A. J. Butcher

Andrew James Butcher is the English author of the futuristic teen spy series, Spy High. A.J., who taught English at both Poole Grammar School and Parkstone Grammar School, in Poole, Dorset, and currently teaches at Talbot Heath School in Bournemouth, Dorset took a sabbatical from his teaching career to write Spy High Series Two. He says he has been influenced by Charles Dickens and George Orwell, but that Stan Lee, creator of many of Marvel Comics' super-heroes, is his biggest inspirational figure.

The series is published by Atom Books in the UK and Commonwealth and Little, Brown and Co. in the US. The first series has also been translated into many other languages.

py High: Series 1

The first series he had written consists of six books, similar to the second series. Each book is about the Bond Team's struggle through their education. They must defeat criminals, viruses, and possibly most importantly of all, they must accept the death of a teamate and trust the replacement. Below are exerpts from the books.

"The Frankenstein Factory" (Known as "Misson One" in the USA)

The Clincher

Somewhere in the not too distant future, there is a school that is much more than it seems ...

To the outside world, it is known as The Deveraux College for gifted teenagers. But to Lori, Jake and the other new first years, it goes by a very different name: Spy High.

Those who pass its rigorous training program will become the world's best hope in the fight against evil megalomaniacs and crazed techno-terrorists. Those who fail will have their memories erased.

Let the lessons begin ...

The Exerpt

Ben and Lori stood on the cliff top. Hundreds of metres below them they could hear the restless crash of the midnight surf against the rocks, but in the absence of the moon they could see nothing. Only the silver of their suits gleamed dully and seemed to shiver as they prepared themselves. To anyone who didn't know them, they could have been brother and sister, both tall, athletic, her blonde hair long, his cropped short. But they weren't brother and sister. Far from it.

'How much time have we got?'

'About an hour.'

'Plenty, if the others manage to keep up.' Ben turned his back to the cliff's edge and the sheer drop beyond. 'Follow my lead.'

He threw himself off the cliff.

Lori sighed. That was so Ben. He always had to go first, and without even a kiss. She'd remember that the next time he came looking for a little bit of lip action. But first things first. Repressing an urge to whoop her excitement while she did it, Lori too flung herself into thin air.

For the flimsiest of moments, as she gained the highest point in her leap, Lori seemed to hover far above the swirling ocean, as though gravity itself was pausing, considering whether to exert its weight on her or not. She thought of the coyote character in the old Road Runner cartoons - how many times he was left suspended and gulping in mid-air before plummeting to the bottom of a canyon. Still, as gravity decided not to make an exception for Lori Angel, and she started her plunging acceleration towards certain death, she had one rather important advantage over the coyote.

Lori swung on the rope clipped tightly to her belt, arced towards the black slab of the cliff, and relaxed her muscles as she'd been taught. The impact barely winded her. Her feet and fingers fixed themselves to the rock. No problem. If only the coyote had trained at Spy High, his whole career might have been very different.

A light winked at her from further down the cliffside like a boy giving her the eye. That would be Ben. No doubt he'd already found the entrance to the tunnel and claimed it for the greater glory of himself. Lori abseiled towards him.

'Took your time,' Ben commented. He'd already unclipped his line and was crouched in the narrow tunnel like a sprinter eager for the gun.

'I was admiring the view.'

'Yeah, well point your baby blues this way.' Ben jabbed his finger towards deep, circular darkness. 'A hundred metres to Stromfeld's complex. Let's put them behind us.'

'So keen to save the world,' Lori observed, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

'That's right,' muttered Ben, 'and if we reach the core before Daly, so much the better.'

'Talk about the short straw,' grumbled Jennifer Chen as she scrambled deeper beneath the earth, the roughly hewn tunnel showing no sign of coming to an end. 'Ben and Lori get to abseil, Cally and Eddie get the sea approach, and what do we get? The chance to crawl on our bellies all the way to the complex.' She paused briefly to sweep the hair from her eyes. 'How come we always get the short straw?'

