‘Get in a line!’ Mrs Tucker ordered.
They did as they were told.
‘Hang on to this.’ Badawi passed a rope along the line of frightened humans and showed them how to loop it around their waists. ‘Everyone stay together.’
‘What about the camels?’ Michael cried.
‘They’ll be fine,’ Badawi said. ‘They’ll find shelter. My people will come for them when the storm is finished.’
‘It’s like the time I got caught in Hurricane Haddock!’ Mr Tucker boomed. ‘Only it’s raining sand, not haddock.’
Atticus was at the head of the line. He allowed Mrs Tucker to pass the rope through the handkerchief around his neck. ‘Go on, then, Atticus,’ she said. ‘Show us where to go.’
Atticus led them towards the lake. The sand made it difficult to see where he was going, but his instinct led him on.
‘My notebook!’ From somewhere near the back Inspector Cheddar let out a cry of anguish. ‘It’s blown away.’ He untied himself.
Badawi tried to grab him but Inspector Cheddar had already disappeared in the blizzard of sand.
‘Don’t worry!’ Badawi shouted. ‘I’ll find him. We’ll catch you up!’
The others struggled forward. Eventually they reached the edge of the lake. They started along the tunnel through the water. The wind blew even harder. The sand whipped at their faces and clothes. The water churned either side of them. If it came down on top of them they’d be smashed to pieces.
‘The path through sand and water,’ Mrs Tucker shouted. ‘I wasn’t expecting it to be both at the same time!’
They battled towards the golden staircase. Every step was an effort. Only Atticus seemed unfazed by the wind and the towering water. He barely flinched, padding slowly and patiently so they could keep up with him.
Eventually they reached their goal. Atticus stepped on to the golden staircase. The children scrambled after him with Mrs Cheddar, who quickly untied the rope from around his neck. Mrs Tucker was next. Then Mr Tucker.
‘Phew!’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘That’s better.’
The wind had become still. The blowing sand had disappeared. It was as if they had reached another world.
Atticus stood on the top step looking down.
There was a hullabaloo behind them. One of the Bedouin warriors was shouting something in Arabic. The others joined in. They tumbled on to the golden steps, shouting and pointing.
Michael looked back. His eyes widened in horror. ‘The water’s closing in!’ he screamed.
Inspector Cheddar and Badawi were making their way against the sandstorm through the tunnel of water. Behind them the great columns descended, crashing and churning like an avalanche.
‘They’re not going to make it!’ Callie shrieked.
Atticus turned. As soon as he saw what was happening, he dodged past the humans and sprinted back through the tunnel of water towards the struggling men.
‘Atticus!’ Mrs Cheddar screeched.
Then something amazing happened. The water behind the two men stopped crashing and churning. Instead it began to re-form into columns. The further Atticus went down the tunnel, the further the water receded. By the time he reached Inspector Cheddar and Badawi, the tunnel was safe.
Atticus guided them to the golden staircase where the others were waiting.
‘Darling!’ Mrs Cheddar hugged Inspector Cheddar.
‘Badawi!’ Mrs Tucker hugged Badawi.
‘Warriooorrrs!’ Mr Tucker and the Bedouin warriors hugged one another.
Michael and Callie wanted to hug Atticus, but they both hesitated to pick him up. There was something different about Atticus: something mysterious and powerful.
‘Only the true descendant of Cattypuss the Great has the power to hold back the water,’ Badawi whispered. He knelt in front of Atticus. ‘I thank you.’
‘Er, so do I,’ Inspector Cheddar said rather uncomfortably. ‘Although I wish I’d found my notebook.’ He coughed.
Atticus purred faintly. He was glad he’d been able to save Inspector Cheddar and Badawi, but he felt embarrassed by all the attention. He didn’t like what was happening to him. He didn’t want to have special powers. All Atticus wanted was to be back at number 2 Blossom Crescent with the Cheddars and Mimi, eating sardines and lying in his basket. He wanted to get back to police-catting. He wanted to go to Nellie Smellie’s and make sure the abandoned kittens were staying out of trouble. Being the true descendant of Cattypuss the Great wasn’t his scene, especially as everyone treated him differently as a result. He didn’t want Badawi to kneel before him (although it would still be nice if Inspector Cheddar could do a bit of worshipping). His ears drooped. He wanted a tickle. But no one, not even Callie and Michael, seemed to want to touch him. Instead, everyone just stared. He looked at the floor.
