by Andrew Cope
He looked at Sophie, fast asleep. He loved her long eyelashes and freckled cheeks. He looked at the indentation in the duvet. Probably still warm, thought the cat, forcing himself to be strong. Running away was tough. But spending time on a boat was tougher. No more families for me. It always ends in heartbreak.
Shakespeare took a pencil in his mouth and tapped a brief message for Sophie.
Will MISS u little girl. But I have to go it Alone. This cat isn’t cut out to be a spY. Will love you 4ever. Please don’t be SAd.
Shakespeare wiped a paw across his face. Cats can’t cry, but they can feel very sad indeed. He held his paw on the ‘x’ button until about fifty kisses had been added. And I mean every single one of them, he thought.
He checked himself in the mirror. His translating collar was flashing. That’s my passport to a successful future, he thought. No more falling in love with kind children. No more being stroked. No more attachment. He made for the bedroom door and glanced back at the sleeping little girl. His heart was heavy, but his mind made up. I hope her heart doesn’t hurt as much as mine.
It was as he looked back that Lara made her move. She was a highly trained superspy, a lethal weapon. Her paw came down on Shakespeare’s head with just the right amount of force and the cat slumped to the floor.
Shakespeare woke, his vision blurred and his head heavy. The room seemed to be moving. He shook himself awake and looked around, his vision righting itself. He was lying on a bed, in a small room, unlike any room he’d ever been in. He tried to piece the clues together, but they made no sense. Why on earth has the room got round windows? How odd.
Shakespeare got to his feet and shook himself to full alertness. He jumped off the bed. Woah, still swaying, he thought. I’m still a groggy moggy. But where am I? And why are my legs so wobbly? The Spy Cat jumped silently on to the desk and stretched his neck to peer out of the round window. Blue sky and blue water! All of a sudden the clues fitted together. My legs aren’t wobbly. The boat is wobbly. Someone’s clonked me on the head and smuggled me on to a ship! He strained his neck even higher. River! Water! I’m surrounded by water!
Shakespeare struggled with his emotions. Anger was high on the list. Along with fear and betrayal. Who on earth had smuggled him on to this boat? His cat’s eyes scanned for more clues. The professor’s laptop was on the desk with a yellow Post-it note. ‘Play me,’ read Shakespeare, his translating collar working extra hard to decipher the spidery pen-in-the-mouth writing. The cat pressed the Return key and a home-made video sparked into life. Shakespeare nearly fell off the desk in surprise. It was Lara.
‘Hello, Shakespeare, or should I say Agent CAT,’ woofed the dog. ‘Apologies that you’re having to hear this message from the boat’s cabin, but I feared that you would never be persuaded aboard …’
Too right, thought the cat.
‘In fact, I was worried that your fears might even drive you from the home – and people – you love.’
Shakespeare calmed a little. He felt a bit ashamed of his plan to run away from home. And Sophie in particular.
‘Because, Agent CAT, what has become clear is that, in the short time you’ve been with us, we’ve grown very fond of you. Sophie in particular. As the family guardian, I don’t want you breaking her heart.’
Or her mine, thought the cat, swishing his tail in regret.
‘And,’ continued the video, ‘we must all learn to confront our deepest fears. In fact,’ woofed Lara, gazing seriously into the wobbly camera, ‘it is when we confront our deepest fears that we find out who we truly are. So, Agent CAT, I had no choice but to force you aboard. You will find the professor and the Cook family having fun on board the TriTanic. But, before you join them, you must wear the collar that you will find in the professor’s briefcase. The diamond will put you in peril. We believe the diamond thief is on board and will attempt to steal the gem. Your mission, and you have no choice but to accept it, is to help Professor Cortex to catch the criminal.’ Lara left a dramatic pause. ‘Or criminals. We are very much hoping that we might also be able to stop any more satellites being shot down.’
Shakespeare had gone from terrified to excited. It does sound kind of cool, he thought. I love the idea of keeping an eye on the passengers and working out who the baddie is.
Lara’s woof lowered to an even more serious level and her sticky-up ear rose to full alert. ‘But, Agent CAT, you have a more important task. You must keep the children from danger. We call it “rule number one” and it’s really all that matters.’
