About the Book

  The League of Llamas (LOL) are a group of secret llama agents and they’re on a mission to save the world – if only Agent 0011 Phillipe Llamar could stop looking in the mirror at his luxurious fringe and Agent 0013 Lloyd Llamanator could resist the temptation to eat everything in his path! There’s also the thieving General Bottomburp to contend with and a mysterious lady llama in red.

  Can Phillipe and Lloyd foil the evil plans of Bottomburp and his badger henchmen? The fate of the Llama Republic’s most prized relic, the Golden Llama, depends on it!

  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

  About the Author

  League of Llamas: Llama Impossible

  Imprint

  Read more at Penguin Books Australia

  LOL Agent 0011, Phillipe Llamar, dangled from the open manhole in the ceiling. The only thing stopping him from crashing to the floor was the rope around his middle.

  The next part of the operation was crucial.

  Phillipe had to crack the security code to General Bottomburp’s office door then swing inside the room, all without touching the hallway floor below him. If even so much as a single strand of llama wool touched the tiles it would set off the alarm.

  The rope around Phillipe’s waist was already straining from his weight, cutting into the black lycra jumpsuit he wore. It was so tight that if a comparison could be made, you’d say he resembled a humungous hot dog with a hair band around it.

  ‘If only I hadn’t scoffed those donuts at lunch,’ Phillipe mused as he flicked his luxuriant llama fringe from his eyes and squinted at the control panel.

  If he didn’t hurry up, he’d be discovered and Bottomburp’s squad of commando badger bodyguards would swarm over him like ants on a cupcake.

  ‘Think, Phillipe, think.’

  Sweat dripped from Phillipe’s forehead, trickling down his handsome nose. The fake beard he was wearing to conceal his identity drooped like a dying spider.

  Phillipe worked for the League of Llamas – LOL for short – a top-secret agency of elite llama spies run by the Llama Republic’s government.

  He was good at his job, but he had a dreadful memory for small details.

  Even though his boss, Mama Llama, had given him the security code for the badger general’s study door earlier that night, he’d already forgotten it.

  A loud ‘Skree-skree-skree-skra!’ – similar to a high-pitched turkey call – sounded in Phillipe’s earpiece.

  It was the llama alarm call.

  ‘Phillipe, evacuate!’ said Lloyd Llamanator, aka Agent 0013.

  Downstairs in the ballroom of Bottomburp’s sprawling mansion on Badger Island, a party was in full swing. Lloyd was there now, keeping an eye on their target. General Ignatius Bottomburp was an odious badger, a troublemaker, a liar, and a thief of the highest order. Basically, any negative description you could think of.

  General Bottomburp also had a reputation for bottom burping. A lot.

  ‘I repeat,’ Lloyd said frantically. ‘Evacuate. The commando badgers are coming.’

  Another trickle of sweat slid down Phillipe’s forehead.

  That sweat is really going to ruin my awesomely luxuriant fringe.

  What was the code?

  5993?

  3507?

  3704?

  As Phillipe was hanging upside down, the numbers he punched into the panel spelt out words.

  EGGS.

  L0SE.

  h0LE.

  Don’t get distracted, Phillipe. Focus.

  The numbers on the security panel flashed as he kept pressing digits. Which wasn’t easy when his hooves were so big and the buttons were so impossibly small.

  ‘For once I wish I wasn’t all hooves!’ Phillipe muttered.

  More number words appeared.

  EELS (5733).

  G0Sh (4509).

  B00B (8008).

  The door wasn’t opening, and the badgers were on their way.

  Phillipe considered tugging his wool out in frustration, but he held back. It had taken many months and several expensive wool extensions to get his fringe to the right length and volume. He couldn’t jeopardise his good looks now.

  ‘Think!’

  Lloyd was indignant. ‘Did you call me thick?’

  ‘No, Lloyd,’ Phillipe hissed. ‘I’m trying to think what the code is.’

  ‘BWWWWAAAAARRRRF!’

  A loud burp sounded in the earpiece.

