Archer's Mystery At Mainswell

by Edward Fisher

  ‘Phew,’ called out James. ‘Do you mind if we stop for a minute? My ankle’s killing me.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Mark. ‘There’s a gateway ahead. We can pull in there for a while.’

  As they leant on their cycles a few minutes later, Mark and James began to relate their story from earlier in the day. It took quite some time to tell and Rebecca listened avidly, especially to the part in which the chubby-faced man returned to the windmill. Archer lay on the floor paying scant regard to the boy’s story. He wasn’t really interested in their adventure. He had more important things to think about, and the break in the journey meant he had a few minutes to try and sort out his thoughts. Archer was now increasingly concerned about the one particularly puzzling aroma. It concerned him because, unlike the youths, he sensed the gravity of the situation: he sensed danger, and danger with a capital ‘D’.

  ‘So, do you think it was the same chap we saw down on the road?’ Rebecca asked.

  ‘Yeah, I think it was, and I think something else too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, its only a feeling, but I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere else. I’ve spent all afternoon thinking about it, but I can’t remember where I’ve seen him.’

  Archer looked up with the kind of expression that said, ‘I can’.

  Chapter 16

  It took a long while for the trio to cycle home. James found that the further they went, the more his ankle hurt. Eventually he had to dismount and take off his shoe to investigate why he was in such pain. Once his sock was removed it was evident to all of them that the pain was due to a huge, dark, angry bruise that covered most of the ankle. Gingerly, James bent to touch the bruised area. He winced in pain at the slightest touch.

  ‘You need to get that in some cold water, and quickly!’ Rebecca commented, with a degree of concern in the tone of her voice.

  ‘Hmm. Do you think it’s broken?’ James looked at her as he propped himself up on his one good leg. Fortunately the farm gate was sturdy and more than capable of taking the boy’s weight.

  ‘I don’t know. It could be, but you can stand on it, can’t you?’ she responded.

  Carefully, and oh so slowly, James lowered the injured foot to the ground. Delicately he began to place his weight on to the foot. After a while he stood upright, and said, ‘Well, I can stand on it and it’s not too bad. It’s just trying to move it that hurts.’

  ‘I doubt if it’s broken then.’ Rebecca’s voice was not quite so sympathetic as it had been earlier in the conversation. ‘From what I’ve seen from broken ankles over the years, and I’ve seen a few at the farm, you wouldn’t be standing on it like that if you had one.’

  ‘You sure?’ James quipped.

  ‘No, but if it’s broken I’ll give you a fiver. The thing to do is get the swelling down. We must get that ankle in some cold water.’

  ‘How far to the farm?’ asked Mark. Up until this point he had watched the conversation, not really listening, with his mind on other things. Like Archer, there was something that was troubling him; it had nothing to do with scents, but it did have a lot to do with danger.

  ‘A mile and a half - two miles maybe.’

  ‘Look, it’s pretty unlikely that James will be able to cycle that far back from here. Not only that, but quite a bit of it is uphill, so that means more pressure on that ankle. A downhill ride he might manage, but no way is he going to cope with the steep incline into the village. That’s bad enough with two good legs.’

  ‘You’re right, Mark.’ James had forgotten the hill, but he realised now that it was a hopeless quest for him to undertake in his current situation. ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘Well,’ continued Mark after the briefest of pauses, ‘I think Bec should go on ahead of us, and take Archer with her. She could then come back for us in the horse and cart. There’d be enough room for two bikes and a wounded soldier in the back. That way, when we get back to the farm, we can go straight up to the tents and Uncle Jack won’t know what’s happened. If he finds out, he might stop us going out like this again. How does that sound?’

  ‘It sounds good to me. What about you, Bec?’

  ‘Fine, but what if Dad asks me any questions?’

  ‘Just say you’re going to take the horse for a walk, and you might get a few things in the village. We can pick up some stuff from the shop on the way back.’

  ‘Okay. But don’t go riding off while I’m gone. It’ll be best if you stay here. Come on, Archer.’

