by Andrew Cope
Lara wasn’t so convinced. She pulled it over her ears and checked out her reflection in the full-size mirror. The ear that always stuck up stayed true to form and popped out. Lara grimaced. I’m supposed to be the world’s Number-one Spy Dog! Blending in to my surroundings? I’m not sure this will help me to stay ‘undercover’.
Undeterred, the professor moved on to his next invention – which Lara noticed looked a lot like her bike.
‘An exact replica of your bicycle,’ he continued, ‘except for one small detail.’
The prof straddled the red BMX and began weaving around the room erratically, struggling to pedal while remaining sat on the seat. Lara barked and mimicked standing while holding imaginary handlebars. Try standing up, Professor; it’s much easier.
The professor did as Lara had instructed, and no longer looked quite so wobbly. Just as the Spy Dog thought she was going to have to run alongside him like she did when teaching Ollie how to ride, Professor Cortex pulled a wheelie before taking off from the ground altogether. He circled the room a couple of times, before gradually stopping pedalling and returning to the floor with a gentle squeeze of the rear brake. WOW! Now that’s more like it …
‘I’m rather proud of this one, GM451,’ the professor enthused. ‘The air in the tyres has been replaced by hyper-compressed helium; squeeze the end of the handlebars for a dose of “big air”!’
Lara was grinning from ear to ear. Wait till Ollie sees this!
Back at the Cooks’ house, Ben looked like he needed some cheering up. After falling out with his sister, they were only communicating by text. That is, until he ran out of credit. Ben lay back on his bed and looked at the ceiling. The rain carried on hammering against his window. Sophie was sat playing on the rug in her room. Ollie was trying his best to amuse himself. He was currently scaling an imaginary rock face after first wading through a rushing river in order to escape from a gang of cowboys in hot pursuit. His bedroom certainly looked wild.
Mum and Dad sat in the lounge, channel hopping. The children could hear Dad grumbling about the ‘stupid weather man, always getting it wrong’ and ‘How could the whole of Britain be enjoying its best summer in fifty years, except this town?’
The front door opened, and Spud and Star returned empty-handed. After they’d explained what had happened in the supermarket, no one felt in the mood for chicken soup any more. The dark cloud hanging over the town seemed to be getting bigger – and darker. Even the rain seemed to be getting wetter.
Professor Cortex clearly thought that he’d saved the best of his gadgets until last.
‘It’s often the simple ideas that work best,’ he chirped.
Lara wasn’t so sure. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t convinced by the rainbow beanie, but the professor’s ‘extendable sticky lead’ was perhaps a step too far.
‘I’ve even sold the idea to NASA,’ the professor explained. ‘You know, for spacewalks and suchlike. The technology is based on fly’s feet. And aphids. Although the effect is more “Spiderman”. This doggie lead is made of a special stretchy substance – I’ll spare you the details, GM451 – with sticky stuff on the end. So it stretches and sticks.’
Lara’s raised eyebrows indicated that she was struggling to keep up, so the professor tried again.
‘Have you noticed that flies can walk on windows? That’s because they have special hairy feet. Well, I say “hairy”, they’re actually cilia. Microscopic protrusions. Here’s one, magnified of course,’ he gabbled, sweeping his hand towards a PowerPoint slide that was beamed on to the wall.
Lara nodded encouragingly.
‘That’s my girl, GM451. I used the idea to create synthetic fibres that exactly match their cilia. The result? See this doggie lead?’ The professor took the lead and swung it like a lasso, before letting go of one end. The lead stretched as far as the far wall, where the other end stuck. The white-coated scientist beamed. He pulled hard. ‘Fixed tight. Genius or what, GM451? Imagine swinging around like that Spider chappie! Whoosh, whoosh,’ he enthused, waving his arms like a maniac.
Lara took the end of the stretchy lead and gave it a firm tug. I’m a dog, not a spider, she thought. I can’t really see a need. But even ‘retired’ Spy Dogs should always be prepared!
