by Andrew Cope
‘GM451,’ he asked, ‘is she back?’
Mum shook her head. ‘No, professor,’ she sniffed. ‘Ben, Sophie and my husband are already out looking. We’ve not seen her since breakfast yesterday. No text, no phone call, no email … nothing.’
Ollie looked up from his cocoa pops. ‘Captured by an enemy agent,’ he suggested perkily.
‘Quite,’ smiled the professor. ‘All very disturbing.’ He turned to his second in command. ‘I want the area searched thoroughly,’ he ordered. ‘Leave no stone unturned. Visit every dog shelter, barn and police station in a fifty-mile radius. I want a result by midday. Understood?’
The agent turned on his heels to organize the search. The professor poured some hot water into a mug. Without offering any to Mrs Cook, he took a jar from his pocket and poured some home-made brain-boosting powder into the water, stirring furiously.
‘Think, Maximus, think.’ He sipped the liquid and calmed down. ‘This could be very serious indeed, Mrs Cook,’ he said softly. ‘If enemy agents are involved, this will have to go all the way to the Prime Minister.’
At 10.41 the professor’s mobile rang. He answered it immediately
‘Yes,’ he barked. Mum watched as his forehead creased into lines. ‘Where? OK. Where’s that? Which police station exactly?’ The professor paced up and down the kitchen with a serious look on his face.
‘Why? You’re joking!’ Mum watched the professor’s face. Whoever was at the other end clearly wasn’t joking. ‘A bank? And a post office? An old lady … surely not.’ He shot a worried glance at Mum. ‘And she’s hijacked a bus?’ The professor’s creases deepened. ‘But she’s already got an iPod. I’m on my way’ he snapped as he pocketed his mobile.
Lara had spent an uncomfortable night in the police cell. She was relieved when the door opened and in marched the professor and the children. Ben and Sophie ran straight to the cage.
‘Lara, you’re alive!’ cried Sophie. ‘We thought you’d had an accident.’
‘Or been dognapped,’ added Ben, stroking his pet through the cage bars.
‘Careful, lad,’ said the dog warden standing nearby. ‘That dog’s a killer. It’s a dangerous brute who’s already robbed a bank and mugged an old lady.’
Ben looked the man in the eye and laughed. ‘What, Lara? No chance. I mean, she does have special skills but only uses them for good. Don’t you, girl?’
Lara nodded. She was enjoying the fuss, especially being tickled behind the ear. Apparently I hijacked a bus too. Can you believe it?
‘Don’t be fooled, lad,’ said the warden. ‘I caught the brute myself yesterday. It growled and snarled like a wolf. If I hadn’t pinned it down it would have bitten me.’
Yes, well, that was because you were strangling me, thought Lara. And I object to you making up horrible stories about me. I demand to see my lawyer.
The police chief entered the cell and Lara listened as he listed the crimes of the canine baddie. He brought in a TV and showed a CCTV video to the professor and the children. The professor gave a low whistle.
‘It certainly looks like Lara,’ he agreed. ‘Same markings and everything. But it can’t be. Lara’s trained only to do good.’
The professor spent an hour telling the police about Lara’s background and all the good work she’d done. The police had to sign the Official Secrets Act before they were told of Lara’s special abilities, her Spy School training and how she came to be living with the Cooks.
‘So you see,’ the professor finished, ‘you are very lucky to have such an expert canine crime fighter on your patch. Have you never wondered why your crime figures have been so low for the last six months?’
The police chief shook his head. He still wasn’t convinced. ‘She’s been picked out at an identity parade,’ he reminded everyone. ‘The old lady and the teenager were certain.’
The professor puffed out his cheeks and scratched his head. He agreed it was puzzling.
‘And I’m equally certain that someone is framing GM451. There has to be a criminal out there who is trying to get rid of her.’
Ben and Sophie looked alarmed. Lara was worried by the words ‘get rid of her’. Mmm, don’t much like the sound of that.
After a lot of talking, the professor managed to persuade the police chief to release Lara. In return Lara would help catch the real criminal dog and the mastermind behind it. The chief gave them a final warning.
