Inspector Rumblepants and the Case of the Golden Haggis (8 page)

Chapter 8

The Ambush

T
he next morning, Sergeant Widebottom met Inspector Rumblepants and Agent Amber for a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, fried tomatoes, mushrooms, toast, and crumpets, all washed down with steaming tea. Sergeant Widebottom told them both about his strange meeting the night before with the secret agent from the Scottish Secret Service. While Widebottom was digging into his third helping of toasted crumpets, Agent Amber asked him what the man looked like. There were only three men in the Scottish Secret Service, and she knew two of them. She explained that only one of the agents was a full-time spy, and that the other two did spying as a part-time hobby. Of the part-time agents, one was a butcher and the other sold secondhand ponies.

They all agreed that someone should speak to Professor Aberdeen to see whether he could offer them any clues as to who might have stolen the Golden Haggis. However, Agent Amber told the policemen that she had a top-secret meeting to attend, so she could not join them until the following day. Her meeting, she hoped, might reveal who had stolen the Golden Haggis.

They agreed that Rumblepants and Widebottom would meet with Aberdeen and that they would all get together later at the University of Loch Ness. After breakfast, they packed their bags, and Rumblepants and Widebottom helped Agent Amber carry her bulging cases and bags to her carriage. They said goodbye to Colonel Smithering Blyyd. Just as they were about to head off in their own one-horse carriage, Inspector Thistle McDonald strode into the courtyard.

“Good morning!” Inspector Rumblepants greeted McDonald. “We were looking for you and hoping to have a chat over breakfast.”

McDonald did not say hello. He got straight to business, saying, “I understand that you are going to speak to Professor Aberdeen.”

“Yes, indeed. Want to come along, dear chap?” asked Inspector Rumblepants cheerfully. “There's plenty of room for you in the carriage.”

Inspector Thistle McDonald smiled weakly. “That is very kind,” he said. “However, I have some clues of my own to follow. I will see you tomorrow at the University of Loch Ness, once you get to the lake,” he finished, angrily climbing in his coach.

The next day, the carriage of Inspector Rumblepants and Sergeant Widebottom finally jolted down the rocky road that led to the edge of the quiet waters of Loch Ness Lake. The lake had a thin layer of mist shrouding its banks. Their carriage had been pulled by a small Scottish pony, whose breath now plumed in the chilly air. The pony pulled the carriage to a stop next to the wooden dock.

Little did they know that they had been expected by an evil assassin, who had been carefully watching them arrive from under his cloak's hood. The Assassin, disguised as a ferryman, waved his hand in greeting as the two policemen climbed down from their carriage, pulling their bags from its roof. Inspector Thistle McDonald climbed out after them from his own coach and walked down to the edge of the lake.

“Good morning, dear fellow,” panted Inspector Rumblepants to the ferryman as he dropped his heavy case on the dock. He grinned happily at the ferryman, not realizing that he was really smiling at an assassin. Rumblepants said, “I understand that your ferry takes passengers to the University of Loch Ness.”

The Assassin nodded, puffing smoke rings from the pipe that he had stolen from the real ferryman. The real one was tied up in the crumbling stone cottage that stood next to the dock, mumbling behind an old smelly sock that had been pushed in his mouth to keep him quiet. Meanwhile, the Assassin pointed with one hand to a small wooden boat that was hitched to a rotting post. His other hand remained hidden within his cloak, gripping a long, sharp dagger. Sergeant Widebottom finally staggered onto the dock, bent double under a wooden packing chest.

“Are you sure we need all of this investigation equipment, Sir?” he grunted to Inspector Rumblepants, as he dropped the chest on the dock. The dock shuddered and creaked under the weight of the boxes. As the dock shook, waves rippled from the posts, disappearing into the gloomy morning mist.

“Yes, Sergeant,” Rumblepants replied. “I've seen the great Inspector Sherlock Holmes carry four times this much. You can never have enough fingerprint dust, magnifying glasses, and notebooks,” he stated firmly, dropping his much smaller case into the tiny boat. He nodded to the boat. “Before we get in,” he told Widebottom, “put the chest in to see whether the boat stays afloat. Try not to drop anything in the lake, though,” he added quickly as Sergeant Widebottom staggered dangerously close to the edge of the pier.

With their cases and investigations chest loaded, the boat was much lower in the lake, water almost reaching the tops of the sides. Inspector Rumblepants and Sergeant Widebottom gingerly climbed in. Inspector McDonald wandered up to the pier to watch the Englishmen climb into the small boat, hoping they would fall in the lake.

Inspector Rumblepants smiled at McDonald. “So you are getting the boat tomorrow and will see us at the local village inn?” he asked to confirm.

Inspector McDonald nodded. “I have some other inquiries that I need to make first,” he grinned unpleasantly. “Have a safe trip and watch out for Nessie.” McDonald then drove his carriage away, back up the hill.

“Nessie?” asked Sergeant Widebottom, turning to look inquiringly at Inspector Rumblepants.

“Nessie is the Loch Ness Monster,” said Inspector Rumblepants. “She's a mythical lake creature that is said to haunt these waters,” he added, peering into the mist to see if he could catch a glimpse of her. He smiled at the Sergeant. “But she's nothing to worry about. Only a legend,” he stated authoritatively.