Shakespeare felt a shiver run down his spine.
‘So, Agent CAT, we are relying on you, your skills and your bravery. A chance to prove yourself on a double mission – solve the crime AND keep the children safe. Over and out.’
Lara saluted the wobbly camera and Shakespeare heard Star woofing, ‘Nice one, Mum, it’s in the can,’ before Spud’s face leered at the screen and he pulled a silly doggy grin as the video cut to black.
Shakespeare sat tall and proud. He tried to think logical thoughts. It’s a two-day river cruise. And yes, I’m surrounded by water, but the boat’s not going to sink. Shakespeare knew the vessel was carrying 150 passengers. ‘One of them is an evil baddie,’ he purred. ‘Watch out – here I come.’
The cabin door opened and Ben walked in. ‘Hi there, puss,’ he said. ‘Good to see you’re awake. I’m assuming you’ve seen Lara’s vid? In which case you’ll know the mission. And you’ll be needing some help to slip into this.’ He pulled the diamond necklace from the professor’s bag.
Shakespeare gulped. That’s a whopper! He stretched his neck as Ben clipped it in place.
‘Remember,’ said the boy, ‘you belong to the reclusive Maximus Rich. The professor’s already made himself known. He’s quite enjoying himself, playing the eccentric multi-zillionaire. It gives him a chance to be even more bonkers than normal. Come on, puss, let’s go bag ourselves a diamond thief.’
10. Maude Aboard
The Shard stands out on the capital’s skyline. Its tip is a gleaming focal point of steel and glass, the tallest and most modern of London’s buildings.
Yet, on the inside, it was 1950. The top floor was inhabited entirely by pensioners. The floor had a patterned carpet, to hide the dirt. Portraits of royalty looked down on proceedings. Everything was last millennium. And that was exactly the point.
To be part of this elite group you had to be able to remember the war. It didn’t really matter which war: any world war would do. The essential ingredient was that these people had been recruited, mostly from old people’s homes, with one thing in common: life was better in the olden days.
The Past Master looked around proudly at his team. Some of the ladies were knitting and chatting. There was a small TV in the corner and some of the team had an eye on that. It was a programme about family trees and they loved that kind of thing. Not the new kind of thing. They all agreed that too many TV programmes were rude or just plain loud. ‘When our machine gets working, we’ll be back to just three TV channels, like in the olden days,’ said Iris, her knitting needles clicking reassuringly.
‘Oh goody,’ said Joan. ‘Of course, in the really old days, we didn’t have a telly, you know. We just had books.’
‘And our imaginations,’ sighed Iris.
‘And rickets,’ remembered Gladys, joining in from the other side of the room. ‘My dad says that, during the war, he always left his back door open.’
‘That’s probably why his submarine sank, Gladys,’ offered Iris, glancing up from her knitting.
Geoffrey was brewing the tea. There was always tea available and they made sure it was proper tea, strong and sugary. Not newfangled herbal tea. Theirs was tea from a teapot, made with tea leaves and a tea-strainer. Dot had made a cake and Frank was passing the mints around. And the Past Master knew that after they’d eaten there’d be a sing-song and a game of Scrabble. But, most importantly, there would be chatter and laughter, and stories of when they’d visited the sea
side or worked in a factory. Or down the pit. Not that there are any pits any more, he thought. Or many factories, come to think of it. Everyone works in offices. On computers. But our little GoD project will put a stop to all that.
He eyed the machine. The tests had gone swimmingly. He looked at the huge map of Europe on the wall. Wales and Scotland already had big red crosses through them. Two down, he thought.
He was immensely proud of his creation. And now, instead of one laser, the diamonds had been arranged in such a way that it would shoot multiple beams, taking down dozens of satellites orbiting above Western Europe. The good old days would be returned. He imagined receiving his knighthood for ‘services to society’.
There was just one more diamond required and he knew exactly which one. The newspaper was spread out on the table before him, Shakespeare’s face leering at him, the diamond hanging heavily from his neck. This was the final piece of the jigsaw: this diamond would power the machine. A European blackout beckoned and, because there was no room for error, the Past Master had sent his best agent.
