by Mike Blyth
The sun rose early. The three of them gathered in the inn’s kitchen for a breakfast of haggis on toast. But they could only eat the toast. They hid the inedible, rubbery, musty-smelling haggis bits in a small bag so as not to offend the innkeeper.
They headed off down the mud-covered streets to visit Professor Aberdeen at the university. Gangs of children going to school were headed in the same direction. Their bags were hung over their shoulders, stuffed with books. They laughed with each other and played tag. As the three sleuths walked through the archway to the university, a stern teacher asked them what class they were joining.
“We are not here for classes,” stuttered an intimidated Inspector Rumblepants. “We are the police on official business,” he added with more authority.
She did not look impressed and peered down at the Inspector through wire glasses sitting on the end of her hooked nose. “So you are too old to learn anything!” she huffed.
“No,” stammered the uncomfortable Inspector. “We finished schooling some years ago, and we are here simply to see Professor Aberdeen.”
“Have you been placed into detention and have to report to him?” asked the strict teacher. “Been naughty, have we?” She did not seem surprised.
“No, we are grown up and don’t go to school anymore,” Inspector Rumblepants explained futilely.
“Truants!” tutted the teacher. “Your story sounds fishy to me. Go that way to Professor Aberdeen, and don’t be late for your lessons,” she said briskly, pointing to a door. Then she turned quickly to frighten some students who were laughing without permission.
The building was old and dusty. By accident, they interrupted several classes trying to locate the professor. They eventually found Professor Aberdeen, who was having a cup of tea in the teachers’ lounge. He smiled widely when they entered and offered them tea and crumpets.
They were just settling down to get acquainted when suddenly one of the windows exploded in a great shower of glass. In rolled Inspector Nailard, screaming, “Get down!” while randomly throwing daggers into bookcases and walls.
Behind Nailard, several other tough police officers kicked down doors and ran around shouting, “Don’t move . . . Reach for the sky!”
Inspector Nailard jumped over a couch and grabbed Inspector Rumblepants by the arm. Nailard swung Rumblepants over the back of the couch and then landed on top of him.
“Inspector secured!” Nailard screamed heartily as two of the other policemen tried to lift Sergeant Widebottom and throw him behind a bookcase. After working on it a bit, they came to the conclusion that Widebottom was too heavy to be thrown. So instead, they threw themselves on top of him, making him spill his tea down one trouser leg.
“Sergeant secured!” shouted the policemen together. They were puffing and red faced with the effort, but they sported big grins at their success. One of the FART officers picked up a biscuit that had fallen on the floor and popped it into his mouth.
One officer threw a smoke bomb. Another officer came down the chimney and was covered in soot. A tiny officer broke through a wall with a huge bang of explosives—bits of wall went flying in all directions. Everyone coughed on the smoke, and there were loud crashes as bookshelves toppled over.
After much struggling, Inspector Rumblepants convinced Inspector Nailard to get off of him and to let Sergeant Widebottom sit up. Professor Aberdeen was allowed out of a cupboard one of the policemen had locked him in. He had been standing for several minutes in the dark, sipping his tea and nibbling a biscuit calmly, as if this kind of riot happened every day.
“Just what do you think you are doing?” asked Inspector Rumblepants angrily to Nailard, brushing biscuits crumbs and tea droplets from his tweed jacket.
“Your lives are in danger!” Nailard exclaimed breathlessly. We have been sent to protect you,” he stated proudly. His men climbed off Sergeant Widebottom, who proceeded to dust himself off and pour himself another cup of tea.
“How are you protecting us?” Rumblepants inquired. “By breaking through windows and walls, and damaging doors?”
Agent Amber, used to such mayhem, tried to lean a broken door up against a wall. Professor Aberdeen, ever calm, pulled daggers from some of his rare-book collection.
Rumblepants pointed to the officer dressed in soot. “What would have happened if they had lit the fireplace?”