Jake Daly, keeping close behind Jennifer, said nothing, though the expression beneath his tangled mop of black hair suggested that he had a good idea. He forced Stanton's smug face from his mind. Concentrate on the mission, he reminded himself. Only the mission matters.

'I just hope some of Stromfeld's goons get in my way,' Jennifer warned darkly. 'I've got a lot of tension I need to work off.'

Jake frowned. 'Forget it. We need to access the core as quickly and quietly as possible. We don't want any diversions.'

'Says you. Me, I say what's a mission without the chance to break some faces? Hey, Jake ...' Jennifer stopped, rapped her fist on the surface in front of her. The sound rang metallically. 'We're in.'

Jake allowed himself a grim kind of grin, nothing too elaborate or emotional. They'd reached the fringe of Stromfeld's headquarters, as the steel plating of the tunnel now testified, but there was a long way to go yet.

They slithered across the polished metal plates. The light improved as they neared the main body of the complex, allowing Jake a rather explicit view of his partner's rear as she wriggled her way forward. Jake was relieved that Eddie was not in his position at this particular moment.

Jennifer paused again - this time because she couldn't go any further. A wire grille blocked the intruders' path. She coiled back on herself and hissed to Jake: 'Where's this supposed to lead again?'

'An empty storeroom,' he supplied, 'according to the blueprints.'

'Then send the blueprints back,' Jennifer whispered. 'And make that a very occupied storeroom.' She indicated with her thumb.

Jake peered through the grille. A guard, uniformed and helmeted in black and, more worryingly, equipped with a large and probably well-serviced laser rifle, was settling himself down on a packing case. They hadn't planned for this.

One problem at a time, Jake reminded himself. Take nothing for granted.

'What's he doing?' Jennifer mouthed.

By way of answer, the guard eased off his helmet and felt in his pocket, drawing out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

'Unscheduled work break,' chuckled Jake. 'Naughty boy. Well, we've only got to wait, sit quietly and-'

'You can forget that,' scoffed Jennifer. 'I'm out of here.'

'Wait!'

Jennifer didn't. Her feet smashed into the grille, sent it spinning across the storeroom and slamming into the far wall. The guard choked on the first drag of his cigarette, struggled to stand, groped for his gun. He wasn't quick enough. Jennifer dropped lithely from the vent, smiled at the gape of astonishment on the man's face, then lashed out with her right leg, pivoting on her hip. The kick struck the guard squarely on the side of the head. With a faint groan, he clattered to the floor. He didn't get up.

'Somebody should have told you,' Jennifer tutted. 'Smoking's bad for your health.'

They dragged the dinghy up onto the shingle and over to where the angle of a lurching rock would hide it, then crouched in the shadow of the same rock to take stock.

Eddie Nelligan didn't look good, his naturally reddish complexion tinged with green. 'Water,' he moaned, 'should be strictly reserved for washing with. That's not an ocean, it's nature's way of making you throw up. Why can't we have missions to nice, sunny, tropical islands in the middle of nice, calm, flat seas? What's the fascination with wonky tides and the middle of the night?'

'Eddie,' prompted Cally Cross, 'do the words Let's, Keep and Moving mean anything to you?'

'I mean, it's not asking for much, is it? Look at the Bond movies. An island like Dr No's wouldn't be too bad, would it? Great beach, bit of a waterfall, a few palm trees. There's got to be an island like that owned by a full-time nutter somewhere, hasn't there? Why can't they send us there? And if they could throw in Halle Berry as well, that'd sure increase my motivation.'

"Fraid you'll just have to put up with me,' said Cally. 'And as for motivation, if you don't get moving now I'm going to be motivating you by squeezing somewhere that hurts.'

'Cally,' drooled Eddie, 'do you know how long I've waited for you to say that?' But he got to his feet and followed his partner just the same.

