Spy Cat (4 page)

Shakespeare glanced around the office to see what else he could find.
Lara's top-secret hidey-hole
,
he thought
. There's bound to be something I can learn.
His eye caught the newspaper clippings. Lara's picture was in nearly every single one, the same as before. But this time the writing made sense. He furrowed his brow and looked closer.
Amazing! The jumble is un-jumbled!
He squinted closely at the news clippings.
I can read the letters. The words make sense!
He glanced at a headline,
Top Dog Nets Master Criminal
. He read the smaller writing underneath.
Local canine Lara rounded up an entire criminal gang …
he read, before moving on to another story.
Scientist's Invention Goes Global
was the headline.
What on earth's happening to me?
thought the cat.

Shakespeare's paw went to his collar. He unclicked it, the light went off and the words became scrambled once more. He clicked it back shut and the words became clear again.
Magic! I'm the first cat in the world that can read English
, he thought, purring loudly and strutting along the desk, devouring the various newspaper clippings. Shakespeare was absorbed. In less than an hour he'd learnt that Lara was the world's first ever Licensed Assault and Rescue Animal.
Codenamed GM451 but affectionately known as LARA.
And that she was a very highly trained secret agent, a product of Professor Cortex's Spy School. Through newspaper articles and what appeared to be official government reports, Shakespeare read about the various adventures and an array of baddies that made his fur stand on end. One criminal in particular, Mr Big, sounded particularly evil.
Good job he's tucked away behind bars.
There was even a YouTube clip on the laptop, showing Lara doing a daring sea rescue.
That's one amazing mutt
,
Shakespeare reluctantly admitted to himself.

Tingling with excitement, Shakespeare jumped off the desk and nosed in the professor's briefcase.
This is where I found the collar. Let's see
what else I can find.
There was a folder marked
Top Secret
. This Shakespeare wanted to see. He dragged it out of the case with his mouth and spread it open with his paws. The first few pages were pencil scribblings in the professor's spidery handwriting. Numbers and formulas and diagrams.
Even the collar can't help me decipher those,
thought Shakespeare. Page five was a computer printout.
Translating pet collar
, read the cat.
Prototype. Untested. Uses FMRI imaging to match the animal's brain frequency with that of humans. Extreme caution. For evolutionary stability, not to be used on primates.
Shakespeare still wasn't sure what this meant. He licked his paw and turned the page, looking for something simpler.
Unscrambles words and allows animals to read English
,
and understand the spoken word,
read the cat.
I knew it!

Shakespeare spent the entire day in Lara's office and he didn't catnap once.
There's so much information to absorb,
he thought, engrossing himself in newspaper clippings, top-secret documents and the professor's video clips.
If I'm going to be top cat in this or any other neighbourhood I need to take this opportunity and learn as much as I can.
He read about Lara's background and details of the professor's amazing Spy School.
He absorbed himself in the different types of dogs, noting the strengths and weaknesses of each.
You never know when this information could come in useful,
he thought, hoping he'd never come into contact with a Rottweiler.

A plan was forming in Shakespeare's mind and, by the end of the afternoon, he had decided what he would do.
A loner never stays in one place for long. I can't afford to get too comfortable,
he thought.
One more week in this house and then I'll move on. With this collar I'll be able to rule any neighbourhood I choose.

Shakespeare glanced at the clock.
The kids will be back from swimming any minute
,
he thought.
I'd better escape while I can.
He snapped the case shut and glanced at his reflection in the laptop screen, admiring his flashing collar.
It's been a good day's work.
Shakespeare hit the button and was returned to the fireplace, just as Ollie and Ben came screaming into the lounge. The cat held his breath and covered the flashing light with his paw, but the boys were too excited to notice him hiding behind a vase.

‘Camping!' yelled Ollie. ‘I never thought Mum would say yes.'

‘And just us kids,' grinned his big brother. ‘No grown-ups.'

‘Midnight feasts,' yipped Ollie.

Sophie came into the lounge and threw her school bag on to a chair. ‘It won't be the same without Lara,' she huffed. ‘I'm missing her already. And when we go away she's always been there to protect us.'

‘So a chance for some extra excitement and danger,' smiled Ollie.

