Blackout by Andrew Cope

the lasers off course. You’re an evil cat.’
    Sophie hid Shakespeare in her coat. ‘He’s a hero,’ she glared. ‘He’s put a stop to your wicked plan.’
    They were very high up and the wind was howling. Cups and saucers whipped off the table into the city below. ‘It’s a bit blowy,’ shouted one of the old ladies. ‘Like the gale that brought the trees down in 1986.’
    The Past Master knew that Plan A had been foiled so he went straight to Plan B:
Escape. Live to fight another day
. The old man walked calmly to his wheelchair. ‘You’ve heard of the saying “it ain’t rocket science”. Well, this is!’ he yelled, his voice trailing away in the wind. He pressed a button and wings flipped out of the side of the chair. Button number two ignited the engines, flames billowing out of the back. He fixed his goggles into place and struggled to strap himself in.
    Shakespeare was proud of foiling the plan and thrilled at knocking the laser beams off target.
But the mission isn’t over. There’s no way I can let him get away
! The cat leapt out of Sophie’s arms and launched himself at the wheelchair, gripping the man round the neck.
You’re not allowed to escape, you evil baddie
. The old man tried to release the handbrake on his chair, but Shakespeare sank his claws in. The man gripped the feline scarf, trying to tear Shakespeare away from his neck.

    Sophie, seeing her cat was in peril, threw herself at the wheelchair. The man screamed as the cat’s claws sank in. He swatted Shakespeare and a ball of ginger hit the floor. Sophie landed on the launch button and the chair accelerated towards the edge of the eighty-seventh floor.
    Dorothy spilt her tea as the jet-powered wheelchair was catapulted into the London sky.
    Shakespeare righted himself, his head spinning. The wheelchair was spluttering into the early afternoon sky, the pensioner strapped in and Sophie’s legs dangling off the edge.
That wasn’t supposed to happen!
    Ben was yelling something that was lost in the wind. Shakespeare looked at the professor. He looked back, his face white and drawn, his mind whirring. You didn’t need the biggest brain in the world to know that this wasn’t good.

15. The Catsuit
    ‘But it’s untested,’ yelled Professor Cortex as he pulled and stretched the Lycra suit on to the cat. ‘I mean, it works in theory, but,’ he gulped, ‘we’re a long way up and this isn’t a theory.’
    Shakespeare had conquered his fear of dogs.
And water’s not as bad as it used to be. Now I’ve got the chance to tick ‘heights’ off too
.
    All eyes were on the cat dressed in a tight-fitting orange suit. He stood tall like he’d seen superheroes do.
    ‘The idea is that you hold your legs out and catch the wind,’ yelled the professor. ‘But, up here, it’s very windy,’ he said, stating the obvious. He carried the Lycra-clad cat towards the edge of the roof.
    Shakespeare could see the microlite wheelchair wobbling in the near distance, Sophie’s
legs kicking as she struggled to stay aboard. He suspected it had been designed for one passenger and that Sophie’s weight wasn’t helping matters. If he’d thought things through, he wouldn’t have done it. But he wasn’t in thinking mode – he was in Spy Cat mode.
Rule number one! My favourite person in the whole world is in danger and I’m the only one who can help
.
    ‘
Geronimooooo!
’ wailed the cat, spreading his legs and plunging off the side of the Shard.
    He remembered the professor saying that it’s gliding, not flying. He recalled the video of the squirrels. They simply extended their legs and soared effortlessly through the air. ‘Except it’s not as easy as it looks,’ he yowled, legs flailing as he whooshed past floors 86, 85, 84, 83 …
    It was at floor 33 that he stopped scrambling and started gliding. His legs extended and instead of falling he started swooping.
    ‘
Woaaa
,’ he meowed, catching an upward current and zooming past the huge