The Case of the Missing Cats

by Gareth P. Jones

  Holly clambered on. His back was hard like armour, but as she climbed on she accidentally kicked him in his soft, green underbelly.

  ‘Ow,’ he grumbled. ‘Watch what you’re doing. I’m not a bouncy castle. Hold on tight.’

  Holly squeezed her arms tightly around the dragon’s neck.

  ‘Noh thah tight,’ Dirk said in a strangulated whisper.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Holly, loosening her grip.

  Dirk checked that the coast was clear then pulled the blind up and threw open the window.

  ‘Try not to make any noise,’ he said, leaping out, with Holly clinging on to his back. They landed on the roof across the road from his office and Holly surveyed the rooftops of London.

  ‘Wow,’ she exclaimed loudly in Dirk’s ear, ‘this is brilliant.’

  ‘Be quiet! Do you know what would happen if we were seen?’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said more quietly.

  Dirk leapt to the next roof.

  ‘Would they put you in a zoo?’

  ‘A zoo? Put me in a zoo? I’d like to see them try. Hold on, this is a big one.’

  He soared high into the sky and landed on an office block, scampered along the flat roof and jumped to the next building.

  ‘What would happen if you were seen, then?’ asked Holly.

  ‘Rats. Window cleaners,’ said Dirk, turning and changing direction. ‘We’d better take the long route.’ He leapt to another nearby rooftop and then another. With each jump he stretched out his wings, enabling him to glide to the next building without his footsteps landing so heavily as to be heard below.

  ‘What would happen if you were seen?’ Holly persisted.

  ‘Stay very still,’ he said, coming to a very sudden halt on a rooftop. Before she could ask why, Holly heard a clattering mechanical sound getting louder and louder. A police helicopter flew towards them. She looked down at the dragon and to her surprise saw that Dirk’s red back was the same colour and pattern as the rooftop upon which he was sitting. He was still there, breathing below her, his wings by his side, his eyes, looking furtively ahead, and yet he was, well, roof-coloured. The helicopter flew overhead, unaware of the dragon below.

  ‘I thought you said you couldn’t turn invisible,’ she said.

  ‘That’s not invisible,’ replied Dirk. ‘That’s just blending.’

  ‘How do you do it?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s not that difficult,’ said Dirk, standing up on all fours, returning to his natural colour. ‘You just have to stay very still and think like a roof.’

  ‘But what would have happened if you were seen?’

  ‘If humans knew that dragons existed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  They continued on their journey. ‘There would be a war,’ he said casually, ‘dragons against humans.’

  ‘But dragons are much stronger than humans, surely you’d win.’

  ‘Individually we’re stronger, yes. But humans have weapons that can wipe out entire cities. I may have a tough back, but drop a nuclear bomb on me and see what good it does.’

  Dirk landed heavily on a supermarket roof and Holly let out a small yelp and grabbed his ears tightly.

  ‘Ow!’ said Dirk irritably. ‘Ow and sh!’

  ‘What about Mrs Klingerflim? She knows you’re a dragon.’

  ‘Mrs Klingerflim can’t see further than the end of her own spectacles. Why else would she think you could be my niece?’

  They were winging their way eastward. Holly sat up, relaxing a little. ‘How many dragons are there in London, for example?’ she asked.

  ‘Look, kiddo, it’s bad enough that you’ve seen me. I’m not answering any more questions. I said you can come with me today, then you can let me get back to doing my job.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t think that dragons existed at all until this morning.’

  ‘You never wondered about the Loch Ness monster?’

  Holly gasped. ‘Why? Does it really exist? Is it a dragon?’

  ‘No,’ said Dirk, laughing. ‘There’s nothing in Loch Ness except fish and water.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Holly, disappointed. ‘What about Saint George?’

  ‘You call him Saint George. We just call him George the cold-blooded murderer. He killed a defenceless pregnant mother. Very heroic. Nice guy to choose for your patron saint,’ snapped Dirk angrily.

  ‘I didn’t choose him. Don’t have a go at me,’ she replied.

