Atticus Claw On the Misty Moor

by Jennifer Gray

  ‘You saw them?’ Lady Jemima glanced at Inspector Cheddar shrewdly. ‘So where’s Peregrine now?’

  Atticus tensed. If Lady Jemima found them hiding in the boathouse standing guard over her precious falcon, she’d set Chomper on them.

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Inspector Cheddar bravely.

  Atticus was touched. Inspector Cheddar never ever lied. It was one of his golden rules. But he’d done it this time to protect the cats. Luckily Lady Jemima didn’t seem to notice that Inspector Cheddar’s face had gone a guilty shade of beetroot.

  Instead she shrugged. ‘He’ll turn up at some point, I suppose.’

  ‘What are you going to do with us?’ Mrs Tucker demanded.

  ‘Leave you somewhere in the cellars,’ said Lady Jemima promptly. ‘Meanwhile I shall blast the roof off the treasure chamber with dynamite, remove the gold through the kitchen and get the builders to start on Monday. If you manage to find a way out by then, I shall tell people you got lost trying to steal my gold and have you arrested; if you don’t, you’ll become part of the foundations for the new bingo park.’

  ‘You fiend!’ said Inspector Cheddar. ‘I expected more of a Dumpling.’

  Lady Jemima gave him a filthy look. ‘Life’s a gamble,’ she said. ‘I won. You lost. Now pace it out.’ She consulted the map. ‘It’s twenty-five steps from the boathouse.’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘I’ll shoot you.’

  ‘One, two, three, four …’

  Inspector Cheddar did as he was told.

  The others followed, Lady Jemima and Chomper bringing up the rear.

  ‘GRRRRRRRRRR …’ Luckily the stink coming from Inspector Cheddar seemed to have affected the panther’s sense of smell. It walked past the boathouse without catching the scent of the cats hiding inside.

  But Lady Jemima hadn’t forgotten about them. ‘By the way, where are those cats of yours?’ Her voice drifted back on the breeze.

  ‘Er …’ said Inspector Cheddar.

  Oh no! thought Atticus. He can’t tell two lies in a row.

  ‘They got lost,’ Michael said quickly. ‘On the moor.’

  ‘Good,’ said Lady Jemima.

  ‘Pssssssst!’ A soft voice behind him made Atticus jump. The wildcat was at his shoulder. ‘Follow them,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and get help.’

  ‘Who from?’ asked Atticus.

  ‘The clan,’ the wildcat replied. And with a flip of her tail she was gone.

  Meanwhile, in the cellar under the kitchen …

  *

  Thug and Slasher were having an even worse time than the horrible time they’d been having since they first arrived at the Crow Brigade Army Training Camp.

  Being stuck in a cellar underneath Biggnaherry Castle with a crew of belching, coughing, knuckle-cracking, dirty-joke-telling, farting, fight-picking, feather-pecking members of the Corvus family made the workout on the slippery rock, the early-morning swim in the freezing-cold loch and the rub-down with the prickly sock seem like a fun day out.

  The rest of the birds were waiting for payment for their part in Peregrine’s knockout Plan B. Only Thug and Slasher knew the truth about what was going to happen to them. But Jimmy had told them to hold off spilling the beans until he gave the word. And Thug and Slasher always did what their boss told them.

  ‘I don’t remember signing up for this,’ Thug complained bitterly as a large jackdaw sat on his tail and passed wind.

  ‘Me neither,’ said Slasher, as a raven burped in his face. ‘If I don’t get out of this dump in a minute I’ll go mad.’

  Thug managed a chuckle. ‘’Ere, Slash, you know what that will make you, don’t you?’

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘A MAD-pie. Get it?’ Thug punched him on the wing. ‘Ha ha!’

  ‘Ha ha!’ Slasher punched him back.

  ‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’

  ‘Chaka-chacka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’

  As was usual at times of stress, the two magpies (or should it be mad-pies?) fell to squabbling.

  ‘Stop it, you two!’

  Thug and Slasher looked up.

  The cellar had a little window high up in the wall. The window was fitted with bars. It was between these that Jimmy Magpie’s face now appeared.

  ‘Jimmy!’ Thug cried. He fluttered up to the narrow ledge and took a gulp of fresh air.

  ‘Do you know where the treasure is yet, Boss?’ Slasher landed on the ledge beside Thug.

  ‘Not quite yet,’ Jimmy admitted.