  ‘Sorry, those prawns are giving me gas,’ Lloyd said. ‘Can’t you remember the code?’

  ‘No,’ Phillipe said. ‘Do you know it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lloyd said. ‘I wrote it down when Mama Llama told us because I knew you’d never remember it.’

  Phillipe heard lips smacking.

  ‘Seriously, Lloyd. Are you still eating?’ Phillipe groaned. ‘Hurry, give me the code. I can hear footsteps.’

  ‘It’s 707. Don’t you recall Mama Llama telling us the code was so simple even you could remember it?’

  ‘Ah, no.’ Phillipe shook his head. ‘I have the worst memory in the history of the League of Llamas.’ He laughed. ‘That’s why I have you.’

  The sound of lips smacking and another BWARF! crackled in Phillipe’s earpiece.

  How can he eat at a time like this? Phillipe wondered. At least he’s as cool as a cucumber in stressful situations.

  The image of Lloyd looking like a green, woolly cucumber popped into Phillipe’s head.

  LOL!

  Phillipe nearly laughed out loud. He took a deep breath and steadied his nerves. The badgers were getting closer.

  He punched in the three digits.

  707.

  Upside down, the numbers read: L0L.

  ‘Of course! LOL.’

  The heavy timber door popped open.

  ‘I’m in!’ In one fluid motion, Phillipe swung through the door, snipped the rope around his waist with his teeth, performed a tight triple somersault in the air then landed neatly on all fours on the carpeted floor inside Bottomburp’s office.

  Phillipe tucked the remnants of the rope inside his secret agent jumpsuit, shut the door behind him and paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkened study. He spotted a desk with a laptop on it and pressed the space bar on the keyboard. The screen lit up to show a picture of General Bottomburp in extremely tight Speedos, reclining on a sun-lounge at what appeared to be an expensive seaside resort.

  Phillipe shook his head violently, wishing he could un-see the ghastly image that had been burned into his brain. Unfortunately for Phillipe, the image of the portly, near-naked badger would haunt him forever.

  Still trying to forget the sight, Agent 0011 retrieved a USB drive from his pocket. The drive was shaped like a llama’s head and neck, and had ‘Property of LOL’ in gold lettering on the side. Phillipe inserted the device into Bottomburp’s laptop. He typed the word ‘SPIT’ in a search box then pressed ‘ENTER’.

  A cartwheeling badger icon appeared on the screen as the directory scan began. Phillipe glanced at the door, expecting badgers to burst through it at any moment.

  A file name popped up on the laptop screen.

  SPIT Sabotage Plan.

  Jackpot!

  The cartwheeling badger icon rolled around the screen as the file started saving onto his USB.

  Two years ago, the Llama Republic’s government had launched a space station to orbit the planet. Llama astronauts lived and worked on the station collecting valuable information about life, the universe and everything.

  The Space Precision Initial Test, or SPIT for short, was the most advanced technology known to llama. And it was the biggest investment the Llama Republic had ever made.

  But a recent break-in at the Llama Republic Space Agency had put everyone on high alert. Critical files had gone missing and the government feared an attack on SPIT was imminent. Devious animal governments around the world like Chickenlovakia, Crowatia, Portugull and Leechenstein – to name a few – would do anything to put an end to SPIT.

  It had been suspected that General Bottomburp was working with one of these foreign governments to sabotage SPIT. The nasty badger had long been an adversary of the Llama Republic. He was often under investigation by LOL and he and Phillipe were sworn enemies.

  When the SPIT Sabotage Plan file had popped up on the computer, Phillipe knew the agency’s suspicions were correct. Bottomburp was prepared to jeopardise SPIT and many llama lives with it.

  ‘I’ve got you now, Bottomburp,’ Phillipe said.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside. The file finished copying as the office door burst open.

  Phillipe jumped into action, tearing off his jumpsuit to reveal the tuxedo he wore underneath. He grabbed the USB, popped it in his mouth, then swallowed.

  The lights flicked on.

  ‘Ahem!’