  ‘Hey, look, if you’ve had enough . . .’ Dirk stopped on a sloping roof. He lowered his body by the chimney top and said, ‘You can get off here and I can go about my business on my own. You run and tell your mummy and daddy that you met a dragon and he told you that the Loch Ness monster is just a rubbish story made up by scared humans. Go on, get off.’

  ‘There’s no need to be like that. I only pointed out you aren’t very friendly, but it’s to be expected, you don’t have much company. Nor do I. Lots of people don’t think I’m very nice either.’

  ‘Don’t you care?’

  ‘Not really,’ replied Holly. ‘I know what I’m really like and if other people can’t be bothered to find out then I can’t be bothered to care what they think.’

  Dirk craned his neck round to look at the girl. She looked stubbornly back at him.

  ‘You’re not like most humans,’ he said. ‘All my clients ever care about is what other people think. They don’t want it getting out that their wives are having affairs or that their business has gone under or that their daughters have run away from home. They want it kept quiet, brushed under the carpet.’

  ‘Well, I just want to know what’s happened to Willow. She’s only a cat and can’t really look after herself.’

  ‘OK, then, let’s find out.’ Dirk stood up and they continued their journey in silence.

  They came to rest on a flat factory rooftop across the road from the warehouse where he had seen the mysterious dragon take the cat. Lying in the yard outside the warehouse was the drainpiping that Dirk had ripped from the wall.

  ‘Are we there?’ asked Holly.

  ‘Yes, get off,’ he replied.

  She clambered off his back and stretched her arms out. ‘You’re not very comfortable.’

  ‘I’m not very friendly, I’m not very comfortable. It’s a wonder you’re here at all.’

  ‘I told you, I . . .’

  ‘Want to find your cat. Yes, yes, yes. Well, this is how we find her. We wait here and watch.’

  ‘OK,’ said Holly and she sat down. ‘What are we watching?’

  ‘That building.’

  For an hour, they stared at the warehouse, but nothing happened. No dragons landed on the roof. Nobody went in or out of the building. Dirk was expecting Holly to moan about being bored. In fact, he was hoping she would. That way he could be shot of her. People always thought detective work was exciting but in reality most of it was like this. Sitting still, watching nothing happen slowly. He glanced at her, but she showed no signs of getting tired. Her eyes stared at the building as unblinkingly as they had an hour ago.

  She caught him looking at her and said, ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Dirk

  Suddenly a loud BANG rang out.

  ‘Get down,’ shouted Dirk, diving on top of Holly, pulling her to the floor.

  ‘Get off,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be stupid. Somebody’s shooting.’

  ‘No, they’re not,’ she said, struggling beneath his heavy belly.

  ‘Listen, kiddo. I’ve been in this business long enough to recognise a gun shot.’

  ‘Then, how do you explain that?’ she said, wrestling herself free and pointing down to the street. Dirk raised his head slowly and cautiously and saw a dirty once-white van, emitting more smoke than an angry Firedrake on a cold day. It rattled unhealthily down the road then with another loud BANG came to a stop outside the barbed-wire surround.

  ‘That was close,’ Holly laughed.

  ‘Very amusing,’ said Dirk, looking very unamused.


  Two men stepped out of either side of the van.

  ‘I think we need a new van, boss,’ said the short, fat man.

  ‘This mode of transportation meets all of the vehicular requirements of our current engagement, vis-à-vis the transportation of undisclosed items from hither and inevitably to thither,’ said the taller man pompously.

  ‘Come again?’The fat man looked perplexed.

  ‘It still works.’

  ‘Oh yeah, right,’ the other man said.

  Holly noticed that Dirk’s ears had pricked up and he was staring intently at the two men.

  ‘Who are they?’ she asked.

  ‘Suspects,’ he replied through gritted teeth.

  Chapter Seven

  The taller man took a key from his pocket and opened the large padlock that kept the gate shut. The shorter, fatter man drove the van into the yard, climbed out and entered the warehouse. He emerged carrying a large and, judging by the redness of his face, very heavy wooden crate, with the words HANDLE WITH CARE printed on the outside.

