The Case of the Missing Cats (11 page)

And then a bell rang.

‘Ratingdon Ratstein the third,' he swore.

He knew what the bell meant.

Company.

The bell rang again and the lids of the four large wooden crates slowly rose. It was like something out of a tacky vampire movie Dirk had once sat up watching. But these weren't plywood coffins containing bit actors wearing too much make-up. From the claws that were pushing open the crates he knew that these were dragons. And they were real. Very real.

He dived over a crate, somersaulted mid-air, spread his wings and flew up into the shadows. He grabbed on to a rafter and blended with the wall, as the four large crates burst open, the lids clattering to the floor. Out crawled four dragons: the Mountain and the Sea
Dragon, and the two yellow-backed Scavengers. Dirk held his breath. The dragons prowled towards the centre of the warehouse.

The larger of the two Scavengers raised his head and said in barking, clicking Dragonspeak, ‘Brothers Kinghorn, Dragons true, In the name of Vainclaw, I greet you.'

The red Mountain Dragon and the grey Sea Dragon bowed and said together, ‘Dragons be free, Vainclaw we obey, save no mercy, for those who stand in our way.'

The smaller Scavenger said nothing.

‘Speak the words, Mali?' said the larger of the two in English.

‘Speak the words, Mali,' mimicked the smaller.

‘Say it,' demanded the other, squaring up to fight.

‘Leave it out, bro. I ain't saying that twaddle. Who talks like that, anyway, eh? It's bad enough having to hide in these poxy boxes all day, as it is,' he said petulantly.

‘Look, if you don't want to be a Kinghorn, ar' kid, then you can just run back to Mummy and . . .'

‘Leave Ma out of this, Leon,' snarled the dragon.

‘You know you were adopted, don't you, eh, Mali?' goaded the larger.

‘I was not.'

‘Mum told me she found you under a blueberry bush while she was out picking berries.'

‘She did not.'

‘Blueberry boy!'

‘Shut up.'

The two yellow-backed dragons were standing nose to nose, smoke billowing from their nostrils, cicling angrily.

The Sea Dragon edged himself between them and pushed them away from each other.

‘Can you two cut it out?' he said. ‘This mission's bad enough as it is without you two fighting like cats and . . . ah ah . . . ' He tipped his head back and then a giant sneeze roared from his mouth. ‘Choo!' he screamed, sending a line of fire across the room, catching the Mountain Dragon's rear.

The Mountain Dragon yelped. ‘Leave it out, Flotsam,' he said.

‘Sorry, Jegsy,' said the Sea Dragon. ‘It's these flipping cat hairs. They get everywhere. I picked up a white Persian this morning and it's really making me . . . ah . . . ah . . . ahh . . . CHOO!'

Another line of fire darted out. This time the Mountain Dragon jumped out of the way.
Unfortunately he wasn't looking where he was going and landed on the nose of the Scavenger called Mali.

‘Ow, watch it!' said the Scavenger.

‘Stop messing around, you idiots,' said his brother, Leon. ‘We've got work to do.'

‘And who appointed you leader, anyway?' demanded Mali.

‘Vainclaw did when he personally asked me to make sure the mission went ahead without any hiccups,' replied Leon, the larger of the Scavengers. ‘Or sneezes,' he added, looking witheringly at Flotsam, the Sea Dragon.

‘I think I should be in charge,' replied Mali, ‘or Jegsy. He's Vainclaw's nephew.'

‘No, I'm not bothered, like,' said Jegsy.

‘Look, it's not important,' said Flotsam. ‘I'll just be glad when I don't have to touch another flipping cah . . . ah . . . ah . . . CHOOOO.'

This time the two yellows dived out of the way of the fire, but collided with each other.
That's got to hurt
, thought Dirk, up in the rafters, as the two dragons' heads smacked together.

‘You clumsy fool,' said Leon, rubbing his head.

‘You ran into me,' growled Mali.

‘Here, I've got just the thing for headaches, like,'
said the Mountain Dragon, Jegsy, and he dived into his crate. After a moment's rummaging he emerged holding what looked to Dirk like a child's yo-yo.

‘What's that?' asked Flotsam.

‘Well, I'm not sure, but I think it works like this,' replied Jegsy, threading the string through a claw. ‘Stand still,' he said to Leon and, taking aim very carefully, he threw the yo-yo at Leon's head.

‘Ouch,' snarled Leon angrily. ‘What d'you think you're doing?'

‘Oh, maybe that's not the right thing. Hold on.' He jumped back into the crate.

‘Eh, you been on the rob again, Jegsy?' said Flotsam.

‘It ain't robbing, like. I'm collecting,' said the Mountain Dragon, emerging from the crate holding a tennis racket, a plant pot and a large pair of rather grey-looking underpants.

‘Vainclaw said we shouldn't take anything except for cats,' said Leon.

‘Yeah, but he wouldn't mind the odd thing, like. It's so interesting, all this stuff. And I'm making real progress at understanding how it all works, ain't I? Right, try this.' He placed the plant pot on Leon's head, draped the pants over his nose and then began
repeatedly hitting the plant pot with the tennis racket. ‘How's that?' he asked.

‘GET OFF ME,YOU IDIOT!' yelled Leon, shaking his head so that the plant pot smashed against a wall and sending the Y-fronts flying up in the air. The large yellow dragon threw his head back and roared. An enormous flame shot out of his mouth, burning the Y-fronts to a crisp and slightly singeing Dirk's behind. He swallowed the pain, knowing that the slightest movement would cause his skin to resume its natural colour, revealing him to the other dragons. Below, the charred remains of the pants rained down on the four dragons.

