by Rob Childs
‘Taffy seems harmless enough,’ said Gareth. ‘He was so pleased when I explained I was named after him because of Gramps. I think they were sort of partners-in-crime here as schoolmates – always sneaking off together and getting into scrapes.’
‘Exactly,’ Tom muttered.
‘Reckon that’s why old Taffy let on about the secret tunnel under his statue,’ put in Adam, ignoring Tom’s interruption. ‘Y’know, boastin’ like, so we’d tell your gramps about it, too.’
‘Hope that’s not where Eddie’s gone now,’ said Gareth, suddenly worried. ‘He wouldn’t go down there to explore it by himself, would he?’
‘Nah! Even Wonder Boy’s not that daft,’ Adam scoffed, but then had second thoughts. ‘Is he…?’ By the time the trio got back to their dormitory, Eddie had changed into his kit and was already running through the trees towards the statue by the lake.
‘Wonder if Taffy was telling the truth about the tunnel,’ he mused.
A few minutes later, he halted in front of the statue to have a closer look. It showed the muscular figure in his prime, medals draped around his neck, posing with a discus clutched in one huge hand and a javelin held aloft in the other.
Carved into the base in capital letters was the athlete’s name and proud title.
‘Can’t be bad, having that on your statue,’ Eddie murmured, impressed.
He was tempted to test out what Taffy had said about the statue, but he had another aim in mind tonight. He stared across the water at the island and then continued his run along the edge of the lake past the chapel until he arrived at the derelict boathouse.
To Eddie’s relief, its only occupant, a rowing boat, appeared to be in reasonable condition. He dragged it into the water and clambered in. The fact that it was still floating ten metres from the bank boosted his confidence.
‘Not sunk yet, anyway,’ he grunted, pulling awkwardly on the single oar.
The boat turned in a clumsy circle before he managed to control it better and he soon bumped into the island.
Eddie scrambled out, getting his shoes full of water in the process, and heaved the boat up onto the grassy bank. Although the island was well screened from the Old Manor, he made sure he kept out of sight in the shelter of the trees. He bent to examine the group of seven white crosses more closely and saw that each had a small brass plate with an engraved code number, starting with T1. ‘Wonder why they don’t have names?’ he murmured.
After learning that Taffy was still alive, Eddie had thought that this might be a pet cemetery, but now he ruled out that, too. One thing he did discover, however, was that there was a missing number in the sequence. There was no T3.
His curiosity now satisfied, Eddie decided to head back before he was found out. The return trip was not without mishap and he breathed a sigh of relief when he finally got out of the wobbly boat.
‘Pity I lost that,’ he murmured, staring at the oar, which was now tangled in a clump of reeds out of reach.
Eddie turned and jogged back towards the house to the accompaniment of his squelching shoes, but his absence had not gone unnoticed.
‘Been paddling, have you, laddie?’
Eddie had been jogging across the courtyard when Blackbeard stepped out from the dark archway of the main entrance. He stopped in his tracks and his heart sank at the prospect of another ducking in the pool.
‘Er… I’ve just been out for a run, Coach,’ he began. ‘I got permission from…’
Blackbeard cut him short. ‘So I’ve heard, Peters. And I’ve also been told you could be dyslexic.’
‘Yes, sorry, Coach, I can’t help it, like…’
‘Not your fault, laddie,’ Blackbeard said before making a startling admission. ‘So is Taffy Jones.’ After a hot shower, Eddie found his roommates in the games room and he had to explain what he’d been up to in rather more detail. He also told them about his encounter with Blackbeard.
‘You were taking a huge risk,’ said Tom, who had a glass of green juice in his hand as he watched the others playing table football.
‘Not really. Blondie said I could go.’
‘Yes, go running, not messing about in a boat.’
‘Just wanted to check things out, that’s all,’ Eddie said with a shrug. ‘Wonder what the letter T on the crosses stands for?’
‘T for Taffy?’ Gareth suggested. ‘But then why isn’t there a T3, like you said?’
‘C’mon, are you playin’ or not, GG?’ Adam said impatiently.
‘I’m listening to Eddie.’
‘Huh! Just ’cos you’re losin’.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are. It’s 3–2 to me.’
