching desperately through the contents of its drawers for a suitable implement.

Archie knew he didn’t have long. His eyes were ballooning and his lungs were burning. Frantically failing his hands, he slapped at the guard’s hooded face and scrabbled helplessly
against the wall. He could feel his vision and his hopes fading.

Then, as one arm flapped feebly above his head, his fingers brushed against something solid.

Maybe this fight wasn’t quite over after all!

Blindly raising his other arm Archie gripped the object with both hands and, harnessing every ounce of fight he had in his body, yanked it with all his strength. He felt it come loose and, as it
dropped to the floor, guided its trajectory and added a little energy of his own, smashing the TV screen on to the guard’s head.

Archie felt the guard’s grip on him relax and he thought his battle was won. But his opponent quickly recovered, angrily shoving him against the wall with more force than before.

Peering up from behind the forearm that was obliterating his nose and mouth, Archie reached up for another TV. Again he grabbed the screen and hauled on it for all he was worth, once again
guiding its fall and supplementing its momentum as he slammed it on to the guard’s head.

This time Archie didn’t wait to see if he’d done enough. By the time the second television hit the floor he had already reached up for a third, yanking it from its mounting and
listening to it come crashing down. Sensing victory Archie stretched for one more TV set which he forced down on the guard with extra venom.

The guard’s arms dropped to his sides and he stumbled backwards a couple of steps before dropping to his knees and toppling on to his front. Fighting for breath, Archie looked down at the
huge white figure slumped on the floor, surrounded by shattered screens.

‘Looks like the grown-ups were right after all,’ he said. ‘Too much TV really is bad for you.’

Are you OK?’ Barney gasped.

‘I’m fine,’ Archie replied. As he spoke he noticed his friend was brandishing a shatterproof ruler like a knife. ‘Is that the best weapon you could find?’ he asked.
‘Were you going to use it to set him straight on a few things?’

Barney grinned sheepishly. ‘I think I would have got the measure of him.’

As Archie glanced down he noticed one of the guard’s gloves had come loose revealing a section of his arm that was covered in brick-red skin. Gingerly Archie reached down, gripped a
fistful of the guard’s hood and hauled it off. As the mask was removed the guard’s head spilt out on to the floor like a big rust-coloured marshmallow. Archie felt faint. There was no
neck or chin or indeed any discernible features, just an amorphous mass of squidginess, tapering slightly towards its rounded crown. Lifting the head with his foot, Archie could make out two beady
black eyes and a tiny opening for a mouth in the middle of the spongy mass.

A sense of dread gripped Archie as he removed the guard’s boots and gloves to discover that he had no hands or feet. Each of his thick, squashy limbs culminated in a blunt nub that was,
apart from the absence of the eyes and mouth, identical to his head.

‘What
is
it?’ Barney asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Archie replied, a shiver rippling up his back. ‘It’s like a giant starfish or something.’

Barney stared pale-faced at the creature they’d just knocked out. ‘That’s so creepy’

‘I know. But we need to hurry’ Archie said firmly, forcing himself to focus on the task ahead instead of the mutant at his feet. ‘We’ve got bigger fish to fry.’ As
he spoke he noticed three boiler suits hanging on hooks next to the doorway. ‘Let’s get our disguises on and get moving. Finn, come in and close the door.’

Archie handed out the suits and the friends started pulling them on. As Archie zipped himself up to his chin he noticed the pockets of Barney’s hoody bulging with sweets
and chocolate.

‘Where’d you get them from?’

‘The hotel minibar,’ Barney beamed, patting the snacks now hidden under his disguise. ‘Hunger is an agent’s worst enemy.’

‘Really?’ said Archie, hauling on his boots. ‘I’d have thought fighting Stickman again or a school of giant mutated starfish might be slightly more dangerous than a
rumbly tummy, but there you go.’

When all three had finished dressing they checked each other out.

‘Looking good,’ said Archie, his hood bobbing enthusiastically. ‘It’s amazing the suits all fit so well, especially when you think about what a funny shape the starfish
guy is.’

The other two turned their whole bodies to exchange shrugs.

‘So here’s the plan,’ said Archie. ‘We’ll split up and go out on a recce. Finn, you come with me. If anyone finds Doom and his captives, let the others know.’
He tapped his hood by his ear to remind everyone they were equipped to stay in touch. ‘Any questions?’

When neither answered, Archie opened the door and stepped into the corridor followed by Finn and Barney. They headed along the passageway towards the T-junction.

As they neared the end of the corridor Archie’s heart leaped into his mouth. Two large figures dressed in white boiler suits and carrying clipboards rounded the corner and started heading
straight towards them.

Remembering that he was disguised head to toe in the boiler suit, Archie straightened his back and strode confidently towards the oncoming enemy, flanked by Barney and
Finn.

As they passed each other Archie caught his breath and his muscles tensed involuntarily, but Doom’s two henchmen barely seemed to notice the three slightly smaller guards heading the other
way At the T-junction Archie paused to take a deep breath. It was hot inside the hood and he could already feel beads of sweat worming their way down his temples.

‘X-ray to Yankee – what’s your status?’ Gemma’s voice sounded in Archie’s ear.

