The Case of the Missing Cats (15 page)

She waited.

But nothing happened.

The smoke from the gunfire cleared to reveal the empty river in front of them, calm again.

‘Did we hit it?' asked the detective inspector.

‘Spotlight,' shouted the sergeant and a spotlight on the back of a van swung its beam across the surface
of the water. There was no sign of the Amphiptere. ‘Should we send in the divers, sir?'

‘What? Yes, good idea. Send in the divers.'

‘Get the divers!' shouted the sergeant.

‘You must have missed it,' said Holly.

‘That's very unlikely,' said the sergeant. ‘We have some excellent marksmen in the force. Wilkins over there won a prize last year, didn't you,Wilkins?'

Another policeman gave a little wave and shouted proudly, ‘Best shot in Barking three years in a row, sir.'

‘But we'd all be dead if you'd hit it,' she said.

‘You seem to know a lot about this,' said the bearded policeman, who had snapped out of his trance. ‘My name is Detective Inspector Hughes. And what, may I ask, is your name?' he demanded.

‘Holly.'

‘And how do you profess to know so much, Holly?'

‘I . . .' Holly stopped herself from bursting out with everything she knew. The Kinghorns. The cats. The plan to blow up London. Dirk had said that if humans knew dragons existed then there would be a war.

‘Are you alone?' asked Detective Inspector Hughes.

‘Yes,' said Holly.

She glanced at the rope which led into the river then quickly looked away, but the policeman followed her gaze and asked, ‘What's on the end of this, then?'

‘Nothing,' she replied. ‘I don't know.'

‘Sergeant, haul in that rope,' ordered Hughes.

The sergeant grabbed it and pulled it in easily. Dirk was no longer tied to the other end. Holly's relief that they hadn't found him was measured by thoughts of what might have happened to him.

‘OK, little girl,' said the detective inspector, ‘start talking,'

Holly opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter one word her attention was drawn by the sound of a slow handclap. She and both policemen turned to see a man in a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat walking slowly towards them, clapping his hands together.

‘
Bravo! Bravissimo!
Well done. Tallulah you are an a-genius. Even when the camera is not a-pointing at you, you continue.' The man spoke in an Italian accent, gesticulating flamboyantly.

‘This is real method acting. You make De Niro look like an am dram theatre ham. I will call him tomorrow and tell him as much.'

‘Who are you?' barked Detective Inspector Hughes.

‘My name is Alfonso Firenze. I am a great film director. This is my card.' The man pulled out a card from his top pocket and the sergeant took it.

‘Alfonzo Firenze,' he read aloud, ‘director, producer, writer and genius.'

‘Oh, ha ha, a little joke.'The man laughed again. ‘I never write.'

‘And you know this girl?' said Detective Inspector Hughes.

‘Is it a-possible that you do
not
know this girl?' demanded the man. ‘Look at her. Do you not arecognise her? She is Tallulah Manderville, the greatest child actor of our time. You should see her cry. It is a-beautiful. Cry for the policeman, Tallulah. Cry.'

‘Er . . .' Holly was unsure how to react. She recognised him as the man who had been following Dirk. She had no idea who he was, but something in his kind, well-worn face made her want to trust him.

‘Cry. Show the officer how good you are,' insisted the man, with a subtle wink in her direction.

So Holly made herself cry as convincingly as she could.

‘Yes, well. That's very good,' said Hughes.

‘Thank you,' said Holly, smiling.

‘You a-see,' said the strange man. ‘She was still in a-character when you met her. Poison blood, very good, Tallulah. Such improvisation. Such a talent.'

Another policeman whispered something in the sergeant's ear and he said, ‘Sir, the divers are ready. Should we send them in?'

‘Divers?' said the man in the wide-brimmed hat. ‘Oh, ha ha,' he laughed. ‘I am so sorry, officers, there is no need for your . . . as you call them, a-divers.'

‘You mean that creature had something to do with you?' said the detective inspector.

‘Oh yes. We are a-making a film. A very important film. A film about people and emotions and struggle and love. It is called
The Big Scary Beast and the Poor Little Orphan
. Working title, of course. You've met the orphan, Miss Manderville. And you have obviously a-seen the big scary beast.'

The policeman eyed him suspiciously. ‘Where are the cameras, then?'

‘All over there,' said the man. ‘All on the other side of the river and I am furious with them all.' He looked across the river, where crowds of people had gathered, and shouted, ‘Furious! You hear that, Matteo?' Speaking again to the policeman he said,
‘It's going to set us back days.'Then he shouted again, ‘Matteo, you are a nincompoop! I said do not start the creature up until my a-say so.' ‘So that creature was . . .'

‘A model, yes. That's right. Magnificent, isn't she? Built entirely from a-plasticine. Isn't it amazing what they can do these days?'

ʹ‘But how come we didn't know about it? Have you got a permit to film?'

‘A permit? Yes, of course we have a permit. My assistant Matteo has it. I will make him fax it to you first thing tomorrow morning then I will fire the fool.'

‘Now, sir, you've cost us a lot of wasted time, not to mention terrifying half the local residents.'

The man turned to address the people on the other side of the bank and yelled, ‘You hear that, Matteo, you idiot? You'll be making catfood commercials for the rest of your short career!'

‘Right, I see. Well, Mr . . . er . . .'

‘Firenze. Alfonso Firenze! Are you sure you have not a-heard of me? I am very a-talented.'

‘Er, I don't know. Did you do that one with the giant centipede?'

‘Giant Centipede? How dare you, that was Alfredo
Fintenze. I would never stoop to such low-budget tat. Centipede . . . pah!'

‘OK, come on, sergeant,' said Detective Inspector Hughes. ‘Let's go. False alarm.'

