Rogue Llama, page 1
About the Book
LEAGUE OF LLAMAS secret agent Phillipe Llamar is on the run!
Determined to clear his name after being framed for a crime he didn’t commit, Phillipe dons a disguise and goes on the hunt for the true criminal – one Ratrick Tailbiter. But the more Phillipe investigates, the less the case makes sense and the more things start becoming suspiciously . . . smelly.
From Ratopia to Catagonia, Phillipe’s journey leads him far from home. Will he be able to solve this mystery alone? Hunted by friends and enemies alike, this is Agent 0011’s most daring adventure yet!
You can’t escape the LOL
Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
About the Author
Read the League of Llamas series
Imprint
Read more at Penguin Books Australia
Mama Llama, head of LOL, sat at her desk, hooves steepled before her and a ferocious look on her face. ‘Agent 0011, would you like to explain how today’s Ocean World debacle came about?’
Phillipe Llamar hung his head. ‘I tried my best. Really I did.’
LOL – aka the League of Llamas – was an agency of elite llama spies. Just this morning, Phillipe had been hot on the tail of stinky-bottomed troublemaker General Ignatius Bottomburp, after the odious badger had once again stolen secret plans from a military facility. The dastardly thief was responsible for multiple espionage activities against the Llama Republic and was at the top of LOL’s Naughtiest Animals list. He was also at the top of LOL’s Stinkiest Animals list and was current holder of their Champion Parper Award.
When the badger’s theft had caused pandemonium at the military compound, LOL had been called into action. It had been up to Phillipe and Lloyd to recover the precious plans and capture Bottomburp so he could be brought to justice. But the chase had turned into a spectacular failure at the Ocean World theme park. Phillipe had endangered the lives of several otters playing on the waterslides and a famous orca-in-residence, who’d been wooing the crowds with majestic backflips until the secret agent had cartwheeled from a great height into his pool.
As a result of Phillipe’s questionable tactics, Bottomburp had escaped and the LOL agent was now feeling the full force of his boss’s anger. ‘It seems your best isn’t good enough.’ Mama Llama snorted, jumping up to pace the floor. ‘You bungled the mission and made LOL a laughing-stock. That poor, innocent killer whale got the shock of his life when you landed in his pool. You ruined his entire routine!’
Lloyd, who was on the couch sipping a can of llamanade, held his front hoof up. ‘If I may, in Phillipe’s def–’
Mama Llama turned on Lloyd. ‘Agent 0013, you may not. Your antics in that gyrocopter weren’t much better. How on earth did you end up upside-down in a tree?’
Lloyd tucked his chin in. ‘Forget I said anything.’
‘I will.’ Mama Llama turned to continue grilling Phillipe. ‘What you did was beyond the realms of what any intelligence – or intelligent – agent would do. It was reckless and irresponsible. I have a good mind to suspend you.’
At this comment, Elloise, who was also on the couch, finally spoke up. ‘Don’t punish Phillipe. He’s a good agent who made an error in judgement.’
Phillipe’s heart skipped a beat. His relationship with Agent 0077 had stalled lately, mostly due to the fact that Mama Llama disapproved of their match, but now Elloise was sticking up for him! If he hadn’t been in such a tricky situation, he would have been elated. But Mama Llama’s dressing-down had made Phillipe miserable. This was the lowest moment in his career.
Mama Llama glared at her daughter. ‘I don’t know why you’re defending him,’ she bleated. ‘You said yourself that these two are out of control.’
She’s been talking about me, Phillipe thought excitedly.
Elloise wiggled her ears irritably. ‘That was meant to stay between us.’
‘You’re lucky I’m so understanding, Agent 0011,’ Mama Llama grunted at Phillipe. ‘I’ll refrain from suspending you for now, but this is your last warning. Any more boo-boos and you’re gone.’ Lloyd stifled a giggle. ‘Did you say “boo-boo”?’