They moved as smoothly and silently as they could across the craggy scrap of shore that spilled out of the cave. Cally glanced up at the cliff, wondering how the other pairs were faring in their joint mission. Returning her gaze to the mouth of the cave, much closer now, she wondered whether they too were finding further progress barred by Stromfeld's men. There were two of them, armed and looking as alert as could reasonably be expected of somebody on guard duty at midnight.

'We could try and creep past,' she suggested to Eddie.

'I don't do creeping,' he returned. 'It makes me feel like I've got something to hide. Besides, I bet these guys have been working really hard and could do with a bit of a rest. And I think we can help them with that.'

'Sleepshot?'

'Sleepshot. You want the one on the right or the left?'

In unison, Eddie and Cally raised their right arms. Starlight glittered on shiny metal wrist-bands. They lowered their hands and pointed their wrists at their respective targets. With a hardly audible 'phut', tiny twin projectiles spat into the darkness.

The countless hours of practice paid off. The sleepshot shells buried themselves in the guards' bare cheeks. They drilled into the skin, immediately releasing a powerful anaesthetic into the bloodstream. Neither man would wake before dawn.

'Nighty night,' crooned Eddie. 'Sleep tight. Don't let the bed-bugs bite.'

'Hey, Eddie,' said Cally exasperatedly, 'before you start breaking into bedtime stories, we've got work to do, remember?'

Eddie eyed the forbidding-looking cave and the cliff piled high above it. 'How could I forget?' he said. 'I hope Stromfeld's got an elevator.'

'These corridors all look the same,' groaned Lori in frustration. 'Do you reckon Stromfeld bought them all in one big job lot at a corridor sale somewhere?'

'Don't you pay attention in Psychology, Lori?' Ben grunted. 'It's the mentality of the megalomaniac. Studies have shown that would-be rulers of the world are almost always deeply obsessive and can't tolerate change. That's why they want to impose their will on the rest of us. Keeping every area of his complex identical is Stromfeld's way of proving he's in control and can dictate even the appearance of the environment.'

'That's another A-grade essay in the making there, Ben,' Lori said. 'But even if you're right, that's not much good to us. Unless Stromfeld's put up sign-posts, we still haven't got a clue which way to go to the core.'

Lori had a point. She and Ben had penetrated Stromfeld's underground headquarters easily enough, taking the crude tunnel from the cliffside to a little-used section of the complex, but since then they'd spent a good twenty minutes wandering an apparently inexhaustible supply of featureless metal corridors. And when you were working to a deadline - a serious deadline - that was not good. At least they hadn't encountered any of Stromfeld's goons yet, though Lori was beginning to hope that they might run into one soon, if only to ask directions.

Ben was frowning - he tended to take even the slightest note of criticism personally. OK, so they hadn't quite made the progress he'd expected, but he'd put money on the others being further behind. They had to be. 'I thought I'd memorised the blueprints, but I guess there's no harm in activating the belt-brain.'

He pressed a stud in his belt. A beam of light stabbed from the buckle and resolved itself into a holographic image of the floorplan of the complex. Three pairs of red dots flashed at various points on the plan.

'There's us,' Lori pointed, as delighted as if she was meeting an old friend.

'Yeah, and there's the core,' observed Ben, 'the nerve centre of Stromfeld's entire operation, and there are Jen and Daly ...'

Closer to the core than we are.' Lori thoughtfully completed Ben's sentence for him.

Not looking happy, Ben pressed his belt-stud a second time. Now a flashing red line appeared on the plan, starting from the two circles that represented himself and Lori and leading, like somebody tackling a maze in a puzzle book, to the core. Their path was all mapped out for them. All they had to do was follow it.

'Ben?' Lori was already starting to move off. 'Weren't we in a rush?'

