by Andrew Cope
It was pouring with rain. Mr Big spotted the prison van.
‘That’s the one,’ he shouted over the din of the storm. ‘It should be open with the keys in.’
The three escapees sprinted across the car park and jumped in. Mr Big’s heart was pounding as he started the engine and headed towards the security barrier. The wipers were struggling to cope, even at double speed. He patted the revolver in his jacket pocket. If the barrier wouldn’t open then he may need to use force. It was nearly 1 a.m. and the man on the gate was half asleep. Mr Big pulled up at the barrier, lowered his window and waved his fake identity card. His body stiffened for a moment as a torch shone in his face. But the barrier rose and Mr Big saluted. He crunched the van into gear and accelerated out into the free world.
The three escapees waited until they were well away from the prison walls before they celebrated. The van trundled through the storm as Gus and Archie leaped around in the back, hugging, back-slapping and grinning from ear to ear.
‘No more prison food,’ sang Gus.
‘No more lights out at nine,’ trumpeted Archie.
‘And no more digging the tunnel of revenge,’ growled Mr Big, looking at the dirt under his fingernails.
After the celebrations died down Mr Big put on his serious voice.
‘OK, we’re out,’ he announced. ‘That’s the easy bit. Now the real work begins. We are about to pull off the biggest crime in history but what do we do first?’
The two thugs knew the plan inside out. Mr Big puffed his chest with pride as they chorused, ‘First, we get rid of the dog.’
5. Ready, Steady, Cook
Ben was the eldest of the three children. He and Lara had become the best of friends and they spent hours together playing outside. The pair often camped in the back garden or went for long bike rides. They would take a picnic of Lara’s favourite banana and salami sandwiches and spend lazy afternoons fishing by the river. Ben was handsome and always managed to be cool without really trying. His natural good humour meant he was popular at school, more so now that he had Lara.
Some of his school mates knew of Lara’s special status, but had promised to keep her secret. They loved having their very own Spy Dog in the neighbourhood and were delighted when she was allowed into school. Lara sometimes came in to demonstrate web design or to show the children how to do martial arts, but her favourite lesson was PE. Lara was especially good at football, hockey and gymnastics.
Lara liked to think of herself as unusual-looking, although her keen ears had picked up remarks on her ugliness from one or two passers-by. This never upset her because she knew that beauty was only skin deep.
I may be unusual on the outside, she decided, but I am very special on the inside.
She was a medium-sized dog, mostly white with black splodges over her body. Her markings were similar to those of a Friesian cow. She had black-and-white whiskers and a tail that wagged around like helicopter blades. When she met the children off the school bus she sometimes felt like she’d take off with the excitement. Her tongue was extra-long, especially after a cross-country fitness run or her morning press-ups. She knew that her ears were a bit odd, especially the one that permanently stood to attention. Recently she’d spent long hours in front of the mirror trying to stiffen her floppy one. But no amount of ear-obics would get it to stand upright. It didn’t matter what she looked like, the Cook family loved her.
Lara was glad to have left the Secret Service.
Sure, they spent millions on training me in the latest spying techniques and their intensive teaching programme has made me the most intelligent animal on the planet, but family life is much better than the life of a secret agent. And this holiday is fantastic, she thought, turning the sausages on the barbecue. How many families would trust their mutt to cook? she asked herself, adjusting her chef’s hat. The only things she really missed about being a spy were the gadgets. She’d had all sorts of fun with electric collars, alphabet dog biscuits and the lab’s special chemical formulas.
No need for those any more though, she thought, sipping her milkshake through a straw.
