Atticus Claw Hears a Roar Page 10

  ‘RRRRRRRRRRRRRR!’

  The vehicle rocked slightly as the jaguar jumped off the roof.

  ‘Where’s it gone?’ Inspector Cheddar stuck his face up against the window and peered out. At exactly the same moment the jaguar’s face appeared on the other side of the glass and peered in. It eyeballed Inspector Cheddar. Then it opened its mouth and let out an earth-shattering roar.

  “RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

  Atticus covered his ears with his paws. He had never heard anything as loud as that roar.

  Jaguar spit splattered over the windscreen. Inspector Cheddar fainted again.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Mrs Tucker exclaimed. She picked the Inspector up and threw him back on the sofa. ‘Stay still, everyone,’ she repeated. ‘It’ll go away soon.’

  ‘RRRRRRRRRRRRRR!’

  Another rumble came from nearby. There wasn’t just one jaguar out there; there were two.

  ‘RRRRRRRRRRRRRR!’

  Make that three! They were hunting in a pack, Atticus realised. Only jaguars didn’t usually hunt in packs; they hunted alone. More jaguars surrounded the tank. Atticus counted four, five, six …

  ‘There are seven of them, Mum!’ Michael said.

  Howard Toffly had seen seven jaguars. Could these be the same ones? Atticus rejected the idea as impossible. Howard Toffly’s expedition to find the lost treasure of the jaguar gods was over a hundred years ago. He swallowed. Unless these jaguars really were the jaguar gods of the ancient Maya.

  Atticus suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding. It was like the feeling he’d had in the attic at Nellie Smellie’s house only a thousand times worse. It screamed at him like an invisible police siren. DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! His fur puffed out, his ears flattened against his head and his tail went rigid. It wasn’t just the jaguars – gods or not – that they should be scared of. There was something else. He just knew it. They had to forget the treasure and leave now! He pawed frantically at Mrs Tucker.

  ‘What is it, Atticus?’ she said. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Meow, meow, meow!’ he yowled.

  Clickedy-clickedy-click. Nellie was still knitting. ‘I think he’s telling you to get out of here,’ she said quietly. ‘Fast.’

  For once Atticus felt grateful to Nellie. Maybe the witch-cat bond wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. At least Nellie could explain to the others what he was trying to tell them!

  ‘Okay.’ Mrs Tucker threw the gears into reverse. The tyres spun but they didn’t move. The vehicle was stuck in the mud!

  ‘RRRRRRRRRRRRRR!’

  The jaguars were closing in. Atticus felt the vehicle rock. They were trying to push it over!

  ‘I’m sorry, Atticus, but there’s nothing for it. We’ve got to go on.’ Mrs Tucker put the tank into first gear and slammed her foot on the accelerator. The tank lurched forwards. The two jaguars in front of it jumped out of the way. The tank ploughed through the jungle. It was virtually impossible to see out of the window. It wasn’t just the vegetation that made it difficult; it had begun to pour with rain. It was coming down thicker and faster than even the jaguar spit. Water streamed over the windows as if they were in a car wash. Only unlike a car wash, there was no let-up.

  The tank slithered about. They were heading downhill now. And they were rapidly picking up speed.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Mrs Cheddar.

  ‘I’ve lost control,’ Mrs Tucker said. She tried to slam on the brakes. ‘I can’t stop!’

  The tank careered along.

  ‘It’s a mud slide!’ shouted Michael. ‘Hold on!’

  All of a sudden the jungle dropped away. The tank plunged over a precipice. They slid down the mountain on a torrent of mud. Atticus felt his stomach sink and churn. They were in freefall! He thought he might faint, like Inspector Cheddar. It seemed like forever until the tank finally levelled out and slid to a halt.

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ Mrs Tucker panted. ‘I thought we’d had it there for a minute.’ She flicked on the windscreen wipers. ‘Holy coley,’ she whistled.

  Atticus peeped out cautiously. They had arrived in the valley of the jaguar gods. It was exactly as Howard Toffly had described. The amphibious vehicle had come to rest a little way from the lagoon. Behind the lagoon crashed the waterfall. Behind the waterfall lay great caves. And from within the caves came the glint of piles and piles of twinkling precious stones. They had found the lost treasure of the jaguar gods.

