Blackout (7 page)

The Shard stands out on the capital's skyline. Its tip is a gleaming focal point of steel and glass, the tallest and most modern of London's buildings.

Yet, on the inside, it was 1950. The top floor was inhabited entirely by pensioners. The floor had a patterned carpet, to hide the dirt. Portraits of royalty looked down on proceedings. Everything was last millennium. And that was exactly the point.

To be part of this elite group you had to be able to remember the war. It didn't really matter which war: any world war would do. The essential ingredient was that these people had been recruited, mostly from old people's homes, with one thing in common: life was better in the olden days.

The Past Master looked around proudly at his team. Some of the ladies were knitting and chatting. There was a small TV in the corner and some of the team had an eye on that. It was a programme about family trees and they loved that kind of thing. Not the new kind of thing. They all agreed that too many TV programmes were rude or just plain loud. ‘When our machine gets working, we'll be back to just three TV channels, like in the olden days,' said Iris, her knitting needles clicking reassuringly.

‘Oh goody,' said Joan. ‘Of course, in the really old days, we didn't have a telly, you know. We just had books.'

‘And our imaginations,' sighed Iris.

‘And rickets,' remembered Gladys, joining in from the other side of the room. ‘My dad says that, during the war, he always left his back door open.'

‘That's probably why his submarine sank, Gladys,' offered Iris, glancing up from her knitting.

Geoffrey was brewing the tea. There was always tea available and they made sure it was proper tea, strong and sugary. Not newfangled herbal tea. Theirs was tea from a teapot, made
with tea leaves and a tea-strainer. Dot had made a cake and Frank was passing the mints around. And the Past Master knew that after they'd eaten there'd be a sing-song and a game of Scrabble. But, most importantly, there would be chatter and laughter, and stories of when they'd visited the seaside or worked in a factory. Or down the pit.
Not that there are any pits any more
, he thought.
Or many factories, come to think of it. Everyone works in offices. On computers. But our little GoD project will put a stop to all that
.

He eyed the machine. The tests had gone swimmingly. He looked at the huge map of Europe on the wall. Wales and Scotland already had big red crosses through them.
Two down
, he thought.

He was immensely proud of his creation. And now, instead of one laser, the diamonds had been arranged in such a way that it would shoot multiple beams, taking down dozens of satellites orbiting above Western Europe. The good old days would be returned. He imagined receiving his knighthood for ‘services to society'.

There was just one more diamond required and he knew exactly which one. The newspaper
was spread out on the table before him, Shakespeare's face leering at him, the diamond hanging heavily from his neck. This was the final piece of the jigsaw: this diamond would power the machine. A European blackout beckoned and, because there was no room for error, the Past Master had sent his best agent.

He wondered how Maude was getting on.

Maude had spotted the cat within five minutes of coming aboard the
TriTanic
. She spent her time observing from a distance. She knew it was important to choose the right moment. The old lady watched Professor Cortex overacting terribly, playing the role of Maximus Rich so well that he'd begun to believe it.

Shakespeare's neck was aching.
It's a real effort keeping it held high, with the weight of the biggest carats in the world! But I'm playing a crucial role in capturing the diamond thief
. He forced his neck upright.
Here's the diamond. Come and get it
.

He'd been determined to keep his cat's eyes peeled. But, by day two, the cruise was coming to an end and Shakespeare was feeling frustrated. He'd stayed alert, on the lookout for
evil baddies. The cabaret had a magician who looked a bit shifty. The head chef's eyes were too close together.
But everyone else just seems kind of normal
. Shakespeare had studied the pattern of diamond crimes and the professor's words were ringing in his head.
Old people. All the robbers have been very old indeed
. He noticed there was an awful lot of wealth, which is to be expected on the world's most expensive river cruise, but not any really old people.

It was on the second day that Shakespeare's eyes met Maude's. He knew at once that she was the thief.
She's the oldest person aboard. By a mile! She looks like such a sweet old lady and is therefore the most perfect diamond thief in the world
, he thought. Shakespeare sat on the professor's knee, holding his head extra high as Maude brushed past their table.

‘May I join you?' she asked.

‘Of course,' smiled the scientist, pulling out a chair and sweeping crumbs off it.

The silver-haired lady and the professor got chatting. ‘I'm Maude from cabin five and I've got fifteen cats at home,' she cooed, stroking Shakespeare at every opportunity. ‘What a lovely collar,' she purred, rubbing her thumb
over the Millennium Diamond. Shakespeare stiffened.

Professor Cortex was also suspicious, sniffing a diamond thief. ‘It's the Millennium Diamond,' he said grandly, using his poshest voice. ‘I'm a recluse called Maximus Cort – I mean Maximus
Rich
,' he corrected himself.

‘Well, Maximus, why don't I get you and I a little drinky?' suggested Maude, creaking to her feet. ‘Let's celebrate the last night of our cruise with a nice glass of bubbly.'

The old lady wobbled off to the bar. Shakespeare looked at the professor. He stared back, his eyes and mouth wide. ‘She's the one,' he hissed. ‘Did you see the way her beady eyes lit up when she rubbed your collar?'

