Mummy Madness (6 page)

The children were irritated that they
weren't going to be part of the mission, but it was just too dangerous with Mr
Big on the rampage. They spent the day with their parents, cooped up in a London
hotel, while Professor Cortex and the puppies did some surveillance. ‘Dogs
aren't allowed in the museum,' he told Lara. ‘But these little
guys can sneak into my backpack and I'll go in as a tourist. We'll
investigate the Egyptian Room and check out the security situation.'

Professor Cortex was the world's
best scientist, but his skills didn't stretch to spying. He was sweating as he
walked up the steps to the British Museum, partly because it was a hot day, partly
because his backpack was heavy, but mostly because he was a rubbish liar. He knew
if anyone asked him what was in his
backpack he'd panic and admit to two stowaway puppies. The surveillance
mission would have to be abandoned if that happened, and they needed to know the
layout of the museum to have the best chance of taking Big on. ‘Quit
fidgeting, you two,' he said out of the corner of his mouth.
‘We're entering the museum.'

Spud and Star lay still. Each had
eyeholes cut into the backpack so they could see out, but nobody could see in.
Perfect for spying.

Lara was on the roof opposite, her
binoculars trained on the museum. ‘All clear,' she woofed into the
headset. The professor heard Star give two muffled yaps from the backpack and knew
the coast was clear. He breezed through reception a little too confidently, walking
fast and whistling. He nodded nervously at the security guard, who nodded back.
Don't look guilty. Don't look guilty.
The professor and his
puppy spies climbed the marble staircase and entered the inner sanctum of the
Egyptian Room. He held his camera to his face and clicked. ‘We're
in,' he whispered into the hidden microphone. The pups peered out of the
backpack, looking for clues. Star was scanning the visitors, looking
for Mr Big. Spud was looking for discarded
sandwiches.

Lara watched them through her powerful
binoculars.
The professor's sweat is visible from a hundred metres!
‘Security,' she woofed. ‘Coming down the stairs towards
you.' One muffled puppy whine signalled trouble and the professor stopped and
looked closely at the nearest exhibit, peering in, pretending to read all about it.
The security guard wandered past and Professor Cortex breathed a sigh of relief. He
pointed his camera at the CCTV cameras and clicked. ‘At least three
cameras,' he reported to Lara, listening in from across the road.

‘You've been spotted,'
woofed Lara into the microphone. ‘A guard is coming straight for you.'
She checked the list of faces that the professor had downloaded from the Internet
and matched the guard against the pictures. ‘Looks like the head of
security,' she whined. ‘Major Anthony Thomas. Not good.'

Star signalled trouble with a short,
muffled whimper and the professor stopped nervously in his tracks. He jumped as a
hand fell on to his shoulder. ‘Good afternoon, sir,' said a voice.
‘Enjoying the exhibition?'

The professor
turned to see a short man with a peaked cap. One eye seemed to be looking directly
at the professor and the other had wandered off somewhere behind him.
False
eye?
wondered the professor.

 

 

The head of security noticed the man was
sweating, yet the museum was air-conditioned.
‘Very warm,' grinned the scientist.
He'd spent his life in a laboratory and was wishing he'd spent just a
little more time learning about being a spy.

‘Interested in history,
sir?' questioned the security guard.

‘Oh yes,' stammered the
professor. ‘Especially Egypt. Absolutely fascinating stuff. Went there on
holiday once,' he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘Did a Nile
cruise. They do the most magnificent kebabs, you know.'

Lara put her paw to her head.
We're casing the joint, searching for clues, and the prof decides to
make polite conversation with the head of security!

‘If you're dead keen, sir,
you'll know that the museum has a special Egyptian Room. It's where we
keep all the good stuff,' added the head of security.

‘Ooh goody,' nodded the
professor a little too enthusiastically. ‘I'll most definitely be going
there. To the spying … I mean
special
room. I love history so
much I wish I could live here,' he said, a silly grin fixed to his face.

Lara's heart was pounding
.
He's babbling.
She knew she could give word and abort the mission at
any time.

‘I more or less do live
here,' boasted the
guard.
‘Perk of the job. This card gets me access to all areas. Even the parts of the
museum that tourists can't reach.' He held up his securiy card and the
professor looked a little too closely.

‘Nice picture,' he beamed,
‘Mr Thomas.'

‘You seem very interested in
security,' noted the guard. ‘I noticed you were taking pictures,'
he said, one eye boring into the professor, the other looking into the middle
distance.

The professor wasn't sure which
was his good eye. He glanced behind himself warily, just to see what the other eye
was looking at. ‘Yes, yes,' he beamed, still a little too
enthusiastically. ‘Pictures of mummies and all that.'

