‘This way!’ Mr Tucker limped off.
The children followed with Mimi. Atticus brought up the rear. Thick green moss squelched beneath his paws. Everything about this place was damp and gloomy. Even the stones, which stuck up here and there like grey teeth through the long grass, were covered with lichen.
‘Look!’ Mimi pointed at one of the stones. It had writing on it.
Atticus’s green eyes grew round. It was a gravestone. They were all gravestones! He felt a rising panic. He was surrounded by dead Tofflys! His chewed ear drooped.
‘This is it!’ Mr Tucker pushed back some tree branches.
The little group stopped dead.
Ahead of them was a marble pyramid. In front of the pyramid, as if they were guarding it, sat two large stone statues of cats.
‘Howard Toffly’s crypt!’ Michael breathed.
Atticus stared. There was something familiar about this place. And yet, how could there be? He’d never been here before in his life! He reached out a paw and touched one of the statues gingerly. He felt a flash of energy run through his paw as if he’d had an electric shock. He jumped back, startled. ‘Mimi!’ he hissed. ‘The statue!’
‘What about it?’ Mimi asked.
‘I don’t know. I thought I felt something when I touched it.’
Mimi touched the statue carefully. She shook her head. ‘It’s just stone.’
Atticus felt stupid. This place was really getting to him.
‘Come on.’ The pyramid had a thick wooden door. It was ajar. Mr Tucker fished in his pocket for a torch and pushed it open. The door creaked. The children stepped in after Mr Tucker. The cats followed. ‘Give me a minute,’ Mr Tucker said, flashing the torch beam around. ‘While I fires up me generator. I’s just need to change the shaaarrrk faaarrrt bottle.’
Shark fart was also the fuel Mr Tucker used to power his fishing boat.
Callie, Michael, Mimi and Atticus stood silently in the gloom while Mr Tucker rattled about with the shark fart canister. Callie reached for Michael’s hand. Mimi reached for Atticus’s paw.
POOOOOOF!
Suddenly the crypt was filled with light.
They were in a small chamber with an earth floor and marble walls.
The children and the cats stared in astonishment at Mr Tucker’s experiments. None of them had expected anything like this. Three picnic tables stood in the middle of the chamber, crowded with strange apparatus connected up with tubes. Colourful potions bubbled and fizzed. Clouds of blue gas puffed from a pair of bellows. Weird-looking ingredients spilled from painted jars. Above the picnic tables light bulbs dangled off a looping wire.
‘This is me laboratory!’ Mr Tucker said.
‘Where’s Howard Toffly’s tomb?’ Callie whispered nervously.
‘Through there, I suppose.’ Mr Tucker pointed to another door in the wall at the back of the chamber. ‘But don’t worry, youze can’t get in.’ He chuckled. ‘And he can’t get out!’
Atticus was relieved to see that the second door was padlocked.
‘Where did you get all those jars?’ Michael asked.
‘I’s found them lying about on the flooorrr,’ Mr Tucker said. ‘They’re Ancient Egyptian biscuit tins.’
‘No they’re not! They’re canopic jars,’ Michael told him. ‘The Ancient Egyptians kept people’s brains in them when a corpse was mummified.’
‘Oh!’ Mr Tucker flicked his false teeth in and out. ‘I thought that custard cream I had yesterday was a bit soggy.’
Atticus felt sick.
‘Anyways this is what I’s working on at the moment!’ Mr Tucker said proudly. On one of the picnic tables was a Bunsen burner with a stand around it. Sitting on top of the stand was a glass beaker full of sludge with plastic tubes going in and out in all directions to other bits of equipment.
‘Cool!’ Michael walked towards it. ‘Can you show us how it works?’
‘All right.’ Mr Tucker lit the Bunsen burner. He handed round four pairs of safety goggles. ‘Put these on,’ he ordered.
The children and the two cats put them on. Atticus was worried he looked a bit silly but luckily Mimi was too busy watching the experiment to notice.
The contents of the glass beaker started bubbling.
HISS! SPIT! BANG!
The sludge changed from grey to orange to purple.
Drops of liquid dripped in from some of the tubes. Gas ballooned up into others.
‘It’s me beard-jumper potion,’ Mr Tucker explained.
‘What’s in it?’ Callie asked.
‘Thumpers’ Traditional Beard Grow, mainly,’ Mr Tucker said, ‘With a pinch of sea salt, saaarrrdine brains, some fabric conditioner, an old sock, cod liver oil, a few flakes of dandruff, a bit of gunpowder and a lock of me old beard-jumper. Then I adds some different beard dyes to get the right colour.’
