Tom, Sophie and their grandad stood side by side on the bank, staring at the houseboat as it made its way down the river.
Then Tom whispered to Sophie, ‘I’m going to chase him.’
Sophie whispered back, ‘What are you talking about? Don’t be an idiot!’
‘He’ll get away if we don’t do something!’ Tom said. ‘You should come too.’ He turned to Grandad. ‘I’ll come and see you later, Grandad. Me and Sophie have urgent business to attend to.’
‘Who’s Sergeant Peters?’ Grandad said, cupping his hand around his good ear.
‘Not Sergeant Peters – URGENT BUSINESS,’ Tom said. He put his skateboard down on the towpath and Rex hopped on the front.
As Tom pushed off, Sophie sighed and followed him, Felicity scampering along beside her.
As they turned the corner of the canal, they passed London Zoo, where their parents worked. The canal cut the zoo in two, with owls and toucans and a giant aviary on the north side of the canal and giraffes and zebras and all the other zoo animals on the south side. Two bridges linked the two sides of the zoo.
Tom and Sophie passed underneath the first bridge at exactly the same moment as their mother and father walked over it. Mr and Mrs Nightingale had just finished their shifts at the zoo – Mrs Nightingale worked in the zoo hospital and Mr Nightingale worked in the large-mammals section.
Mr Nightingale spotted Tom and Sophie on the towpath below.
‘Tom! Sophie!’ he called out.
But they were too busy talking to each other to hear him.
‘They’re up to something,’ Mr Nightingale said to his wife. ‘Tom had that look in his eye.’
‘You mean the don’t-talk-to-me-I’m-on-a-mission look?’ said Mrs Nightingale. ‘Yes, I know the one. It always reminds me of you, for some reason.’
‘Well, I’d better see what they’re doing,’ said Mr Nightingale, jogging away from his wife. ‘Besides, it’d be a shame to miss out on the fun.’
Tom and Sophie passed the other zoo bridge. Usually they’d stop to peer up at the birds in the aviary, but not today.
‘There he is,’ said Tom. ‘I can see the back of his boat.’
‘We’d better keep our distance,’ Sophie said, ‘or he’ll see us.’
Rex was still balancing on the front of Tom’s skateboard. Now Tom had slowed down, the little terrier hopped off and started trotting along the towpath again.
‘Your skateboard’s pretty noisy, you know,’ Sophie said. ‘He’ll hear it if you’re not careful.’
‘You’re right.’ Tom picked up his board and put it under his arm. ‘What time did the police say they’d get here?’
‘They didn’t,’ said Sophie as they walked briskly along the towpath, sticking close to the bushes.
‘Quick! Hide! He’s looking this way!’ Tom exclaimed.
They both ducked down behind a bin.
‘Someone’s chucked away a whole packet of Cheestrings,’ Tom said.
‘Do NOT eat them!’ hissed Sophie.
‘They’ve not even been opened!’ protested Tom.
‘Shh, he’s speeding up,’ Sophie said.
The houseboat started to move more quickly. Tom and Sophie had to run to keep up with it.
‘He’s shouting at someone on the bank,’ said Tom.
The houseboat was going at maximum speed now. Soon Tom had to stop to get his breath back.
‘You . . . keep . . . going,’ he gasped. ‘Will catch . . . up . . . on . . . skay . . . board.’
‘OK, keep Rex and Felicity with you,’ said Sophie.
Tom bent over for a few moments to catch his breath, Rex on one side of him and Felicity on the other.
Sophie picked up the pace. She was one of the fastest runners in her school, particularly over short distances, so she had no problem keeping up with the houseboat.
She passed an old couple out for an early evening stroll.
‘Hello, Mr Davies, Mrs Davies,’ she panted as the houseboat on the canal slid in between two others that were heading in the opposite direction.
Sophie continued to run as quickly as she could.
Then she saw the man balancing on the roof of the houseboat. He was peering down at the bank. Then he threw three large objects into the bushes and jumped back down on to the deck.
Sophie reached the spot where he had thrown the objects. They looked like two pillowcases and a suitcase. The suitcase was tangled up in a hedge. One pillowcase was sitting in the middle of the towpath and the other was perched on the very edge of the towpath, about to drop into the canal.
Instinctively Sophie picked up the pillowcase that was at the edge of the path and threw it towards the hedge for safety. It made a loud hissing noise, just as Tom’s skateboard appeared behind her.
‘What happened? What’s wrong?’ he asked.
Rex barked at the pillowcases while Felicity sniffed at one of them and then backed away.
‘He’s dumped this stuff,’ Sophie said, nodding at the pillowcases and the suitcase.
‘What’s in them?’ Tom asked.
‘Well, I heard hissing,’ Sophie said, ’so I’m guessing snakes.’
Tom approached the pillowcase on the towpath and prodded it gingerly with his toe.
‘Tom, what are you doing?’ Sophie cried out.
A king cobra reared up out of the pillowcase. Its hood was open and it was leaning back, ready to strike.
‘Get back! Get back!’ Sophie screamed.
Tom fell over backwards and landed on the towpath with a thump.
The cobra darted its head forwards and then backwards, threatening to bite.
Sophie grabbed Tom by the armpits and dragged him backwards as quickly as she could. She picked up Rex and Felicity’s leads and yanked them back too.
‘A cobra bite can kill you in twenty minutes,’ she whispered.
‘I’m OK, I’m OK. He didn’t bite me,’ said Tom.
‘You mean, he hasn’t . . . yet,’ said Sophie. ‘We need to get further back – some cobras can spit venom into your eyes and blind you.’
The cobra was starting to emerge from the pillowcase. Its top half disappeared into the hedge; its bottom half was still sliding across the towpath. It was five metres long at least.
‘It’s escaping!’ Tom cried. ‘What do we do?’
‘Don’t move. I’m ringing Dad’s mobile,’ said Sophie, at the same time as a ringing tone came from behind them.
‘Dad? Dad!’ she cried as her father appeared by her side.
‘Hello, kids,’ he said. ‘What’s going on here?’
Then he saw the bottom half of the king cobra sticking out of the hedge.
‘Have you been bitten?’ he asked anxiously.
‘No,’ Tom and Sophie said.
‘OK, get right back over there. Behind that tree,’ he ordered them.
As they backed away, Mr Nightingale groaned quietly. ‘Why can’t you just find stray kittens – like normal children?’