He wondered how Maude was getting on.
Maude had spotted the cat within five minutes of coming aboard the TriTanic. She spent her time observing from a distance. She knew it was important to choose the right moment. The old lady watched Professor Cortex overacting terribly, playing the role of Maximus Rich so well that he’d begun to believe it.
Shakespeare’s neck was aching. It’s a real effort keeping it held high, with the weight of the biggest carats in the world! But I’m playing a crucial role in capturing the diamond thief. He forced his neck upright. Here’s the diamond. Come and get it.
He’d been determined to keep his cat’s eyes peeled. But, by day two, the cruise was coming to an end and Shakespeare was feeling frustrated. He’d stayed alert, on the lookout for evil baddies. The cabaret had a magician who looked a bit shifty. The head chef’s eyes were too close together. But everyone else just seems kind of normal. Shakespeare had studied the pattern of diamond crimes and the professor’s words were ringing in his head. Old people. All the robbers have been very old indeed. He noticed there was an awful lot of wealth, which is to be expected on the world’s most expensive river cruise, but not any really old people.
It was on the second day that Shakespeare’s eyes met Maude’s. He knew at once that she was the thief. She’s the oldest person aboard. By a mile! She looks like such a sweet old lady and is therefore the most perfect diamond thief in the world, he thought. Shakespeare sat on the professor’s knee, holding his head extra high as Maude brushed past their table.
‘May I join you?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ smiled the scientist, pulling out a chair and sweeping crumbs off it.
The silver-haired lady and the professor got chatting. ‘I’m Maude from cabin five and I’ve got fifteen cats at home,’ she cooed, stroking Shakespeare at every opportunity. ‘What a lovely collar,’ she purred, rubbing her thumb over the Millennium Diamond. Shakespeare stiffened.
Professor Cortex was also suspicious, sniffing a diamond thief. ‘It’s the Millennium Diamond,’ he said grandly, using his poshest voice. ‘I’m a recluse called Maximus Cort – I mean Maximus Rich,’ he corrected himself.
‘Well, Maximus, why don’t I get you and I a little drinky?’ suggested Maude, creaking to her feet. ‘Let’s celebrate the last night of our cruise with a nice glass of bubbly.’
The old lady wobbled off to the bar. Shakespeare looked at the professor. He stared back, his eyes and mouth wide. ‘She’s the one,’ he hissed. ‘Did you see the way her beady eyes lit up when she rubbed your collar?’
Shakespeare nodded. He jabbed his paw at the professor’s cup. When she comes back your drink will be drugged. On guard, Prof, thought the cat. This mission is warming up nicely.
‘She’s coming!’ hissed Professor Cortex, as Maude collected her drinks from the bartender and started wobbling back to the table. ‘I’ll keep her busy, you check her cabin for diamonds, OK?’ he said out of the side of his mouth. ‘She’ll be trying to drug me. But I’m clever. I’ll double bluff.’ He tapped the side of his nose, ‘then when she’s asleep I’ll join you in cabin five.’
Shakespeare felt his heart thumping, his tail swishing in excitement. Sounds like a half-decent plan. He perched on the professor’s knee, waiting for the right moment to disappear and explore Maude’s cabin.
The elderly lady tottered back to the table, carrying two tall glasses. The professor was the world’s best scientist, but wasn’t really spy material. While his brain could conjure some magical inventions, it struggled to think under pressure.
Slowly and deliberately, Maude placed one glass in front of the professor and the other in front of herself. She eased back into her seat. ‘You look warm, Maximus,’ she said. ‘You’re sweating.’
Professor Cortex took a hankie from his top pocket and mopped his brow. He was doing his best. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that this lovely old lady was a diamond thief. ‘You like diamonds, don’t you, Maude?’ he blurted, staring into her eyes and trying not to blink.
‘I do,’ smiled Maude. ‘They say that diamonds are a girl’s best friend.’
‘I bet you have quite a collection.’
Maude smiled a knowing smile. ‘You know, don’t you?’ she said, a twinkle in her eighty-four-year-old eyes. ‘And you’re not a recluse, are you, Maximus?’
