About the Book

  A train speeding out of control, a bold bank robbery and a dazzling diamond heist – trouble is afoot in New Llama City! Luckily, the League of Llamas’ top agents, Phillipe and Lloyd, are on the case. And luckily for them, Mama Llama and agent Elloise Llamaresky are on their cases to make sure the job actually gets done.

  Is the odious badger General Bottomburp to blame? Or could there be a new kingpin in town? After all, every secret agent should know that appearances can be deceiving!

  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

  League of Llamas: The Golden Llama

  Imprint

  Read more at Penguin Books Australia

  Llama Express Train L123 hurtled along the tracks towards Central Station in New Llama City. The portly (to put it politely) llama train driver was on his twelfth chocolate-chip cookie when the thought occurred to him that the train might be going too fast.

  The driver glanced over the rim of his coffee cup and out the window. A moustache of milk lined his top lip, which he licked absently. The train shot through Llama Square Station. The llamas standing on the platform stared in bewilderment as the train raced by.

  ‘Holy llama!’ The driver spilled his coffee as he sat up. Cookie crumbs and chocolate chips went flying. ‘We were meant to stop there.’

  The driver turned the auto-drive function off and pulled the brake lever.

  The train kept going.

  ‘Hmm. Hmm. Hmm.’ The driver hummed. All llamas hum when they’re nervous or stressed, and this particular llama was both. ‘This is not good.’

  The train blew through two more stations. The driver frantically radioed the Llama Express Train Total and Utter Control Experts, or LETTUCE.

  ‘Attention, LETTUCE. We have a problem. My brakes are gone.’

  ‘Hang on, L123. With you in a minute.’

  ‘I can’t hold on. This is an emergency.’

  The train passed another station and the driver shoved the rest of his cookie into his gob, just as the train lurched forward. The driver’s head whipped back, causing a large piece of cookie to lodge in his throat.

  ‘Oof!’

  Coughing and choking, the driver flailed about, bumping buttons and levers. The train ploughed along the tracks, ever faster. Screams from the passengers in the carriages behind filled the air.

  But the train driver couldn’t hear them. He was lying on the cabin floor, motionless.

  At that precise moment, Phillipe Llamar was passing over the train in his Llamaborghini, cruising in flight mode.

  Phillipe worked for LOL – aka the League of Llamas – a top-secret agency of elite llama spies run by the Llama Republic Government.

  If James Bond was a llama, he’d be Phillipe, albeit slightly more clumsy and conceited. As the top-ranking LOL agent,

  Phillipe was a class above other llamas. He was suave, handsome and brave. He also had the thickest, most luxuriant fringe you’ve ever seen and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

  Unbeknown to his boss, Mama Llama, Phillipe had borrowed a Llamaborghini from LOL HQ and taken off on a holiday to the Ballamas. Currently on his way home, Phillipe was still wearing board shorts and a blue hibiscus print shirt. Unbuttoned, of course, and showing off several bling-worthy neck chains.

  Phillipe checked himself out in the rear vision mirror, admiring his glorious fringe.

  Sun streaks and braids suit me, he decided as he winked at his reflection.

  ‘Looking good, Agent 0011. LOL!’

  Suddenly, Phillipe’s secret agent instincts kicked in as he spotted the speeding train. Forgetting his holiday and his fringe, he steered the car lower until it flew above the train.

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ Phillipe murmured, as he heard the passengers’ screams. ‘I’m going to have to get on that train.’

  He flicked a switch on the Llamaborghini’s dashboard. The driver’s door opened, lifting upwards like a wing. The llama secret agent switched the car to autopilot, programming it to return to LOL HQ. Then he flicked a button marked ‘PLLOP’, which stood for Precision Llama Lowering Object Paraphernalia.

  A panel in the car’s roof opened and a metal claw extended forward, holding a coil of wire rope. Phillipe secured the rope around his waist, clamped the other end onto the car and jumped out.

  ‘Geroni-llama!’ he cried as he fell through the air.

  Wumph!

  Phillipe landed on the train roof on all fours, released the wire rope, then stood up. A steely look overcame his handsome face and he set out, clip-clopping towards the driver’s cabin as his favourite movie soundtrack, Llama Impossible, ran through his head.

  A gecko in a singlet and jeans with a bald head and massive biceps like the actor Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Geckoson appeared at the front of the train. Phillipe faltered. He wasn’t overly threatened by the gecko’s muscular build, although it was impressive. What freaked Phillipe out was that the gecko kept licking its eyeballs.

  Phillipe’s stomach flipped with disgust as he forced himself to keep moving. ‘Urgh!’

  ‘You’re dead meat!’ The gecko hissed, running at Phillipe and launching a brutal attack.

  Don’t let the tongue touch me, Phillipe silently prayed. He dodged the gecko’s flying feet and flicking tail. Please not the tongue! ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

  ‘Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.’ The gecko’s foot whipped out and smacked Phillipe in the knee, sending him crashing down.

  The gecko grabbed Phillipe’s ear and flung him over the edge of the train. Phillipe caught the roof just in time and clung there, his entire body dangling over the side, swaying and bumping as the train motored along.

