The Whiskered Spy (4 page)

N
ow
, I don’t know what your policy is on disembodied voices suddenly coming out of nowhere and intruding upon what is supposed to be a perfectly wonderful evening, but I have to admit to not liking them. And I said as much. In fact the exact words I used were, “Could you please leave me alone and harass someone else?”

“No, I cannot,” the disembodied voice retorted, and with not a little bit of pique I might add.

I groaned both in spirit and in body.

“You could have prevented what happened, little one,” said the voice, “but you didn’t. You had it in your power to stop me from being murdered and you didn’t.”

Now, you would probably have expected me to pick up on the M word but I had stopped listening when the voice mentioned something about me being little. It perked me up a great deal. All my life people have called me freakishly large, and here was some unknown voice coming from up above calling me little. So you can’t blame me for jumping to conclusions.

“Thank you, God,” I said. “I’ve always said I wasn’t big. And thank you for finally answering my prayers. I’ve been praying for a long time, even though I wasn’t even sure you existed. I’m so glad that you do and that you’ve taken time out of your busy—”

“I’m not God,” thundered the voice. And now I noticed it sounded kinda hollow, as if it came from a tomb or something.

“Oh,” I said, a little taken aback. And then enlightenment struck. I cocked an eye at the upper branches of the tree where the voice seemed to be coming from. “Guardian angel?” I said, remembering something Dana had said.

An unearthly sigh drifted down and the voice spoke again. “I am not your guardian angel, little one. I’m the soul of the woman you allowed to be murdered.”

This rattled me somewhat, but nevertheless I trudged on. “Well, allowed is a big word,” I sputtered. If this person wasn’t God or my guardian angel, there was only one other option: Brutus or one of his gang was playing a practical joke on me. I now saw all. It had struck me as odd that Brutus, notoriously the toughest cat on the block, would suddenly go all wimpy on me but now his behavior made perfect sense: he was simply setting me up for the arrival of this ‘ghost’.

I gave a knowing smile. “The game is up, my friend. The cat’s out of the bag. I know what you’re up to. So you’d better come on down or else I’m coming up there. And you don’t want that, I assure you.”

A sad rattle sounded from higher up the tree. “It is true. It’s not what I want for you.”

“You’re damn skippy it’s not what you want. So, you better scoot and tell Brutus his psychological game didn’t work out as planned.”

“You are right,” heaved the voice mournfully. “It is certainly not how I planned this evening to go.”

“You have to tell me how you’re doing that thing with the voice,” I said. “It’s a great trick for Halloween.”

“Alas, I won’t be here when Halloween comes around.” The voice—I still hadn’t figured out to whom it belonged—seemed to be drifting farther and farther away somehow, growing weaker if you will. “Next time, little one, pay more attention and act when called upon. Don’t be afraid to intervene…”

And with these words, the voice died away and silence once again reigned. Well, as far as silence can reign in a small town park in the middle of the night. “Hello,” I said tentatively. “Are you there?”

But nothing stirred. And though of course I knew I was the victim of some kind of practical joke, I still felt strangely dejected. The voice had sounded so… sad. And, frankly, that just doesn’t fit the MO of Brutus or his amigos. It takes some measure of intelligence to be sad, is what I mean to say. And those guys just don’t have it. Inane giggling is what I would have expected. Not this otherworldly melancholy.

I shivered in spite of the balmy spring weather and wondered when the next surprise would mar my peaceful existence. Well, as it was, I didn’t have long to wait, for I’d just picked up on some promising squeaking sounding from down below that almost certainly was mouse-like in origin, when yet another voice addressed me.

“Well? Do you believe me now?”

As I might have guessed, it was Dana, back to badger me with her nonsense. I searched around to tell her what was what, when I noticed to my surprise there was no one there. And yet her voice had come from somewhere in my rear. Very close by it had sounded. Right about where the tip of my tail now raked the air in search of feline life forms and finding none.

“Can’t see me, can you?” Dana said. And I could have sworn she was sitting right next to me. Once again my tail swooshed through the air and found nothing to arrest its sweep.

“Dana?” I said, slightly spooked now. “Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me… little one.”

I started. Little one. That’s how that spooky friend of Brutus had called me. But how would Dana know about that? Had she been spying on me?

“You… you heard that?”

“Of course I did. I was sitting here the whole time.”

I wheeled round. Still no sign of Dana. “You were… here?” I was starting to get really rattled now. How was she doing this? Camouflage?