Mr Peacock sauntered down the road, twitching ever so slightly. It was close to his teatime and the smell of sausages cooking on a barbecue was making him drool. He could see smoke rising from behind the hedge and wondered what his wife would be making for his tea. Lara had been careful to set the barbecue up in a quiet spot, almost hidden from passers-by. She hadn’t realized the hedge had a low point that nosy neighbours could see over. Mr Peacock couldn’t help but look. He could see the top of a chef’s hat. As he walked on and the hedge dipped he could gradually see more of the hat – and the wearer. He spied an ear, a furry one with a hole in. His eye was twitching alarmingly now as he stopped in his tracks and shook his head. This walk was meant to clear his head of waterskiing, cricketing dogs and now here was a pooch chef. He gawped over the hedge and saw Lara cooking sausages and burgers on the barbie. He twitched in amazement as the mutt sauntered over to a deckchair and picked up a book. She fixed her glasses on the end of her nose and settled into a good read, noisily sipping the last of her milkshake.
Ahh, perfect, she thought. Shaken not stirred. Just the way I like it.
Mr Peacock quickened his pace in an effort to catch up with his wife.
‘Margaret,’ he shouted, ‘I think I need to see a doctor.’
As they sat down to eat, the Cook family marvelled at Lara’s skill. She was delighted that her first-ever barbecue had been such a success. Lara looked at her family’s happy faces and thought about her old life as a Spy Dog. It was certainly more exciting but this is where I really belong.
Lara cringed at the memory of one dangerous mission that had gone terribly wrong. She had been shot by a horrible criminal, Mr Big, who was now safely behind bars.
He’s got twenty-five years to think about the error of his ways, she sighed. It gave her great satisfaction to know that she’d put an end to his drug-smuggling business. He’s lost all his ill-gotten gains. She smiled as she remembered catching him.
She’d had to bite his bottom and wait for the police to arrive. She knew he was a very clever man. He had already escaped the police once and, before Lara caught him, he’d shot her several times. She put her paw to her ear and felt one of the bullet holes.
Boy, that had been close. But now, she thought, the biggest risk I take is going waterskiing or perhaps letting the sausages spit at me on the barbie.
Lara watched the kids munching on their burgers. She knew all three loved her but it was Ben who played with her the most. Sophie was very giggly – it was easy to make her laugh. All Lara had to do was pull a funny face or dance and Sophie would start to chuckle. she always had her head in a book and would spend hours writing stories or drawing pictures.
Ollie was the youngest but he had the most vivid imagination. He liked anything gruesome and could recall horrible stories about pirates and ogres, as if he’d actually been there. Lara loved messing about on his PlayStation and he was now only just about able to beat her. Little did Ollie know that while he was at nursery school she would spend most of the day practising her gaming skills. She had a very competitive streak.
Mum squirted some tomato sauce on to Lara’s sausage.
Mmm, delicious. I’ve never tried one of these before, she thought after biting into it.
Dad waited until Lara had finished her first sausage before explaining that she’d just eaten a hot dog. Ben cracked up laughing at Lara’s astonished face.
‘Don’t look so worried, Lara,’ he laughed. ‘They’re not real dogs – that’s just what they’re called.’
Thank goodness for that, coughed Lara, rubbing her tummy and still looking a bit concerned.
Lara’s teacher, Professor Cortex, would have frowned at burgers and sausages. As the head of Spy School, he had always insisted on healthy food, often mixed with his home-made brain formula that boosted intelligence. She felt guilty and reached for the salad bowl.
She was grateful to the professor and his team for everything they’d done. She had come through Spy Dog training head and shoulders above all the other animals and this had given her massive confidence.
But I have to put that behind me now, she thought. Just act normal. No more adventures.
She had been warned that any more scrapes could result in her being taken away from her beloved family. She watched Ben, Sophie and Ollie munching happily and made herself a promise: There’s no way I’m leaving these kids.
6. Breaking News
Mr Big and his fellow escapees settled into his apartment in London. It was total luxury and had cost him a packet but neither Gus nor Archie dared ask where he’d got the money from. Their bickering was already irritating him.
‘Boss, he won’t let me watch CBBC,’ complained Gus. ‘And he keeps telling me I’m stupid.’
Mr Big snatched the remote and flicked on the news. ‘If you two goons can’t agree then we’ll watch something I want to watch,’ he bellowed.
It was perfect timing. Hush descended as they saw news of their escape being broadcast on the BBC. Mr Big shuddered as a photo of him appeared on the screen.
