The Clan of the Scorpion Read online

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  For Matthew and Christopher Jones

  ~ G P J

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Teaser

  Questions for the Author

  Read all the Ninja Meerkats Adventures!

  Copyright

  There is an old meerkat proverb that goes:

  Only the fattest pelican will wink at the unsuspecting turtle.

  But, of course, we are neither pelicans nor are we turtles. We are meerkats. And what would meerkats want with being winked at? It is not something we care for. Like a blunt pencil, we simply can’t see the point of it.

  But I should not be wasting your time with a saying that has nothing to do with anything. Instead, I should be introducing you to …

  The Clan of the Scorpion: four mighty warriors as strong and powerful as any ninja, all ready to risk their lives to save the world from our deadly enemy, the Ringmaster, a shadowy figure who runs an evil circus of goons and seeks to bring the world to its knees.

  Jet Flashfeet: a superfast ninja whose only fault is craving the glory he so richly deserves.

  Bruce “the muscle” Willowhammer: the strongest of the gang, though in the brain race, he lags somewhat behind.

  Donnie Dragonjab: a brilliant mind, inventor, and master of gadgets.

  Chuck Cobracrusher: his clear leadership has saved the others’ skins more times than I care to remember.

  Oh, and me, Grandmaster One-Eye: as old and wise as the sand dunes themselves.

  There is not much else to tell you about this adventure except that I never did see my sink plunger again.

  I will leave you with a poem by the ancient meerkat poet, Turner Frase.

  When the wind blows west

  The wind blows best.

  When the wind blows south

  Sand gets in your mouth

  And in your ears

  And your belly button.

  Enough wisdom now. Sit back and enjoy the story of …

  THE CLAN OF THE SCORPION.

  From the outside, the Clan of the Scorpion’s secret base looked like one of a number of meerkat burrows in the Red Desert. But while some of the neighboring meerkats had welcomed wildlife documentary makers into their homes, the Clan had to be more careful about who they let in.

  You see, film crews do not expect to find a central chamber filled with fighting staffs, swords, throwing stars, nunchucks, and a whole range of other gadgets at the heart of a meerkat burrow.

  So the Clan kept nosy filmmakers at arm’s length for fear of their true identity being revealed.… Actually, further than that, as a meerkat’s arm is hardly very long at all.

  Jet Flashfeet had just entered the central chamber. He had his trusty nunchucks in a specially designed holster, and was carrying a book under his arm called, 101 More Martial Arts Moves by Kara T. Kick. “Hey, who wants to try out this new move I just read about?”

  “Not me. I’m busy with this,” replied Donnie Dragonjab, tapping away on a touchscreen phone he had recently acquired from a careless documentary maker.

  Bruce Willowhammer looked up from the middle of the chamber, where he was doing one-armed push-ups. “What is that, Donnie?” he asked.

  “It’s a Bluetooth, WAP-enabled mobile device,” replied Donnie.

  Bruce stopped mid push-up and stared at him blankly.

  “It’s a phone,” explained Donnie.

  “We’ve already got phones,” said Bruce. With his free arm he pulled out the mini cell phone that Donnie had made for each Clan member so that they could keep in contact during missions.

  “You’ll be able to throw away that old thing once I’ve figured out how to reduce this down to a more usable size,” said Donnie. “This can surf the Internet and give us up-to-date news from around the world with a simple click of a button. It’s going to completely revolutionize the way we work.”

  Jet rolled his eyes impatiently. “Sounds great. Now, Bruce, will you try this new move with me?”

  “All right, but can I have a snack first? I’m starving.”

  “You’re always starving. Can’t you wait? The helicopter leap will only take a minute,” replied Jet.

  “The what?” said Bruce.

  “The helicopter leap. We link paws and spin around, then I count to three and we jump together and—Ninja-boom!—we fly up into the air like a helicopter.”

  “Why would we want to do that?”

  “Because it’s cool and it might come in handy.”

  “That’s good enough for me. Let’s do it,” said Bruce.

  “I have to see this.” Donnie swiveled around to watch.

  Jet and Bruce moved to the middle of the room. They stood on their hind legs, looked from side to side, then bowed to each other in the usual manner. They held paws, leaned back, and began to move slowly around in a circle.

  “Shall I put some music on?” said Donnie, sniggering at the sight of stocky, muscular Bruce apparently dancing with nimble, lean Jet.

  Jet ignored him. “Faster now,” he said. “And try not to step on my feet.”

  “Sorry,” Bruce mumbled.

  They sped up, moving faster and faster until Jet yelled, “Jump!”

  For a moment it looked like it was going to work. The two meerkats lifted off the ground, spinning in midair, but suddenly they whirled out of control, whizzing across the floor and knocking over a pile of weapons and tools in the process.

  “Whooahhh!” cried Bruce.

  “If that’s what a helicopter is like, I think I’ll stick to planes,” said Donnie, laughing, as Bruce and Jet came to a halt in a confused heap by the entrance to the chamber.

  Just then, Chuck Cobracrusher, the fourth member and leader of the Clan, appeared.