Apparently not. Ben was motionless, scrutinising the hologram, paying particular attention to the distance between Jake and Jennifer and the core on the one hand, and the distance between he and Lori and the core on the other. Assuming he and Lori obeyed the recommended route, Ben estimated there was no chance they could get to their destination before the other two. And that was not an acceptable outcome. If, however, he and Lori took a right up ahead, instead of a left, then they'd save time for sure - save time and get the jump on Daly ...

He strode forward purposefully.

'Er ... Ben?' Lori tried again. 'The belt says left.'

'Yeah, well I say right.'

'Excuse me? These routes have been worked out by the logistics guys at Spy High-'

'Who aren't any of them here in Stromfeld's lair with us,' Ben pointed out. 'They don't know. They can't tell us what to do now.' To emphasise the fact, he pressed his belt-stud once more. The hologram collapsed meekly in on itself, leaking back into his buckle like water down a drain. 'We're on our own and we'll save time if we go the way I say. We'll complete the mission more quickly.'

'I don't know, Ben. They ran all kinds of tests to find the clearest routes ...' Lori's brow creased in doubt.

'It's called initiative, Lori,' Ben urged. 'Come on. Trust me, OK? I need you.'

And she was persuaded. When Ben gazed at her like that, earnestly, piercingly, like he could see right into her heart, she couldn't resist him at all. When he looked at her that way she'd do anything. Even if he told her to go knock on Stromfeld's door and give herself up she would. In that context, taking a right instead of a left didn't seem such a big deal after all.

Especially as the corridor into which the two of them turned bore some kind of identification: C-Alpha. Apparently Ben was right.

'C for core?' she suggested, pleased by the renewed expression of eager determination on his face.

'C for closer, that's for sure.' Ben paused by a door, whipped a deactivator from his belt and placed it over the lock mechanism. 'We're almost there.'

But as the deactivator did its work, Lori found those annoying doubts returning. Why was this area shaded on the plans?

The door slid open.

Ben grinned and offered Lori his hand.

They stepped through.

And at least a dozen laser rifles pointed directly at them.

'Welcome,' said a voice. 'How nice of you to drop by.'

It wasn't often that intruders were so accommodating as to walk right into a guard-room.

A series of dull thuds echoed down the corridor. Jake tensed. 'You get the feeling something bad's just happened?' He sniffed the artificially regulated air as if the stench of something rotten had just wafted through. He grimaced. 'I don't like it.'

Jennifer sensed nothing amiss, but even though she'd only known Jake a short time, less than a term, she was already beginning to trust his instincts. There was something preternatural about him, something almost animal. She tensed her limbs for action, glanced behind. The corridor gaped innocently empty in both directions. 'You think that guard might have recovered?'

'The way you hit him I doubt he'll ever recover. And we trussed him up pretty good.' Jake's expression was dark, intense. 'But something's wrong. I'm switching to radar vision.'

'Agreed.'

The partners yanked what seemed like thin strips of plastic film from their belts and wrapped them around their heads to cover their eyes. As the two ends connected at the back there was an activating click. The film joined and stiffened and they had instantly expanded fields of vision. By shifting the focus of their eyes only slightly, Jake and Jen could now visualise any object, animate or inanimate, that was behind them, to either side of them, and even through adjacent walls. It was difficult to creep up on a student of Spy High.

'How is it for you, Jen?' Jake checked.

'360 degrees perfect. I'm seeing the circle.'

They continued their passage through the endless corridors, moving like shadows. Everything was looking good, but Jake still couldn't shake the premonition that they were on the brink of disaster. Maybe the two figures ahead of them, certainly guards, out of human sight around a corner but clearly picked out by radar vision, had something to do with it. Jennifer squeezed his shoulder to indicate that she'd detected them too.

'Sleepshot,' said Jake.

Jennifer shook her head. 'Sorry. A girl needs her exercise.'