‘And you’re not a normal passenger, are you, Maude?’ said the professor, calm on the outside but panicking on the inside.
Shakespeare gulped. His heart was racing. This must be what humans mean when they talk about a cat-and-mouse game. His ears were on the conversation, but his eyes were on the drinks. The pattern of the diamond robberies is always the same. The old lady has obviously spiked the prof’s drink with a sleeping potion. He looked at the glasses, bubbles rising. She knows the professor is on to her. The only thing she doesn’t know is that I’m a secret agent cat, ready to pounce. But, as far as the diamond thief is concerned, I must behave like an ordinary mog.
Shakespeare sat on the professor’s knee and purred, trying to look like he imagined an ordinary cat would. Neither of the humans touched their drinks. Maude reached over and tickled Shakespeare behind the ear. ‘What a fabulous ship’s cat you’ve been,’ she cooed. ‘I see you’ve got two collars. A flashing one and a diamond one. How wonderful.’
Professor Cortex’s face was getting redder. He reached for his hankie and mopped again. ‘I know about you, Maude,’ he blurted. ‘And your little caper, and now you know I know. And me knowing you know I know makes things a little … you know … complicated,’ he smiled, losing track of what he was on about.
Maude looked confused. ‘You seem to know an awful lot, Maximus. All I know is that I’d like to propose a toast,’ she suggested, looking at the champagne glasses.
The professor imagined himself to be one step ahead. ‘Here’s another thing I know, Maude,’ he babbled, pointing at a London landmark behind the old lady. ‘There’s the Shard,’ he said. ‘London’s highest building. It’s so modern and striking. You really must look.’ His plan was to distract her so that he could swap his drugged champagne for her not-drugged one.
But Maude had been hand-picked for this mission. She didn’t think she was one step ahead of the professor, she absolutely knew she was. Shakespeare held his breath as she turned slowly and surely, giving the professor just enough time to switch the drinks.
Now he had the drugged one.
Phew! Nice move, Prof, thought Shakespeare, not suspecting a thing.
He winked at the cat. ‘Shoo,’ he mouthed. ‘Go and search her cabin.’ He jabbed a finger towards the other end of the boat. ‘I’ll be there in a minute or two.’
‘It is rather magnificent,’ smiled Maude, turning back to the professor. ‘I’ve heard that the view from the top is something special.’
The professor mopped his brow again, but was grinning broadly. Shakespeare dropped silentl
y to the floor. He heard the champagne glasses clinking, and the gentle conversation continued as he sloped off to cabin number 5.
11. Top Cat
Shakespeare had no trouble finding a way into cabin number 5. The porthole had been left conveniently open. Too conveniently? He jumped on to Maude’s bed and did a bit of snooping. It was evening time and darkness was settling over London. The cat couldn’t reach the light switch so was using his night-vision as best he could. Shakespeare’s heart was racing. This is soooo exciting. A proper mission. He was sure Professor Cortex would be joining him, just as soon as Maude had sipped her own sleeping potion and was fast off.
The cat checked all the places a cat could. Under the bed. Clear. On top of the wardrobe. Nothing. I hope the prof hurries up, he thought. His hands will be able to make light work of searching in the drawers and cupboards. There has to be a big stash of diamonds somewhere.
Shakespeare’s ears twitched as he heard footsteps shuffling along the corridor. At last! He yowled loudly. ‘In here, Prof.’
The cat came to full alertness when he heard the scratching sound of a key card being inserted in the door. A dark figure entered the cabin. Shakespeare meowed again. About time, he thought. This place is spooky on my own. We’ve got diamonds to find.
Maude was an expert on cats. She had spun the professor a web of lies that contained just one truth: she did have fifteen cats of her own. Shakespeare hissed as he was expertly plucked from the bed, the old lady grasping him firmly by the scruff of the neck.
He yowled and hissed again, his claws outstretched and his legs kicking in the darkness. Maude was a sprightly eighty-four-year-old and he was unceremoniously bundled into a bag, the zip sealing him in.
Shakespeare was in a panic. His mind was flooded with thoughts of the last time he was dumped in a bag. I hate bags. And water. And diamond thieves. And now I hate old ladies too. Let me out!
