Atticus Claw Settles a Score

by Jennifer Gray

  A ginger head appeared from the second bin.

  Between them they propped Inspector Cheddar up in a nearby sentry hut.

  ‘That’s that.’ Klob clicked her boots. ‘Once ve’ve got this lot on the barge, my murdering moggy, you can go and find Atticus and the ravens.’ She winked at him. ‘You know what to do.’

  ‘Rrrrrrrrrrrr,’ Ginger Biscuit bared his teeth.

  ‘And remember, Biscuit,’ Zenia Klob picked a spider off one of the cleaning brushes and offered it to him, ‘Atticus has been very naughty. So don’t just chew his ear this time.’ She grinned as the spider’s wriggling legs disappeared into Ginger Biscuit’s hungry mouth. ‘Chew the rest of him as vell.’

  Mrs Cheddar, Callie and Michael were halfway to the Tube station.

  Callie was crying. ‘I don’t want to leave Atticus,’ she wept. ‘He was supposed to meet us! Something must have happened to him.’

  ‘I know!’ Mrs Cheddar said despairingly. ‘I don’t want to leave him either. Or Dad. But we’ve got to go back and get help!’ They trooped past the ticket office.

  Michael cast a sideways glance to his right. The Tower of London loomed out of the darkness, vast and forbidding. The moat stretched round it, deep and empty. He wouldn’t like to be down there right now.

  Something was down there, though, picking its way stealthily across the grass. Michael stopped to look more closely. He could see the dark shape of an animal heading towards the Tower walls, its white paws picked out by the moonlight. It had something square around its neck. He stopped dead.

  ‘Isn’t that Atticus?’ he cried, pointing towards the moat.

  Mrs Cheddar and Callie stopped too. ‘Where?’ Callie asked.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ Mrs Cheddar frowned.

  The animal had disappeared. ‘I saw him,’ Michael insisted. ‘I’m sure I did. He was over there, near the wall.’

  ‘Maybe it was a shadow?’ Mrs Cheddar suggested.

  ‘No, it was him,’ Michael protested. ‘I saw his paws.’

  ‘What about his red handkerchief?’ Callie sniffed.

  Michael shook his head. ‘He wasn’t wearing it. There was something else round his neck.’

  Mrs Cheddar looked doubtful. ‘Where could he have gone?’ she asked.

  ‘Maybe there’s a tunnel!’ Callie had stopped crying. Her eyes were shining with excitement. ‘A secret tunnel into the castle from the moat! Maybe the ravens are safe and Atticus was trying to escape.’

  ‘But if it really was Atticus Michael saw –’ Mrs Cheddar frowned – ‘he wasn’t trying to escape; he was going back in! Why would he be doing that?’

  ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Michael said determinedly. He doubled back towards the entrance.

  ‘Michael!’ Mrs Cheddar hissed. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m going to help Atticus,’ Michael called back. ‘And Dad.’

  ‘So am I.’ Callie started after him.

  ‘But what about Zenia Klob?’ Mrs Cheddar cried. ‘And Ginger Biscuit?’

  ‘If the Queen isn’t scared of them,’ Michael said bravely, ‘then neither am I.’

  ‘Nor me,’ Callie agreed.

  Mrs Cheddar sighed. ‘Oh well,’ she said, ‘I suppose I’d better come with you.’

  Atticus wormed his way back through the rusty pipe from the moat to the underground bunker where the ravens were hidden. Breaking into Thumpers’ Traditional Dye shop had been a piece of steak for the world’s greatest ex-cat-burglar. He’d found the shop no problem and picked the lock in seconds. It was the work of a moment to grab the dye and scarper without a trace. That’s not to say Atticus enjoyed doing it. He didn’t. Atticus didn’t want to steal any more, but he told himself that whoever owned Thumpers’ would understand that it was a national emergency and that sometimes a cat burglar, even a reformed one, had to use all his powers to save Her Majesty.

  The only tricky part was carrying the bottles back without his handkerchief. The stiff square carrier bag he’d found in the shop banged awkwardly against his chest. But it wasn’t long before the whole operation was complete and he dropped down out of the rusty pipe back into the poo bunker.

  ‘Waaarrrk!’ The ravens were waiting for him.

  Atticus pulled the bag back over his ears and took out a bottle.

  The ravens crowded round.

  ‘It doesn’t say anything about feathers,’ Georgina said doubtfully.

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Atticus said. ‘Zenia used the black one for the magpies’ raven suits. And you can get it off with this.’ He took out a second bottle. ‘It’s dye remover.’

