Atticus Claw Settles a Score

by Jennifer Gray

  Atticus stalked over to the poo hole and sniffed delicately. A current of air wafted up. It smelt damp but not dirty. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it.’ Gripping on to the edge with his front paws, Atticus lowered his hind legs into the shaft. He scrabbled for a foothold, but the sides of the shaft were smooth.

  ‘It’s not much of a drop,’ Ginger’s face loomed over him. ‘And anyway, you’ve still got eight lives left.’ He put a paw out. Atticus ducked his head. Ginger Biscuit’s claws brushed his chewed ear. ‘For now.’

  For a split second Atticus wondered if it was a trick. Were the ravens really hidden here? Or had Ginger Biscuit lured him to the Bloody Tower to kill him by dropping him down an ancient royal toilet into a four-hundred-year-old pile of putrid poo? It would be just the sort of revolting death Ginger Biscuit would dream up! Atticus felt his front paws start to slip. Just then he heard a faint sound from below.

  ‘Waaarrrk!’

  It was the ravens.

  Atticus closed his eyes. He released his grip. He felt himself plummeting down into the cool earth.

  CRUNCH! He landed with a thud. Checking he hadn’t broken anything, he picked himself up slowly and looked about. He was in a small stone cave, somewhere beneath the Tower: its sides were worn smooth from the time when the water from the moat rushed in and out with the tide. A rusty pipe of about half a metre in diameter opened into it. Opposite him, tethered to a rock, were the six ravens. It was just as Biscuit had described.

  ‘Don’t kill them yet,’ Ginger Biscuit’s voice echoed down the shaft. ‘We need to wait for the electricians. Once we’ve got the jewels on board the barge, I’ll give you the word.’

  ‘Where are you going now?’ Atticus called up.

  ‘Back to the barge to help Zenia,’ Biscuit shouted. ‘Remember, Atticus, if you don’t do the job, I’ll do it myself.’

  The ravens looked at Atticus dolefully. It seemed like all the fight had gone out of them. They probably hadn’t eaten since the morning, Atticus reflected. And being stuffed down a poo hole and tied to a rock by a large ginger tomcat wasn’t good for any bird’s morale.

  ‘And then I’ll kill you.’ Ginger Biscuit’s voice faded away.

  There was silence in the cave. Atticus waited until he was sure Ginger Biscuit had gone and then advanced on the ravens. He stopped in front of the biggest one and popped out his claws.

  ‘You heard what your pal said!’ the raven squawked. ‘You’re not supposed to kill us yet.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Atticus whispered. ‘He’s not my pal. And I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to get you out of here. But you have to promise you’ll help me save the monarchy … er …’

  ‘Georgina,’ the big raven introduced herself. ‘Of course we promise,’ she agreed. ‘But how? We wouldn’t stand a chance against ginger chops in a fight.’

  ‘We’re not going to give him a fight,’ Atticus said calmly. ‘We’re going to give him a fright.’

  The ravens stared at him.

  ‘Ginger Biscuit is afraid of ghosts,’ Atticus explained. ‘When he gives me the signal to kill you, I’m going to pretend that I’ve done it. Then you’re going to pretend to be ghosts.’

  ‘He’ll never fall for that!’ Georgina said. ‘Ghosts are white. We’re black.’

  ‘Not for long, you’re not,’ Atticus grinned. He released the ravens one by one. ‘Wait here until I get back,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ the Georgina asked.

  ‘To get a bottle of Thumpers’ Traditional White Beard Dye,’ Atticus grinned.

  ‘Beard dye?!’ The ravens croaked.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Atticus said. ‘It also works on feathers. You’ll be the scariest ghosts the Tower of London has ever seen!’

  ‘Waarrrk!’ The ravens began to crow excitedly.

  ‘We’re going to give Ginger Biscuit the fright of his furry life!’ Atticus climbed into the opening of the pipe and disappeared.

  The white electricians’ van trundled across the bridge over the moat towards the Tower. The driver opened the window. ‘Raise the portcullis!’ he shouted. ‘We’ve come to disarm the security system.’

  There was a clunking and grinding as the huge metal grille was winched upwards. The van driver swallowed. Lethal-looking spikes poked down from the bottom like a row of giant daggers.

  ‘Watch out, Dad,’ a voice from the back of the van warned, ‘in case she drops it on the van.’

  ‘That’s what they used to do in the old days,’ another voice whispered. ‘Then they’d pour boiling oil all over you.’

  ‘Shhh,’ the person in the passenger seat put a finger to her lips. ‘Let Dad do the talking.’