‘Listen to me, you lot,' said Leon. ‘Vainclaw doesn't want any unnecessary risks taken. This is too important.'

‘Sorry, Leon.' Jegsy carefully dropped the tennis racket back into his crate.

‘There you go again, bro,' said Mali. ‘Acting like the big old dragon. What makes you so important, eh?'

‘I'll tell you exactly what, ar' kid,' he snarled. ‘Because I've just received word from Vainclaw. We have a new assignment.'

Flotsam's ears pricked up. ‘No more cats?' he asked hopefully.

‘Yeah, spill the beans, like. What's the job?' asked Jegsy.

‘Stage two,' said Leon.

‘Oh yeah,' said his brother. ‘Then why didn't he tell the rest of us?'

‘Because Vainclaw trusts me,' Leon said pointedly.

‘Bully for you,' Mali sulked.

‘Forget your usual routes. Today, you're all to follow me.'

‘Where are we going?' asked Flotsam.

‘I told you. It's time for stage two,' replied Leon.

‘I don't believe you,' said Mali. ‘The big V man ain't told you nothing.'

‘Yes, he has,' said Leon impatiently.

‘Has not.'

‘Has so.'

‘Cut it out,' said Flotsam. ‘I think we should just ... ah ... ah ... ah ...'

The other three dragons cowered in anticipation.

‘Ah . . . ah . . .'

After a moment's pause, Flotsam sniffed and said, ‘Actually, I think I'm all right.'

He wiped his nose, and the other dragons raised their heads, looking relieved.

‘CHOOOOO!' he screamed, fire bursting from his
mouth.

‘I could give you something for that,' said Jegsy, diving once again into the crate. ‘Take one of these every hour until the sneezing stops,' he said, passing Flotsam a selection of tennis balls.

‘Thanks,' said the Sea Dragon, putting one into his mouth and biting down. ‘It's a bit chewy,' he said.

‘Maybe it should be dissolved in water first,' said the other.

‘Can you stop messing around?' barked Leon. ‘Come on, everyone follow me.'

Dirk kept very still.

The large, yellow-backed Scavenger flew up to the skylight.

Dirk held his breath.

The dragon slid the skylight open, slipped through the hole and disappeared on to the roof. The other three dragons followed. As the last one slid the skylight shut, Dirk heard the one called Leon say, ‘Remember, no robbing, no arguing and no sneezing.'

Once he was sure that they had gone Dick flew to the skylight, his skin returning to its true colour. He slid it open and slipped out on to the roof. He could see the four dragons leaping from roof to roof, the
large, yellow one leading the way. He was about to take chase when he noticed out of the corner of his eye a light-blue, round-topped car, parked by the side of the warehouse. Inside the car Dirk could see Mrs Klingerflim sitting, smiling vaguely and tapping her hands on the steering wheel.
Holly
, he thought.
Why isn't Holly with her?

Checking no one was around, he jumped down to the street below and approached the car window, where Mrs Klingerflim was listening to some old crackly music on the radio. It sounded like an awful noise to Dirk, but she seemed to be enjoying it.

‘Mrs Klingerflim,' he said.

‘Is that you, Mr Dilly?' she said, turning to look at him. ‘You made me jump. What are you doing here?'

‘Where's Holly?'

‘I don't know, dear,' replied the old lady. ‘She said she would only be a minute.'

‘Rats,' said Dirk. He looked around. The once-white van was gone. He flew back to the roof, but still couldn't see any sign of it. He needed height and he needed it now. Three roofs away was a large industrial chimney. He ran across the roof, dived to the next, landing into a forward roll, and then he was springing up, spreading his wings and flying to the
top of the chimney. Carefully balancing on the rim he looked down at the surrounding streets. There was still no sign of the van. And then he saw another car he recognised. It was the grey Mercedes with the white stripe that had been parked outside his flat, the one driven by the man in the wide-brimmed hat. It was driving full pelt away, jumping every red light it went through, heading eastward.

Dirk spread his wings, and leapt from the chimney, taking chase as the sun set behind him.

The car took the same route out of the city that the two crooks had taken in the van. It parked in front of the church, across the road from the shady path that led to the riverside. Dirk landed on the church roof. The man in the wide-brimmed hat got out and hurried across the road. He walked briskly down the path, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his head bowed down. He was alone.

Cursing himself for not having his disguise with him, Dirk swooped down to the car. There was no sign of Holly in the front seat. No sign in the back. Ears pricked up, listening for anyone approaching, Dirk slipped round the back of the car. He lowered
his head to the boot and said, ‘Holly, are you in there?'

Nothing.

He opened his mouth and clamped his teeth down on the boot, being careful not to bite straight through the metal. The last thing he wanted was to skewer the girl on one of his teeth. Satisfied with his grip he raised his head slowly. It made an awful sound, of teeth against steel.
There goes my enamel
, thought Dirk. He pushed the door wide open, braced himself and looked down. She wasn't there.

‘Rancid rats called Rodney,' Dirk swore, jumping back to the safety of the church roof just as a solitary furniture removal van rumbled past. It was late and with only a few yellow street lamps to combat the darkness, Dirk could barely make out the man in the wide-brimmed hat. In a matter of seconds he would disappear from sight altogether, into the shadows.

The road was clear. Dirk spread his wings, stood on tiptoes on the edge of the church, his forepaws stretched out like an Olympic diver, made a tiny jump and glided across the road, down the path, gathering speed as he flew.