‘Except, sir,' noted the
guard, ‘I saw you taking pictures of the security control panel and the CCTV
cameras. And, I was wondering, who would come to the British Museum and take
pictures of the cameras? If you don't mind me saying, that seems a little odd,
sir.'

‘Odd …' began the
professor, his brain whirring but his mouth unsure what was going to come out.
‘I also like CCTV cameras, you see. Two hobbies. That's it. Egypt and
security cameras. I've got hundreds of pictures of them. Quite
beautiful …'

Spud
couldn't help snorting with laughter. Star slammed her paw across his mouth
and the professor felt the bag wriggle. He was sure the guard's good eye had
spotted it so tried to end the conversation.

Lara had made her mind up. ‘Abort.
Abort,' she woofed into the microphone. The retired Spy Dog started packing
her surveillance equipment away, ready for a quick getaway.

‘Anyway,' sweated the
professor, ‘must go. I've got to take some pics of the CCTV cameras
outside Buck Palace. Beauties,' he said, smiling and backing away. ‘Made
in Germany, you know.'

The guard's hand came down on the
backpack. ‘If you don't mind, sir, I'll just take a peek inside.
Make sure you're not making off with anything.'

The professor panicked. He wriggled out
of his backpack and started to run. The guard wasn't sure what to do. He
clicked the bag open and two puppies leapt out. The man jumped, the bag fell to the
floor and Spud and Star were away. Star overtook the professor on the stairs,
saluting him as she slid down the bannister. Spud yelped loudly.
Create a
diversion.
He
snapped at the
guard's ankles until he dropped his walkie-talkie
. Make as much noise as
possible
, he remembered his mum telling him. The guard reached for his
radio, but it was smashed.

 

 

Tourists started running and panic
spread through the museum. By the time ‘Terror' Thomas regained control,
the professor was doubled up, hands on his knees, sucking in lungfuls of air.
He'd made it to the rendezvous point in Hyde Park. Star and Lara were with
him. Spud had exited out of the museum cafe, snaffling a cream cake on the way. He
trotted up to the gang, cream splattered round his nose.

‘How did I
do?' gasped the professor.

Star wagged hard and Spud licked the
last of the cream off his whiskers. Lara grabbed a pencil and notepad. ‘We
need access to all areas,' scribbled the dog. ‘We need Thomas's
security card.'

The professor had called an emergency
mission meeting for himself and the dogs. Ben was annoyed that the children were
banned. He stormed into the professor's hotel suite with his angry face
on.

‘There's no point,
Benjamin,' warned the professor, holding his hand in the air for calm.

Lara nodded.
He's absolutely
right
, she thought.
This is far too dangerous for you guys. Mr Big is
the most evil villain on the planet and he has a personal vendetta against all
of us. For once, you kids will have to sit this one out.

‘It's more than my
life's worth,' said the professor. ‘This is a top-secret mission,
requested by the Prime Minister. Please, Benjamin, leave it to the
experts.'

Ben managed to look mildly irritated as
he
turned and slammed the door. He always
knew they'd throw him out. ‘Which is why I phoned you, Soph. Just before
I stormed into the meeting. And hid my mobile behind a cushion,' he grinned to
his brother and sister. ‘So we can listen in!'

Sophie pressed the loudspeaker button on
her mobile and the children crowded round. The professor was in full flow.
‘Big has been seen in the museum for the last two days,' he reminded the
Spy Dogs. ‘And my best guess is that something will happen sooner rather than
later. Most probably tonight when the museum is closed and there are no pesky
tourists to get in his way,' he suggested. The scientist had loaded the museum
layout on to his tablet computer. ‘So GM451 and I have hatched a plan to get
inside the museum after hours. Once inside, we will wait for Big to strike and
capture him red-handed.'

Lara wagged her tail, but she was
feeling less than confident.
I doubt it's going to be quite as easy as it
sounds
, she thought.

‘The museum is patrolled at
night,' said the professor. ‘By two security guards. The security room
is here,' he said, tapping a finger at a
box in the middle of the diagram. ‘CCTV control
room. That means if we get access to this we can see the whole building. So this is
where we need to be.'

‘That'll be mission
control,' woofed Lara to the puppies. ‘Where we watch and
wait.'

Star took a pencil in her mouth and
tapped on a laptop. ‘How do we get into the museum when all the doors will be
locked?' read the words.

Ben rubbed his hands in glee as he heard
the professor's voice. ‘We steal Thomas's security card. He was
right – it gives access to all areas. And that's exactly what we
need.'

