by Andrew Cope
‘Unlucky, Jimmy,’ she soothed as she dusted him off. ‘No permanent damage done. Plenty of spring, you just need a little practice with direction.’ She looked around at the others who had all taken a step backward. ‘Now, who’s next …?’
8. A Menacing Mutt
The old lady couldn’t believe that it had happened in broad daylight.
‘So tell me once more, madam. It was definitely a black-and-white dog that robbed you?’
The lady was still shaking. ‘Y-Yes, officer,’ she stammered. ‘I had just collected my pension and was walking home when the dog came up to me from the side. It knocked me off balance and snatched my handbag.’
‘And then what, madam?’ asked the policeman, licking his pencil like he’d seen police do in the movies.
‘Well, I tried to grab it back but the dog growled at me. It stuck its nose in my bag and pulled out my purse, as if it knew exactly what it was looking for.’ the lady composed herself a little. ‘And then it ran off. I know it sounds absurd, officer, but I’ve been mugged by a mutt.’
‘Mugged … by … a … mutt,’ repeated the policeman as he scribbled on his notepad.
The policeman knocked on his boss’s door.
‘Another one, sarge,’ he said sadly. ‘This time an old dear, mugged in broad daylight. Same dog by the sounds of it.’ He flipped open his notebook and read. ‘Black-and-white splodges, medium size, one ear up and one ear down. ”Mugged by a mutt”. Just like the other descriptions.’
The sergeant beckoned him in. ‘Sit down, PC Chandler,’ he said. ‘I’ve just been watching this.’ He pointed to a flat-screen TV on the wall. ‘It’s the latest CCTV footage from the bank job last Monday’ PC Chandler shook his head in disbelief as he watched a black-and-white dog enter the High Street bank. The video footage switched to inside the bank and the policemen observed the dog waiting in the queue. One of the customers tried to stroke it and the dog snarled. A bank clerk came out and tried to shoo the animal away but it became angry and bared its teeth. The staff withdrew and the dog sat down.
‘Watch what happens next,’ said the sergeant as he fast-forwarded the video.
The men watched as customers sprinted in and out of the bank, the dog sitting patiently throughout. The sergeant took his finger off the fast-forward button and the video slowed. ‘This is where it gets interesting,’ he said.
The policemen watched as the security guard arrived to collect the day’s takings and the dog attacked. It surprised the guard, grabbed the money bag in its teeth and made an easy getaway. The footage cut to the outside and the policemen watched as the dog bounded out of shot.
‘That’s the fourth one this week,’ explained the sergeant, scratching his head. ‘Bank, post office, corner shop and now this mugging.’ He rewound the video to get a close-up of the dog’s face. The snarling animal was frozen on screen, fangs on full view, its sticky-up ear making it look faintly ridiculous.
‘I want this dog caught,’ he ordered. ‘I can’t keep the press quiet much longer. If we don’t get to the bottom of this crime, our force will be a laughing stock. I can already see the “Canine Crime” headlines.’ The sergeant’s fist banged on the table to emphasize his words. ‘All leave is cancelled. I need every available officer patrolling the streets and, just to be sure, I’m going to contact higher authorities to enlist some help.’
9. A Canine Crime Wave
Gus and Archie had enjoyed working with Bambi’s trainer, Cynthia. She was a real expert in animal behaviour and the three followed Mr Big’s orders precisely, even if some of his instructions were a bit unusual. It involved them moving out of his expensive London flat but this had been compensated for by the thrill of watching Bambi carry out some very clever crimes. They had spent six busy weeks in the Midlands. It had seemed strange that Mr Big had ordered each robbery to be done under the watchful gaze of a security camera.
They were especially proud of yesterday’s crime, which had been the most difficult one yet. It had taken a great deal of preparation but it had been worth it.
Archie had checked the CCTV camera and given the thumbs-up. ‘It’s pointing right where we want it,’ he’d said. ‘Lights, camera … action!’
Bambi had wandered down the street, waiting for the right moment. As a bus had approached, she had walked out into the road. The driver had slammed his foot on the brake and the bus had jerked to a halt, throwing the passengers out of their seats. The driver leaped out of his cab and threw his hands to his head.
