by Andrew Cope
PUFFIN BOOKS
Spy Dog and Spy Pups are works of fiction. Andrew Cope wants to make it absolutely clear that the dogs are not based on any animal, living or dead, because that would just be silly*.
If you want Lara or her puppy to visit your school, please email her at [email protected]. They’ll probably have to bring Andrew Cope along too, but don’t let that put you off. Or you can find out more about the Spy Dog and Spy Pups books online at www.spydog451.co.uk, where there are pictures, videos and competitions too!
Books by Andrew Cope
Spy Dog
Spy Dog 2
Spy Dog Unleashed!
Spy Dog Superbrain
Spy Dog Rocket Rider
Spy Pups Treasure Quest
Spy Pups Prison Break
Spy Pups Circus Act
ANDREW COPE
Illustrated by James de la Rue
PUFFIN
For my favourite children
Thanks to:
The Puffin clan. Especially Shannon who’s got the best job title ever!
James de la Rue for such cool pics … again!
Max Lowson for a million and one ideas (shame I have to sit through a million rubbish ones before I get to the one!).
French Tony for the good humour and world-class eyebrows!
Ollie for test marketing the manuscript.
Louise for ideas, patience and encouragement.
Contents
1 Feeding Time
2 Grand Master
3 K9XLR8R
4 Gadgets Galore
5 Resistance is Futile
6 A Man with a Plan
7 Judgement Day
8 The Parade
9 Bat Dog
10 Hot Pursuit
11 Escape Route
12 Balancing Act
13 A Safe Place
14 The Mane Event
15 Bait!
16 The Chase
17 Fresh Meat
18 Meddling Pups
1. Feeding Time
The castle drawbridge was lowered and the car swept into the courtyard. The driver checked himself in the rear-view mirror. He smoothed his eyebrows the best he could and took a deep breath to compose himself. Beside him on the passenger seat was a very important briefcase.
He parked in front of the castle then stepped out of the car and handcuffed the briefcase to his wrist. Then he approached the castle’s huge door and pulled the bell cord. He straightened his tie as he waited.
The door opened and a butler let him into the reception room. No words were necessary. He was led through the drawing room and past portraits and suits of armour. Their footsteps echoed up a winding stone staircase before the men entered a modern white room where a lady was waiting. She cradled a fluffy white cat in her left arm, stroking it with her right hand. The diamond on the cat’s collar gleamed in the sunlight.
The man approached the desk, unlocked the handcuff and put the briefcase on the glass table. A bulky security guard moved to stand by the door and block the exit. The man sat nervously, his eyes darting around the room, which looked completely different to the rest of the castle. But the views were spectacular – rolling hills, brooding moors; they were miles from anywhere. A huge fish tank took up the whole of the left-hand wall, where hundreds of fish darted through the water.
‘Greetings, Tony,’ said the lady, who was also in white, almost invisible against the walls. She stopped stroking the cat and flicked open the briefcase. The gems inside sparkled, but the lady looked disappointed. ‘The deal was supposed to be worth one million,’ she said without emotion.
‘I know, mistress, and I’m sorry. It’s just that, well, times are hard. Business is difficult. The police have been watching us.’
The lady nodded knowingly. ‘But the deal was one million,’ she reminded him. ‘You promised. What am I supposed to think, Tony? That your promises are worthless?’
The man looked at the floor. ‘I need more time,’ he said. ‘One more week. We’ve got a new venue and a new opportunity. It should be a big one.’
The lady nodded to the security guard. ‘Feed the fish,’ she ordered. The muscle man walked to the glass tank. He reached into a bucket, pulled out two raw steaks and threw them into the aquarium. There was a frenzy of action as the fish tore the meat apart. The lady smiled. The cat purred. The man’s face twitched. Mealtime took less than thirty seconds and the tank returned to its tranquil state.
‘Piranhas!’ said the man, sweat breaking out on his top lip.
‘Piranhas, indeed,’ said the lady in white. ‘And they’re still peckish.’
