Hollywood Showdown Read online

  “On my count, jump,” said Donnie. “One, two, three … NOW!”

  “Wait!” Jet cried. “The poodle disguise! It’s still under the treeeee…”

  But it was too late. The elastic flung them into the sky and over the wall. The pair landed inside the grounds of RADA behind a hedge.

  They could hear barking coming from a row of kennels alongside the mansion.

  “Dogs are crazy, always making so much noise,” said Jet.

  “You mean, they’re barking mad,” replied Donnie. “Right, time to look around. We’ll use the dog disguise.”

  “You mean the dog disguise that we just left behind the tree on the other side of that wall?” asked Jet.

  “Ah. Yes. What else have I got in here…” Donnie opened his bag and rooted around inside. “We’ll have to use the cat disguise.”

  “What?” Jet exclaimed. “Dress up as a cat in a place full of dogs? Isn’t that like going to a lion convention dressed as a zebra?”

  “Better that than risk Doris recognizing us,” said Donnie, pulling a fluffy white cat costume from his bag. “Besides, these are acting dogs, they probably have to work with cats all the time.”

  Reluctantly, Jet slipped into the back half of the cat, and Donnie climbed into the front.

  They rounded the hedge and were about to investigate when Donnie came to a halt. “Hang on,” he said, “the gate’s opening.”

  They watched as a line of five black Cadillac limousines pulled up. The cars came to a halt in front of the main house, and a dozen men in suits stepped out. They were all wearing sunglasses and discreet earpieces, and Donnie caught a glimpse of a gun holster at one man’s hip.

  “What’s going on?” asked Jet. “I can’t see anything back here.”

  “Security men,” said Donnie. “There must be someone important in one of those limos.” He paused for a moment. “Yes, a tall, smartly dressed man has just climbed out of the middle car. He’s carrying a little brown sausage dog.”

  “What’s happening now?” asked Jet.

  “Honor Longlead is coming out to greet the man. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re going inside. Let’s take a closer look.”

  Donnie and Jet padded toward the main building as casually as they could manage, considering they were dressed as a cat and there were armed security men everywhere they looked. They slipped down the side of the building and jumped up onto a window ledge. Peering inside, they saw the tall man from the car deep in conversation with Honor Longlead. The sausage dog was on the floor, and next to it was Doris the Dancing Dog.

  “It’s so kind of you to give Chip this acting lesson, Miss Longlead,” said the man.

  “Please call me Honor. And it’s no problem at all, Mr. P—”

  The man interrupted her. “I’d much rather you call me Jim. Chip’s awfully nervous, this being his first film role. If I’m honest, I’m a bit nervous myself, getting to meet Vin Pain. When the director contacted me and offered Chip this role, I couldn’t believe my luck. I’m Vin’s biggest fan!”

  Honor Longlead smiled. “I imagine he’s more nervous about meeting you.”

  At that moment, Jet felt a tug on the tail of the cat costume. “What the—” he started, but before he could say another word, he and Donnie were hauled off the ledge and thrown to the ground.

  “Well, howdy,” a voice drawled. “You’re a funny-looking dog.”

  Standing over them was a huge Doberman. Globules of spit hung from his sharp teeth as he flashed them a sinister grin.

  “I was just patrolling these grounds,” the dog continued, “you know, keeping everything nice and secure, when I saw you standing there on the ledge. And I thought to myself, ‘Bud,’ I thought, ‘that is a funny-looking dog. So funny, I’d say it looks more like a cat. And if that’s a cat,’ I thought, ‘I’d be authorized to use force to get it off these premises, what with me being responsible for security here.’”

  “We’re not a cat,” said Jet as he and Donnie clambered to their feet inside the costume.

  “We?”

  “He means ‘I’,” said Donnie. “I mean ‘I’. I’m not a cat. I’m a dog.”

  Bud looked confused. “A dog? What breed of dog-gone dog would you be then?”

  “I’m a … long-tailed Egyptian spaniel,” said Donnie, hoping that if such a dog did exist, Bud had never seen one.

  “Very rare,” added Jet.