  ‘All right,’ Georgina agreed. ‘Let’s do it. Come on, guys. Who’s first?’

  Ginger Biscuit let himself into the Bloody Tower. The hard work was over. The real Crown Jewels were on the barge while the fake ones were in the cabinets where the so-called electricians had put them. He chuckled. How stupid humans were (apart from Zenia, of course). And that bungling bunch pretending to be royal electricians was the most idiotic lot of humans he’d ever come across, especially the van driver. Imagine actually falling for Zenia’s janitor routine! And believing Zenia when she told them her super-receptive hearing aid wasn’t working properly! What morons. Of course it was working! He and Zenia could hear every word they whispered.

  Including all the stuff about Atticus.

  It hadn’t taken Ginger Biscuit long to realise that the electricians were the Cheddars and that everything Jimmy Magpie said was true. Atticus Claw was a pet: a double-crossing, devious, lying, spying pet. He was a traitor. And he would pay.

  Ginger Biscuit reached the room with the poo hole. He was looking forward to this. Puncturing van tyres with his razor-sharp claws and listening to the air hiss out was fun, but not as much fun as killing ravens. As for Atticus, Ginger Biscuit hadn’t yet decided whether he would finish him off in the bunker or drag him back to the barge and drown him in the mud. Atticus had never liked to do any dirty work. He always preferred to keep his precious white paws clean. The mud might be better: a more fitting end for a pampered pussycat pet.

  He paced over towards the poo hole quietly. He didn’t want Atticus to guess that he knew the truth. He wanted to catch him by surprise.

  ‘Atticus?’ he called softly. ‘It’s me, Biscuit. We’ve got the jewels.’

  There was no reply.

  ‘It’s time to kill the ravens,’ Biscuit put his head down the poo hole. The sound of his voice echoed eerily back at him.

  ‘Killlllllll the rrrrraaaavvvveeeennnnnsssssss,’ it trembled.

  ‘If you won’t do it,’ Ginger Biscuit hissed, ‘I will.’

  ‘I will … I will … I will …’ his voice whispered back.

  Except it didn’t sound like his voice.

  Ginger Biscuit drew back sharply from the poo hole.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he demanded.

  ‘We are the ghosts of the imprisoned ravens,’ the voice quivered up the poo hole and rang around the room.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ginger Biscuit’s fur began to prickle.

  ‘We have been murdered by your accomplice, Atticus Claw,’ the voice continued. ‘Upon the evil order of your Gingery Biscuitness. Claw has escaped but now the Tower will fall and we will haunt you forever … Woooooooooooooooooooo.’

  ‘If that’s you, Pig,’ Ginger Biscuit snarled, ‘you’re dead.’

  ‘It is not the one you call Pig that speaks,’ the voice quavered. ‘It is us, the murdered ravens of the Bloody Tower poo hole … waaaaarrrrrrrkkkkk!’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Ginger Biscuit began to tremble all over. ‘You’re not really ghosts. You’re making it up.’

  ‘Then we will show ourselves to you,’ the voice breathed.

  ‘No!’ Ginger Biscuit’s fur stood on end. ‘There’s no need. Really. I’m leaving anyway. If you’re dead the whole place will collapse.’

  ‘The White Tower will be the first to fall,’ the hollow voice cried. ‘And o
nce the axe man, the wailing woman, and our poor headless friend Anne Boleyn find out what you have done, I wouldn’t like to be in your paws.’

  ‘But I didn’t do anything!’ Ginger Biscuit howled. ‘It was Claw.’

  ‘It was you who gave the order. It is you who face the terrible curse.’ The voice was relentless. ‘We are coming …’

  There was a soft fluttering sound.

  Ginger Biscuit stared in horror. Six white birds emerged from the poo hole one after another. FLAP. FLAP. FLAP. FLAP. FLAP. FLAP. They hovered in the air in front of him.

  The biggest one stared at him with huge black eyes. ‘There can be no escape …’ The birds lurched towards him.

  With a yowl of terror, Ginger Biscuit turned and ran.

  ‘Waaarrrk! Waaarrrk! Waaarrrk!’

  ‘Waaarrrk! Waaarrrk! Waaarrrk!’

  The six ravens collapsed to the floor, laughing.

  ‘Nice work, guys!’ Georgina congratulated the others. ‘I haven’t done that much flying in ages! Now let’s get Atticus.’ They hopped over to the curtains, unhooked the rope ties and twisted them together in a tight knot. Then they settled back beside the poo hole. ‘Are you ready?’ Georgina called down.