‘Terrible,’ he moaned. ‘That picture is taken from such a bad angle.’
Photos of the other two came up next and they immediately went into panic mode.
‘Now everyone’s going to recognize us,’ whimpered Archie.
Mr Big looked at the pair and raised an eyebrow in agreement. They stood out a mile.
Gus took up nearly the whole settee and looked very dangerous. His massive body was scary enough but when you added his bald head, flat nose and tattoos he looked even more menacing. He had a snarling smile, made worse when he revealed his gold teeth. Mr Big considered that if you met Gus in a dark alley you would simply hand over your wallet without him even asking. Gus was a good old-fashioned sort of criminal – not very clever, but totally reliable.
Archie was a different type altogether. His scarlet face and tiny features were almost lost in a mass of hair. His eyes continually darted around the room like he was waiting to be attacked. His eyebrows were bushy and the thick hair covering his back was springing out of the top of his shirt. Mr Big was pleased to have Archie with him because what he lacked in strength he made up for in brains.
Mr Big signalled for hush and the unlikely trio focused once again on the news item. The reporter was standing outside the high-security prison under an umbrella. The heavy rain made it a difficult interview.
‘And exactly how did they escape?’ asked the presenter in the TV studio.
The reporter put his hand to his ear to listen harder. ‘Well, it seems that they simply tunnelled out,’ he shouted above the thundering rain. ‘The gang seems to have been very well organized. They overpowered a fellow prisoner and, once out into the open, they broke into a van and drove through the gates.’
The reporter’s umbrella blew inside out but, like the true professional he was, he carried on. ‘The prison governor has been suspended and the Home Secretary has called for a full public enquiry because it’s the first time anyone’s ever escaped from this maximum-security prison.’
‘And are the men dangerous?’ asked the presenter.
‘Extremely,’ bawled the reporter. ‘All three have long criminal records and the public are asked not to approach them.’
Mr Big flicked the TV off. He’d anticipated being on the news. It wasn’t a problem. His criminal mind had been working on a cunning plan. Six months in prison had been time well spent.
‘We’re famous,’ cheered Archie, bouncing on the settee. ‘We’re the first ones to ever escape from that prison’
‘And we’re dangerous,’ growled Gus, cracking his knuckles.
‘Very dangerous indeed,’ purred Mr Big. ‘Especially if you’re a black-and-white dog.’
The doorbell rang and Mr Big ordered Archie to check it out. He flicked on the CCTV monitor. The grainy picture showed a woman and a dog waiting outside. Mr Big nodded and Archie released the downstairs door. A minute later the woman knocked and Archie let her in. She and Mr Big embraced while the muzzled dog sat by her side.
‘Here’s what you asked for,’ she said, pointing to the black-and-white dog. ‘Meet Bambi. An exact replica of Spy Dog. Evil and vicious, as you ordered.’
The escapees stared at the dog. It looked a bit comical with one ear sticking up. The woman passed around a photo of Lara and the men marvelled at the likeness.
‘Bambi’s a stupid name for a dog,’ said Archie. ‘It’s not very scary at all.’
‘Bambi is a code name,’ explained the woman. ‘It stands for ”Big Aggressive Menacing Bad Influence”. And, believe you me, Bambi lives up to her name, hence the muzzle.’
Despite his size, Gus was a bit of a softy when it came to dogs.
‘Hello, Bambi-Wambi,’ he cooed, putting his hand out to stroke the animal.
Bambi issued a hands-off warning growl from behind her muzzle and Gus retreated, a worried look on his face.
‘Excellent,’ nodded Mr Big. ‘And she looks exactly as I remember.’ He rubbed his bottom where Lara had sunk her teeth in. ‘How did you manage to get that ridiculous ear right?’
‘Getting it to stand up required surgery,’ explained the women.
Mr Big nodded again. ‘And have you trained Bambi as I asked?’