‘Wonder if Taffy actually owns this place,’ Eddie said, cutting across their argument.
Adam sighed. ‘Here we go, another theory from Wonder Boy. First you have him dead and buried, and now you’ve got him down as the big boss man.’
‘Well, what do you think, Mr Know-It-All?’
As Gareth sent the next ball onto the table, Adam twisted his handle grip sharply and one of the footballers spun and smacked the metal ball into the goal with a loud clunk.
‘4-2!’ he cried.
‘Offside!’ claimed Gareth.
‘Rubbish!’ Adam scoffed. ‘There’s no such thing as offside in this.’
‘It still doesn’t count. I wasn’t ready.’
‘So what do you think, Foxy?’ said Tom. ‘C’mon, let’s have your great theory.’
‘Ain’t got one,’ Adam admitted, ‘but if you must know, Old Taffy gives me the creeps, the way he prowls about the place. And ’cos I know he was lyin’ last night when I asked him about Jacko. Y’know, that kid I palled up with at Easter – the one I told you got took away.’
‘What did Taffy say?’ asked Eddie.
‘He reckoned he knew nothin’ about him – but I saw ’em together in the Jeep.’
‘Where do you think they were going?’ put in Gareth.
‘No idea,’ Adam grunted. ‘But I bet it wasn’t a ride home.’
Chapter Six
The Statue
‘Thought this was meant to be a summer camp!’ moaned Gareth, resting on his bunk after Friday’s fitness sessions. ‘It’s hardly stopped raining since we got here.’
Due to the bad weather, the boys had endured an extra workout in the gym under the demanding eye and sharp tongue of Petit Pierre. Even when the sun did break through for a short time, it was a frustrating experience for most of the athletes. Runners and jumpers were hampered by the wet conditions, while the throwers had to keep drying the equipment to help their grip on the javelin, shot and discus.
‘Blondie said the forecast is better for the weekend,’ Eddie told his roommates. ‘At least it should be fine for the Open Day.’
‘So what about tomorrow, then, guys?’ said Adam. ‘That’s our best chance.’
‘For what?’ said Tom, coming into the room.
‘I’m talkin’ about the statue,’ said Adam. ‘Y’know, checkin’ it out, like.’
‘Sounds a bit dodgy, if you ask me,’ said Tom, pulling a face.
‘Nobody’s askin’ you,’ Adam replied and turned back to the others. ‘Look, we’ve got trainin’ in the mornin’, then we’re free. The coaches have Sat’day afternoon off.’
‘Bet Blackbeard stays here,’ Eddie muttered. ‘He’s never off duty.’
‘Even so,’ Adam went on, ‘I reckon we can still sneak away.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Gareth. ‘But after all this rain, we could be up to our necks in water down that tunnel.’
‘If it exists,’ Eddie added.
‘At least it’s worth a look, eh?’ said Adam. ‘What d’yer say, guys?’
‘OK,’ agreed Gareth, reluctantly.
‘Sure,’ Eddie said with a shrug.
‘You must be mad,’ muttered Tom. ‘C’mon, let’s get to that dining room. It’s fish and chips tonight and I’m starving.’
The clock on the talle
st tower of the Old Manor struck twice on the Saturday afternoon as the four boys stood in front of the larger-than-life statue of the young Taffy Jones.
‘Don’t look much like he does now,’ muttered Adam.
‘I bet Gramps will still recognise him if he shows up tomorrow,’ said Gareth.
‘Wonder what they’ll say to each other after all those years,’ said Eddie.
Tom checked back nervously towards the house, glad that trees were shielding the statue from view. He still didn’t really know why he had agreed to join in, apart from not wanting to be left out. ‘Just hope nobody has followed us,’ he murmured.
‘Quit witterin’, will yer, Tom-Tom,’ Adam snapped. ‘Let’s do it.’
Taffy had told them how to gain entrance to the tunnel but Adam did not really expect anything to happen. He stamped on the stone discus at the base of the statue, tilting it at an angle. Then, with the grating noise of a rusty mechanism, the front of the plinth began to slide slowly forward.
‘Open, sez me!’ Adam whooped in triumph.