Mimi looked at Atticus and pulled a face. Atticus tried wriggling an eyebrow back but the plastic safety goggles got in the way.
‘Does it work?’ Michael asked, fascinated.
‘Sort of!’ Mr Tucker said. He sat down on a bench and took off his shoe. ‘I tried it on me big toe,’ he said, peeling off a green-and-blue-striped sock. ‘It’s as hairy as a pirate’s chest. And me sock’s involved too, which is good. The only trouble is, me toe’s gone stripy!’
‘Meow!’ Mimi put her paw to her mouth to stop herself laughing. Atticus tried wriggling the other eyebrow.
Mr Tucker’s hairy toe was covered in wiry green and blue sock. Either that or Mr Tucker’s sock was covered in wiry green and blue toe hair. It was hard to tell them apart.
‘That’s why I needs me notebook!’ Mr Tucker said glumly. ‘I need to tweak me measures before I try it with a jumper on me chin.’ He pulled his sock and shoe back on.
‘Is that all that was left of your old beard-jumper?’ Callie asked. The remains of a white fleece were stuffed into a large canopic jar beneath one of the tables.
‘Aye!’ Mr Tucker said sadly. ‘Me beauty!’ Suddenly his face changed. He grinned. He guffawed. ‘That’s where me notebook is!’ he cried. ‘I remember now! I wanted to keep it dry so I hid it in there and put me beard-jumper on top of it!’ He did a little jig and broke into a sea shanty.
‘I’m as happy as a hake with scabies,
I don’t care if me dog’s got rabies …’
‘Did you use feathers in the experiment?’ Michael interrupted. He bent down beside the jar.
Mr Tucker stopped singing. ‘No. Why?’
‘Because there are some here.’ Michael pointed to a few black-and-white feathers that lay on the ground. Some were edged with blue. Others had a greenish tinge.
‘It’s those mangy magpies!’ Mr Tucker yelled, pulling the fleece out. The canopic jar was empty. ‘They’ve stolen me notebook!’
‘But they’re in Siberia!’ Callie protested. ‘With Zenia Klob and Ginger Biscuit.’
‘Not any more, they’s not!’ Mr Tucker hopped up and down in fury. ‘They’s back. The Tofflys must have tipped Klob off about the treasure.’
Atticus was listening carefully. The magpies! So they were back. His hunch had been right! They were the ones trying to frame the kittens. Now he knew why. They wanted to create a diversion and put him and Inspector Cheddar off the scent while they went after Howard Toffly’s Ancient Egyptian book! And if the magpies had been here, then Klob and Biscuit couldn’t be far away.
He glanced towards the locked door that led to Howard Toffly’s tomb. The ancient book was still in there, somewhere. Once the villains found out they’d stolen the wrong one, they’d be back.
Suddenly Atticus felt a strange sensation, as if he were being pulled towards the locked door. He walked towards it in a trance. He had to protect the book.
‘Atticus,’ Mimi hissed. ‘What are you doing? We have to go. It’s time to pick up Mrs Tucker.’
Atticus stopped, confused. He looked back. The kids and Mr Tucker had gone outside. He hadn’t even noticed that Mr Tucker had swi
tched off the lights. Mimi was waiting for him. He turned and tried to lift his paws. It was a huge effort: as if he was wading through glue. His paws seemed determined to take him in the other direction: away from Mimi, towards Howard Toffly’s tomb and the ancient book.
‘Atticus!’ Michael stepped back into the pyramid to look for him.
‘Atticus!’ So did Callie.
Atticus struggled towards them. His legs were like jelly.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Michael whispered.
Atticus wished he knew himself.
‘He looks like he needs help.’ Callie moved forward and picked him up. She carried him to the door and put him down gently outside.
Michael stroked him.
Atticus purred weakly.
‘Come on, youze lot!’ Mr Tucker shouted. ‘And don’t tell a dover soul about this. If Mrs Tucker finds out what I’ve been doing, she’ll make me cook me own liver for me tea.’
‘Coming!’ The children hurried off.
The cats followed.
‘You sure you’re all right?’ Mimi whispered.
‘Yes.’ Atticus was beginning to feel a bit better. He had regained control of his paws.
‘I hate this place,’ Mimi shivered. ‘Don’t you?’