The man gulped. ‘Like I said, one more week.’
The lady smiled a watery smile and her cat purred louder. ‘Imagine how hungry my fish will be in one week, Tony,’ she said. ‘Please don’t let me down.’
2. Grand Master
Professor Cortex mopped his brow. His eyes never left the chessboard as he stuffed his hanky back into his top pocket. He sighed. And nodded knowingly. This was quite a game. He glanced at his opponent and was irritated by her calm exterior.
She’s good, he thought, but she’s only a novice.
The scientist took hold of the queen and slid her on to a new square. He kept his fingers on the chess piece while he ran through his opponent’s next probable move in his head. Once he was confident that his was the right decision, he removed his fingers and looked up. ‘Ha,’ he coughed. ‘What do you make of that?’
His challenger nodded knowingly. This was a big moment. She knew that the professor had never lost a chess match in his life. He’d beaten grand masters from all over the world. He’d even programmed computer chess games and was acknowledged as one of the country’s top chess players. Yet here he was, about to be beaten by a dog.
Lara took her time. This was a moment to savour. Her puppies wagged enthusiastically.
‘What now, Ma?’ whined Spud, his big eyes peering up at her. ‘Has he got you?’
Lara smiled a doggie smile. Certainly not! I’ve got him. She twitched her whiskers and adjusted her spectacles so they were on the end of her long nose. Then she reached a paw towards her queen. Carefully and very precisely she slid the piece across the board and knocked over the opposing piece. Lara’s bullet-holed ear stood proud. Game over, I believe? she thought. Victory for the canine species! Checkmate!
The professor had gone white. ‘But …’ he began. ‘How?’ he spluttered. ‘I mean, where did that move come from? This is chess. I never lose at chess.’
Well, you just have, Prof, smiled Lara. You’ve just been outfoxed by a mutt.
‘Have you won, Ma?’ woofed Star, her tail on wag-factor ten. With her black and white splodges she looked just like a mini version of her mum. They even had the same sticky-up ear.
‘She has,’ yelped Spud, who had the same black coat as his pedigree father. ‘The prof’s lost his first ever game! You’re a genius dog, Ma.’
‘Not genius dog,’ corrected Lara. ‘I’m a Spy Dog.’ She raised an eyebrow and looked at her puppies. ‘Retired!’ Lara stood and offered the professor a paw. He shook graciously. The bewildered old man sank into his comfortable armchair and Lara helped herself to a glass of lime and lemonade. Shaken, not stirred, she thought.
Lara reflected on the last two years. It’s been such a brilliant time, she thought. My career as a spy dog was very exciting. But family life is bliss. Who’d have thought, when I adopted the Cooks, that I’d settle in so quickly. Or so brilliantly! Lara looked at her mentor, Professor Maximus Cortex. I owe him so much, she thought. His accelerated learning programme and home-made brain formula has made me into a super-intelligent canine. And now my puppies are taking it all on board. She gave the professor a huge lem
on and lime lick. Don’t worry, old fella, she wagged. Beginner’s luck! Why don’t we play Monopoly? You always beat me at that.
Lara slurped on her drink and glanced at her puppies. Star had turned her attention to a crossword puzzle, filling in the spaces with a pencil held expertly in her mouth. Her brother was lounging on a beanbag, loading a computer game. Lara looked at his rolls of fat and considered whether she should cut out his afternoon snack. It’s just puppy fat, she decided. He’s got a lot more growing to do yet.
Spud and Star were incredibly proud of their mum. Lara was the world’s first ever spy dog – and their mission was to follow in her paw prints. The puppies were nearly five months old now and desperate for some secret-agent action. Lara wasn’t so keen. She’d given up being ‘Agent GM451’ and was focused on being the best mum she could be. And that means keeping my pups and the Cook family safe.
The spy dog sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. This feels great, she thought. Being a mum is the best thing ever. Family bliss. Oodles of love. Peace and quiet. No more action and adventure for me!
Lara had no idea how wrong she could be.