  “Really? Well, there is one way to make sure you’re telling the truth,” said Bud. “If I take a bite, I can see whether you taste of cat. I sure like the taste of cat.”

  “Now now, there’s no need for that…” said Donnie, backing away.

  “Just a small bite for starters,” said Bud. As he lunged and sank his teeth into the middle of the cat costume, Donnie and Jet leaped out of it to avoid the razor-sharp teeth.

  There was a ripping sound, and when Bud looked up, there were two meerkats standing before him. Beside them on the ground lay two halves of the empty cat costume.

  “What are you?” Bud asked with a snarl.

  “We’re ninja meerkats,” said Donnie proudly.

  “Did you say cats?”

  “No, meerkats,” said Jet, drawing his nunchucks.

  “Sounds to me like you’re saying me a cat. Well, me a dog and so are my boys. Here, boys!” Bud barked.

  Nine more drooling Dobermans stepped out from behind the bushes.

  “What d’you reckon, Jet?” said Donnie.

  “I think it’s time for some ninja action,” replied Jet.

  The dogs snarled and charged at them. With perfect timing, Jet shot into the air, causing two of the dogs to smash into the wall behind him, then sent another reeling with a THWACK from his nunchucks. “Now for my new move,” he announced. “The Super Looping Somersault Leap.”

  Using one of the Doberman’s heads as a springboard, Jet shot into the air and performed a spectacular quadruple somersault. Unfortunately, however, he landed directly back where he had started … except now his hind feet were keeping the dog’s jaws open. One false move and he’d be facing a slobbery end.

  “Oops,” said Jet. “That wasn’t quite what was supposed to happen. Can you lend us a paw, Donnie?”

  “Hey, Dopey Doberman, if you fancy a snack, try this,” cried Donnie, reaching into his bag and pulling out a large bone. Jet dived out of the way as the dog jumped up and snatched the bone between its teeth.

  Donnie grinned. “Ha! That’s coated in super-fast drying glue. And it looks like it’s worked already.”

  The dog growled angrily, but its teeth were stuck fast.

  “Watch out!” yelled Jet, spotting another Doberman racing toward Donnie. Jet jumped to his feet and landed an almighty roundhouse kick on the dog’s left cheek, sending him sprawling.

  “Ninja-boom!” he cried.

  But now the meerkats had a new problem—the fight had attracted the attention of the security men, who were running over from inside the mansion.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” said Donnie.

  “Well, we won’t get far unless we lose these dogs first,” Jet said, knocking another Doberman off his feet with a leg sweep.

  Donnie reached into his bag and pulled out a crossbow and a second sticky bone.

  “I call this my cross-bone,” he explained.

  “Get a move on, will you?” Jet cried.

  “All right, all right.” Donnie loaded the weapon, then whistled loudly. “Hey, you mangy mutts! It’s dinnertime!”

  He squeezed the trigger, and the remaining four Dobermans sprinted after the flying bone.

  “Great! Now, you got another fancy gadget to get us back over that wall?” asked Jet.

  “Nope—for that we use our natural ability.” He held up his paws and flexed his claws. “We burrow.”

  The meerkats turned and sprinted back to the wall. Within seconds, they’d dug down under it and disappeared, leaving the confused security men and Dobermans in a cloud of dust.


  Meanwhile, in another part of the city, the large black limousine carrying Vin Pain and the Ringmaster glided down a wide street. Bruce and Chuck scrambled up the back window and onto the roof, moving quickly to avoid being spotted.

  “This is amazing,” Bruce whispered. “I can’t believe we’re so close to Vin Pain!”

  “Do not forget that the car also contains the Ringmaster,” replied Chuck.

  They peeked through the sunroof. It was impossible to hear what was being said, but Vin was holding a document in his hands with the words “EVIL PLOTS” written on it in large black letters. Something else was written underneath, but it was obscured by his huge thumbs.

  “Do you think I can get Vin’s autograph later?” asked Bruce.

  “Bruce, your hero is sitting next to our deadliest enemy, reading a document entitled ‘Evil Plots’,” said Chuck. “It may well be that Vin Pain is in league with the Ringmaster.”

