Atticus Claw Lends a Paw (9 page)

Atticus started to purr. That was exactly what Atticus saw too! He was glad Professor Verry-Clever was so brainy. For some reason, the rest of the humans didn’t seem to have a clue what the
hieroglyphs
meant. Nor did Mimi. They were looking at him and the Professor in complete puzzlement. Atticus couldn’t understand what the problem was: normally they were pretty good at reading.

‘Who is the great ruler?’ Michael demanded.

Edmund Verry-Clever looked up. ‘He is the cat pharaoh: Cattypuss the Great.’

‘Cattypuss!’ Mrs Tucker shrieked. ‘That’s Atticus’s middle name. Well, one of them.’

‘Bloomin’ hake!’ Mr Tucker exclaimed.

‘Any idea how he got it?’ the Professor demanded sharply.

‘No,’ Mrs Cheddar shook her head. ‘He just arrived on the doorstep with it.’

Atticus touched his neckerchief. His name was sewn on it in spidery writing.

He’d never thought about his name before. Or where it had come from. It had just been there, around his neck, since he was a kitten.

The Professor eyed Atticus with growing
respect
. He offered Atticus the book. Atticus turned to the final page. He had a feeling this would be the best bit of the story.

‘Only the true descendant of Cattypuss the Great can open the tomb of the cat pharaoh,’ the Professor read. ‘It is only he who has the necessary
wisdom, passed down from previous lives. It is only he who may enter the tomb without being cursed.’

I knew that!
Atticus thought proudly. ‘Instinct’ Mimi called it. And he had it in bucket-loads. He looked round. Everyone was staring at him, including Mimi. He wondered why.

The humans all started talking at once.

In the din Atticus caught the words

– ‘Egypt’ and

– ‘expedition’ and

– ‘top secret’ and

– ‘dangerous’ and

– ‘Dad was right’ and

– ‘Klob’ and

– ‘Biscuit’ and

– ‘magpies’ and

– ‘Lord and Lady Toffly’ and

– ‘over my dead body’ (several times from Mrs Tucker)

– and his own name repeated over and over and over again:

Atticus, Cattypuss,

Atticus, Cattypuss,

Atticus, Cattypuss.

Until Atticus felt quite dizzy. He had to squeeze Mimi’s paw to keep himself from falling off the desk.

Eventually Edmund Verry-Clever raised his hand for silence. ‘So we are agreed. We will mount an expedition to Egypt to rediscover the lost city of Nebu-Mau: the golden city of cats. Atticus will lead us. In the meantime I will keep the book safe here in the museum’s vault while the necessary arrangements are made. You will keep Atticus safe at home. We will leave in two days’ time.’

Everyone else nodded.

Atticus felt puzzled. Of course he’d be happy to go to Egypt. It was hot there and he liked sunbathing. But lead an expedition to rediscover the lost city of Nebu-Mau? That sounded like hard work. And there was the curse to think about. And why did they need to keep him safe? He could look after himself. ‘Why me?’ he whispered to Mimi. ‘Can’t someone else do it?

‘It has to be you, Atticus,’ Mimi purred quietly. ‘Don’t you see? That’s how you can read the hieroglyphs. That’s how you knew where to find the book.’

‘What do you mean?’ Atticus said, puzzled.

‘Oh, Atticus,’ Mimi cried. ‘Wake up! The book’s talking about you!
You
are the descendant of Cattypuss the Great.’

11

‘Remarkable, quite remarkable!’

When his visitors had gone, Professor Edmund Verry-Clever sat poring over the book. He would lock it in the museum’s vault later. Right now, he just wanted to admire it. It was the most wonderful object he had ever encountered in all the years he had spent studying Ancient Egypt. Imagine! To discover the lost city of Nebu-Mau; to find the golden city of cats; to enter the tomb of cat pharaoh, Cattypuss the Great: it was every scholar’s dream.

The Professor couldn’t believe his good fortune. What a stroke of luck to come across a tabby who was descended from Cattypuss the Great himself! Atticus would lead them to the city, just as he had
led his family to the stolen book in the crypt. It was fate. It was a miracle. It was the will of the Ancient Egyptian gods. And you couldn’t argue with them, unless you wanted to die a horrible death, like Howard Toffly.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

The Professor looked up.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

He frowned. The noise seemed to be coming from the glass display case of Horus. He got up to investigate.

TAP. TAP. TAP.

The Professor froze.

Horus had moved. He was staring up at him with glittering eyes, tapping at the glass. And the two sacrificial birds weren’t dead any more. They were hopping about chattering at one another.

The professor staggered backwards.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

He turned his head in disbelief.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The knocking was coming from inside the
sarcophagus
.

He watched in horror as the door swung open.

The mummy stepped out, arms outstretched. It reached under the wrappings covering its head. Something sharp gleamed in its
bandaged
hand.

The Professor screamed.

ZIP!

A hairpin flew through the air. It hit the Professor in the chest. He folded to the floor.

‘MMYYAAAAWWWWWW!’

The last thing he remembered before he passed out was a furry flash of ginger as the sphinx came to life.

‘Good vork!’ Zenia Klob prodded the Professor with her bandaged boot. ‘Now get him in the
trolley
. Qvick! Before somebody comes.’

Ginger Biscuit got the squeaky wheelie trolley out of the cupboard and heaved Edmund Verry-Clever into it. He flicked out his claws one by one – POP. POP. POP. POP. – and released the three birds from the glass case.

