by Andrew Cope
Shakespeare dug his claws into the ivy and climbed up the wall of Huntingdon Hall. He’d removed his Lycra suit, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention, hiding it in a flowerpot in case he needed it again later. The puss crept in through one of the upstairs windows and dropped silently to the floor. He slinked his way out on to a very long carpeted landing. The spy cat cocked his head and listened. Faint voices. Downstairs. He padded silently down the winding staircase, back arched, ready to fight or flee.
Shakespeare’s whiskers twitched and he darted behind a suit of armour, sensing someone was coming.
After a moment, Gloria tentatively poked her head out of a side room and looked both ways before quietly scurrying towards the front door and slipping out. Strange, mused the cat. But then again it’s hardly surprising that baddies are up to no good.
The cat reached the last stair and looked around at the vast trophy room. The stag’s head dominated the wall above the fireplace, with a rack of guns in a cabinet to the side. And stuffed animals everywhere!
He silently jumped up on to one of the huge tables to take a closer look. A badger, perfectly animated. A fox, growling, its sharp teeth preserved for evermore. Stuffing animals? It’s a weird thing for humans to do, but they sure do it well.
Shakespeare was startled as he heard a door slam and footsteps clip down the corridor. He glanced around. The door is opening and there is nowhere to hide!
Mr Big, Gus and Archie burst into the room. Shakespeare tried to stay calm. He recalled his spy training: A good agent thinks on his paws and blends into the background. Shakespeare stood still, one paw raised, with what he hoped was a neutral look on his face. Blending in, he thought, means I have to look like a stuffed animal. It’s a high-risk strategy but hiding right under their noses is my only chance!
Shakespeare’s ears were cocked. His eyes were fixed straight ahead but he was straining to watch out of the corners. One thing is for sure. Mr Big is very angry.
The evil man clicked a remote at the huge TV screen. ‘Three guys down,’ he cursed to Archie and Gus. ‘Two of the idiots seem to have shot each other. And Ronnie is stranded on the island. Look at the idiot. He’s had to climb a tree to escape the croc!’
The statuesque cat stifled a laugh. Sounds like Lara and the pups are doing OK.
‘Gloria is out there somewhere but I don’t fancy her chances. Those dratted dogs are working as a team. And her being such a girl and all that.’
Lara won’t like that comment! Go, spy dogs! thought Shakespeare, daring to blink.
‘And that gibbering ape is on the loose too,’ Gus reminded them. ‘So what’s the plan, Boss?’ he asked, thumping his fist into his other hand. ‘Shall I do what I do best?’
‘Eventually,’ smiled Lara’s arch-enemy, calming down a little. ‘But first of all I’ll do what I do best. I’ll devise a deadly plan.’
Shakespeare’s body stayed rigid but he dared to move his eyes. Gus was wandering towards the table. Yikes! The cat’s expression froze and he tried to stand especially still, one paw raised, staring into the distance. Spy Cat needs to look stuffed.
Shakespeare could smell that Mr Big had lit a cigar. Gus was standing right next to the table. He’s examining the stuffed animals! Stay away, you idiot. Otherwise you’ll be the next to get stuffed!
Gus had picked up the preserved raven next to Shakespeare. He gazed closely and ruffled its black feathers.
‘So what’s the deadly plan, Boss?’ he said, replacing the bird and turning his attention to the ginger cat. ‘This puss is amaaaazing,’ he cooed, moving so close that Shakespeare could smell his kebab breath. ‘So lifelike!’
The cat’s eyes were achingly dry and he was desperate to blink. His heart was thumping but he didn’t dare breathe.
‘The plan is this,’ snapped Mr Big, removing the dart from his gun. Gus turned his attention to the plan and the statuesque mog snatched a breath and blinked. He moved his head slightly to get a view of the men.
‘As you know, we issued the hunters with sleeping darts. So although they think they’ve taken out these exotic animals, they’ve actually put them to sleep,’ explained the baddie. ‘At the end of the safari the hunters move on, the animals wake up and we throw them into a cage to use again next year. Of course one or two of them might not actually wake up, but so what? We’ve got plenty – we can afford to lose a few.’
‘We love that, Boss. Double-crossing at its best. You sure is evil,’ slathered the big buffoon.
