The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue
Page 33
‘The Sedleys were talking about it too,’ said Alfie. ‘It’s unreal!’ He started rummaging in his pockets and patting himself down. It’s that actor bloke, Hart. Ah, here it is!’ Alfie pulled a rumpled sheet of newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Ralf. ‘He only went and got his self kidnapped!’
ABDUCTED!
Fears grow for safety of actor, Charles Hart, after police reveal National Security connection.
In a statement released this morning, Scotland Yard confirm that Charles Hart had recently met with high ranking officials in the United States, after growing speculation...
‘I knew it!’ Leo exclaimed. ‘You don’t suppose –’
‘Come on,’ interrupted Alfie. ‘The meeting’s starting any minute. Shall we go and have a shufty?’
They edged round to the front of the Village Hall to see a group of men in the shelter of the porch, talking in hushed, serious voices, their hats pulled low. Near the open doorway Major Kingston-Hawke was in uniform under a greatcoat and was deep in conversation with Ron and Tom Arbuckle. Ralf took in the oddness of the scene. The Major did not normally socialise with the village men. Yet, here he was, hanging on every word the Arbuckles said.
‘Buzzing, innit!’ said Alfie cheerfully. ‘Look, here come the Feds.’
Sure enough, the familiar black Wolsely was inching down the freshly cleared High Street with a strained looking Burrowes behind the wheel. There was a tense moment as he tried to park and slid on the ice but eventually he managed it and emerged from the vehicle in gumboots and heavy overcoat to shake hands with Gloria’s father.
A signal from the major and the villagers broke their huddles and followed them in to the Hall.
‘Come on round the back. We might be able to hear what’s happening inside,’ said Alfie, trotting ahead of them.
They could see nothing but a blank brick wall and a small high window but their luck was, for once, in – the window was slightly open and, though the voices were faint, they were able to hear the men talking inside.
They were so focused on straining to hear what was going on inside the Hall that the sudden noise took them by surprise. There was a whooshing thud directly behind them and they all jumped.
‘Has it started?’
It was Valen, hair springing out of her plaits at all angles, looking tense.
‘What did you do that for?’ Alfie gasped. ‘You nearly gave me a blimmin’ heart-attack!’
But Ralf was in no mood for jokes. ‘Did you just Shift?’
‘How else was I supposed to get back here without being seen?’ she snapped. ‘The Hatchers are being right crabby again and I’m grounded. Not that you care!’
‘Val of course, we care –’ Leo began but Alfie cut him off.
‘Oi!’ he whispered. ‘It’s starting.’
A chair scraped on the stone hall floor and they heard Burrowes clearing his throat.
‘Gentlemen. First, I’d like to thank you for coming. As you’ve probably read in the press, we now have reason to believe that Charles Hart was kidnapped.
‘At the end of October, after an extensive intelligence operation, a Nazi operative, codename Fritz –’
‘That was imaginative,’ giggled Valen.
‘– was apprehended in Balham –’
Seth turned to Alfie. ‘They caught a spy in London,’ he explained. ‘Hart must’ve been taken by the Germans!’
‘I get it, okay. I’m not an idiot!’ said Alfie, witheringly. ‘Now Shhh! Some of us are trying to listen!’
‘...information gleaned under questioning pointed us to a farmhouse in the Tunbridge area. Unfortunately, we arrived too late. Evidence at the site confirms that Mr Hart was being held captive there by a person – or persons – unknown. However, by the time we got there the bird, as they say, had flown.’
Ralf heard mutters of ‘Shame!’ from the men in the Hall and craned his neck to get his ear closer to the window.
‘Indeed,’ Burrowes continued. ‘That aside, working on the information Fritz has given us – and he’s been most helpful since the consequences of silence were explained to him – the authorities feel sure Hart is still in the south of England and are continuing their investigations around Chax Forest itself.’
‘Why would they do a damn fool thing like that?’ asked a voice Ralf recognised as Frank Duke’s. Evidently he didn’t think much of Burrowes’ information. ‘Hart’s well away. Probably, locked in a dungeon in Berlin by now.’