‘It’s not very big,’ said Tom, peering at the black hole beneath the statue.
‘Big enough for a secret passage,’ replied Adam, shining a torch down it. ‘Reckon even you can squeeze in there, if you hold your belly in a bit.’ He led the way, dropping to the ground and squirming backwards into the hole until he stubbed his toes against something solid. ‘Ladder!’ he cried. ‘Just like Taffy said.’
A dim light suddenly shone from the hole.
‘Good, Foxy’s found the switch as well,’ said Gareth. ‘Taffy told us the tunnel was discovered when his statue was put up. He thinks it must’ve been dug out centuries ago, but he had it all wired up with electric light.’
One by one, they copied Adam’s entry technique and joined him in a small chamber before shuffling off, half-crouched, down a low, narrow channel with damp walls and a wet, sloping floor.
‘We must be going right under the lake,’ breathed Eddie.
‘Good job it hasn’t flooded,’ hissed Tom. ‘I can’t swim, remember.’
‘If the roof gets any lower, I’ll be doing the crawl,’ panted Gareth, who was already bent double.
Fortunately for all of them, the tunnel became a little higher and also drier as it began to climb upwards, before coming to an abrupt halt.
‘Dead end?’ said Eddie, staring at the wall in front of them. ‘It’s been bricked up.’
‘Must be a way out somehow,’ said Adam. ‘Start lookin’, gang.’
They probed the tunnel walls until Tom found a small lever tucked into a recess in the rock. As he gave it a tug, two things happened. First, all the lights went out and the boys were plunged into blackness – then a welcome shaft of daylight appeared as a section of the brick wall began to creak open. The relieved group scrambled through the gap and along a short tunnel, which emerged in a wood.
‘Looks like an old mineshaft,’ observed Gareth, glancing back at the overgrown exit. ‘It’s well camouflaged. You’d be lucky to find it again amongst all these trees.’
‘Belt up, GG!’ said Adam. ‘I can hear voices.’
They all listened.
‘Coming from over there,’ Gareth said, pointing to the right. ‘Let’s go and see.’
‘Think we should?’ Eddie whispered. ‘I mean, we don’t want to get done.’
‘Done?’ Adam repeated. ‘Who’s gonna do us, Wonder Boy?’
Eddie shrugged. ‘Well, we could be trespassing on private property.’
Adam ignored him. ‘Just break off some branches as we go through the wood so we can follow the trail back here,’ he ordered before striding away.
It wasn’t long before their progress was halted again – this time by a high, mesh fence with lengths of barbed wire stretched along the top.
‘Guess they don’t want anybody to get in,’ said Gareth.
‘Or out,’ muttered Adam.
The boys followed the line of the fence as best they could, though they were hampered by the undergrowth, which was full of nettles.
‘Look!’ cried Eddie when they gained their first clear view. ‘Another track!’
They stared through the fence at an athletics track, where a group of young runners were training.
‘You sure we haven’t somehow stumbled back to B.A.S.E. Camp?’ said Tom.
‘Positive. Our track has six lanes,’ Eddie told him. ‘This one’s only got four.’
‘So who are these guys?’ Adam demanded.
In response, Eddie let out a gasp of surprise. ‘Well, for a start, there’s that kid who got me into all that trouble.’
‘Which one is he?’ asked Tom.
‘The one out in front, of course.’
‘Thought you didn’t get a good look at him,’ Adam sneered.
‘Not his face, but I’d know that running style anywhere. That’s definitely him.’
Adam had recognised somebody, too. ‘And I know the one who’s behind him!’ he said, nodding.
‘Who is it?’ asked Gareth.
‘Jacko.’
‘What’s he doing here?’
‘Dunno,’ Adam muttered, ‘but I sure intend to find out.’
Chapter Seven
A.C.E.
The four boys kept out of sight among the trees as they watched the runners finish their training and flop down for a brief rest not far from the fence. The presence of a coach, however, made an attempt at contact too risky.
Led by Adam, they crept along the fringe of the wood instead, until they came to a single-track road and padlocked gates.
‘There’s a notice on the gates,’ said Eddie.
‘Advanced Centre of Excellence,’ Tom read out. ‘Huh! The initials spell A.C.E.’