She was running to the corner before Jake could stop her. He cursed softly under his breath. He had no doubt that Jennifer could deal with a pair of Stromfeld's men - in fact, he felt almost sorry for them, but physical combat simply wasn't necessary at this stage. He heard the dull thud of boot against chin, the meaty chop of hand on neck. It was just like in the storeroom. Jennifer took too many risks. One of these days it was going to cost her.

But maybe not today. Jake rounded the corner to find her posing over the bodies of the two poleaxed lackeys like a hunter with her spoils. 'Jake,' she grinned, 'you missed all the fun.'

Jake tore off his radar visor. 'This is not supposed to be fun.' His voice was cold. Jennifer bridled at the sound of it. 'This is supposed to be a mission. We always use sleepshot where we can. Sleepshot's effects are guaranteed.'

'What's all this we?' Jennifer retorted. 'You don't own me, Jake. You can't tell me what to do. And let me tell you something -' she clenched her fists theatrically - 'these are guaranteed too.'

Behind her, a groan.

'Jen!'

One of the guards, not quite unconscious, was reaching inside his tunic. Jennifer stamped down on his neck, a mere fraction of a second too late.

All around them, stridently, deafeningly, like a net of sound thrown over them, came the blare of an alarm.

Eddie and Cally heard it as they arrowed their way in an elevator from the lowest levels of the complex to its very heart. Eddie cocked his ear: 'Interesting choice of muzak.'

'Means trouble, Eddie,' Cally said unnecessarily. 'We've got to be ready for anything.'

'Don't worry.' Eddie refused to appear concerned. 'I carry protection with me at all times.' The elevator's rise ended almost imperceptibly. Its doors slid open silently. 'Looks like this is our floor.'

They edged out into a trademark Stromfeld corridor cautiously, which was probably just as well. They were greeted by a barrage of laser blasts, sparking off the wall beside them, so close Cally felt her hair singe.

'Pleased to meet you, too,' Eddie muttered.

A handful of goons charged towards them, firing wildly. If they'd only stop to take proper aim, they'd be taking out more than just scenery, Eddie mused, but that was probably why these guys had never been promoted beyond the level of hired help. He and Cally didn't make the same mistake. Dropping to one knee in perfect unison they brought sleepshot into play, firing from their wrist-bands with unerring accuracy. Two attackers fell, four, six. But whether the others might then have retreated or not never became an issue: the scorch of a laser blast against Cally's boot alerted her to the sudden appearance of reinforcements from the other end of the corridor.

'Eddie!' she cried, firing off a sleepshot shell behind her. 'Too hot for comfort!'

'Then let's cool off,' Eddie agreed, darting back into the elevator.Cally leapt after him as the doors slid shut. Laser blasts ricocheted off steel, but for the moment the two were safe. 'Where now?' Cally gasped.

Eddie jabbed a button and the lift swept upward.

'There are just so many choices. Tenth floor, weapons of mass destruction. Twelfth floor, interrogation and brainwashing - definitely give that one a miss. Fifteenth floor, master plans for world domination. It's a great day out for all the family at Stromfeld and Co.' He punched the emergency button and the elevator obeyed, lurching to a stop between floors.

'And that helps us how exactly?' Cally demanded. 'Do we just make polite conversation 'til they override the system?'

Eddie appraised his companion thoughtfully. 'Surely we can make the time pass more pleasureably than that?' He winked. 'What about hopping up on my back for a start?'

'Eddie, I knew you were twisted, but-'

'Cally, please!' Eddie was the shocked innocent. 'How else are we going to bust the hatch unless you climb on my back to reach it?'

'Huh?'

'If we climb up the cables, Stromfeld's boys won't have a clue where we are. It works in the movies every time.'

'Is that right?' Cally said sceptically. 'Well let's hope Stromfeld's on the same script.'

They worked quickly. Cally used the laser cutter from her belt to blow out the hatch, then hauled herself out to balance on the roof. She gazed dubiously up at the yawning elevator shaft and the thick cable that she was expected to scale. Not for the first time, it occurred to her that life had been a lot easier on the street.

