Mom continued to moan in the background when a white van suddenly turned the corner into our street.
I watched as it slowed down outside our house. Then, quick as a flash, the back doors flew open.
An arm snatched Tiddles and the van screeched away!
I focused my binoculars on the speeding vehicle and saw the words “Smith’s Fish” in blue lettering along the side.
The van belonged to the fish shop around the corner!
“Aha!” I said. At last I finally had a lead.
“Aha?” Mom asked, as I clambered down the branches.
“Oh, I was … watching an Aha Bird building a nest,” I said. “They’re very rare.”
Mom frowned at my sweater and brushed pieces of bark and twigs away with her hand.
“I can’t imagine why Gran agreed to knit you a black one,” Mom sighed. “It really is the worst color for showing dust and things. And besides, black isn’t very cheery for a girl of your age.”
“I like it,” I shrugged.
Of course my real reason for choosing black was that it would come in handy during nighttime stakeouts. Also, when you’re up a tree in the daytime, a bright pink sweater would be a dead giveaway. You have to think ahead when you’re a secret agent.
Mom was heading back to the house when I suddenly had an idea.
“Can we have fish for dinner tonight?” I asked, tagging along behind.
“But you don’t like fish,” she said. “The last time we had fish, you were ill.”
“That was when I was little,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I like it now.”
“Hmmm, well, if you’re sure,” Mom said uncertainly. “But you’ll have to go to the fish shop for me. I’m not going out again just because you’ve decided you like fish all of a sudden.”
“OK,” I said casually. I slipped on my sunglasses.
On the way to Smith’s Fish, I collected “LOST CAT” posters from all the trees and lampposts. Now that I knew who’d swiped the missing kitties, I’d need a list of telephone numbers to return them.
Outside the fish shop I tucked the posters into my backpack and rummaged around for an appropriate disguise. Mom’s mention of Gran had already given me an idea.
I pulled on an old raincoat, crammed a short curly wig on my head, and tied a see-through plastic rain hood on top of it. It wasn’t raining—but old ladies often wear rain hoods when it’s not raining.
A bell rang as I tottered into Smith’s Fish.
A short, plump man hurried out from the back of the shop and glared at me. I guessed this was Mr. Smith. He stood over the counter, folded his arms, and sighed.
Maybe he thought he had better things to do than serve old ladies—things like pinching people’s pets!
“What do you want?” he demanded.
“I’d like some fish, please,” I croaked, hunched over and gazing at the counter.
There wasn’t a lot of fish to choose from, just a couple of shrimp and a crab. I guessed all the fish had been used up keeping the stolen cats happy. It must not be working, judging by the scratches on Mr. Smith’s hands.
“What kind of fish do you want?” he asked impatiently.
“Two nice pieces of haddock, please,” I said, peering over my sunglasses.
“We’re all out of haddock,” he snapped. “It’s either shrimp, crab, or nothing.”
“Oh, well in that case, I’ll just have two nice pieces of haddock, please,” I croaked. While Mr. Smith was busy getting angry, I surveyed the shop for any signs of cats. The great thing about the old-lady disguise is you can keep people distracted for ages while you carry out basic surveillance.
“ARE YOU DEAF?” he yelled. “I SAID WE’RE ALL OUT OF HADDOCK!”
“Yes, haddock,” I said. “Two nice pieces, please.”
This went on for a while. Mr. Smith was getting very red in the face, when a short, plump woman appeared behind him. I figured this must be Mrs. Smith. She didn’t look very happy either.
“What’s going on out here?” she growled, glaring sideways at her husband.
“This deaf old lady wants HADDOCK!” he growled back.
Mrs. Smith offered me an unconvincing smile.
“Then fetch some from the back!” she snarled.
“But …” said Mr. Smith.
“The job’s going down tonight, so we won’t need it anymore,” hissed Mrs. Smith, through gritted teeth.
“And you’re drawing too much attention by standing here shouting about HADDOCK!”
The other great thing about the old-lady disguise is that people always think you’re deaf. They think you can’t hear them and always give away vital details.
Mrs. Smith gave me another fake smile, grabbed her husband by the elbow, and marched him out to the back of the shop. They started arguing. I couldn’t hear everything, but I did hear: “Keep a low profile!” and, “Get rid of her!”
The reason I couldn’t hear them properly was because I’d leaped over the counter. I was busy rummaging through a pile of papers. I was looking for clues to the exact location of the cats.
Among the bills and receipts, I found a strange map!
I didn’t have time to look properly, but I did see the word cat among the various scribbles. Deciding the map must lead to the cats, I shoved it in my raincoat and crept back around the counter.
Mr. Smith suddenly reappeared with a parcel wrapped in white paper.
“Two nice pieces of haddock, ma’am,” he said politely.
I didn’t get a chance to study the map before dinner, so that evening I pretended to have an upset tummy. I asked to go to bed early.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you have fish,” Mom sighed.
I shrugged my shoulders helplessly and shuffled off to my room.
