Johnny steered the truck three kilometres through the thick woodlands, until the outskirts of the Special Forces training facility appeared in the distance.

‘I don’t get it,’ Tim quizzed. ‘Even if Ian knew you were at the Peace Retreat with your dad, why would he betray your location to the bad guys?’

‘Coz he’s evil. Remember that telltale email he sent to Dr Disastrous on our last mission? It almost got us killed. Even though my parents banned him from going online, I know he’s still trying to send covert messages. He has my phone, too, so he must know I’m a walking target.’

‘Hey – maybe both Ian and your dad are Yuri-nators?’

Johnny bit his lip. ‘Okay, now you’re doing my head in!’

Tim pointed at the fortified buildings ahead of them. ‘Can you drive straight onto an army base and get military assistance just by charming the guards at the gates with a wink and a smile?’ he asked.

‘Doubt it – I think a super-sized Lego vehicle might raise some questions, don’t you? I could try M and M and see if they can get us official clearance from the top.’

Tim shook his head. ‘Clearance for you two, perhaps,’ he said, pointing at Johnny and Penelope. ‘But not for us civilians. We’d be left waiting at the gate with our lives at risk while you cut through red tape with the generals.’

‘Who are you calling “civilian”, son?!’ barked Mr Dangerfield, looking left and right out the window and still holding a gun pose with his fingers.

‘Good point,’ Johnny grunted.

Penelope scanned the army base through a pair of binoculars. ‘I suggest we use the back door approach to get safely inside the base and then we can enlist their help. Follow my directions,’ she said.

‘Sounds good to me,’ replied Johnny.

‘Drive over that bridge and head towards the unpatrolled paddock to the left of the firing range.’

‘Affirmative.’ Johnny tracked behind a long line of trees before pulling up a few metres shy of the bridge.

Penelope scanned the horizon again. ‘The coast is still clear – proceed.’

Johnny traversed over the bridge and headed towards the unpatrolled paddock. A few moments later he braked in front of the field. It was lined with waist-high barbed-wire fencing littered with large red warning signs.

‘Danger – Entry Forbidden. Unauthorised Access Could Lead to Death or Injury,’ Tim read. ‘That’s not comforting.’

Johnny crossed his fingers. ‘The Yuri-nator’s promising us certain death – so I’m happy to try for injury only.’

The teen spy pushed a button and a giant pair of boltcutters emerged from inside the engine cowling. ‘It’s time to cut and run.’

SNIP SNIP!

The metal blades ripped through the barbed-wire fence, allowing the Lego vehicle to slip through the narrow hole.

‘So far so good.’ Johnny gripped the plastic steering wheel.

Then – KERSLAMM! – razor-sharp spikes sprang up from under the ground, slashing all four tyres.

‘Ouch, road spikes,’ Tim cried as the car lurched and spluttered forward.

‘It’s okay, we can still keep going on the plastic hubs,’ Johnny breathed.

KABOOM!

A powerful explosion lifted the Lego vehicle off the ground and sent its occupants tumbling out.

Johnny landed on a heap in the grass next to one of the detached doors. ‘Owww . . . not good,’ he moaned, nursing a bruised elbow. ‘I think we definitely selected the “injury” option.’ He saw his father knocked out cold a few metres from him. ‘Dad, are you okay?’

Tim lifted himself up off the ground and began trembling with fear. ‘Johnny, I think death is our next menu option.’

‘What?’

Tim pointed at a small yellow flag with a skull and crossbones on it pegged next to him in the ground. ‘We’re in the middle of a minefield.’

‘Bogus,’ Johnny whimpered. ‘Extremely bogus.’

Penelope rose calmly to her feet and brushed the sand and dirt off her forearms. ‘Nobody panic. The best thing you can do if you’re trapped in a minefield is to pick a straight line and sprint that course as fast as you can – hopefully you’ll outrun any potential explosions behind you. Watch me, I’ve done this before.’

‘Are you crazy?’ Tim whispered.

Johnny gulped as Penelope took off and ran for the corner of the field at lightning-fast speed. Within seconds she was standing confidently on a small gravel path on the edges of the minefield with her hands on her hips, awaiting her colleagues to join her.

‘Okay – who’s next?’ she cried.

‘Next?’ Tim gagged. ‘Are you serious? That was insane. That’s not how you escape a minefield – not unless you’re Superwoman or have x-ray vision!’

KAZOONNG!

A flash of light erupted in the distance and a laser bulk came whistling in, blowing out a hole in the barbed-wire fence behind them.

‘The Yuri-nator,’ Johnny cried.

‘Whoaaaaaa . . .’ Johnny’s dad stirred. He looked wide-eyed around the military base and stood up and began clapping his hands rhythmically. ‘One, two, three, four, we don’t want your stinking war. Five, six, seven, eight, we don’t want your bombs and hate . . .’

‘Hippy-dad again?’ Tim cried.

KAZONGG!

Another explosion sent dust showering down over them.

Jonathan’s father began hopping up and down on the spot. ‘Everybody, join me and do the dance of disarmament. Let’s show these warmongers that groovy love always overcomes hatred.’

Johnny waved his hands frantically above his head. ‘STOP! STOP! We’re in the middle of a minefield – if we do a disarmament dance, we’ll all end up dis-armed and dis-legged!’

KA-BOOM! Another powerful explosion triggered a mine just metres from them.

Johnny stared at his friend. ‘Tim, have you still got your pocket radio on you?’

Tim pulled out his small AM/FM radio. ‘Yep. All ready for tonight’s soccer commentary.’

‘Gimme it.’

Tim carefully tossed Johnny his radio. Johnny pulled a calculator out of his back pocket and pressed the two objects back-to-back and wrapped duct tape around them. He switched the radio dial to the highest AM band he could find.

‘What are you doing?’ Tim asked.

‘Making a metal detector. The calculator’s circuit board emits a radio wave, and any nearby metal object will bounce those waves back into the radio’s speakers and cause static sounds. It’s how I found my mum’s lost car keys at the beach last year.’

‘Cool,’ Tim beamed. ‘But are all mines made of metal?’

Johnny took in a deep breath. ‘Tim, you’ll be the first to know if they’re not.’