The Great Brain Robbery by Anna Kemp Page A

the corridor. ‘Where are you taking me?!
Heeeelp!’ he yelled. Frankie and Neet exchanged alarmed glances. The door clicked shut.
    Dr Gore was white with fury. ‘You told me they’d be here!’ he spluttered. ‘We must find them IMMEDIATELY!’
    ‘I don’t see why you’re throwing such a tantrum,’ Marvella tutted. ‘So what if we don’t find them? It’s too late for them to stop us now.’
    ‘Oh-ho!’ Dr Gore spluttered through his moustache. ‘You don’t know what the little vandals are capable of! Frankie Blewitt and Anita Banerjee are vicious little crooks, I
tell you, criminal masterminds!’
    ‘Calm yourself!’ Marvella hissed slowly, like a snapping icicle. ‘People are staring. Now you have a job to do, so slap on a smile, get up there and get on with it!’
    Marvella’s orders were as clear as crystal. Dr Gore mopped his enormous forehead, ratcheted up a tense grin and returned to the admiring crowd.
    ‘This is all very impressive, Professor,’ ventured a man with a wispy moustache. ‘But . . . um . . . is it entirely ethical? I mean, it all seems a little . . . extreme,
don’t you think?’ The audience murmured uncomfortably while Dr Gore’s yellow eyes flared with contempt.
    ‘My dear ssssir,’ he sneered, ‘scientific progress demands—’ But Marvella didn’t let him get any further.
    ‘At Marvella’s,’ she piped up shrilly, ‘we will go to great lengths to give children what they want for Christmas. We are extreme, yes, and I’m not afraid to say
it. Extremely committed to children’s happiness, and . . .’ she added with a wink, ‘extremely committed to your bank balance.’ The audience chuckled and did not press any
further. After all, why stand in the way of progress? Why stand in the way of children’s happiness?
    ‘One more thing,’ Gore hissed. ‘To make sure everything goes to plan, we are keeping the children under tight surveillance. Last week we targeted a test-group from the local
school.’ The screen flicked on to show security camera footage of the Cramley children on their visit to the toyshop.
    ‘Good grief,’ gasped Frankie. ‘That’s you, Neet, look. And there’s Esther, and Jasmine, and Benny.’
    Dr Gore wrinkled his nose with displeasure and continued.
    ‘Each of these children was given a tracking device, so that we can keep an eye on their movements. We want to know their migration patterns. Do they travel in groups, or on their own? How
fast do they move past shop windows? And so on.’
    ‘I don’t remember getting a tracking device,’ said Neet. ‘I don’t get it.’
    The projection screen flicked on to show a bird’s-eye view of the town with several dozen small red dots moving around it.
    ‘Each dot,’ crowed Dr Gore, ‘represents a child of Cramley school and . . .’
    ‘Wow!’ whispered Neet, dazzled by the technical wizardry. ‘That’s pretty cool!’
    ‘No, Neet,’ said Frankie, turning pale. Dr Gore had halted mid-sentence and was glaring silently at a spot on the map. Frankie thought he could hear the scientist’s blood
beginning to simmer. ‘Empty your pockets, Neet!’ whispered Frankie urgently.
    Neet did as Frankie said and – along with a few hairy toffees and a crusty old hankie – an
I Love Marvella’s
badge came tumbling out.
    ‘That’s it, Neet!’ Frankie panicked. ‘That’s the tracking device! The badge!’ Frankie peeped through the spyhole and saw Dr Gore striding off the stage
towards them, his long fingers twitching like angry spiders. ‘He knows we’re here!’

 

    The audience gasped as two children in animal masks shot out from under the drinks trolley, dived through Dr Gore’s legs and flew out of the room faster than a pair of
rocket-propelled rollerskates.
    ‘Bleeeeewiiiiit!!! Baaaaanerjeeeeeeeee!!!!’ the scientist shrieked in his chipmunky voice. ‘Get back here!!’ But Frankie and Neet were doing no such thing. They tore down
the stairs as fast as their legs