Atticus Claw Breaks the Law (11 page)

For the first time in his life, Atticus Grammaticus Cattypuss Claw, the world’s greatest cat burglar, was stumped.

19

Michael had always wanted a ride on a motorbike. Up until this morning he’d never been allowed. But his parents were at Toffly Hall checking everything was ready for the fair. Mrs Tucker was firm. They were going to rescue Atticus.

‘Michael – you’re behind me on the seat. Callie – you’re in the sidecar.’

Michael pulled his helmet down tight over his ears like he did when he went go-karting and climbed on behind Mrs Tucker. Callie did the same and jumped into the sidecar.

‘Hang on!’ Mrs Tucker pressed the throttle. VRROOOMM! The motorbike sped down Blossom Crescent and into Townley Road. It wouldn’t take them long to get to the police station.

Suddenly Mrs Tucker pulled on the brakes. The
tyres squealed as the motorbike skidded to a halt.

‘What’s wrong?’ Michael demanded. ‘Why have we stopped?’

‘Look at that!’ Mrs Tucker pointed to a big poster beside the railway bridge.

‘And now look up there.’ Mrs Tucker pointed to the top of the railway bridge. Crowds of magpies jostled for space above the giant poster. Dozens more circled above.

‘CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA-CHAKA!’

‘What are they doing?’ Callie asked.

‘I don’t know, but I’ve got a bad feeling.’ Mrs
Tucker whipped out a pair of binoculars from her basket and gazed into the sky. A dark grey cloud loomed on the horizon. She pointed to it. ‘It looks like they’re moving in the direction of Toffly Hall.’

‘You mean that’s a cloud of
birds
?’ Michael gasped in horror. He grabbed the binoculars. The cloud was moving at speed across the sky, twisting and turning like a tornado. He could just about make out that it was made up of hundreds and hundreds of magpies.

‘The antiques fair!’ Callie gasped.

Mrs Tucker nodded grimly. ‘They’ll be after the jewellery. I suspected as much. We’d better get Atticus quickly. The sight of him will make their wings wiggle!’

‘Wait!’ Michael swung the binoculars to the top of the railway bridge. Two magpies stood at the head of the crowd. One of them was thin with a hooked foot. The other was fat with a raggedy tail.

‘It’s them!’ he cried, pointing. ‘The magpies who tried to steal Dad’s badge last week.’

Mrs Tucker narrowed her eyes. ‘What about that one?’ She jabbed a finger towards a huge magpie with glossy blue and green feathers that swooped and dived in front of the others, chattering wildly at the top of its voice.

Michael gazed at the bird through the binoculars. Its eyes glittered.

‘That’s the one who was fighting with Atticus at the pier!’ he gasped.

‘He’s the ringleader,’ Mrs Tucker yelled. ‘He’s the one we’ve got to watch! I think he’s stirring them up to something big. We’d better get Atticus,’ she said again. ‘That bird looks tricky. Atticus is the only one who’ll be able to catch him. Quick!’ She snapped her visor shut. They zoomed off again on the motorbike.

At the police station, the duty sergeant was glued to the TV. He was feeling left out. All his police friends were up at Toffly Hall for the filming of
Get Rich Quick!
while he was stuck here guarding the cat burglar. And from the looks of it, they were having a whale of a time stuffing themselves with sausage rolls and nosying about in front of the TV cameras to see if anyone would hit the jackpot. It wasn’t fair. The duty sergeant really wanted to go. He’d found an old metal teaspoon under the compost heap last weekend and he was sure it was worth a fortune. He sighed. He’d never be rich at this rate.

BASH! BANG! THUMP! The duty sergeant looked up in surprise. A big lady in biking leathers and two children had burst through the door of the police station. They were all wearing crash helmets.

‘We’re here for the cat.’ Mrs Tucker flicked up her visor and thumped her basket down on the counter. ‘He’s wanted in connection with er …’

‘Sardine smuggling,’ Michael said quickly. ‘We’re from the SAS.’

‘The SAS?’ The duty sergeant gulped. He’d heard of them. They were a type of special soldier who could skin rabbits with their toenails. He scratched his head and peered at the children. Either he was getting old or they were recruiting them young these days.

‘The Sardine Army Squadron,’ Mrs Tucker snapped. ‘We’ve come to interrogate Claw.’

The duty sergeant frowned. ‘Inspector Cheddar didn’t say anything about that,’ he muttered,
checking
his logbook.

