‘Sir, I think you’d better take a look.’
The sergeant took the torch and made his own investigations. He returned holding something in his hand. As he straightened up he examined it more closely.
‘Looks like a wrap of some kind. Someone’s been living down there, and quite recently too.’
Rebecca was looking round the windmill when the sergeant had returned. As he spoke she turned to see what he was holding. Her muted ‘Mother!’ went unheard by all, so she said it louder, and then again and again, each time getting louder.
‘Sorry, Miss, I don’t follow you.’
‘It’s her mother’s shawl, Sergeant. My wife, Mary, disappeared last year. You remember?’
‘Of course I remember, sir. And this is her shawl? Are you certain?’
‘Yes, I’m certain. Rebecca bought it for her only a couple of weeks before she disappeared.’
‘And have you seen the shawl since then.’
‘No, Sergeant, it disappeared with her.’ Jack Hammond’s eyes filled with water as he remembered the events of a year ago. He reached out a comforting arm to his daughter, who ran towards him and buried her head in his chest.
‘Right, sir, now don’t take this the wrong way, but I would advise you not to get your hopes up yet. There could be many reasons why this shawl has ended up here. We’ll get the forensic boys to check it out. Now, can we all go outside please? Constable, we need SOCO down here as quickly as you like.’
The group all left the windmill and went and waited by the police car. Rebecca cuddled up close to her father and the boys talked animatedly to each other. What seemed like ages was actually less than twenty minutes and then three more vehicles arrived. The sergeant went over to the first car and introduced himself. A brief, animated discussion took place before the sergeant returned to the group.
‘Sir, may I have a word?’ he said to Jack Hammond. ‘Over here, sir, if you please.’
Jack Hammond moved away from the group, leaving the boys to comfort their cousin.
‘We have some news, sir, but I don't think the young lady should hear it yet. We located the van about twenty minutes ago and followed it for a couple of minutes till it came to a barn, which is about thirty miles away. There were three men on board; our missing constable, your farmhand and a chubby-faced gentlemen. We’ve run him through our files and we’re waiting for info. Anyway, they stayed at the barn for about ten minutes and then they got back into the van. They’re heading for the coast now, and here’s the interesting part. It would seem they picked up a fourth person at the barn. It looks like they’re going to leave the country.’
‘A fourth person, Sergeant? Who?’
‘We can’t be certain, sir. Our observer was quite some distance away. We’re following the van now and a roadblock is being set up – they should run into that in about five minutes. There should be some more news soon.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant. Now, I’d like to get my family home, if I may. I think we’ve all suffered enough today.’
‘Quite so, sir, but the Inspector would like a word with the lads first, if that’s all right, and we’ll need statements from you all tomorrow.’
‘Of course.’
With that the sergeant walked off, found the inspector and took him over to where the two boys were standing.
‘Mark and James Hammond, I’d like to introduce you to Inspector Fielding. Sir, the two lads that have triggered all this.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant. Now, lads, you’ve really set things on fire here. I’ve heard the Sergeant’s version of how you’ve flushed these villains out. I will, of course, need to hear it all from you too, but not today. I just wish you’d got on to us sooner and let us handle it, but it’s too late for that now. So, I’ll come by tomorrow and talk to you again. Hopefully, this will all be sorted out by then.’
‘Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, one of those men in the van is armed.’
‘Yes, I know. We’ve taken precautions so don’t worry. Now, Sergeant, can you let these people go home and leave someone with them tonight, just in case?’
‘Sir. Constable, can you please drive these people back to Hammond’s farm and then come back here.’
‘It’s all right, Sergeant, I have my own car,’ Jack Hammond interjected.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but that will have to stay here until forensics have checked it over. There might be something in the tyres or whatever. We’ll bring it round to you later.’
With that the family Hammond was loaded into the police car and driven back to the farm. Once back at home, the farmer looked at the three teenagers and said, ‘Right, you lot are staying here tonight, till we can be sure the villains have been arrested.’