  The girl swung her bike out into the road and began to cycle off. Archer rose from the ground and in a moment was trotting beside her.

  ‘How long do you reckon she’ll be?’ James asked when she’d disappeared around the first corner.

  ‘Say ten minutes back to the farm, ten minutes to saddle up the horse, and ten minutes back. Half an hour minimum, I should say.’

  ‘Oh, right. Mind if we sit down here? My leg’s killing me.’

  ‘Okay, but sit up on the verge, just in case any vehicles come by. I’ll move the bikes up too.’

  With that the boys settled down to await Rebecca’s return. Almost as soon as they were settled, James voiced the very thing that both boys had been worrying about.

  ‘Mark, I don’t know who that guy is we saw come back to the windmill, and I don’t know what he’s got stashed below the floor there, but I’ve got a horrible feeling we’ve stumbled into something pretty big.’

  ‘Hmm, I was thinking the same back there while you were showing your ankles off to Bec. Whatever that guy is involved in, it’s not simple burglary - all this secrecy of storing stuff at the windmill, and that’s what I reckon he’s doing. And there’s something else. That guy’s definitely someone I’ve seen before.’

  ‘Yeah, I was thinking that. He’s sort of familiar, but I can’t think where from.’

  ‘No, nor can I at the moment. And there’s another thing that’s vital, too. ‘

  ‘Yeah, what?’ James shifted position, trying to reduce the pain in his ankle.

  ‘Well, they’ve got a barn somewhere, and we haven’t found that.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Well, what if that guy went from the windmill to the barn, and then came back with some stuff?’

  ‘Well, what if he did?’

  ‘Well, first of all it tells us how far away the barn can be, and secondly it could mean that he’s closing up the barn and moving everything to the windmill.’

  ‘Or at least some things he doesn’t want his partner to know about.’

  ‘Could be, but I doubt it. My bet is that they’re moving the stuff in the barn to the windmill. I’ll bet they think the barn isn’t safe any more, for whatever reason.’

  ‘So, the factory is moving house?’

  ‘Yeah. In which case that bag probably contained stolen goods, which will be at the windmill for a bit and then moved on.

  There was a pause in the conversation while James rubbed his ankle tenderly.

  ‘Blast,’ said Mark after a couple of minutes.

  ‘What?’ said James, as he looked up at Mark.

  ‘We should’ve looked under the trapdoor to see what was down there.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It just might have helped put some pieces of this puzzle together.’ Mark sounded cross with himself.

  ‘Maybe, but I’ll bet that the bloke would’ve known we’d opened the trapdoor. Remember his comments about the scuff marks?’

  ‘True, and I guess we don’t want to frighten them off, do we?’

  ‘Nope. Funny thing, though...’ James began and then seemed to drift off into his own thoughts. A few minutes of anguished, painful, silence passed before he spoke again. ‘It may be nothing, but a funny thought has occurred to me.’

  ‘What?’ Mark had been lost in his own thoughts and was somewhat surprised by his brother’s comment.

  ‘A funny thought. That bloke in the windmill, well, and it’s probably nothing, but he looked a lot like the guy we saw on the train.
I was just thinking back to our journey here and that chap running from the train. It’s just that they both looked so alike.’

  ‘Brilliant!’ Mark was genuinely enthusiastic, and he patted his brother on the shoulder, none to gently. ‘That’s brilliant! I knew I’d seen him before, and now I know where. So he gets off the train – what, about twenty or so miles away - and then he turns up here in Mainswell.’

  ‘Yeah, so how did he get here?’

  ‘It seems obvious now, although that’s what’s been puzzling me. You’ve noticed his features; short, chubby face and so on. I’ve been trying to link voices, and I’d wager that he’s the driver of the van we saw last night. That voice we heard down in the windmill earlier on sounded just like the voice on the train. So, somewhere about twenty miles from Mainswell he had a van, and that’s probably where he lives.’ Mark sounded excited.