‘Oh no,’ he cried. ‘Poor dog. She just ran out, honest. I couldn’t do anything about it.’
Bambi lay still, waiting for the signal. Cynthia had blown her whistle and Bambi jumped up at the driver. Then the criminal dog had got on to the bus and started snarling viciously at the passengers. It was clear what she wanted. The CCTV camera had recorded the terrified passengers stuffing their watches, wallets and jewellery into a bag around the Bambi’s neck. One teenager refused to hand over her iPod, earning a curled lip and snarl for her bravery. When the bag was full Bambi took off down the street, the courageous driver in hot pursuit. By the time he made it back to his passengers the police had arrived and were taking statements. PC Chandler had opened his notebook and licked his pencil.
‘Don’t tell me, sir,’ he’d guessed, shaking his head, ‘you’ve been hijacked by a black-and-white dog?’
It had been six weeks since Bambi had arrived and the gang had returned to Mr Big’s expensive London flat. Wads of banknotes were piled up on the kitchen table. Stolen watches tumbled out of drawers and a fabulously expensive painting was newly installed above the fireplace. Bambi was indeed a perfect criminal. She had just the right mixture of skill, bravery and toughness.
Archie, Gus and Cynthia waited excitedly as Mr Big’s Rolls-Royce swept into the garage, followed a few minutes later by the sound of a key in the door.
‘Can’t wait to show the boss what we’ve stolen,’ grinned Archie, rubbing his hands in glee.
Their faces fell as a stranger entered the apartment. Bambi sniffed and growled, straining at her leash. Archie shot up from the sofa and started to sweep the piles of cash from view.
Gus lumbered towards the stranger. ‘Oi, who are you? And what you doing in our pad?’ he asked, gold teeth flashing beneath his curled lip.
‘Sit down, guys,’ ordered the stranger. ‘And listen to the rest of the plan.’ Gus was puzzled. He recognized the voice but not the face. ‘And it’s not your pad, it’s mine.’
It took a moment to register.
‘Boss?’ asked Gus. ‘Is it you …?’
‘Of course it is, idiot,’ came Mr Big’s reply. ‘I’m delighted you didn’t recognize me. That means my surgery has been worthwhile. What do you think?’
Mr Big stood tall, sweeping his hands down his body, allowing the gang to admire his new look. They stared open-mouthed. He was slimmer for a start. The beer belly had disappeared. His new head of hair was blond and combed back. His face was almost unrecongnizable. The squashed nose was now a cute ski slope. His flabby double chin had been replaced by a single, firm one and his cheeks lifted, film-star style. The dark ‘suitcases’ under his eyes were now just hand luggage and his teeth sparkled. Everything was a bit overdone and his face seemed a bit tight. But the surgeon had earned his money. Mr Big looked ten years younger, even if he did find it difficult to smile.
Cynthia sniffed. ‘And that’s a very powerful smell,’ she said politely, almost overcome by the aftershave.
‘Ah, yes,’ Mr Big agreed. ‘Sorry about that but I plan to meet that dratted Spy Dog. As you know, dogs have a good sense of smell, so I have had to change everything, including my aftershave. There's absolutely no way that Spy Dog will recognize me now.’ Mr Big broke into as wide a smile as was possible with his new face. ‘And guys, I’m no longer Mr Big, the criminal mastermind. Everything about me has changed.’ The gang’s boss took a deep breath and adjusted his voice into something much posher. ‘I am now Sir Humphrey
Goldfinger,’ he announced in perfect Queen’s English. ‘Self-made billionaire, charity worker and, to the general public, all-round good guy. And this, my friends, is our latest criminal target,’ he purred, walloping a rolled-up newspaper on to the table.
Archie pounced on it excitedly. ‘ “Millennium Diamond Exhibition opens on Saturday”,’ he read out loud. ‘ “The world’s largest diamond will be on display at London’s Natural History Museum. The gem, considered priceless, is normally kept under lock and key with the Crown jewels.” ’
He jumped off the sofa to avoid Gus who was trying to snatch the newspaper to read it for himself.