‘Okay, but we’ve got to find Archer first. He’s around the farm somewhere.’ Mark suddenly remembered that Archer was missing.
They all went outside and called for him. They walked around the outbuildings and then up to the field and round their tents. They picked up sleeping bags and a few other items but Archer was nowhere to be seen. In fact, Archer was nowhere near the farm at that point in time.
Just before James had been kidnapped from the field, Archer had heard the van pull up in the road below. He was curious at this and his curiosity had increased when he heard someone starting to climb the embankment. Leaving James to his reading, Archer had gone off to investigate. He’d taken a very large detour to get a view of the embankment and had been just in time to see James being tackled by a burly gentleman in policeman’s uniform. Archer had thought about intervening for a moment, but when the two started to walk to the farm he lost interest. What did interest him, however, was a faint but unmistakable aroma of the peculiar perfume that had been puzzling him. Archer had sniffed around for a few minutes whilst James hobbled down to the farm.
Then, and for no apparent reason, Archer had sensed danger. Maybe it was due to the peculiar perfume, or maybe not, but Archer sensed danger. He ran quickly down to the farm, just in time to see James go into the farmhouse. For a few moments he sniffed around the sheds and outhouses, allowing a few minutes to pass. Archer heard the grinding machine in the tool shed and he even saw Jack Hammond go to the machine shed. Then, after a few minutes, he saw James come out of the house and get into the van. This worried Archer and something in his doggy brain told him things were very wrong. It was that peculiar perfume, and not only that - there was something wrong with the gentleman in the policeman’s uniform. His face was remarkably familiar.
Chapter 20
As the van drove off, Archer tried to follow it. He ran through the village, taking short cuts across the fields. His nose locked onto the distinctive exhaust fumes from the vehicle, making it easy for Archer to follow. After a few minutes he figured out exactly where the van was heading and he remembered that the others would be there too. Feeling breathless, he knew that there wasn’t much further to go. With grim determination, Archer made a hero’s effort and increased speed. He didn’t use the road up to the windmill, but preferred to run through the long grass at the side. He turned a corner and saw the van. The back door was open. The van was unusually large, with a forward seating area for at least four people, and then the rear area that could hold quite a considerable cargo. In the front of the van Archer saw the driver and another character he recognised as being the farmhand. Silently and unseen, Archer made his way to the back door of the van and eased himself inside. He lay down, hardly daring to breathe, much less pant.
Suddenly the doors behind him were closed and in a moment a front door closed too and the vehicle began to move. Archer was protected from view by six large crates and also by the fact that the back of the van had no windows and was, therefore, gloomy inside. The van travelled at a considerable speed for some time and Archer was tossed around on the floor at the back. Eventually, with screeching brakes, the van halted and the chubby-faced man and the farmhand got out. Archer sniffed carefully. His sense of smell told him nothing, but he knew that he was in a dangerous s
ituation. Recognising that he couldn’t make his presence known, he lay perfectly still.
A few minutes later the front door was opened again and three people got on board. Two Archer recognised as being the farmhand and the chubby-faced gentleman. Archer did not recognise the third person, but when he sniffed the air carefully he deduced that the person was responsible for the peculiar perfume. Archer lay still as the van began to move again.
‘Now, we’re going for a little ride, and if you know what’s good for you you’ll act perfectly normally. You’ll notice that this looks like a police van, which is what it is, and that two of the occupants are in uniform. That’s just a little insurance policy. If you don’t want to come to any harm just stay quiet and still. Got it?’