‘Think of it like community service. We’ll be watching GM451 very, very closely,’ he said. ‘If she so much as drops a crisp packet or poos in the park, we’ll have no choice but to rearrest her. Next time there will be no second chance. It will be jail. Or worse. Understand?’
Lara didn’t like the idea of jail but ‘or worse’ really made her shiver.
But I don’t drop litter and I most certainly do not poo in the park, thought Lara. First thing in the morning I will get my neighbourhood-watch gang to find this evil dog and clear my name.
12. Identity Fraud
Thursday’s neighbourhood-watch meeting gave Lara the opportunity to spread the word about the dangerous dog in their neighbourhood. She was sure they would be able to track down the nasty impostor and clear her name.
‘It’s a proper mission,’ she told the meeting. ‘A chance to put your training into practice.’
The team was keen to help out and Lara watched proudly as they set about their search.
The dogs scattered to all corners of the town. The cats stayed closer to home, some preferring to curl up, saying they might go on patrol later.
Typical feline behaviour, thought Lara.
George the tortoise headed into town to do his bit. He’d packed for a long trip.
Potter and Meg took the High Street, checking out criminals’ favourite places, like the banks and the post office. They spotted a couple of drivers breaking the law but were disappointed that there was nothing out of the ordinary. Potter had just suggested they go back home (via the butcher’s) when they spotted Lara across the road. They watched her trotting into the newsagent and waited a while, planning to report to her about their morning.
Two minutes later Lara trotted out of the shop with a bag in her mouth.
‘Hi, Lara,’ barked Meg. ‘We’ve been searching the High Street and Market Place, keeping an eye out for that horrible dog.’
Lara nodded, unable to speak because of the bag.
Potter felt that something wasn’t quite right.
‘What have you bought?’ he asked. ‘What’s in the bag, Lara?’
The black-and-white dog dropped the bag and growled, ‘None of your business, ugly mutt.’
Potter was taken aback.
‘Oh, right. I only asked,’ he said, rather hurt that his boss should talk to him in that way.
Just then the shopkeeper ran out of the door and tried to rugby-tackle the black-and-white dog.
‘Come here, mutt,’ he shouted, ‘and give me that bag.’ He yelled to the shoppers in the square, ‘This dog has stolen money from my till. Someone call the police.’
Potter and Meg raised their hackles and growled.
‘So you’re the impostor,’ snarled Potter. ‘I suggest you give us the bag. It’s two against one. And we’ve been trained by the world’s top Spy Dog.’
Bambi snarled back, ‘And you two are outnumbered by me.’
She leaped at Potter, knocking him to the ground. Meg tried to join in but was no match for Bambi’s combat training. There was a ball of snarling and tangled legs and paws. The shoppers scattered. Meg and Potter were left battered and bleeding as they watched Bambi escape with the money. Potter ran after her but the black-and-white dog was too quick.
The two friends limped back home. When the real Lara saw their wounds, she called off the search. George the tortoise had made it all the way to the end of the lawn by then.
‘This dog is too dangerous,’ Lara barked to her team. ‘Potter and Meg are to receive bravery awards, but nobody else is to go near this
horrid animal. Understood?’
The dogs and cats looked at the state of Potter and Meg and shuddered. They looked at Lara and were amazed by her confidence. Lara looked at each one of them very firmly.
‘The impostor is mine.’
13. Emergency Action
Lara was annoyed that Bambi had got away. But it was now Friday and Lara liked Fridays. She was about to do a bit of dusting to help Mum when the phone rang. The answer machine kicked into action and Lara cocked her head as she listened to the frantic voice on the line.
‘Hello. Hello there,’ it began. ‘Is anybody home? This is Sheila Borrett from number eleven Melton Avenue. The house with the blue door. I need some very urgent help and didn’t know who else to call.’
Lara heard Mrs Borrett tell her husband that she was talking to the answer machine. ‘Well, leave a message anyway,’ Lara heard him say in the background. ‘It’s important that someone sorts it.’
Mrs Borrett came back on, shaky and frightened. ‘This may sound daft,’ she said, ‘but I’m ringing from my holiday in Spain. I’ve left my gas cooker on. Definitely on. I’m really worried that it will explode. Can someone go around right now and turn it off. It’s urgent –’ The phone beeped and she was cut off.