‘Six months of intensive training,’ answered the woman. ‘You won’t get a better animal. Follows instructions to the letter. She’s supremely intelligent when she needs to be, but horrible with it. This dog is the canine equivalent of you – a calculating, evil, criminal genius.’
Mr Big loved compliments. He stroked his chin.
‘Excellent,’ he growled. ‘I will leave you to complete the next part of the plan. Guys, you know what to do. I have an appointment with the best surgeon money can buy. See you in six weeks.’
Mr Big collected his bag and let himself out. The gang watched from the window as his Rolls swept out of the garage.
7. Neighbourhood Watch
The Cooks returned from their holiday and slipped back into their normal routine. Ben and Sophie went back to school, Ollie to nursery school and Mum and Dad went to work. Lara was home alone, but, as always, she tried to use her time wisely. Her latest mission was to organize the local pets into a neighbourhood-watch team. The assorted group of dogs and cats assembled on Tuesday and Thursday mornings to be put through their paces. George the tortoise always came too, usually setting off hours before, to get to the meetings on time. Lara wasn’t quite sure how he’d ever come in useful, but she couldn’t fault his positive attitude. The dogs and cats still eyed each other suspiciously.
Lara had told them to put their differences aside for the sake of teamwork but Rex the Alsatian couldn’t help licking his lips every time he looked at next doors tabby.
‘You never know when we might need to catch a suspect,’ Lara had told them at the last meeting.
They were all in awe of Lara, she was so clever. They wanted to work in the neighbourhood-watch team in the hope that some of her genius might rub off on them.
It was Tuesday morning and the pets were assembled in Lara’s garden.
‘OK,’ she began. ‘Remind me what we learned last time.’
Lara watched as the animals concentrated and tried to remember. Some weren’t very clever. Rex couldn’t get the tabby out of his mind. Jasper scratched at a flea and Ruby looked puzzled. Tiger couldn’t remember what he’d had for breakfast that morning, never mind what they did last time.
Santa raised his paw as Lara had told them to. ‘Er, last session we did search and rescue,’ he recalled. ‘You hid George and we sniffed him out.’
‘Excellent, little fella,’ barked Lara. Santa flushed with pride. ‘Today’s lesson is even more advanced. We are going to learn how to enter a house by an upstairs window. This
technique can come in handy if there’s a fire or maybe a burglar upstairs, maybe even if you’re locked out one night. Who knows.’
The children’s trampoline had been pushed up against the side of the house and Lara had dragged Mum’s small keep-fit bouncer from the bedroom to go alongside it. Just before the meeting she had opened the upstairs bathroom window.
‘Who’s first?’ She looked around at the volunteers. Probably not George, she considered.
‘What have we got to do, Lara?’ barked the Labrador from number six. ‘Is it dangerous?’
‘A bit,’ admitted Lara. ‘We learned this at Spy School so it’s quite advanced.’ She looked at the line of dogs and cats. ‘Jimmy, what about you?’ she asked. ‘You’re the bravest little Scottie I know. And you would easily fit through the window.’
Jimmy stood as tall as his stumpy legs would allow. He puffed his chest out with pride. The bravest she knows, wow! Like a soldier on parade, he stepped forward to volunteer his full pedigree name: ‘James Highland Glen White Mist McDouglas at your service, ma’am.’
‘OK,’ smiled Lara. ‘The run-up’s even longer than your name. You leap on to the small bouncer, then on to the big one and finally through the upstairs window,’ she barked, pointing upward. Jimmy looked less sure. ‘Come on, Jimbo, I know you can do it. Give it a try.’
Jimmy nodded and ran off to the other end of the garden. He would need a good run-up just to get on to the trampoline. Lara gave him the nod and his scampering run-up began. George watched jealously as Jimmy’s legs became a blur. He hurled himself on to the bouncer. Weyhey!
Then on to the trampoline. Yeehah!
He bounced up towards the window. Wow, I’m flying, he thought as he looked down at the open-mouthed team below. He managed a quick look over the trees to the river before he hit the house with a crunch. He slid down the wall and Lara caught him perfectly.