‘Hmm,’ the new passenger grunted. Archer guessed that this person was probably gagged. Either that or the person was too scared to talk properly. Archer also racked his brain to recognise the inflection in the voice. Somewhere in his cranium a neurone or a synapse was reviving a link from a long time ago. Something told Archer that this single ‘hmm’ was familiar. As he lay on the floor he dwelt on this new puzzle until he had solved it. A slow doggy smile began to spread across the dog’s face and the fur covering his spine began to feel gratifyingly warm. In an instant Archer knew that what he remembered was exceedingly good news – well, for him anyway. After all, he had understood the threats that had been made a few days ago after he’d pulled off another version of his ‘bacon falling from fork’ routine with the boys’ father. He just wondered if he might be about to earn his reprieve.
The van careered down the twisty, winding roads. It suddenly turned a very sharp left and then a few seconds later veered to the right.
‘That should fix them if we’re being followed. No one will expect us to come down here.’
The road was now very uneven, the kind of road you wouldn’t want to take a horse and cart down, much less a speeding police van. Archer tried hard to stay still.
‘The radio says they’ve got a block about two miles away.’
‘What, on this road?’ Archer’s sensitive ears could hear the conversation between the driver and his navigator.
‘Nah. The one we were on.’
‘That’s all right then.’
‘Yeah. We’ll be at the drop-off in about five minutes. Say we’ve bought ourselves another five minutes, that gives us a maximum of ten to get unloaded and out of the way.’
‘Yeah, and what about the dead weight?’
‘We follow the plan. Once we’re out of here we don’t need a hostage. And if we don't need it then we get rid of it. It’ll only slow us down.’ Though Archer could hear the conversation quite well, the words were entirely lost on the two people sitting behind the driver and navigator.
‘That suits me. But if I’ve got to do it, I want to do it my way.’
‘Yeah, okay. But you’ve got just three minutes and then we’ll go without you. Three minutes.’
‘That’s fine by me.’
The van continued its headlong dash downhill along the windy, twisty, badly made road. About three miles away two police cars waited patiently, their combined bulk entirely blocking the main road. The occupants stood at a safe distance behind them. One of the policemen was speaking into a radio.
‘Yes, Serge, we’re all set here. There’s no way they can get through the block and I have two men ready to jump into action when they stop. Serge, where are they?’ There was a pause as the reply came across the radio.
‘How do you mean, you lost them? Are they nearly here or what?’ There was a further pause.
‘Should be here by now? We can see you coming down the road. There’s nothing in front of you. Where the hell are they? Pearce, get the Ordnance Survey map out.’
A few seconds passed and the police car carrying the Sergeant skidded to a halt just before the blockade. The Sergeant got out and looked around bewildered.
‘Well?’
‘Well what, sir?’
‘Well, where are they then.’
‘Dunno, sir. Pearce is looking for any other route they could have taken. Pearce?’ he enquired of the constable.
‘Nothing, sir. There’s an old track on the map but it’s not made up and the line just disappears half way. Looks like a dead end.’
‘Nearest cove from here?’ the sergeant asked. ‘Hurry man.’
‘Just there, sir.’ The police constable pointed to a spot on the map. ‘About three miles away sir.’
‘Right, that’s where they’re headed. Get these cars moved. I’ll take the cove. One of you can stay here and the other can go and look at that track. Move it, men.’
In a matter of thirty seconds two of the cars had gone. The car carrying the sergeant headed off to the cove they’d pointed out on the map. Just as they set off on the three-mile journey, the police van carrying the four fugitives and Archer arrived at the cove. The cove consisted of a platform leading out into the water and a slipway. Moored to the platform was a small motorboat. The police van pulled up by the boat and the occupants got out. Archer was preparing himself for action when the rear doors on the van were thrown open.
‘What the -?’ the person nearest the opening doors shouted as Archer hurled himself out, knocking the speaker to the ground and leaving the sentence unfinished. Archer wasted no time. He ran back up the jetty and disappeared behind the only hut that afforded him cover. A single shot from a revolver sounded but the bullet passed by Archer, several inches away.