‘Poor Atticus!’
‘He looks miserable!’
‘Do you think he’s missing Mimi?’
To his delight he felt someone scoop him up. It was Michael.
‘You’re still our cat, aren’t you, Atticus?’ Michael asked him anxiously.
Atticus purred throatily.
‘Of course he is.’ Callie gave him a kiss on the nose.
Atticus wriggled a bit so that she could tickle his tummy. His legs dangled in the air. He was beginning to feel a bit better.
‘He’d never leave us,’ Mrs Cheddar said, holding his paw. ‘Would you, Atticus?’
‘’Course he wouldn’t.’ Mr Tucker patted his head.
Mrs Tucker was looking at Atticus thoughtfully. ‘He’d never leave us,’ she said, ‘but that doesn’t mean we might not lose him if we’re not careful. He may be in great danger.’
‘From Klob and Biscuit you mean?’ Michael said.
‘No,’ Mrs Tucker said solemnly. ‘From Cattypuss the Great.’
They began to descend the golden staircase.
The strange thing about it was that although their feet seemed to be taking them down into the earth, their brains told them that they weren’t really going down at all. Instead of getting darker, the further along the staircase they travelled, the lighter it became.
Atticus led the way. The light drew him on. That and knowing that he would soon see Mimi. And something else: a feeling he couldn’t name. Mimi called it instinct. So did Mrs Tucker. But this was more than instinct: it was more than just knowing or remembering things. It was as if something or someone had control of him. It was the same feeling he’d had at Howard Toffly’s crypt the first time he went, when he couldn’t move his paws. It was the same force that had driven him back to the crypt in a trance to rescue the ancient book before the magpies got hold of it. It was the same power that had sent him to the top of the cat’s-head rock formation to lift his paw and reveal the path through sand and water.
Even if Mimi and the Professor hadn’t been in danger, even if he’d wanted to stop and go back, he knew couldn’t. The force was overwhelming. It was taking possession of him.
He padded on. The others followed. On either side of them shimmered a soft golden haze. It was like fog, Atticus thought, except it wasn’t cold or damp. Gradually the haze began to clear. He looked down at his paws. They were standing on a huge golden barge in the middle of the flooded valley. The staircase had disappeared.
He glanced behind. There was no sign of the towering columns of water. There was barely a whisper of wind. And around the lake wasn’t desert, but green palm trees as far as he could see. Behind him on the hill, the same cat’s-head rocks stared down at them. Ahead of him, glowing in the sun, was the golden city of cats.
‘Nebu-Mau!’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘We’ve arrived.’
‘A baaarrrrge!’ Mr Tucker hopped about in glee, making the barge roll from side to side. ‘At laaarrrst!’
‘Stop it, Herman, you’re making us feel sick,’ Mrs Tucker complained.
Mr Tucker broke into a sea shanty. He was thrilled to be back on a boat.
‘The laaarrrst time I was on a lake,
<
br /> I caught meself a giant hake,
It wriggled and it thrashed when I hooked it,
So I bashed it with me wooden leg and cooked it.’
Mrs Tucker glared at him. ‘Very interesting, Herman, I’m sure. Now can we go?’
‘Grab an oaaarrr,’ Mr Tucker commanded. ‘Apart from youze, Atticus. Youze can help me navigate.’
Atticus hopped on to the tiller. The others took the oars.
‘Heave!’ Mr Tucker gave the order.
They heaved.
The barge edged forward.
‘I said “Heave”!’ Mr Tucker shouted.
‘Why don’t you heave?’ Mrs Tucker muttered.
‘Because I’s the captain,’ Mr Tucker bellowed. ‘I’s in charge of this vessel. Now HEAVE or I’ll have to make you walk the plank!’
Soon the barge was skimming through the water.
‘I name this baarrrge The Crafty Camel,’ Mr Tucker said.
Atticus gazed straight ahead. The breeze tickled his whiskers. The sensation was familiar. He’d been here before.
He remembered the flooded valley and the palm trees and the golden haze on the water. He recalled the barge and the cat’s-head rocks. And more than anything, he remembered Nebu-Mau: the golden city of cats. His city. His home. His people.
Atticus shook his head. What was he thinking? This wasn’t his home! Blossom Crescent was. He lived in Littleton-on-Sea, England, not in Nebu-Mau, Western Desert, Egypt. The Cheddars were his people.
