Chip O’Lata joined them, biting down on the rope and looking determined.
“I’m coming too. I’m fed up of just acting like a hero. I want to be one—like you guys,” said Vin Pain, grabbing hold of the rope just in time for the helicopter to whisk them all off the ground.
The helicopter flew over L.A., trailing a rope that carried a well-known action star, the president’s sausage dog, and four meerkats.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Vin Pain bellowed, his eyes shut tight.
“But you do all your own stunts,” Bruce shouted up. “What about that time you held onto a helicopter in Big Guns and Loud Bangs 3?”
“I was two feet off the ground when we filmed that!” he replied.
The side door of the helicopter opened and Sheffield leaned out. “Hey! It’s time for all of you to sign off!” he shouted.
They looked ahead and saw that the helicopter was flying low over the hills … sending them speeding toward the enormous Hollywood sign.
Vin opened his eyes. “Look out!” he cried.
“Swing the rope!” Chuck ordered. “Left first!”
Everyone leaned to the left.
“Now to the right!” yelled Chuck.
The rope swung like a pendulum, getting higher and higher with each push. Just in the nick of time, they built up enough momentum to swing the rope wide of the sign. They whizzed past the letter “Y”, mere millimeters from their doom.
Then the helicopter turned around and headed back toward the sign.
“Jet, this is a perfect opportunity to use the Super Looping Somersault Leap,” said Chuck. “Everyone else, we’re close enough to the ground now to jump safely. Let go of the rope when I count to three. One, two, three!”
What came next happened so fast, it was little more than a blur. While Jet hung onto the rope, the others dropped to the ground. As the helicopter approached one of the “O”s, Jet swung straight through the center of it, then up and over the top of the letter, and back through the hole, again and again, until the rope was tightly secured. Jet then leaped safely to the ground.
“Now that’s what I call a Super Looping Somersault Leap!” he cheered.
The helicopter tried to pull away, but it was well and truly stuck. Moments later, it began to lose control.
“Abandon helicopter!” cried the Ringmaster. He, Doris, Herr Flick, and the clowns, carrying the president, jumped to safety just before the abandoned helicopter crashed to the ground and exploded.
“Everything always explodes in Hollywood,” Donnie sighed, shaking his head.
“Get them, you fools!” cried the Ringmaster.
Vin raised his fists. “Things are getting rough around here … so I’m about to get tough!”
Herr Flick drew a knife and took aim. “As they say in the movies, cut!” he said, lobbing the knife at the actor.
But Bruce leaped at Vin, pushing him out of harm’s way.
“Thanks,” said Vin, looking shaken.
Meanwhile, the clowns both pulled out guns with enormous barrels.
Chuck drew his sword. “How about you pick on someone who isn’t your own size,” he said. “Before the Clan, each enemy cowers, for now we fight till victory is ours.”
“Hey, Sheffield,” said Grimsby. “If only my mother could see me now, in Hollywood on a shoot … She’d be so proud.”
The clowns pulled the triggers, and creamy white disk-shaped missiles shot at the meerkats.
“Exploding cream pies!” exclaimed Donnie, diving out of the way.
“Ninja-boom!” yelled Jet, dodging the cream pie. He sprang back up and kicked Sheffield in the stomach, sending him staggering backward.
“That’s a waste of good food,” said Bruce. He kicked at Grimsby’s legs so that he crumpled to the ground, then reached out and grabbed a handful of cream pie that had landed nearby.
Meanwhile, Chuck made short work of Herr Flick, knocking him down and using his own knives to pin him to the ground.
Donnie charged at Doris. She jumped up, spun around, and snapped at him, but he dodged her jaws and executed a high kick that sent her flying.
“You should’ve stuck to acting,” he said.
Farther up the hill, the Ringmaster was trying to make his getaway, the hypnotized president in tow, when a snarling Chip O’Lata appeared in front of him.
“Out of my way,” sneered the Ringmaster. “You think I’m scared of a dog named after a party snack?”
Chip growled angrily and lunged at the Ringmaster, but he kicked him away, sending the dog tumbling down the hill.