Archer heard voices in the distance but could not hear what was being said. He quickly skirted behind the building until he could see what was happening. He saw two men unloading the boxes from the van and putting them on the boat. The third person was holding the fourth person who had been picked up on route. Now, Archer could see that this last person was gagged and bound. He counted the boxes out of the van. One, two, three. As the fourth one came out of the van, the chubby-faced person dragged the prisoner further along the jetty. Archer saw that he held a gun in his hand. Archer sensed danger.
The sound of police sirens filled the air though Archer sensed the vehicle was still some way off. The fourth box was now stored on the boat and the two men were struggling with the fifth.
Archer had, during this time, skulked his way along the sand until he was once again at the edge of the jetty. He figured he was now only about thirty feet away from the van, but his focus of attention was some ten yards further away.
‘Hurry up!’ he heard the man with the gun shout to his colleagues. ‘The old bill will be here in a minute.’
‘Get on with it yourself,’ a voice grumbled in reply.
‘You know the plan.’
‘Yeah. Just make sure you do it right.’
The man was fumbling with the thin rope tied around the waist of the prisoner.
‘Right. Now stand here and don’t move. I’ll be back in a second.’ He walked away slowly, unravelling the rope he held in his hand. When he reached the boat he climbed on board. His colleagues were now struggling with the sixth crate.
‘Oi! You might give us a hand. These things are damn heavy.’
‘Yeah, yeah. When I’ve fixed this. There, that should hold it.’ With that the chubby-faced man reached out and helped the other two to lower the crate on to the deck.
‘Now, let’s get out of here.’
‘Right.’ A moment later the sound of the diesel engine filled the air. In a second Archer realised what was going to happen. He calculated the distance he had to cover and looked at the occupants on the boat. The sirens were getting closer, but as far as Archer was concerned they were too late now. He looked at the boat. Two of the occupants were securing the crates to the deck. The third was busy starting the engine and preparing to move away. Archer seized his chance.
With incredible agility he lunged up on to the jetty. In just three strides he reached the van. His momentum carried him past the open passenger door, though the door edge tore at his fur. Three strides
later he reached the rope. He gnawed at the thin mountain climber’s rope. His sharp canine teeth sank into its woven threads. His teeth gnawed hard until he saw the rope fray. He was unaware that he had been spotted by one of the people on deck. He didn’t even care. Something told Archer he had to break the rope.
The prisoner had heard the engines start and had realised what was going to happen. The thought of being dragged along the jetty by the rope until finally the boat headed out to sea was clearly terrifying and the captive had begun to struggle with the knots that tied her arms and bound her waist. In the darkness of the blindfold, panic set in. She began to make muffled screams. The sirens were now coming down to the cove.
Archer bit hard and suddenly heard a second gunshot. This time he didn’t dodge the bullet and he felt something tear into his front right leg. He winced with the pain. The engines of the boat got louder. A third shot rang out, but this one passed harmlessly through the air as the boat lurched from its moorings. The two ropes holding the boat in place snapped tight as the pilot gunned the boat’s engines. Archer felt the rope tauten in his mouth. In pain, he bit hard with one final effort. As he slipped into unconsciousness, Archer became aware that the sirens had stopped and that the sound of the boat’s engines was dying.
It was several seconds later when Archer felt a hand on his neck.
‘Its all right, he’s alive. But we’ll need a vet to look at that leg.’
Archer raised his eyes and recognised the speaker’s uniform. He felt weak but managed to lick the hand that caressed him.
‘It’s all right, boy. It’s all over. You can leave it to us now,’ Archer heard the voice say as he again became unconscious. As he did so, he heard other voices a little way off. Those voices were also offering comfort.
Chapter 21
Hammond’s Farm had become a scene of confusion as events unravelled. Rebecca had, quite understandably, been highly excited and agitated at the same time. The minutes had ticked by, and then an hour. The silence became unbearable. Mark and James had talked nervously in a corner, reliving some of their adventures. Rebecca had joined them, but her mind had not really concentrated on what was being said.
Archer's Mystery At Mainswell Page 16