'What are you worried about?' Eddie jibed gently as she pulled him through, 'Just imagine you're back in the gym at Spy High.'

Cally forced herself to focus. 'The only thing I'm worried about,' she retorted, 'is you coming up behind me.'

They climbed steadily, wrapping their feet around the cable and pulling themselves up hand over hand. It was as well that they had no fear of heights, as the elevator was soon lost in the shaft's general gloom.

They passed the dim outlines of several doors before Cally paused and yelled down, 'What about getting off here?'

'I can't think of any reason why not,' Eddie called back.

The doors slid smoothly open and a dozen guards trained laser rifles on them.

'Or maybe I can.' Eddie smiled sheepishly at the guards. 'Elevator engineers. We hear you've been having a few problems ...'

"The Chaos Connection" (Known as "Chaos Rising" in the USA)

The Clincher

Bond Team are back, and preparing to battle for the prestigious Sherlock Shield. Victory means a place in the Deveraux College hall of fame. But to win, they'll have to beat their arch-rivals – and Solo Team are prepared to do anything to stop that happening. Bond Team will have to watch their backs. And maybe everywhere else too, because in the world outside of Spy High, a terrorist organisation is about to send its first explosive announcement:

"Chaos is coming!"

"The Serpent Scenario" (Known as "The Serpent Scenario" in the USA)

The Clincher

There's a deadly new drug on the streets of America. Drac is instantly and horribly addictive and turns its users into zombies with a desperate craving for blood. Every agent from Spy High has been assigned to discover its source - even the trainees.

But one member of the Bond Team won't be joining the hunt. Jennifer Chen is following a dangerous trail of her own. She's got some private business with a street gang called the Serpents. And it's a business of revenge.

"The Paranoia Plot" (Known as "The Paranoia Plot" in the USA)

The Clincher

Rebecca Dee has spiked green hair, a lot of body piercings and even more attitude. But that's not what's bothering Jake, Cally and the others. They're more worried about the 'accidents' that seem to happen whenever their new team mate is around. And about where she keeps sneaking off to late at night.

Because with strange and dangerous events unfolding int eh world outside Spy High, her unusual behaviour is looking like more than just coincidence. In fact, Bond Team are beginning to suspect that Rebecca Dee is a double-agent ...

"The Soul Stealer" (Known as "Blood Relations" in the USA)

The Clincher

Things are not looking good for Benjamin T.Stanton Junior. His grades are dropping, his relationship with Lori has hit a major low, and his leadership of Bond Team is in serious doubt. If Ben can't pull things around, he's in real danger of flunking his Spy High exams. And that means one thing - Mind-wipe. Ben is desperate for the chance to prove himself in a mission situation, but then the Bond Team become embroiled in the investigation of a sinister cult and he suddenly wishes he could be anywhere but Spy High. Because this time the suspects aren't just random terrorists, or crazed megalomaniacs - they include members of Benjamin T. Stanton Junior's own family.

"The Annihilation Agenda" (Never Printed for/in the USA)

The Clincher

Bond Team have a LOT on their minds. Not only are they about to get their exam results, they're also caught up in Spy High's investigations into terrorism at the Solartech power plant. And while Lori, Jake and the others may be freaking out about the exams, their discoveries at Solartech are way more worrying. Because Bond Team have uncovered a plot that's going to make those exam results seem pretty irrelevant. In fact, it's going to make everything pretty irrelevant. Because humanity is about to be wiped out, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it.

The Characters

The Characters are as follows: Edward Nelligan (Eddie, the Spy with a Smile), Calista Cross (Cally, Cal), Benjamin T. Stanton Junior (Ben), Lori Angel (Lori, Lo), Jake Daly (Jake), Jennifer Chen (Jennifer, Jen, Jenny), and Rebecca Deveraux (Bex). One character dies, but you'll have to read the books to find out who.