“It was necessary,” Inspector Nailard assured Rumblepants, all the while grinning and looking approvingly around the wrecked room. “Rumblepants, read your official manual. Manual 14, Section 12.4B, says that entering a potentially hostile room with a potential hostage calls for windows and doors to be opened quickly, walls to be breached, and the hostage to be covered by large police officers in order to prevent injury or danger.” He smirked in satisfaction.
“But the doors were already open,” Rumblepants protested. “And you hurt my ankle when you threw me over the chair.” As if to prove the point, he limped to a chair to sit down. “It was pretty dangerous, your throwing those knives all over the place!” he pointed out angrily.
Suddenly a picture fell off of the wall with a crash, glass shattering all over the floor.
“I remember last year at the office Christmas party, when you threw in smoke bombs and arrested Santa,” he added, trying to make his hair more presentable with his hands.
Nailard scoffed. “We had it on good authority that it was not actually Santa, but an imposter.”
His men helped themselves to biscuits and cups of tea.
“A good detective has to be observant,” instructed Nailard. “For example, there was no sledge outside. There wasn’t a reindeer in sight. So by deduction, he clearly was not the real Santa.” Nailard smiled smugly at his impeccable reasoning.
“You are right,” said Inspector Rumblepants wearily.
Nailard continued. “In fact, when we searched our prisoner at the station, we discovered that ‘Santa’ was really Mr. Jenkins, the headmaster from Wilkin’s primary school. I know that he has been rehabilitated as a troublemaker, because he has refused to go anywhere near the police station again.”
Sergeant Widebottom looked up from his cucumber sandwich. “I heard that Mr. Jenkins starts crying every time he sees a policeman and locks himself in his home every Christmas,” he said sadly.
“What about the year before,” Rumblepants asked, “at the police family Easter party? Didn’t you arrest three of the children?”
“They were stealing eggs from the police garden,” stated Inspector Nailard, helping Professor Aberdeen pull the last of the knives from the wall.
“But it was an egg hunt!” exclaimed the exasperated Rumblepants.
“I always get my man,” Nailard insisted.
When the teachers’ lounge was tidied up and the broken windows had been covered with sheets to stop any rain from coming in, Inspector Nailard told Inspector Rumblepants, Sergeant Widebottom, and Agent Amber about the note reporting on a mole. He explained that the MI six-and-a-half division thought there was a traitor in their midst, and that they might be ambushed at any time.
Inspector Rumblepants recounted to Nailard the ambush of the day before and that they had thus surmised that there was a traitor. He also pointed out that Bonnie Prince Currie and Count Tomat Le Ketchoop intended to overthrow Queen Victoria of England, after which they hoped to conquer the rest of the world.
Professor Aberdeen had gone to the university to arrange for a carpenter to fix the doors and windows. While he was gone, Inspector Thistle McDonald arrived. He observed the mess that Inspector Nailard and his men had caused. When the professor returned, they all sat down over hot tea and biscuits to discuss the Golden Haggis and how it could be used as a weapon to unite the Scottish clans and convince them to attack London to overthrow the Queen.
Professor Aberdeen told them that in ancient times, the Haggis was worshiped by the Scottish clans as a mystical creature. The professor explained the rule that he of noble blood who held the symbol of the Golden H
aggis was the rightful King of Scotland. Bonnie Prince Currie thus would use the Golden Haggis to claim the throne of Scotland, at which time all the clans would rise up on his command.
Professor Aberdeen also told them that the ancient throne of Scotland was on a tiny island in the middle of Loch Ness. Rumor was that all of the clan’s chieftains had been called secretly to attend a meeting at midnight that very evening, although no one knew why.
At this last revelation, the English policemen and secret agent looked at each other. They knew that probably tonight, Bonnie Prince Currie, with the chieftains of all the most powerful clans, would proclaim himself King of Scotland. The trio suspected that tomorrow the armies of Scotland would be marching toward London, ready to attack.
