by Andrew Cope
Squat wandered deeper into the steam room, one hand wafting away the mist.
Now, thought Lara, springing at the man.
She sank her teeth into his thigh and the steam room became a scream room. The bat came down full force but Squat had lost his focus through the pain and missed Lara, hitting the floor. Lara darted past him and out through the door. She slid the bolt into place and watched as the man hammered on the small steamed-up window. Lara could hear his muffled shouting. ‘Let me out, you stupid animal,’ he yelled, his fists banging hard. ‘Let me out!’
Stupid animal? considered Lara. Think again. I’m out here and you’re the one trapped in there. Lara turned the thermostat to Max. Full steam ahead, she thought as she bounded up the stairs towards the roof terrace. I have to stop the signal!
Harriet Hawk dropped her binoculars as Lara burst through the door on to the roof terrace and hurled herself at the radio tower.
‘Get away from my tower, you mutt!’ she yelled, clip-clopping across the stone terrace and leaping at the dog.
Lara scrambled up the metal bars of the tower mast, hanging her front paws over the bars and gripping them with her mouth to haul herself up as fast as she could.
‘Come down from there, you crazy pooch!’ screeched Harriet Hawk, leaping up at Lara. ‘I see what’s happened here,’ she panted as she began to climb up behind her. ‘The brainwashing was too much for you. It’s fried your tiny doggie brain.’
My brain’s in perfect working order, thought Lara, swinging her front paw to the next level and heaving herself up. But it’s so frustrating having paws! No grip! She looked down and saw Harriet Hawk rapidly closing the gap between them. She’s gaining!
Harriet Hawk had got the hang of climbing. Spurred by adrenaline and the fear of seeing her evil dream slipping away, she reached upwards and grabbed Lara’s back leg. She tugged and Lara nearly fell. The ex-Spy Dog kicked out and landed a well-practised blow on the lady’s nose. There was a scream from below but Lara didn’t have time to look. Her eyes were fixed on the flashing red light and the aerial at the top of the tower.
I have to stop the signal!
Lara felt the radio mast shake. Harriet Hawk was climbing up the tower like King Kong climbing up the side of the Empire State Building.
Clamping her aching jaws round the next strut, Lara struggled on, determined to get to the top, but the radio mast was beginning to creak and sway. Lara heard a crack as something snapped. Her heart raced as she realized, reaching out for the flashing red light at exactly the same time as Harriet Hawk, that the weight of two bodies was too much for the fragile structure to take. They were in danger of crashing to the ground at any moment.
Hercules was well trained. And he was very loyal to his owner. Harriet Hawk had taken care of him since he was a chick. As far as Hercules was concerned, Harriet Hawk was ‘Mummy’. And the one thing he really loved was her outstretched arm. It was her calling card. The rules were clear. An outstretched arm meant a safe place to land and, if he’d been a good bird, he was rewarded with some raw steak.
Hercules was bored with looking for the other puppy and, besides, the wriggling one he was carrying was getting heavy. And there, at the top of the tower, was his mum’s outstretched arm and the possibility of some raw steak. Hercules stopped flapping and started his descent. Tail feathers tucked in, eyes focused, he zoomed for home. Lara saw the eagle coming but Harriet Hawk hadn’t a clue. The eagle opened its claws as it homed in on Harriet’s arm. Spud fell towards the tower and the eagle landed on Harriet’s arm.
The evil lady was already off balance when the bird hit. She screamed as Hercules flapped his huge wings and tried to settle. Harriet Hawk lost her grip and tumbled down the radio mast, bouncing off the gym roof and landing in a prickly hedge below.
Ouch, thought Lara. That’s going to hurt!
Lara looked up and there was Spud, deposited at the top of the tower, balancing precariously on his round little tummy.
‘Hi, Ma!’ He waved weakly. ‘Fancy seeing you up here!’
Lara did a double take. ‘Hit that light, son!’ she woofed. ‘Stop the signal!’
Spud didn’t need asking twice. He thumped his rear end against the glass and it fell to the floor. He took the aerial in his jaws and expertly snapped it in half.
