Atticus Claw Lends a Paw (12 page)

16

They began to descend the golden staircase.

The strange thing about it was that although their feet seemed to be taking them down into the earth, their brains told them that they weren’t really going down at all. Instead of getting darker, the further along the staircase they travelled, the
lighter
it became.

Atticus led the way. The light drew him on. That and knowing that he would soon see Mimi. And something else: a feeling he couldn’t name. Mimi called it instinct. So did Mrs Tucker. But this was more than instinct: it was more than just knowing or remembering things. It was as if something or someone had
control
of him. It was the same feeling he’d had at Howard Toffly’s crypt the
first time he went, when he couldn’t move his paws. It was the same force that had driven him back to the crypt in a trance to rescue the ancient book before the magpies got hold of it. It was the same power that had sent him to the top of the cat’s-head rock formation to lift his paw and reveal the path through sand and water.

Even if Mimi and the Professor hadn’t been in danger, even if he’d wanted to stop and go back, he knew couldn’t. The force was overwhelming. It was taking possession of him.

He padded on. The others followed. On either side of them shimmered a soft golden haze. It was like fog, Atticus thought, except it wasn’t cold or damp. Gradually the haze began to clear. He looked down at his paws. They were standing on a huge golden barge in the middle of the flooded valley. The staircase had disappeared.

He glanced behind. There was no sign of the towering columns of water. There was barely a whisper of wind. And around the lake wasn’t desert, but green palm trees as far as he could see. Behind him on the hill, the same cat’s-head rocks stared down at them. Ahead of him,
glowing in the sun, was the golden city of cats.

‘Nebu-Mau!’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘We’ve arrived.’

‘A baaarrrrge!’ Mr Tucker hopped about in glee, making the barge roll from side to side. ‘At laaarrrst!’

‘Stop it, Herman, you’re making us feel sick,’ Mrs Tucker complained.

Mr Tucker broke into a sea shanty. He was thrilled to be back on a boat.

Mrs Tucker glared at him. ‘Very interesting, Herman, I’m sure. Now can we go?’

‘Grab an oaaarrr,’ Mr Tucker commanded. ‘Apart from youze, Atticus. Youze can help me navigate.’

Atticus hopped on to the tiller. The others took the oars.

‘Heave!’ Mr Tucker gave the order.

They heaved.

The barge edged forward.

‘I said “Heave”!’ Mr Tucker shouted.

‘Why don’t
you
heave?’ Mrs Tucker muttered.

‘Because I’s the captain,’ Mr Tucker bellowed. ‘I’s in charge of this vessel. Now HEAVE or I’ll have to make you walk the plank!’

Soon the barge was skimming through the water.

‘I name this baarrrge
The Crafty Camel
,’ Mr Tucker said.

Atticus gazed straight ahead. The breeze tickled his whiskers. The sensation was familiar. He’d been here before.

He remembered the flooded valley and the palm trees and the golden haze on the water. He recalled the barge and the cat’s-head rocks. And more than anything, he remembered Nebu-Mau: the golden city of cats.
His
city.
His
home.
His
people.

Atticus shook his head.
What was he thinking?
This wasn’t his home! Blossom Crescent was. He lived in Littleton-on-Sea, England, not in Nebu-Mau, Western Desert, Egypt. The Cheddars were his people.

He swallowed. It was as if he was getting his
wires crossed between two different lives.

They were approaching the harbour.

‘Drop the oars!’ Mr Tucker steered the barge expertly alongside the wooden dock. He jumped out and tied the barge. The others clambered out. Atticus hopped on to the dock. A second barge was moored a few metres away but there was no sign of anyone on board. He looked along the shoreline. There was no one else around. Nebu-Mau seemed completely deserted.

‘Klob’s got to be here somewhere,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Atticus, where’s the tomb?’

Atticus lifted his head. They followed his gaze.