Sergeant Widebottom clutched the sides of the boat tightly and peered worriedly into the mist. “I don't like monsters,” he muttered. “Nasty things. She probably likes to eat Englishmen for breakfast.” Sergeant Widebottom nervously moved as far away from the edge of the boat as possible.

The Assassin gingerly climbed onboard. He moved slowly, being careful not to capsize the boat, which now had water almost lapping over the sides. He began to row the boat away from the dock and into the mist that blanketed the lake. As the lake's edge disappeared from view, the Assassin grinned widely, anticipating his success. The Englishmen were looking out into the mist, their backs to him.

As the boat reached the middle of the lake, Sergeant Widebottom was saying, “It is a pity that Agent Amber needed to head off for a secret meeting rather than travel with us. I rather like her.”

Inspector Rumblepants nodded in agreement. “She's a clever girl,” he added.

As the men talked, the Assassin silently drew his dagger, edging slowly toward Sergeant Widebottom. He planned to dispose of the largest man first, before turning his evil attention to the Inspector. He rose up behind the two men, about to strike like a coiled snake, when Sergeant Widebottom turned around suddenly with a sandwich in his hand.

“Would you care for a sandwich?” he said politely to the Assassin. This motion accidentally knocked the Assassin into the freezing cold lake with a large splash.

Much splashing and struggling ensued in the rescue. Sergeant Widebottom accidentally hit the Assassin on the head several times with an oar in an effort to help him out of the water. Eventually the half-frozen and semi-conscious man was pulled back into the small boat. He lay on the bottom of the boat, shivering and slightly blue, a large bump rising on his head.

“You are good,” the Assassin muttered, in awe of Sergeant Widebottom, before he passed out.

“You are a bit clumsy, that's what you are,” exclaimed Inspector Rumblepants to Sergeant Widebottom. “The poor man could become ill with you knocking him into the lake like that! Who is going to get us back over the lake tomorrow? Because this unlucky fellow will likely be in bed with a cold,” he said angrily.

“Sorry, Sir,” nodded the Sergeant. “I will try to be more careful next time.” He kindly wrapped a blanket around the shivering man. “Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt,” he said.

From the other side of the lake, a gypsy band had watched the whole scene, hidden in the forest. These were a group hired by the Thief, Count Tomat Le Ketchoop. They observed Sergeant Widebottom row the boat to the pier. The largest of gypsies, who was the leader, was shaking his head in amazement. He turned to them. “That assassin was the best in Europe!” the gypsy leader exclaimed. “He has never failed before. I cannot believe that the Englishmen have so easy overcome him,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice.

Astonished, their leader paced back and forth. Then he said to them, “The Count said that we must capture the policemen if the plan went wrong.” He pulled out a long, evil knife from beneath his jacket. “The Count also said that the Inspector and his Sergeant have an uncanny knack for getting out of trouble.” He sniggered nastily. “But these two men can't beat twelve of the toughest gypsies in Scotland,” he said.

The gypsies pulled out thick cudgels of wood and advanced menacingly along the shoreline to the pier and the approaching boat. Inspector Rumblepants looked up at the dozen tough gypsy men who waited on the pier. The small boat pulled up.

“I don't like the look of this,” Rumblepants said as he and Sergeant Widebottom stepped on the rickety wooden planks. Widebottom was carrying the sleeping Assassin over his broad shoulders. The gypsies approached the Englishmen. The gypsies brandished their daggers and cudgels.

“Now look here,” said Inspector Rumblepants with authority, “We are officers of Her Majesty's police force!” The gypsies were happy to have that fact confirmed and advanced toward them with bad intent.

“Oh my gosh,” exclaimed Sergeant Widebottom. “I left me special truncheon in the boat!” Widebottom put the sleeping Assassin gently down upon the pier. The Assassin opened one eye and groggily reached into his cloak for a hidden dagger. At that moment, Sergeant Widebottom slipped on some soggy seaweed, causing the Assassin's head to bounce painfully against a wooden post. The Assassin grunted in pain and passed out again.

The policemen looked nervously at the approaching gypsies. Suddenly, from behind the gypsies, a dark, ghostly form materialized from the mist. The Newcomer was dressed all in black, with a hood concealing the face. The Newcomer glided as gracefully as a cloud, dancing silently down the pier behind the gypsies. The largest of the gypsies was only a few feet away from assaulting Inspector Rumblepants when the mysterious figure leapt up into the air and, in a blur, delivered a karate chop to the last gypsy, who slipped unconscious to the wooden planks without a sound. With lightning speed, the Newcomer spun around and planted a small foot on the back of another gypsy, who then flew into the air and landed with a loud splash some distance away in the cold lake.

Spinning, whirling, and flipping, the dark form moved like a striking snake through the gypsies. The Newcomer ducked under their swinging wooden bats and poked by hand into their soft spots (such as their eyes, noses, ears, and throats). The surprised gypsies gasped in pain as they fell into the lake (or were thrown in). They remained in the murky lake water. The Newcomer stood in front of the largest of the gypsies, who was now trembling in utter, frozen fear.