“Hey, it’s a sausage roll,” sniggered Grimsby, freeing Herr Flick.
“Yep, the chips are definitely down now,” said Sheffield.
As Vin leaped to Chip’s aid, catching the dizzy dog in his arms, a strange juddering sound filled the air.
Chuck looked up, and smiled at the sight of the approaching twin-propeller helicopters. “Look, Ringmaster!” yelled Chuck. “The U.S. Army is coming. Your evil plot will never succeed. Release the president!”
“You wretched meerkats!” the Ringmaster cried. “One day I will defeat you and the world will be mine. Sheffield, Grimsby, Doris, Herr Flick—it’s time we left. I think this president’s career is about to go downhill.” And with that, he pushed the president away, sending him tumbling down the slope after his dog.
Vin got himself into position again and caught the president, who looked dazed and confused. The tumble down the hill seemed to have broken him out of his hypnotized state.
“We can’t let the Ringmaster get away!” cried Jet, as the two clowns sent a shower of exploding cream pies into the air to cover their escape. But his voice could barely be heard above the sound of the helicopters.
“Nobody move,” said a voice from above. “This is the United States Military.”
“We must go too,” said Chuck. “We can only hope the military is quick enough to capture the Ringmaster.”
“What!” Jet wailed. “Surely, we can take the credit for this one.”
“It is not our way,” said Chuck. He looked at the president, who was patting his beloved dog. “Chip has his master back, the Ringmaster has been defeated, and the president is safe. The Clan of the Scorpion’s work is done.”
Vin ran over and joined them. “You guys aren’t leaving, are you?” he panted.
“I’m afraid so, Mr. Pain,” said Chuck. “And we would appreciate it if you didn’t mention us in the recounting of this adventure.”
“What should I say?” asked Vin.
“That is entirely up to you.”
“Meeting you was one of the most exciting things that has ever happened to me,” said Bruce.
“The pleasure was all mine,” Vin replied.
With a simple bow, the ninja meerkats disappeared into the undergrowth, unseen by the circling helicopters.
After leaving Vin, Chip, and the president, the meerkats made their way back to the studio and retrieved the hot-dog van. They drove to a nearby suburb and parked it on a residential street for the night.
“We should stay in town for a little while longer,” said Chuck. “See if we can pick up any more news of the Ringmaster.”
“And maybe squeeze in a little sightseeing too,” said Bruce hopefully.
After an uncomfortable night’s sleep in the back of the van, Chuck, Jet, and Bruce were woken by Donnie, who was watching a news report on his mobile phone.
“Check this out,” said Donnie, turning up the volume.
“In a story straight from a film plot, there was a bold attempt to kidnap the president yesterday, which was thwarted by none other than action star Vin Pain and the president’s own dog, Chip O’Lata.”
“I can’t believe they took all the credit,” moaned Jet.
“The man behind the plot was the director and producer of Vin Pain’s latest film, Evil Plots and Good Dogs. Very little is known about him except that he goes by the name of ‘the Ringmaster.’ Authorities say
he is still at large. Celebrity dog trainer Honor Longlead has also been arrested in connection with the plot.”
The phone’s screen showed Honor being led away by the police, as hordes of flashing cameras took her picture, then the report moved on to another news story.
“Can we go sightseeing now?” asked Bruce.
“On one condition: You act as our tour guide,” said Chuck. “After all, on this mission it was you who proved to be the expert.”
“Excellent!” Bruce exclaimed with a grin.
“Hey, do you think they’ll make a film about us one day?” asked Donnie.
“Yeah, called something like Jet Flashfeet: Ninja-boom!” suggested Jet.
“No way,” argued Bruce. “It’d be called Bruce Willowhammer: Force of Nature.”
“I think Enter the Dragonjab is a pretty good title,” said Donnie.
“Yeah, right,” Jet and Bruce chorused.
“There could never be a film of our exploits,” said Chuck. “Secrecy, discretion, and humility are key to our success.”
The others groaned.