He swallowed. It was as if he was getting his wires crossed between two different lives.
They were approaching the harbour.
‘Drop the oars!’ Mr Tucker steered the barge expertly alongside the wooden dock. He jumped out and tied the barge. The others clambered out. Atticus hopped on to the dock. A second barge was moored a few metres away but there was no sign of anyone on board. He looked along the shoreline. There was no one else around. Nebu-Mau seemed completely deserted.
‘Klob’s got to be here somewhere,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Atticus, where’s the tomb?’
Atticus lifted his head. They followed his gaze.
Before them a wide boulevard led through the city from the harbour. On either side of it were rows of magnificent buildings decorated in hieroglyphs. They were like the ones Atticus had seen in Howard Toffly’s crypt. And everywhere you looked there were statues of the cat pharaoh, painted in brown and black stripes, with four white paws and large green eyes. They were statues of him except instead of a red handkerchief he was wearing a blue and green headdress.
‘Atticus!’ Callie whispered.
‘No,’ said Mrs Tucker quickly. ‘It’s not Atticus. It’s Cattypuss the Great.’
‘But …’ Michael started.
‘They’re not the same, Michael.’ Mrs Tucker’s expression was deadly serious. ‘It’s really important you remember that.’
At the end of the boulevard was a pyramid. Even from this distance they could see it was encased in gold.
‘That’s where Klob will be,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘She knows Atticus will come after Mimi. She’ll be holding her prisoner somewhere in the pyramid. You can bet your barnacles. She’ll be lying in wait for us.’
‘So what’s the plan?’ Badawi asked.
‘We’ve going to let her capture us,’ Mrs Tucker said.
‘What?’ Michael shouted.
‘But what about Atticus?’ Callie cried.
‘Biscuit will kill him as soon as he shows them how to get into Cattypuss’s tomb!’ Mrs Cheddar protested.
‘What Klob doesn’t know,’ Mrs Tucker explained patiently, ‘is that Badawi’s here with the warriors. If she thinks she’s captured all of us, she’ll be off her guard. That’s when Badawi and his men strike.’
‘It’s too dangerous,’ Mrs Cheddar said immediately.
Atticus held out his paw. He wanted to let her know that he would do it. He wasn’t afraid of Biscuit. Something told him he could handle him. Or at least that Cattypuss could.
‘Are you sure, Atticus?’ Michael said.
Atticus purred.
Callie hugged him.
‘Now don’t get all sentimental,’ Mrs Tucker said briskly. ‘When I said we’d let Klob capture us, I didn’t say we’d stay captured, did I?’
The children smiled.
‘Don’t youze worry.’ Mr Tucker was chewing his pipe thoughtfully. ‘I’ll make sure those villains rue the day they messed with me beard-jumper.’
Badawi nodded. ‘We’ll hide out nearby. We’ll be ready. And if Atticus does open the tomb, we’ll make sure it’s the Egyptian government that gets the treasure for the nation, not Klob and the Tofflys.’
‘And then Dad can arrest them. Can’t you, Dad?’ Callie said.
There was no reply.
‘Dad?’ Michael looked around.
‘Where’s he gone?’ Mrs Cheddar said, puzzled.
‘I’s dunno. He was here a minute ago,’ Mr Tucker said.
‘For halibut’s sake!’ Mrs Tucker exclaimed. ‘I wish he’d stop disappearing like this.’
‘Maybe he went to see if he could find another notebook,’ Callie suggested. ‘He seems really worried about filing his report for the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth.’
‘He’s a stickler for procedure,’ Mrs Cheddar sighed.
‘Well, he’s not going to find a notebook here, is he?’ said Mrs Tucker, exasperated. ‘We’ll have to find him later. Ready, Badawi?’
Badawi nodded. ‘We’ll meet you at the pyramid.’
Inspector Cheddar was disappointed. Sure, Nebu-Mau was filled with priceless treasure and about a billion statues of a cat that looked a lot like Atticus, but it was very low on notebook shops. In fact, as far as he could tell there was nowhere in this darned place that he could so much as borrow a scrap of paper from. There were no newsagents, no corner shops, no stationers and no book shops. There were no offices or banks or libraries or police stations. Just a lot of empty buildings with funny pictures carved on the walls.