Mr Big inhaled deeply, the end of his cigar glowing with pleasure. He loved compliments. He puffed the smoke into Gus’s face. Shakespeare shuddered as Mr Big took a tin from his jacket pocket and inserted a new dart.
A black one …
‘Special darts for the blithering monkey and our dog squad,’ he said, shaking the tin.
‘Special?’ asked Gus.
‘Deadly poison,’ smirked Mr Big. ‘It’s time for the monkey to be silenced once and for all, and for Spy Dog to finally DIE, DOG!’
19. Closing In
The police had contacted all the taxi firms in the area and, sure enough, A2B taxis had taken a booking to drive a boy 150 miles north. The driver was questioned and the final destination discovered. The Scottish police had been alerted and things were moving swiftly.
The Cooks were being given a very fast police escort. Mum was crouched behind the wheel of the people carrier with a look of steely determination. Dad and the silent children were on their way north.It was a stormy afternoon and the windscreen wipers worked a double shift as the car sped towards the Scottish border. It was darkening. Mum’s face matched the weather.
Mr Big had explained that if a job needs doing it needs doing now. The weather had closed in as Mr Big, Gus and Archie strode out into the night. They were dressed in bright yellow heavy-duty weatherproof hats and coats, and each had a powerful torch. Mr Big had a rifle but the others couldn’t be trusted. Archie had a baseball bat and Gus his fists. The rain lashed down and lightning occasionally illuminated the sky.
Lara had been very firm when hiding Professor Cortex in the garage. She’d held her paw up in front of his face – ‘STAY,’ she’d woofed. ‘We’re going to catch the baddies. You just stay hidden.’
She couldn’t have been clearer but the professor hated staying put. He’d used a screwdriver to remove his superglued gorilla head and was wandering around in the rain when the torch lit him up.
‘Is that you, GM451?’ he asked, squinting into the light.
The professor complained very loudly as his arm was shoved up his back. ‘That jolly well hurts,’ he said. ‘And this gorilla suit is wet and heavy. Look here, Big, I know we’ve had our differences over the years but I’m sure there’s some good in you somewhere. Let’s go back to your office and work this whole thing out. I’m appealing to your nicer side.’
Mr Big laughed so loudly that his smoker’s cough revved up. Rain ran down his face as he spat something black and gooey at the ground.
‘This side is evil,’ he snarled, pointing to his left side. ‘And this side is even more evil. There is no niceness and you, monkey man, are bait. Gus, hold him.’
Gus took over, the professor crying out in pain as his arm was yanked even higher up his furry back.
‘Spy Dog!’ bellowed Mr Big, shining his torch into the darkness. ‘We have the professor. Show yourself or it’s curtains for Cortex!’
Shakespeare knew he’d only get one shot. He perched himself on the windowsill and remembered the paintballing exercise. Mr Big had walked three metres from the professor. Archie was with him, with Gus taking up the rear. The beams of their torches were reaching into the darkness, illuminating a torrent of raindrops.
The cat squinted through the sights. He’d taken the opportunity to grab one of the rifles from the trophy room and was struggling to get to grips with it.
The trick is to miss the professor and shoot Gus! Keep still, chaps, thought the cat.
Shakespeare wait
ed for the right moment, his fur soaked through to his bony body. I hate rain! He eased his paw on the trigger and the red dart hissed from the rifle. Gus fell to the floor with a splash, the rain beating against his body. The professor looked around.
Run, old man, run! urged the cat, and the professor did exactly that, half man, half gorilla disappearing into the blackness.
20. A Shocker!
Mr Big looked from the rapidly disappearing professor to the prostrate body of Gus and back again. He was keen to hunt Lara down but nothing was more important to him than saving his own skin. Someone was firing at him! He decided to cut his losses.
Archie was driving the golf buggy and Big was in the passenger seat, black-darted rifle pointing ahead. The rain was still slashing down. Lara saw the headlights heading for the exit. No way, we can’t let him escape! Adrenaline pumped through her body and she left the pups trailing. It was a long and windy road and she’d calculated that she could cut the buggy off if she went cross-country. Lara arrived just ahead of the vehicle, standing tall, blocking the road. The buggy sped round the corner on two wheels. The headlights caught sight of Lara’s white patches and swerved, skidding into a ditch and causing Archie to hit his head. Mr Big cursed as he disentangled himself from the wreckage. Torch in one hand and rifle in the other, he turned to face the spy dog.