  ‘I’m ready,’ Atticus’s voice echoed up the shaft. ‘Nice haunting, by the way. I wish I could have seen Biscuit’s face.’

  ‘He was completely spooked,’ Georgina chuckled. ‘Come on, guys. Heave-ho.’ She took hold of one end of the curtain rope in her powerful beak and pushed the other end over the edge of the shaft. The other ravens followed suit. The rope went taut. They braced themselves.

  Down below, in the bunker, Atticus grabbed the rope. Slowly, inch by inch, he hauled himself up the shaft.

  ‘Phew!’ he said, collapsing on to the floor. Atticus pulled the stiff Thumpers’ bag from around his neck. ‘Sorry if I was a bit heavier than you expected. But I thought you might want this.’ It was the bottle of Thumpers’ Dye Remover.

  ‘Thanks, Atticus,’ Georgina pulled the stopper out with her beak. ‘What should we do when we’re back to black?’

  ‘Go to the raven pens and hide out in the hut until Ron gets back,’ Atticus told her. ‘That’s the last place Klob would look. Anyway,’ he added, ‘she thinks you’re dead.’

  He headed towards the spiral staircase.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Georgina asked.

  Atticus grinned. ‘I’m going to find my family.’

  ‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’

  On the barge, the magpies chattered and squawked. Zenia was on deck fitting the latest Russian turbo-engine ready for their getaway. Ginger Biscuit was out killing ravens and Atticus. It was their turn to have a bit of fun.

  ‘Well,’ Thug said. ‘Does it suit me?’ The magpies had flicked open the plastic toolboxes to look at the treasure. Pig, Wally and Gizzard were lying in a bath of rings and orbs. Jimmy was checking out the crowns and Thug and Slasher were snuggling under the ermine coronation gown.

  ‘It looks lovely with the blue of your wings,’ Slasher told him.

  ‘It’s so soft!’ Thug rubbed his cheek against the fur. ‘It would make a perfect nest snuggler. ’Ere, Jimmy, can you knit one of these?’

  ‘King Jimmy, you mean!’ Jimmy’s voice came from beneath the crown. ‘I could do with something like this in Littleton-on-Sea. It’d be good for my image.’

  ‘Yeah, real good, Boss,’ Pig agreed. ‘Very regal.’

  Just then Ginger Biscuit raced in, his tail between his legs.

  The magpies stared at him.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ Wally said.

  ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost!’ Thug sniggered.

  ‘I have!’ Ginger Biscuit yelped. ‘Not just one ghost! Six of them.’

  ‘What?’ Jimmy pushed the crown off and hopped on to the table.

  ‘The ravens!’ Ginger Biscuit let out a strangled cry. ‘Claw killed them.’

  ‘That’s what you told him to do,’ Wally said, ‘wasn’t it?’

  ‘Not until I gave him the word,’ Ginger Biscuit yowled. ‘He’s gone and done it on his own and now they’re after me!’

  ‘You sure?’ Slasher asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Ginger Biscuit closed his eyes. ‘They flew out of the poo hole; all white and creepy.’ He shuddered. ‘They say I’m responsible. They say I’m cursed!’ He began to dip hairpins into the bottle of sleeping potion to take his mind off things.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Thug scratched his bottom. ‘If the ravens are dead, then why hasn’t the White Tower fallen? People should be revolting.’

  ‘What, like Wally?’ Slasher joked.

  ‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’

  ‘Maybe it takes a while,’ Ginger Biscuit said miserably. ‘I don’t know. We should probably get out of here while we still can. Wait a minute!’ he snarled. ‘This isn’t sleeping potion.’ The tip of the silver hairpins had turned black. ‘It’s that dye Zenia used on the raven suits.’

  ‘Dye!’ Jimmy repeated, his voice sharp. ‘I wonder …’ He eyed the bottle. ‘Atticus Claw knows all about dye.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ginger Biscuit froze.

  ‘He dyed himself white to fool us when we did the Toffly Hall job,’ Jimmy told him. ‘He pretended he was a Persian cat so we wouldn’t notice him sneak in.’ Jimmy put his head to one side, thinking. ‘Where’s the dye shop?’ he said suddenly.

  ‘55 Tower Vaults,’ Slasher read the label.

  ‘That’s the other side of the moat.’ Jimmy’s eyes glittered. ‘Is there any chance Claw could have got his paws on some?’

  ‘You can get to the moat from the poo hole.’ Ginger Biscuit frowned. ‘There’s a pipe.’