  ‘Flippin’ ’eck, this is ’eavy, Arthur. What do you suppose they’re all for, anyway?’ asked the short, fat man.

  ‘Ours is not to reason why, Reg. Ours is but to do and die,’ replied the man called Arthur before adding smugly, ‘Shakespeare.’

  Reg dropped the crate into the back of the van, causing the forlorn vehicle to dip unhappily with its new burden.

  ‘I don’t get poetry,’ he said, leaning against the van. ‘I can’t see why people can’t just say what they mean. I mean, a poet will go on about his lady’s eyes, saying they’re like windows or stars or chocolate truffles or something, but really they’re just eyes and if they’re like anything it’s other eyes because they’re all eyes. You can’t change what something is, can you?’

  ‘What a fascinating thesis. Thank you, Reg. Tell me, are you familiar with the word ignoramus?’

  ‘Course,’ said Reg. ‘It’s a big lizard. My uncle Phil had one. But it bit him on the bum, so he shot it. Made a right mess. Aunt Dot weren’t too pleased with him on account of it being a new carpet.’

  ‘That’s an iguana, Reg.’

  ‘Oh right. What’s that you said, then?’

  ‘You, my friend, are an ignoramus. Now shut the doors and let’s go. You know how particular Mr G is about the schedule.’

  ‘You ask me, there’s something funny about Mr G.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to do anything other than lift and drive. Come on.’

  ‘How come we never seen him, then?’ Reg said, slamming the back doors of the van and walking round to the front. The two men climbed in.

  They pulled the doors shut and their voices cut out.

  The van moaned and spluttered reluctantly but eventually the engine turned over. Dirty smoke billowed from the exhaust pipe and the van, the two men and the crate drove away.

  ‘Come on,’ said Dirk, ‘get on.’

  ‘Are we going to follow it?’ asked Holly eagerly.

  ‘Yes. Quickly.’

  She scrambled on to his back and clasped her hands behind his ears. Dirk surveyed the rooftops and, satisfied he had a route, leapt to the next building, and then the next in pursuit of the van.

  They followed the van through the London streets, further east along the River Thames. The smoke and loud banging noises that it produced made it easy to follow from some distance. But as they headed out of London, the buildings were lower and there were fewer of them. The landscape changed from the built-up narrow streets of London to a more sprawling, barren industrial area. A thin sheet of white cloud covered the sky. It was getting cold and Holly wished she had something warmer than her cardigan. She wrapped herself close to Dirk, hoping to steal some of his body heat, but found that his hard, scaly back was not actually very warm at all. And still the van rattled along the road.

  Dirk was making bigger leaps than he had in the city, jumping high into the air and then gliding down towards the next building.

  With a screech of the brakes, the van turned left off the main road and headed down a tree-lined dirt track to the riverside. Dirk’s descent took him on to a rooftop of an old disused church by the road. He came to a sudden halt.

  ‘Why have we stopped?’ asked Holly.

  ‘There aren’t any buildings down there,’ said Dirk, indicating where the van had gone.

  ‘Can’t you use the trees?’

  ‘No, I can’t. I’m a Mountain Dragon, not a Tree Dragon. Trees tend to bend or break when I land on them and there’s not enough cover to fly over.’

  ‘But we can’t see what they’re doing,’ complained Holly.

  The van and the two men were obscured behind the small wooded area, overgrown through neglect, and they were well out of earshot.

  ‘We’ll just have to wait until they move on again,’ replied Dirk. ‘I can’t risk being seen. I’ve told you what would happen.’

  ‘That’s rubbish,’ said Holly.

  Dirk snarled, ‘It’s called being a detective, waiting for the right moment, staying out of sight. Sometimes you just have to be patient.’

  ‘But we might miss something important!’ Holly exclaimed urgently.

  ‘Have you got a better idea?’ snapped Dirk.

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Holly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m small. I’ll sneak up and see what they’re up to.’

  Dirk considered this. He didn’t really want this human any more involved than she already was, but it was true, she was small. And he had to admit that it would be useful to know what those two crooks were up to.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But stay out of sight.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘And don’t let them hear you.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘And be careful crossing the road.’