Shakespeare was soaked to his skin. He was tired and hungry but neither was an excuse to slow down. This is a mission! And I’m in the middle of it! He chased the buggy and watched it career off the road. ‘Noooo!’ he yowled as he saw Lara caught in the torchlight. Mr Big was pointing the rifle at his beloved spy dog. A black dart. No way!
Shakespeare’s body ached with tiredness but he kept running. Lara growled and edged forward.
Mr Big growled and stepped back. ‘Poison dart, poochie!’ he yelled into the rain. ‘Especially for you.’
Lara bared her teeth and growled, unsure what to do. I’m a spy dog and I’m quick. But not as quick as a poison dart! Her thinking was cut short by the rifle shot. The black-tipped dart embedded itself in Lara’s chest. She leapt at the man, in one final effort, determined to leave her mark. His torch fell to the ground and Mr Big screamed as Lara sank her teeth into his leg.
And then it went quiet.
After a pause the man stood and rolled the lifeless dog away with his foot.
‘Heel.’
Shakespeare yowled as he watched Lara fall.
Mr Big looked to the heavens, rain lashing into his eyes. He howled at the clouds, victorious, as lightning ripped the sky. He was the crack shot! The sound of whirring rotor blades signalled the celebrations would have to wait, however.
Mr Big turned and ran like a wounded animal. He knew the fence was near. He was a clever man. He knew that if he could escape he could set up another evil empire somewhere far away. With the dog gone, everything would be a lot easier from now on. So the police helicopter was a bit of a downer. Big’s torch was gone so he stumbled blindly through the darkness, Shakespeare tracking him. The police searchlight swept over them. Shakespeare waved but the light kept moving. Mr Big stopped to catch his breath. He stood under a tree, trying to escape from the downpour and the prying light of the helicopter. Shakespeare extended his claws and bounded up the tree.
Big was weighing up his options when, all of a sudden, he heard a terrifying yowl and a furry Fury fell from the heavens. Shakespeare had just enough energy to hang on to the man’s face, wrapping his legs round the back of his head like a ginger octopuss. The man couldn’t breathe. He tore wildly at the cat, pulling at lumps of ginger fur, but Shakespeare held on, his claws sinking into the skin behind the baddie’s ears. After a few seconds of struggle Mr Big managed to pull the cat away and threw him to the ground. Shakespeare was winded but he righted himself, arched his back and hissed at the man. He swished his tail, his white teeth gleaming in the rain.
‘You’ve killed my beloved Lara,’ hissed the puss.
‘A cat?’ smiled the man, dabbing the scratches behind his ears and looking a little relieved and somewhat amused. ‘A bedraggled, flea-ridden moggie,’ he laughed, the noise drowned out by a clap of thunder.
‘Not any old cat,’ hissed Shakespeare. ‘A spy cat. Trained by the best, on missions to catch the worst. And you, Big, are the lowest of the low.’
Shakespeare weighed up the situation. The man has no gun, but he’s picked up a baseball bat. There was a brief spark as the electric fence lit up. So we’re near the perimeter. The cat noticed that the helicopter searchlight was coming back his way. My best course of action is to keep the baddie here until the searchlight falls on him.
The cat hissed again. The helicopter came closer, the trees blowing wildly under its rotor blades. Mr Big stepped back, baseball bat swinging. The noise was confusing. The fence buzzed again as the rain hammered down. The cat stepped forward, tail swishing and every piece of fur standing on end.
‘You’ve killed Lara!’
‘You’re just a cat!’ yelled Mr Big, remembering the professor’s shouting from yesterday about a ‘spy cat’.
Shakespeare saw doubt in his eyes and took strength. The rain was coming down even harder now.
‘I am not just a cat!’ he yowled into the darkness.
Shakespeare was overcome with grief. He was cold, wet and scared. He let it all out in the biggest caterwaul of anger he’d ever managed.
Mr Big looked terrified. He stepped back and the fence buzzed. The helicopter blades were chopping the air and it was raining confusion.
Shakespeare let out another yowl, this time a big cat roar. The helicopter’s light illuminated the man as he stepped back too far. DANGER OF DEATH! Shakespeare shielded his eyes with his paw. The evil man was in for a nasty shock.