Closing my bedroom door carefully, I ran to the desk, flicked on the lamp, and unfolded the piece of paper. On closer inspection, I discovered it wasn’t a map at all. It was a blueprint.
A blueprint of the local bank!
There was a diagram over the blueprint with drawings of cats and arrows pointing in and out of the bank. I couldn’t figure out exactly how, but it was clear the Smiths had stolen the cats so they could rob a bank!
It surprised me that Mr. and Mrs. Smith were only robbing a bank and not planning to take over the world. Everything about them said criminal mastermind to me. Then I turned the paper over and found a note scribbled in the corner.
“After robbery—steal more cats and then TAKE OVER THE WORLD!”
I knew it!
I also knew from Mrs. Smith’s careless whispering that the job was going down tonight. I didn’t have much time. I stuffed my backpack full of gadgets. I dressed in black pants, black sweater, and a black cap. Then I shimmied down the downspout and headed straight for Main Street.
I got to the bank just as Mr. and Mrs. Smith pulled up in their van.
Diving into a nearby doorway, I watched from the shadows as Mrs. Smith tiptoed around the back of the vehicle. She flung the rear doors open and clapped her hands twice. Suddenly dozens of cats spilled from the van and gathered around her feet.
Mrs. Smith pulled a piece of fish from her pocket and whistled through her fingers. All the cats immediately sat bolt upright and gazed at her intently. Then she whistled again, and they formed an orderly line outside the bank.
The cats had all been trained!
I watched in amazement as the woman crouched down and began whistling a series of complicated commands. Each pair of furry ears twitched in turn as she gave the cats their instructions and a small piece of fish. Then she stood up and pointed to the bank.
Suddenly all the cats sprang into action. Some scaled the downspout. Others climbed up to the first-floor windows. And a couple of the smaller ones clambered through the bank’s deposit box. Each cat found its own way inside the bank until there were none left on the sidewalk beside Mrs. Smith.
Mr. Smith stayed in the van the whole time revving the engine. He was
obviously the getaway driver. But that also meant that once the cats returned, the Smiths would speed away with all the cats and the loot!
I decided there was no way to stop the van without getting squashed. I had to somehow prevent the animals from returning to the van. And I had to think fast because the first of the cat burglars had already returned—followed by another, then another….
Some of the cats had wads of money in their mouths. Others were holding bags of coins. A few were even wearing diamond tiaras and matching necklaces. They looked very pleased with themselves!
Mrs. Smith stood among them and seemed to be counting heads.
I rummaged frantically in my backpack for a gadget that might help me out. I needed something to create a diversion or lure the cats away. But there was nothing appropriate.
Then I glanced down at my sweater….
Quick as a flash, I snagged a thread. I pulled a long length of yarn from my sleeve and leaped from my hiding place.
“Here, puss-puss!” I shrieked.
Waving my arm in the air, I dashed past a startled Mrs. Smith and through the pack of cats. I twitched and dangled the yarn over their bobbing heads.
As I’d hoped, they started leaping up and swiping at the yarn with their paws.
I definitely had their attention. Before Mrs. Smith could figure out what was happening, I escaped down the street trailing the yarn behind me. The cats followed me, leaving Mrs. Smith alone outside the bank with her mouth hanging open.
Mr. Smith honked the horn, and his wife jumped back into the van. With a sudden shrieking of tires, they chased me—and the trail of rich kitties—down the street.
Mr. Smith was waving his fist in the air, and Mrs. Smith was hanging out of the window clapping and whistling frantically. Luckily, the cats were more interested in the yarn and completely ignored them. But the van was quickly gaining.
I turned into the nearest alley and heard the van screech to a halt behind me. Mr. and Mrs. Smith leaped out. They started chasing on foot. Glancing back, I saw their faces were very red. I wasn’t sure if it was anger or because they were both short and plump and not used to running.
I had to think fast!
With no time to open my backpack, I looked down at my sweater again.
The yarn from my right sleeve was still trailing behind me, so I started unraveling the left one. I pulled out great long loops of yarn one after the other. By the time I reached the street, I had a big armful of tangled yarn.
I turned the corner and crouched behind the wall.
The cats gathered around my feet tapping the limp thread half-heartedly, when suddenly the panting couple staggered out of the alley. I immediately jumped up and threw the tangle of yarn over their heads like a big, black spiderweb.
With the excitement of so much dangling yarn, the cats went nuts again and started jumping all over the place. They swiped at anything that moved. They mostly swiped at Mr. and Mrs. Smith, who were trying to snatch the cash.
In all the confusion, I circled the fishy couple as fast as I could. I wound yarn around their arms and legs like a spider wrapping a fly. The more their greedy hands grabbed for the loot, the more entangled they became.
Eventually I ran out of yarn and there was nothing left of my black sweater, but by this time, the catnappers were just a big, black blob. They were so knotted up that they couldn’t move an inch.
