Justin Richards - Sorted!

Miss Jones is responsible for teaching Class 3D the ordinary everyday subjects like Maths and English and History. She’s newly qualified, quiet and unassuming. Like Miss Jones, all the subject teachers at Thunder Raker Manor are fully qualified and at the very peak of their profession. Many of them are former agents and spies, so together they bring a wealth of experience to the school.

Mr. Cryption teaches Codes. He’s tall and thin and no one understands anything he says.

Miss Fortune teaches Assassination. Her classes always seem to be a few pupils short—they get sent on errands or asked to help fetch something, and never come back…Note, though, that Class 3D is too young for Assassination, which is only taught in the Sixth Form.

Sir Westerly Compass is in charge of Tracking Skills. He’s always late for class, and his lessons are often moved at short notice.

The Major—that’s all he’s ever called—is in charge of Sabotage Training. He has an enormous moustache and he’s rather accident prone. Everything he touches breaks—even the plate he gets his school dinner on…

Mrs Nuffink teaches Surveillance. Don’t mess around in her class—she’s got eyes in the back of her head. No, really.

Camouflage is supposed to be taught by Mr. Trick. But no one can find him.

The Chaplain is Reverend “Bongo” Smithers, a former fighter pilot more interested in war stories than Bible stories. He also teaches PE. Ruthlessly.

So whatever your parental requirements or security clearance, you can rest assured that Thunder Raker Manor will provide a first-class education for your child in every respect. We can’t tell you how much the children enjoy being here. No, really—we can’t. It’s an official secret.

Every day, Alfie’s dad went to school. But he wasn’t a teacher and he didn’t go there to learn Maths or study History.

No, Alfie’s dad went to Thunder Raker Manor School to deliver the post. That was how Alfie got to go to the school in the first place—his dad saw it when he was doing his rounds and thought it would be just the place for his son.

It took Alfie a few days to settle in, but soon he thought it was just the place too. Which was strange because it wasn’t like any other school Alfie had ever been to or heard about: everyone who went to Thunder Raker had parents or close relatives who worked in the Secret Service or as Special Agents.

Alfie was in Class 3D, taught by Miss Jones. There were three other boys and three girls in the small class. Jack’s dad was head of the Secret Service and Harry’s dad had infiltrated the dastardly SPUD organisation. Sam’s mum worked for Hush Hush and had built him his special gadget-laden wheelchair.

Chloe’s mum was an ace spy and Alice’s dad was a double agent. Or maybe a triple agent—it got a bit confusing. Beth’s dad was in charge of the Government’s Inventing Taskforce—known as GIT for short.

And Alfie’s dad was the local postman. The other children thought this was fantastic. How cool that Alfie’s dad had such a great secret identity! But Alfie knew the real secret: his dad was the local postman. It was all a mix-up and Alfie shouldn’t really be at Thunder Raker Manor at all. But at a school where you were taught how to keep secrets (and how to read codes, keep watch, disguise yourself as a garden shed and sabotage dangerous enemy wheelbarrows) he thought he could get away with it…

Usually Alfie was excited about going to school. But this week his class had their SATS exams. Alfie wasn’t worried about the exams…well, not really. But he knew he needed to do his best. The Special Agent Training Standards were really important—if you didn’t pass, you couldn’t go on to take your GCSEs. And where would you be without the General Classification in Surveillance and Endurance? Well, you’d be in the same place probably. But you wouldn’t be a spy.

Alfie was determined to pass first time. He’d revised all the longest rivers in the world, the date of the Spanish Armada and how to blow up secret weapons factories. He just hoped he could remember it all.

By the time Alfie walked to school, it was getting light. As he walked past old Mrs Prendergast’s cottage, he saw her standing outside holding a tray of teacups. Mrs Prendergast liked making cups of tea. She took pity on the SPUD agents whose job it was to keep watch on the school, and provided them with tea and biscuits when they took their breaks.

“I saw your dad come by with the post earlier,” Mrs Prendergast told Alfie, offering him a rich tea finger. “He must get up very early. I didn’t even have the kettle on.”

Alfie’s reply was drowned out by the sound of an armoured tank as it roared past. He recognised it at once—it belonged to one of the Sixth Formers.

Mrs Prendergast was not amused. “Nasty, smelly thing,” she complained. “It’ll make the tea taste of oil.”

Unlike the tank, the huge stretch limo that purred past Alfie made almost no noise. He only noticed it when it beeped its horn for him to move out of the way. Alfie could see Chloe’s face pressed up against the darkened glass as it went past. Alfie waved and smiled, but Chloe just glared. She didn’t seem to like Alfie much. The limo was bright pink.

Next to pass Alfie was a girl on a scooter. It was a push-along scooter with little tiny wheels. But welded on the back was a large jet motor and the girl was wearing a yellow crash helmet.

“Hi, Beth!” shouted Alfie above the whoosh of the engine as it sped erratically towards him. He moved to the left, but the scooter moved the same way—heading straight for him. Alfie jumped to the right—just as the scooter lunged that way too.

“No brakes!” Beth shouted as she screamed past. She narrowly missed Alfie and zigzagged her way towards the school gates up ahead.

The uniformed figure of Sergeant Custer, the school’s security guard, leaped out from his hut beside the armoured metal gates. He dragged them open just in time for Beth’s scooter to hurtle through.

As Alfie approached, Sergeant Custer saluted and smiled. “Morning, Alfie.”

“Good morning, Sergeant Custer.”

Alfie was just walking past the gates when the noise started. It was so sudden and so loud it made him jump. It was louder than the tank and Beth’s scooter put together.

“Woof! Woof!”

Alfie backed away. An enormous guard dog

was straining at a lead tied to Sergeant Custer’s hut, struggling to break free. It snarled and barked and snapped its huge jaws.

“Oy—quieten down!” Custer shouted at the dog. “It’s just because he likes you,” he assured Alfie.

“Right…” Alfie wasn’t convinced. He watched while Sergeant Custer calmed the dog down and managed to wrestle it back inside the hut.

“Sorry about that,” panted Custer as he staggered out again, “but he’s new to the team. Got to be a bit careful. He’s a savage beast, trained to take out the enemy like that: wham !” Custer demonstrated with a punch in the air. “Or rather, snap ! Have your arm off as soon as look at you if he thinks you’re on the wrong side.”

“The wrong side of what?” asked Alfie.

Custer shrugged. “Don’t know. Didn’t ask. These gates maybe? But you’re inside now, so you should be safe from the fierce, highly trained killer guard dog.”