Mama Llama sniffed, clearly unamused. ‘Dis-missed,’ she roared.
Phillipe dragged Lloyd to his hooves, possibly saving his life. ‘Keep your head down and don’t make eye contact,’ he whispered to his secret agent pal.
Mama Llama was known for her kicking, biting and spitting prowess, and the look on her face told Phillipe they had a millisecond to escape before she showed them why.
As the three operatives scurried out of the room, Phillipe’s watch-phone rang. He stepped aside to take the call while Elloise and Lloyd carried on without him.
‘Hello?’
‘Is this Mr B?’ a squeaky voice asked.
‘No.’
‘Is it Mr U?’
‘Nope.’
‘What about Mr M?’
‘Not him either,’ Phillipe replied, annoyed.
‘Why don’t you just tell me who it is?’
‘This is Phillipe Llamar. You called me, remember? Who’s this?’
‘I can’t say over the phone,’ the caller said, ‘but I do have important information on Bottomburp’s whereabouts. I hear that’s something you’d be interested in.’
Phillipe’s skin prickled. He desperately wanted – needed – to find Bottomburp. He hated it when Mama Llama was mad at him.
‘If you’ve had enough of that troublesome stinkmeister, meet me at midnight at the Eyeful of Llama Tower,’ the caller said. ‘And come alone.’
Several hours later, Phillipe was on the move and dressed in sunglasses and a trench coat, with a fedora hat pulled down over his face. After the Ocean World disaster, he couldn’t risk being spotted. The entire event had been plastered across the news and social media, making the so-called secret agent’s face instantly recognisable.
He arrived at the Eyeful of Llama Tower just before midnight. Made of wrought iron arranged in a criss-cross pattern that started in a wide base and ended in a pointy top, on which sat a metal sculpture of a tutu-wearing llama ballerina, the tower stood over three hundred metres high. The dancing llama was so big and so high up, it could be seen from miles away.
Phillipe felt strange being on a mission – even an unofficial one – without Lloyd and Elloise, but Agent 0011 was reluctant to involve his friends in this escapade. It was bad enough that he was in trouble with Mama Llama: he didn’t need to put the others in the boss’s bad books as well.
As Phillipe paced the brick courtyard below the deserted tower, cold wind swept around him, sending leaves scraping like rattling bones along the pavement. Agent 0011 shivered and glanced at his watch.
12:03.
His informant was late.
The wind shifted, sending an unusual scent towards Phillipe.
I smell a rat, he thought.
‘Pssst!’
Phillipe felt tapping on his leg and looked down. A tiny creature scuttled out from between his hooves, but it was so dark he couldn’t make out what he was looking at.
‘Ditch the sunnies,’ a squeaky voice said.
No wonder it’s so dark, Phillipe thought, sliding his glasses into his pocket.
That’s when he saw it.
‘Ugh! Get away from me, you dirty rat.’
‘Hey!’ the rat hissed angrily. ‘Who are you calling dirty? I’ll have you know I showered today.’ He held out his paw. ‘Smell me.’
Phillipe drew back, repulsed. ‘No, thanks.’
The rat, who wore black pants and a black shirt, and had a backpack over one shoulder, studied Phillipe. ‘It’s not safe on the ground,’ he said, whiskers twitching. ‘Let’s climb the tower so we can speak privately.’
Sceptical, Phillipe thought he smelt another rat. He desperately wished Elloise were with him. She’d know what to do in a situation like this.
‘Trust me,’ the rodent said. ‘The badger you seek has eyes and ears everywhere. We’ll be safe in the tower. Let’s go.’
Desperate for a lead on General Bottomburp so he could get back in Mama Llama’s good books, Phillipe followed the rat towards the tower entrance. His agent instincts told him something was wrong, but he needed those top-secret files back. It wasn’t only his country’s security on the line – it was also his reputation.