‘Sure puts us in our place at B.A.S.E. Camp, eh?’ Gareth muttered. ‘These kids here must be a cut above.’
‘They’ll have to prove it first,’ said Adam.
‘I think one of them already has,’ Tom said, winking at Eddie.
Before Eddie could respond, Adam came to a decision. ‘C’mon, gang, let’s go back,’ he urged. ‘Gotta speak to Jacko somehow. He’ll tell us what’s goin’ on here.’
That was easier said than done. The A.C.E. athletes were now doing stretching exercises further away from the fence, so Adam began jumping up and down, waving his arms, to attract Jacko’s attention.
It wasn’t only Jacko who noticed him. Adam’s antics were spotted by a number of the athletes, making them point and laugh. The coach turned to detect the source of the distraction, but Adam had already dived for cover in the undergrowth.
‘Did he see you?’ Tom demanded from his hiding place behind a tree.
‘Jacko? Yeah, think so.’
‘I meant the coach.’
Gareth peeped through the bushes. ‘It’s OK. He’s making them do press-ups now. Punishment for laughing, I bet.’
‘Don’t this lot have any free time?’ said Eddie. ‘I mean, it is Saturday afternoon.’
‘Probably lucky if they even get time to eat,’ Adam said with a smirk. ‘Pity poor old TomTom if he got sent here!’
After about ten more minutes of exercises, the coach ended the session and the group broke up. Most of the athletes wandered off, but two of them began to play with a tennis ball, tossing it back and forth as they jogged around the track.
‘Jacko’s headin’ this way,’ Adam grinned. ‘Knew he would.’
‘And look who’s coming with him,’ Eddie muttered.
Jacko deliberately let the ball go past him and then kicked it into the long grass near the fence so that they would have to go and search for it.
‘Watcha, Jacko!’ Adam greeted him.
‘Thought it was you, Foxy, dancing about like a nutcase.’
‘What the hell are you doin’ here?’
‘I’ve been here since Easter. Thought they were going to throw me out for calling that old man “the prowler”, but they brought me here instead. I’ve been doing loads of running,’ he sai
d, and then nodded towards Eddie. ‘Just like your new mate, I gather.’
Eddie hadn’t taken his eyes off the other lad, who had now found the ball.
‘Hey! Wonder Boy!’ said Adam. ‘Bet you can’t beat Jacko over 400 metres.’
‘Maybe not,’ Eddie replied sourly, ‘but I’d like to have another race against his pal.’
The black-haired boy chuckled, flipping the ball casually from hand to hand as they all stared at him.
‘We met before, man?’ said Adam. ‘You look kinda familiar.’
The boy spoke for the first time. ‘You most likely heard my name,’ he said in a lilting voice.
‘And what’s that?’
‘Taffy Jones,’ he replied, enjoying their surprised reaction. ‘But everybody calls me YT.’
‘YT?’ repeated Tom.
‘Yeah – Young Taffy!’ he giggled.
Gareth was the first to respond. ‘So are you Old Taffy’s grandson or something?’
‘Or something…’
Eddie wasn’t satisfied with that answer. ‘And what does that mean exactly?’
Young Taffy grinned. ‘Don’t know if you lot are ready for the exact bit yet. What do you think, Jacko?’
Jacko shrugged. ‘Might as well tell ’em, YT.’
‘Yeah, why not?’ he agreed. ‘Don’t suppose they’ll believe me, anyway.’
‘Try us,’ grunted Tom.
‘OK, then,’ he said. ‘I’m not his grandson – or even his son. I am Taffy Jones…’
Adam butted in. ‘You’ve already told us yer name.’
‘You’re not listening to what I’m saying,’ he replied calmly. ‘I’m him and he’s me.’
‘That don’t make no sense, man.’
‘It does if you’re a clone!’
Beeeeeeeppp !
The intruders had no chance to recover from their shock at such a revelation, nor ask any further questions. The long blast on the coach’s whistle was quickly followed by two more.
‘You’ve been spotted,’ cried Jacko. ‘Leg it – fast!’
As the others turned to go, Adam hesitated. ‘You ain’t seen the last of us, Taffy Boy,’ he promised. ‘We’ll be back.’