‘We’re under cover,’ Archie murmured. ‘One guard is down. We’re going to split up and look around.’

‘Copy that. I spoke to IC. She’s furious with us, by the way. She’s sending a task force but they won’t be here for at least another hour.’

‘So it’s down to us.’ Archie’s tone was determined.

‘Also, I’ve done some research on Doctor Doom’s renovations since he moved in. He had a company that specialises in digging mine shafts on site for a year.’

‘Mine shafts?’

‘And another thing. He paid a firm called Splash Out eighty grand this time last year. I hacked into their company files and they billed a certain Y. Villenemi for installing an
Olympic-sized swimming pool.’

‘But that outside pool has been here since Romario lived here,’ Archie said.

‘I know, it’s weird. I’ll let you know if I find anything else. Out.’

Archie surveyed the corridor in both directions. It was empty.

‘You go left,’ he instructed Barney. ‘We’ll go right. Let me know if you find anything.’

Barney gave him a thumbs up.

A short distance along the corridor Archie and Finn came across a door. Archie rotated the locking lever and nudged it open a couple of inches. It led on to a circular metal grille platform
– the landing of a spiral staircase that descended through a vertical shaft into the rock. Remembering what Gemma had said about Dr Doom hiring the excavation specialists, Archie’s
curiosity was aroused. There was no one about so he pushed the door fully open and hurried down the stairs, urging Finn to follow.

After descending about twenty metres into the mountain they came across another door which led to a vast underground room containing three long marble workbenches laden with glass containers of
every imaginable shape and size. There were Pyrex cylinders and spherical vases and conical jugs joined by wiggly glass tubes and rubber pipes. Some contained vivid liquids bubbling over a Bunsen
burner while others were full of slimy gunk that seemed to be fermenting in its own gases.

‘It’s some sort of science lab,’ Archie whispered.

Clusters of figures in boiler suits were studying their experiments, measuring viscosities and temperatures and noting the results studiously.

Archie and Finn ventured into the laboratory, weaving slowly between the huddled figures without being noticed.

‘That’s funny,’ Archie muttered. ‘I’d have thought coming into a chemistry lab we’d cause a bit more of a
reaction
.’

Finn said nothing but Archie suspected that he was blinking at him vacantly.

When he reached the far wall, which was formed of a single sheet of blue glass, Archie rounded the end of a workbench to make his way back to the staircase. As he turned he thought he saw
something move across the wall, a familiar torpedo-shaped silhouette that seemed to glide behind the glass. When he looked directly at the glass the shape had gone and he was left wondering whether
he’d imagined it. But before he could process the information his attention was snatched by something altogether more horrifying.

The adjacent wall of the laboratory was lined with shelves that were stacked with large glass jars and oversized test tubes. Each vessel contained different amounts of a pink substance that
looked like a cross between jelly and raw meat. It reminded Archie of a sheep’s lung he’d watched being dissected in biology once. As if that wasn’t revolting enough, the shelves
were labelled with two words that traced an icy finger down Archie’s spine.

He realised that the grisly pink blobs were samples of living tissue – the leftovers of Doom’s twisted experiments. A few of the organisms throbbed with some
helpless inner pulse; others still bore the trademarks of their original form – a beak here, a few scales there, the odd eye staring out ghoulishly.

Archie felt sick. All he could think about was his father being reduced to one of these pathetic samples. He
had
to get out of this lab and find where Doom was keeping him. Archie glanced
at his watch – 1.45. In fifteen minutes Doom would put his evil plan into action. Feeling the frantic panic rising inside him, he marched towards the exit.

At the end of the shelf one particular test tube caught Archie’s eye. Like the others it contained a dollop of gibbering tissue, but something in its midst was glinting in the harsh
clinical light of the lab. As he stopped to study it more closely Archie recognised the shiny object and noticed that the tube was labelled with a series of digits.

He understood immediately what the numbers meant. Pausing to check no one was looking his way Archie grabbed the test tube and slipped it into the pocket of his boiler suit.
Then he led Finn smartly to the exit, trying to suppress the almost overwhelming urge to sprint for the door. He was within a few feet of escaping the lab when a tall figure dressed in the
seemingly obligatory hooded boiler suit stepped across his path.

‘Hold it!’ the figure ordered.

Archie’s stomach felt like a rock. Busted, he thought. It had only been a matter of time before somebody noticed two figures that were shorter and slighter than everyone else sneaking
about the laboratory.

‘Where are you going with that sample?’ the figure demanded, gesturing at Archie’s pocket.

‘What, this?’ Archie said, feigning surprise. ‘Oh just to, you know, er . . . Gamma . . . Sector.’

‘There is no Gamma Sector.’ The figure crossed his arms resolutely.

Double busted, thought Archie. ‘Didn’t you read the memo?’ he argued. ‘The sectors have all been redesignated because of a possible code amber. Gamma Sector is the new
secret identifier for the room Doctor Doom is in right now. He wants this sample and I don’t want to keep him waiting because some drone isn’t up to speed with the latest operational
protocol.’

The figure’s stance softened slightly and Archie stepped past him, hoping to make it through the door before the guard could analyse the plausibility of what he’d been told. Archie
turned the locking lever and swung the door open.

‘Stop!’ the figure commanded.

Archie groaned.