  ‘How come?’ Thug asked in bewilderment.

  ‘Because Peregrine’s knockout Plan B just got knocked out,’ said Jimmy sourly. ‘By Atticus Claw and that cheesy Inspector friend of his.’

  ‘Claw?!’ Slasher gasped. ‘What’s he doing here?’

  ‘It turns out Inspector Cheese is a Dumpling,’ Jimmy told him. He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Looks like we’ve got competition, boys; Claw and his cronies are after the treasure too.’

  ‘No way!’

  ‘Yeah.’ Jimmy quickly told them about the treasure map and how Lady Jemima was holding the other treasure hunters captive at gunpoint. ‘Only none of them have reckoned on the Crow Brigade.’ He tapped at the bars. ‘We’ll get everyone out through here.’

  The window looked out into the well at the back of the castle where the stone steps finished.

  ‘Prepare for mutiny, boys.’ He jerked his head towards the waiting birds. ‘It’s time to tell your army pals what Peregrine and his boss really have planned for them.’

  ‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’

  Thug and Slasher flew down and began to spread the word.

  The entrance to the secret tunnel was concealed in the bank behind some twisted tree roots and thick clumps of grass. Without Stewart Dumpling’s map, Atticus thought, it would have remained hidden from the humans forever.

  ‘After you,’ Lady Jemima said, waving the pistol.

  The humans crawled into the tunnel, two abreast.

  Atticus, Mimi and Bones crept cautiously along behind them. They couldn’t risk getting too close in case Chomper saw them but equally they couldn’t fall too far behind for fear of getting lost.

  Atticus felt claustrophobic. The secret tunnel was damp. It was also extremely smelly, mainly thanks to Inspector Cheddar and Great-Uncle Archie’s cat repellent. Very soon they reached a junction where the tunnel divided into three. Not long after that they came across another junction where the tunnel divided again, then another and another. A maze was one way to describe the system of cellars; a rabbit warren was another. It was as complicated as the diagram of Inspector Cheddar’s family tree. Even with the help of the treasure map, the leading group was having trouble. They only had torches to guide them, not sharp see-in-the-dark eyes like the cats did.

  Atticus wished the wildcats would come. From time to time he thought he heard the brush of paws, but when he looked back he couldn’t see anything. Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe the wildcats weren’t coming after all. Maybe his friend from the moor had just promised to gather the clan so that she could get away.

  ‘Don’t worry, Atticus,’ Mimi whispered, as though reading his thoughts. ‘She won’t let you down. She trusted you. You should trust her.’

  Lady Jemima’s voice interrupted Atticus’s thoughts. ‘Hooray!’ she cried. ‘We made it.’ They had reached the chamber where the treasure was buried.

  The three cats peeped into the room. The chamber had been carved out of the earth. The walls and floor were bare. Atticus imagined Domplagan sitting on his own on the dirt floor counting the Roman money, planning how he was going to spend it.

  ‘We must be right under the castle,’ Bones guessed aloud.

  The humans had gathered around a great flagstone in the middle of the floor. Chomper stood outside the circle, pawing the ground impatiently.

  ‘Open it,’ Lady Jemima said to Debs.

  Debs gave her a dirty look.

  ‘Do it!’ hissed Lady Jemima,
fingering the trigger. ‘Or Don’s sporran is toast.’

  Debs took hold of the flagstone and slid it to one side.

  ‘Shine the light inside,’ ordered Lady Jemima.

  Don pointed his torch at the hole in the ground. The chamber was filled with a warm yellow glow, like sunshine, as the beam of light reflected off the gold.

  ‘Finally!’ Lady Jemima dropped to her knees and peered over the edge of the hole. ‘It’s mine!’ she cried, picking up great handfuls of coins and letting them trickle through her fingers. ‘Mine! Mine! Mine! Biggnaherry Bingo Park, here we come!’

  Lady Jemima seemed to Atticus to be overwhelmed with greed. It was horrible to watch. No wonder the wildcats wanted to stop any of Domplagan’s descendants getting their hands on the gold, he thought. They were all the same: as soon as they saw it they became mean and nasty and corrupt. Maybe even Lord Stewart wouldn’t have kept his word about turning the moor into a sanctuary for the wildcats. Who knew what would actually have happened if he hadn’t drowned in the loch?

  ‘It’s not yours,’ Michael shouted at Lady Jemima. ‘You’re a crook. If it belongs to anyone, it’s Dad’s. He’ll be next in line to the Dumpling fortune once you’re in prison.’