  ‘Did Claw know about it?’ Jimmy asked sharply.

  Ginger Biscuit nodded. ‘I told him.’

  ‘That’s it, then.’ Jimmy shrugged. ‘What could be easier for a measly ex-burglar like Atticus Claw than to nip to Thumpers’, steal a bottle of white dye and cover the ravens with it?’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Put it this way, Ginger,’ Jimmy interrupted, ‘the White Tower hasn’t fallen. The Queen’s still on the throne. And Slasher’s right: the only revolting thing around here is Wally. You didn’t see any ghosts. What you saw was a bunch of ravens covered in Thumpers’ Traditional White. I don’t like to say I told you so, but I did. Atticus Claw is a low-down double-crossing liar. He’s tricked you. Again.’

  There was silence in the cabin. The six magpies had their eyes glued on Ginger Biscuit.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Thug. ‘He looks like he’s about to lay an egg.’

  ‘MMMM YYYYYYAAAAAAA WWWWWW!’ All of a sudden Ginger Biscuit went bananas. He smashed the bottle of feather dye. He ripped the sofa. He puffed himself up to twice his normal size and flung the bowl of hairpins to the floor. Finally he scraped his claws along the wooden table, showering the magpies with sharp splinters. His face contorted into a hideous snarl. ‘THAT … CAT … IS … DEAD!’ He hurtled out of the barge in a flash of ginger, breaking the door off its hinges, and disappeared into the night.

  ‘What’s that?’

  Mrs Cheddar, Callie and Michael were searching the Tower for Atticus and Inspector Cheddar.

  ‘It sounds like a werewolf,’ Michael said, staring at the full moon.

  ‘A were-cat more like,’ Mrs Cheddar muttered.

  ‘I hope Atticus is all right,’ Callie was gulped.

  ‘Shhhh!’ Mrs Cheddar pulled the children into the shadows.

  Ginger Biscuit bounded past them, snarling.

  ‘Do you think he’s found out about Atticus?’ Michael asked.

  ‘From the look on his face, I think he must have,’ Mrs Cheddar shivered. ‘We need to find Atticus before he does.’

  ‘And Dad,’ Callie sniffed.

  ‘Oooohhhhhhhh.’

  The groaning noise came from nearby.

  Mrs Cheddar, Callie and Michael froze.

  ‘It’s probably just the wind,’ Mrs Cheddar said nervously. />
  ‘Oooooohhhhhhh.’

  ‘It’s not windy.’ Michael’s face was white.

  ‘Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh.’

  The three terrified Cheddars turned around slowly.

  ‘DAD!’ Callie cried.

  Inspector Cheddar fell out of the sentry hut on to the ground.

  Mrs Cheddar dropped to her knees. ‘He’s been hairpinned,’ she said grimly. She put her lips to her husband’s ear. ‘Don’t move, darling.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Inspector Cheddar tried to sit up. ‘Just a bit groggy.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Where’s that witch, Klob?’

  ‘We don’t know, Dad,’ Michael told him. ‘Where are the real Crown Jewels?’

  ‘Klob’s got them,’ Inspector Cheddar said in a slurred voice. ‘She pretended to be a janitor. She told me the Queen sent her.’ He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘She was taking them to the river. She must be loading them on to a boat.’

  ‘The barge!’ Michael said suddenly. ‘I’ll bet that’s where she’s been holed up.’

  ‘Of course!’ Mrs Cheddar exclaimed.

  Inspector Cheddar propped himself up on the other elbow. ‘We’ve got to stop her before she gets to the airport.’

  ‘I reckon she’s still here, Dad,’ Michael said. ‘We just saw Biscuit. She wouldn’t leave without him.’

  ‘What about the ravens?’ Inspector Cheddar staggered to his feet.

  ‘We don’t know where they are but they must be safe,’ Mrs Cheddar said. ‘Thanks to Atticus.’

  ‘Where is Atticus?’ Inspector Cheddar peered into the darkness, swaying slightly. ‘Did you find him?’

  ‘No!’ Callie said despairingly. ‘We think Ginger Biscuit’s looking for him. He went past a few minutes ago, hissing and spitting like mad.’

  ‘He’ll kill Atticus if he’s found out he’s a spy!’ Michael cried. ‘Come on, Dad. We’ve got to do something to help him.’

  Inspector Cheddar straightened his electrician’s cap. ‘I’m not letting any cat of Klob’s kill one of my officers,’ he said firmly. ‘Which way did he go?’