  But it wasn’t the lagoon, or the waterfall, or the caves or even the treasure that commanded their attention.

  It was the sight of the army of warriors who had come to meet them.

  The warriors were clad in furry loincloths and boots. On their heads they wore feathered headdresses. They surrounded the amphibious vehicle and raised their spears.

  ‘I think they want us to get out,’ said Nellie, popping her knitting and a few other things into a bag. ‘Come along.’

  Atticus wondered how she could be so calm about it. The thought crossed his mind that she might have something witchy planned. But if she did, she was keeping it to herself. He couldn’t pick up on it at all.

  Everyone clambered out of the cabin, except Inspector Cheddar who had to be carried by Mrs Tucker because he was still in a faint from seeing the jaguars. They stood in a group, facing the warriors.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Professor Verry-Clever scratched his great dome-shaped head. ‘They’re … they’re …’

  ‘ancient Maya,’ Michael whispered.

  ‘They didn’t die out after all!’ Callie’s eyes were as big as saucers.

  No, thought Atticus, they didn’t. This was what he’d been dreading, without quite being able to put his paw on it. These warriors were the descendants of the king of Pikan and his followers. The jaguar gods hadn’t killed them as Howard Toffly had assumed. Nor were the masks that Howard Toffly brought back with him relics from a thousand years ago. They were fresh. So was the skeleton he had seen. It had been put there by the Maya either as an offering to the jaguars, or some kind of grizzly warning for anyone who strayed too close to their secret world.

  Amazing though it was, the ancient Maya had survived here, in the valley of the jaguar gods, hidden away from the modern world for a thousand years.

  Inspector Cheddar had woken up again. He stared at the warriors. ‘Who are they?’ he asked.

  ‘They’re the ancient Maya, Dad,’ Michael said.

  ‘They didn’t die out,’ Callie explained.

  Just then there was an ear-splitting squawk. The warriors moved apart to make a path, bowing low. A very large man with a very big head passed between them. He was dressed in a colourful tunic decorated with feathers and beads. Upon one of his very wide shoulders perched an enormous parrot.

  ‘Posh-Scoundrel!’ Professor Verry-Clever exclaimed.

  ‘Professor Verry-Clever.’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel didn’t look at all pleased to see his old teacher. ‘How very annoying of you to turn up. Just when I was beginning to enjoy myself.’ He smiled smugly. ‘What do you think of my discovery? The ancient Maya, eh? Who’d have thought it?’

  ‘It’s not your discovery,’ Professor Verry-Clever said coldly.

  ‘Yes, you cheated!’ Michael said hotly.

  Inspector Cheddar drew himself up. ‘I’ll deal with this.’ He marched over to Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel. ‘I have a warrant for your arrest,’ he said, rattling a pair of shiny handcuffs at the Ambassador. ‘And yours!’ He found a slightly smaller pair for Pam.

  ‘Beak it, copper!’ Pam squawked.

  Honestly, thought Atticus. Pam’s language hadn’t improved since her spell in Her Majesty’s Prison for Bad Birds.

  ‘Well said, Pam.’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel raised his fist. In response the warriors lifted their spears. They started to chant and stamp with their feet.

  ‘HUM! HUM! HUM! HUM! HUM! HUM!’ The noise was deafening, like the jaguars’ roar.

  ‘Posh-Scoundrel see
ms to have some sort of power over them,’ Professor Verry-Clever whispered. ‘We need to be careful.’

  ‘HUM! HUM! HUM! HUM! HUM! HUM!’

  Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel held up his hand for silence. He addressed the warriors in a commanding voice using a language Atticus had never heard before.

  ‘What’s he saying?’ Mrs Tucker asked anxiously.

  Professor Verry-Clever listened carefully. ‘He says the Inspector is an evil spirit. He says he’s come to take them to the underworld.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Mrs Cheddar.

  Pam let out another squawk. ‘CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT! CAT!’ she shrieked, flapping at Atticus.

  Atticus froze. Pam had recognised him!

  Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel’s gaze fixed on Atticus. ‘So you’re the cat detective,’ he said. ‘Ribena told me to watch out for you.’ He addressed the warriors again.

  ‘Now what’s he saying?’ asked Mrs Tucker.

  ‘He says we’re all spirits from the underworld, including the cats,’ the Professor translated. ‘He says we’ve come to steal their treasure and destroy their civilisation.’