  This thought didn’t seem to have occurred to Inspector Cheddar before. Suddenly his eyes took on a greedy, cunning expression. His face was bathed in golden light as he leant over the pit next to Lady Jemima, his eyes fixed on the treasure.

  ‘Mine …’ he whispered.

  Oh no! Atticus thought. Now it was happening to him too!

  ‘Darling, what on earth is wrong with you?’ asked Mrs Cheddar in alarm.

  ‘It must be the Dumpling in him,’ Mrs Tucker hissed. ‘As soon as they get a whiff of the gold they go crazy.’

  ‘I knew this would happen,’ Lady Jemima screamed. ‘Chomper! Get him!’

  Chomper stalked towards Inspector Cheddar. The Inspector leapt to his feet. ‘Here, kitty, kitty,’ he purred, extracting something from his pocket.

  ‘Do you think we should help him?’ asked Bones uncertainly.

  ‘Definitely not,’ said Atticus, squinting at the label. ‘Hold your noses, everybody!’

  ‘Grrrrrrr!’ The panther pounced.

  Inspector Cheddar shook the box. An avalanche of white powder covered Chomper’s black fur. The panther ran for cover along one of the tunnels, whimpering.

  Lady Jemima coughed and spluttered. Face filler streamed out of her ears. ‘Will someone please tell me what that awful smell is?’

  ‘Thumpers’ Traditional Cat Repellent,’ said Inspector Cheddar. He knocked the gun out of her hand with a quick karate chop and kicked it to the side of the chamber. ‘Do you give up yet?’

  ‘Never!’ Lady Jemima’s hands closed round Inspector Cheddar’s throat. ‘It’s my gold!’ she screamed.

  ‘No, it’s not, you greedy witch, it’s my gold!’ Inspector Cheddar closed his hands round Lady Jemima’s throat.

  The two of them toppled into the pit.

  ‘No, it’s not!’ An angry chattering rang round the chamber. ‘It’s ours.’

  Jimmy Magpie flew into the chamber with Thug and Slasher. They were followed by a great flock of angry birds. They swooped towards the gold.

  ‘Watch out, everyone!’ Mrs Tucker shouted as the birds filled the chamber. ‘The magpies and their mates are back. Don’t let them peck you.’

  The humans crouched down, their hands covering their heads as the birds flapped and squawked.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mimi. ‘Now what are we going to do?’

  ‘Don’t youze have something to scare them off with, Edna?’ Mr Tucker roared.

  Mrs Tucker normally carried useful gadgets in her basket, just in case.

  ‘It’s Christmas,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘I’m supposed to be on holiday.’

  ‘Wait, I’ve got an idea!’ Michael said. ‘Mum’s lipstick! The one you gave her as a present!’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Mrs Cheddar. ‘I’ve got it somewhere.’ She searched about in her pockets. ‘Here.’ She handed it to Mrs Tucker.

  ‘Take cover, everyone!’ Mrs Tucker took off the cap and pointed the lipstick towards the flock of birds.

  Atticus, Mimi and Bones threw themselves to the floor.

  BOOM!

  A bright white firework fizzed out of the lipstick and exploded in a fountain of tiny stars.

  ‘We’re under attack!’ screeched Jimmy.

  ‘Let’s get out of here!’ screamed Slasher.

  ‘Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!’ One of Thug’s tail feathers was on fire.

  The three birds fled back down the tunnel, followed by the rest of the Crow Brigade.

  ‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’

  Their chattering receded down the tunnel. It was met by a familiar hiss.

  ‘Shhheeeeeeeeee!’

  ‘Shhheeeeeeeeee!’

  ‘Shhheeeeeeeeee!’

  ‘Shhheeeeeeeeee!’

  The wildcats. Atticus raised his head. They had come, after all. The beautiful cat from the moor stood beside him. Others gathered behind, at the entrance to the tunnel.

  ‘Look!’ Michael said in awe.

  ‘The wildcats have made friends with Atticus,’ said Callie. She held out her hand.

  ‘Don’t, Callie,’ Don warned. ‘They’re not pets; they’re wild.’

  The humans stood stock-still.

  The wildcat looked impassively at the scene before her. The birds had gone, but Inspector Cheddar and Lady Jemima were still fighting fiercely over the treasure in the pit. ‘It is as we feared,’ the wildcat hissed. ‘The Roman gold always brings trouble. We must scare the humans away. Then we must hide the gold again, in a place that no one will ever find it.’

