Archer's Mystery At Mainswell

by Edward Fisher

‘About five minutes. He browsed through the papers and mags first, then came over and bought a tube of sweets and the cigs.’

  ‘Curious,’ said Mark. ‘Do you remember which day it was?’

  ‘Yeah. It was the morning after the Manor got done, only he came in before I knew that.’

  ‘Curious,’ he repeated. ‘Look Bec, we’ve got to get back to James. We’ll see you tomorrow, Mary. Hope your dad says you can join us.’

  ‘Oh, right. Yes. See you tomorrow.’

  The conversation ended quite abruptly and Mark and Bec left the shop with a few items they’d bought. They cycled away from the shop as if heading back to the farm.

  ‘That’s torn it,’ said Mark as they cycled. ‘We’ll have to go the long way round to the windmill, otherwise she’ll see us and wonder what’s up.’

  ‘She already knows what’s up. She’s not as stupid as you might think. Not much goes up and down this road that Mary doesn’t see.’

  ‘I guess not. Oh well, best foot forward, we’ve got to get to the windmill as soon as possible.’ With that, they increased their speed and were soon well on their way to the windmill.

  James, meanwhile, had cleared away the breakfast things and taken out the pair of binoculars that the boys had brought with them. He trained them on the farm buildings. He scanned the buildings carefully, looking for signs of life, but found none. In the lower field a few campers were sorting out their tents. Some were leaving that day and others would be arriving later. Archer was somewhere in the field but James was too interested in the farm buildings to worry about him. Eventually he put down the glasses and began to read. The road behind him was quiet. The occasional car or van passed down it but the volume of traffic was light. As he read his book he became aware that his ankle was throbbing and felt glad that he wasn’t part of the expedition that Mark had planned. He picked up the glasses and looked over the buildings again. He could see no movement. He was unaware that the occupant of the tool shed had caught the glint of the sunlight on the binoculars and was even now looking back at the youth on the hill. He could see that James was looking straight at the shed. However, due to the lighting conditions, James was unable to see the shed’s occupant. He failed to see the man pick up a small mobile phone from the bench next to him. He failed to see him dial a number and then, a few moments later, speak into the phone.

  James put down the glasses and began reading again. Yet another car passed down the road, and another. The minutes passed by and James became totally engrossed in his book. He almost failed to register the van that passed down the road and he totally ignored the fact that the engine sound died away too quickly.

  A few minutes later he picked up the binoculars again. He looked down over the tool shed and away to the right to the machine shed. There was still no movement. He was oblivious to the sounds behind him. Finally he heard a sound and quietly said, ‘That you Archer? I wondered where you’d -’

  The sentence remained unfinished as a hand came around from behind the boy and covered his face. He could not yell out, and was instantly prevented from struggling by the much stronger person behind him.

  ‘Now, sonny, do as you’re told and you won’t get hurt.’ The voice was a harsh whisper, and the strength of the captor’s grip on James made him realise that struggling was not an option at this point. ‘We’ve been watching you and your little friends and we don’t like what you’re doing. Why are you spying on the Hammond’s farm.’

  James managed to twist round and caught sight of a policeman’s uniform. He sighed with relief.

  ‘I’m not spying. I’m James Hammond. Jack Hammond is my uncle and I’m up here camping with my brother and Jack’s daughter, Rebecca. Can you let my arm go, please, it’s hurting? I can’t run away; I’ve sprained my ankle.’

  ‘Oh, right you are. You see, we’ve just had a phone call from the farmhand saying someone was watching the farm, so I got sent to investigate and I want to know what you were doing just now.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Look it’s a very long story and I think you need to know a few things. First, though, I think Uncle Jack should be there when I tell you. Can we go down to the farmhouse?’

  ‘I guess so. Can you walk there?’

  ‘Just about.’

  ‘In that case I’ll tell the constable to drive round. He’s parked in the van below.’

  A few moments later the policeman helped the youngster to walk down to the farmhouse. They found Jack Hammond, who looked most surprised, and then the three of them went into the farmhouse.