‘I think we’ve done it, Spud,’ woofed Lara. ‘I think we might just have saved all those children.’
Spud’s tail wagged so hard he nearly fell from the tower. ‘Don’t underestimate it, Ma,’ he woofed. ‘I reckon we might just have saved the world!’
By the time the professor and his secret service agents arrived the electric current had been switched off and terrified parents were yanking their exhausted children from the pool. Lara and the pups had made their way back into the gym and were wagging hard.
‘They’re coming round!’ woofed Star. ‘No more flashing ear lobes.’
Mr and Mrs Cook hauled Ollie out. They shook their heads and blinked.
‘What …?’ said Mr Cook.
‘Where …?’ said Mrs Cook.
‘Mum! Dad!’ yelled Ben, Sophie and Ollie. ‘You’re back!’
‘What are you doing down there?’ cried Mrs Cook. ‘Get out of that water this minute, before you catch your death!’
Ben laughed. ‘You don’t know how true that nearly was, Mum!’
As Ben and Sophie clambered out with the help of their dad, Mrs Cook pulled the three of them in for an enormous hug.
Ollie squeezed his mum back tightly. He’d been waiting days for that cuddle.
Sophie noticed Spud was hurt. She ran to him, squeezing the puppy a little too tightly. ‘You OK, little guy?’ she asked, her eyes watering as she examined his cuts.
Spud wagged hard. ‘Just a few scratches,’ he barked bravely. ‘From an angry bird.’
Star wagged harder and she jabbed a paw at the handcuffed mastermind of the gang. ‘And there’s Hawk,’ she yapped. ‘Another very angry bird.’
The hook-nosed woman shook her fist at Lara and the puppies. ‘I’d have got away with it,’ she scowled, ‘if it wasn’t for you meddling mutts.’
17. Tea with the PM
The prime minister stood stiffly in the middle of the Cooks’ back garden. Professor Cortex stood next to him, pink-faced with pride and, on the prime minister’s other side, an aide held a red velvet cushion with three medals resting on it.
Lara, Spud and Star were facing the prime minister, and the Cook family stood behind them, along with Agents T and K, and Mrs Brown from next door. Marmalade was curled up in her arms, licking his paws and pretending to be bored. Ollie had wandered off to inspect the prime minister’s helicopter.
‘This is Lara, sir,’ said Professor Cortex. ‘Or, to use her Spy Dog name, GM451.’
Lara stood to attention as the prime minister took one of the medals from the cushion and bent down to pin it to her new collar. ‘For canine bravery and services to the nation,’ he said as he straightened up again. ‘Your country owes you a great debt, Spy Dog.’
Don’t mention it, thought Lara, bringing up her front paw in a salute. She watched proudly as the prime minister pinned medals to Spud and Star’s collars too. The little crowd clapped and cheered, and even Marmalade gave a few miaows.
Ollie had never seen a helicopter in real life before. He walked round it, touching the shiny black paint in awe, before the pilot stopped him.
‘Don’t touch. Top secret, young man!’ he shouted, shooing the boy away.
‘So’s this,’ said Ollie, not to be outdone, juggling one of the professor’s llama spit balls from hand to hand.
The
ball fell to the ground.
‘Oops. That wasn’t supposed to happen.’ Ollie looked up guiltily. But nobody seemed to notice the small puff of yellow smoke and he sidled back to the prime minister’s speech.
‘So I would like you all to join me,’ said the PM, raising his glass, ‘in a toast.’
Toast? thought Spud. Where?
‘To the British government’s finest secret agents. Agent GM451 and her puppies, Star and Spud.’
‘Agent GM451, Star and Spud,’ murmured the crowd.
And everyone drank and cheered.
‘Erm, Mum.’ Ollie tugged on Mrs Cook’s best dress.
‘Not now, Ollie,’ she said, patting him on the head before turning to the prime minister. ‘Would you like some cake, sir?’
‘It’s one of my best recipes,’ Mrs Brown added. ‘Double chocolate and marshmallow cake!’
