Spy Cat (3 page)

 

Shakespeare jumped off the window sill and padded to the bedroom next door.
Child's room
, he thought. He found a tennis ball and stuck his claws into it, staggering his way back to the window sill. Archie was slowed by the pram but he was still well ahead. The bedraggled Connie wouldn't catch him in time. Shakespeare knew he only had one chance. Archie had nosed open the gate and was pushing the pram through the garden below. He was in striking distance of winning the battle.

‘Cooee,' miaowed Shakespeare in his loudest voice. ‘Archie.'

The chocolate Labrador stopped and looked around, confused.

‘Up here, poochy,' purred Shakespeare. The dog's head looked upwards and he was immediately transfixed by the ball. He dropped on to all fours and put on his ga-ga eyes. Shakespeare tossed the ball into the long grass and Archie was away. The dog instantly forgot about the pram and the baby. He'd even forgotten about the neighbourhood-watch challenge. His was a one-track mind.

Shakespeare winced as Archie trod on the head of the rake. The long handle reared out
of the ground and clocked him clean on the nose.
Ouch, that's going to hurt
, thought the watchful cat. Archie yelped and staggered around. Shakespeare watched on, delighted with his work, as Connie caught up and, while the dazed dog continued to stagger round the garden, nicked the pram from him. The cat nudged the pram forwards, out of the next gate and into Lara's part of the garden. There was a cheer from the cats and Shakespeare thought he detected a look of relief on Lara's face.

Connie was held aloft and Shakespeare licked his paws, feeling superior.
It's good to see a cat coming out on top. Even if it took a helping paw!

Shakespeare padded back to the cat-shaped hollow in Sophie's duvet.
Enough excitement for one day.
He curled up and closed his eyes.

It was great to be a cat.

Nobody had ever escaped from this prison. Those serving life sentences fell into three categories. First there was the ‘too comfortable' category. Prison was a cushy number. Why bother escaping when there was a gym, TV, pool table, en-suite room and three meals a day? Others were too stupid, which is why they'd been caught in the first place. Most fell into the third category, believing it was just too difficult to break out, especially from maximum security. Escaping from your cell is hard enough; scaling the wall much harder. And even if you slipped into the outside world you would be hunted for the rest of your life.

Prisoner J969231B was not too comfortable, stupid or scared. Seven years in prison was a long time. But this last hour had made it seem
like eight. Darkness was an escapee's best friend, closely followed by the distraction of the prison guards changing shift. The prisoner crouched in the shadows, waiting for the luminous hands to reach 10 p.m.

It was a now-or-never moment. There was a satisfying clunk as the home-made hook gripped the top of the wall and then a lot of heavy panting as the prisoner hauled on the rope, reaching the top in minutes. From then on it was a matter of avoiding the spikes on top of the wall and using the rope to slide down to safety.

The prisoner stood on the freedom side of
the wall, eyes and ears alert. There was no alarm. Cool as you like, the prisoner changed clothes. Being hunted was going to be fun. The prison uniform was stuffed into a backpack and then the prisoner befriended the dark streets.

 

 

Shakespeare was intrigued by yesterday's events. He'd done a bit of snooping and listened in on a few conversations.
It seems the dog of the house fancies herself as a ‘Spy Dog'. I'm not sure what ‘MI5' is
,
thought the cat,
but it sounds exciting.
Shakespeare classed himself as a cool cat who didn't show too much enthusiasm, but he couldn't help feeling a bit of a thrill.
And here's me, spying on the spy!

The puss had been ultra-cautious, exploring the neighbourhood by night and sleeping in the empty house by day. The nights were threatening and reminded him of his time on the streets, and there were some highly suspicious characters around.
And not just animal ones.
But he didn't want to be caught and lose the comfy daytime pad he had going, so sneaking around was essential. He'd avoided the kitchen and lounge as these were dog areas. There had been just one near miss. The Cook children
had stepped off the school bus and Sophie had looked up at her bedroom window. She looked surprised as she pointed to the cat.
Almost pleased?
thought Shakespeare. But by the time she'd shaken her big brother's arm and pointed a second time Shakespeare had made sure the window sill was empty.

The morning after the neighbourhood-watch meeting, Shakespeare was sunning himself on his favourite window sill when he heard Archie and Connie below. His ears pricked as the door opened and Lara welcomed them into the house. Shakespeare was curious. He padded on to the top stair and watched. Lara was holding a clipboard in her paws and a pencil in her mouth. Lara led her deputies towards the fireplace and Shakespeare marvelled as the dog hit her bottom against a button and the fireplace rotated. The cat nearly fell off the stair as the three animals disappeared into a secret room.

His ears strained and his eyes scanned the scene.
No humans. The coast is clear. I think I'll investigate.

Shakespeare padded silently down the stairs and out through the dog flap. He sprinted round the house and shinned up a tree.
If my
sense of direction is right – and cats' senses are always excellent
,
he told himself,
then that open window must be in the secret room.
The cat crept along a branch until he was in spying distance of Lara's private meeting.

 

 

‘No,' Lara woofed, ‘you can't call yourself a Spy Cat. This is a temporary assignment. To qualify as an official spy you need to do the full training programme and spend some time on real missions. So, for the time being, you're second-in-command.' Lara jabbed a paw at Connie. ‘And you're third-in-command,' she nodded to Archie.

Shakespeare spied through the half-open window. Connie looked a little crestfallen. ‘I was kind of hoping to be a proper Spy Cat,' she said mournfully.

‘Well,' said Lara, noticing the sagging body language, ‘if you do a terrific job while I'm away, maybe we can sneak you on to the prof's official Spy School programme.' Connie's back straightened. ‘So all you have to do is take care of the neighbourhood while I'm gone. I want the usual results. Eyes and ears peeled. Anything suspicious is reported back to you and you mobilize the troops. Got it?'