‘Inspector Cheddar doesn’t know.’ Mrs Tucker leaned over the counter. ‘This came right from the top,’ she hissed. ‘Our instructions come from er …’

‘The Prime Minister!’ said Callie in a muffled voice. Her helmet was stuck.

‘Yeah, him,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘He’s very concerned about sardines, in case you didn’t know. They could be in danger, thanks to Atticus Claw and his friends.’

‘It’s vital that we see the prisoner,’ Michael said. ‘Or they might become extinct.’

‘And then you’d be held responsible,’ Mrs Tucker added. She shook her head. ‘Fish
murderer
is not a name I’d want.’

‘Well, in that case.’ The duty sergeant wavered. He felt about in his pocket for the teaspoon. He’d brought it along anyway, just in case. ‘Would you mind if I popped out for a minute and left you to it?’

‘Good idea.’ Mrs Tucker held the door open for him. ‘And don’t tell a dover sole! It’s HUSH HUSH.’

The duty sergeant jumped in a squad car and
disappeared
.

‘Michael, get the keys,’ Mrs Tucker ordered.

Michael grabbed the bunch of keys from a hook on the wall.

They raced to the cells.

A pitiful meowing could be heard coming from one of them.

‘That’s him!’ Callie yelled. ‘Hang on, Atticus, we’re coming!’

Michael tried several keys. Finally he found one that fitted. He turned the big iron key in the lock. The cell door swung open with a creak.

‘Oh, Atticus,’ the children cried, tumbling inside. ‘We’re so glad to see you!’

Atticus looked up in amazement. He’d hardly dared hope this would happen. Yet here they were! And Mrs Tucker too – with a basket of sardines if he wasn’t very much mistaken! Atticus could have cried for joy, except cats don’t cry, so instead he leapt into Michael’s arms and lay on his back with his paws dangling in the air so that Callie could give him a tickle. He purred throatily.

The children laughed. Even Mrs Tucker seemed pleased to see him. ‘You’ve lost a bit of weight,’ she said, fishing in her basket and producing a sardine. ‘They haven’t been feeding you properly. Here!’

Atticus gulped down the sardine in one. He didn’t think he could ever be this happy again.

For a moment everyone forgot about the magpies.

Then the sky went dark.

‘It’s the cloud of birds!’ Michael cried. ‘It’s even bigger than before!’

Atticus growled. He could see the magpies
swirling
about beyond the bars of the window. The sound of chattering filled the air. They were getting ready to swoop.

Mrs Tucker glanced at her watch. It was
twelve-thirty
. ‘We haven’t a moment to lose!’ she cried. ‘The Tofflys’ tiara is being unveiled at two. She closed her basket with a snap. ‘Come on, Atticus, we’ve got some magpies to catch.’ Suddenly her eyes twinkled. ‘And I know just the man to help us.’

20

Mr and Mrs Tucker lived in a row of brightly painted cottages on the seafront about half a mile from the pier. It was easy enough to guess which one was the Tuckers’ because there was a rowing boat in the garden.

Mr Tucker answered the door. He was a small man with a long beard and a smelly jumper. Either that or he was a small man with a long jumper and a smelly beard. The two had somehow got mixed
together
as though someone had used his beard to knit his jumper. Or vice versa.

‘Aha, me hearties,’ he bellowed. ‘I’ve been
expecting
yooze. I knew yooze was coming. I could feel it in me wooden leg!’

‘Don’t be silly, Herman,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘I told you we’d be here before lunch. It’s nothing to
do with your wooden leg.’ She pushed past him into the house. Atticus squeezed after her. Callie and Michael hovered on the doorstep.

‘No need to be shy!’ Mr Tucker bellowed. ‘Come on inside.’

They followed Mr Tucker as he clunked into the house.

Mrs Tucker shooed them into the sitting room. To the children’s astonishment the walls were covered with pictures of Mr Tucker wrestling with fierce-looking sea monsters. There was even one of him fighting off a giant lobster with his wooden leg.

‘I keeps a camera on board me boat,’ Mr Tucker explained modestly, ‘to get a few snaps for me album.’

‘We should show these to Dad!’ Callie whispered.

‘Did I ever tell you the story about how I lost me leg?’ Mr Tucker unscrewed it and fell backwards into an armchair.

‘No!’ said Michael. ‘We’ve never met you before.’

‘Aarrhhhh, that’ll be why.’ Mr Tucker took his teeth out and sucked his gums. ‘Let me see now. It was a dark and stormy night …’

‘Not now, Herman,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘We haven’t got much time. We need to go over the plan.’

