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but he wasn’t about to give up.
This feels like dog work but if I can chew my way through the rope the baddie will be trapped. The kids will be safe and I’ll be the coolest cat in the neighbourhood.
He imagined the ceremony at the neighbourhood-watch meeting.
Lara will most probably put a medal around my neck. There might be some photographers and reporters. I wonder if there will be some TV?
He was snapped out of his daydream as the rope suddenly became taut. He stopped chewing and examined his handiwork.
Three-quarters through the rope
, he thought.
But if the rope has gone tight that means the man has started climbing back up. The baddie is escaping … which means the kids are in danger!
He ran to the hole and peered into it – he was sure he could see the top of a head in the darkness.
There’s no time to lose. I must chew faster!
     

     
    Shakespeare gnawed for all he was worth. He’d chewed on a few bones from the butcher’s shop when times had been hard but this rope sure was tough. One of his side teeth came loose and he spat it out, blood oozing into his mouth. The fibres were almost chewed through. Then, all of a sudden, to Shakespeare’s massive relief, the rope snapped under the pressure of the climbing man and disappeared down the hole. There was a thud from way below and a wail as the baddie hit the floor hard.
Phew
, thought the cat, venturing back to the hole in the ground. He leant in as far as he dared and miaowed as loudly as he could. ‘Got you, you evil baddie.’ Shakespeare knew the man couldn’t understand cat language but it felt good to know that he was trapped until the police arrived.
    ‘Who’s there?’ wailed a voice from below. ‘You could have killed me, idiot!’
    ‘Miaow,’ replied Shakespeare smugly. ‘Just
Agent 009. And I’m up here and you’re trapped down there, so who’s the idiot?’
    ‘Is that a cat?’ yelled the man.
    Shakespeare replied proudly with a double miaow and a hiss. Fighting crime felt good. ‘That’s Spy Cat to you. With a keen brain and a translating collar. Solving crimes and sweeping baddies off the streets.’
    ‘Whoever’s there with that cat, you have to get me out,’ echoed the faint voice from the mine. ‘Someone’s cut the rope.’
    Chewed it actually
, smirked the cat.
And not ‘someone’. Some cat.
    ‘You’re in grave danger,’ yelled the voice from below.
    Not as long as you’re in there and we’re not
, thought Shakespeare, dusting his paws and scampering after the children.

10. The Storm
    The rain bounced off the tent. Night-time had come quicker with the arrival of the dark rain clouds, so Jess suggested the children changed into their pyjamas and snuggled up until the police arrived. ‘You always feel safer when you’re tucked up,’ she said, managing a smile. Ollie was changed in double-quick time, his wide eyes peering out of the top of his sleeping bag. Sophie and Ben cuddled up protectively either side of him.
    Jess had to shout to make herself heard above the rain. ‘Let’s think this through,’ she began. ‘It’s almost dark. The police are probably at the mine, arresting the escaped prisoner. They know where we are.’
    Sophie gasped as lightning lit up the tent for an instant.
    ‘So I vote we stay put until then,’ Jess continued. ‘If we move from here the police won’t know how to find us.’ The children jumped as a huge crack of thunder rumbled around the sky.
    A muffled voice came from inside Ollie’s sleeping bag. ‘What if the baddie finds us?’
    ‘He won’t,’ said Jess, looking confident, ‘The police are probably arresting him right now.’ She flexed her arm muscles and grinned. ‘Plus, nobody fools with No Mess Jess.’
    Ben smiled bravely, appreciating Jess’s attempt to lighten the mood.
    Ollie’s eyes reappeared out of the top of his sleeping bag. He liked the idea of ‘No Mess Jess’.
    ‘Seriously, though, if that man has escaped from the mine, the last thing we want to