Connie sat upright and saluted. ‘Got it, boss,' she miaowed.

‘Boss'
,
thought the cat.
Shame on you, puss! For goodness' sake, assert your feline superiority.
But what had piqued Shakespeare's interest more was the sound of Lara's role as a Spy Dog being far more important than just being the head of a ragtag bunch of neighbourhood-watch pets.
Official programmes and a professor. Interesting …

The Labrador's tail was wagging like mad. Shakespeare rolled his eyes as slobber from the excited Archie flew on both Lara and Connie. ‘Just remember rule number one,' said Lara.
‘The safety of the children is the most important thing in the world. Always. Forever. Got it?'

‘Got it,' miaowed Connie.

Archie looked confused. He raised a paw, like Lara had told him to. ‘But, boss,' he panted, ‘what are the other rules again?'

‘There aren't any,' miaowed Connie, enjoying the predictable confusion that spread across the Labrador's face.

‘There's genuine danger out there in the big wide world,' barked Lara, lowering her tone for effect. ‘And we don't want to fill your doggy head with too many rules, big fella. So there's just one thing for you to remember – rule number one – look after the kids. And full alert at all times. Trust nobody. You never know when enemy agents might attack.'

Shakespeare stifled a feline snigger.
Rule number one
, he purred.
In my case it's more like ‘look after number one'. Secret meetings,
genuine danger, enemy spies! That's a laugh. I've lived anonymously in this neighbourhood for almost a whole week. Nothing exciting ever happens around here.

Shakespeare had slept in, again. It was 3 a.m. by the time he'd finished strolling the streets and foraging in the skip outside the kebab shop. His mouth was still burning when he sneaked into the Cooks' house through his usual route, up the tree and through Sophie's window. The little girl had been fast asleep so he'd snuggled up at the foot of the bed, eyes shut but one ear open. He couldn't help a quiet purr as his feet curled underneath him. There was something about Sophie that made him feel happy.

She's a bit like my own little girl
, he thought, before brushing that idea away with a shake of his head.
It's not worth the risk of getting close to another human again
,
he told himself sternly.
Those days are gone. There's no more falling in love with a family. It's Shaky against the world.

As soon as the orange light started creeping up the horizon, he heard Sophie stirring.
Such an early starter
. The cat stretched, slipping under the bed and finding a comfy space next to her slippers. He purred as he listened to the family going about their morning business. It was a Saturday and he knew things were different on Saturdays. It felt more relaxed and his cat senses told him there was an extra tingle of excitement in the air.

By mid-morning Shakespeare had moved to the window sill. A small crowd had gathered below and the Cook children seemed very excited. Sophie's big brother, Ben, and little brother, Ollie, were with her. A black van pulled up and a plump man in a white lab coat jumped out. Everyone seemed to like him. The children were grinning and Lara was wagging so hard her whole body was wriggling. He noticed that the man saluted the retired Spy Dog and the dog saluted back. Mum, Dad, the children and Lara then disappeared into the kitchen, the man carrying a briefcase. He must have been ‘the prof' that Shakespeare had heard Lara mention.

Eventually the small group appeared below the window once more, and there was a lot of hugging before the professor opened the van door and the black and white dog jumped in. Lara strapped herself into the front seat and fixed her shades in place. Archie stood on his hind legs, paws on the van window, as Lara issued some final instructions.

Probably reminding him of rule number one.
Shakespeare couldn't help feeling that Lara was pretty cool.
For a dog.
The professor revved the powerful engine. The window whirred down and the family pet waved a paw as the van sped away.

‘See you in a fortnight,' she howled.

Shakespeare was relieved.
Spy Dog is out of the way.
He heard Mum coming across the landing with the vacuum cleaner.
I hate that thing
, thought the cat. He peered out of Sophie's bedroom door and saw that Mrs Cook was driving the noise machine into the big bedroom. He took his chance and scampered out of the room, down the stairs and into the lounge. There was nobody about, so he did what he had seen Lara do the previous day. Shakespeare stood tall and thumped his paw
on the button by the fire. He sat still as the fireplace rotated itself – and now him – into Lara's secret room.

It took him a few seconds for his cat's eyes to get accustomed to the dimly lit room. On every wall there were pictures of Lara in various action poses.
And there she is meeting royalty
, noted Shakespeare.
Impressive! And so many CCTV screens. What is this place?

The cat leapt up on to the desk. There was a board with newspaper cuttings on it. Shakespeare had no idea what the words meant but Lara and the white-coated old man they called the ‘prof' appeared in quite a few. Shakespeare spotted the same briefcase that the professor had been carrying, lying on the desk.
So he came in here too with Lara then. Interesting.
The lock on the briefcase was undone and Shakespeare couldn't resist. Curiosity sometimes killed the cat but Shakespeare had always found that the more knowledge he had, the more likely he was to survive. He ran his paw over the lock – there was a click and the case sprang open. There were lots of pieces of paper with yellow Post-it notes all over them. The cat scratched open an envelope and pulled out some photographs.
There were lots of animal action shots, including one of a pig on a treadmill.
Weird!

 

 

Shakespeare dug his paw deeper into the briefcase and rummaged around underneath the papers. His claws extended and he hooked on to something.
Nice
, he thought, pulling out a metal collar.
Just my size.
The cat struggled with it.
It's so frustrating having paws instead of fingers
, he thought, before he eventually managed to click the collar round his throat.
He stretched his neck and looked in the mirror.
Quite handsome
, he thought. He noticed that when he clicked the collar shut it activated a red flashing light.

Little did Shakespeare know that he was wearing the professor's latest and most ingenious invention.