  “The helicopter leap requires much practice,” he said, stepping over Jet and Bruce. “Few achieve it on their first try.”

  “It was his fault. He’s too heavy,” said Jet, springing to his feet. He pulled out a comb and straightened the fur on top of his head.

  “No, Jet, that is not the problem. You are too hasty. Given time you will master this move,” said Chuck. “Another new gadget, Donnie?”

  “It’s a blue-toothed whack-a-table phone,” said Bruce, butting in.

  “A Bluetooth, WAP-enabled phone,” corrected Donnie. “It’s amazing. I’m surfing the Net right now.”

  “Technology is no substitute for the traditional ninja ways, but it can be useful,” Chuck admitted. He brushed his fur back from his face, revealing the cross-shaped scar below his eye. He had never told the others how he had come by the scar; all they knew was that it had been inflicted by their deadly enemy, the Ringmaster, many years ago. “Perhaps you can look up something for me, Donnie,” said Chuck. “A tiger has gone missing from the Hong Kong Zoo.”

  Donnie typed a few words into a search engine and found a news article.

  “Here it is. It says that Ming, a rare speckled-white tigress, went missing last night from the zoo and that the police have no leads as to who may have taken her. How did you know about this, Chuck?”


  “My brother, Throw, lives at the zoo and he has been keeping an eye on Ming for me. He called just now to give me the news.”

  “Your brother lives in a zoo?” said Bruce.

  “Throw was never one for life in the wild. He prefers the conveniences of zoo life,” replied Chuck. “He would have called earlier, but he had to wait until the zoo closed to use the pay phone. Ming’s disappearance is of great significance.”

  “A missing cat?” Jet shrugged. “Surely they’ll just stick a sign on a tree like everyone else?”

  Chuck shook his head. “Ming is no ordinary tiger. She once belonged to my old samurai master, Luhk Hu Stalking. She was trained by Master Stalking and is the only living tiger capable of…” he paused, then said dramatically, “… the Roar of Victory.”

  “Is that what you’d use to win a rowboat race?” smirked Donnie.

  “Roar, not oar,” replied Chuck. “Whoever hears it is instantly put into a trance and must do the bidding of the next voice he or she hears. Master Stalking was wise and only ever used it in extreme cases and always for good. Since he died, Ming has lived safely in the zoo, her power kept a secret. But it seems that someone has discovered her past. And I can think of at least one person who would want to get his hands on her.”

  “The Ringmaster,” said Jet.

  Chuck nodded. “Our deadly enemy certainly has a fascination for things with great power.”

  “If he is behind this then we have no time to lose,” said Jet.

  “This time your haste is well placed,” said Chuck. “I shudder to think of the damage he could do with such power. We must travel to Hong Kong at once. I will inform Grandmaster One-Eye of our departure.”

  The four meerkats bowed to one another, then leaped into action. Another death-defying mission was about to begin.

  Ten minutes later, four meerkat heads appeared aboveground, each cautiously checking that the coast was clear. As the Clan slipped out of their burrow, a fifth head appeared.

  “Ah, Chuck said you were off on an adventure,” said Grandmaster One-Eye. “Would you like to know what the ancient philosopher, Paul the Other One, said about tigers?”

  Donnie, Jet, and Bruce sighed. They had heard much of the Grandmaster’s so-called wisdom before, but Chuck, who had more respect for the old meerkat, asked, “What did he say, Grandmaster?”

  “He asked the question, why do lions and tigers make such good shopkeepers? Because they always do a roaring trade.” Grandmaster One-Eye snorted at his own joke. “Do not underestimate the power of laughter on a mission such as this.”

  “Wise words, Grandmaster.” Chuck bowed and turned to the others. “Time to go,” he said.

  “I don’t get it,” said Bruce.

  “I’ll explain it on the way,” said Jet. “So, how are we getting to Hong Kong, Chuck?”

  “By plane. Which means we need to get to the airport. Donnie, have you repaired the Meer-kart?”

  “Mostly,” Donnie replied. He ducked behind a rock and pulled out what was little more than a large plank of wood and two sets of rickety wheels. Lying on top was a huge scruffy brown suitcase, which made the kart sag in the middle.

  “What’s that?” asked Jet.

  “That’s my luggage,” replied Donnie.

  “Why do you always pack so much?” asked Bruce. “All I’ve brought are a few bags of deep-fried lizard tails for the journey.”

  “This suitcase is for more important things than snacks,” said Donnie. “Wait till you see my new disguise.”

  “Right,” said Chuck, taking charge. “Bruce and Jet, you push first, and Donnie and I will steer.”

  “You always say that,” moaned Bruce, “and we never get to swap.”

  Chuck ignored him and climbed on in front of Donnie.

  Jet and Bruce stood on their hind legs and held on to the back of the kart.

  “Let’s go,” shouted Chuck.

  Jet and Bruce began to run, pushing the Meer-kart up a sand dune. At the top they jumped onboard and the kart hurtled down the other side, creating great clouds of sand behind them. They continued in this way through the desert, until finally the airport came into view.

  “Go slow now. We want this thing to last,” shouted Chuck.

  “What did he say?” yelled Jet, who was struggling to hear over the sound of the rattling wheels.