‘And she'd only worry needlessly if she knew,' Ben added, his eyes gleaming at the thought of such an adventure – just the three of them, all by themselves. ‘So there's no point trying to get a message to her now.'

‘I guess not,' agreed Sophie doubtfully.

Nobody noticed Shakespeare's eyes peeping from behind the vase. His collar blinked silently as he absorbed the conversation. He glanced at the boys, their faces shining with excitement. But his eyes were fixed on Sophie. Her freckles reminded him so much of his previous life.
A life spent on a warm knee. Being tickled behind the ear and purring non-stop.
Shakespeare's head told him to move on.
With my new collar I can go back to life on the streets with a massive advantage. Knowledge is power
,
he told himself.
Nobody will boss me around again.

 

 

But Shakespeare's heart was telling him a different story.
The boys are talking about danger. And Lara's not here to protect them.
He looked again at the little girl's freckles and thought about Lara's ‘rule number one'.

Shakespeare's thirst for knowledge was now almost unquenchable. While the house was quiet he read the paper and watched TV in Ben's room. The cartoons were great and the cooking programmes made him drool. But he
loved action movies most of all and soon became addicted to James Bond.
Cool car. And gadgets.
If Shakespeare was going to have the skills of a super spy, here was someone he could learn from.
Bond is 007. Hmmm, if cats really do have nine lives, maybe I can be 009?

He worked out how to surf the Web, gradually learning to tap the keys on Ben's laptop, and updated the boy's Facebook page so he ‘liked' Cat Woman. He studied a map that was opened out on Ben's desk and read the boy's history homework, absorbing himself in the spy games of the Second World War.

 

 

The week sped by. Tomorrow would be Shakespeare's final day in the Cook household and as he lay in the warm indentation of Sophie's duvet, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling about the camping trip.
Lara won't be around to accompany the kids
, he thought.
And ‘rule number one' means one of the other animals should volunteer.
So, in a final act of feline goodwill, Shakespeare decided to introduce himself at the next neighbourhood-watch meeting.

Connie was in charge, sitting tall and proud. Archie was taking the register. ‘May I introduce myself,' miaowed the cat. ‘My name is
Shakespeare but you can call me Shaky. Or 009? And I have some important information.' Archie looked confused. Shakespeare picked up a nearby ball and flicked it into next door's garden and the dog was away, sniffing furiously. Shakespeare approached Connie directly. ‘Hello,' he said. ‘I'm new to the neighbourhood and have been watching how you operate. Lara's put you in charge while she's away. Right?' Connie looked the ginger puss up and down, admiring the flashing collar but suspicious of the new cat on the block. ‘Right,' she yowled rather coldly. ‘And I suppose you want to be part of our team?'

‘No,' miaowed Shakespeare. ‘I'm moving on tomorrow. But I have some information about “rule number one”.'

Connie looked shocked. ‘How do you know about rule number one?' she hissed. ‘That's classified information.'

‘Doesn't matter,' miaowed Shakespeare. ‘But I know that your job is to look after the safety of the children. And I have useful information,' he continued, looking around to check the coast was clear. ‘Did you know, for instance, that the kids are going camping later today?
It's a last-minute decision that Lara didn't know about, otherwise she'd never have agreed to leave with Professor Cortex.'

‘Are they indeed,' said Connie, swishing her tail in annoyance.
How could this new cat know so much? Unless he was a spy? Lara had said to be alert at all times. Maybe the danger wasn't from humans?
Connie was doing what Lara had encouraged her to do, exercising extreme caution and ‘thinking outside the box'. ‘Our job is to look after the neighbourhood,' she said. ‘We're a
neighbourhood
-watch team.'

‘Rule number one,' reminded Shakespeare, ‘means your priority is the children. What if they go camping? What if they leave the neighbourhood? There'll be nothing left for you to watch.'

Connie's chest was puffed out in self-importance but Shakespeare could tell by the tail swishing that she was nervous. She was clearly suspicious of him as a new cat. He must have seemed too cool, too casual and probably, Shakespeare thought in hindsight, too well informed. Archie arrived back with the ball in his mouth. He dropped it, tail wagging furiously.

‘Archie,' purred Lara's second-in-command,
‘will you please escort this intruder off the premises.'

