by Andrew Cope
The final parachute went through the gap and Spud’s back legs and tail disappeared just as the searchlight fell on the manhole cover.
‘What’s that?’ asked the guard from the watchtower. ‘Some movement in no-man’s-land. At that manhole.’
‘Where?’ asked his mate, pointing his binoculars towards it.
As the searchlight swept away, Spud and Star pushed up their heads and heaved the manhole cover closed above them.
‘Looked like a small animal. Back legs disappeared down the hole,’ said the guard.
‘Oh,’ laughed his mate. ‘I thought you’d seen someone escaping.’ They watched as the searchlight went back over the manhole. It was shut tight. ‘Looks fine over there. Warn me if you see something getting out,’ he said, ‘but breaking into this place would be just plain stupid. Besides, that manhole leads to the sewer. You’d have to be crazy to go down there.’
The two crazy spy puppies crouched in the tunnel. ‘Close one!’ woofed Spud. ‘But don’t worry, sis,’ he reassured, ‘that’s the hard part done with.’
Star was trembling with fear. The tunnel was eerie but certainly safer than jumping from an aeroplane. ‘Let wag-power shine the way,’ she said. They were grateful for the professor’s inventions. Sometimes things didn’t work out but the wag-powered torches, attached to their helmets, were one of his better ideas.
Star managed a shaky wag and her torch lit up the tunnel. Spud’s confident wag doubled the brightness and they scanned the area.
‘Phooey,’ woofed Star, ‘what a stink.’
The pups checked each other’s backpacks. The professor needed one of these delivered to Mr Big as a matter of urgency. If they failed, their mum would die. The puppies turned and began to trot towards the main prison building.
‘No time to waste,’ reminded Star. ‘We have to be in place by nine.’
13. Biscuit Brains
Mr Big got back to his cell and thought about what the children had said. There must be a code in there somewhere, he thought, replaying the encounter in his mind. He flicked on the kettle and made a cup of Earl Grey tea. Being the scariest prisoner had a few perks, like the guards ignoring some of his luxuries.
He glanced at the packet of biscuits. Maybe it was them? Surely the children weren’t stupid enough to think he would eat biscuits, not after he’d used poisoned custard creams to disable the dog. ‘If you eat them all at once, it’ll spell trouble,’ he said aloud. Mr Big opened the packet and took a biscuit. ‘Spell trouble?’ He checked it closely and saw it had a letter etched in it. ‘P,’ he said, quickly opening the packet and turning all the biscuits over to reveal letters. ‘It’s like Scrabble.’
The door opened and Archie scampered into the cell, closely followed by the lumbering frame of Gus, both back from breakfast. Mr Big flicked on the kettle again and made two more cups, this time of builder’s tea.
‘Biscuits,’ exclaimed Gus, stuffing a custard cream into his mouth.
Mr Big turned, spilling hot tea on his leg. ‘Stop that, you idiot!’ he yelled, grabbing Gus’s mouth and yanking it open. ‘They’re coded biscuits. Don’t swallow!’ he instructed as Gus choked up the half-eaten custard cream.
‘Too late, boss,’ he coughed. ‘But I only scoffed one. You’ve still got plenty left,’ he pointed, hoping he would be forgiven.
Mr Big pieced the soggy biscuit back together. ‘Looks like a “g” – or a “6”. Let’s hope you’ve not eaten a vital part of the clue,’ raged Mr Big, rearranging the biscuits into alphabetical order. ‘I’ve just had a visit from some horrible brats who are part of our escape plan. They gave me these coded biscuits. We just need to work out the message. And one of the blighters gave me a nasty nip,’ he said, showing the teeth marks to his cellmates.
‘Ouch,’ soothed Archie.
Mr Big hated being bitten. He remembered his first encounter with that dratted spy dog. She’d chased him through a forest and sunk her teeth into his backside. Then she’d held on until the police arrived. The criminal felt his bottom, gingerly running his fingers over the teeth marks. Children and dogs, he shivered. Yuck!
Archie was busy spelling words with the biscuits. ‘Nineteen biccies, boss,’ he said. ‘Twenty counting the one Gus scoffed.’
Mr Big glared and the hulking man looked down at his feet.
