The three of us stare at the sharks in the suits.
The sharks in the suits stare back.
Then lots of things happen at once:
- Metal doors snap shut over all the exits.
- Red lights start flashing.
- The sharks in suits surround us.
A pair of extra-large sharks loom over us. ‘My name is Secret Agent Con,’ says one of them. She has sharp eyes and a purple mohawk. ‘Last name, Seal.’
‘And I’m Frond,’ says the other one. ‘James Frond.’
‘We’re in charge here,’ growls Agent Con. ‘Now tell us who you work for!’
‘Um, H-Hugo?’ I stammer.
‘Hugo, eh?’ says Frond. ‘Must be Sea-I-A. Ocean Defence Department? Finterpol?’
‘Er, he’s our band manager,’ says Hunter.
‘And how’d you get in here?’ barks Agent Con.
‘Through the tunnel under your old-timey phone box, of course,’ says Gilleon.
Agent Con puts her fins on her hips. ‘I told you, Agent Frond,’ she says to the shark next to her. ‘That secret entry is a dud. F.I.S.H. should have gone with a shell-icopter pad on the roof like I suggested.’
Agent Frond rolls his eyes.
‘What’s FISH?’ asks Gilleon. Then his eyes light up. ‘Are you a new chumshake bar? With some kind of retro spy theme? I love those places!’
‘We’re not a chumshake bar!’ cries Agent Frond, throwing up his fins.
‘F.I.S.H. stands for Federal Investigators of Suspicious Hijinks. We’re the top spy agency in the ocean.
And you kids can’t simply bust into our HQ willy-nilly.’
‘P-p-please, Agent Frond,’ I plead. ‘We’re only here because our friend Gnash is missing. We found a clue in his bedroom that led us to this building.’ I hold up the F.I.S.H. business card again.
Agent Frond takes a peek at it. ‘Ugh, not again.’ He turns to the sharks in suits surrounding us. ‘Agent Chip, how many times do we have to tell you – don’t take your business cards on missions!’
A little pygmy shark up the back raises his hand. ‘Sorry, sir!’ he yelps. ‘Won’t happen again, sir!’
‘Wait,’ I say, ‘did you say mission?’ My heart starts to beat faster. ‘So … you must know where Gnash is!’
‘Of course,’ says Agent Con.
‘He’s right over there.’ She points to the front of the room where important-looking sharks are hovering around something. Or is it … someone? They all move aside to reveal …
‘GNASH!’ Hunter, Gilleon and I all shout his name together.
We zoom over and throw our fins around him.
‘We found you!’ cries Hunter.
‘Hunter!’ Gnash cries, beaming. ‘Finley! Gilleon!’
I look around at the sharks in the dark suits and sunglasses. ‘But Gnash … what are you doing here?’ I ask.
Gnash gives us all a toothy grin.
‘Gnash helping to save world.’