Johnny parked the golf cart as far inside the sprawling island’s complex as he could without being noticed, and then the two spies took off on foot. Penelope’s energy levels slowly returned with each mouthful of sparkling water, and they found themselves moving faster and faster through the rabbit warren–like accommodation blocks.

‘How’s your ankle coping with jogging?’ Johnny asked.

‘Don’t worry about my ankle, just search every room in this quadrant for clues as to where the villains might be located,’ Penelope said, peeking through a window. ‘Knowing Dr Disastrous and how sloppily he runs his operations, there’s bound to be some giveaway that we should be able to spot easily.’

‘Like that,’ Johnny said, tapping his partner’s shoulder. He pointed to a large room next to them.

‘The Games Room?’ Penelope growled.

‘Free games!’ Johnny buzzed. ‘Remember, we never got to go there last time!’

‘Danger,’ his partner snapped. ‘We’re on a mission. That’s not a clue.’

‘There’s always time for free games.’

A door opened nearby and the two spies ducked for cover in the Games Room.

‘Games Room, my left foot,’ Johnny sneered. ‘More like a secret undercover Communications Centre. Look, I bet we have to hack into this classic Galaga game to find his server. Maybe a high score is the PIN number?’

‘Danger, get your head in the game – what is wrong with you?’

‘I want to get my head in the game,’ Johnny sighed. ‘That’s the whole point.’

Penelope pointed at a small computer hardwired into the wall. ‘I suppose that’s better than nothing,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll see if I can log in.’

‘And I’ll hack into Galaga.’

‘Danger!’

Penelope touched the computer. It made a loud clunking noise and a screen activated. ‘We need a six-digit password to access it,’ Penelope said quietly.

A moment later an old lady holding some dusty board games waddled into the Games Room. ‘Oh hello, are you looking for the password?’ she said, noticing Penelope standing in front of the computer.

‘Ah yes,’ Penelope said sheepishly.

‘1-2-3-4-5-6 . . .’ the old woman said with a sweet smile on her face. ‘That should do the trick.’

‘Really? Is it that easy? Will it give me access to the server?’ Penelope said, entering the password.

‘The server . . .? Oh no, dear. That will only give you access to Solitaire and Minesweeper.’

Penelope looked in dismay at the ‘Windows 98’ splash screen that had appeared.

‘But don’t worry, I’ll go and get the server for you right away, dearie.’ The old woman smiled again sweetly and waddled back out the door.

‘The henchpeople around here are so friendly,’ Johnny said. He turned back to his console. ‘By the way, I’ve reached level two clearance on Galaga!’

KNOCK KNOCK!

A middle-aged man wearing a white shirt and shorts and holding a tennis racket entered the room. ‘Someone looking for tennis lessons?’ he asked. ‘You need help working on your serve? I’m Stan the Server King.’

‘Ah, sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding,’ Penny said coyly. ‘When I said server, I actually meant –’

‘Service manager,’ the man interrupted. ‘Gotcha. I get this mix-up all the time – I’ll fetch Mrs Higglebottom right away. You just stay there and play on your inter-web machine.’

‘Ah, no . . . you really don’t have to,’ Penelope said, raising her index finger.

‘Wait a sec,’ Johnny breathed. ‘Mrs Higgle-bottom – remember that name? That’s Dr Disastrous’s mother.’

A few minutes later a large heavyset woman carrying a clipboard and cleaning equipment walked into the room. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the teen imposters.

‘Oh, Miss Poopy . . . and Joey . . . it’s so good to see you again! ’

‘Penny, actually.’

‘And it’s Johnny.’

‘Oh marvellous. Are you here to see Gerry? My word, I have never known him to have so many friends come around like this before. It truly is a miracle. I told him to start wearing deodorant, and stop picking at his pimple scabs, and hey presto, look what happens – he’s Mr Popular all of a sudden.’

‘Ah, yeah, we can’t wait to see Gerry,’ Johnny said, hiding a smile. ‘Do you happen to know where he is today?’

‘Of course I do . . . Come with me.’

The pug-faced woman smelling of pine-based disinfectant walked Johnny and Penelope to the end of the hallway where there was a small balcony overhanging a garden. She pointed at a large open-plan concrete complex in the distance.

‘There he is over there,’ she said, pointing proudly. ‘He’s filling up the pool with his number ones.’

‘Excuse me?’ Johnny asked.

‘Or it could be his number twos.’ Mrs Higglebottom laughed. ‘I can’t tell without my binoculars. They all look the same from here. Heh, heh. Any rate, you pop over and surprise him. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you.’

‘I’m sure he will be,’ Penelope replied.

Mrs Higglebottom pulled out two yellow coupons from her pocket. ‘Ooh, have these while you’re here,’ she cried, handing them to Johnny. ‘Two free rounds at our famous Happy World mini-golf course.’

‘Cool,’ Johnny replied. ‘I love mini-golf.’

‘Good-o, but just give me a few minutes headstart. Some poor unlucky tyke heaved up his tropical breakfast on the 12th hole this morning, and I have to head down there now and unblock it as quickly as I can.’

‘Right . . .’ Johnny said, holding the coupons, while Penelope turned green. ‘Well, if we see you there, I guess we’ll see you there . . .’

They waited for the old woman to trundle off, then surveyed the horizon again. ‘Either Mrs Higglebottom is running the best evil villain cover in history, or Dr Disastrous is running his operations from inside a completely ridiculous funny farm,’ Johnny cracked.

‘Definitely a funny farm,’ Penelope said. ‘With puke-covered putting greens and middle-aged men who are clueless about modern tennis fashions.’