  The van trundled on along the cobbled street past the opening that Atticus and Ginger Biscuit had recently passed through. It turned left through a second archway, wide enough for a vehicle. The driver inched his way towards the Jewel House and stopped the van. ‘This is it,’ he whispered. ‘Ready?’

  The three passengers nodded. Quietly the four electricians, dressed in baggy blue overalls and matching baseball caps pulled down over their ears, got out of the van. They began to unload large plastic toolboxes from the back.

  ‘Where is she?’ the driver whispered, picking up two of the boxes and carting them up the steps.

  ‘I’M OVER HERE!’ Zenia Klob’s voice rang round the courtyard. ‘VERE YOU CAN’T SEE ME!’

  ‘She’s using a megaphone!’ the second electrician hissed.

  ‘YOU’RE RIGHT: I AM USING A MEGAPHONE. AND MY SUPER-RECEPTIVE HEARING AID, WHICH IS VY I CAN HEAR EVERYTHING YOU SAY.’ The cackle came again. ‘VOT’S IN THE BOXES?’ Zenia Klob demanded.

  ‘Tools!’ the driver shouted back. ‘We need them to sort out the electrical malfunction.’

  ‘YOU’D BETTER NOT BE LYING,’ Zenia Klob yelled, ‘OR IT’LL BE YOU THAT’LL HAVE A MALFUNCTION.’

  ‘We’re not lying!’ the driver yelled back. He hoped Zenia Klob couldn’t see his fingers were crossed behind his back. ‘The Queen sent us.’ He turned to the others. ‘Come on, royal team.’

  The other electricians followed him towards the Jewel House.

  ‘NOT SO FAST, SPARKY!’ Zenia screeched. ‘YOU NEED TO VAIT FOR BISCUIT. HE’S COMING VITH YOU TO MAKE SURE YOU DON’T TRY ANYTHING FUNNY.’

  The driver swallowed. ‘I … er …’ he mumbled.

  ‘VOT VOS THAT YOU SAID? I DIDN’T QUITE CATCH IT.’

  ‘HE CAN’T!’ the second electrician shouted hastily. ‘No cats allowed on the premises while we’re working.’

  ‘VY NOT?’ Zenia Klob sounded suspicious.

  ‘HEALTH AND SAFETY,’ the third electrician bawled.

  ‘SORRY, SHORTY?’ Zenia Klob shrilled. ‘I’M GETTING A LOT OF INTERFERENCE IN MY HEARING AID. THE MEGAPHONE SEEMS TO BE SPOILING THE SUPER-RECEPTION.’

  The electricians glanced at one another.

  ‘Think of something!’ the driver mouthed. ‘Quick!’

  ‘HE MIGHT GET ELECTRI-CATTED,’ the fourth electrician yelled.

  ‘*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*’ Zenia Klob let out a string of rude-sounding Russian words. There was a tense silence. ‘VERY VELL,’ Zenia said eventually. ‘GET ON VITH IT. BUT DON’T TAKE ALL NIGHT. I’M GOING TO FIX MY SUPER-RECEPTIVE HEARING AID. AND THEN I’VE GOT SOME CROWN JEWELS TO STEAL!’

  The electricians disappeared inside the Jewel House with the boxes and closed the door behind them. They ripped off their caps.

  ‘Phew!’ Inspector Cheddar leaned against the door with a sigh of relief.

  ‘That was close!’ sighed Mrs Cheddar.

  ‘I thought she was going to hairpin us,’ Michael said.

  ‘I’m glad Ginger Biscuit didn’t show up,’ Callie breathed.

  Inspector Cheddar looked at his watch. It was a few minutes past midnight. ‘We’d better get on with it.’

  They walked towards the vault. CLANG. CLUNK. CLANG. CLUNK. The heavy metal doors swung
open.

  ‘It’s lucky Klob didn’t work out that these can be controlled from Buckingham Palace!’ Mrs Cheddar whispered.

  ‘We don’t have much time.’ Inspector Cheddar started unpacking the toolboxes. ‘If she thinks we’ve disarmed the system she’ll be in here like a bullet.’ He took out a sceptre and an orb identical to the ones in the display cabinets. ‘Now, let’s get these fake jewels into the cabinets and the real ones into the toolboxes.’ He picked up the orb and squinted at it. ‘It was a brilliant plan of Her Majesty’s to switch them, especially after what Klob did with the ravens and the magpies! Thank goodness she had some fake ones made for her Jubilee dressing-up party.’

  ‘Where’s Atticus?’ Michael sounded worried. ‘He’s supposed to meet us here.’

  ‘You do think he’s all right, don’t you, Mum?’ Callie said anxiously.

  ‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ Mrs Cheddar said. ‘He’ll be here in a minute. He knows the plan.’ She took a skeleton key from her pocket and got to work. Soon all the cabinets were unlocked.