Burrowes cleared his throat. ‘That’s one opinion. However, because of the state of National Emergency the borders are, of course, closed and Scotland Yard think it unlikely that the kidnappers were able to spirit Mr Hart out of the country.’
‘If you’ll allow me, Inspector,’ the Major interjected. ‘You all know Hart well and I’m sure you’ll want to do your best to help the investigation along. The Inspector has a strong suspicion that he may be nearby.’
‘Call it intuition, if you like,’ said Burrowes. ‘But I feel sure that Hart’s abductors are waiting, as we say in the trade, for ‘the heat to die down’.’
‘This gentlemen, is where we come in,’ said Major Kingston-Hawke. The muttering in the room died to nothing and the next time Gloria’s father spoke, his voice carried through the small window, crisp and clear. ‘Chax Forest covers several hundred acres and there are untold places where a man, or men, could remain hidden for any length of time. Between us, we are going to search every barn, outhouse, shed, warehouse, sheep shack and piggery within that area.’
‘As I said, we very much appreciate your time,’ said the Major, importantly. ‘The First Lord of the Admiralty himself, has spoken to me personally regarding our efforts – he is considerably worried about Mr Hart – and he’ll be watching developments closely.’
‘We’ve heard enough,’ said Ralf. ‘Let’s get away from here before we’re arrested.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Hunt for Hart
They made their way back to the Arbuckles and were removing their outer layers when Michael hobbled into the room on two padded crutches.
‘What have you lot been up to?’ he asked.
But no one had chance to answer because at that moment the latch rattled and the rest of the Arbuckles arrived back from the meeting.
‘You’re itching to know, aren’t you?’ said Tom, grinning.
Leo grinned back. ‘We know already.’
Ron laughed. ‘You crept round the back and listened at the window didn’t you?’
Old Bill settled himself by the fire and looked at Ralf eyes twinkling. ‘Well, I don’t suppose it matters much now. We’d have to tell ‘em when we go off out anyways.’
‘I’ve been wondering what happened to him,’ said Leo. ‘It’s about time they did something.’
‘For all the good it’ll do him,’ said Michael, when they’d told him about the search plans. He scratched underneath his leg plaster with a net needle as he looked out of the window. ‘That’s a lot o’ miles to cover. And it’s snowing again.’
‘You never know,’ said Bill. ‘We might be lucky. And there are a fair few of us.’
‘Is everyone helping, then?’ asked Valen.
‘Them’s as can,’ said Bill. ‘We’ve a soft spot for Mr Hart hereabouts and the Lord of the Admiralty, himself, is keepin’ an eye so we must be up to the task.’
‘Isn’t it strange that such an important person should take an interest in a missing actor Mr Arbuckle?’ Val asked.
‘Ah, but Churchill and Hart are old friends!’ said Ron.
‘You’re talking about Winston Churchill?’ Valen spluttered.
‘Aye, that’s what I said, Val,’ said Old Bill, surprised at having to explain himself. ‘You need to read the papers a bit more, girl.’
‘But how do they know each other then?’ asked Leo.
Ron looked up from where he was feeding more fuel into the fire. ‘Oh, it’s practically a King’s Hadow legend,’ he said. ‘Hart w
as Major Kingston-Hawke’s batman during the Great War.’
‘Batman?’ sniggered Alfie. ‘Like, the Caped Crusader?’
Ralf shook his head. ‘Like a kind of personal servant.’
‘He and Churchill served in the same regiment. I think the Major was Churchill’s Subaltern, wasn’t he Dad?’ asked Ron.
‘That’s right,’ said Old Bill. ‘Churchill was a right daredevil, leading forays in to no-man’s-land and one night he and the Major got into trouble. Churchill got caught out on the wire and Kingston-Hawke couldn’t get to him, so young Hart crawled out on his belly with wire cutters. Rescued him under enemy fire, he did. He was a real hero.’
‘Wow,’ said Alfie. ‘Serious.’
Old Bill further wrinkled his already craggy brow at Alfie’s peculiar way of talking and his two boys laughed.