Electricity, rain and baddies don’t mix.
21. A Cat’s Life
‘You were amazing,’ said Sophie, stroking Shakespeare’s ginger fur and trying to avoid the bald patches. ‘I mean, you didn’t know there was a lion behind you when you had him trapped.’
I did think I’d done a rather large roar, smiled the family cat. I guess it proves you don’t have to be a big cat to have a big cat roar! I have to say, it’s the most amazing mission I’ve ever been involved in and it was most certainly a team effort.
Mum just tutted. She’d been in the police helicopter and had seen the final showdown. The doctor had given her some pills that had helped calm her nerves afterwards, and now she sat in the chair, rocking gently, not really with it.
Lara was also a bit groggy, her eyelids at half mast. ‘And for once, the pups and I were just minor players. This, Agent Cat, was very much your mission. We put you in charge of Mission Control and you ended up taking control!’
‘A team effort,’ he reminded them. ‘And Gloria helped,’ admitted the puss, purring with delight as Sophie tickled the top of his head.
‘What’s happened to the hunters?’ asked Sophie.
Professor Cortex was looking pleased – not only to be out of the gorilla suit but also at the capture of the villains. He eyed Mum nervously, dreading what would happen when she came off the pills. ‘All’s well that ends well,’ he said, daring to sound perky. ‘That horrible American man is behind bars. Well, he will be as soon as he gets out of the hospital. That croc sure took some chunks out of his ankles. He and the sheik and the banker are all charged with “hunting endangered species”. I mean, you can’t just go around shooting pandas and suchlike.’
‘And Gloria?’ asked Ben. ‘If I understand it right, she was a goodie?’
‘Posing as a baddie,’ nodded Professor Cortex. ‘As we now know, Gloria is an undercover reporter for the New York Post. She posed as a wealthy heiress to gain an invite to Big’s evil safari. She was a great help. Gloria was working on the inside, gathering evidence. She’s got herself quite a story!’
‘And she rescued me,’ Ben reminded the prof. ‘She was going for help. Picked me up from the side of the road in that terrible storm.’ He sneezed to
demonstrate the point.
‘Gloria’s into animal rights,’ smiled Sophie. ‘I mean, aren’t we all?’ she said, squeezing her beloved ginger cat so hard that his green eyes bulged.
Yes, and this animal’s got the right to be squeezed slightly less tightly, he thought.
‘She’s a very clever lady,’ noted the professor. ‘And extremely brave. She noticed the thefts, tracked them to Huntingdon Hall and then took a huge risk posing as one of the hunters. If it wasn’t for Gloria switching Mr Big’s darts, GM451 would be more than a little sleepy.’
‘She made sure those black darts were actually only sleeping darts. Otherwise Lara would never have woken up,’ shuddered Ben, patting his pet.
The professor’s chest was swelling with pride. ‘Gus and Archie are locked up, awaiting trial on all sorts of charges. The list of offences is as long as your arm. And, let me tell you, Archie has very long arms. All the animals have been safely returned to their homes – and some of them showed some genuine spy potential, I must say!’
The children chuckled, wondering how an undercover elephant might fit in.
‘And the mastermind himself?’ asked Ben. ‘Lara’s arch-enemy? Lord Large, or rather, Mr Big?’
‘Well, it seems he’s going to be all right. Third-degree burns to his back and legs so he’s pretty well bandaged from head to foot.’
‘That leccy fence must have been a bit of a shock,’ beamed Ollie, not realizing how perfect his words were. ‘I bet he’s in lots of pain,’ he added, a little too enthusiastically.
‘Oh, plenty of pain,’ smiled the professor, also a little too enthusiastically.
Lara and the pups couldn’t resist wagging.
Good job Mr Big’s behind bars, purred Shakespeare. The cat cast his gleaming green eyes around the lounge. Mum wasn’t in the best of shape but, rule number one, the children are safe and well. My beloved Lara is sleepy but alive. The pups are wagging. And best of all, I’m being stroked by the most wonderful girl in the world. He purred loudly as his mind ran through the adventure. I started with a coordinating role and ended in a life-saving role. I jumped from a pram dangling from a plane. I wore a special superhero suit. I shot Gus and I helped capture Big. He hoped he’d done enough to be included in the next mission.