The cats were still swiping at loose yarn dangling from the wrapped-up crooks when I noticed people were stopping to see what was going on. It must have seemed very peculiar.
When you’re a secret agent, you can’t take credit for saving the world all the time. If you did, you wouldn’t be secret anymore. So I pulled my hat down over my face while I worked out what to do next.
Police sirens wailed in the distance, but I couldn’t stick around to explain what had happened.
I had to think fast.
Squinting through the wool of my hat, I rummaged inside my backpack again. I was desperately looking for a gadget that might get me out of another sticky situation.
Instead, I found the “LOST CAT” posters and the bank blueprint!
“Aha!” I said
I pulled some loose yarn from the tangle and attached the blueprint firmly to the heads of Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Then I stuck all the “LOST CAT” posters around the whole bundle. The police would definitely need to know who to phone once they’d rounded up the kidnapped cats.
Now that the case was completely solved, I pulled on my backpack and disappeared into the night (in true secret agent style). I did bump into a few people on the way because I couldn’t really see where I was going.
I managed to sneak back into my room without Mom knowing. The next day I got into a little trouble for “losing” my black sweater. Mom didn’t make a big deal about it, though. I think she was secretly pleased.
In fact, Mom was so not annoyed that she rushed out and bought a bundle of bright pink yarn. Then Gran set to work knitting me a brand-new sweater.
Which was OK, because I like pink… when I’m not busy being a secret agent.
“Must you carry that big backpack everywhere you go, Amelia?” Mom asked. I climbed into the backseat of the car. “I really can’t imagine what you think you need. We’re only going to the garden center for plant food for my roses. What’s in there?”
“Just dolls,” I lied, peering over my sunglasses.
Mom rolled her eyes as we drove away. She started giving me a lecture about how I was too old to be playing with dolls. She said I should make some real friends.
My backpack was actually full of secret agent equipment, but I couldn’t tell Mom. She’d worry about me. Saving the world can be dangerous, and Mom was definitely better off thinking I was playing with dolls.
I was on a secret mission to investigate suspicious activity going on at the garden center. Sightings of strange creatures—stuff like that. But it was too far away for me to bike. So every night after school, I crept into the garden to sabotage Mom’s rosebushes. I’m not proud of it. I didn’t do any real damage. I just had to make sure they looked sad and droopy by the weekend.
You have to think ahead when you’re a secret agent.
I thought I was prepared for anything when we reached the garden center, but I hadn’t expected to run into Trudy Hart! Trudy is in my class, and we don’t get along.
“Isn’t that your friend?” Mom asked, when she spotted Trudy. She was wandering through the leafy aisles with her dad. Mom must have seen Trudy and me arguing at school or something and guessed we were friends.
“No,” I said flatly. “She’s really not.” “Yoo-hoo!” Mom shrieked. She grabbed my arm and pulled me over to Trudy and her dad. They were arguing over plants. It sounded like Trudy wanted only pink flowers in the garden. She was giving her dad a really hard time about it.
Trudy and I glared at each other. Our parents decided she and I should go off together to look at flowers. We’d all meet at the checkout lane in an hour. Mom was clearly delighted that I’d be spending time with a real person instead of a doll. Trudy’s dad seemed only too pleased to dump her on me.
Parents always think that just because another kid is the same age, you should have no problems being best friends with them. They don’t even think about whether you have anything in common. Trudy and I have nothing in common. She’s really popular at school. I don’t have time to be popular because I’m too busy saving the world all the time.
“’Bye, then,” I said to Trudy, as soon as we were out of sight of our parents.
“Yeah, good riddance!” snapped Trudy.
At the end of the aisle, Trudy went one way, and I went the other.
I had an investigation to carry out. I couldn’t risk Mom and Trudy seeing me in secret agent mode—or interfering while I’m trying to save the world. So I hid behind a large potted fern and searched inside my backpack.
I pulled on a big yellow summer dress over my clothes. I tucked my hair under a frizzy blo
nde wig, and then I crammed a big floppy sun hat on top. I could hardly see through the frizzy bangs and the brim of the hat. I hoped that meant no one would recognize me.
Turning the corner, my disguise was immediately put to the test. I ran straight into Mom!
“Why, I have that exact same dress!” Mom said.
It’s no wonder she recognized it. It was Mom’s dress! But I couldn’t stand and talk about it. Mom might also recognize her floppy sun hat and realize it was me.
“This old rag?” I shrieked, in my best impression of an old woman’s voice. “It’s hideous. I only ever use it for gardening!” And with that, I grabbed the nearest plant. I barged past Mom like I was the rudest woman in the world.
“Well, really!” Mom exclaimed, shaking her head angrily.
I quickly put the plant into a nearby cart. I whizzed off to the opposite end of the garden center. There I set to work looking for clues. I filled the cart as I went along like a real shopper would do.
You have to blend in when you’re carrying out surveillance. It looks odd if you’re just sneaking around.
#1 Ghost Diamond! (Agent Amelia) Page 2