Atticus said nothing. He didn’t want to worry Mimi, but he knew he had to come back to the island as soon as he got the chance. It was as if some strange inner voice was commanding him to return. Whatever happened, he had to stop Klob, Biscuit and the magpies getting hold of Howard Toffly’s book. Even if it meant stealing it himself.
Meanwhile, at the caravan park, the magpies were poring over a small hardback book full of strange writing. Zenia, Biscuit and the Tofflys were out at the travel agent’s booking cheap flights to Egypt.
‘I didn’t know they had W. H. Smith in Ancient Egypt,’ Slasher said, inspecting the cover.
‘They didn’t,’ Thug said self-importantly. He was the one who’d discovered the notebook under the remains of Mr Tucker’s beard-jumper and he was showing off. ‘It’s code for something else, like “open this and you’re dead”.’
‘Why aren’t we dead?’ Gizzard clutched his throat. ‘I thought the Tofflys said the cat pharaoh would munch us when we stole the book.’
‘Derr!’ Thug jeered. ‘Weren’t you listening to what Lord Fatso said?’ He looked pained. ‘Because we’re so evil, we didn’t offend the cat pharaoh’s pal Anubis, stupid! We’re a bad omen – like him. He loves us. We’re Nube’s mates. We’re his new bessies.’
‘All right, Thug, keep your feathers on.’ Gizzard pulled an even uglier face than the hideous one he already had. ‘I get it.’
‘I thought the Ancient Egyptians used hieroglyphs.’ Jimmy looked at the W. H. Smith logo suspiciously. ‘You know, pictures of things instead of words?’
‘Don’t worry, it’s full of those, Boss,’ Thug said eagerly. He opened the book. ‘See?’
Jimmy flicked through the pages. There were other equations and drawings of peculiar things in bottles including large measures of Thumpers’ Traditional Beard Grow.
‘Thumpers’ …’ Jimmy said doubtfully. Zenia had used Thumpers’ Traditional Beard Dye on their raven suits for the Crown Jewels job. ‘You sure they’ve been around for four thousand years, Thug?’
‘That’s why they call it “traditional”, Boss.’ Thug rolled his eyes at Slasher. He wanted to say ‘Derr!’ again, but remembered just in time it was Jimmy he was talking to.
‘Hmmm …’ Jimmy blinked. ‘How does any of this tell us where to find the lost city of Nebu-Mau?’
‘I reckon they’re spells,’ Thug said. ‘You have to do them to find out how to get there.’ Thug swished his wings across his face like a magician’s cloak then peeled them back, feather by feather. ‘Magracadabra!’ he cried, gazing upward. ‘The path to the golden city is revealed.’
‘Maybe there’ll be a bright star in the sky?’ Gizzard suggested.
‘Or a washing line leading the all the way there,’ Pig said.
‘With clean pants on it!’ Thug cackled.
‘Or a trail of bird poo,’ Wally said. ‘Like in Hansel and Gretel.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Wal,’ Slasher cawed. ‘It was breadcrumbs in Hansel and Gretel, not bird poo.’
Jimmy had reached a decision. ‘Let’s do it.’ His eyes gleamed. He examined the drawings in the book closely. ‘Pig, put the cooker on.’
Pig flapped on to the kitchen counter and twisted a knob beneath the hob with his beak.
‘Shouldn’t we wait for Zenia and Biscuit?’ Slasher said nervously.
‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’ Jimmy flew at Slasher. His plumage had regained its normal sheen since they’d left Siberia. He was every inch the gruesome gang leader he had once been.
‘Sorry, Boss! I didn’t mean it!’ Slasher hid behind the other magpies. ‘Don’t stamp on my hooked foot. Please!’
‘Then watch your beak and let me do the thinking round here,’ Jimmy hissed. ‘Don’t you see? If Thug managed to steal Howard Toffly’s book without bringing the curse down on us, we can find the golden city on our own. We don’t need Klob, Biscuit and the Tofflys. It’s us magpies who’ll get the treasure. Not humans. Or cats.’ He spat the words out as if they were lemon pips.
‘This is our chance to get revenge for Beaky!’ Slasher cried. Now he understood.
‘And on Klob for making me clean her poo-bucket!’ Thug chuckled.
‘And on Biscuit for juggling with us!’ Pig screeched.
‘What about Claw?’ Gizzard asked.
‘We’ll mash him later,’ Jimmy said. ‘When we’ve got the treasure. Maybe we can conjure up a curse for him. Like being pecked to death by crows or something. Now let’s get on with it.’
‘Which spell, Boss?’ Thug asked.