  Making sure that his fake beard was now firmly in place, Phil
lipe turned from the window. ‘Hello, General Bottomburp and hello to your trusty commando badgers. The rumours are true, you do travel in large colonies. Smashing party you have here.’ Phillipe flashed the snarling badger a smile. ‘Could you tell me where the bathroom is, please? I’ve gotten hopelessly lost in this marvellous mansion of yours.’

  General Bottomburp’s eyes narrowed. ‘This door is locked with a security code. How did you get in?’

  Phillipe coughed. ‘Funny story, actually. You see, a rather smelly badger was coming out of this room as I arrived. Sorry, I don’t mean to offend, but he was very smelly. Smelly with a capital S-M-E-L-L-I-E.’

  ‘That’s not how you spell smelly,’ Bottomburp grunted.

  ‘No matter.’ Phillipe waved the correction away. ‘It was so smelly in here I assumed it was the bathroom and ducked in to use the amenities. It was only after the door closed that I discovered that this wasn’t a bathroom at all.’ Phillipe clutched the badger’s arm. ‘Thank you for rescuing me from the hideous smell.’

  Bottomburp threw off Phillipe’s grasp. ‘You look familiar. Do I know you?’

  Phillipe covered his face and turned away. ‘Nope.’

  In an effort to distract Bottomburp, Phillipe clutched his stomach and doubled over. ‘Woo-wee! My stomach really is playing up. I think it might have been those prawns.’

  To emphasise his point, Phillipe belched. All over the general.

  BARP!

  Bottomburp must believe me now, Phillipe thought. That was a very convincing burp.

  PARP!

  That one was from General Bottomburp. And it was a bottom burp. A putridly foul one at that.

  Phillipe’s eyes watered at the stench, but he stood his ground.

  BAAARRRPPP!

  PAAARRRPPP!

  The situation rapidly deteriorated into a BARPING and PARPING competition between llama and badger. Phillipe needed to get out of there fast – before the general recognised him. He pulled back his lips and let out the most disgusting belch imaginable.

  BBBBBAAAAARRRRRPPPPP-AAARRRPPP-AAARRRPPP!

  He added some spit in for good measure, firing a glob at Bottomburp’s nose where it landed and stuck fast.

  ‘Pardon me.’ Phillipe dabbed ineffectually at Bottomburp’s nose.

  ‘Enough!’ Bottomburp growled. ‘The bathroom is two doors down on your left.’

  Phillipe skedaddled out of the office and downstairs to the ballroom, heading straight for Lloyd, who was hovering over the buffet table scoffing oysters. Beside him stood an attractive lady llama with slender, banana-shaped ears, from which hung earrings in the shape of dancing llamas. She wore a sparkling red dress and matching high heels.

  The llama in red, Phillipe thought.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he hissed at his secret agent partner.

  Lloyd shot Phillipe a despairing look. ‘They’re about to bring out the hot food.’ He glanced at the lady llama. ‘And Elloise was telling me about the new L-Phone.’

  ‘For llama’s sake,’ Phillipe snapped. ‘You’ve got lettuce in your teeth and crumbs on your coat. This is not an eating contest.’ He lowered his voice, hoping Lloyd’s new friend wouldn’t overhear. ‘We’ve got to go before Bottomburp discovers I’ve stolen his files.’

  ‘Too late, boys,’ Elloise said. She grabbed Lloyd’s front leg and twisted it behind him. ‘Hand over those files or the camelid gets it.’

  ‘You’re a spy?’

  ‘I heard everything this wool-brained nitwit said,’ Elloise informed them, nodding. ‘In between the burping and farting, that is.’

  Lloyd stared at the floor. ‘It wasn’t me. It was that guy there.’ He pointed at a lemur hunched over the bar.

  Elloise rolled her eyes. ‘The stench was unmistakably llama. Now, hand me the files, Fringe Boy.’

  ‘Who? Me?’ Phillipe flicked his magnificent fringe. ‘You like?’