‘Some letters, symbols and numbers,’ Archie added.
Archie and Mr Big sipped their tea while Gus paced up and down like an expectant father. He was an old-fashioned criminal – short on brains but heavy on brawn. He couldn’t spell ‘punch’ but he could throw one all right.
Twenty minutes later they’d agreed on the message. ‘What does it say?’ asked Gus, peering at the table.
‘Gym then showers at 9.30 p.m.,’ growled Mr Big.
‘Or showers then gym at 9.30 p.m.,’ added Archie stupidly. ‘But I think the boss is right.’
Mr Big checked his watch. ‘It’s ten a.m. Get your kit ready, boys,’ he purred. ‘You look like you need a workout.’
The professor had ordered a Secret Service van kitted out with the latest spy technology. He watched as the dots moved towards the centre of the screen. ‘They’re making good headway,’ he nodded to himself.
Lara was asleep on the sofabed. He was pleased to see her tummy rising as she breathed in and out but was concerned that her chest was rattling.
The scientist put a stethoscope to the sleeping dog’s chest. ‘Her condition is worsening by the minute,’ he said gravely. ‘I just hope we can pull this off in time.’
Star and Spud paddled through the tunnel. ‘Not pleasant,’ yapped Star, trying not to think of what she was treading in. Both puppies’ tails were on full wag, their torches cutting through the eerie blackness.
‘Come in, agents,’ said a voice in Star’s ear. ‘Are you receiving?’
Star gave a single bark for ‘yes’.
‘Excellent,’ said the professor. ‘Are you at the junction yet?’
Two woofs.
‘OK,’ said the professor, pointing to the red dots on the screen. ‘We see you. Fifty metres ahead, you take the left tunnel. Then upwards to the grille. Then wait. He should be there at half nine.’
Someone flushed a toilet in the prison and a surge of water swelled towards the puppies. ‘Poo alert!’ woofed Spud as he scrambled to the side, avoiding the smelly water. Star was too slow and the tidal wave hit her head on, drenching her in sewage.
‘Sorry, sis,’ he woofed, holding a paw and hauling her out of the sludge.
It was a horrible ordeal. But definitely not as horrible as what their mum was going through. They simply couldn’t let her die without trying to save her. Even if it meant carrying out one of the professor’s most harebrained plans yet.
Star shook her body and carried on walking.
14. Gym’ll Fix It
The prison guard sat nervously outside the governor’s office. He felt like a naughty schoolchild waiting to be summoned by the head teacher. He flicked through a copy of Prison Monthly until eventually the sign on the door went green and he knocked gingerly.
‘Come,’ bellowed a voice from within. The prison guard entered the huge office. The governor was leaning back in a leather chair, hands clasped in front of his chest.
‘Wilcox,’ he beamed, standing to greet the officer. ‘How good of you to see me.’
Wilcox managed a watery smile before perching on a chair. ‘Good of you to invite me, sir,’ he stammered. He’d worked at the prison for thirteen years and had never met the governor before.
‘As you know, Wilcox, nobody’s ever escaped from this prison.’
‘Yes, sir,’ agreed the officer. ‘Although a few have tried,’ he smiled.
‘And failed,’ finished the governor with a satisfied grin. ‘My next promotion rests on us continuing that outstanding record,’ he nodded. ‘Which is why I want you to tell me about Big.’
‘Big, sir?’
‘Yes, Big, sir,’ agreed the governor. ‘I
’m hearing strange noises on the grapevine.’
‘Strange noises, sir? Well, he did hand a laptop in the other day, sir,’ volunteered the officer. ‘Which is kind of unusual for a thug of his stature.’
The governor cocked his head on one side and put his hands together as if praying.
‘And he had some visitors this morning, sir,’ continued Wilcox, gaining in confidence. ‘His first ones ever.’
‘And who were they?’ enquired the governor, deep in concentration.
‘His kids, sir,’ nodded the guard.
‘His kids, sir,’ nodded the chief. ‘Interesting. What if I was to tell you, Wilcox, that Big doesn’t have any children?’
The guard’s eyes widened. ‘But there were three of them, sir. Brought him some biscuits and everything.’
