Spy Cat

by Peg Kehret

  “Get out of the van!” Pete said. “I don’t trust them. Run, Benjie! Run away from them!”

  It was too late. As Benjie extended his hands toward Pete, the bearded man shoved him, knocking him sideways to the floor between the two seats.

  As Benjie tried to scramble back onto the seat, the bearded man got in and closed the door. The man shoved him down. “Stay where you are,” he said, “and don’t make any noise.”

  Pete reached the top of the bike and jumped to the back of the driver’s seat. The driver’s door was wide open. Pete could easily have catapulted out and landed on the driveway by the tall man’s feet, but he didn’t do it. He couldn’t jump to safety until Benjie was out of the van.

  The tall man reached in and tried to grab Pete.

  Pete hissed and slashed at the man’s hand with his claws. “I’m staying with Benjie,” he said. “He needs me to protect him.”

  The tall man drew his hand back. “This cat is a savage,” he said. “He probably has rabies.”

  Pete jumped to the floor beside Benjie. He arched his back and puffed his fur out as far as he could. He gave his most ferocious growl. “Lay a hand on Benjie,” he roared, “and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  Benjie reached for the door handle, with his other hand on Pete. “I have him now,” he said. “He’ll let me carry him out.”

  The bearded man opened his door. He reached down and tried to pick Pete up.

  Pete bit the bearded man in the leg, but he got mostly a mouthful of the man’s jeans. As his teeth sank into fabric, the tall man grabbed him from behind. The hand closed on the back of Pete’s neck and yanked so hard that a clump of fur came out.

  Pete clamped his teeth tight on the man’s pants and dug in with his claws, but the jeans tore and Pete was lifted across the steering wheel toward the open door, with a piece of denim in his mouth and his four paws dangling helplessly downward.

  “Get out, Benjie!” he howled. “Run!”

  The tall man held Pete at arm’s length for a second. Then he flung the cat as hard as he could throw. Pete landed in the gravel behind the van and lay still.

  Benjie struggled to get up, to see what the tall man had done with Pete, but the bearded one put his hands on Benjie’s shoulders and held the boy on the floor next to his boots.

  “Don’t move,” he said.

  The tall man slid behind the steering wheel, slammed his door shut, and started the engine. The van careened out the end of the Kendrills’ driveway and sped up Valley View Drive, with Benjie on the floor between the two burglars.

  “Stay by my feet,” the bearded man said as he held Benjie down with both hands. “Don’t make any noise.”

  The will to fight drained out of Benjie as he realized he couldn’t get away. He collapsed by the man’s shoes like a piece of cooked spaghetti and lay there, crying quietly. Some spy he was. Not only had he failed to alert the police, he had let the bad guys trick him into getting in their van.

  I never should have blurted out that I knew they were crooks, Benjie thought. If I hadn’t done that, they might have given Pete to me and driven away. Then I could have called the police. A good spy keeps his mouth shut, but I blabbed everything I knew to the wrong people.

  At least I saved Pete, Benjie thought. I did that one thing right.

  From a hazy corner of his mind, Pete heard the van drive away. He lay in the gravel, too sore to get up. The fur was scraped off one ear where he had slid on it when he landed, and his head throbbed. He hoped he didn’t have any broken bones.

  Pete flexed one leg at a time. All four still moved. He slowly sat up, then licked one front paw and dabbed carefully at the scraped ear, washing off the blood.

  He had to stop those men. He had to free Benjie. But how? There was no use running after the van. He would never catch it.

  He had to get help. He must let the people know where Benjie was.

  Alex would be home soon, but Pete couldn’t wait. Benjie needed help right away.

  Pete had not yet met Mary’s grandmother, but he knew that Benjie and Alex liked the older woman. If they liked her, Pete knew he would like her, too, and he was sure she would help.

  He was too sore to run, but he walked as fast as he could toward Mrs. Sunburg’s house. Maybe he could get her to follow him home, where she would notice that items were missing from the house.