  “No way,” said Bruce. “He’s probably just undercover like he was in that film, Undercover Good Guy. Vin says he’ll only ever play good guys because he knows he’s a role model to millions.”

  “The words of celebrities are like boiled eggs,” said Chuck, “best taken with a pinch of salt.”

  The car turned into the parking lot of a fancy-looking restaurant and drew to a halt. Chuck and Bruce slipped down to the ground, and hid behind one of the wheels as the Ringmaster and Vin stepped out.

  “… It’s a great idea. It’ll really get people talking,” Vin was saying.

  “Oh yes, this will certainly get everyone talking,” the Ringmaster replied.

  “Should we follow them?” asked Bruce.

  Chuck shook his head. “Too risky. But I think they left the document in the car. Can you open the sunroof?”

  “No problem,” said Bruce.

  “Remember, the driver’s still inside,” Chuck pointed out. “We must be as silent as mute mice playing charades in a library.”

  They scurried back up to the roof and Bruce wedged his claws under the edge of the sunroof and forced it open. Chuck dropped down inside, while Bruce remained where he was, holding the sunroof.

  “Good work, Bruce. I will only be a minute,” Chuck whispered. He picked up the document, which was lying facedown on the seat, and flipped it over.

  EVIL PLOTS & GOOD DOGS

  He opened it to the first page.

  ACT ONE: SCENE ONE

  Interior of a circus tent.

  “It appears to be a script,” said Chuck.

  “It must be Vin’s new film,” exclaimed Bruce excitedly. He dropped down into the car to take a look.

  The sunroof slid shut.

  “Oops,” said Bruce.

  Suddenly, the limo lurched forward and both meerkats lost their balance as it sped out of the parking lot and away down the street. Chuck rattled the door handle. It was locked. “Try the windows,” he ordered.

  In an attempt to shatter one of the windows, Bruce threw himself against the glass, but bounced off like a furry rubber ball.

  “Ow!” he said, rubbing his shoulder.

  “Hey uh, Grimsby, the meerkat’s hurt himself on the window,” said a familiar voice.

  “That’ll be what they call window pain,” replied another, chuckling.

  A TV screen set into the panel dividing the back of the limo from the front seat flickered to life, showing the Ringmaster’s two evil clown henchmen, Grimsby and Sheffield. Grimsby was driving, while Sheffield sat beside him.

  The limousine swerved violently to the right, throwing the meerkats against the left-hand door.

  “Your driving is even worse than your jokes,” said Chuck.

  “We thought you might come along to crash the party at some point,” said Grimsby. “And here you are!”

  “It’s a good thing this car alerts us when the sunroof’s been opened,” said Sheffield. “And it’s a good job that there’s no way out, now that we’ve locked the doors.”

  “The Ringmaster was fuming when you survived his snow bomb at Ice Mountain,” Grimsby added. “He’ll be so pleased to hear that we ran into you now, before his plan really kicks into gear.” With that, he swung the limo around another sharp corner, flinging the meerkats to the other side of the car.

  “What is the Ringmaster plotting this time?” demanded Chuck. “And what’s the meaning of this film script?”

  “It’s going to be a smash hit, that one,” said Grimsby. “Speaking of which…”

  The limo came to a sudden halt. Chuck and Bruce grabbed hold of the door handles to avoid flying forward.

  “It’s time for your crushing defeat,” said Sheffield.

  The screen went blank and the meerkats could hear the clowns’ laughter as they got out of the limo. Bruce climbed up onto the seat and looked through the window. “I think we’re in some kind of scrapyard,” he said. They were surrounded by beaten-up old cars, stacked like building blocks.

  Chuck joined him at the window. “We must find a way out,” he said.

  There was a loud CLUNK from above, and the limo jolted, knocking the meerkats over again. This was followed by a rocking motion, as the limo was lifted into the air.

  The meerkats scrambled to their feet.

  “We’re flying!” exclaimed Bruce.

  “No, we’re being lifted,” said Chuck.

  The limo swung around, allowing them to see that they were moving toward a large steel machine that was crushing cars into cubes.

