The Magical Fruit (Doctor Proctor, Book 6)
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Doctor Proctor, Nilly, and Lisa take a sporty approach to saving the day in this fart-tastically funny adventure from New York Times bestselling author Jo Nesbø.
When a Russian billionaire robs the Norwegian Gold Reserve and melts the last remaining gold bar into the Premier Soccer League trophy, it’s up to Doctor Proctor, Nilly, and Lisa to recapture the precious prize. But after a failed break-in attempt at the billionaire’s subterranean gold-melting lab, and with the Norwegian Gold Reserve Inspection in just three days, the only way to retrieve the trophy is to win it back.
Hoping to prevent national panic and uproar, Nilly and Lisa join the Rotten Ham soccer team to try and lead the hopeless underdogs to victory before time runs out. And with the use of Fartonaut Powder, along with a handful of Doctor Proctor’s other wacky inventions, they just might have a chance!
with a thump into the machine’s baggage compartment. “Calm down, Betty,” Alfie says. “It looks good, this one. Pure, solid gold all the way through. We’d better be getting home, boys.” “Shh!” Charlie exclaims. “Did you guys hear that sound?” “What sound?” “That hissing sound,” Charlie says. “There’s no hissing in the sewers, Charlie,” Alfie groans. “Rats squeaking and frogs croaking, maybe, but you’ve got to head farther into the jungle to hear hissing.” “Look!” Charlie says urgently.
exclaimed. At a counter, there were wax museum souvenirs and celebrity masks for sale. “Well, hurry up, then,” Doctor Proctor said. Nilly pushed his way over to the counter. “Excuse me, my lovely lady,” he said to the saleslady, who was standing with her back to him, filing her nails. She turned and looked around at the air over Nilly’s head, surprised not to see anyone. “Down here, O Eiffel Tower of a woman,” Nilly said, waving from down below. She noticed him and lit up with a smile. “One
anyone is trying to dig their way into the vault from below.” “Yup,” Lisa said, pointing the binoculars up toward the sky. “And they have floodlights lighting up the airspace over the roof in case anyone tries to break in from above.” “In other words,” Doctor Proctor said tiredly, pointing back at the floor plan diagrams to illustrate to Nilly just how impossible it was, “even if we were to make it through all three locked, steel-reinforced doors, we still have to get through a room full of
nothing. Was he? Lisa studied her friend thoughtfully as he arrogantly stuffed another foot or so of Jell-O into his mouth. “But you’re totally sure that—” she began. She didn’t get any response, because just then they heard a voice yelling and the distant hum of an engine. Everyone looked around, unable to place where the sounds were coming from. Until someone happened to look up. And there, high above the top of the pear tree, they saw a triangular shape approaching. “Look at me! I’m
with suspenders, and white T-shirts. The biggest one also had a bowler hat on his head. But he’s taken it off right now to wipe the sweat away, allowing us to see that all three of their heads are shaved, and each one has a letter tattooed on his forehead, above his thick unibrow. A small cracking sound is heard, and suddenly the drill starts squealing like a spoiled brat. “We’re in,” the man with a B tattooed on his forehead snarls, flipping a switch. The drilling noise slowly fades away. The