‘ “In a very rare public appearance, the diamond is going on general display.” ’ Archie paused to look at the others. Their thrilled faces mirrored his. His voice rose in excitement as he read the next sentence. ‘ “The exhibition is to be opened by multimillionaire Sir Humphrey Goldfinger, who is kindly sponsoring the event.” ’
They all looked at Mr Big, whose glow was almost royal. Gus pointed at his boss and mouthed the words ‘That’s you’.
Archie continued, ‘ “The diamond will be under close guard throughout its time in the museum and Sir Humphrey has pledged to make sure everything is done to ensure its safe-keeping.” ’ Archie punched the air in triumph while Gus started punching the wall, already practising knocking the guards out.
Mr Big’s smile was now so big that he could feel his new face stretching tight under the strain. He lit a huge cigar and imagined what it would be like to be the richest man in the world. ‘The Millennium Diamond will, of course, be perfectly safe,’ he announced in his posh Sir Humphrey accent. ‘Safely in my possession,’ he roared. He looked at Cynthia. ‘There is a little matter of a Spy Dog to attend to before we do the diamond theft.’ He puffed on his massive cigar and disappeared in a cloud of grey smoke. ‘If you’ve done your job properly, that horrible dog may already be behind bars.’
10. Dognapped
Every dog warden in the area had been called to a meeting. A large photograph of the snarling black-and-white dog had been beamed on to a big screen and the wardens offered a massive reward for the one who could catch it.
‘It’s a very dangerous animal,’ explained the chief warden. ‘It seems to have been on our patch for the last six weeks. Don’t take any risks. We don’t want to alarm the public. We must simply catch the mutt and deal with it.’
The dog catchers scurried off, eager to be the first to claim the reward.
Lara’s Tuesday-morning neighbourhood-watch meeting had just broken up. Jimmy the Scottie had finally made it through the upstairs window. There had been a loud crash as he hit the bathroom mirror so Lara had gone up to check that he hadn’t bashed his nose too hard. Then she trotted down the street to see old Mr Salter who was recovering from an operation.
Perhaps I can make him a cuppa or run an errand for him, she thought, totally unaware of the dog warden who had been spying on the meeting. He had been amazed to see the Scottie dog flying through the window but he was more interested in the black-and-white mutt that seemed to be in charge. He looked at his crumpled photo of the snarling canine criminal and his heartbeat raced. He compared it with the dog that was crossing the road in front of him. She had the same markings, the same stupid ears. She didn’t look particularly dangerous but he imagined Lara curling her top lip and was certain the reward would be his.
As Lara squeezed through Mr Salter’s gate, the warden pounced. He knew she was dangerous and that he would only get one chance. He wasn’t about to waste it. He jumped out from behind a wall and caught Lara around the neck with a loop on the end of a long pole. She had no time to react. He was an expert dog catcher. She tried to run but was hauled back and pinned to the ground as the warden took his photo out once more. Now he was certain.
‘OK, dangerous dog,’ he hissed, ‘let’s see how you like this.’
Lara struggled, shaking her head, trying to get loose. What’s going on? Get this thing off me.
The warden tightened the loop so she was nearly choking and dragged Lara to his van. Keeping her at arm’s length, he forced her into the back and slammed the doors.
Lara threw herself against the side of the van. Let me out. I think I’m being dognapped, she howled.
The warden sprinted around to the driver’s side and jumped in. Wheels spinning, the van roared down the road in search of the reward.
Lara couldn’t work out what was going on.
It seems the whole doggie neighbourhood has been rounded up and brought to the police station, she thought as a dozen dogs were lined up in a special room.
Lara took her position as dog number twelve in the line. An old lady with a black eye entered the room, helped by a policewoman, guiding her by the elbow. The old lady doddered along the line of dogs, looking carefully at each one. She paused at number six, a Labrador, and gave him a stroke. Jimmy at number eight got a coo of delight.
‘Isn’t he lovely?’ she smiled at the policewoman. ‘And what’s he done to his poor nose?’
Number nine got a very firm ‘No’. Number ten got a ‘Definitely not’ and Sparky at number eleven got a ‘Wrong colour’.
Lara sat patiently, wondering what was going on. The old lady shuffled in front of her and Lara saw the lady’s mouth fall open. Her face went white and she started to shake. Lara watched in horror as the lady raised a bony finger and pointed at her.
