Spy Cat (6 page)

The tattooed man gripped the rope and disappeared into the mine, the pistol tucked into his belt and a torch between his teeth. Shakespeare had watched enough cop shows to know that he was now up to his neck in his very first proper spy mission.

The lady and the children had panic etched on their faces. Shakespeare ignored the flash of protectiveness that swept over him. He was getting carried away by the danger of the moment – this was all about the mission and being able to say he'd foiled the criminal to save the kids.
Concentrate. I'm a cat
, he thought.
A pretty cool one, but I'm not quite in the James Bond league. Or Lara's, come to think of it.
Shakespeare hadn't attended any of the neighbourhood-watch meetings but he'd observed a few. And
he knew the safety of the children was the most important thing.
That's why I'm here!
He crept low towards the children, who were chattering and jabbing their fingers towards the mine. He crouched in the tall grass and listened to what they planned to do next so that he could formulate his own plan.

‘Who has a phone?' asked Jess.

‘I have,' said Sophie, rummaging in her coat pocket. She handed it over to the adult. ‘OK,' said Jess, a little calmer. ‘The escaped prisoner is down the mine. I'll ring the police and we can just walk away.' She tapped 999 into the mobile and put her finger to her lips to signify
shush
. ‘Hello,' she stammered. ‘Police, please … yes, of course it's an emergency.'

The children stared at Jess in hope as they waited for the call to be put through. ‘Hello, police,' hissed Jess, trying to keep her voice down. ‘I'd like to report an escaped prisoner. The one off the TV this morning.'

All eyes had gone from hope to relief. ‘Yes,' she said frantically. ‘He had tattoos and a gun!'

Ollie nodded enthusiastically. ‘Probably with real bullets,' he said.

‘Where are we?' she asked aloud. Ben pointed
to the map, jabbing his finger at the X that marked the mine. ‘We're pretty much in the middle of nowhere,' said the lady. ‘But the nearest village is Coombeshead,' she said, squinting at the map. ‘We're just south of there.'

‘That's where our mum and dad are staying,' said Sophie.

Jess smiled and gave her the thumbs-up to show she'd heard.

Ben nodded in relief. He was glad of the mobile phone.

‘It's me and three children,' Jess continued, the phone glued tightly to her ear. ‘Where are we staying?'

‘We're camping,' whispered Sophie, making a triangle with her hands, her eyes focused on the hole in the ground, silently praying the man's head wouldn't reappear.

Jess listened to the phone for a while. ‘Yes, we'll go back to the tent and stay put,' she said. ‘Thank you, officer. It's such a relief to know you're on your way.' Jess ended the call and looked a little less nervous. ‘You heard that,' she said, slipping the mobile into her pocket. ‘We need to get back to the tent and stay put. The police will do the rest.'

‘Probably send another helicopter,' suggested Ollie. ‘That'd be quickest.'

The small group hurried past the hole, Ben leading the way towards the tent.

Shakespeare was satisfied that the police would sort things out now.
But
, he thought,
I think we're missing an obvious trick. The baddie is down the big hole. And the rope is tied to the fence at the top of the hole. So,
he considered,
wouldn't it be a smart idea to trap him in the hole? After all, we don't want the cops turning up and finding the villain has escaped. Again!
He pondered for a moment, Lara's words echoing in his head. ‘
The children must be safe.
'
Well, they'll be a whole lot safer if the baddie stays underground
, thought the cat. He waded through the wet grass, under the fence, and sat at the edge of the hole. He patted the rope with his paw and it was slack.
So he's reached the bottom and is exploring the mine
, thought the cat. Shakespeare looked at his paws. He extended his claws.
Being a cat is great
, he thought.
Night-vision, razor teeth, nine lives … but I'd kill for fingers and thumbs!
He tried to grab the rope between his front paws and haul it up, but it was no good. The rope kept slipping. He
padded over to the fence and examined the knot.
Only one thing for it
, he thought as he started to chew his way through the fibres.