  ‘Hang on a minute!’ Callie said indignantly. ‘We’re not here to steal their treasure! It’s Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel and the Tofflys they’ve got to look out for. Can’t you tell them that, Professor Verry-Clever?’

  ‘I’ll try.’ Professor Verry-Clever began to shout in ancient Mayan over the din. No one took any notice of him. ‘I think it might be my accent,’ he said in a worried voice. ‘I was never as good as Posh-Scoundrel at extinct languages.’

  Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel barked out an order.

  One group of warriors surrounded the humans. Another group surrounded the four cats. Atticus found himself looking at the sharp point of a spear. ‘Don’t,’ he warned Thomas. The kitten was hissing and spitting. ‘We’ll have to wait until we get the chance to escape.’

  ‘Why are they even listening to you, anyway?’ Michael asked Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel defiantly.

  ‘Because I know their culture and their language,’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel answered. ‘Because I appeared from nowhere on a boat which flew over a waterfall suspended from a giant parachute …’

  ‘That was my parachute!’ Mr Tucker cried. ‘You thief!’

  Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel ignored him. ‘I also brought with me some gifts for the king. Or at least that’s what I told him.’

  ‘What gifts?’ Mrs Tucker demanded.

  ‘Three magpies, a parrot as big as a pig, two elderly slaves and Ribena,’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel replied with a smirk. ‘Although I think I’ll keep Pam as I’ve become rather fond of her.’ He gave the parrot a bit of fruit from his pocket. Pam gobbled it up greedily.

  ‘You’ve given your wife away!’ Inspector Cheddar said, shocked. ‘You fiend!’

  ‘Well, I haven’t exactly given her away,’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel said. ‘The king wants to marry her.’

  ‘But Ribena looks like a cross between a warthog and a hippopotamus!’ Michael whispered to Professor Verry-Clever. ‘Why would the king want to marry her?’

  ‘The ancient Maya have a different idea of beauty,’ Professor Verry-Clever whispered back. ‘It’s entirely possible that to the king, Ribena is a vision of loveliness.’

  Atticus found it hard to believe that anyone would think Ribena Posh-Scoundrel was a vision of loveliness, but if that’s what the Professor said, he supposed he must be right.

  Callie had been thinking about something else. ‘What do you mean, two elderly slaves?’ she demanded.

  ‘Ribena’s pestilential parents, of course.’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel’s eyes filled with malice. ‘You’re wrong about me wanting to steal the treasure. That was Lord and Lady Toffly’s idea. And it was Ribena who suggested we should arrange a nasty surprise for the Tuckers so that her beastly parents could take back Toffly Hall. All I ever wanted was revenge on the Tofflys.’

  Revenge? Atticus pricked up his ears. That’s what the magpies wanted: on him! But why did Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel want revenge on his in-laws?

  ‘I don’t mind Roderick, but Antonia is a pain in the loincloth.’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel scowled. ‘You have no idea what I’ve had to put up with from that woman over the years. Nothing has ever been good enough for her: not my job as the British Ambassador to Nicaragua; not the fact that I can speak four hundred languages (three hundred of which are extinct); not the fact that I won an Olympic gold medal; not even the fact that I’m cleverer than Professor Verry-Clever.’ He let out a deep sigh. ‘And all because I’m not a lord.’

  So that was it! Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel had a massive chip on his very wide shoulder.

  ‘I planned to find the treasure, return it to the government of Nicaragua and claim all the glory,’ the former Ambassador said.

  ‘Aha!’ said Professor Verry-Clever. ‘I knew it.’

  ‘I believed Her Majesty the Queen would make me into a lord and I could shut Antonia up once and for all by being grander than she was. Well, now I don’t need Her Majesty’s help. Thanks to my new friends here in the jungle, I’m better than a lord. I’m to become a prince of the ancient Maya. Ha, ha, ha!’

  Atticus winced. Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel had gone into super-villain mode.

  ‘My first thought was to ask the king to sacrifice Antonia to the jaguar gods,’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel confessed. ‘But then I realised even that was too good for her. Oh yes. Life as a slave is the ultimate comedown for Lady Antonia Toffly. She won’t be so high and mighty when I’ve made her scrub Pam’s poo bucket a few times. Not to mention the king’s cesspit. I don’t think anyone’s pumped it out for nearly a thousand years.’ He gave Pam another bit of fruit.