‘Ve’ll take this!’ Zenia grabbed Howard Toffly’s
stolen book off the desk and pressed it to her
bandaged
lips. ‘And the Professor. That vay ve von’t be followed. No vun else knows vere the lost city is. All ve need now is Atticus.’

‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’ the magpies chattered angrily.

‘Grrrrrr,’ Biscuit growled.

‘Silence!’ She clicked her boots. ‘I don’t care vether you like it or not,’ she hissed. ‘Ve need Atticus to get the treasure. He is the only vun who can open the tomb.’ She glanced out of the window. The Tofflys were perched on the domed roof with several bin bags full of wool, some
knitting
needles and a vat of Thumpers’ Knitquick. Pig, Gizzard and Wally hovered nearby. Zenia raised a fist. ‘Let’s go and get him,’ she said, ‘vile the Tofflys do the vest.’

At about four o’clock that afternoon the call came through to the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth that the graffiti knitters had struck London. The British Museum had been cocooned in a mohair vest. The Chief Inspector set off for Scotland Yard.

‘Get Cheddar!’ he yelled at his secretary on the way out. ‘Tell him he’s an idiot. I was right all along. It’s not Smellie. Tell him the Police Commissioner wants to see us. NOW!’

Inspector Cheddar was sitting in his wife’s car opposite the Home for Abandoned Cats eating a Twix when the secretary got hold of him on his walkie-talkie.

He could hardly believe his ears.
Not Smellie!
Then who?
Inspector Cheddar set off for Scotland Yard, his jaw set. Something told him this was going to be BIG. VERY BIG!

NEE NAW NEE NAW NEE NAW!

This was a job for the professionals. He zoomed up the motorway, whizzed through the streets of London, skidded to a halt outside Scotland Yard and raced into the building.

The Police Commissioner was waiting for him in his office.

‘Ah, Cheddar, there you are,’ the Police Commissioner said. ‘Good to see you again.’ (They had worked together on the Crown Jewels case with Atticus.) He shook his head. ‘Bad business this.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Inspector Cheddar said. ‘Knitting crime is no joke.’

‘He’s not talking about
that
, Cheddar!’ the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth roared. ‘The knitting’s just a cover-up.’

Inspector Cheddar giggled. ‘Good one, sir!’

‘Are you all right, Cheddar?’ the Police Commissioner frowned.

‘Yes, sir.’ Inspector Cheddar coughed. Being in the company of the Police Commissioner always seemed to make him nervous.

‘We had a call from Agent Whelk,’ the Commissioner told him. ‘Known to you as Mrs Edna Tucker. She explained about Howard Toffly and the book he stole when he was in Egypt.’

Inspector Cheddar guffawed. ‘I suppose she also told you that Atticus is descended from the cat pharaoh and that it’s his destiny to protect the lost city of Nebu-Mau from being discovered by the Tofflys?’

‘Something like that.’ The Commissioner nodded seriously. ‘Agent Whelk and your family had a meeting today at the British Museum with
Professor Verry-Clever at which Atticus was present. The Professor confirmed that the book is genuine. It seems that Atticus is a descendant of the cat pharaoh, Cattypuss the Great. Only Atticus can lead an expedition to find the lost city. He alone can defeat the curse.’

‘Shut up!’ Inspector Cheddar laughed.

‘I beg your pardon?’ the Police Commissioner looked astonished.

Inspector Cheddar saw he had made a mistake. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said quickly, ‘I didn’t mean shut up as in “be quiet”, I meant shut up as in “no way”. Are you sure?’

‘Oh, I see … well … yes way,’ the Police Commissioner replied. ‘It’s true. The problem is we aren’t the only people who know about the book. Our old enemies Klob, Biscuit and the magpies are back. They’ve teamed up with the Tofflys. We think they’re behind the knitting crimes. It was just a diversion to put the police off the scent while they went after the book.’

Inspector Cheddar looked sheepish. That was exactly what his family had told him. He really must remember to listen to them next time.

‘I knew it!’ the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth lied.

‘When we finally unpicked our way into the museum,’ the Police Commissioner said sombrely, ‘we found that Professor Verry-Clever had gone missing,’ the Commissioner went on. ‘So had the book. We think Klob and her gang must have followed Agent Whelk into the museum, kidnapped the Professor and taken the book. We think they’ll try and use the Professor to decipher the hieroglyphs. But from what Agent Whelk tells us, without Atticus they won’t be able to open the tomb. Or if they do, they’ll regret it. Fortunately they don’t know that. They’re probably on their way to Egypt already.’

‘What do you want me to do, sir?’ Inspector Cheddar asked. He wasn’t laughing now.

‘You’re going to Cairo, as planned,’ the Commissioner said, ‘with your family, Agent Whelk and her husband. And Atticus, of course. Your mission, together with Police Cat Sergeant Claw, is to find the lost city of Nebu-Mau, rescue Edmund Verry-Clever, recover the book, capture the villains and alert the Egyptian government to
the whereabouts of the treasure.’

‘Without being cursed by the cat pharaoh,’ the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth added cheerfully.

‘Quite so. Think you can manage that, Cheddar?’ the Commissioner asked.

‘Leave it to me, sir!’ Inspector Cheddar said. ‘You can rest assured: nothing will go wrong while I’m in charge.’