‘What about the divers, sir?' asked the sergeant.

‘Never mind that. We better go and dispel the panic, explain to everyone it was just a movie prop. Just as I suspected.'

‘Right, sir,' replied the sergeant, and then shouted, ‘Everyone out. False alarm.'

Detective Inspector Hughes bowed and said, ‘It's a pleasure to have met you, Miss Manderville.' He shook the hand of the man in the wide-brimmed hat and said, ‘I look forward to the movie, sir.
The Big Scary Beast and the
... er ...'

‘
The Poor Little Orphan
, yes. Just a working title. A-thank you! A-thank you. So sorry for the inconvenience. So sorry,' said the man, and the policemen got back into their cars and drove away, leaving Holly and the man alone.

‘Who are you?' she said.

‘My name's Ladbroke Blake,' he said in a low gravelly voice. ‘I was hired by your mother to follow you.'

‘My dad's wife,' corrected Holly. ‘Are you going to tell her about all this?'

‘You think she'd believe me? No, I'll tell her something. I just haven't figured out just what yet.'

From the river came a splash and a gasp for breath. Holly looked and saw Dirk crawl on to the bank and collapse on the ground.

‘Dirk!' exclaimed Holly, diving to his side.

‘A dragon,' said Ladbroke, unable to hide his surprise.

‘You did it, Dirk. You did it,' she said, but Dirk didn't respond. She turned to Ladbroke. ‘Please, we need to get him home.'

‘I'll get the car,' said the detective.

Dirk Dilly was awoken from his fitful sleep by something damp and rough rubbing itself on his face. He forced his eyes open to find a black cat with a white face and a black smudge on its nose licking him. He picked Willow off his belly and put her down.

He was in his office. His head thumped. He groaned in pain.

He crawled to the desk and looked at the piles of newspapers there. He picked up one and read.

In scenes that could have come straight from the latest Hollywood blockbuster, terrified East London residents thought a gigantic sea monster had emerged from the River Thames last night. The local constabulary were called and even shot at the monster before it was revealed that it was nothing more than a movie model that had got out of control. Detective Inspector Jack Hughes, one of the first to arrive on the scene said, ‘The local residents were panicking, but as soon as I got a good look at it I could tell that it was in fact a mechanical device. When you've worked on the force as long as I have there's not much that you haven't seen. There was never any doubt in my mind that this was some sort of stunt gone wrong.'

Dirk picked up another and read:

The mystery of the missing cats that has been perplexing the police over the last few weeks was finally solved when local allotment owner Len Cooper discovered hundreds of cats on a disused cargo boat on the north bank of the River Thames while looking for vegetables that had been stolen from his allotment. ‘I've heard of Puss in Boots,' Mr Cooper told us, ‘but this was a case of Puss in Boats.'

Then he read another:

Following an anonymous tip-off, the police have finally caught the perpetrators of the mysterious catnapping crimes. Mr Arthur Holt and Mr Reginald Norman are currently being held in custody. Although both men deny any involvement, forensic tests showed that the cats had all been transported in the back of a van registered in Mr Holt's name, while Mr Norman's fingerprints identified him as the driver of the van.

The two men's motives are so far unknown although Mr Holt's lawyer has released this statement: ‘Arthur Holt denies any charges of cat theft levelled against him as he has long since suffered from a condition known as felinophobia, a fear of cats and all things catlike, which he contracted while holidaying on the Isle of Man.' Mr Norman's lawyer issued the statement: ‘Reg says he didn't know nothing about no cats.'

Dirk put down the papers and peeked through the blinds at the street below. Across the road, leaning on a lamp-post, was the man in the wide-brimmed hat. Ladbroke Blake. But if he was still following Holly then where was she?

‘Mister Dilly?' called the familiar voice of Mrs Klingerflim, knocking on the door. ‘Your niece is
here. She's bringing you some of my home-made medicine.'

‘Thanks, Mrs K,' said Holly, entering the room, holding a brown bottle.

Dirk looked at her and smiled. ‘I'm not drinking that stuff again,' he said. ‘It tastes worse than Amphiptere blood.'

‘Dirk!' she exclaimed. ‘You're better.' She ran across the room and threw her arms round his neck.

Dirk returned the hug, then got embarrassed and said, ‘All right, let's not get all sentimental. You're still being followed, you know.'

‘Ladbroke? Yes, he gave me a lift. It's quite handy being followed by somebody with a car. He gets to keep a close eye on me and I get a lift from someone who can actually see the road.'

‘How long have I been out?' he asked.

‘A whole week this time. I've been so worried. I'm glad you're OK. They found the rest of the cats.'

‘Yes, I just read that,' said Dirk. ‘Mandy must have been sneaking them across the river when the Kinghorns weren't looking.'

‘So what was she eating?'

‘My guess is that she could reach far enough to pinch vegetables from the allotments on the other side.'

‘Then her blood hadn't turned to gas at all?'

‘Exactly, otherwise when I bit into her tail I would have seen bubbles instead of liquid.'

‘So what would have happened if the police had hit her?'

‘Her blood would have infected the water. Bad for the fish, but it wouldn't have taken to the air as the Kinghorns planned.'

‘So we didn't save London?' said Holly, trying not to sound too disappointed.

‘We saved much more than that. If the police had got their hands on that Amphiptere's body, humans would finally know about dragonkind. We would stop being the thing of myths and stories and become the thing of science and exploration. They would start hunting dragons with as much vigour as they did in the Middle Ages, only this time armed with sonar, radar, guns and missiles. It would have been the beginning of the war. Together we stopped that, not to mention saving a perfectly innocent Amphiptere called Mandy.'