Spy Cat (11 page)

The professor and Lara gasped as they entered Ward 19.

‘Goodness me, GM451,' remarked the old man. ‘Seems like there's been a bit of action while we were away.'

Ben, Sophie and Ollie ran to their dog, hugging Lara tightly. ‘Quite,' remarked the professor as Ollie turned his attention and hugged the professor, his face buried in the man's cuddly tummy.

Dad lay in bed number one, his head bandaged and an arm in plaster. Mum was in bed number two, two black eyes and a puffy face. Shakespeare was in bed number three, lying on his back, both back legs jutting upwards encased in plaster. Part of his left ear and two front teeth were missing. His left eye was closed.

 

 

‘My heroes,' began the professor.

‘He's the hero,' said Sophie, stroking Shakespeare's tummy as softly as she could.

Ouch
, thought the cat.
That hurts. But it's still nice.
He managed a slight purr, looking at Sophie affectionately.
My first in months!

‘It's all your fault, Professor,' croaked Mum through cracked lips. ‘You and your stupid spy gadgets.'

‘My fault?' exclaimed the scientist, twiddling his spectacles nervously. ‘But, Mrs Cook,' he stammered, ‘I wasn't even in the country.'

‘She means this,' said Ben, walking over to Shakespeare and fiddling with the flashing collar. ‘Your brilliant invention. It turned
Shakespeare from a normal moggie into a superhero.'

Shakespeare purred louder and he tried to look heroic.
I'd better be careful or I'll be wearing my pants on the outside next
, he thought.
I've got a very cool reputation to protect!

‘We think he accidentally discovered the collar,' suggested Ben.

The cat nodded.

‘And accidentally stowed away on our camping trip.' All eyes fell on the cat.

Kind of
, he thought, trying to shrug but finding it too painful.
More of a deliberate accident.

‘And there was an evil baddie,' said Ollie, holding his hands and fingers out, like a bear.

‘Who turned out to be a woman,' continued Sophie.

‘Slow down,' said Professor Cortex, his face red and sweaty, still struggling to come to terms with the fact this was all his fault. ‘One at a time. Benjamin, please continue.'

Ben took a breath and composed himself. ‘We camped, for my scout badge. With Mum and Dad nearby.' He glanced at Lara. ‘It was a last-minute thing, old girl,' he said. ‘And we weren't anticipating an escaped prisoner.'

‘Jess,' said Ollie, his eyes shining, doing the bear thing again.

‘That's right,' agreed Ben. ‘But there was a weird man who we
thought
was the escaped prisoner. He turned out to be a retired policeman who knew Jess had buried her treasure in one of the mines. But he wasn't sure which one. Or where. So he was lurking. Once he knew she'd escaped, he knew she'd come looking for the loot.'

‘So even the goodie was a baddie,' noted the professor, trying to keep up.

‘And somehow the man got trapped down a mine,' said Sophie, a puzzled look on her face. ‘The police haven't figured that bit out yet. His rope was cut.'

Chewed actually
, remembered the cat.
But let's not dwell on that.

‘So,' said Ben, taking up the tale once more, ‘we ended up sharing a tent with the world's most dangerous escapee. She said she'd phoned the police but she hadn't. In fact she took the battery out of the phone so we were totally cut off.'

Mum shuddered.

‘And, to cut a long story short, I ended up
down the mine, with the loot and a gun and
both
baddies.' Ben paused for breath. ‘And, thankfully, a very special cat!'

Professor Cortex fixed his spectacles back on to his face and peered at the injured cat. Sophie tickled Shakespeare's tummy and he dared purr louder still.

‘We're not exactly sure what puss got up to,' admitted Sophie. ‘But there was a disturbance at a local house where a cat fell down a chimney.'

That bit wasn't my finest hour
, purred the puss.

‘And although the man said he knew the mines like the back of his hand, it was actually Jess who knew them like the back of her arms,' piped up Ollie.

‘She had a treasure map tattooed all over her arms,' explained Sophie to the open-mouthed professor. ‘And it ended up with this heroic puss stealing the cash and sending Jess down the mine in a carriage. The police found her. The carriage had smashed into a rock fall. She's OK,' said Sophie, ‘but was wandering around in the darkness in a bit of a daze. I think she was actually quite glad to be re-arrested and to see some daylight.'

‘And the stolen money?' asked Professor
Cortex, pushing his spectacles back to the bridge of his nose. ‘The small matter of half a million pounds?'

‘Some of the notes were fluttering loose in the tunnels,' said Ben. ‘But the rucksack of cash hasn't been found. The authorities are sealing the mine for good. So I guess the money will stay down there forever.'

Shakespeare wasn't so sure. He was the only one who knew where the cash was stashed. He'd spent the last twenty-four hours thinking things through. He'd always considered that while dogs have owners, cats have ‘staff'.