  ‘Not so fast, Mark. If it’s the same bloke, then why did he jump the train? After all, he could have left the van at the previous station and got off there without drawing any attention to himself.’

  ‘True. But what if his boss - Harry wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What if Harry lives near where he got off the train, and Harry provided him with the van?’

  ‘It could be, or it could be chubby-face’s van which he’d left at Harry’s.’

  ‘That’s less likely, because Harry wouldn’t want to be involved if the van was spotted on a job or something.’

  ‘Okay, so chubby-face has been to see Harry, borrowed a van, or stolen it, and he’s using it to get around. Except that this afternoon he was driving a car. So, chubby-face has a car too. Incidentally it’s not the one that was in the road last night, the engine sound is all different.’ James looked thoughtful.

  ‘James, I’ve got a further thought. What if Harry and chubby-face are one and the same person?’

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘Because I’ll bet that the other guy involved has never seen Harry, and it would be a perfect cover for chubby-face to pretend that he was only a middle man, not the boss.’

  ‘Okay, Mark, I’ll go along with that. So chubby-face has a place near where he jumped the train.’

  ‘No, I don't think so. I think he jumped train because he couldn’t afford to risk being seen at Mainswell. I think chubby-face wants to stay as inconspicuous as possible. In fact -’ there was a pause, ‘- I have an idea, but I need a minute or so to think it through.’

  With that there was a two-minute pause.

  ‘Got it!’ said Mark at last. ‘Harry and chubby-face are one and the same, so I’ll call him Harry from now on. Harry is a crook. It looks like he can get hold of some kind of drugs and he’s also running a series of burglaries in this area. The other guy works for him but doesn’t really know who he is. It’s the other guy who is doing the burglaries and Harry is paying him for results. Some of the goods need to be disguised in some way, hence the factory, and the two of them are involved in that together. Harry is also getting rid of the stolen property, which he was storing at a barn, though he’s now moving it to the windmill. I’ll bet he’s using the money he gets from the burglaries to buy the drugs, and he’s got plans to sell them on too. What was it he said about the powder?’

  ‘Something about it having to be mixed with something else and treated carefully otherwise it would be ruined.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s got hold of some pure white powder and it has to be mixed with something so he can sell it on.’

  ‘My god, if you’re right this is big. Shouldn’t we go to the police or something?’

  ‘Probably, but most of this is only theory; they’d probably just laugh at us. We need to have something more tangible, some real evidence.’

  ‘Yeah, and how do we get that?’

  ‘We don’t. For a start your ankle is too swollen to let you walk far, let alone cycle or run. For another thing, I have no real idea what to look for next.’ Mark was lying, but he wasn’t going to divulge any more of his thoughts on the matter.

  ‘And there’s one other thing. We still have the other bloke to think about. We don't know who he is.’

  ‘That’s true, but I’ll guess he’s from hereabouts. Look, here comes Bec.’

  Chapter 17

  The horse and cart came to a standstill and in a few minutes the bikes were stored and the boys had climbed on board. On the way back Mark sat next to Rebecca and explained his theories to her. They had just reached the farm when his cousin turned to him. Her face was grave and she spoke in quiet tones.

  ‘Mark, this is really serious. You’ve got to know something really important.’

  ‘What?’ He looked back at her. If he had been a little less intense he might have sensed what was coming.

  ‘Your father phoned and he wants you to ring him back.’ She roared with laughter and the boys joined in too, grateful that the joke had broken the tension of the situation.

  Once inside the farm, Mark wandered off to the farmhouse to make his telephone call while the others rode off towards the tents.

  It was some time later when Mark came out of the farmhouse. His face was serious. Rebecca walked round from the stables.

  ‘Hi, is everything all right? she called out.