Before them a wide boulevard led through the city from the harbour. On either side of it were rows of magnificent buildings decorated in hieroglyphs. They were like the ones Atticus had seen in Howard Toffly’s crypt. And everywhere you looked there were statues of the cat pharaoh, painted in brown and black stripes, with four white paws and large green eyes. They were statues of
him
except instead of a red handkerchief he was wearing a blue and green headdress.

‘Atticus!’ Callie whispered.

‘No,’ said Mrs Tucker quickly. ‘It’s not Atticus. It’s Cattypuss the Great.’

‘But …’ Michael started.

‘They’re not the same, Michael.’ Mrs Tucker’s expression was deadly serious. ‘It’s really important you remember that.’

At the end of the boulevard was a pyramid. Even from this distance they could see it was encased in gold.

‘That’s where Klob will be,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘She knows Atticus will come after Mimi. She’ll be holding her prisoner somewhere in the pyramid. You can bet your barnacles. She’ll be lying in wait for us.’

‘So what’s the plan?’ Badawi asked.

‘We’ve going to let her capture us,’ Mrs Tucker said.

‘What?’ Michael shouted.

‘But what about Atticus?’ Callie cried.

‘Biscuit will kill him as soon as he shows them how to get into Cattypuss’s tomb!’ Mrs Cheddar protested.

‘What Klob doesn’t know,’ Mrs Tucker explained patiently, ‘is that Badawi’s here with the warriors. If she thinks she’s captured all of us, she’ll be off her guard. That’s when Badawi and his men strike.’

‘It’s too dangerous,’ Mrs Cheddar said immediately.

Atticus held out his paw. He wanted to let her know that he would do it. He wasn’t afraid of Biscuit. Something told him he could handle him. Or at least that Cattypuss could.

‘Are you sure, Atticus?’ Michael said.

Atticus purred.

Callie hugged him.

‘Now don’t get all sentimental,’ Mrs Tucker said briskly. ‘When I said we’d let Klob capture us, I didn’t say we’d
stay
captured, did I?’

The children smiled.

‘Don’t youze worry.’ Mr Tucker was chewing his pipe thoughtfully. ‘I’ll make sure those villains rue the day they messed with me beard-jumper.’

Badawi nodded. ‘We’ll hide out nearby. We’ll be ready. And if Atticus does open the tomb, we’ll make sure it’s the Egyptian government that gets the treasure for the nation, not Klob and the Tofflys.’

‘And then Dad can arrest them. Can’t you, Dad?’ Callie said.

There was no reply.

‘Dad?’ Michael looked around.

‘Where’s he gone?’ Mrs Cheddar said, puzzled.

‘I’s dunno. He was here a minute ago,’ Mr Tucker said.

‘For halibut’s sake!’ Mrs Tucker exclaimed. ‘I wish he’d stop disappearing like this.’

‘Maybe he went to see if he could find another notebook,’ Callie suggested. ‘He seems really worried about filing his report for the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth.’

‘He’s a stickler for procedure,’ Mrs Cheddar sighed.

‘Well, he’s not going to find a notebook here, is he?’ said Mrs Tucker, exasperated. ‘We’ll have to find him later. Ready, Badawi?’

Badawi nodded. ‘We’ll meet you at the pyramid.’

Inspector Cheddar was disappointed. Sure, Nebu-Mau was filled with priceless treasure and about a billion statues of a cat that looked a lot like Atticus, but it was very low on notebook shops. In fact, as
far as he could tell there was nowhere in this darned place that he could so much as borrow a scrap of paper from. There were no newsagents, no corner shops, no stationers and no book shops. There were no offices or banks or libraries or police stations. Just a lot of empty buildings with funny pictures carved on the walls.

Inspector Cheddar was just wondering how he was going to explain to the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth why he hadn’t kept a log of the investigation when he heard a noise.

Squeak
…
squeak
…
squeak.

He listened hard.

Squeak
…
squeak
…
squeak.

A man in a white djellaba and a turban appeared from around a corner. He was pushing a small cart full of melons. ‘Need help?’ he asked.