‘It was very serious,’ said Old Bill. ‘But I wonder if what he’s been doing lately isn’t more important.’
‘You’ve lost me,’ said Alfie.
Ron tried to explain. ‘Hart’s very well known in America. Very respected. Friends in high places. Burrowes reckons those last months before he disappeared he was over there trying to convince the American higher-ups to come in on it.’
‘In on what?’ asked Val
‘The war, of course!’ said Tom.
‘It was more to do with supply lines, I’m thinking,’ said Old Bill.
‘How d’you mean, Mr Arbuckle?’ asked Valen.
‘We’re an island, Val. We need supplies. Food, materials, weapons – and all manner o’ things we don’t produce ourselves. Only the Americans have the resources to help us and get the convoys moving. I just hope Hart did enough to persuade them before he was taken.’
Leo was staring off into space again. His eyes were on the fire, Ralf noticed, but he could tell his brain was somewhere else entirely.
‘What’s the matter, Leo?’ he asked.
‘What? Oh, I was just wondering about that thing in the paper. Hart saying he was preparing for his most ‘challenging role.’ I wonder if that was what he meant.’
‘No one knows,’ said Tom. ‘All the more reason to find him.’
‘God help him, wherever he is, poor devil!’
‘And on that note, we better get cracking,’ said Ron, draining his cup. The Arbuckles headed out of the door and in to the driving snow.
Over the next few days, an extensive search of the woods and fields found no sign of the missing actor. The mood in the village became darker with each passing day. At the end of the week there was another brief meeting at the Village Hall. Ralf and the others didn’t need to listen in on this one, the message stuck on the village notice board afterwards told them everything they needed to know.
Kent and Sussex Constabulary would like to thank all volunteers for their help. Regretfully, however, due to continuing adverse weather conditions and what must now be considered a very slim possibility of finding anything, the decision has been taken to abandon the search with immediate effect.
‘I told you it was pointless,’ said Seth when they read it.
‘Yeah, you’re very smart,’ said Valen. ‘I feel sorry for Hart, though. It doesn’t seem right that they’ve just given up on him.’
‘No,’ frowned Leo. ‘No, it doesn’t.’
Ralf was sympathetic but was actually quite glad the search had been called off. It’s sad for the poor bloke and everything, he thought, but he felt better when the Echoes were all in the village.
January came and the snow melted as quickly as it had come. Ralf woke one morning to find the white fields patched with green and the cobbled streets made bubbling streams by the volume of melt water that sped down to the sea. The dramatic rise in temperature ought to have raised everyone’s spirits, but the blood bath at the Village party was still on everyone’s lips and the Kemps, who seemed to attract ‘ghosts’ like bees to honey, had seen Marcus Junius, the Roman cavalry officer three times since Christmas.
A second dead fox appeared in the Church basement and twice the Church bells rang at midnight despite it being empty and locked. Villagers looked to the treetops, which were heavy with birds once more and stepped gingerly through sheltered paths where fat rats now ran freely. No one spoke about the animals that disappeared but for the first time ever dogs were walked on leads and cats kept in at night.
The Police and ARP decided that all manner of disturbances should be kept under wraps but despite their secrecy the whole village seemed to know about the increasing number of night-time wailings and crashes at Urk’s farm, the Sedleys’ and Hawke’s Manor. War news was bad with the joy at the British capture of the German ship Altmark being quickly overshadowed by news of Finland’s capitulation to the Russians.
On top of everything else, the rivalry between village and Crispin’s boys had returned with a vengeance. Ralf had thought that things would be better after the truce at the Christmas Party but the holiday, it seemed, had merely provided both groups with ample time to strategize. On the first morning of the new term a gang from the school ambushed two of the Hoad’s Farm lads and gave them such appalling bog-washes in the train loo that they were left drenched and heaving. The following day, an entire compartment full of Crispin’s boys was spit-balled in revenge.