Chapter 11
The Golden Haggis
After much apologizing to Professor Aberdeen for all the damage caused, Inspector Rumblepants suggested that they all go back to the Beastie Inn and discuss their plans over some lunch. They agreed, and over a wobbly lunch of haggis lasagna, they decided to sneak that very night to the island and arrest Bonnie Prince Currie and the evil Count. Fortunately, there was a small army garrison stationed in the village, and Colonel Smithering Blyyd had sent a message to the young lieutenant, named Numpty, commanding the outpost to help the Englishmen if needed. They agreed that with the help of some soldiers, as well as the FART team, they would be able to overcome any gypsies that the Count might have on the island. It was crucial to put an end to the evil plans for world conquest.
After pushing the musty, wobbly lasagna around on his plate for a few more minutes, Inspector Rumblepants looked up, his eyes resolute.
“Inspector Nailard, you and your men should lead the way and make sure that we can get in the small castle on the island. You are great at opening doors and windows, even when they are locked, and so we need you to help us get in fast. Feel free to damage as much as you want.”
“A terrific plan, Rumblepants, and awe-inspiring deduction,” said Nailard.
Inspector Rumblepants looked at McDonald. “Can you find Bonnie Prince Currie? When you do, please arrest him when we get in the castle.”
McDonald nodded in agreement.
Rumblepants looked at Sergeant Widebottom. “You and I will find the Count, and Lieutenant Numpty can arrest the gypsies.”
Sergeant Widebottom nodded yes. In his excitement, he pushed the hidden button on his retractable truncheon, smashing a mirror hanging on the far wall and knocking over a chair.
“Sorry,” he said, pulling the truncheon back in and tidying up the mess.
Inspector Rumblepants shook his head and looked at Agent Amber. “Our mission is to lead the soldiers into the castle and arrest all of the traitors. Especially the evil count.”
He looked around the group. “We will meet here tonight at ten o’clock and head for the lake.” They all nodded and headed for their rooms to get ready for the adventure that would occur later that night.
Lieutenant Numpty from the local army garrison rubbed his hands nervously in the dark. Twenty of his soldiers marched quietly down the track to the pier, where a fleet of small boats waited to ferry the soldiers and policemen to the island in the middle of the lake. The night was cloudy, and the air was filled with evening mist. On this night, all that could be seen was the vague, shadowy shapes of people bumping into each other or falling over tree stumps, fences, or each other. The silence of the night was only broken by the squelching of feet and the occasional whimper as people fell on something hard or sharp. Inspector Rumblepants tapped Lieutenant Numpty on the shoulder, making him jump in fright.
“I think we have everyone on the boats now, Lieutenant,” he whispered into Numpty’s ear.
“Great!” exclaimed Lieutenant Numpty loudly, jumping. “I mean great,” he said more quietly.
“The lake is only a few miles away,” Rumblepants reasoned. “We can land on the southern side. There is a small castle on the island, and no one should see us coming due to the mist and clouds. We should catch them by surprise,” said Inspector Rumblepants gleefully.
“I can scale the walls and sneak in ahead of you,” said Agent Amber to Lieutenant Numpty’s ear.
“Aaagghh!” Numpty shouted, startled again in fright. “Will people stop sneaking up on me? It’s dark, misty, and downright scary out here.” And with that, he marched off down the dark muddy track to join his men.
Agent Amber looked at Rumblepants. “A bit jumpy, isn’t he?” she said of Numpty. “I suppose it is a bit scary out here in the dark,” she said wistfully, not sounding the least bit frightened.
Rumblepants squinted in the dark at her shadowy face. “Have you managed to find out which person is the traitor?” he asked quietly.
Agent Amber shook her head and leaned in close. “No, but I do think our attack will be a surprise.”
Inspector Rumblepants rubbed his temples in worry. “I hope we can get to the island before anyone sounds the alarm,” he said.
Sergeant Widebottom sat munching a chicken sandwich. He was squished in between two small Scottish soldiers in a boat that moved like a ghost through the calm, misty waters of the lake. Only the occasional splash of the oars broke the silence as they drifted closer to the island. The vague shadowy outlines of the other boats could be seen nearby. From out of the mists, an eerie bleating noise could be heard, followed by a series of small splashes. Sergeant Widebottom looked up.
He nudged a Scottish soldier. “What was that?” he whispered, pointing with his half-eaten sandwich into the darkness.
