“Is this what you meant by ‘we’ve got a big day tomorrow’?” asked Amber. She and her dad were clinging on to the landing skids of a helicopter as it soared over the deserts of Egypt.
“Admit it, it’s not every morning you see a helicopter take off through the top of a pyramid!” roared Spynosaur over the whirling din of the ’copter’s rotor blades. “Good job we were able to leap on to it at the last minute…”
“Couldn’t we just have followed it in the Dino-soarer?” howled Amber, clinging on for dear life.
“A secret agent should start every day with an act of reckless daring. And perhaps a spot of yoga,” replied Spynosaur. “Now hang on!”
Spynosaur climbed up the landing skids and dug his clawed hand into the cabin door, before wrenching it open with an almighty heave. The pilot turned to see the huge dinosaur peering back at him, teeth bared.
“Get,” growled Spynosaur, “OUT.”
“AAAAAAH!” screamed the pilot, diving out of the other side of the ’copter. Spynosaur climbed inside and grabbed the controls.
“How’s the cargo?” asked Amber, clambering up the skids and joining her dad inside the ’copter. She saw a large crate in the centre of the cargo bay. It was filled to the brim with a hundred identical black metal spheres.
“McGuffins! McGuffins galore!” Amber gasped, her eyes wide. “But which one is the super-secret weapon?”
“First the ‘anonymous’ tip-off and now this! It’s more of Ergo Ego’s gameplay,” snarled a frustrated Spynosaur. “But why would he—? Wait.”
Spynosaur squinted. Taped to the dashboard of the helicopter was a sealed letter, with “Spynosaur” written neatly upon the envelope.
“I know that handwriting…” he growled.
“What is it?” asked Amber.
Spynosaur tore open the letter and unfolded it.
“What’s he on about? What antidote?” said Amber.
Spynosaur’s lizard eyes narrowed. He held up the letter and sniffed it.
“It’s a poisoned-pen letter!” Spynosaur growled.
He scrunched the letter in his claw and looked at his ink-stained fingers. “The ink is a deadly neuro-toxin, absorbed through the skin. Ego … tricked us … again. Dia … bol … ical…”
“You all right, Dad? You look even greener than usual,” asked Amber.
Spynosaur shook his head as if trying to stay awake, beads of sweat appearing on his scaly brow.
“Antidote … inside … one of … McGuffins…” he gasped, tapping his Super Secret Spy Watch™ with a clawed finger. “Thirty … seconds … to live…”
“Thirty seconds?” Amber howled. Her father was already swaying woozily from side to side.
Amber raced over to the crate and grabbed one of the spheres. She gripped it in both hands and turned it. It opened with a POP! … but there was nothing inside.
“How do I know which one to choose?” yelled Amber, popping open sphere after sphere – but finding nothing inside. “Dad! How do I know?”
“S’all right…” slurred Spynosaur. “I have … a plan…”
“What plan?” screamed Amber. She turned to see her dad slump forward against the release lever for the cargo door.
VRRRR!
Amber let out a squeak as the helicopter’s cargo door swung open.
A second later she, Spynosaur and the crate of McGuffin spheres were sucked out into the air.