  ‘Help!’ Phillipe cried.

  ‘My work here is done!’ the gecko cackled, as he leapt off the train.

  Phillipe peered desperately ahead. The train was fast approaching a signal pole so close to the tracks it would knock him off his precarious perch if he didn’t move – and fast!

  Scrabbling and scratching, Phillipe scrambled back up onto the train seconds before the signal pole whooshed past. Panting from the effort, he kissed the train roof, glad to be alive. Then he steeled himself and stood up.

  What Phillipe spotted next was a thousand times worse than any eye-licking gecko. The train was nearing a low-hanging bridge, with barely enough room for the carriages to pass underneath. There was no way his sizeable self was going to fit.

  Phillipe had to think quickly, which always made his head hurt. His eyes narrowed against the pain shooting through his brain.

  I can either flatten myself and risk death or . . . He shook his head. Nope, either way, I’m dead. What the heck!

  Phillipe began a run-up, then pronked higher than he’d ever pronked before, propelling himself over the bridge railing before landing on the road at a gallop.

  Horns honked. Angry motorists waved claws and paws and shouted.

  ‘I do apologise!’ Phillipe dodged vehicles, trying valiantly to keep up with the train as it passed under the bridge. He leapt over the other railing and landed on the roof of the second last carriage.

  ‘Time to stop this train.’

  The large red brick building of Central Station loomed in the distance as Phillipe ran to the front of the train. All trains ended at Central – there would be nowhere to go once they reached the platform, except straight through the platform. Phillipe hoped commuters were being evacuated. Helicopters hovered in the sky and sirens rang out, but there was still no sign of emergency services. It was strange, but Phillipe had no time to worry about it.

  He could still save the day.

  Phillipe spotted a ladder leading down to the driver’s cabin. He swung his legs over the roof and clambered down, wind rushing through his wool. Through the rubber-rimmed window on the side of the train, he saw the unconscious driver on the floor.

  A flashing red light on the instrument panel was pulsing:

  DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

  Phillipe tried kicking the door in, the kick-back nearly launching him off the train. He steadied himself then headbutted the window. It didn’t budge.

  Stars whirled in front of his eyes. Then, ‘Aha!’

  Phillipe tried the door handle. It opened instantly.

  ‘Oops.’ Phillipe grimaced as the door swung open. He ran inside, frantically scanning the control panel. ‘Where’s the brake?’ he screamed. ‘There!’

  Phillipe pressed the emergency brake button, but the train kept going.

  ‘It’s too late,’ he gasped. ‘We’ll never stop in time.’

  On the platform, commuters scattered, llamas running in all directions.

  Phillipe closed his eyes, preparing for impact. Then, finally, the brakes kicked in and the train screeched to a grinding halt, stopping less than a llama tail from the term
inal.

  Phillipe opened one eye. I’m still alive. He opened his other eye. I’m still alive and I can see out of both my eyes!

  Llamas pronked up and down, cheering as Phillipe slumped to the floor, exhausted. It was then that Phillipe remembered the driver. The llama looked blue in the face, like he’d stopped breathing.

  Phillipe crawled over and checked his pulse. It was there, but it was weak.

  Not knowing what else to do, Phillipe performed Llama Patient Resuscitation.

  Phillipe pressed his hooves onto the unconscious driver’s chest and pumped. ‘One, two, three. One, two, three.’

  The driver still wasn’t breathing. There was only one thing for it. Phillipe would have to perform mouth-to-mouth.

  He placed his lips over the driver’s. He tasted coffee and . . . chocolate chips.

  Phillipe pinched the unconscious llama’s nose and blew into his mouth. The driver’s lungs filled with air, causing him to cough and splutter. The cookie that had been stuck in his throat dislodged and flew into Phillipe’s mouth.

  What is this creamy, chocolatey deliciousness? he wondered, as he nibbled the cookie and helped the driver sit up.

  ‘You saved my life,’ the driver said. ‘How will I ever repay you?’

  ‘Send me a box of those cookies and we’ll call it even.’

  ‘Obviously, the train’s brakes were deliberately cut,’ Mama Llama said.

  Despite her senior years, Mama Llama was super smart and incredibly formidable. Once a top field agent herself, she now headed up LOL. She was well-known for her mean left leg kick, which all LOL agents knew to keep clear of.

  Phillipe was currently in Mama Llama’s office, eleven floors underground beneath Mount Killamamanjaro, where the agency’s headquarters was concealed.

  ‘This is a dangerous situation,’ Mama Llama continued. ‘The gecko goon on the runaway train at the same time as a massive robbery points to something – and someone – sinister. It’s our job to stop them before they do more damage. It’s a matter of national security.’

  ‘There was a bank robbery as well?’ Lloyd said.

  Lloyd Llamanator – aka Agent 0013 – was Phillipe’s best friend. He had a penchant for spitting, humming and, most of all, eating. Unfortunately for Lloyd and anyone who worked with him, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

  Mama Llama rolled her eyes. ‘For llama’s sake. Keep up. The runaway train was a distraction so the Camelid Bank could be robbed. I explained this.’

  ‘Did they take anything valuable?’ Lloyd asked.