The toilet elevator came to a halt with a gentle ping. Lara found herself staring at the inside of the portable loo once more. She reached for the door handle and paused, her mind registering the ‘engaged’ sign. She was to find one of Soop’s delivery lorries and follow it – wherever it went.
My mission is simple. Find him and stop him.
She pawed her new ‘smart’ tag. The professor had assured her that help would be close at hand.
8. The Delivery
Dad was singing in the shower again. He couldn’t get the new chicken-soup jingle out of his head. ‘Soop’s soup. Picks you up when you’re feeling down …’
Mum was standing at the door, yelling at him to stop.
‘Put a sock in it! It’s depressing enough with this awful weather,’ she said, banging on the door. ‘Your singing’s so bad, I think you might be causing it.’
The Cook household was not a happy place.
Thunder rumbled across the sky. Ken Soop stood outside his chicken empire, rocking back and forth on his heels, arms clasped behind his back. Soop was thinking. The Cloud Maker was working better than he had hoped. There were miserable people all over town. People feeling down were flocking to the supermarkets looking for something to pick them up, to make them feel better. Tins of Ken Soop’s Chicken Soup were flying off the shelves.
His master plan was to create clouds over the next town and the next town, until the whole country was depressed. But there was a problem: sales were soaring and he was running out of chicken stock. The old man had already doubled the amount of pepper in the chicken’s feed, but even with the extra sneezing they weren’t producing enough. No: he needed to make more soup and he needed to keep the rain falling. He needed more chickens and he hoped Mr Dewitt could ‘Dewitt’.
The ancient man’s white hair blew wildly in the wind. Young Kenneth was relying on him and he wasn’t about to let him down. No one knew more about chickens than he did. The farm sheepdogs had put up a brave fight but the sheer size of Mr Heinz and Mr Campbell meant it was no contest. Two hundred and thirty-five hens were secured in the back of the wagon. The old man couldn’t remember the address of Kenneth’s factory so it had been written down for him. His frail hands gripped the steering wheel and he leant forward into a driving position, his faltering eyes squinting through the windscreen. The lorry eased away. It was only thirty miles to the factory, but at twenty-three miles per hour it was a long haul.
The last of the trolleys had been unloaded from the back of the truck. The pimply teenager stopped for a minute and rubbed the base of his aching back. He looked up at the tinted windows of the cab and wondered about its occupant.
Most of the delivery drivers would at least acknowledge you, some would even give you a hand. Ken Soop’s lorries were different. They just drove in and parked while you emptied the trailer, before driving off again. Most unfriendly. Not a word, or even a wave. The boy shrugged and turned to make his way back into the store.
Ken Soop turned the ignition and the truck rumbled into life like a dragon awakening. His spidery fingers turned the steering wheel as the vast transporter exited the loading bay. A spindle of snot seeped from his nose almost in slow motion. As he pulled out on to the main road, the other cars kept a wary distance, not wanting to argue with a forty-ton truck. Soop was bigger than every other vehicle on the road. He also considered himself better. He was in charge. He was in control. And he intended to make sure people knew it. The dastardly man decided to have some fun on his return journey.
On the hill overlooking the loading bay, Lara snapped the chinstrap of her helmet before kicking off and careering down the slope. She needed to keep close, but not too close; it was important that Soop didn’t
know he was being followed and try to escape. And then we’ll see about cheering things up a bit, thought Lara, wiping the rain from her eyes with the back of her paw.
The lorry was gathering speed down the main high street, and had just shot straight through a red light, narrowly avoiding a mobility scooter.
Whoa! This guy’s not going to stop for anyone! I need to slow him down a little.
Lara peddled furiously, taking a short cut across the park and using the see-saw as a handy ramp to hurdle the fence before rejoining the main road.
Ken Soop put his foot down, the lorry accelerating around a corner, tyres squealing. The evil man howled in delight and turned on the radio; heavy metal – power felt good! Weaving from side to side, he sent a wheelie bin flying and splashed a cyclist.