  “I think he said, ‘Don’t slow down. We want this thing to go fast,’” replied Bruce, as they powered the kart up the last dune.

  “OK,” said Jet. “Push!”

  Bruce and Jet ran as fast as they could, then leaped aboard.

  “I said slow down,” yelled Chuck, as the Meer-kart hurtled toward the wire fence surrounding the airport. “Donnie, use the brakes.”

  “You know how I said I mostly repaired it?” shouted Donnie.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that was the bit I didn’t fix.”

  “We’ve got no brakes?” cried Chuck. “Clan of the Scorpion, abandon Meer-kart!”

  All four meerkats leaped off. Jet did a spectacular somersault and a perfect landing. Bruce thudded to the ground with such force that he made a huge hole in the sand. Donnie used the suitcase to cushion his fall, and Chuck landed in an expert roll. They all shot up onto their hind legs and turned to watch as the kart crashed into the fence, splintering into pieces.

  “Don’t worry,” said Donnie. “I’ll fix it when we get back.”

  “Yes and perhaps next time, Donnie, remember to fix the brakes,” replied Chuck.

  * * *

  If you have ever boarded a plane you may have noticed a distinct lack of meerkats running around the airport. And the Clan’s nearest airport was no exception, because instead of four meerkats slipping through the automatic door, a scruffy brown suitcase entered. It moved closely behind a smart-looking businessman, leading all to assume he was pulling it along with his other bag. No one noticed the four pairs of feet that scuttled along underneath, nor the tiny eyeholes in the side of the case.

  Chuck looked up at the Departures board. “There’s a flight to Hong Kong leaving in three hours. Check-in is right here.”

  The suitcase peeled away from the businessman and joined the check-in line for the Hong Kong flight. Slowly, it shuffled along with the other cases, unnoticed by the old lady in front.

  “So far so good,” said Chuck. “Now we need to distract this passenger so that we can check in as one of her bags. Any ideas?”

  “Leave it to me,” said Jet, slipping out from under the suitcase.

  “Jet, wait!” cried Chuck.

  But Jet had already scuttled up the side of the suitcases in front, to where he could see the old lady’s passport sticking out of her coat pocket. He picked it up in his teeth, darted around, and dropped it into her other pocket, then returned to the case.

  “See, no problem,” said Jet.

  “You could have been seen,” said Chuck. “You must learn to think before you act.”

  The man at the desk looked up. “Next.”

  The old lady reached to get her passport and was surprised to find her pocket empty.

  “That’s odd. I’m sure I put it in there.” As she checked her other pockets, the scruffy brown suitcase jumped onto the scale beside the desk. “Ah, here it is,” she said. She gave it to the man and placed her luggage on the scale.

  “Is this everything?” asked the man.

  “Yes, that’s all.”

  The man labeled the bags and handed the old lady her boarding pass. As the luggage moved off on the conveyer belt, she had no idea that she had just checked in a suitcase full of meerkats.

  The Clan was on its way.

  It was a hot, sticky evening in Hong Kong, and, as the plane landed, the sun was just disappearing behind the skyscrapers that filled the city. On one side of the plane the passengers walked down a flight of stairs. On the other, the baggage handlers unloaded the suitcases onto a cart. No one noticed one of the cases rattle itself off the cart and make its way to the
side of the runway.

  “What now?” asked Bruce.

  “My brother is meeting us on the east side of the car parking lot,” said Chuck.

  “Let’s go, then,” said Jet, slipping out from under the case.

  “Get back inside,” ordered Chuck. “We must remain under cover. If any one of us is seen we could endanger the entire mission.”

  “But it’s so hot in here,” Jet grumbled, sliding back underneath. “And it stinks of fried lizard tails, thanks to Bruce.”

  “As my mom always says, there’s no such thing as a bad food smell,” said Bruce.

  “Having smelled your mom’s cricket stew, I’d have to disagree,” replied Donnie.

  They made their way to the parking lot, and peered through the eyeholes.

  “Where is he, then?” asked Jet.

  “Perhaps he has lost his way,” said Chuck. “It’s getting dark and this is his first time out of the zoo. Jet and Bruce, you stay hidden here in case he turns up. Donnie and I will take the suitcase and go and look for him. And remember, if our hunch is right and the Ringmaster has something to do with Ming’s disappearance, he and his henchmen may well be expecting us … and they won’t be throwing us a welcome party…”

  “So we just sit around and do nothing?” grumbled Jet.

  “Jet, like a pop singer considering a new career, you need to learn that sometimes it is better not to act,” said Chuck. “No more impetuous behavior.”

  Chuck and Donnie headed off inside the case.

  “What does ‘impetuous’ mean?” asked Bruce.

  “It means I’m ready to spring into action,” said Jet. “Which is what I’m going to do now. Come on, let’s go and look for Throw so we can get on with our mission.”

  “But Chuck said we had to stay here,” said Bruce. “And he is the leader.”

  “What are you, a mouse or a meerkat?” said Jet, scurrying off through the grass. “It won’t do any harm. It’s not like we’ll get seen. Come on!”