  * * *

  Mrs. Sunburg finished her coffee, dialed the Kendrills’ number again, and got the answering machine. This time she left a message.

  “Benjie, are you there? It’s Mrs. Sunburg. If you’re home, pick up the phone.” Nothing happened.

  She put on a sweater and turned off the coffeemaker.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes, Rufus,” she said. “I’m going over to Benjie’s house.” Locking the door behind her, she left the house and started toward the Kendrills’.

  She was partway there when a big white-and-brown cat trotted toward her, yowling loudly. The cat’s eyes looked wildly from one place to the next, and his long dark tail thrashed like a whip. His left ear was bleeding, and he looked as if he had been rolling in the mud. Although the rest of his fur was thick, there was a bald spot the size of a half-dollar on the back of his neck.

  “Gracious, kitty,” Mrs. Sunburg said. “What happened to you?”

  “They took Benjie!” Pete said. “They pushed him in the van and drove away!”

  Pete hurried partway toward his own driveway, to show her where the van had been, then turned and went back to her. It still hurt to run, but Pete repeated the circle as quickly as he could, to convince Mrs. Sunburg how urgent the matter was. “Benjie needs help!” he cried as he trotted back and forth. “Those men took Benjie.”

  “Are you Alex’s cat?” Mrs. Sunburg wondered. “Did Benjie go home and you got out and got in a catfight and now he’s looking for you?”

  “He isn’t looking for me, but we need to look for him.” Oh, it was so frustrating that the people couldn’t understand anything Pete said. Pete had often wondered why the schools didn’t offer classes in “Cat as a Second Language” so that humans would be able to converse as intelligently as the rest of the animal world does.

  Mrs. Sunburg started toward the Kendrills’ house again. “Benjie?” she called. “Are you here?”

  “How could he be here?” Pete said. “I told you: two thugs took him away in a van.”

  Mrs. Sunburg reached the front of the house and saw a mess in the driveway. It looked as if someone had emptied their car’s litter bag. How could people be so inconsiderate? Shaking her head, Mrs. Sunburg picked up an empty milk carton, candy wrappers, a cigarette package, and several pieces of paper.

  “Don’t do that,” Pete said. “The burglars threw that trash there; it might be important evidence.”

  Mrs. Sunburg stuffed all the garbage into a discarded white paper bag from a fast-food restaurant. Then she knocked on the door. There was no answer. This is very strange, she thought. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. She walked around to the back door and knocked there. The house remained quiet.

  The cat wasn’t quiet, though. Clearly something had frightened the poor creature.

  She knocked one last time, rapping loudly with her fist.

  Pete stood beside her on his hind legs. With his front paws, he clawed at the door, hoping she would open it. If she went inside, she would see that burglars had been here, and she would call the police.

  If Pete could get in the house, maybe he could find some clue that would help the people find Benjie.

  It’s going to be up to me, Pete thought. I’m the only one who knows what happened to Benjie. Since the humans can’t understand what I tell them, I’ll have to show them.

  How could he show them? He wished he knew where to start.

  When there was no response to her knock, Mrs. Sunburg tried the doorknob, but it didn’t turn.

  “I’m sorry, kitty,” she said. “I know you want to go in, but the door is locked.�
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  “Look in the window,” Pete said.

  Thoroughly worried now, Mrs. Sunburg headed back home. As she passed the Kendrills’ garbage can, she lifted the lid and dropped the bag of litter inside.

  “You’re tampering with evidence,” Pete said. “They won’t find it there.”

  Mrs. Kendrill had left a phone number where she could be reached.

  I should have come over sooner, Mrs. Sunburg thought.

  Why was one of the cats outside? From the way he had tried to get into their house, she was certain this cat who kept yowling and running around her belonged to the Kendrills.

  Feeling as if her thoughts were going in circles like the cat, Mrs. Sunburg found the number Mrs. Kendrill had given her.

  “I need to speak to Anita Kendrill,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, she left a few minutes ago.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Do you know if she was going straight home?”

  “I wouldn’t know that. I can give you her home number, if you like.”