  Once they were seated in the lounge, Jack Hammond looked at his nephew and said, ‘Well James. You said it’s a long story so you’d better get started.’

  So James started to tell his story. He told them about the chubby-faced gent on the train, the windmill, the barn, the meetings in the road late at night and their suspicions. It took him about half an hour of solid talking. When he mentioned their suspicions about Tom, the man in the uniform stopped him.

  ‘Mr Hammond, has Tom been off work the days this young man mentioned?’

  ‘Well, yes he has. He’s got a bad back that flares up every now and then.’

  ‘And how do you know that, sir?’

  ‘Because he tells me when he phones in.’

  ‘So it’s just his word. Now, I take it that the person who phoned us was this Tom.’

  ‘Yes, it must have been,’ said James. ‘I saw him go into the shed earlier and as far as I know he hasn’t come out since.’

  ‘That’s right,’ interjected the uncle. ‘He’s sharpening some blades for me this morning.’

  ‘No he’s not, Uncle. He’s just pretending to.’

  ‘James!’ came his uncle’s retort.

  ‘It’s true. You go and check the thresher and see if any of those blades have been sharpened. Tom said he was doing them the day before yesterday.’

  The farmer disappeared for a few minutes and then returned with a serious look on his face.

  ‘Officer, the boy is telling the truth. But I can hear Tom in the shed. The grinder is on and you can hear metal being worked.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not blades.’ James was trying to think quickly. ‘I’ll bet if you go in there now, you’ll find him grinding something, but it won’t be blades.’

  ‘Sir,’ said the policeman, ‘could you go and check without raising any suspicions?’

  ‘Sure, but if he watched you bring the boy down here, then he’ll surely be working legitimately at the moment.’

  ‘In which case,’ said James, ‘if you took me away in your van and left Uncle here, then in a while Tom will feel safe again and Uncle could burst in on him later and then phone you.’

  ‘The young man has a good idea. Would you be willing sir?’

  ‘Yes, of course I would. Take James to the station and I’ll phone you there in about an hour.’

  ‘Right you are. Young sir, if you please.’

  ‘Do you need to handcuff me or anything?’

  ‘I don't think so.’

  With that, the policeman led the boy out of the farmhouse and a moment later the van drove off. The tool shed door moved momentarily as they left and by the time the farmer walked past it the sound of grinding could be heard again.

  Half an hour passed, and then another quarter. Jack Hammond finished what he was doing in the machine shed and walked slowly back to the tool shed. He could still hear the sound of the grinder. He pushed on the door and it opened for him. He went inside. The shed and the little room beyond were empty. As he walked back out of the shed he flicked a switch and the sound of the grinder subsided. Jack Hammond walked quickly into the farmhouse and was soon connected to the police station.

  ‘Sergeant Applebury? Yes. This is Jack Hammond. Your constable was here about an hour ago and he should have brought James back to you. Well, I’m afraid that the bird has flown. I just went into the shed and Tom has completely disappeared.’ There was a pause. ‘What do you mean - you haven’t sent anybody up to th
e farm today? Your constable was here not one hour ago! Short chap, chubby face with glasses. He had a police van with him and a driver.’ A further pause as the sergeant spoke.

  ‘No. In that case my nephew has been abducted and I know that my farmhand is involved. Can you get someone out here right away?’ There was a further pause.

  ‘Good. See you in five minutes.’

  Jack Hammond put the phone down and was about to phone his brother when the police car swerved into the farmyard. It took the boys’ uncle about five minutes to get his version of events out.

  The sergeant took copious notes and at the end of the story scratched the back of his neck with his pencil.

  ‘Well, sir, you’d better leave this one up to us. You say the other two are out on their bikes. If they come back you’d better keep them here. Meantime we’ll see what we can do. I’ll leave the constable with you in case anything happens here, though I doubt it, and the CID lot will be down here in about an hour. Don't go back into the shed and don’t touch their tents.’