Inspector Cheddar nodded. ‘Can you please tell me where I can buy a notebook? It’s very urgent.’

‘Vill papyrus do?’ The man offloaded a few melons. At the bottom of the cart was a box full of papyrus scrolls.

‘I’ll have the lot!’ Inspector Cheddar grabbed the box. ‘You got any biros?’

‘Qvill pens only,’ the man said.

‘I’ll take ten,’ Inspector Cheddar said.

The man counted out ten quill pens and handed them to the Inspector. ‘That vill be vun thousand Egyptian pounds.’

‘What? That’s daylight robbery!’ Inspector Cheddar complained. He got ready to haggle. ‘I’ll give you fifty pence.’

‘Forget it.’

‘Okay, a pound.’

‘Nope.’

Inspector Cheddar emptied his pockets. He only had a bit of change. He hadn’t brought much money with him: there wasn’t much to buy in the desert.

The man was watching him closely. ‘Don’t vaste my time,’ he said nastily. ‘Give me back my papyrus and my qvill pens.’

‘No. You don’t understand. I’m a policeman,’ Inspector Cheddar admitted in desperation. ‘I have to file a report to the Chief Inspector of Bigsworth.’

The papyrus seller looked interested. ‘Really? Vot about?’

Inspector Cheddar looked around to make sure they weren’t being overheard. ‘I’m on the trail of a
vicious criminal. Her name’s Klob. She’s a mistress of disguise. You haven’t seen her, have you?’ he asked hopefully.

The papyrus seller shook his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Vot does she look like?’

Inspector Cheddar pulled a horrible face. ‘She’s an ugly bruiser.’

The papyrus seller frowned. ‘Ugly?’

‘Hideous.’ Inspector Cheddar nodded. ‘She’s got a face like a camel’s bum.’

The papyrus seller went red. ‘How dare you insult a lady like that!’ he shouted.

‘She’s not a lady, she’s a disgusting old hag,’ Inspector Cheddar protested. ‘Trust me. I’d rather kiss a warthog.’

The papyrus seller frothed at the mouth. He reached under his turban. ‘You’ve done it now!’ He produced a fistful of sharp-looking pins.

Inspector Cheddar realised his mistake. ‘Miss Klob!’ he gasped. ‘I didn’t mean it. You’ve got a face to sink a thousand ships.’

‘The saying is
launch
a thousand ships, not
sink
them, you vally. And it’s Ms, not Miss,’ Zenia Klob shouted.

ZIP!

The first hairpin struck Inspector Cheddar in the neck. He folded to the ground.

‘Vun dose of sleeping potion is not enough for you!’ Zenia Klob screeched.

ZIP! ZIP! ZIP! ZIP! ZIP!

The other hairpins struck him in the chest, the leg, the arm, and one in each bum cheek.

Zenia Klob shook her fist at Inspector Cheddar’s sleeping form. ‘Ven you vake up – IF you vake up – you von’t have a clue who you are.’ She gave him a kick with the steel toe of her boot. ‘Biscuit!’

Ginger Biscuit appeared from behind a building.

‘Put him somewhere no one vill find him. A dungeon if possible. Full of spiders.’

‘RRRRRRRR.’ Ginger Biscuit took hold of Inspector Cheddar’s foot with his front paws and dragged him into one of the buildings. After a few minutes he re-emerged covered in cobwebs.

‘Good boy.’ Zenia Klob gave him a beetle to chew. ‘That vos a piece of luck getting Cheddar out of the vay. Now ve can go back to the pyramid and lie in vait for Atticus and the rest of his pals.’

17

Ginger Biscuit slouched back to the pyramid
feeling
murderous. Chewing a beetle didn’t make his temper any better. Despite the lure of treasure, despite the pyramid of gold, despite even the fact that Zenia had promised him he could kill the magpies and roast them for dinner, he HATED the lost city of Nebu-Mau. He DESPISED the golden city of cats. It wasn’t the golden city of
cats
anyway. That was the problem. It was the golden city of CAT. And that cat wasn’t him. It was Cattypuss the Great.