3. K9XLR8R
Today the dogs had made their monthly visit to Professor Cortex’s Spy School. Although she was retired, Lara thought it was important to keep up to date with new developments. She loved the professor and knew Spud and Star were excited about being spy pups, but she wanted to protect them from danger. I’ll play along, she decided. After all, Lara knew she could never escape from her spy dog past. Enemy agents could still be stalking her, so it paid for them all to be up to speed with the latest the professor had to offer. Better safe than sorry!
The old man hadn’t spoken for an hour. He seemed very deflated by his chess defeat. Star made him a cup of Earl Grey tea. She put it on a tray and carefully walked into the office to present him with his drink. The professor took the cup. ‘Defeated by a dog,’ he said, staring into space.
But not any old dog, wagged Star. She’s the cleverest, coolest dog on the planet. And she’s my mum! She’s caught dozens of baddies and outwitted some very clever crims. So don’t feel bad, old fella. She’s the best of the best.
Just then the door opened and the Cook family burst in. The children tumbled through the door, a trio of enthusiastic smiles. Sophie ran to Star and cuddled her so tightly that her eyes bulged. Steady girl, Star thought, struggling to loosen herself from the iron grip of affection.
Ollie had made a beeline for Spud. The pup sat and shook paws with the youngest child. They were good mates and could often be found playing computer games together. Ollie and Spud had a homework pact. Spud helped Ollie out with his numeracy and, in return, Ollie would do an hour of wrestling practice to hone the dog’s skills.
Ben was the eldest. He made straight for his beloved Lara. The pups were cute, but Lara was his. The Cook family had visited the RSPCA on Ben’s tenth birthday with the aim of adopting a pet. Little did they know that it was Lara who chose them! But the children soon realized she was an extraordinary dog.
‘Sitting on the toilet doing a poo is hardly normal doggie behaviour,’ Ben explained to his brother and sister. The children had kept Lara’s special abilities secret for as long as they could, but a daring car chase through the village had got everything out into the open. A driving dog is a dead giveaway, Ben had thought to himself.
‘How’s your day been, girl?’ he asked, stroking his pet’s head.
Oh, you know, shrugged Lara. Karate lessons, helicopter simulator, weapons training and generally hanging out with the prof. Beat him at chess … that kind of thing.
Ollie noticed Professor Cortex sitting quietly in a chair. ‘How have they been?’ he asked.
‘Extraordinary,’ muttered the professor, staring into space, still in shock after his loss.
Spud and Star almost wagged their tails off. ‘Hear that, sis?’ woofed Spud. ‘We’re extraordinary!’
The puppies were certainly special. Their mum’s genes had been passed down and they were very quick learners. But they’d also had a helping hand. Both dogs had spent most of the day in the learning lab, wired up to the professor’s brand-new ‘Fastbrain K9XLR8R’. This accelerated-learning machine meant they could understand several languages, including English, Chinese, basic cat and horse. Star was ultra-clever. She’d even mastered Siamese cat, the hardest feline dialect of them all.
Spud was more of an adventurer. While his sister was happy to absorb herself in lessons, he wanted to get active. He was always sniffing for action. He was best at practical stuff like sending emails, martial arts and map reading. Star’s brains and Spud’s practical skills made them a formidable team. They’d already had a couple of accidental adventures and were longing for the day when a real spy mission came their way. Unfortunately, their mum didn’t seem quite so keen.
Mr and Mrs Cook wandered into the staffroom. Dad loosened his tie after a long day at work. ‘Good evening, Professor,’ he said. ‘What’s lined up for us tonight?’
The professor struggled out of his armchair and took a deep breath to clear his head. ‘Well,’ he began, ‘I’ve had GM451 and her pups all day. Been putting them through their paces. Intelligence is excellent. Fitness levels are generally good, although this little fella could do with fewer calories per day.’
Spud’s tail drooped. But calories are my favourite thing.