Inspector Cheddar was just wondering how he was going to explain to the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth why he hadn’t kept a log of the investigation when he heard a noise.
Squeak … squeak … squeak.
He listened hard.
Squeak … squeak … squeak.
A man in a white djellaba and a turban appeared from around a corner. He was pushing a small cart full of melons. ‘Need help?’ he asked.
Inspector Cheddar nodded. ‘Can you please tell me where I can buy a notebook? It’s very urgent.’
‘Vill papyrus do?’ The man offloaded a few melons. At the bottom of the cart was a box full of papyrus scrolls.
‘I’ll have the lot!’ Inspector Cheddar grabbed the box. ‘You got any biros?’
‘Qvill pens only,’ the man said.
‘I’ll take ten,’ Inspector Cheddar said.
The man counted out ten quill pens and handed them to the Inspector. ‘That vill be vun thousand Egyptian pounds.’
‘What? That’s daylight robbery!’ Inspector Cheddar complained. He got ready to haggle. ‘I’ll give you fifty pence.’
‘Forget it.’
‘Okay, a pound.’
‘Nope.’
Inspector Cheddar emptied his pockets. He only had a bit of change. He hadn’t brought much money with him: there wasn’t much to buy in the desert.
The man was watching him closely. ‘Don’t vaste my time,’ he said nastily. ‘Give me back my papyrus and my qvill pens.’
‘No. You don’t understand. I’m a policeman,’ Inspector Cheddar admitted in desperation. ‘I have to file a report to the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth.’
The papyrus seller looked interested. ‘Really? Vot about?’
Inspector Cheddar looked around to make sure they weren’t being overheard. ‘I’m on the trail of a vicious criminal. Her name’s Klob. She’s a mistress of disguise. You haven’t seen her, have you?’ he asked hopefully.
The papyrus seller sho
ok his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Vot does she look like?’
Inspector Cheddar pulled a horrible face. ‘She’s an ugly bruiser.’
The papyrus seller frowned. ‘Ugly?’
‘Hideous.’ Inspector Cheddar nodded. ‘She’s got a face like a camel’s bum.’
The papyrus seller went red. ‘How dare you insult a lady like that!’ he shouted.
‘She’s not a lady, she’s a disgusting old hag,’ Inspector Cheddar protested. ‘Trust me. I’d rather kiss a warthog.’
The papyrus seller frothed at the mouth. He reached under his turban. ‘You’ve done it now!’ He produced a fistful of sharp-looking pins.
Inspector Cheddar realised his mistake. ‘Miss Klob!’ he gasped. ‘I didn’t mean it. You’ve got a face to sink a thousand ships.’
‘The saying is launch a thousand ships, not sink them, you vally. And it’s Ms, not Miss,’ Zenia Klob shouted.
ZIP!
The first hairpin struck Inspector Cheddar in the neck. He folded to the ground.
‘Vun dose of sleeping potion is not enough for you!’ Zenia Klob screeched.
ZIP! ZIP! ZIP! ZIP! ZIP!
The other hairpins struck him in the chest, the leg, the arm, and one in each bum cheek.
Zenia Klob shook her fist at Inspector Cheddar’s sleeping form. ‘Ven you vake up – IF you vake up – you von’t have a clue who you are.’ She gave him a kick with the steel toe of her boot. ‘Biscuit!’
Ginger Biscuit appeared from behind a building.
‘Put him somewhere no one vill find him. A dungeon if possible. Full of spiders.’
‘RRRRRRRR.’ Ginger Biscuit took hold of Inspector Cheddar’s foot with his front paws and dragged him into one of the buildings. After a few minutes he re-emerged covered in cobwebs.
‘Good boy.’ Zenia Klob gave him a beetle to chew. ‘That vos a piece of luck getting Cheddar out of the vay. Now ve can go back to the pyramid and lie in vait for Atticus and the rest of his pals.’
Ginger Biscuit slouched back to the pyramid feeling murderous. Chewing a beetle didn’t make his temper any better. Despite the lure of treasure, despite the pyramid of gold, despite even the fact that Zenia had promised him he could kill the magpies and roast them for dinner, he HATED the lost city of Nebu-Mau. He DESPISED the golden city of cats. It wasn’t the golden city of cats anyway. That was the problem. It was the golden city of CAT. And that cat wasn’t him. It was Cattypuss the Great.
Atticus Claw Lends a Paw Page 9