“Sure. Haven’t you noticed? Oh, but I forgot. You don’t believe I can turn myself invisible, do you?”

I laughed but, though I intended to make it sound nonchalant and carefree, even to my own ears it sounded shrill and terrified. “That’s a good one, Dana. Good joke.”

“It’s not a joke, Tom. I am invisible.”

“But that’s impossible.”

“It’s possible. And that voice you heard? It belonged to the woman we saw killed earlier tonight.”

I have to confess I shivered from eyebrows to paw pads at these words. “That was… a ghost?”

“Yep. You should feel honored. Those were that poor woman’s very last words here on earth before her spirit joined the afterlife.”

“A dead woman’s ghost…” I swallowed heavily. “spoke to me?”

“Quite an experience, don’t you think?”

“Quite,” I said, and had to lie down for a bit, suddenly feeling faint.

“So now do you believe me?”

I moaned. “Come on, Dana. This is no way to treat a guy. Drop the camouflage act and show yourself, will you? This isn’t funny.”

There was a momentary silence, then all of a sudden the air in front of me seemed to shimmer slightly, then a bright light flashed that almost blinded me, and the next moment Dana was sitting next to me, licking her paws as if nothing happened.

I
gasped
at the sight of her. “How did you do that?” I cried.

She studied her paw. “I told you. I can make myself invisible.”

“But that’s impossible!”

“You keep repeating that. Didn’t you see me with your own eyes? Or rather, didn’t see me?”

I had to admit that I had, though I could hardly believe it. “But, but, but…” I sputtered.

“Yes?” she said sweetly, looking at me from under her long lashes.

“But, but, but…” I tried once more.

“If I didn’t know you better, I would think that you’re suffering from speechlessness. But no, that’s impossible. Tommy the cat is never lost for words.”

“I, I, I…”

She groaned. “Look, the explanation is perfectly simple, and if you had listened to me instead of running off like that—extremely rude of you, by the way—you would have been prepared when Zoe Huckleberry came to bid you farewell and would have had something better to say to her than some nonsense about Halloween or guardian angels. God knows she only had a few moments left here on this mortal coil.” She shook her head. “What a waste to spend them talking to you.”

I still wasn’t completely recuperated from seeing Dana explode onto the scene like that, but I was aware that this was some sort of verbal abuse she was slinging my way. “For your information, we had a perfectly interesting conversation. And Zoe, if that’s her name, had some very nice things to say about me.”

“Like what?” said Dana.

“Like…” Here she rather had me. What had this Zoe ghost been saying to me? Then I remembered something rather neat. “Like the fact that she complimented me on my slim form,” I said triumphantly.

“She did not,” scoffed Dana.

“She did too. She kept calling me little one and—”

“You seem to forget I heard the entire conversation.”

“Oh,” I said. I had indeed forgotten this one small detail. Then something else occurred to me. “Say, if you were here, why didn’t you talk to her yourself?”

“I…” Now it was Dana’s turn to be speechless. She pursed her lips. “I didn’t want to interfere."

I laughed. “Now that’s the lamest excuse for not talking to a ghost I’ve ever heard.” And that was the weirdest sentence I’d ever formulated. Talking to a ghost? Was this for real?

“I know,” she said, and stared up at the moon for a bit, chewing her lower lip. “I probably should have said something, shouldn’t I? I just didn’t think she’d be out of here so soon. I thought we’d have more time.”

“She did leave quite abruptly,” I said. And it was true. One moment she was here and the next she was gone with the wind. Or whatever it is these ghosts travel on when passing beyond the veil, if veils are what they pass beyond.

“I hope you realize now how important our work is,” Dana said, her mind having returned from the beyond to the present.

Actually, I hadn’t realized much, apart from the fact that ghosts seemed to enjoy my company all of a sudden, and that Dana had mastered some neat party trick creating the illusion she was invisible, but the girl seemed undone by the recent meeting with the dearly departed, so I bit my tongue and kept quiet.

“The FSA doesn’t proselytize, you know,” she continued, as I had expected she would. “Based on certain criteria, it very carefully selects its candidates and then enlists them. Tonight was your first test and I’m sorry to say that you failed.”

“I failed? How?” Even though I didn’t buy into Dana’s fantasy stories, I still felt rightfully offended.

“Like Zoe said; you had the chance to save her and you didn’t.”

I rolled my eyes at this one. “Well, if someone had told me what I was supposed to do, perhaps I would have done it, don’t you think?”