The rain had started. Shakespeare's mouth was aching but he wasn't about to give up.
This feels like dog work but if I can chew my way through the rope the baddie will be trapped. The kids will be safe and I'll be the coolest cat in the neighbourhood.
He imagined the ceremony at the neighbourhood-watch meeting.
Lara will most probably put a medal around my neck. There might be some photographers and reporters. I wonder if there will be some TV?
He was snapped out of his daydream as the rope suddenly became taut. He stopped chewing and examined his handiwork.
Three-quarters through the rope
, he thought.
But if the rope has gone tight that means the man has started climbing back up. The baddie is escaping … which means the kids are in danger!
He ran to the hole and peered into it – he was sure he could see the top of a head in the darkness.
There's no time to lose. I must chew faster!

 

 

Shakespeare gnawed for all he was worth. He'd chewed on a few bones from the butcher's shop when times had been hard but this rope sure was tough. One of his side teeth came loose and he spat it out, blood oozing into his mouth. The fibres were almost chewed through. Then, all of a sudden, to Shakespeare's massive relief, the rope snapped under the pressure of the climbing man and disappeared down the hole. There was a thud from way below and a wail as the baddie hit the floor hard.
Phew
, thought the cat, venturing back to the hole in the ground. He leant in as far as he dared and miaowed as loudly as he could. ‘Got you, you evil baddie.' Shakespeare knew the man couldn't understand cat language but it felt good to know that he was trapped until the police arrived.

‘Who's there?' wailed a voice from below. ‘You could have killed me, idiot!'

‘Miaow,' replied Shakespeare smugly. ‘Just
Agent 009. And I'm up here and you're trapped down there, so who's the idiot?'

‘Is that a cat?' yelled the man.

Shakespeare replied proudly with a double miaow and a hiss. Fighting crime felt good. ‘That's Spy Cat to you. With a keen brain and a translating collar. Solving crimes and sweeping baddies off the streets.'

‘Whoever's there with that cat, you have to get me out,' echoed the faint voice from the mine. ‘Someone's cut the rope.'

Chewed it actually
, smirked the cat.
And not ‘someone'. Some cat.

‘You're in grave danger,' yelled the voice from below.

Not as long as you're in there and we're not
, thought Shakespeare, dusting his paws and scampering after the children.

The rain bounced off the tent. Night-time had come quicker with the arrival of the dark rain clouds, so Jess suggested the children changed into their pyjamas and snuggled up until the police arrived. ‘You always feel safer when you're tucked up,' she said, managing a smile. Ollie was changed in double-quick time, his wide eyes peering out of the top of his sleeping bag. Sophie and Ben cuddled up protectively either side of him.

Jess had to shout to make herself heard above the rain. ‘Let's think this through,' she began. ‘It's almost dark. The police are probably at the mine, arresting the escaped prisoner. They know where we are.'

Sophie gasped as lightning lit up the tent for an instant.

‘So I vote we stay put until then,' Jess continued. ‘If we move from here the police won't know how to find us.' The children jumped as a huge crack of thunder rumbled around the sky.

A muffled voice came from inside Ollie's sleeping bag. ‘What if the baddie finds us?'

‘He won't,' said Jess, looking confident, ‘The police are probably arresting him right now.' She flexed her arm muscles and grinned. ‘Plus, nobody fools with No Mess Jess.'

Ben smiled bravely, appreciating Jess's attempt to lighten the mood.

Ollie's eyes reappeared out of the top of his sleeping bag. He liked the idea of ‘No Mess Jess'.

‘Seriously, though, if that man has escaped from the mine, the last thing we want to do is bump into him on a wild stormy night. In the dark,' Jess added, her face lit like flash photography.

Sophie squeaked and huddled close to her baby brother. Ben felt uneasy. ‘I have a Plan B,' he said. ‘I'll ring Dad and he can come to pick us up. He can be here in ten minutes. A night in the farmhouse has to be safer than a night here.'