  Quickly and quietly the Cheddars took the real Crown Jewels out of the display cabinets and substituted the fake ones. The last thing to be switched was the ermine coronation gown.

  ‘Do you think it will fool Klob?’ Mrs Cheddar asked, smoothing down the fake fur collar on the dummy.

  ‘Definitely,’ Inspector Cheddar said. ‘She won’t notice until she gets to Siberia.’

  ‘I’m really worried about Atticus,’ Callie said anxiously.

  ‘Me too,’ said Michael. ‘He should be here by now.’

  ‘I expect he’s waiting by the van.’ Mrs Cheddar began to re-lock the cabinets.

  Inspector Cheddar looked around. ‘Now let’s pack up the real Crown Jewels and get out of here.’

  Hastily they scooped the priceless treasures into the plastic toolboxes and rammed down the lids.

  The four Cheddars pushed their baseball caps back on to their heads and made their way out of the vault.

  They went down the steps and back out into the night.

  ‘We’ve finished, Ms Klob,’ Inspector Cheddar panted. ‘The electrical malfunction’s fixed.’

  There was no reply.

  ‘It’s fine for you to steal the Crown Jewels now,’ he wheezed, plonking the heavy toolboxes down on the road beside the van.

  There was silence.

  ‘Go ahead,’ he added. ‘Be our guests.’

  Nothing.

  ‘Where is she, Dad?’ Michael whispered.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Inspector Cheddar opened the rear doors of the van and heaved the toolboxes in. The van sank down on its axles. SSSSSSSSSSSSSS! There was a loud hissing noise.

  ‘What was that?’ Mrs Cheddar said.

  Inspector Cheddar had gone pale. ‘Sounds like a flat tyre,’ he said.

  ‘Make that four flat tyres,’ Michael crouched down and looked under the van.

  ‘And no Atticus,’ Callie sniffed. ‘He’s still not here.’

  ‘How did that happen?’ Inspector Cheddar scratched his baseball cap.

  ‘Never mind how it happened, darling,’ Mrs Cheddar said. ‘The question is what are we going to do about it?’

  ‘I’ll stay here and guard the Crown Jewels,’ Inspector Cheddar said. ‘You three get back to the Palace and tell the Commissioner what’s happened. Get him to send a recovery truck. If Klob shows up I’ll tell her we’ve had a breakdown and that I’ve got to wait for the AA.’

  ‘But darling,’ Mrs Cheddar protested, ‘what if she hairpins you?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Inspector Cheddar said bravely. ‘As long as she doesn’t find out we’ve switched the Crown Jewels until she’s on that plane to Siberia.’

  ‘Where’s Atticus?’ Callie began to cry.

  ‘Maybe we’ll find him on the way out.’ Michael swallowed his tears back.

  They were both thinking the same thing. What if Biscuit had harmed him?

  Mrs Cheddar took their hands. ‘I’m sure Atticus will be here soon,’ she said firmly. ‘He’s bound to see us walking out. And if he doesn’t, Dad will be waiting for him. Now come on, let’s go and get some help.’ They set off towards the exit. It wasn’t long before they disappeared and Inspector Cheddar was left all alone.

  SSSQQQUUUEEEEAAAAKKK! TRUNDLE-TRUNDLE! SSSQQQUUUEEEEAAAAKKK! TRUNDLE-TRUNDLE.

  Inspector Cheddar looked about nervously. He knew all about the ghosts at the Tower from the guidebook. He swallowed. It didn’t sound like the heavy tread of the axe man’s footsteps. It certainly wasn’t the wailing woman or the chink-chink of the polar bear’s chains. And he didn’t think a headless Anne Boleyn would make much noise at all. His imagination began to work overtime. Could it be the ghostly cart, which was used to bring prisoners to the executioner’s block? Or, even worse, the wheelbarrow they put their bodies in once they’d been beheaded? Or the scraping of old ladies’ knitting needles while they gathered to watch the heads tumble? No. No. No! he told himself. You’re getting mixed up with the French Revolution.

  ‘Get a grip on yourself, Cheddar.’ He gave himself a smack.

  SSSQQQUUUEEEAAAKK! TRUNDLE-TRUNDLE! SSSQQQUUUEEEAAAKKK! TRUNDLE-TRUNDLE.

  The noise came again. Inspector Cheddar began to shake. He went so white he could have been a ghost himself. Something was out there. He wasn’t imagining it.

  ‘What do you want?’ he quavered.

  SSSQQQUUUEEEAAAKK! TRUNDLE-TRUNDLE! SSSQQQUUUEEEAAAKKK! TRUNDLE-TRUNDLE.

  ‘I’m a yellow belt at karate.’ He practised a few wobbly chops.