The prison governor was paid to be calm. ‘Something’s going on, Wilcox,’ he soothed. ‘I would like our friend Mr Big brought here to chat to me, please.’
‘Of course, sir. When?’
‘Right now!’ spat the governor, his anger spilling over.
‘Yes, sir,’ said the guard. ‘I saw him heading for the gym. I’ll go and get him right away.’
Mr Big hated the gym. He did a bit of cycling while Archie scampered on the treadmill and Gus lifted huge weights. At 9.25 he picked up his towel and headed for the changing room.
‘What now, boss?’ asked Gus as the three men sat down and waited. He pulled off his sweaty socks and began to get changed back into his prison uniform.
Mr Big scanned the room. There was a shower area and hundreds of lockers. He wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do. ‘The biscuit code said be here at half nine. We wait.’
In the corner of the room Spud peered out from a vent at the base of the lockers. ‘Not sure which one he is,’ whined the puppy to his sister. ‘The prof never had time to show us a picture.’
‘There’s only one way to recognize him,’ reminded Star. ‘Remember what Mum told us? About biting his bottom. Find the bloke with the scarred bum and we have our man.’
The puppies waited patiently. They watched as men came and went. A huge man took off his socks and Star nearly fainted. ‘Phooey,’ she whispered as the cheesy smell wafted across the changing room. His pants came down and they examined his bottom. ‘No teeth marks.’
A man with film-star features wandered into the shower, with a towel round him, so neither puppy could get a decent look at his rump. There was more waiting as the man stopped to look in every mirror before he showered and dried himself. It was now 9.45.
‘It has to be him,’ whined Spud. The man lowered his towel and turned to put his pants on. ‘Hairy bottom,’ woofed Spud, ‘with teeth marks! Bingo! That’s our target.’ He pushed against the vent cover and the puppies emerged from their hiding place.
‘Let’s go, bro!’ woofed Star.
‘Boss, there’s a d-dog,’ pointed Archie as the pair of pups scampered across the tiled floor.
Mr Big grinned. ‘Pooches,’ he growled. ‘So good to see you. You must be related to Spy Dog. Tell me, little mutts, how is your dear old ma?’ The criminal reached into a locker and pulled out a small bottle containing the antidote. He grinned, and waved it in front of the puppies.
Spud bared his teeth in his fiercest growl. ‘How do you think she is, you evil man! My sister and I hate you for what you’ve done. Sure, we’re going to help you escape but once we’ve got the antidote, you can be sure we’ll come after you.’
‘What’s the plan, little pooches?’ asked Mr Big, pulling on his prison clothes and securing the bottle in his jacket pocket.
Star shrugged off her backpack and hurled it at the man. ‘In there,’ she growled. ‘Every-thing you need, including instructions. Read it. Do it. We’re breaking you out of here tonight.’
The changing-room door opened and in walked two prison officers. They scanned the room, looking for Mr Big.
‘Yikes!’ whined Spud, hiding behind Archie’s hairy legs.
One of the guards spotted Mr Big. ‘The governor wants to see you,’ he shouted. ‘Pronto.’
Star and Spud sprinted for their escape route. ‘Job done. Back down to the sewer, sis,’ yapped Spud as he squeezed through the vent and shoved his sister down towards the drain.
15. The Twits
The prison governor beckoned Mr Big into his office. ‘Good of me to see you,’ he smiled. ‘Take a seat.’
The evil criminal sat gingerly. He placed the small backpack on his knee, clutching it tightly. He wasn’t sure what was in the bag but he knew it was crucial to his escape. ‘What’s all this about, sir?’ asked Mr Big in his best innocent voice. He was calm on the outside but could feel panic bubbling on the inside.
‘You tell me, Big,’ snapped the governor. ‘First we have the laptop episode – your first ever good deed. Then we have your first ever visit. By children you don’t even have. And now your first ever trip to the gym.’
The men stared at each other until the prison boss blinked. ‘That’s a lot of firsts,’ he concluded.
‘New leaf, sir,’ lied Mr Big. ‘I’ve learnt from my mistakes,’ he continued, delivering another whopper.
The governor looked at the backpack. The criminal was gripping it so tightly that his knuckles were white. Something wasn’t right. ‘You know escape is impossible,’ noted the boss. ‘Four have tried,’ he said, eyeing the backpack, ‘and four have died.’