All eyes fell on the only adult. Jess nodded.
‘I agree. That's a better idea.' She rummaged for the mobile phone and passed it to Ben. The torchlight picked out his trembling hands. He pressed the buttons frantically and put the phone to his ear. Ollie's eyes were peeping again. He saw his brother jab the buttons even harder and shake the phone violently before throwing it to the floor. ‘It's dead!' he yelled, tears of frustration welling in his eyes.

‘It can't be,' wailed Sophie, scrambling to pick it up. ‘It was fully charged this morning.' The girl tapped her fingers at the keys before
turning and glaring at her little brother. ‘Ollie,' she shouted. ‘My phone was for emergencies. Have you been playing games on it?'

 

 

Wails of denial muffled out of the top of Ollie's sleeping bag before Jess interrupted. ‘Kids, there's no point in arguing and shouting. We need to stay calm.'

‘Can't
you
rescue us, Jess?' pleaded Sophie. ‘You must have a car?'

The lady tidied her long blonde hair into a ponytail and shook her head. ‘Sorry, Sof,' she said, ‘I'm a hiker and climber. It's just me and my backpack. My Landrover is in a car park in town.'

The small group looked at each other as a feeling of panic filled the tent. Eventually Jess broke the silence. ‘That settles it. Let's go back to Plan A,' she soothed. ‘There's no getting away from the fact that we're stuck until they come. But that shouldn't be long at all now! Remember what the police said? To stay put. They know we're here and if we go wandering off in this storm they might not be able to locate and rescue us.'

There really was no other choice. Ben, Ollie and Sophie took one pod and Jess the other. The
pods were zipped and the children and Jess lay in the dark, their hearts thumping and the rain pelting. It was a while before the excitement of the day took its toll and everyone fell asleep.

Ben was woken by rain dripping into the tent. He consoled himself that these were extreme conditions and even the best tent-putter-upper in the world would struggle to keep this amount of rain out. This was still worthy of the camping badge, Ben told himself. He shifted position to avoid the dripping, being careful not to wake his sister and brother. He wondered how long they had been asleep. The police obviously still hadn't made it to them just yet. It was then that he saw the flash of a torch.
Definitely not lightning
, he thought. The beam of light was in the main tent area. He felt a chill and pulled his sleeping bag tighter.
Please don't let it be the escaped prisoner
, he thought. He listened carefully as the outside of the tent was unzipped.

Shakespeare had made it back to the tent just before everyone fell asleep. He'd sneaked into the dry warmth of the main part of the tent, still feeling proud that he'd trapped the
dangerous criminal. Shakespeare was tempted to have a catnap but his feline sixth sense wouldn't let him sleep. He mind was racing.
The police are on the way. But what if there was another passage out of the mine and the baddie had escaped?
It was clearly too dangerous for the children to walk to the farmhouse, so he decided he'd go for help.
I'll alert Mum and Dad,
he thought.
It's better to be safe than sorry.

He listened to the howling storm and then peeked in on the sleeping children and sighed.
What's wrong with me these days? The old Shakespeare would never willingly get wet for kids!
He reluctantly emerged from the safety of the tent. Storm or no storm, he knew there was no choice but to get to the house.

The bedraggled cat stood in the rain, feeling miserable. Cats have a notorious hatred of water and Shakespeare was no different. He was soaked through. His fur clung to his body, his ears and whiskers drooped, and he walked as if the weight of the world was on his feline shoulders.

 

 

Plus
, thought Shakespeare,
I'm not even sure which way the farmhouse is.
Eventually he came to a narrow road and decided to follow it. Rain
was bouncing off the tarmac, worsening his mood.
This will be my first and last mission
, he thought to himself as a car's lights picked him out but failed to stop, causing the cat to leap into the ditch to save his own life.
Road hog
, he thought as the red lights disappeared round the bend. Eventually Shakespeare saw a light ahead.
A house!
He didn't know if it was the house
where Mr and Mrs Cook were staying but a house meant people.
And help!
Shakespeare felt re-energized and broke into a canter.
Phew! Safety, at last
, he thought, crawling under the gate and into the garden.

He stood for a second, getting his bearings. As lightning lit the sky he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was too late to react. The dog hit him like a steam train.