“But if there was a film,” he added with a smile, “it would probably be called Chuck Cobracrusher: King of Ninjas.”
“Of course!” Donnie replied, as Jet and Bruce laughed. “Come on—we’ve got sights to see.”
“And snacks to sample,” added Bruce. “Let’s go!”
It had been almost a month since the Clan of the Scorpion last encountered their deadly enemy the Ringmaster and his circus goons. They were enjoying a welcome break from saving the world back at their secret underground base in the Red Desert.
Or, at least, three of them were enjoying the break.
“I’m bored,” moaned Jet, as he entered the main chamber of their burrow, trailing his nunchucks behind him.
“You could give me a hand with this,” said Donnie, who was struggling with something flat, rectangular, and twice his size.
Bruce looked up from his bag of dry-roasted crickets. “What is that?” he asked.
“It’s our new TV,” said Donnie proudly, placing it on a table by the wall. “It’s got a high-definition plasma screen and surround-sound speakers. Welcome to the future, my friends.”
Chuck, who had been meditating silently in the corner, opened one eye. “Why do we need such a thing?” he asked. “We would only use it for keeping up with what is happening in the outside world, and we can already do that through the Internet.”
“Ah, but it also has a Web cam,” said Donnie. “That means that once I’ve hooked it up, we’ll be able to receive video calls on the big screen instead of on my smartphone!” He pulled a remote control and some cables from his pocket, and connected the TV to the power and the router.
“Hey, we could watch action films on it too!” Bruce pointed out. “Vin Pain has got a new movie out—it’s called Lethal Biscuit Two: Redunked.”
“Films are no substitute for the real thing,” said Jet, spinning around and whacking a punching bag. “I’m so bored.”
“You should be using this time for quiet meditation and practicing the art of kung fu, Jet,” said Chuck. “Haven’t you a new technique to work on?”
“Well, I was trying to learn one called the Squeeze of Rigidity,” said Jet.
“That sounds cool,” said Bruce. “What is it?”
“It’s a move that causes your opponent’s muscles to freeze, putting them out of action temporarily,” Jet replied. “But my kung-fu manual went missing.”
“You can borrow this one,” said an elderly voice. “It is most entertaining.”
Grandmaster One-Eye entered the chamber, clutching a book.
“Hey,” exclaimed Jet. “That is my book!”
“Oh, is it?” asked the ancient meerkat. “Well, it’s reminded me about some of the moves I used to do. When you get to my age, the jogging of one’s memory is just about the only kind of jogging you can manage.” He smiled and handed it to Jet.
“Did you ever perform the Squeeze of Rigidity, Grandmaster?” Jet asked.
“Oh yes, I was something of an expert at that one in my day.”
“Would you demonstrate it for me?” asked Jet excitedly. “I’ve been practicing, but I can’t work out how hard you need to—”
Grandmaster One-Eye reached out his paw and gently squeezed Jet’s arm, cutting him short. Jet fell backward, his body completely rigid. Bruce jumped up and caught him just before he crashed to the floor.
“’ot ’id you ’o ’hat ’or?” mumbled Jet.
“Well, you did ask him to demonstrate the move,” said Chuck with a wry smile. “And at least you’re not bored anymore.”
“No,” Donnie laughed. “Now he’s as stiff as a board.”
Jet groaned.
“How long will he be like this for?” asked Bruce, laying him gently on the ground.
“Feeling will return to his body gradually over the next few hours,” said One-Eye, looking quite pleased with himself.
“A ’ew ’ours?” Jet exclaimed.
“I believe the toes regain feeling first. He’ll be as right as rain soon enough,” the Grandmaster assured them. “The Squeeze of Rigidity, eh? Who would have thought I still had the knack!”
A ringing sound suddenly echoed around the burrow.
“What’s that?” asked Bruce.
“An incoming call,” said Donnie. “We can try out the new Web cam!”
Donnie clicked the remote control and a single eye appeared on the enormous TV. The owner of the eye moved back to reveal a meerkat bearing a striking resemblance to Chuck, standing in a tunnel and wearing a sand-colored robe.