‘But I’ve saved the gadgets and really interesting stuff for this evening. I know the kids like my inventions,’ he smiled, nodding to Ollie, Sophie and Ben. Ollie was beaming. Sophie’s eyes shone and Ben high-fived his sister in excitement. The professor’s inventions were sometimes completely mad and impractical, but always interesting. They even had some at home. Ollie was always using his poocam to spy on next door. And George, the neighbourhood-watch tortoise, was getting very good with his rocket-propelled skateboard. Last week there had been a dramatic rescue when he’d skidded into the canal, but apart from that mishap, he was breaking tortoise land-speed records every day.
‘So what have you got for us, Prof?’ asked Dad, hopping about, as excited as his children. Mum just smiled and rolled her eyes. She was a bit more suspicious of the professor’s inventions and all the trouble he seemed to get the children involved in ‘accidentally’. She was waiting for the day he invented something useful, like an automatic bedroom-tidier.
‘Plenty,’ beamed the professor, rubbing his hands together like a fly. ‘In fact, I’ve got some of the best gadgets ever this month,’ he said. ‘Follow me to the inventing room.’
4. Gadgets Galore
‘Righty-ho,’ began Professor Cortex. ‘Remember, it’s not all about spying. Government cutbacks mean that I’m having to invent everyday items – anything that we can patent that will earn us some money. That’s how my research is funded. Follow me,’ he said, finally regaining his enthusiasm.
Everyone trotted behind the professor as he marched along a corridor to a door marked Inventions Room.
‘Top secret, obviously,’ he reminded them as he pressed his hand against the security pad and his fingerprints were confirmed.
The door swished open and the group entered a little nervously. ‘Let’s start with this,’ said the professor, picking up a blue helmet. ‘Something revolutionary. It’s still experimental, but this one may change the way we live forever!’ He looked at Mr Cook and frowned. ‘Your hair, sir, could do with a trim.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Dad, running his fingers through his thick hair. ‘I just haven’t had time.’
‘Well, luckily for you, I have the perfect solution for busy people such as yourself,’ nodded the professor, tapping the helmet. ‘This is an automatic hair trimmer. I call it the “Haircut 100”.’ He held it out. ‘Fancy a go?’
Dad shied away. ‘I don’t think so, Professor,’ he said. ‘I’d prefer to go to the barber’s.’
Mrs Cook nodded in agreement. She remembered the time the professor claimed to have invented a robotic lawnmower, but instead it had
created a bald patch of soil in the middle of their back garden.
‘But this is cutting edge,’ smiled the professor, proud of his joke. ‘It’s guaranteed to smarten you up. One day, everyone will be getting their hair cut with one of these. It’s got different settings, so we’ll start with something light.’
‘Go on, Dad,’ urged Ben. ‘Be a trailblazer.’
‘Do it, Dad,’ agreed Sophie and Ollie together.
Mrs Cook remained silent.
‘Go for it,’ woofed Spud.
Dad took the blue helmet and looked inside.
‘You can’t see anything,’ said the professor. ‘You place it on your head, press this button on the side to choose your style and away you go. All sorted in less than thirty seconds.’
Dad looked a little more impressed. ‘Thirty seconds, eh?’ he said, mulling it over. ‘I do need a trim. Go on, then.’
‘Yay!’ yapped Star and Spud, excited to see a new gadget in action.
The professor helped fasten the strap. He pointed at the screen in the corner of the room. ‘Which style?’ he asked, clicking through a few pictures.
Dad grimaced as he whizzed through a Mohican, skinhead, Afro and ponytail.
‘That one,’ said Dad suddenly, as a famous James Bond actor appeared on screen. ‘He’s got cool hair and a modern style. I’ll have a Bond look.’
Lara nodded approvingly.
The professor pushed his spectacles back to the bridge of his nose and looked at the remote. In the professor’s world, everyone and everything had a code name. ‘That’s a OO7,’ he muttered, consulting the manual. He tapped a few numbers into the keypad on the side of the helmet. ‘And I’ll set the level to “light trim”. Right – all programmed. We’re good to go. You ready, Mr Cook?’