Except that Cattypuss the Great looked like Atticus. Everybody said so: Professor
Verry-Clever, Mimi, the Tofflys, the magpies, even Zenia! Professor Verry-Clever was the worst. He kept getting the names mixed up: Atticus/Cattypuss, Atticus/Cattypuss, Atticus/Cattypuss. In fact Professor Verry-Clever had got himself so mixed up he’d started talking about
Atticus
the Great when they entered the pyramid.

Biscuit couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stomach the idea that Atticus was the descendant of a cat pharaoh. He couldn’t bear having to hang around until Atticus opened Cattypuss’s tomb. It wasn’t fair. Atticus was a coward. He was a police cat, a traitor, a piece of cat scum. The idea that Atticus was superior to him made Ginger Biscuit want to puke.

Ginger Biscuit wasn’t just jealous. He was madly, vilely, bitterly, excruciatingly,
insanely
jealous. HE wanted to be a cat pharaoh. HE wanted to have a tomb full of treasure. HE wanted to have a
boulevard
of statues built in his honour. HE wanted his picture drawn on the wall of every building. He wanted people to bring HIM gifts. He dreamed of Professor Verry-Clever waiting on him with plates piled high with rats. He imagined sitting on a jewel-encrusted throne while the Tofflys plucked
the magpies for him to nibble. He longed for Zenia to shower him with pike heads from her wheelie trolley. But what had he got instead? One measly beetle to crunch and fur full of cobwebs.

He stopped to wee on one of the two gigantic statues of Cattypuss the Great that guarded the pyramid, then slouched up the steps to the entrance behind Zenia into the first gloomy chamber.

‘Go and make sure Atticus’s girlfriend is tied up tight,’ Zenia ordered him. ‘And get those mangy magpies ready. I vant aerial bombardment as soon as Atticus opens the tomb. Lots of bird poo. Nice and smelly. The main target is Agent Velk and that stupid husband of hers. The Tofflys can deal with Mrs Cheesy and her repulsive kids. Go now, Biscuit. I’ll get the Professor.’

Biscuit cast her an angry look.

‘And don’t be so grumpy, my little tomb-trashing tomcat!’ Zenia added. ‘You’ll get vot you vant ven it’s over. I’ll even make you a cat pharaoh disguise if you like, out of the spare jewels.’

‘Mmmyyyaaawww.’ Biscuit didn’t want a cat pharaoh
disguise
. He wanted to BE a cat pharaoh. Just at that moment nothing less would do.

He sloped off into the pyramid. He and Zenia had already cased the joint with the magpies. Professor Verry-Clever had shown them the way to the tomb, lighting torches as they went so that they wouldn’t get lost. The tomb lay at the pyramid’s heart: right under the pointy bit – so that Cattypuss could have a straight path to eternal life, according to the Professor. Well, stuff Cattypuss and his eternal life! It was Biscuit’s turn to have a piece of the action. He eased his way along a labyrinth of passageways following the wall torches until he reached the antechamber to the tomb.

Mimi was tethered by the neck to an iron stake on an altar opposite the door.

‘Comfortable?’ Biscuit snarled.

‘Perfectly, thank you.’ Mimi turned her back on him and folded her front paws.

‘Inspector Cheddar’s not going to help you,’ Biscuit told her. ‘He’s away with the pharaohs. Zenia hairpinned him. Six times. He’ll sleep till Christmas.’

‘Good for her,’ Mimi said coldly.

Biscuit growled. Nothing he did or said seemed to make any impression on her.

‘You can’t escape, you know.’

‘Yes I can,’ Mimi said. ‘Atticus will get me out.’

‘MMMYYYAAAWWW!’

‘And even if he doesn’t, you’re finished.’

‘What do you mean?’ Biscuit spat back.