“It’s my brother, Lob,” said Chuck. “Lob, it has been too long! How is Cairo?”
“Greetings to you, Chuck,” said Lob hurriedly. “I am afraid this is not a social call. I need your help.”
“Grillian’!” said Jet.
“What did he say?” asked Lob.
“Don’t ask,” said Chuck. “What do you need help with?”
Lob checked over his shoulder, then whispered, “It is not safe for me to explain over a video call. Please come to Cairo and I will tell you everything.”
“We will catch the next flight out,” promised Chuck. “How will we find you when we get there?”
“Just tell me when you are due to arrive and I’ll find you,” said Lob. “Please hurry.”
The screen went blank and Chuck turned to the others. “We have a mission.”
“So, you’re off to Egypt, eh? I once fought the Crazy Camels of Cairo there,” said Grandmaster One-Eye with a wistful smile.
“Really? How did you defeat them?” asked Chuck.
“Oh, they were no match for my moves.” One-Eye demonstrated with a karate chop that accidentally knocked over a row of fighting staffs. “Eventually they got the hump and ran off.”
Donnie sniggered, but Chuck bowed respectfully. “You are indeed a worthy adversary, Grandmaster. But if you will excuse us, we must be on our way. Bruce, bring Jet. To the Meer-kart!”
GOFISH
QUESTIONS FOR THE AUTHOR
Gareth P. Jones
What did you want to be when you grew up?
At various points, a writer, a musician, an intergalactic bounty hunter and, for a limited period, a graphic designer. (I didn’t know what that meant, but I liked the way it sounded.)
When did you realize you wanted to be a writer?
I don’t remember realizing it. I have always loved stories. From a very young age, I enjoyed making them up. As I’m not very good at making things up on the spot, this invariably involved having to write them down.
What’s your most embarrassing childhood memory?
Seriously? There are too many. I have spent my entire life saying and doing embarrassing things. Just thinking about some of them is making me cringe. Luckily, I have a terrible memory, so I can’t remember them all, but no, I’m not going to write any down for you. If I did that, I’d never be able to forget them.
&
nbsp; What’s your favorite childhood memory?
To be honest with you, I don’t remember my childhood very well at all (I told you I had a bad memory), but I do recall how my dad used to tell me stories. He would make them up as he went along, most likely borrowing all sorts of elements from the books he was reading without me knowing.
As a young person, who did you look up to most?
My mom and dad, Prince, Michael Jackson, all of Monty Python, and Stephen Fry.
What was your favorite thing about school?
Laughing with my friends.
What was your least favorite thing about school?
I had a bit of a hard time when I moved from the Midlands to London at the age of twelve because I had a funny accent. But don’t worry, it was all right in the end.
What were your hobbies as a kid? What are your hobbies now?
I love listening to and making music. My hobbies haven’t really changed over the years, except that there’s a longer list of instruments now. When I get a chance, I like idling away the day playing trumpet, guitar, banjo, ukulele, mandolin (and piano if there’s one in the vicinity). I also like playing out with my friends.
What was your first job, and what was your “worst” job?
My first job was working as a waiter. That’s probably my worst job, too. As my dad says, I was a remarkably grumpy waiter. I’m not big on all that serving-people malarkey.
What book is on your nightstand now?
I have a pile of books from my new publisher. I’m trying to get through them before I meet the authors. I’m halfway through Maggot Moon by Sally Gardner, which is written in the amazing voice of a dyslexic boy.
How did you celebrate publishing your first book?
The first time I saw one of my books in a shop, I was so excited that I caused something of a commotion. I managed to persuade an unsuspecting customer to buy it so I could sign it for her son.
Where do you write your books?
Anywhere and everywhere. Here are some of the locations I have written the Ninja Meerkats series: On the 185 and the 176 buses in London, various airplanes, Hong Kong, Melbourne, all over New Zealand, a number of cafes and bars between San Diego and San Francisco, New Quay in South Wales, and my kitchen.
Hollywood Showdown Page 4