The problem with hiding in the cool box is that it's seriously freezing cold!
thought Shakespeare.

The only light was the red flash from his collar.
And there's not much room.
Shakespeare didn't like to think about how much oxygen there was left. He'd eaten two fish-paste sandwiches to make a bit more space. Mum had put two ice packs in the box and Shakespeare was curled up, trying to keep his body away from them. He was annoyed at being excluded from the neighbourhood-watch team. But he tried to be generous to Connie.
She's a cat,
he thought,
so should be highly intelligent. I guess she was just doing her duty and being on the safe side. While Connie and the team watch the neighbourhood, I'll do the real secret agent work. I'll watch the children. It's not that I care if they need me – it's just that I need the spying experience. It's a chance to get off my normal patch, learn some new stuff and stretch my comfort zones.
Shakespeare nodded confidently to himself. This was a good plan.

The car trundled along a bumpy road.
Good news
, thought the stowaway,
that must mean
we're nearly at the campsite.
The car stopped and he heard muffled excitement outside. Car doors opened. Someone lifted the cool box from the boot and he felt himself being placed on the grass. Shakespeare strained to listen to Dad's muffled voice. ‘This seems like a good spot to pitch a tent. Remote enough for you to feel alone, but close enough to the farm in case you need us. You've got two nights, OK. That's enough for Ben to get his camping badge. And remember, Benjamin is in charge.' Shakespeare could imagine Dad wagging a finger at the eldest child while he raised an eyebrow at Ollie, the youngest and most mischievous. ‘And there's no Lara to look after you. So this is a big test. We'll be staying with Mrs George in the farmhouse. Sophie's got a phone with a full battery and we've checked the signal is OK. So anything you need, or any scrapes, we can be here in ten minutes.'

The freezing cat managed a grin.
No need for that
,
he thought.
This is my first ever mission. 009, Spy Cat. Provided of course that someone lets me out of this icy prison!

‘You've got enough food in the cool box,' reminded Mum's muffled voice.

Might be a couple of sarnies short of a picnic
,
Shakespeare thought to himself.
And I'm getting cramped in here.

‘And you'll be walking to the farmhouse for breakfast so you can use the loo there. In-between times, there are bushes,' said Mum.

‘It's all part of the outdoor experience,' said Ben, presumably looking at Ollie.

Shakespeare grinned as he listened to Ollie. ‘I need a wee now.'

‘Well, you should have thought about that before we left,' grumbled Dad. ‘There's a bush over there.'

A few minutes later Shakespeare heard more car doors opening and closing. Then the engine started and the car drove away. He fidgeted in the increasingly painful confined space. He heard Ben issuing a few orders. While his sister helped organize the tent, Ollie wandered over to the cool box to grab a snack. He clicked the lock and opened the lid
.

 

 

Hi there, Ollie
, thought the crumpled cat, stretching his limbs and blinking in the sunlight
. Ooh, nice warm sun. Have you any idea how cold it's been in here?

‘Hi, moggie,' said Ollie matter-of-factly.
‘Have you come on holiday too?' He reached for a can of pop and Shakespeare jumped out of the box.
And lovely warm grass
, he purred, snaking his way round Ollie's legs in appreciation.

The six-year-old looked at the cat and then at his older brother and sister who were busy grappling with a pop-up tent. ‘Ben,' shouted Ollie. ‘Can you eat cats?'

‘You probably could,' shouted Ben. ‘But you'd need to be pretty desperate.'

‘Crikey, puss,' said Ollie, reaching down and stroking Shakespeare. ‘Mum's packed you in the lunch box. She must be expecting us to get pretty desperate!'

Seven years had seemed like an age but the man was determined to be patient. He checked the luminous dial on his watch. It was only 4 p.m. but the clouds were rolling in and the scene had become a lot darker. He didn't want to give his hiding place away so he pressed a button on his camera to turn the automatic flash off. The man adjusted his position to get a better view, a tattoo peeking out from beneath his shirtsleeve.

Who were these kids? He'd banked on the area being deserted. There was even a stray cat hanging around. One thing was for sure – they were in the way of him getting what he had waited so long for. And he wasn't about to put up with that …