Spud licked his chops hungrily.
‘No, thank you,’ said the prime minister, glancing at his watch. ‘Must go. Things to do. Country to run.’
‘You can have a bounce on my trampoline before you go, if you want, Your Highness,’ offered Ollie.
‘I’ll pass,’ smiled the prime minister as his aide ushered him out through the garden gate.
The helicopter blades whirred into action and the PM and his aides lowered their heads against the force of the draught as they walked across the field, not noticing the shiny pile of slippery goo that lay ahead, sparkling in the sun.
Ollie held his breath. One of the agents was first to go. His feet went from under him and he landed on his backside. The PM was next, tripping over the secret agent face first into the goo. It took nearly ten minutes for the small gang to stop slithering around and make it into the helicopter.
When Mr and Mrs Cook, faces bright red in embarrassment, managed to stop apologizing, the sleek, black and orange helicopter eventually took off from the field behind the house and flew towards London.
The prime minister waved, but Ollie couldn’t help noticing his teeth were clenched.
Mrs Brown decided to rescue the moment. She cut her chocolate cake into slices and gave the biggest one to Spud. ‘That’s to say sorry for thinking you had hurt Marmalade, when really you were saving him from that horrible bird.’
‘Apology accepted,’ woofed Spud, before burying his face in his cake. Marmalade came to sit beside him, daintily eating the bits that fell from the plate.
‘I bet Harriet Hawk, Dumbbell and Squat won’t be getting treats like this in prison,’ said Sophie, licking chocolate from her fingers.
‘I think I’m going to get that spare tyre back, dear,’ said Mr Cook, going for a second slice of cake.
‘That’s all right,’ said Mrs Cook. ‘I prefer you cuddly.’
‘What about you, Ma?’ asked Star. ‘Do you think you’ll get your pooch paunch back?’
‘Well, if I do,’ woofed Lara, ‘I won’t be going to the gym to get rid of it. I’ve decided that gyms are very bad for my health!’
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)
Penguin Group (Australia), 707 Collins Street, Melbourne, Victoria 3008, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)
Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, Block D, Rosebank Office Park, 181 Jan Smuts Avenue, Parktown North, Gauteng 2193, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
puffinbooks.com
First published 2013
Text copyright © Andrew Cope and Ann Coburn, 2013
Illustrations copyright © James de la Rue, 2013
Cover illustrations by Andrew Farley
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted
Typeset by Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk, Stirlingshire
ISBN: 978-0-141-34428-7
Why should your eyes have all the fun?
Give your ears a treat and hear your favourite classics come to life!
Go to the Puffin Podcast on the all-new puffin.co.uk now!
Celebrity podcasters include Eoin Colfer, Meg Rosoff, Darren Shan and Garth Nix.
Hear Captain Hook in action, listen to Long John Silver, enjoy the sound of the Psammead and much, much more!
www.puffin.co.uk
It all started with a Scarecrow.
Puffin is well over sixty years old. Sounds ancient, doesn’t it? But Puffin has never been so lively. We’re always on the lookout for the next big idea, which is how it began all those years ago.
Penguin Books was a big idea from the mind of a man called Allen Lane, who in 1935 invented the quality paperback and changed the world. And from great Penguins, great Puffins grew, changing the face of children’s books forever.
The first four Puffin Picture Books were hatched in 1940 and the first Puffin story book featured a man with broomstick arms called Worzel Gummidge. In 1967 Kaye Webb, Puffin Editor, started the Puffin Club, promising to ‘make children into readers’. She kept that promise and over 200,000 children became devoted Puffineers through their quarterly instalments of Puffin Post, which is now back for a new generation.
Many years from now, we hope you’ll look back and remember Puffin with a smile. No matter what your age or what you’re into, there’s a Puffin for everyone. The possibilities are endless, but one thing is for sure: whether it’s a picture book or a paperback, a sticker book or a hardback, if it’s got that little Puffin on it – it’s bound to be good.
www.puffin.co.uk