Shakespeare nodded. He jabbed his paw at the professor's cup.
When she comes back your drink will be drugged. On guard, Prof
, thought the cat.
This mission is warming up nicely
.

‘She's coming!' hissed Professor Cortex, as Maude collected her drinks from the bartender and started wobbling back to the table. ‘I'll keep her busy, you check her cabin for diamonds, OK?' he said out of the side of his mouth. ‘She'll be trying to drug me. But I'm
clever. I'll double bluff.' He tapped the side of his nose, ‘then when she's asleep I'll join you in cabin five.'

Shakespeare felt his heart thumping, his tail swishing in excitement.
Sounds like a half-decent plan
. He perched on the professor's knee, waiting for the right moment to disappear and explore Maude's cabin.

The elderly lady tottered back to the table, carrying two tall glasses. The professor was the world's best scientist, but wasn't really spy material. While his brain could conjure some magical inventions, it struggled to think under pressure.

Slowly and deliberately, Maude placed one glass in front of the professor and the other in front of herself. She eased back into her seat. ‘You look warm, Maximus,' she said. ‘You're sweating.'

Professor Cortex took a hankie from his top pocket and mopped his brow. He was doing his best. He couldn't quite bring himself to believe that this lovely old lady was a diamond thief. ‘You like diamonds, don't you, Maude?' he blurted, staring into her eyes and trying not to blink.

‘I do,' smiled Maude. ‘They say that diamonds are a girl's best friend.'

‘I bet you have quite a collection.'

Maude smiled a knowing smile. ‘You know, don't you?' she said, a twinkle in her eighty-four-year-old eyes. ‘And you're not a recluse, are you, Maximus?'

‘And you're not a normal passenger, are you,
Maude?' said the professor, calm on the outside but panicking on the inside.

Shakespeare gulped. His heart was racing.
This must be what humans mean when they talk about a cat-and-mouse game
. His ears were on the conversation, but his eyes were on the drinks.
The pattern of the diamond robberies is always the same. The old lady has obviously spiked the prof's drink with a sleeping potion
. He looked at the glasses, bubbles rising.
She knows the professor is on to her. The only thing she doesn't know is that I'm a secret agent cat, ready to pounce. But, as far as the diamond thief is concerned, I must behave like an ordinary mog
.

Shakespeare sat on the professor's knee and purred, trying to look like he imagined an ordinary cat would. Neither of the humans touched their drinks. Maude reached over and tickled Shakespeare behind the ear. ‘What a fabulous ship's cat you've been,' she cooed. ‘I see you've got two collars. A flashing one and a diamond one. How wonderful.'

Professor Cortex's face was getting redder. He reached for his hankie and mopped again. ‘I know about you, Maude,' he blurted. ‘And your little caper, and now
you
know I know.
And me knowing you know I know makes things a little … you know … complicated,' he smiled, losing track of what he was on about.

Maude looked confused. ‘You seem to know an awful lot, Maximus. All I know is that I'd like to propose a toast,' she suggested, looking at the champagne glasses.

The professor imagined himself to be one step ahead. ‘Here's another thing I know, Maude,' he babbled, pointing at a London landmark behind the old lady. ‘There's the Shard,' he said. ‘London's highest building. It's so modern and striking. You really must
look
.' His plan was to distract her so that he could swap his drugged champagne for her not-drugged one.

But Maude had been hand-picked for this mission. She didn't
think
she was one step ahead of the professor, she absolutely
knew
she was. Shakespeare held his breath as she turned slowly and surely, giving the professor just enough time to switch the drinks.

Now he had the drugged one.

Phew! Nice move, Prof
, thought Shakespeare, not suspecting a thing.

He winked at the cat. ‘Shoo,' he mouthed. ‘Go and search her cabin.' He jabbed a finger towards the other end of the boat. ‘I'll be there in a minute or two.'

‘It is rather magnificent,' smiled Maude, turning back to the professor. ‘I've heard that the view from the top is something special.'

The professor mopped his brow again, but was grinning broadly. Shakespeare dropped silently to the floor. He heard the champagne glasses clinking, and the gentle conversation continued as he sloped off to cabin number 5.

Shakespeare had no trouble finding a way into cabin number 5. The porthole had been left conveniently open.
Too conveniently?
He jumped on to Maude's bed and did a bit of snooping. It was evening time and darkness was settling over London. The cat couldn't reach the light switch so was using his night-vision as best he could. Shakespeare's heart was racing.
This is soooo exciting. A proper mission
. He was sure Professor Cortex would be joining him, just as soon as Maude had sipped her own sleeping potion and was fast off.

The cat checked all the places a cat could.
Under the bed. Clear. On top of the wardrobe. Nothing. I hope the prof hurries up
, he thought.
His hands will be able to make light work of searching in
the drawers and cupboards. There has to be a big stash of diamonds somewhere
.

Shakespeare's ears twitched as he heard footsteps shuffling along the corridor.
At last
! He yowled loudly. ‘In here, Prof.'