“That’s just the point: every single candidate enlisted before instinctively did the right thing even without anyone telling him, or her, what to do. You’re the first one to let the woman die.”

“Women have died before?” I said, confused.

Dana nodded emphatically. “Sure. Standard operating procedure. We stage a scene to see how the candidate will react and then monitor response time, physiological and psychological markers, emotional stress parameters, the works.”

“But that’s awful!” I said. “You’re murdering human beings just to see how some cat will respond? I find that just about the lowest thing I’ve ever heard. That’s just… horrible!”

Dana didn’t respond but merely beamed at me.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” I said, indignant.

Dana put a paw on my shoulder but I shrugged it off. “See, I knew you were going to say that,” she said, and grinned. “And that’s why you weren’t kicked out of the program. Even though you’re probably the weirdest candidate we’ve ever had, there’s something so… human… about you that simply begs for induction into the FSA.”

“I don’t want to be inducted into your rotten FSA,” I said with some vehemence. “I may not like all humans quite as much as I like Zack, but that doesn’t mean I condone sacrificing them for the purpose of that murderous club of yours! I think it’s disgusting, immoral, beyond contempt, and I plan to have a serious talk to whoever is in charge of this FSA. And I’ll have you know, I intend to stop this abomination and stop it now.”

To my surprise she let out a ringing guffaw at these brave words, possibly the bravest ones I’ve ever spoken. I was more than a little disconcerted.

“Bravo,” she said, as she clapped her paws, something I’d never seen any cat do before. “I think it’s time now to tell you all.”

“All?” I cried. “There’s more?”

“Oh, yes. A lot more.”

“
W
hat more can there be
?” I wailed. “Blood sacrifices under the light of the full moon? Gorging on human flesh? What?”

“First of all, we owe you an apology.”

“I’d say you do.”

“Because there never was a murder. No one died tonight.”

“Of course someone died,” I said. “Zoe Huckleberry. She came to say goodbye just now. You heard her.”

“Zoe Huckleberry doesn’t exist. She’s just a character in a play. And so is Jack Mackintosh.”

“Jack who?”

“The guy with the knife.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. She had completely lost me now.

“It’s like this. Every year in the springtime we select new candidates for the FSA. And one of the tests is what we like to call the murder scene. Now each year in springtime, the Brookridge Theatrical Society likes to perform an Agatha Christie type play—”

“The Mousetrap!” I said, for I’d heard about it being performed the previous year. Zack had almost secured a part for himself in it and I’d hoped he’d get it and bring home the mouse. Unfortunately, Fisk Grackle, the mayor’s secretary, had been selected to play Zack's part. Clear case of nepotism, Zack had said, for the mayor was chairman of the Theatrical Society.

“This year it’s Murder in the Park. They like to stage a different one each year. But that’s fine. Whatever the play, there’s bound to be a murder scene that needs to be rehearsed before opening night.”

“Of course.” I was starting to see what she was driving at.

“And when the weather is fine, the actors like to come to the park for their rehearsals.”

“Oh…” I said, for I now saw all. Again. “You mean…”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, that scene we witnessed together was part of the play.”

“But I saw…” I furrowed my red fluffy brow, for what had I actually seen? A man brandishing a knife, and when I next looked down, a woman was lying there, struck down. Or so it seemed. “I never saw the actual murder,” I said slowly.

“Go on,” said Dana, encouragingly.

“But what about the body floating in the pond? They couldn’t stage that, could they?”

“Did you see the body?”

“Brutus!” I said. “Brutus told me.” I eyed Dana with a measure of apprehension. “Don’t tell me Brutus is part of the FSA.”

“He isn’t,” Dana reassured me. “But as I started to tell you when you ran out on me before, we have the power to plant certain suggestions into people’s heads, and also other animals. That’s how Zack suddenly noticed the gas burner was still on, and that’s how Brutus thought he’d heard the story about the body in the pond and what made him so anxious to tell you all about it. Oh, and the voice of Zoe Huckleberry you heard just now?” She tapped her chest in a gesture of pride. “
Moi
.”

“But why?” I said. “Why the whole charade? Why go to all that trouble?”

“Because of you, Agent Tom.” Now it was my chest Dana tapped, or should I say punched, for she was surprisingly muscular for her size and build. Probably all lean muscle.

“Because of me?”

“All part of the test. What we want to establish first and foremost, is empathy. Does the candidate feel empathetic enough towards humans that he’d be willing to put his life on the line to save them? Well, since you more or less failed the first part of the test, we wanted to give you a second chance by introducing Zoe’s ‘ghost’ and see if she couldn’t get a little remorse out of you. You know, a little penitence. Unfortunately you failed us again.”