‘I’d be a fool to even try,’ agreed Mr Big.
‘Quite. So what’s in the bag?’ enquired the governor, holding out his hand.
Mr Big pulled the bag closer, his knuckles clenched. He was so close to freedom. If the governor peeped in at his escape kit he was doomed.
‘Gym kit, sir,’ he replied, delivering his third lie in less than a minute.
‘Then you won’t mind if I take a look,’ soothed the prison governor.
Mr Big’s face twitched. A million things ran through his mind, including the fact that very soon the governor might be the fifth one to die. ‘You can look in the bag if you want to,’ said the criminal. ‘But I’d strongly advise that you don’t.’
‘And why not?’ asked the prison boss, taking the backpack and unzipping it.
‘Because it could be bad for your health,’ snarled the criminal in his first honest remark of the conversation. Mr Big was breathing heavily. The bag was wide open and he could see some grey material inside. And a note.
The governor raised his head and stared at Mr Big. ‘My health?’ he frowned. ‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Not exactly, sir,’ stammered the criminal, his bravado turning to simmering panic. ‘I mean, the bag contains my sweaty gym kit. Including socks,’ he said. ‘And Gus’s pants,’ he blurted. ‘Used!’
The governor winced. This was a serious health warning. Both men jumped as the phone rang and the governor took an urgent call. Mr Big breathed a sigh of relief as he was shooed away, grabbing the pups’ backpack on the way.
Archie and Gus got to work on the sheets, tying them together to make a rope. Mr Big shook the bars on the window. ‘Loose,’ he smiled. ‘The prof’s formula is working a treat.’ He squirted a few more drops at the bars and stood back as the metal fizzed. He wafted away the fumes as Gus pulled at a bar.
Gus’s gold teeth glinted in the moonlight as the bar came away in his hands. After ten minutes the bars were history. Mr Big had consulted the instructions several times. One bar was left intact and the sheet rope tied to it. Mr Big checked the instructions once more and then folded the note and placed it securely in his pocket.
‘What does it say, boss?’ whined Gus.
‘Top secret,’ he said. ‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you,’ he added truthfully. ‘And you can’t read anyway, remember? All you need to know is that Archie’s first out, then you. We just have to wait for the signal.’
‘What’s the signal?’ asked Gus, punching the wall in preparation for fighting the guards later on.
‘That
,’ said Mr Big, cupping his ear. ‘Right on cue.’
The men strained to listen. Below in the yard came the sound of three puppy barks.
The yapping stopped and Archie was first down the sheet rope. He swung effortlessly, as if he were half man, half monkey. Once he’d landed in the yard he pulled three times on the home-made rope.
‘Me next?’ asked Gus.
Just as he was about to nod, Mr Big noticed a searchlight sweeping towards them. If the white sheets were left dangling they’d be discovered! He hauled at the rope, pulling it upwards as fast as he could.
Gus spotted the light too and together they yanked the sheets through the window and ducked from view just as the beam scanned their cell. Neither criminal breathed for a minute.
Mr Big peered out again to check that the light was gone, and threw the makeshift rope out. Gus tugged on it and looked down. If Archie was a monkey, Gus was a silverback gorilla. He looked unsure.
‘Go on, Gussy,’ soothed Mr Big. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’
Gus took a deep breath and climbed out of the window. He held on to the sheets and lowered himself down. But when he was halfway, there was a ripping sound. Mr Big heard a ‘Yikes!’ and then a big rip and heavy thud as the man hit the dirt floor. There was some scuffling as Archie and Gus sank into the shadows, Gus whimpering about his broken ankle.
‘Shush, you idiots,’ hissed Mr Big from above. Then he hauled the remaining sheets back into the cell. Now he had no chance of escape. Luckily, he wasn’t scheduled to go down the rope anyway. He checked the note once more.
Mr Big pulled the bits from the puppy backpack and slipped off his prison uniform. He pulled on the slate-grey clothes and applied the grey face pack and hairspray. Then he slipped the antidote into his top pocket. He checked the mirror and smiled. ‘Slate grey from head to foot. I look like one of those human statues,’ he grinned. ‘But now for the difficult part.’