  ‘It’s not bad, but hurry up. We don’t have all night.’ She glanced around. It was only a matter of time before the llamas, bears, meerkats and other animals around them noticed the situation. ‘Those files will be safe with me, don’t worry.’ She flashed Phillipe a smile that was far from reassuring. ‘Now.’

  Phillipe risked a glance back the way he’d come. General Bottomburp was descending the staircase with his badger guards, his jaw and fists clenched.

  ‘Phillipe, she’s hurting me,’ Lloyd moaned.

  Phillipe gulped. He had to think fast. He couldn’t give Elloise the files even if he wanted to, and he needed to free Lloyd, quickly.

  ‘No prob-llama.’ Phillipe reached out and tickled Elloise between the ears. She relaxed immediately, a contented grin spreading across her face. Seeing his chance, Phillipe pulled Lloyd out of Elloise’s grip and took the lady llama in his arms.

  ‘Hey! You tricked me,’ she said, trying to wriggle out of Phillipe’s grasp.

  Phillipe tightened his hold. ‘Let’s dance.’

  Elloise glared at Phillipe as he whirled her across the ballroom floor, performing a fancy foxtrot. She was unable to pull away unless she wanted to risk causing a scene, a fact Phillipe was counting on. After pausing to retrieve a prawn from the serving table, Lloyd followed, looking very much like a third ear.

  ‘You’re an excellent dancer,’ Elloise said.

  ‘You’re not bad yourself,’ Phillipe replied. ‘Are you going to tell me who you work for and what you want with Bottomburp’s files?’

  ‘It’s not in your best interests to know right now.’

  General Bottomburp and his cronies pushed closer through the crowd.

  ‘Why not? Is it because you work for Bottomburp?’ Phillipe manoeuvred Elloise towards the glass doors overlooking the lawn. They danced between the imposing badger statues on the edge of the dance floor. Before the lady llama could answer, Phillipe released her, flung the doors open and bolted.

  PARP!

  Lloyd galloped beside Phillipe, a prawn tail dangling from his mouth.

  ‘Grab those llamas!’ General Bottomburp shouted.

  The LOL secret agents raced across the sprawling property, only screeching to a halt when they reached the fence bordering the estate.

  Phillipe pulled an auto zip-line out of his jacket pocket and fired it over the fence. A small but incredibly strong barbed hook lodged itself high in a tree outside the estate grounds. Phillipe grabbed Lloyd and pressed the ‘GO’ button on the zip-line handle.

  The LOL agents shot upwards.

  SMACK!

  Phillipe groaned. ‘That’s going back to Development.’

  Lloyd shook himself all over. ‘My leg feels dead. Maybe I broke it,’ he wailed as he waved the limb in the air.

  ‘Lloyd,’ Phillipe said. ‘Get a hold of yourself.’

  ‘But my leg is paralysed. I’m shaking it and I can’t feel it!’

  ‘That’s not your leg,’ Phillipe said. ‘It’s mine.’

  Lloyd stared at the leg he was holding. ‘Oh, right. Sorry. I couldn’t see in the dark.’

  Phillipe unwound himself and stood up. ‘Quick! The commando badgers are coming.’

  The llamas had bought themselves some time while the badgers had to get through the gates at the edge of the estate grounds. But now torches and search lights beamed through the darkness towards them. Phillipe trotted over to some bushes nearby. His stomach rumbled.

  Gardenias.

  My favourite, thought Phillipe. Soft, juicy cushions like fragrant marshmallows melting in your mouth . . .

  Phillipe was tempted to take a nibble, but the thought of the approaching badgers stopped him. He clamped his mouth firmly closed and pushed aside the branches of the gardenia bushes. Hidden among the greenery was a Llamaborghini.

  Black. Sleek. Ultra cool.

  Right where they’d left it.

  Phillipe jumped in and gunned the engine while Lloyd slid into the passenger seat.

  ‘Don’t let them get away!’ Bottomburp shouted.

  Commando badgers carrying an array of fighting sticks and longswords surrounded the car.