Within seconds, the rat picked the door lock and ushered Phillipe inside, leading him up staircase after staircase until they came to the uppermost viewing platform, immediately below the ballerina statue.
It was cold and blustery, and Phillipe pulled his trench coat around him. Then the wind whipped his hat off and Phillipe ran a hoof through his luxuriant fringe, self-consciously holding it down.
The rat shut the door behind them.
Phillipe peeked over the edge of the tower. ‘Can we move this along?’
Unlike Phillipe, the rat seemed to have no qualms about being up so high. He scampered across the platform and onto the railing while the wind buffeted his fur.
That rat has nerves of steel, Phillipe thought.
Being standard LOL issue, Phillipe’s trench coat was equipped with a special spy camera called a Butt-Cam that was hidden inside the garment’s top button. Phillipe touched the button, angling the Butt-Cam towards the rat to record their conversation.
‘Ratrick Tailbiter.’ The rat performed a deep bow. ‘At your service.’
‘Where’s General Bottomburp?’ Phillipe asked, all business.
‘Not so fast, my woolly friend.’ Ratrick leapt off the railing, scurrying to the other side of the platform and stopping on a box with a large red button on top.
Phillipe hadn’t noticed the box in the dim light. Now the rat was standing on it, he saw it was printed with the words ‘DANGER. EXPLOSIVES.’.
Ratrick continued talking, apparently oblivious to what he was standing on. ‘I’m certain the information I have on Bottomburp’s whereabouts is valuable to you,’ he said.
Phillipe racked his brain, trying to think of a plan to get the rat off the bomb before he accidentally set it off.
‘And you’ll be glad to hear I know where he is.’ Ratrick tapped his toenails closer to the detonator button, making a rat-a-tat-tat sound against the wood. ‘It’ll cost you big time, though.’
The rat-a-tat-tat sound seemed to grow louder until Phillipe turned and realised that the noise was coming from an approaching helicopter. A yellow spotlight swung through the night sky towards the tower, illuminating the platform. Phillipe shielded his eyes, squinting into the light.
When he saw the words ‘Llama Republic News Channel’ on the side of the chopper, Phillipe’s heart sank. Being on the news again was the last thing he needed.
He turned to Ratrick. ‘What’s going on?’
The rat’s whiskers twitched. ‘It seems there’s some breaking news about a crazy llama threatening to blow up the Eyeful of Llama Tower. Oh, my! What clever little rat could have tipped them off? And I wonder who the crazy llama might be?’
‘I’m not crazy,’ Phillipe huffed. ‘And you’re far from clever. You’re the one about to set the explosives off.’
Ratrick tipped his head to the side. ‘Did you say explosives?’
‘Yes!’ Phillipe gasped. He turned to the chopper, waving frantically. ‘It’s not me,’ he shouted. ‘It’s the rat.’ Phillipe pointed at the tiny rodent, who – in his black clothing – was barely visible in the dark.
The pilot’s voice sounded over the chopper’s loudspeaker. ‘We can’t see a rat. All we see is a crazy llama waving at us. Our news crew would love to do an exclusive interview with you. Can you tell us what’s going through your mind right now?’
Phillipe smelt a rat for the third time, and it didn’t smell pleasant at all. He turned on Ratrick. ‘You are a dirty rat! This is a trap, isn’t it?’
Agent 0011’s mind raced. I don’t even know Ratrick, so he must be working for someone. Who made him set this rat trap? Who wants to get rid of me and make sure the world sees?
There could only be one answer. The stinky badger general had to be behind this set up.
Ratrick tapped his foot, rat-a-tat-tat, on the red button. ‘It’s someone else’s turn to be caught in a trap. Us rats have had enough, so stay where you are, llama. One false move and this tower gets blown to smithereens – and they’ll all blame you.’
‘Who put you up to this?’ Phillipe demanded. ‘Was it Bottomburp?’
Ratrick placed his hand on his heart. ‘I’m a rat of my word – and I gave my word that I wouldn’t say.’