“Well, how was I to know she was for real?” I said defensively.

“I know,” she said. “We had unfortunately overestimated your, um, judgment somewhat. And I was just about to give up on you when all of a sudden you blew your top. And showed more empathy towards human beings than any candidate I’ve ever interviewed.”

“Well, it just isn’t right,” I said, all the old pique returning. “You can’t go around murdering humans.”

“Well, once again, for the record: we don’t. You understand that now, don’t you?”

“Sure,” I said, though I couldn’t suppress a twinge of doubt. First Zoe Huckleberry was murdered, then she wasn’t, and then she didn’t even exist. All very confusing, if you see what I mean.

“Good. The FSA mission statement clearly stipulates as its number one priority the saving of human lives. We do this consistently. We do this globally. And we’ve been doing this ever since the first human started walking on his hind legs.”

“Silly habit, that,” I said. Why walk on two legs when you can walk on four, I meant to say.

“So, what about it?”

I blinked. Was this another test? “What about what?”

“Are you in?”

“Oh, sure,” I said, though I had no idea what she was talking about. “In what exactly?”

“The FSA, of course. Do you accept it as your life’s mission to serve and protect human beings? To spy out their lives and see to it that no harm comes to them? In other words, do you feel up to it, Agent Tom?”

At these words I perked up considerably. Agent Tom. I had to admit it had a nice ring to it. Partnered with Agent Dana, Agent Tom embarks on the boldest missions, carries out the most exciting assignments, launches the most taxing operations and saves human lives left, right and center. Sure I felt up to it. Who wouldn’t? I thrust out my paw. “Agent Tom reporting for duty, Agent Dana.”

Dana tapped my paw and shook it once, vigorously. Quite brawny.

“It will be my pleasure to serve the human race,” I said, trying to strike the right note. Bold, yet sophisticated. Suave, yet humble. And always, of course, debonair. In other words, from now on my name was Tom. Agent Tom.

“Wonderful,” Dana said appreciatively, and it amazed me how different she seemed now from the rather vapid Dana I’d always known. Fantastic acting skills, no doubt about it. How much I could learn from her. Of course, being partners, I’d simply assimilate all of those skills through osmosis.

“So what happens now?” I said, all of a sudden quite anxious to start on the road to feline espionage.

“Now you meet your partner and start your training,” said Dana simply.

“Great!” I said, and suddenly perceived our duo had turned into a trio. A big, white-haired Raggamuffin with reddish whiskers came waddling towards us, precariously teetering on the branch and looking very uncomfortable as he kept darting glances at the ground below.

“Stevie!” I cried, for I had instantly recognized that notorious mouse thief. “What are you doing here?”

“Why do you guys always have to climb trees?” he complained. “Why can’t you just stay with your four paws on the ground like normal cats?”

“Normal cats like climbing trees, Stevie,” said Dana, giving him a sniff.

“Look, Stevie,” I said, liking none of this sniffing business, “we’re in the middle of a very important meeting here. So buzz off, will you?”

“Buzz off?” he whined, now hugging the branch with all claws extended and pressing his head flat against the bark. “But I just got here.”

“And now you’re going again,” I pointed out.

“Not a chance. I’m not turning back if my life depended on it. The only way I’m getting out of this tree is firmly in the grip of some burly, highly capable fireman. So, Dana, just tell me why you asked me to meet you here and then I’ll start mewling for the cavalry, all right? Do you think those guys work nights? But of course they do. Fires don’t keep regular hours, do they? Ha, ha. How silly of me.”

I was appalled. “Asked him?” I said incredulously. “You asked him?”

Dana gave me a curt nod. “Agent Tom, meet Agent Stevie. He will be your partner.”

“My what?” I cried.

Stevie glanced up at me apologetically. “Don’t look at me, buddy. It wasn’t my idea. I told her you wouldn’t like it, but she wouldn’t listen. Still sore about that mouse I pinched, are you? Boy, you certainly know how to hold a grudge. Let bygones be bygones, is what I always say. Say, what do you like best? Agent Stevie or Agent Steve? Personally I think I’ll go with Steve. Sounds more butch, doesn’t it? Like a real spy?”

I merely heaved a hollow groan in response. Little did I know that right then and there, one of the great partnerships in feline history had begun. All I could think was that I had just gotten myself into another nice mess. And Dana? She merely smiled.