  Chuck pulled out his phone and switched it to loudspeaker. “I’m calling Donnie. He knows all about this car. Perhaps he can tell us how to get out.”

  Donnie answered the phone on the second ring. “Hi, Chuck. What’s up?”

  “Donnie, we’re trapped inside the back of the limo and are about to be crushed. How can we get out?” said Chuck urgently.

  “Ah. I hate to say it, but there’s no way out of that thing,” said Donnie. “It’s got bulletproof glass and a reinforced body—that car is like a prison on wheels.”

  “There must be something we can do,” Chuck replied, as the limo swung closer to the huge crushing-machine.

  “Well, it is an electric vehicle,” Donnie conceded. “I suppose if you were to short-circuit the electricity, that might unlock all the doors.”

  “How would we do that?” asked Chuck.

  “You’d need to pour water down the back of the seat. The car’s circuit board should be housed there.”

  Bruce opened the refrigerator compartment and pulled out a bottle of mineral water.

  “Got some!” he said.

  “Pour it down the back of the seat—quick!” shouted Chuck.

  Bruce followed orders, and emptied the contents of the bottle.

  The sound of glass shattering and metal being crushed was deafening. The limo was now dangling directly over the huge jaws of the machine. In seconds, the car and everything in it would be squashed into a small metal cube.

  “What now?” Bruce roared.

  “Try the doors!” Chuck shouted back.

  Bruce rattled the handle.

  “It’s not working!” cried Chuck.

  “It might take a couple of minutes to work,” said Donnie.

  “We don’t have—”

  The end of Chuck’s sentence was cut off by a click, thump, CRUNCH!

  “Chuck! Bruce? What’s happening?” Donnie shouted on the other end of the phone. But no one answered.

  What Donnie didn’t know was that with seconds to spare, the car door had unlocked, and Chuck and Bruce had leaped to safety. Chuck had grabbed the film script, but dropped his phone in the process, leaving it to be crushed inside the limousine.

  “Now, where are those clowns?” Bruce growled, dusting himself off. “I’ll teach them to mess with us.”

  “I’m afraid that lesson may have to wait. Look,” said Chuck, nodding at the exit to the scrapyard just as the clowns zoomed through it on a motorbike.

  “Should we go after them?” asked Bruce.

/>   “No, if they think we’ve been crushed, we will have the element of surprise on our side next time we meet,” said Chuck. “Now we must let Donnie and Jet know that we’re OK, and tell them what we’ve found out. Bruce, have you got your phone?”

  “No, mine stopped working after I broke an egg on it.”

  Chuck frowned. “Why would you break an egg on your phone?”

  “Because I thought Donnie said you could fry on it, but it turned out he said you could get Wi-Fi on it,” Bruce explained. “And that doesn’t involve eggs, apparently. Ooh, I could eat a plate of eggs right now…”

  “We must find a way to contact the others,” said Chuck. “Follow me.”

  They hurried over to a shack at the center of the scrapyard. The meerkats slipped through the open door and hid behind a wastepaper basket, unnoticed by the two men inside.

  One was leaning back in his chair, scratching his belly and watching television, while the second man stood over him, shouting.

  “Tony, who told you to put that limo through the crusher?”

  “Those two clowns, boss.”

  “What? The clowns who just stole my motorbike?”

  “Yeah, them,” Tony yawned. “They paid in cash and said it was urgent.”

  His boss rolled his eyes, exasperated. “A couple of guys you’ve never met turn up in disguise and ask you to crush a car, and that didn’t strike you as suspicious?”

  “They weren’t in disguise, boss. They’re clowns.”

  “You’re the clown,” said the other man. “Now come on, we’ve got to get after those thieves! I’ll call the cops from the car.”

  Tony reluctantly got up and followed his boss out.

  Chuck and Bruce scrambled out from behind the wastepaper basket and jumped up onto the desk. Chuck picked up the phone and dialled Donnie’s number.

  “Chuck! Are you OK?” asked Donnie.

  “Yes, thanks to you,” Chuck replied. “What did you learn at RADA?”

  “Well, there was a man there with a lot of security and a sausage dog called Chip that also seems to be in this film with Vin and Doris,” said Jet.