  ‘Oh, there’s one more thing you should know.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘The boys brought a dog with them. An Alsatian. He’s called Archer and he’s out in the fields somewhere. If your men find him, he might be useful. I’d better phone their father.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that yet, sir. It will only cause alarm. Let’s leave it for a while. A couple of hours can’t do much harm, and in that time we might have some news.’

  ‘Very well, Sergeant, keep me informed.’

  ‘Certainly, sir.’

  The policeman left the farmhouse and began the task of setting up an investigation. As he did so, just a few miles away, events were unfolding at a far greater pace than even he could have imagined.

  Chapter 19

  Mark and Rebecca had cycled the long distance to the windmill, and were quite breathless when they arrived. As they cycled the last few yards along the road, Mark suddenly saw the van parked outside and motioned to his cousin to stop. At the side of the road was a ditch and they had just hidden their bikes when a chubby-faced man came out of the windmill. He got into the van and the van backed up the road.

  ‘That’s odd,’ said Mark. ‘That van is a police van of the sort they use to transport dogs in. What’s it doing here?’

  ‘And why did chubby-face get into it?’

  ‘And who was driving it? He got into the passenger seat,’ continued the boy.

  ‘It could’ve been the real owner, a real copper?’

  ‘Could be, but that means there’s a third person involved.’

  ‘Yeah, and if he’s a copper, that would explain why the police aren’t making any progress. The burglars would always know exactly what’s going on in the investigations and could stay one step ahead of the cops.’

  ‘True. Look, how good is your whistling?’

  ‘Pretty good.’

  ‘Right, stay here. I’m going to go and have a closer look. If anyone comes, then whistle as loud as you can. Got it?’

  ‘Sure.’ Before she had time to say any more, Mark had gone. He half ran to the windmill. He was sure it would be empty and he knew he had little time. He went in and found the trapdoor. He lifted it and jumped down inside. The trap fell shut above him, instantly plunging him into darkness. He rummaged around in his trouser pockets and produced a small torch. He turned it on and quickly scanned the room. There were a number of black bags strewn across the floor and Mark quickly checked a couple. He concluded these were probably unwanted items that had been taken in the robberies, items taken to confuse the authorities.

  His torch picked out a couple of boxes. He checked them and found that they were empty. He scanned around further and found the entrance to the tunnel leading away behind the windmill. He was just debating what to do next when he heard a short, sharp whistle. He froze momentarily and then sensibly decided to climb into the tunnel. He reasoned that anyone lifting the trapdoor would see him standing in the space beneath it, but they were not likely to see him further up the tunnel. He heard the sound of a van approaching and then the engine died. A moment later he heard people above him on the floor of the windmill. The trapdoor was opened and a large object pushed through it.

  ‘And that is where they’ll find you, you meddling pest. Now you’re out the way, perhaps it’ll keep your mates off us as well.’

  The trap door was shut and Mark heard something heavy being dragged across the floor. Then there was the sound of the van’s engine, together with the crunch of gears as the driver found reverse.

  Mark played the torch carefully down the tunnel on to the object. He quickly saw that the object was tied up in a black bin liner, and equally quickly recognised the trainers.

  ‘James?’ he hissed.

  ‘Hmm,’ came the muffled reply.

  Mark quickly tore at the bin liner and had soon freed his brother.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Mark asked his brother. ‘You’re supposed to be at home watching the shed.’

  ‘I might ask you the same thing,’ grinned his brother. The two embraced affectionately and then James began to tell how he’d been abducted.

  ‘But this is crazy. Why bring you here and leave you?’

  ‘Just so they could get away. It buys them time. Also, if the police are looking for me, they won’t be hunting them too. It just gives them a few hours to get away.’ James was remarkably cool after the abduction. ‘Look, they’re not coming back here again; that police van had half a dozen boxes in it. I couldn’t see much, but I’m pretty certain they contained small oblong metal boxes, and I’ll bet they were stuffed full of drugs.’