  “I already have it,” Mrs. Sunburg said. “Thanks anyway.” She hung up, then looked at the clock. Mary would be home in about ten minutes, which meant Alex would be home then, too. Mrs. Kendrill might be here even sooner. Once the Kendrills got home, they could look for Benjie inside. Had he let himself in, then fallen and hurt himself? If so, wouldn’t he have called out when she knocked? Should she wait until Alex or his mother arrived to do anything more?

  The cat now sat outside her back door, yowling mournfully. The cut on his ear didn’t seem deep enough to cause such distress, and although he was dirty, he was able to move around. Something else was wrong.

  She wondered if the cat might have been hit by a car and had some internal injury. She knelt beside him. Putting one hand on each side of Pete, she probed gently. He let her touch him without flinching, but he trembled as if he was in shock.

  The cat’s behavior convinced Mrs. Sunburg that he had seen something bad. But what?

  If only animals could talk, Mrs. Sunburg thought. She would love to know what that cat was saying.

  Mrs. Sunburg decided not to wait for Alex or his mother to get home. She picked up the phone and called the police.

  12

  I want to report a missing person,” Mrs. Sunburg said. “A little boy.”

  “How long has he been gone?”

  “He was supposed to come to my house after school, at three o’clock, and I was watching for him, but he never came.”

  “You aren’t his mother, then?”

  “No, I’m a neighbor.”

  “Have you contacted the boy’s parents?”

  “I tried to call his mother, but I can’t reach her. I don’t know where Benjie’s father works, so I can’t call him. You need to send an officer out here right away. Something bad has happened to Benjie, I know it. Even his cat is acting spooked.”

  “His cat?”

  “Yes, the cat’s not supposed to be outside, but he is, and Benjie’s not here.”

  “I tell you what, ma’am,” the officer said. “Why don’t you wait until you’ve talked to one of the boy’s parents, and then, if they don’t know where the child is, they can call and give me more details.”

  “You already have the only detail you need,” Mrs. Sunburg said. “Benjie is missing!”

  “People often think a child is missing, but it almost always turns out to be a misunderstanding. Perhaps the boy went home from school with a friend. Maybe he missed the school bus, and he’s waiting in the school office for someone to pick him up. Maybe he forgot that he was supposed to go to your house today, and he’s off riding his bike somewhere. Maybe he was daydreaming or reading a book on the bus and didn’t get off at his stop, and now he’s walking home. Believe me, these things happen all the time.”

  “I’m sure they do,” Mrs. Sunburg said.

  “I suggest you call the boy’s school, to see if he’s still there. If he isn’t, wait until you’ve talked with his parents before you panic. He’s only forty-five minutes late; that isn’t long enough to assume he’s missing. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  Mrs. Sunburg was not reassured. If Benjie had gone home with a friend or had missed his stop on the bus route or was sitting in the school office, who had let the cat out? Still she felt she had no choice but to do what the officer suggested.

  She called the school next.

  “This is Ruth Sunburg, Mary’s grandmother,” she told the secretary who answered. Then she explained about Benjie and asked if he was still at school.

  “He isn’t here in the office,” the secretary said. “If you’ll hold, I’ll check with his teacher.”

  A few minutes later, the secretary came back on the line. “Benjie’s teacher says he boarded the school bus, as always,” she said. “She personally was the first-grade bus monitor today, and she knows that no student missed the bus.”

  “Do you have a phone number for Benjie’s father?” Mrs. Sunburg asked. “His mother gave me a number, but when I called she had already left her meeting. I don’t know how to reach Mr. Kendrill.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to give out personal phone numbers.”

  “This is an emergency,” Mrs. Sunburg said. “I don’t know where Benjie is, and I’m afraid something has happened to him.”

  “Well. . .” The woman hesitated. “The rules about personal information were made clear when I took this job.”

  “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Mrs. Sunburg said. “Perhaps I could speak to the principal.”

  “Hold on, please. I’ll connect you.”