The cat came to full alertness when he heard the scratching sound of a key card being inserted in the door. A dark figure entered the cabin. Shakespeare meowed again.
About time
, he thought.
This place is spooky on my own. We've got diamonds to find
.

Maude was an expert on cats. She had spun the professor a web of lies that contained just one truth: she did have fifteen cats of her own. Shakespeare hissed as he was expertly plucked from the bed, the old lady grasping him firmly by the scruff of the neck.

He yowled and hissed again, his claws outstretched and his legs kicking in the darkness. Maude was a sprightly eighty-four-year-old and he was unceremoniously bundled into a bag, the zip sealing him in.

Shakespeare was in a panic. His mind was flooded with thoughts of the last time he was dumped in a bag.
I hate bags. And water. And diamond thieves. And now I hate old ladies too. Let me out!

Nobody heard his muffled yowling as he was carried on to the top deck. But Maude was on a mission too. There was no way she was going to let the cat out of the bag. The pensioner was alone on the top deck. She took a small torch from her handbag and gave three flashes
towards Westminster Bridge. The cruise boat sailed on, the lights of the central London riverbank lighting the scene. As the boat passed under the bridge, Maude raised the cat bag above her head. A hook attached to the end of a long piece of rope caught it and the bag left her hands, hauled upwards by Ernest and Albert.

Maude returned to the lower deck, her part of the mission accomplished. She let herself back into cabin 5 and got into her nightie. The professor was fast asleep in the bar. The Cook family had bedded down for the night.

Everyone was going to have a good night's sleep. Except Spy Cat. He crouched in the darkness of the bag, hoping someone would hear his muffled yowls for help. He felt himself being hauled across London and then upwards, to somewhere very high indeed.

This mission has gone from warm to red-hot!

Shakespeare had been left in the bag. He was furious with himself.
Catnapped! Double-crossed by a pensioner. Not quite what we planned
.

He'd stayed awake in the darkness, attempting to keep track of time. Eventually some
light crept through the tiny holes in the zip so he assumed it was sunrise. He crouched low as he heard muffled voices. ‘You're going to have to be quick, Lenny,' he heard someone say. All of a sudden the zip was ripped apart and a man's bony fingers expertly pinned him down. Another man used a pair of wire-cutters to snip through Shakespeare's diamond collar. Shakespeare struggled and hissed, but to no avail. The diamond collar fell away and the cat struggled until the pressure was released and he flew across the room, hair raised, ready to do battle.

At least my translating collar is intact
, he thought, seeking refuge under a table.

‘He's just frightened,' he heard a lady say. ‘Let's find a saucer of milk. He'll be fine when he settles in. And, when this escapade is all over, he can come home with me.'

Settle in? Come home with you? I'm not planning on either, madam! I've got a perfectly good home with a family I love
.

Shakespeare peeped out from under the table.
Old people. Everywhere
. His eyes were drawn to the man who had his diamond collar. He clamped the collar in a vice, slipped a dark
mask over his eyes and took a burning flame to it. Before long the diamond fell away from the collar and the man removed the mask. He picked up the diamond in a gloved hand and held it to the light.

‘The final piece,' he announced to the room full of old people. ‘This day will go down in history. When the satellites align at midday today, we will be going back to the good old days.'

There was a warm round of applause from the old folks.

The good old days?
thought Shakespeare.
Old people, diamonds and satellites?
He remembered the professor's theory that the three were somehow linked. His paw went to his translating collar. He felt calmed by the flashing light. He knew that his translating collar also had a tracking device. He thought of the family waking up and realizing their cat was missing.
Help will be on its way
, he thought.
I will infiltrate the gang and pick up a few clues. Eyes and ears alert
.

He jumped effortlessly on to a kitchen table. A man stroked him and a woman laid down a saucer of milk.
No thanks
, he thought.
I'm here to spy
.

‘Shush,' hissed one of the old men. ‘We're on the news.'

The TV was turned up full volume as the newsreader looked gravely at the camera. ‘Panic has set in across Scotland,' he announced. ‘We are unable to bring you any pictures because all communication channels are down. Reports indicate that there is no Internet and that TV and radio connections have also failed. There are reports of people getting terribly lost because their satnavs have stopped working and they no longer have the ability to read a map.'

‘We didn't have satnav in the war,' Reg pointed out, ‘and we never got lost once.'

‘But you did bomb the wrong town, dearest,' reminded Ivy.

The news item continued, but Shakespeare's attention was drawn to the map.
Scotland is crossed out? And they said ‘we're on the news'?

He looked down at a huge piece of paper that was unfurled on the table. His translating collar allowed him to unscramble the words and pictures.
It's a diagram of that machine
, he thought, glancing at the contraption that sat in the middle of the floor. There were masses of calculations that he couldn't understand. His
eyes fell on a sentence that had the word ‘precision' underlined and one that he had to read twice. ‘When the machine is started, there will be thirty-six seconds before the lasers ignite.'

Shakespeare was puzzled. His brain was working on an idea that he didn't think was possible.
Especially not by old people. But I suspect I'll have thirty-six seconds to save the world
.