  SSSQQQUUUEEEAAAKK! TRUNDLE-TRUNDLE! SSSQQQUUUEEEAAAKKK! TRUNDLE-TRUNDLE.

  ‘Reveal yourself in the name of the law,’ he demanded in a weak voice. ‘I am a …’ He’d been about to say ‘police officer’ but remembered just in time not to in case Zenia Klob was out there somewhere, listening on her super-receptive hearing aid. ‘… royal electrician of Buckingham Palace,’ he finished lamely.

  SSSQQQUUUEEEAAAKK! TRUNDLE-TRUNDLE! SSSQQQUUUEEEAAAKKK! TRUNDLE-TRUNDLE.

  Inspector Cheddar was just about to faint when a large cleaning cart complete with two bins and some brushes loomed into view. It was pushed by a wizened janitor with a bald head, who was dressed in bright orange dungarees and a reflective jacket.

  The cart made its way towards the van.

  ‘You look like you could use some help,’ the janitor said, looking at the van meaningfully. ‘From a friend.’

  To Inspector Cheddar’s surprise the janitor winked at him.

  ‘I … er …’

  ‘It looks like you’ve got some very valuable tools in there,’ the janitor said, peering through the window of the van.

  ‘Well … er …’

  ‘You vouldn’t vant anyone to steal them, vould you?’ The janitor looked about furtively.

  An idea dawned on Inspector Cheddar. ‘Did the Queen send you?’ he whispered excitedly.

  The janitor nodded.

  ‘What should we do?’ Inspector Cheddar hissed.

  ‘Shhhhh,’ the janitor hissed back. ‘Klob might be listening. I’ve got instructions.’ He produced a crumpled piece of paper from his overall pocket and handed it to Inspector Cheddar. Then he produced a torch and switched it on. Inspector Cheddar peered at the note.

  ‘Or else what?’ Inspector Cheddar whispered, puzzled. It wasn’t the sort of note he’d have expected the Queen to write, although the corgis might have.

  ‘Or else Klob might vork out you’ve switched the real Crown Jewels for fake ones and hairpin you,’ the janitor said impatiently. ‘Now hurry up, I haven’t got all night.’

  Inspector Cheddar hesitated for a moment. Then he decided it must be another of the Queen’s brilliant plans. Sending a pretend janitor as backup just in case the van broke down was a stroke of royal genius. He started to unload the toolboxes from the back of the van.

  ‘Put them in that one!’ the janitor barked, pointing at one of the two rubbish bins. ‘The other one’s full.’

&nb
sp; Inspector Cheddar heaved them into the empty bin.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ the janitor muttered impatiently. ‘Places to go, people to see.’

  ‘I’m doing it as fast as I can,’ Inspector Cheddar grumbled.

  ‘Hurry up. I haven’t got all night.’ The janitor tapped his hobnail boots on the ground.

  ‘That’s the last of them.’ Inspector Cheddar rattled the final box into the cart.

  ‘About time!’ the janitor snapped.

  ‘Shall I wheel it?’ Inspector Cheddar asked generously. The janitor looked far too wizened to push it himself with all that weight in it.

  ‘I can manage,’ the janitor set off at a smart pace towards the river with the rubbish cart.

  Inspector Cheddar had to run to keep up. ‘Wait for me,’ he puffed. The janitor really was very fit for an old-timer. He must be part of a crack team, Inspector Cheddar decided. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but which unit are you from?’ he panted.

  ‘Er … the SAS.’ The janitor’s hobnail boots clattered on the cobbles.

  ‘Special Air Service?’ Inspector Cheddar gasped for breath.

  ‘No – Superfit and Seventy,’ the janitor explained. ‘Ve’re specially trained for operations like this.’

  They reached the steps leading to Traitors’ Gate.

  ‘I’ll take it from here,’ the janitor said. He stopped the rubbish cart and reached up towards his head. ‘You can have a little nap.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Inspector Cheddar asked, bewildered. ‘I don’t need a little nap.’ To his horror, the janitor began to peel off his bald head. Beneath it was a mat of short grey hair with sparkly bits in it. Inspector Cheddar gulped. The sparkly bits were hairpins. They twinkled in the moonlight.

  ‘Klob!’ Inspector Cheddar gasped.

  ‘Surprise!’ The janitor removed one, took aim and fired.

  ‘Ooommpphh.’ The hairpin hit Inspector Cheddar in the chest. He crumpled to the ground.

  ‘You ninny!’ Zenia Klob sniggered. ‘Thinking you could trick the great Zenia Klob, mistress of disguise, with a bunch of fake Crown Jewels. Come on, Biscuit, let’s get him under cover.’