Cynthia replaced the handset and smiled at Mr Big. ‘How was that?’ she asked.
‘Sounded convincing,’ he purred. ‘The next few minutes will tell.’
Yikes, thought Lara. That’s the last thing we need. Poor Mrs Borrett.
Without a second thought, Lara tore out of the house towards Melton Avenue. She cut across the park, down Packhorse Road and past the school. Lara was racing against time. She was pleased that she’d continued her morning keep-fit routine. It was coming in handy.
Lara arrived at the blue door of number eleven, panting hard.
OK, how do I get in? she wondered. All the windows are shut. She sprinted around the back to check it out. All seem locked round here too. Or are they? she thought, noticing that the kitchen window was slightly open. She jumped up on her hind legs for a closer inspection. It’s a very small gap, but it’s the only way in.
Lara slowly started to climb up the trellis next to the window. Here I go again, she sighed. A dog pretending to be a cat burglar! She looked down at her tummy. I wish I’d not eaten so many custard creams, she thought. Here goes. She squeezed a paw through the gap, undid the catch and opened the window. Soon she was half in and half out, gasping for breath. Lara’s back legs kicked as she tried to squirm in. Come on, Lara, wriggle, girl. This is an emergency. Minutes later she was standing in the sink and sniffing, expecting to smell gas. Nothing. Just the normal kitchen odours. I hope I’m in the right house. She jumped down to the floor and approached the cooker, inspecting the knobs. They were all off. Lara smacked her paw against her head. I don’t believe it. False alarm. Silly Mrs Borrett, scaring me like that. Looks like I’ve broken in for nothing.
Lara trotted through the lounge, heading for the front door. She noticed a large sack by the sofa. I wonder what that is? She nosed in it and saw jewellery and cutlery. Strange, thought Lara. What’s it doing down here? She slipped a diamond bracelet over her paw to take a closer look. Wow, real diamonds. These must be worth a fortune. I wonder why Mrs B has left everything down here in a sack.
Lara heard a noise and lifted her nose out of the sack. She cocked her head. I can hear cars and slamming doors. And footsteps. I can smell people – lots of people. She jumped out of the way as the front door splintered and a dozen armed policemen fell into the lounge.
‘Paws up, mutt,’ screamed the leading officer, pointing his laser handgun at Lara’s forehead, the red dot feeling very uncomfortable. ‘Put the jewels back. You are under arrest. Whatever you say may be used in evidence against you. Do you understand?’
Er, there must be some mistake, officer, thought Lara, raising her front paws. This isn’t what it looks like, honest. I got an emergency call. The gas was left on … well, actually it wasn’t but I didn’t know until I’d got in.
The dog warden appeared in the doorway, armed with his noose and pole.
Oh no, not you again. Lara froze as he hoopla’d her neck once more.
The half-strangled Spy Dog was dragged outside and locked in a van with three thuggish police Alsatians.
‘We’ve heard about you, super-dog,’ they growled. ‘Apparently you’ve turned bad. Not so super any more, eh? Caught red-handed stealing the lady’s valuables. It’s going to be a long jail sentence for you or … worse.’
Lara gulped. Worse than a long jail sentence! I really don’t like the sound of that.
14. Visiting Hours
The next day Lara was taken to a high-security police station in London. She spent two days alone in a tiny cage in a cell. Solitary confinement gave her plenty of time to consider what was happening.
I was set up, she told herself. The phone call, the sack of valuables, the police tip-off. Somebody is trying to get me in serious trouble. And it looks like they’ve succeeded. How could I be so stupid?
Lara was relieved when she heard she had a visitor. She could smell him way before the door opened. A policeman entered the room, accompanied by a well-dressed man with slicked-back hair.
‘Your lawyer’s here to see you, doggie,’ said the policeman.
The lawyer looked at Lara and then at the policeman.
‘Oh, right,’ said the constable, realizing that the lawyer wanted to be alone with his client.
The door closed and the lawyer went over to Lara’s cage. He had an unusual face, sort of expressionless. Lara was overcome by the strong smell of aftershave. He pulled up a chair and sat in front of the dog.