‘That’s the one. That’s the horrible dog that attacked me,’ she cried. ‘I remember the black-and-white splodges and the one ear sticking up.’ The old lady burst into tears and the policewoman offered her a tissue.
Hang on a second, thought Lara. Did you say I attacked you?
‘Are you sure, Mrs Owen?’ asked the policewoman. ‘Are you absolutely sure it’s number twelve?’
Mrs Owen took another look and her wailing said it all. Lara watched as she was led away, sobbing into the tissue.
This can’t be right, thought Lara. There must be some mistake. I’ve never attacked anyone in my life. Well, not good people anyway. Only baddies who deserved it.
All went quiet for a moment and the dogs settled down.
‘What’s going on, Lara?’ barked Jimmy. ‘Why did that old lady point at you and burst into tears?’
‘Not sure, Jimbo,’ she replied. ‘Something very strange is going on.’
Doggie eyes watched as the door swung open once more and a teenager entered the room. She was led in front of the line of dogs, shaking her head as she went. She didn’t even get halfway before she pointed at Lara.
‘That’s the one,’ she said, raising her finger like a cricket umpire. ‘Mutt number twelve. That’s the horrible dog that stole my iPod.’
Eh? Did what? thought Lara. I’ve got an iPod of my own so why would I need yours? And did you call me a ‘Horrible Dog’? How rude!
The other dogs were led away.
‘Keep your chin up, Lara,’ yapped Jimmy ‘We know you didn’t do it because you were training us all afternoon.’
Lara was alone in the room. The warden who had caught her was summoned and she was hooked round the neck once again and led away to the cells.
‘Hang on,’ she barked frantically, ‘this isn’t right. I’m innocent until proved guilty. The old lady is wrong. Whatever she says, I didn’t do it.’ Lara struggled and the noose tightened.
She bared her teeth and growled at the warden. ‘You’re strangling me, stupid. Let me go.’
Lara shook her head in desperation and the noose started to cut into her neck.
The dog catcher struggled to control the wriggling dog. ‘Boy, you are a lively one,’ he sneered.
He heard a series of barks and growls. He looked at the helpless dog, who now had her fangs bared, looking ready to savage him.
‘Nasty dog,’ he said. ‘You, pooch, are sooo guilty and I am going to be sooo rich when I collect my reward.’
And you are going to be sooo sorry when you find you’ve made a mistake, choke
d Lara as she was bundled into a tiny cage in a cell. The noose was removed, the cage door slammed and Lara sucked in lungfuls of air. The dog warden disappeared to collect his reward.
Lara couldn’t work out whether she was shivering from cold or fright. What on earth is going on? The cage was too small to pace up and down so she sat and thought about her awful day, a million things spinning around her mind. It makes no sense.
Night came and she tried to get some rest. Lara lay with her head on her paws and whimpered softly to herself as she fell into a restless sleep.
11. Community Service
The Cook children didn’t know what to think when Lara didn’t come home.
‘She always meets us off the school bus,’ explained Sophie to Mum. ‘And I mean, always. Like all the time. There must be something really wrong for her not to be here.’
‘Perhaps she’s had an accident or got lost?’ suggested Ben who was white with worry.
‘Or dognapped by an enemy agent?’ piped Ollie rather too cheerfully. ‘The professor said people might try and steal her.’
Ben went whiter still. He stormed off and collected a search party of school friends to circle the neighbourhood on bikes, looking for their beloved Lara. Mum made them give up at 9 p.m. when it was getting too dark to see anyway. Ben went to bed and lay wide-eyed with worry. He would be up at dawn to start the search again. He struggled to sleep until eventually tears and tiredness overwhelmed him.
Professor Cortex hated sleeping. It got in the way of his research programme so he always kept it to a minimum. He was already in the laboratory when Ben phoned first thing the following morning. His black van broke all speed limits and pulled into the Cooks’ drive exactly two hours later. A posse of black-suited agents jumped out and began scouring the area. The professor emerged and burst into the kitchen, surprising a red-eyed Mrs Cook making breakfast. The professor didn’t do hellos.