  ‘BLEEEUUUURRRCHHHH!’ Pam burped.

  It probably wasn’t a good idea to feed Pam too much fruit, Atticus thought. She might explode.

  ‘You’ll never get away with it,’ Michael said.

  ‘Who’s going to stop me?’

  ‘We will,’ said Callie. ‘Professor Verry-Clever will explain everything to the king. I’m sure he’ll understand the Professor’s accent. Then Dad and Atticus will arrest you and the king will set us free.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel said. His eyes twinkled. ‘Did I happen to mention that the king was so impressed by the sacrificial masks I brought with me, he has made me an honorary priest?’

  There was a stunned silence. An honorary priest? Atticus was horrified. In the ancient Mayan world it was the priests who got to choose who should be sacrificed to the gods.

  ‘So I get to choose who’s sacrificed to the gods,’ Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel confirmed. He pointed to Inspector Cheddar. ‘And I say we start with you!’

  ‘What?’ Inspector Cheddar’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘You can’t do that!’

  ‘I warned you!’ It was Nellie who spoke. ‘I warned you, but you didn’t listen!’

  It was true, thought Atticus. They should have believed Nellie. Bonkers or not, Inspector Cheddar was going to be sacrificed by the ancient Maya … unless Atticus could think of some way to save him. But for once in his nine lives he felt stumped.

  Benjamin Posh-Scoundrel clapped his hands. The warriors raised their spears. ‘To the Acropolis!’ he shouted.

  The city was in the thick of the jungle a short distance away from the lagoon.

  It was an exact replica of the great city of Pikan. At its centre was the Acropolis, where the royal palace stood. Above the Acropolis a great stepped pyramid rose high into the sky. On top of the pyramid perched the altar where the priests performed sacrifices to the gods. And on top of the altar, Thug and Slasher had been set to work scrubbing the sacrificial stone.

  ‘This is even worse than cleaning Pam’s poo bucket!’ Thug grumbled.

  So far that morning the king had ordered the sacrifice of two chickens, one wife (to make way for Ribena), seven slaves and a rat that had been found in the royal bedchamber; all to try to make it stop raining. Fortunately for the magpies
it seemed that the jaguar gods were not appeased by the offerings: the rain had lashed down until lunchtime, taking most of the mess with it. Even so there was still quite a lot of sticky yukky stuff to come off.

  ‘It’s lucky we brought some spare Scrubbit,’ Slasher grumbled.

  ‘I don’t see why we have to clean it anyway,’ said Thug. ‘The king’s not fussed. The yuckier the better as far as he’s concerned.’

  ‘Benjamin Poshface persuaded him we should,’ Slasher said. He clicked his beak angrily. ‘Since he became a priest he’s got even more hoity-toity than what he was when he was an ambassador.’

  ‘’Ere, Slash,’ Thug said. ‘Talking about Benjamin Posh-face, is it true about him giving Ribena to the king?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Slasher. ‘The king wants to marry her so he’s going to make Poshface a prince in exchange.’

  ‘The king needs his eyes testing,’ said Thug.

  ‘You’re right there, Thug,’ Slasher shuddered. ‘I’d rather marry Pam.’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ said Thug. ‘I’d rather marry a packet of Scrubbit.’ He mopped away at a stubborn bit of rat. ‘Has Pam made up with the boss yet?’ he asked.

  ‘Nah,’ Slasher said. ‘She wants a divorce.’

  ‘Does that mean she’s still after half of our old nest under the pier?’ Thug said indignantly.

  ‘I s’pose,’ Slasher said.

  ‘Cos if she is that’s not fair.’ Thug felt unusually aggrieved. ‘I mean, she’s doing all right compared to us. She’s sitting pretty, farting away and stuffing her gob with her new bessy, Benjamin La-di-da Stuck-up, while we’re stuck here scrubbing this, that and the other …’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Slasher said wearily.

  ‘And if the king makes Posh-face a prince, think of all the treasure he’ll be getting! I’ll bet Posh-face gives some to Pam. He’s practically in love with her.’ Thug frowned. He was deeply troubled by the injustice of the situation. ‘It’s not right. I mean, if Pam can have half of our nest, why can’t we have half of her treasure?’