‘Er …’ Jimmy hesitated. ‘Let’s try the one with the sock.’
‘We don’t have any hair,’ Wally complained.
‘We can use a bit of Biscuit’s,’ Slasher suggested. ‘He moults all over the place.’ He collected some off the carpet in his beak.
‘We’ll have to use pike instead of sardine,’ Gizzard said. ‘It’s the only fish we’ve got.’
‘Pike’s stronger,’ Thug said. ‘Trust me, it’ll be even better.’
‘What about the fish oil?’ Pig asked.
‘Let’s squeeze some out of the pike’s brains,’ Jimmy flexed his claws.
The magpies assembled the ingredients and placed them on top of the kitchen counter. Luckily Zenia had an old sock that she wore over her head for her bank robber disguise, which Pig found in the washing machine. They put everything into a saucepan and pushed the pan on to the cooker.
Soon the pike head went soggy and mashed into the oil and salt. Together with the hair it made a pleasantly smelly, sticky mixture, but the sock remained stubbornly sock-like.
‘We need something to dissolve it,’ Jimmy chattered. ‘It’s no good like that. I’ll bet that’s what the Thumpers’ Traditional Beard Grow is for.’
‘What about some feather dye remover?’ Wally suggested. ‘There’s some left over from the Crown Jewels job. It’s under the sink.’
‘All right,’ Jimmy agreed. ‘Let’s give it a try.’
Soon the mixture looked even better. The sock didn’t exactly dissolve, but all the colour came out instead and turned everything sludge brown.
‘So …’ Jimmy eyed the gang. ‘Who’s going to volunteer?’
All the magpies took a step back.
‘I vote Thug should do it,’ Gizzard said, ‘seeing as how he found the book.’
‘Yeah! It’s like he’s the chosen one,’ Slasher agreed. ‘No offence, Jimmy,’ he added hastily.
‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’ The other magpies hopped about in agreement.
‘What do you say, Thug?’ Jimmy put his head on one side and blinked.
‘All right.’ Thug sighed extravagantly. ‘If you think it’s my duty.’ He gazed skyward at the ca
ravan ceiling. ‘Oh great Egyptian bird god, Horus, bring me your magical wisdom!’ he prayed. ‘Let me be the special magpie who discovers the lost city of Nebu-Mau without getting crushed by the curse of the cat pharaoh or bashed by my new bessie, Nube!’
‘How does he know so much about it?’ Pig whispered to Wally.
‘Magpiedia,’ Wally explained. ‘He’s been on the Internet.’
‘Nicely put, Thug.’ Jimmy gave him a pat. His eyes glittered. ‘Now drink it.’
Thug dipped his beak into the saucepan and slurped up some of the mixture. ‘Not bad!’ he said. ‘A bit like stewed worm.’ He took another slurp. ‘Could do with more salt though.’
‘Can you feel any wisdom coming on?’ Slasher asked.
‘Not yet.’ Thug polished off the mixture and sat back, waiting. He closed his eyes. Suddenly they pinged wide open. His feathers shook.
‘Something’s happening!’ Jimmy said. ‘Stand back!’
BOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFF!
Thug keeled over.
The other magpies stared.
‘Oops,’ said Wally.
Just then the caravan door opened.
‘Vot are you doing?’ Zenia screeched. ‘Vy is that magpie orange?’
Thug’s feathers had turned the colour of Ginger Biscuit’s fur.
Zenia Klob prodded Thug with a skewer. ‘And vy are its legs all hairy?’ she demanded.
Thug’s legs were covered in wiry ginger hair. Somehow the hair had got mixed up with the feathers on his bottom, or the other way around. It looked as though Thug was wearing a hairy pair of orange feather pants. Or a feathery pair of orange hair pants.
‘Vait a minute!’ Zenia spied the notebook. ‘Vot’s this?!’ She grabbed it and flicked it open. Her eyeballs popped. ‘You tried to trick me, didn’t you, you naughty birdies?’ she shrieked. ‘Thought you’d try to vork out how to get the lost treasure for yourselves vile Ginger and I veren’t looking!’ She reached for the hairpins. ‘Traitors!’ she screeched. ‘Biscuit, you know vot to do.’
‘GGGGGGRRRRRR!’ Ginger Biscuit advanced on the magpies.
‘Goodbye, cruel world,’ Thug whispered. He held out his orange wings at full stretch. ‘I’m coming, Nube! Prepare to receive the chosen one! I’m ready to embrace death!’
Atticus Claw Lends a Paw Page 4