  ‘Hurry up,’ snapped Holly impatiently. ‘They’re opening the van.’

  ‘OK.’ Dirk surveyed the road. There was nothing coming. There was no one else around. He swooped down to the ground. Holly jumped off his back and he returned to the safety of the roof.

  He watched as Holly looked both ways then crossed the road. She ran up the path towards the van. He strained to see what the two men were doing, but it was no use. Dragon eyesight was good, but not good enough to see through the overgrown trees that swayed lightly in the cold evening breeze. Halfway down the track Holly turned, gave him the thumbs-up and then disappeared off the track into the trees.

  ‘What am I doing letting a human kid help me?’ Dirk asked himself. ‘I must be going soft in the head.’

  Chapter Eight

  Making her way through the undergrowth, Holly approached the van. Her heart beat fast. She felt scared, exhilarated. She could see the men more clearly now, but what with the crunching of the leaves and the snapping twigs beneath her feet it was extremely difficult to move quietly. Luckily the fat man called Reg was moaning loudly enough to cover her as she scuttled forwards.

  ‘This’ll be the fourth crate this week, and they ain’t getting any lighter. I’ll do myself an injury if I’m not careful.’

  Holly dived behind a nearby bush and found a place where she could peel back a branch and watch as well as listen to the two men. She could see the van parked alongside the river, its back doors open. The ground sloped down to where the high-tide river lapped at the muddy bank. A raft bobbed on the river, connected to the shore by a long rope, the other end of which was tied to a wooden post.

  ‘Quit your moaning and haul it in,’ said the man called Arthur, pointing at the raft.

  The fat man grabbed the rope and pulled it towards the shore.

  ‘I mean, it’s not a normal job, is it? I been doin’ this sort of caper for I don’t know how long and I ain’t never had a job like this before.’ He wound the rope around the post as the raft got nearer.

  ‘My advice to you would be to stop worrying about the whys and focus on the remunerative benefits of the assignment,’ said Arthur.

&n
bsp; ‘The what?’

  ‘The money, Reg. The money.’

  ‘Oh, well. The money’s good, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘Good? For the sort of money we’re getting for this job Mr G could ask me to paint myself with black-and-white stripes, dowse myself in tomato ketchup and jump into a cage full of peckish lions. And I would happily oblige, no questions asked.’

  ‘Only you’d probably get me to do it,’ moaned Reg.

  ‘That is the unique and peculiar nature of our partnership, yes, but you have to remember, without me Mr G wouldn’t entrust us with such an important task.’

  The raft was by the riverbank now.

  ‘He says it’s important. You say it’s important. But what’s it important for? I’d rather be doing a good honest bank job or breaking and entering or just breaking. Because at least with those things you understand what you’re doing it for.’

  ‘If understanding is so essential to you I am astonished you do anything at all,’ replied Arthur, with a snide smirk.

  Reg secured the rope round the wooden post, walked over to the van and jumped in the back. The vehicle shuddered under the strain of the man’s bulk.

  ‘Mr G is a very brilliant man,’ said Arthur. ‘Whatever his reasons are I guarantee they are very brilliant.’

  Reg stumbled out of the van, clutching the large crate, his short chubby arms covering the words HANDLE WITH CARE. He stepped on to the muddy ground and instantly lost his footing, staggering forward and dropping the crate, which landed in front of him and slid down towards the water’s edge, dragging the fat man with it. There was a big splash and for a moment Holly thought Reg had fallen in the water. In fact, he had somehow landed with the crate and the top half of his body on the raft, but with his feet still on the edge of the riverbank. His large belly wobbled dangerously over the water between land and raft.

  ‘Oh, bother,’ he said. ‘Can you get the rope and pull me back in, please?’

  ‘Sorry, Reg. No can do. You see, I have a rare but pathological fear of rope. More of a dread than a fear, really. A mortal dread is what I have of rope and all rope matter.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ said Reg, trying not to let the up and down movement of the crate drag him into the river.