I could recover the loot and live life as a moggy millionaire, lying on a sheepskin rug, doggy servants attending to my every need.

He imagined Lara bringing him a whole salmon on a silver platter. He'd seen movies and quite fancied Paris. And he was rather taken with some leather boots that he'd seen a cat wearing in
Shrek
.
Maybe I could use the cash to buy a couple of pairs? Or a James Bond Aston Martin?
But, as he looked round at the family, and Sophie stroking his tummy, he considered that maybe he already had everything he ever needed.

‘And, ahem, what about y-your mum and
dad?' stammered the professor. Mum was scowling. Dad's medication meant he was snoring gently, a bit of slobber dripping from his bottom lip.

‘Me and slobber chops drove to the tent, in the dead of night,' mumbled Mum through her puffed-up face. ‘Like any parent would do if there was a dangerous criminal on the loose. And we drove a little too fast.'

‘And we'd woken up and noticed Ben and Jess were gone,' smiled Ollie, ‘so were being big and brave and walking back to the farm. And they nearly ran us over!'

‘I see,' nodded the professor nervously. ‘Nearly run over by your own parents! So not such a bad ending after all.'

Mrs Cook raised her upper body from the bed, about to argue, but the professor cut her off. ‘I mean,' he said, ‘it could have been an awful lot worse. In fact,' he added, feeling brave in the knowledge that Mrs Cook was unable to get out of bed, ‘my translating collar has actually saved the day. Without Shakespeare here, there would have been nobody to rescue young Benjamin.'

Mrs Cook lay down again, for once too
exhausted to argue. The scientist pressed on, delighted to have the upper hand. ‘Let me tell you about the collar,' he said, beginning to hop from foot to foot in what Sophie called the ‘Mad Professor Dance'. ‘It's exactly like scrambled eggs.'

Mum's hand went to her brow which she shook gently in despair.

‘No, no, Mrs Cook. Don't be like that. Think about it. What do you get if you
unscramble
scrambled eggs?'

 

 

The pregnant pause was broken by Ben. ‘Er, whole eggs?'

‘Exactly!' beamed the scientist. ‘And that's the principle behind my translating, or should I say
life-saving
, pet collar. It's deadly simple, you see. It uses neuro-gamma rhythms to unscramble the linguistic variables that enable the user to unpick the code in the pre-frontal cortex …' The professor stopped hopping and looked at the various human, cat and dog furrowed brows. ‘I'm doing it again, aren't I?' he said.

The children nodded. ‘Keep it simple, Prof,' smiled Ollie. ‘I got the scrambled eggs bit.'

‘Well done, young Oliver,' nodded the professor. ‘Unscrambling. That's the most important concept.' He fixed his eyes on the cat in double plaster casts. ‘I guess the very simple question is what happens to puss-in-boots?' The scientist clasped his hands and looked expectantly at the family. ‘If he joined the team he'd need a code name, of course.'

Shakespeare felt five pairs of human eyes burning into him. ‘Can we keep him, Mum?' chirped Sophie. ‘He needs looking after. And he's a stray. Just like Lara was. And he saved our lives. Just like Lara has … several times over.'

Mum closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Joining the team?
She could remember the old days, pre-Lara, pre-the pups (who were at home awaiting their return and probably creating utter chaos) when life was quiet and ordinary. A Spy Dog was bad enough. But a Spy Cat too?

‘We're not a team, we're a family,' she reminded them wearily.

‘Pleeeease?' droned Ollie, all eyes now on Mum. ‘A family's a kind of team.'

Shakespeare had stopped purring. This was too tense. He had a chance of being adopted. By a family that he hardly knew but already loved. With a perfect little girl who had such a comfortable bed. Plus the chance of living under the same roof as the world's first ever Licensed Assault and Rescue Animal.

Forget Paris
, he thought, hardly daring to breathe.
And the money. And I can get by without the boots.

‘Dogs and cats don't mix,' croaked Mum. ‘It's not fair on Lara or the pups.'

The eyes moved once more, this time to the established family guardian. Shakespeare's good eye was pleading. ‘I'll do anything you say,' he yowled. ‘I'm no trouble. I'll do chores …'

Lara looked at the bandaged feline.
Mum is
right, cats and dogs don't mix
,
she thought, looking round at the children's expectant faces. Sophie's eyes were pleading.
But this puss understands rule number one.

Lara smiled a doggy grin. ‘Any cat who saves the lives of my beloved children is OK by me,' she woofed. ‘And the professor's right. You'll need a code name. How about, “Agent CAT”?'

Shakespeare looked a little confused. Lara seemed to be inviting him to join the family, but he wasn't sure about the code name. ‘Agent CAT? Isn't that a bit, you know, obvious?' he croaked.

Lara winked at the puss. ‘Classified Animal Trainee,' she woofed, ‘welcome aboard.'