Lara needed to think fast and pedal even faster. If I don’t do something to put the brakes on, then someone’s going to get seriously hurt. But if I stop him completely then there’s no chance of finding out whoever’s behind this whole miserable business … She felt helpless to know what to do. Almost a little deflated … Hmmm …
Lara had to carry out her plan before the lorry had left town, otherwise it would be too late. She was only going to get one shot at this. The truck turned right and Lara turned left, pedalling for all she was worth. While she couldn’t match the lorry for speed, she knew all the short cuts.
Lara was starting to puff hard, and the wind was whistling through the hole in her ear. Phew … I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up. Maybe I should just face it – I’m getting too old for all this. Maybe my Spy Dog days are over. I’m a has-been! Wait a minute …
Lara slammed on the brakes and the BMX screeched to a halt. She stared into space, the wind and rain driving into her eyes. She blinked and shook her head, wondering if she had really been considering giving up. The rain carried on pouring down, soaking her fur through and through. She looked at the ever-present black cloud looming above the town. Has-been … been … beanie. That’s it! The rain is making me feel miserable! I need the professor’s woolly hat!
Lara quickly rummaged in the pocket under her saddle and pulled out the rainbow-coloured beanie. No time to remove my bike helmet. She pulled it over the top of her cycle hat, giving her something of a ‘rasta-dog’ appearance. Smiling once more, Lara set off, determined to slow the lorry down. The storm cloud had made her feel down – but she certainly wasn’t out!
On the edge of town was a long straight road, which Lara knew the lorry would have to take; the only alternative would mean taking a road over a small humpback bridge and that would risk getting the lorry stuck. After a couple more bends and several hairy cross-country detours, Lara saw that her hunch had been right. The truck was at the other end of the road, heading straight in her direction. Good; there’s no other traffic on the road – at least no one else is in any danger.
In the distance, Ken Soop spotted a scruffy-looking patchwork mongrel, parked up on a bike in the middle of the road. He frowned; a mutt on a bike was odd enough. But it appeared to be wearing some sort of … tea cosy. No matter – he pressed his boot flat to the floor, the truck gathering speed. The mutt would soon be dust. Lara stared at the approaching truck, unflinching, before racing directly towards it. Soop’s eyes widened, unsure what to make of it all. Of course, in this game of chicken there was only going to be one winner. He wiped the back of his hand across his dribbly nose and hunched over the wheel as the gap closed.
Lara was concentrating. She had to get this right – or else. The gap grew less and less, neither bike nor truck deviating from the collision course. Lara braced herself; this lady was not for turning.
Soop started to sweat, a bead of perspiration forming on his brow. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. The bike was getting closer and closer now; he could see the whites of Lara’s eyes. At the point of impact Soop shut his eyes and flinched, waiting to hear the crunch.
9. Under Pressure
Lara had waited until the last possible moment before squeezing the handlebars. The helium exploded into her tyres, giving her instant ‘big air’. She missed the onrushing truck by millimetres, her rear wheel brushing the roof of the cab. Lara pulled her left brake sharply, landing skilfully on the roof of the trailer, her rear wheel skidding around in a one hundred and eighty degree arc to face the direction in which they were travelling.
Phew – that was close!
She gathered herself for a moment, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.
Soop opened his eyes, a little embarrassed that he’d closed them in the first place. The dog had seemingly vanished into thin air. It was nowhere to be seen. Soop shook his head and looked at the clock on the dashboard. He wondered if he’d been on the road for too long and was starting to imagine things. He assumed the dog would be squashed, a black and white rug in the middle of the road.
Meanwhile, Lara had attached one end of her sticky dog lead to the roof of the trailer and expertly abseiled down to dangle over the wheel arches.