  ‘Only fifty squillion dollars and some rare diamonds from a private vault,’ Mama Llama replied. ‘Did you not listen?’

  ‘Sorry. I’m a bit out of sorts. I noticed you got rid of your tasty, um, I mean comfortable sofa.’

  ‘It was old and ratty,’ Mama Llama huffed. ‘It looked like someone had been chewing it.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘That someone wouldn’t have been you, would it?’

  ‘Skree!’ Lloyd gave a mini llama alarm call and darted away. ‘Nope.’

  ‘If I find out who it was, they’ll be in trouble,’ Mama Llama said. ‘This new couch cost a fortune.’

  She scrawled a sign that read ‘NO EATING’ and taped it to the lounge.

  Lloyd glanced away. An umbrella plant in the corner caught his eye. ‘Hello, gorgeous. Where have you been all my life?’

  ‘My money’s on General Bottomburp,’ Phillipe said.

  General Ignatius Bottomburp was an odious badger and a criminal mastermind. He had a reputation for bottom burping, hating llamas and causing problems for LOL.

  ‘I agree,’ Mama Llama said, ‘but we can’t be sure until we’ve investigated further.’

  Lloyd tore a leaf off the plant then plopped it into his mouth, sucking silently.

  ‘I want you to visit the bank to see if you can find any clues,’ Mama Llama said.

  Phillipe nodded.

  Lloyd sucked.

  Literally.

  Phillipe turned to leave, but Mama Llama stopped him. ‘About that Llamaborghini you took to the Ballamas.’

  Phillipe gulped. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do that again and I’ll suspend you.’

  ‘Okay.’ Phillipe slumped with relief. That was close.

  ‘And to make sure you stay out of trouble, I’m sending Agent 0077 with you on this mission.’

  Phillipe coughed. ‘With all due respect, Lloyd and I can handle this on our own.’

  ‘I’m sure you can.’ Mama Llama smiled coldly. ‘But an extra pair of eyes and a functioning brain won’t hurt.’

  Mama Llama pressed a button on her desk before speaking into the intercom. Moments later, the door opened and in trotted Elloise Llamaresky, dressed in a navy suit, her slender ears flicking attractively.

  Music filled Phillipe’s head. Rainbow swirls and rose petals filled his vision.

  All the single llamas.

  All the single llamas.

  Now put your hooves up!

  Elloise ran to Mama Llama and bleated ‘Mama!’ before giving her a kiss.

  Mama Llama stiffened. ‘Elloise, you’ve forgotten yourself.’

  Phillipe’s spy senses twitched. What a strange way to greet your boss, he thought.

  Elloise smoothed her ears and apologised. She nodded coolly at Phillipe and Lloyd. ‘Good to see you again.’

  Phillipe felt something on his lip. Llama drool. He wiped it away quickly, hoping no one had noticed. ‘Hello, my lady.’ He bowed. ‘How can I be of service?’

  Mama Llama stared. ‘Phillipe, whatever is the matter?’

  ‘Nobody. I’m a llama.’ Phillipe kicked himself in the head. It was like he’d lost all control. ‘Forget I said anything.’

  Mama Llama sighed then reminded her agents that they were expected at the bank. ‘You’d better get a move on.’

  When the three agents arrived at the Camelid Bank in New Llama City, they found the manager, Millicent Llamarova, speaking to a well-dressed guinea pig. Millicent waved her hoof with great flourish. ‘This is Mr Itchee Kneebone,’ she informed the agents. ‘He’s a property developer and fine art collector, as well as a valued client of the bank.’

  Mr Kneebone bowed. The guinea pig was plump with splotches of brown, black and white fur. He wore gold-rimmed spectacles that magnified his eyes while one front tooth shone golden in the light.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you all.’ Itchee’s paws tapped together eagerly. ‘Ms Llamarova, my apologies, I must be off. I’m relieved that, despite the robbery, my precious items are safe. You can’t be too careful with these disturbing happenings all over the city.’ He gave an excited squeak. ‘Heavens knows where those rascals will strike next.’

  Millicent Llamarova escorted Mr Kneebone out before returning to the secret agents.

  ‘As you know, Miss Llamarova, we’re here to investigate the robbery,’ Phillipe said. ‘Can we take a look around?’

  Millicent sighed. ‘Absolutely, though I doubt you’ll find anything.’ She pointed the way to the vault. ‘The police have already been over everything with a fine-toothed comb.’

  The scene of the crime, the llamas discovered after making their way to the vault, was a large square room with high ceilings. Drawers and cupboards lined three walls, while in the middle of the room sat a desk surrounded by four chairs.

  Elloise nodded at a slender, wriggling shadow hanging from a cobweb in a corner of the ceiling. ‘What’s that?’

  Phillipe squinted, then held his hoof to his mouth, retching as he did so. ‘Oh my llama. It’s a leech.’

  Elloise frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s a leech,’ she said. ‘Lloyd, go ask Millicent for a ladder so we can take a closer look.’

  Lloyd tucked his chin in. ‘Sorry. I don’t do fetch.’

  ‘How about I stand on Lloyd’s shoulders and grab the little sucker instead?’ Phillipe suggested.