The Scottish soldier looked up. “I think it was the Loch Ness beastie,” he whispered back. “They say it roams these waters with eyes like fire and a neck like a giraffe. It has big nasty teeth and horns, as well,” he embellished, trying not to laugh.
Sergeant Widebottom looked nervously around and asked, “Does this beastie come near boats full of soldiers and policemen in the middle of the night and on their way to an island where a secret meeting is being held by Scottish clan chiefs to take over the world?”
“Aye, it does,” replied the Scottish soldier. “It has been known to carry away whole boats of people, never to be seen again, especially Englishmen. The beastie seems to like that kind of people the most.”
There was another splash, this time nearer, followed by a louder bleating noise. Sergeant Widebottom reached for his special truncheon and stood up, making the boat wobble.
“It’s coming closer,” Widebottom whispered nervously, trying to find the special button on the truncheon. The soldiers in the boat were giggling at Widebottom’s gullible nature.
“It might be coming for ye,” whispered the soldier. Next to the boat there was a squeak.
“Halt in the name of the law,” shouted Sergeant Widebottom loudly, swinging around toward the squeak and pressing the special button on his truncheon.
Water splashed into the boat, and the truncheon suddenly sprang out, hitting the Scottish soldier he’d been talking with. It knocked him out of the boat with a yelp and a very loud splash.
They dragged the cold, soggy soldier back into the boat. He explained to Sergeant Widebottom that the bleating and squeaking were only seals having a late night snack. Widebottom gave him some hot cocoa, and the soldier sat wrapped in a blanket, shivering and looking grumpy. The boats continued to the island, eventually landing on a pebbly beach.
The castle could be seen tucked into a gathering of trees. Firelight from within the castle made the windows flicker. The faint sounds of voices from the castle could be heard.
Everyone climbed quietly out of the boats. Agent Amber slipped off like a shadow into the darkness. Inspector Nailard and his FART officers checked the readiness of their exploding door openers and window smashers. From the castle walls came a thud and groan, as Agent Amber knocked out the first of the gypsy sentries.
The group of soldiers and policemen slowly crept to the castle gates that stood solidly closed. Two large gypsies were tied up and muffled by Ag
ent Amber.
Inspector Nailard placed his secret door-opening device against the wooden gates and lit the fuse with a match. He looked at the group of men and said in a loud whisper, “You might want to run away now, very quickly!” He sprinted to hide behind a wide tree.
His men fled into the darkness, finding trees and boulders to hide behind. The policemen looked at each other for a long second and then bolted for cover as well. A second later, there was a loud thump and smoke filled the air. Inspector Nailard and his men ran into the smoke, only to find the gate still standing—although slightly sooty where their explosive charge had been placed.
He turned to his men. “We need a bigger bang,” he stated with a big smile. They all grinned with delight.
The next explosion shook the air. The castle gate disappeared in a ball of flame. Rocks fell from parts of the castle, and small trees nearby were blown over. At least two of the castle’s sheep became perched in a tree, and one of the policemen was thrown from a boat and into the lake. Inspector Rumblepants shook his head a few times as his ears buzzed. He brushed bits of tree from his jacket then started to run with the soldiers and policemen to the castle courtyard.
Everywhere was smoky confusion. Big gypsies were on the floor or wandering around in a daze. All of the windows had been blown in, and most of the doors hung off their hinges. Small fires had been started, and the place was in chaos.
Inspector Nailard and his men whooped with joy as they rushed through the smoke. Inside the castle, they found groups of gypsies on the floor in shock, clutching their ears from the deafening explosion. The soldiers quickly rounded them up, and more gypsies were arrested as they tried to escape. Inspector Nailard’s men were exploding doors throughout the castle, even if the doors were unlocked or open. They could be seen leaping on anyone who moved, including each other sometimes by accident. Some police officers were running up the castle stairs only so that they could rappel down the walls and smash through the castle windows, throwing in smoke bombs and flash bangs. Inside the castle, screams and loud thuds could be heard, and smoke poured from the broken castle windows.