As the term progressed normal school boy pranks took a more sinister and malicious turn. One morning Will Tomkins had to run the gauntlet of Crispin’s boys at the station as they darted up to boot his backside. No one laughed as they did this though and the kicks were well aimed and far too hard. Leo had, to much jeering, removed the ‘Kick Here ↓’ sign that had been taped to Will’s back. Dozens of adults had seen what was happening but they breezed by or smiled faintly. Shouldn’t someone in authority be doing something, thought Ralf. Did they not realise how bad things were or was it just that they didn’t care?
To make matters even worse Ralf was exhausted. Money was still very tight and trying to compensate for December’s poor fishing he was now out on The Sara Luz five or six nights a week. The hard labour on the boat and mental weariness of agonising over Gloria’s El Cub Rat Rah message started to take their toll in February. By March, he was getting through the school day on automatic, hardly speaking in any of his lessons and paying only minimal attention.
It was coming up to Easter and he was in a kind of sleepwalk, oblivious to the driving rain outside, when he was jerked awake by Will Tomkins who shouted and pointed at the school’s main notice board.
‘Ralf! Ralf you’ve got to look at this!’
KING’S HADOW AND DARK FERRY DISTRICT RUN
Six Mile Cross Country Event,
Saturday 27th April - 10 am.
Sponsor Forms available from the Bursar’s Office.
There was a sign-up sheet below. Ralf’s fingers were drifting towards the attached pencil when he woke up and remembered who and what he was and the enormous task ahead of him. As his hand dropped back to his side King drifted past with his usual gang.
‘Oh look, everyone!’ King cried. ‘Osborne’s going to sign up for the cross-country. Are you sure you’re up to it, old chap? You’re looking terribly peaky. Six miles is a long way to run on an empty stomach, you know.’
Ralf seethed. ‘I’m not running,’ he said.
King paused and swung the cricket bat he was carrying up onto his shoulder. He did an exaggerated double take. ‘You know something, Osborne?’ he said. ‘You’re pathetic.’
‘And how do you work that out, Julian?’ Ralf asked. He should be walking away from this, but his pride just wouldn’t let him.
‘You were supposed to be this amazing person! The highest entrance exam score in the history of the school. An intellectual giant! And your sporting achievements! The running! First place in the Village Mile wasn’t it? Your sister’s full of it – when she’s not scrubbing floors!’
Ralf’s fists clenched.
‘You were supposed to be this boy prince!’ King sniggered derisively. ‘But you’re just a coward.
’
A crowd had gathered by this time as boys were drawn to listen to King’s tirade. The taller boy glanced round at his audience and then back at Ralf whose cheeks were burning horribly.
‘Excuses won’t wash!’ He reached out with the cricket bat and nudged Ralf’s shoulder hard enough to make him take a step, then looked round again at the assembled boys, shaking his head. ‘It’s just not cricket!’
Ralf chuntered to himself all the way to his next lesson – History with an over excited Winters. Great!
Winters, with an impish grin, gestured towards a long table covered in a lumpy white sheet, which stood at the front of the classroom.
‘Behold!’ the master cried. With deliberate melodrama he whipped the white covering from the table to reveal a dozen or so items from the Tarzy Wood Barrow site. Ralf groaned inwardly, he just wanted to lose himself in a book.
‘There’s someone from the British Museum coming to collect it all in the next couple of weeks,’ said Winters, ‘so I thought we’d have a final nose around before they got here. It’s been so interesting documenting it all, hasn’t it Seth?’
Seth gave an embarrassed cough. ‘Awfully,’ he said.
A couple of the boys sniggered taking this for sarcasm, but King, Tank and Aston threw contemptuous stares.
‘Right, gather round, everyone!’ said Winters enthusiastically.
‘The thing is, boys, this whole site is a bit of a mystery. The more we find out, the more of a puzzler it seems.’
‘Why’s that, sir?’ Aston asked with a yawn.
‘I’m glad you asked me that, Aston,’ Winters replied, ignoring his tone. ‘You see, here we’ve got the usual Celtic broaches you’d expect from a site such as this, but over here there’s a knife that has an Ottoman feel to it, see the curved blade? And here we have metalwork that could easily be early Viking. Most interesting of all, though, is this item.’