Weird, thought Lara. I’ve never seen a face quite like it. Are you really my lawyer? she pondered.
The man sat in silence for a while, with a painful smirk fixed on his face. Lara watched as he took a fat cigar from his pocket and lit it, puffing a cloud of smoke in her face.
Excuse me, she thought, wafting it away. Do you mind?
Mr Big finally broke his silence. ‘We meet again,’ he said calmly. ‘I thought you ought to know how it feels to be on the inside of a cage.’ There was silence as he drew long and hard on his cigar. ‘How does it feel to lose everything?’ he asked, blowing smoke rings at the dog. The man’s eyes were shining.
Do I know you? thought Lara, racking her brain. Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.
‘Of course, you probably don’t recognize me,’ continued Mr Big. ‘Neither my face nor my smell.’
Correct. I’d certainly remember an ugly mug like yours. Give me a clue.
‘You may remember this,’ said Mr Big in his posh accent. He stood up and loosened his belt. To Lara’s amazement he dropped his trousers, turned away and pulled down his pants, revealing his hairy bottom.
No need for that, thought Lara, amazed that her lawyer should be dropping his trousers. She noticed some red marks on his bottom. Her mind was racing. She looked closer. They look like teeth marks! Thankfully the pants were now back up and the man was tightening his belt once more.
The visitor continued through clenched teeth, ‘Teeth marks, Spy Dog. Your teeth marks to be exact. Now do you know who I am?’
Lara shut her eyes and took a deep breath. I don’t believe it, she thought. Mr Big. The man who put this bullet hole in my ear. I thought you were locked up? They gave you twenty-five years.
The man smirked. He blew some more smoke rings at Lara. ‘You are supposed to be the world’s top Spy Dog. The 007 of the canine world. Well, my name’s Big,’ he puffed. ‘Mr Big. And all this time you thought I was behind bars! Now it’s your turn. Isn’t it hilarious?’ he cackled, choking on his cigar.
So this is all your doing, thought Lara, piecing the plot together. The evil impostor dog, the phone call about the gas alert, the sack of jewels …
‘Don’t you just love it when a plan works out the way you want it?’ sneered Mr Big, tapping his cigar ash on to the floor. ‘But, of c
ourse, putting you behind bars is only the first part. The best bit happens tomorrow. And you are powerless to do anything about it.’
Mr Big opened his newspaper and held it up for Lara to see. She didn’t have her glasses so she couldn’t read the small print. But she could see the picture of Mr Big and the headline: ‘Sir Humphrey Goldfinger to open Millennium Diamond Exhibition’.
Sir Humphrey Goldfinger. Millennium Diamond. You? No way!
‘Tomorrow, dear mutt, I, Sir Humphrey Goldfinger, will pull off the biggest crime in British history while you sit here, completely helpless.’ He paused for effect, taking time to blow one last grey cloud her way. ‘I’ll send you a postcard from Brazil.’ Mr Big folded the newspaper under his arm and stood up to leave. ‘Tatty bye, darling,’ he waved over his shoulder. ‘Enjoy your stay in this lovely hotel.’
Lara watched as Mr Big walked out of the cell. The tobacco smoke cleared, leaving Lara alone once more. Think, Lara, think. This is going to need a Spy Dog solution.
15. Detective Ben
Ben was distraught. Sophie was permanently red-eyed. Ollie was too young to understand so he was remaining cheerful. Dad tried to explain it to them once again.
‘Look, I know it’s hard to believe,’ he said, ‘but she was caught breaking in. She had a sack of stolen goods. She was wearing one of the lady’s diamond bracelets, for heaven’s sake. I mean, what other explanation can there be?’
‘I don’t know, but there has to be one,’ shouted Ben as he stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. ‘Lara is not a criminal,’ he said quietly to himself as he entered the lounge. Ben sank into the sofa, arms folded, his face like thunder. ‘And I’m going to prove it.’
He took out the picture of the black-and-white snarling dog. He had to agree that it looked like Lara. He examined it closely. Why were CCTV pictures always so grainy? Ben furrowed his brow and looked closer still. He got up from the sofa and went over to the bookcase where Gran kept her magnifying glass. He peered at the photo with it.