  ‘Great. So they use a police van to escape in. Who was the driver?’

  ‘I think he was a genuine cop. Certainly friendly with chubby-face, and yes, his name is Harry. He called the policeman Dave.’

  ‘So we were right. Now listen, Bec is outside, and maybe she can help us.’

  ‘I hope so. Let’s call her.’

  With that the boys yelled out as loudly as they could. Outside, the girl had whistled loudly once and then dived for cover in the ditch. She had lain there, frozen to the spot, as the van had passed by above her. She had caught a glimpse of the driver and recognised him. She would have to deal with that information later on. For now though, she waited until the van had once again departed. Frightened of being discovered, she waited until she heard her name being called. Quickly she ran into the windmill and stood on the floor above the boys.

  ‘Mark, where are you?’ she shouted.

  ‘Down here! James is here with me. Now can you get us out?’

  ‘I don't think so. They’ve hauled this heavy box over the trapdoor and I don't think I’m strong enough to shift it.’

  ‘Okay. In that case you’ll have to cycle home and get help. James has already told Uncle Jack the gist of the situation. Just get him here with some help as fast as you can. We’ve got to hurry because they’re getting away. Did you get all of that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. In that case, see you in a bit.’

  Rebecca ran out of the windmill, across to the ditch and picked up her bike, which she pedalled as fast as she could all the way back to the farm. It took her less than ten minutes to cover the distance from the windmill to the farm. She skidded to a halt and ran indoors.

  ‘Dad! Dad!’ she panted. ‘The boys are in trouble. They’re trapped under the windmill and the thieves are getting away.

  ‘Whoa, young lady! Hold on. What windmill?’

  ‘Look, I know where it is. Get in the car and drive me there. And get the police too.’

  ‘Okay, okay. Hang on a moment.’ With that he phoned through to the police station.

  ‘Hello, Sergeant, it’s Jack Hammond. I have some news for you. Apparently the boys are trapped under a disused windmill about three miles away. My daughter has just come home and said the thieves are escaping the area in a police van. No, she didn’t get the registration number, bu
t she did recognise the driver. His name? Oh yes, he’s Dave Wilmot. Look, I’m going up to the windmill. You know where it is. Right-oh. Yes, got that. See you there in five minutes.’

  ‘Well?’ the girl asked.

  ‘Well. They’ve suspected Dave for some time and indeed his van was reported missing from the pound earlier today. Looks like quite a to-do going on over this. Let’s get going - you can tell me about it on the way.’

  The car screeched away from the farmhouse and in just five minutes it was pulling up outside the windmill. The father and daughter jumped out of the vehicle. There was no sign of the police, so they ran in to the windmill.

  ‘Mark, James, are you all right’ the man called down.

  ‘Yes, Uncle Jack, we’re down here. Can you shift the box up there?’

  The box was duly moved, though it took all the farmer’s considerable strength to move it. A moment later the trapdoor was lifted and the boys were helped up through the opening. James went up first, groaning as Mark pushed him up by his bad ankle. Just as Mark clambered up, the sergeant arrived.

  ‘So you’ve found them then?’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant, they’re both safe and well. And the others?’

  ‘No news yet sir, but there are a few cars out searching for them.’

  ‘They’ll be heading for the coast, Sergeant,’ said James.

  ‘And why do you think that?’

  ‘Because they had six crates in the van, packed with boxes. They looked as if they might have been shipping crates, strongboxes. Oh, and Sergeant, the chubby-faced chap is armed. I caught sight of a gun under his tunic when he sat in the van.’

  ‘Thanks, young man, that’s worth knowing. Constable, can you radio that through? Now!’

  ‘Sergeant,’ started Mark. ‘There’s a sort of tunnel down there which I haven’t looked down. It looks as if it could go somewhere.’

  ‘Right. When the constable comes back we’ll get him to take a look.’

  The constable returned and was given his instructions. He disappeared through the trap door with a torch for a couple of moments and then returned looking pale.