The Deveraux Academy

Below is an exerpt from the book that would describe the Deveraux Academy.

etting

Sixty years from now, north of Boston, there's a school that's more than it seems.People whisper the name of Deveraux Academy like a secret, and wonder what they've heard about. They know the school was founded by Jonathan Deveraux, one of the wealthiest men in the world and that he is rumored to live on the premises but hasn't been seen in the flesh for fifteen years. They know that the school is so exclusive, so select, that not even the sons of presidents or the daughters of rock stars can get in. They know that the school’s literature boasts of the ‘exceptionally talented,’ but exceptionally talented at what? Nothing more is revealed. Ultimately, all people really know about Deveraux Academy is where the school is located and what is looks like. But only from the outside.

You approach it through grounds the size of Rhode Island, mostly forest. If you’re alert, you might notice the branches of the trees stirring, moving, even on breezeless days – keeping an arboreal eye on your progress. Because instead of bark or sap, the branches of the trees at Deveraux contain circuitry and sensors, carefully monitoring the presence of each and every trespasser on the school’s property.

At last, the forest falls away, and you see the school itself ahead of you. It’s as if the centuries have fallen away, too. Deveraux Academy is a sprawling, gothic fortress that seems perfect for hidden rooms and dungeons and screams in secret corridors. The kind of place where you wouldn’t want the power to fail in the middle of the night and where you’d be inclined to wear a cross around your neck – and maybe a few cloves of garlic for good measure.

Of course, you could stop there, if you didn’t feel like going any farther, and watch Deveraux’s students playing on the fields. There’s always a football game going on. Always. And if you watch it long enough, you’ll realize that it’s the same plays repeated, over and over, like an endless rehearsal. And that realization might bother you, unless you already know that all you’re observing are holograms designed to project an illusion of normality.The true business of Deveraux Academy goes on inside.

Through the great oak doors that open automatically. Past the receptionist who, despite her age, could kill you in a dozen different ways with her bare and wrinkled hands. Past the phantom students forever on their way to classes that never start. Into one of the many book-lined studies, which, if you press the spine of a book that is not a book, proves to be not actually a study either, but an elevator. An elevator that takes you down, beneath the ground, behind the façade, to the place where Deveraux Academy in many ways ceases to be, to a school that has been Christened by its students with a different name.

Spy High.

There are uniforms here, but no blazers or ties or regulation length skirts. At Spy High, students wear gleaming silver shock suits, and if you want to know why they’re called that, try jumping into someone wearing on in a dark alley: You’re likely to find it an ‘electrifying’ experience. There are classes here, too, but few that would be featured at other educational institutions – unless spycraft, history of espionage, advanced computer hacking, enemy-disabling techniques, and the handling of weapons of mass destruction suddenly become requirements of the curriculum. There is a hologym for all kinds of physical combat training, a virtual-reality chamber equipped with the latest cybercradles, and study and recreational facilities of every description.

And then there is the Hall of Heroes. A hushed location, this is a place for reverence and reflection. The plaque on the wall spells out its purpose in glittering golden letters: ‘Dedicated to the graduates of Deveraux Academy. To those who risk their lives for the sake of tomorrow.” At the far end of the Hall, the Fallen are commemorated, those who have perished in the ceaseless battle between the forces of good and the agents of evil. Their holographic forms hover in beams of light, their names emblazoned below, as if they are sentinels standing still against the darkness of the world. if nothing else, they are a reminder to the students of Spy High that they haven’t been chosen to play games, but to be active participants in a deadly struggle that could cost them their very lives.

External links

Interviews

* [http://forums.spyit.co.uk/viewtopic.php?f=32&t=4871 SpyIt interviews A.J. Butcher]
* [http://www.bbc.co.uk/blast/writing/people/aj_butcher.shtml BBC Blast interview]

py High Websites

* [http://spyit.co.uk The Spy High Network]
* [http://www.thedeverauxcollege.co.uk Official Spy High Series One site]