  ‘No, not exactly. Dad wanted to know what the hell was going on and I’ve had a real job explaining things to him to set his mind at ease. He got all my messages and he wasn’t best pleased about the drawings I sent back to him, but at least he now recognises his PC isn’t secure. That little box of tricks of his is actually quite brilliant. It allows you to mark your property invisibly with a special marker and then the detector tunes into the marker chemicals. It can detect the property from quite some distance away by bouncing a certain type of radio wave off the chemical. I didn’t understand it all, but it sounds pretty clever to me. How’s James?’

  ‘Not too bad. He’s got his foot in a bowl of cold tap water and Archer is sitting there with him looking very concerned. I think he’ll be all right but it may be a couple of days before he’s able to walk far.’

  ‘Damn. On the other hand it may be a good thing. Look, I want to have a snoop around here. Archer was interested in something the other day. Tom’s not in, is he?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘I don’t know, nothing probably - just a feeling. Which shed was he in the other day, sharpening those blades?’

  ‘This one.’

  The girl pointed to the shed door and Mark went up to it and gently opened it. The door opened a few inches and Mark waited, listening for sounds from within. Silence. He pushed the door further open. Still silence. He eased in through the opening and his cousin followed. He shut the door. The shed was dimly lit from a murky, dusty window. Mark felt around him carefully. He went over to the workbench and looked at it.

  ‘Is Tom a good worker?’

  ‘Yes, till about two months ago when he pulled his back lifting something. Since then his back has played him up quite a lot. Why?’

  ‘Well, would you say he was a tidy worker, always clearing up after himself?’

  ‘No. He keeps things in order, like tools in the right place. But he doesn’t spend ages clearing things up.’

  ‘Exactly. The window is dirty and this bench hasn’t been swept properly in ages.’

  ‘So?’ Rebecca was finding it hard to keep up with Mark.

  ‘Well, he was in here sharpening the thresher blades yesterday, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he told you that himself.’

  ‘I know that’s what he said, but there’s no little pieces of metal below the grinding tool here.’

  ‘But we heard him doing it.’ Rebecca sounded confident.

  ‘No we didn’t. We heard the grinding wheel going round. Perhaps he wasn’t actually sharpening the blades. Perhaps he used the sound to cover up something else he was doing.’

  ‘Now you’re sounding daft.’

  ‘Am I? Where does the thresher live?’

  ‘In the
machine shed. Come, I’ll show you.’

  A few minutes later the two of them were standing beside the thresher.

  ‘Now, Bec, tell me which blades have been sharpened recently.’

  The girl bent down to examine the drum and the attached blades. After a moment she stood up and looked at Mark with fear in her eyes.

  ‘He hasn’t touched them.’

  ‘Exactly. So what was he doing in the shed yesterday that kept him so busy?’

  They were just about to leave the machine shed when Mark stopped and put his finger to his lips. Outside was the sound of a van pulling up at the farm gates. It was a sound Mark had heard before.

  ‘Where’s Uncle Jack?’ he whispered.

  ‘Out, with the delivery van, picking something up. He won’t be back till later on. Why?’

  ‘Well, we’ve got a visitor, and it would have been useful to have had him around.’

  The van pulled up in front of the work shed and a short, bald, chubby-faced man wearing a bowler hat got out from the driver’s side. He went into the shed that the youths had been in a few minutes earlier and shut the door. After a few minutes he came out carrying a black bag over his shoulder. He got in the van and drove away.

  ‘Wow. I wonder what that was all about!’ said the girl after the van had gone.

  ‘I don't know, but I’m going to find out, if I can. Come on.’

  The two of them hurried back to the shed they’d been in earlier. Mark looked around intently. At the back of the shed was a little door leading into a store area. He opened it and went inside. The air was musty. There was a small table and a chair. On the floor was a bin and in the bin was some rubbish. Mark rummaged through the bin and found two objects of interest. The first was a chicken bone, which he examined carefully before returning it to the bin. The second was a screwed-up piece of newspaper. Mark flattened it out as much as he could.

  ‘Now that’s interesting,’ he muttered. ‘Who’d want to cut out the article about the Manor House burglary and then throw the page in this bin?’