  When the principal answered, Mrs. Sunburg quickly explained the situation.

  “I can’t give you Mr. Kendrill’s number,” the principal said, “but I will call him immediately and ask him to call you.”

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Sunburg hung up and waited for the phone to ring. She hoped the principal could reach Mr. Kendrill. Too much time was being wasted while she tried to notify someone that Benjie wasn’t here. Although she agreed that private phone numbers should not be given out willy-nilly, she thought there were times when common sense was more important than rules, and this was one of those times.

  She kept looking out the window, hoping to see Benjie, but all she saw was the brown-and-white cat. The cat was still yowling and running back and forth through the trees between the Kendrills’ property and her own. Whatever that cat had seen, it had certainly upset him.

  Pete’s throat hurt from yelling so much, and it hadn’t done one bit of good. I might as well save my breath, he thought. Mary’s grandmother had paid attention to him only long enough to be sure he wasn’t seriously hurt. No matter how many times he told her about Benjie, she never figured out what he was saying. If only people were as clever as cats.

  Pete wished he had some water. Those french fries had been too salty.

  Since he wasn’t doing any good at Mary’s house, he plodded back to his own house. His right front leg ached where he had landed on it when the man threw him out of the van. Pete favored the leg, causing him to limp.

  He sniffed the front steps. He could tell where the burglars had walked. He sniffed some more around the spot where they had parked the van.

  He followed the truck’s smell halfway down the driveway, where he picked up the smell of the men again.

  This is where they stopped, Pete knew. This is where the tall one caught me and threw me into the gravel. Pete’s head and leg still throbbed where he had landed.

  Benjie’s scent was there, too. This is where Benjie had stood when he knocked on the window.

  Pete’s tail drooped down until the tip dragged in the gravel. I’m a failure as a spy cat, he thought. Instead of protecting Benjie, I sat in the van gobbling up cold hamburger. Now Benjie’s life is in danger and I don’t know how to help him.

  Exhausted, Pete laid down in the grass beside the driveway and fell asleep.

&n
bsp; * * *

  Alex got off the school bus at Rocky’s corner rather than riding all the way to his own stop. The boys talked awhile, making plans to get together as soon as they finished their homework.

  Then Rocky went toward his house, and Alex walked home by himself.

  “Alex!”

  Alex saw Mary running toward him. She had ridden the bus home, too, but had gone on to her own stop when Alex got off with Rocky.

  “Benjie didn’t come to my house after school,” Mary said. “He was supposed to go straight there when he got off the bus, but he never arrived.”

  Alex walked faster, and Mary fell into step beside him.

  “Gramma tried to call your parents and can’t reach either of them, and nobody answers the phone or the door at your house. She called the school, too, and Benjie’s teacher said he got on the bus.”

  “He probably forgot that he was supposed to go to your house,” Alex said. “Maybe he went home and got his spy backpack, and now he’s in his secret spy place.”

  Pete woke up when Alex and Mary approached. He stood and hobbled toward them. “Benjie’s been kidnapped,” he called. “Two men took him away in a van!”

  “Pete!” Alex said. “What are you doing outside?”

  “He’s limping,” Mary said. “He’s been hurt.”

  Alex picked Pete up and examined him. “His ear’s cut,” he told Mary, “and he’s all dirty on one side. There’s a bare spot on his neck, where the fur is missing.”

  “Never mind me,” Pete said. “Benjie needs help.”

  Alex carried Pete around to the kitchen door. While Alex hurried to the garage and got the key that was hidden there, Mary knelt beside Pete and rubbed her fingers gently up and down his body, checking for unseen injuries.

  Pete held still, enjoying the gentle massage.

  Alex unlocked the door, stepped inside, and stopped, looking at the throw rug inside the door. “These are Benjie’s school shoes,” he said. “He came home.”

  “Thank goodness,” Mary said.

  “He’s going to be in a heap of trouble when Mom and Dad find out he didn’t go to your house when he was supposed to,” Alex said. “Hey, Benjie! Where are you?”