‘Sounds doable,' yapped
Star. ‘That disables the alarm and gets us into the CCTV control room, right,
Mum?'

Lara nodded.

‘Just one minor problem,'
said the professor, raising an eyebrow. ‘You see from the pictures I got that
entry to the CCTV control room is also by retina recognition.'

In the room next door, Ollie looked
confused. ‘What's a retina?' he shrugged.

‘Part of your eye,' hushed
Ben.

‘So they're doomed,'
whispered Sophie to
her brothers.
‘They'll never get in because they need Thomas's card and Thomas
himself.'

‘Shush,' whispered Ben,
putting his finger to his lips and straining to listen to the conversation next
door.

‘GM451 has done some splendid
investigative work. She checked him out in the flesh and medical records confirm it.
Anthony Thomas, aka “Terror Thomas” on account of his booming voice, is
ex-military. Retired due to ill health nine years ago. Lost an eye in Iraq. I
suspect his glass eye will be in a jar by his bed. Get our hands on that and
it's game on.'

It was 9 p.m. when the professor, Lara
and the puppies left the hotel. The professor had explained once again that it was
far too dangerous for children. ‘I know you'll be disappointed,'
he explained to the crestfallen trio. ‘But you've had more adventures
than most children have had hot dinners.' Spud's ears pricked up at the
sound of food. ‘Our plan is top secret. All I can tell you is that it involves
some breaking and entering and there's a high probability that we'll
encounter Mr Big himself.' The professor shuddered.

 

 

I'll keep you in the
loop
, thought Lara, grabbing the professor's hand and making it into the
shape of a hand phone.
Any excitement, we'll give you a bell.

Ben had ordered Ollie to look upset. He
was sobbing as Lara tucked him into bed. The family pet blew him a kiss as she
closed the bedroom door. She was sad that the children were upset, but thrilled at
the prospect of capturing Mr Big.

Five seconds later Ollie was grinning,
Ben congratulating him on his Oscar-winning performance. He looked at his watch.
‘We'll meet them at the museum at midnight,' he smiled.

Lara had
persuaded the professor to sit out phase one. She figured that he'd be a
liability in Terror Thomas's house, so he sat in his van and watched as the
pups approached. It was 11 p.m., an hour since Terror Thomas's bedroom light
had gone off. They knew he lived alone. Star had squeezed in through the cat flap
and opened the door. The three dogs stood in the hallway, nostrils twitching for
clues and their eyes making sense of the dark. ‘There's no telling where
his security card will be,' reminded Lara. ‘Let's search the
ground floor first.'

Star took the lounge, silently sniffing
round the sofa and armchairs. Lara tiptoed into the dining room before exploring the
downstairs toilet. Predictably, Spud took the kitchen. He sniffed the fruit bowl and
the kitchen table. He snaffled a small piece of bacon that had fallen behind the
cooker.
Maybe he keeps his security card in the fridge
, thought the
sharp-minded pup. He leapt at the fridge door and it creaked open.
You never
know
,
he thought. A dim light lit up the kitchen. Spud spied some
cheese.
And some ham! And looky here … pickled onions! My
fave.

He carefully removed the jar from the
fridge and pushed the door shut. He unscrewed the
lid and stuck his paw into the cool vinegar. He was
drooling. Pickled onions had overtaken donuts as his absolute favourite food. He
popped a pickle into his mouth and crunched. His eyes went gaga as the tangy onion
exploded in his mouth.
But no sign of a security card
, he thought to
himself as he met his mum and his sister outside in the hallway. Lara looked
disapprovingly at her son's jar of pickles. ‘Midnight snack,' he
announced. ‘Spying burns up calories!'

The dogs crept upstairs. Logic said the
card and glass eye would be in Thomas's bedroom so all three dogs nosed their
way in. The head of security was snoring gently. Lara tapped her paws along his
jacket pocket. ‘Bingo!' she whined, jabbing a paw at the garment. Star
stuck her long nose in and pulled out the card.

Spud was over by the bed. Big red digits
said it was 11.56.
Nearly midnight.
Time for another snack
, he grinned, tossing a pickle into his mouth.
There it is
, he thought, spotting the glass beside the bed. It was dark
but his keen doggie eyesight picked out the round outline of the glass eye, keeping
moist in a glass of water. The puppy jabbed his vinegary paw into
the jar and slithered it around after the eye.
Gotcha!
thought the puppy.
And, just so he doesn't wake up
and notice, I'll replace it with a pickled onion.
He plopped an
eye-sized pickle into the glass and retreated to the landing.

Star held up the card, Spud the glass
eye.

‘Phase one accomplished,'
whined Lara as the dogs made their escape.