The next moments passed in a blur. Phillipe tried desperately to talk Ratrick out of doing anything foolish while the helicopter hovered ever closer and the rat’s foot danced on the detonator. Phillipe didn’t want any innocent animals – or his reputation – getting hurt, but Ratrick wouldn’t listen. The rodent performed a neat little jig while Phillipe spoke, then held his arms wide, taunting Phillipe by blowing raspberries.
Desperate, Phillipe lunged, but the miniature menace took off, easily evading him. In his clumsy panic, Phillipe tripped and fell onto the detonator button.
It was Ocean World all over again, only a thousand times worse.
‘Sayonara, llama!’ Ratrick chuckled as he vaulted off the tower. Dropping rapidly, he pulled a ripcord on his backpack, opening a tiny parachute.
The fuse to the dynamite caught and the flame raced towards the explosives.
Devastated, Phillipe slumped to the floor, waiting for the end.
I’ve failed again, Phillipe thought, as he watched the fuse burn.
He was so disappointed in himself that he couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
An image of Elloise popped into his head. ‘Goodbye, sweet llama,’ he said, and sighed.
‘Don’t punish Phillipe. He’s a good agent,’ the Elloise-mirage replied.
Phillipe had almost burst with pride hearing Elloise say those words to Mama Llama. If Elloise thought it, perhaps it was true.
A purposeful look set on Phillipe’s face. Despite his mistakes, he was a good agent. Enlivened, he scrambled to his hooves and stomped on the flame like a llama possessed. Or a tap-dancer with ants in his pants. Or Lloyd when he was busting for a wee.
The fuse stayed lit. Worse, the flame sped ever closer to the dynamite.
‘Oh, that’s gonna hurt,’ the helicopter pilot said over the loudspeaker.
Ignoring the comment, Phillipe ran for the door and tried the handle. It was locked.
Phillipe checked the fuse.
Only millimetres remained.
Frantic now, Phillipe began to climb. Anything to get away from the explosives.
BOOM!
The dynamite exploded. A cascade of sparks and flames, like fireworks on super-charge, erupted. The tower rocked and swayed. Metal shrieked. Timber shattered. The viewing platform and everything above it – including the llama ballerina statue that Phillipe now clung to – tore away, rocketing like a torpedo towards the hovering helicopter.
‘I want my mama!’ Phillipe sobbed.
Luckily, the llama ballerina – and Phillipe – overshot the helicopter.
Fearing he might be launched into outer space, and forced to think quickly (which had never been Phillipe’s forte), Agent 0011 let go. He fell, legs swinging, at the same time as the chopper tipped to the left. The rotor blades dipped away and by some miracle, Phillipe managed to grasp onto one of the landing skids below the cabin. The helicopter rocked from side to side as it spun around, hundreds of metres above the city.
Meanwhile, the llama ballerina reached the top of her trajectory. As suddenly as she had shot upwards, she now plummeted to the ground, piercing the bricks in the courtyard below with an enormous crash and plunging deep into the earth to be buried headfirst with only her slippers left showing.
The irate news crew shouted at Phillipe from inside the helicopter.
‘You’re in big trouble,’ the pilot growled down at him over the loudspeaker, ‘and we’re taking you to the police station right now!’
Phillipe’s mind raced as the chopper swung around and headed downtown. No one would believe that he hadn’t set the bomb. No one else had seen the rat.
The pilot was right. He was in big trouble.
If the news crew didn’t believe him and they’d been right there, why would Mama Llama believe him? She wouldn’t take his word for it. Not after the Ocean World debacle. He could only hope the Butt-Cam footage would help clear his name. It was all he had right now.
Llama mia, here I go again, he thought. I’ll be suspended for sure this time.
The helicopter passed over several skyscrapers. As they neared the Republic State Building with its thin spire stretching into the sky, Phillipe saw his chance.