The children sat forward on the sofa.

Mr Tucker put his teeth back in.

Atticus hopped up on to Mr Tucker’s lap. He wasn’t put off by the smell coming from Mr Tucker’s beard-jumper. Quite the opposite, in fact. He thought there might be a few tasty morsels lurking around in there somewhere. He started picking at it with his claws.

‘Pay attention, Atticus!’ Mrs Tucker snapped.

Atticus’s good ear drooped. He turned round.

‘The first thing we need to do is to make Atticus a disguise,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Toffly Hall will be
crawling
with cops.’

‘Like crabs in a bucket,’ Mr Tucker agreed.

‘… If anyone sees him he’ll be arrested again. Atticus, your job will be to go after the ringleader and his two sidekicks. They’re our main target. Is that okay?’

‘Grrrrr,’ Atticus growled. It would be his
pleasure
.

‘Good.’ Mrs Tucker pursed her lips. ‘Once we’ve caught them, with any luck the rest of those
bothersome
birds will take off. If they don’t, that’s where Michael and Callie come in. And you, Herman. Did you get everything ready like I told you?’

‘I’s got me nets …’ Mr Tucker lit a pipe. The room filled with blue smoke.

Michael and Callie started coughing.

‘… And me lobster pots. And me lines. And me hooks. And me bucket. And me rope. They’re all strapped on to me trailer.’

Mrs Tucker nodded approvingly. ‘What about the worms?’

Mr Tucker patted his pockets. ‘In me trousers,’ he confirmed. ‘Hundreds of them, all wriggling around like eels.’ He took a quick puff on his pipe.

‘I’m guessing the boss magpie and his mates will go for the Tofflys’ tiara and the rest of them will grab what they can,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Atticus, you and I will take out the BIG THREE and get them into pots. Michael and Callie, you wait with Mr Tucker until we give the signal. If the rest don’t fly away, the plan is to capture the birds when they swoop on the other antiques. Mr Tucker will throw down some worms for good measure and – BHAM! – you move in with the nets. Got it?’

The children nodded.

‘Will Mum be in danger?’ Michael asked in a
worried
voice. ‘She’s in charge of the tiara.’

‘No, I don’t think the magpies will hurt anyone,’
Mrs Tucker reassured him. ‘They just want the loot.’

Atticus hoped she was right. Jimmy Magpie had promised no one would get hurt but would he stick to his word? If things got nasty, there was no telling what the horrible bird might do. Atticus was glad he was going to be there – no bird-brained magpie would hurt Mrs Cheddar or the kids with him there to protect them.

Atticus purred reassuringly to let Michael and Callie know he had it covered.

‘How are you going to get close enough to the tiara?’ Callie asked. ‘Loads of people will be there. Mum said they were expecting huge crowds, especially when Rupert Rich tells the
Get Rich Quick!
viewers how much he thinks the tiara’s worth.’

‘I’ve thought of that,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘I’m going to pretend I’ve got something even more valuable than the Tofflys’ tiara to show Rupert Rich. When he starts doing his “Attack the attic, make a packet!” routine, that’s when I’ll show up with
my
ruby
necklace
.’

‘You’ve got a ruby necklace?’ Mr Tucker bellowed. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’

‘It’s not real, you silly old fishfinger!’ Mrs Tucker said, exasperated. ‘Otherwise I’d be living at Toffly Hall myself! I’ve got a fake one that belonged to my grandmother. It’s made of glass but it’ll fool
everyone
long enough for us to snatch the magpies.’

‘But what if Dad sees you?’ Michael said. ‘He might not let you near Rupert Rich. He’ll guess it’s not real.’

‘That’s the best part!’ Mrs Tucker chortled. ‘I’m not going as Mrs Edna Tucker – feisty fishwife from Littleton-on-Sea; I’m going as Countess Salmonella Von Troutperch – loaded lady with lots of lolly from Los Angeles. I’ll pretend I’ve come over specially for the show with my perfect Persian cat.’ She shot a look at Atticus.

Persian cat?!
Atticus thought.
Where was she going to get one of those at such short notice?

‘Brilliant!’ bellowed Mr Tucker, banging his leg on the table. ‘You’ll look smashing in rubies.’

‘Oh,
I’m
not wearing them,’ Mrs Tucker said.

Mr Tucker, Callie and Michael stared at her,
puzzled
.

‘Who is, then?’

Mrs Tucker grinned. ‘Atticus.’ She folded her arms. ‘We’re going to dye him white.’