Using the titanium clasp from her dog collar, she severed the valve and gently released some of the air from the huge tyres. Not too much now … just enough to slow this thing down to a safe speed. She hoped that Soop wouldn’t spot her in the side mirrors. With a snap of her wrist, the lead retracted to return her to the roof. Now for the other side …
Lara descended the opposite side of the truck in one perfectly judged leap, positioning herself next to the barrelling wheels. Steady does it, just need to let a little air out. All of a sudden, Lara’s dangling silhouette was illuminated by the dazzling headlights of an onrushing truck coming from the opposite direction. Cat litter! If I don’t do something fast, I’m dog meat!
Planting her feet on the edge of the wheel rim, Lara bent her knees and took a deep breath. The horrified oncoming driver spotted her and pulled his horn, blaring a loud warning.
Focus, Lara. Clear your mind.
She closed her eyes for a brief second, meditating and drawing inner strength.
Just as the lorry was almost upon her, Lara snapped open her eyes and pushed off from the side of the trailer. She sailed over the top of the truck just in time, narrowly avoiding a messy collision, before swinging back to resume her position by the wheel arch. Phew! That was close! Lara let out a sigh of relief, before letting out a little more air from the tyres. She could sense that the truck was already slowing down, and the journey might be a little safer from now on. Another flick of the wrist and Lara’s lead retracted her to the relative safety of the top of the lorry.
Now it’s just a case of sitting tight and waiting.
As Lara and the truck disappeared over the horizon, her silver ‘smart’ tag rolled to a halt at the side of the road. Broken off in all the commotion, the tracking device was tracking no more. Although she didn’t know it yet, GM451 was on her own.
Ben, Sophie, Ollie and the pups had called an emergency meeting. It just so happened to be in the laundry room. Ben had suggested they meet there because the sound of the rumbling washing machine would mean they couldn’t be overheard. It wasn’t that they liked keeping secrets from Mum and Dad, just that they didn’t want them to worry. Parents are very good at worrying.
Lara had been gone for some time and there had been no news from her. That wasn’t unusual, but everyone couldn’t help feeling she could probably use a helping hand. She was supposed to be ‘semi-retired’ after all, a fact that she kept conveniently forgetting.
The dark cloud had been spreading its misery over the town and the rain still hadn’t stopped falling. Sophie had sensed that everyone was getting rather short-tempered with each other, which, come to think of it, Ben had agreed with. His little sister’s instincts were usually right, even if he didn’t always like to admit it.
Spud sat on top of a pile of laundry with a sock on his head. Star shook her head at him.
‘This is no time for mucking about, bro,’ she frowned. ‘We need to work out how to help Mum!’
‘No problem, sis – I’ll put a sock in it!’ Spud giggled.
Ollie started giggling too. He loved it when Spud clowned around.
‘Maybe we should try contacting Professor Cortex?’ Ben ventured. ‘He might be able to tell us something – or at least stop us from worrying.’
Sophie and Star exchanged glances with each other. This had the feel of another adventure, and that wasn’t always a good thing …
10. Dirty Washing
It was night-time when Mr Soop finally drew the truck up to the large iron gates leading to his chicken empire. The compound was situated in the middle of a disused industrial estate. It seemed eerily quiet – apart from what Lara thought sounded strangely like an occasional ‘cluck’. She absently placed her paw on her ‘smart’ tag – only to discover it was no longer there! Lara’s head dropped. The rules of this game seemed to be changing fast. It was now down to her alone to stop Soop.
The gates appeared to open automatically, allowing the truck through to park in the courtyard. Kenneth Soop climbed down from his cab and slammed the door shut behind him. He stretched, his bottom erupting, a roast-chicken aroma making Lara’s eyes bulge. The man made his way over to one of the warehouses, where he vanished through a small side door. Lara stayed put for a moment, wafting her paw across her nose, looking around to see if it was safe to investigate. After a moment, a huge Great Dane appeared, patrolling by the perimeter fence. Lara’s eyes were drawn to a sign: DANGER! TRESPASSERS WILL BE BITTEN.