‘Cattypuss the Great’s not going to be very pleased, is he, when he finds out you’ve killed one of his descendants,’ Mimi said. ‘He’ll curse you, just like he did Howard Toffly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t hunt you down and throttle you. You’ll be dead in your basket before you can say “obelisk”.’

Biscuit’s eyes narrowed.

‘You hadn’t thought of that, had you?’ Mimi sensed she’d scored a victory. ‘I wouldn’t like to be in your paws when the curse of Cattypuss comes knocking.’

‘GGRRRRRRR …’

The argument had woken up the magpies. They’d been having a sleep on a rush mat in the corner.

‘Someone’s in a bad mood!’ sang Thug. He winked at Slasher. ‘How many statues of Cattypuss the Great did you count on your way up the boulevard, Slash?’

‘I got to one thousand, four hundred and
eighty-nine
,’ Slasher said. ‘Then I lost count: there were so many.’

‘We’d better do it again on the way back.’ Thug grinned. ‘Will you help us, Ginger?’

‘Cut it out!’ Ginger Biscuit snapped.

‘There’s three thousand, one hundred and seven drawings of him in the passageway,’ Pig said helpfully.

‘Not to mention the etching on the altar,’ Wally reminded them.

‘And that lovely mural on the wall,’ said Gizzard pointing at a large painting of Cattypuss the Great receiving gifts from minions.

‘Shut up!’ said Ginger Biscuit.

‘It’s amazing how much like Claw Cattypuss looks,’ Slasher remarked.

‘Could be his double!’ Thug agreed. ‘It’s like Claw’s really the cat pharaoh, not Cattypuss.’

There was a flash of ginger.

‘Aaaaahhhhh!’ shrieked Thug. ‘He’s pinned me tail!’

‘Aaaaahhhhh!’ screamed Slasher. ‘He’s got me bad foot!’

Ginger Biscuit dragged them to the altar. He took hold of another iron chain and tethered them both by the beak next to Mimi.

‘Let them go,’ Jimmy screeched.

‘No.’ Biscuit advanced on Pig, Wally and Gizzard. ‘I’ve had it with you lot.’ He pinned them too.

Pig and Gizzard fainted.

Wally pooed himself.

‘Leave my magpies alone!’ Jimmy hopped about in fury.

‘Shan’t.’ Biscuit tethered the other three birds. He didn’t care if Zenia was cross. He didn’t care about anything except shutting the magpies up. And the curse: he cared about that.

‘You can’t do this!’ Jimmy squawked. ‘I forbid it!’

‘Just watch me.’ Ginger Biscuit grabbed Jimmy by the tail and slung him on the altar next to the others.

‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!’

‘Chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka-chaka!

‘You’ve no right to sacrifice us!’ Jimmy shouted, as Biscuit tied him up.

‘Call it my little gift to Cattypuss,’ Ginger Biscuit said. ‘A little
offering
to take his mind off the main event. I’m sure he won’t curse me when he sees what a lovely gift I’ve brought him. He’s a cat, after all. He’s bound to like birds.’ Biscuit grinned at Mimi. ‘Thanks for the tip.’

She backed away from the magpies. ‘You beast,’ she said.

‘Squeamish, are you?’ Ginger Biscuit popped out his claws. POP. POP. POP. POP. ‘Wait till you see what I do to your boyfriend.’

The magpies squawked feebly.

Mimi looked away.

Just then the door to the antechamber was thrown open. Zenia burst in with Professor Verry-Clever and the Tofflys. Professor Verry-Clever had his hands tied behind his back. Zenia gave him a shove. He fell over and crawled into a corner.

‘They’re coming!’ she shrieked. ‘Atticus, Velk and the others. Positions, everyone!’

The villains dashed back into the labyrinth of passages to hide.

Ginger ran after them. ‘I’ll be back,’ he hissed.

His time was coming.
Gingerpuss the Horrible.
He could almost hear the crowd roaring his name.