  She flattened her ears and took a step towards the pit.

  The other wildcats followed her lead. ‘Shhheeeeeee! Shhheeeeeee! Shhheeeeeee!’ they spat.

  Atticus felt alarmed. It was only Lady Jemima who needed frightening away, not Inspector Cheddar! Or at least it would be if he stopped behaving like a greedy Dumpling.

  ‘They won’t hurt Dad, will they, Mum?’ Callie said in a frightened voice.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Mrs Cheddar said.

  Atticus wasn’t so sure. The wildcats were just that: wild. And they believed they were fighting for their lives.

  ‘No!’ Atticus leapt in front of the wildcats.

  The hissing stopped. The leader of the wildcats narrowed her eyes. ‘I thought you were on our side,’ she snarled.

  ‘I am,’ Atticus replied. ‘I promise.’ Mrs Cheddar’s exploding lipstick had given him an idea. ‘I think I know a way to end this forever, without anyone getting harmed.’ Everyone else had used their Christmas presents, except him. Maybe his would work on Inspector Cheddar. ‘Please!’ he said. ‘Just give me a few minutes.’

  ‘Very well,’ the leader of the wildcats agreed.

  The other wildcats stirred restlessly behind her. He didn’t have long.

  Atticus raced over to where Callie and Michael huddled with their mum and Mrs Tucker.

  ‘Atticus!’ Callie gave him a big hug.

  Atticus shook her off. He didn’t want to look soppy in front of the wildcats. He had to look as if he was in charge. His police-cat badge was pinned to his handkerchief. He pawed at it impatiently. ‘Meow!’ he fretted.

  ‘You want us to take it off?’ Michael guessed. ‘But why?’

  Atticus pawed at it again. He didn’t have time to explain now.

  ‘Do what he wants, Michael,’ Mrs Tucker said.

  ‘Okay,’ said Michael. ‘Here.’ Carefully he unpinned Atticus’s police-cat-sergeant badge and laid it on the dirt floor.

  Atticus picked it up in his teeth. Then, being careful that the pin didn’t prick his mouth, he leapt into the treasure pit.

  ‘Mine!’

  ‘Mine!’

  ‘Mine!’

  ‘Mine!’

  ‘Mine!’

  ‘Mine!’

  ‘Mine!�
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  ‘Mine!’

  Lady Jemima and Inspector Cheddar were pelting one another with gold coins. They barely noticed Atticus.

  Greed really was a terrible sin, thought Atticus fleetingly. He vowed never to be greedy again (except when it came to sardines and smokies, which didn’t count). He took the badge in his paw and jabbed Inspector Cheddar hard in the arm with the pin.

  ‘Get off!’ shouted Inspector Cheddar, swiping at Atticus.

  Atticus jabbed him again.

  ‘What is it?’ shouted Inspector Cheddar.

  Atticus jabbed him again.

  ‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’

  Atticus kept jabbing.

  Inspector Cheddar grabbed the badge from Atticus. ‘Mine!’ he shouted in delight. ‘Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!’ He held it up to the light. Atticus’s police-cat badge twinkled back at him brightly. In fact it was much brighter than the mountain of golden coins Inspector Cheddar was perched on because Atticus had been polishing it every morning with the Badge Bright the Inspector had given him for Christmas.

  Suddenly Inspector Cheddar realised what it was. ‘Oh,’ he said. He looked at the bedraggled figure of Lady Jemima. ‘Ah,’ he said. He looked up at the anxious faces staring down at him from the edge of the pit. ‘I see what you mean,’ he said. ‘I’m being an awful chump, aren’t I?’

  Everyone nodded.

  Inspector Cheddar gathered himself. ‘Thank you, Atticus,’ he said. He gave the police-cat badge back to Atticus, emptied his pockets of gold coins and turned back to Lady Jemima. Then he assumed his most policeman-like expression. ‘You’re under arrest,’ he said, producing a pair of handcuffs from somewhere and clamping them round Lady Jemima’s wrists.

  ‘Noooooo!’ she screamed.

  ‘You have a right to remain silent, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you,’ Inspector Cheddar continued. ‘Except “knickers”.’

  ‘This is all your fault.’ Lady Jemima glowered at Atticus. ‘I knew you were tricky.’