A Rather Remarkable Homecoming

by C. A. Belmond

  “True,” Jeremy agreed.

  “What do we do when he comes out shooting?” I asked.

  “You will keep chattering,” Jeremy commented.

  “You only scold when you’re worried,” I retorted.

  “Quiet,” Jeremy answered, gesturing ahead. “Looks like we’ve got more company.”

  A swarm of young men on bicycles had come swooping down the road. The bikes—and the kids on them—looked pretty scruffy. I’d seen these kids in town before. They all wore black, unmarked helmets and dark sunglasses. Their bikes were old but seemed souped up, enabling the riders to do daring stunts in the deserted streets. They acted as if they were on skateboards, and they rammed the bikes up against a curb, to fly in the air and yet land miraculously intact.

  They were imitating motorcycle stunt drivers, I realized. They kept shouting at each other in hoarse voices, and there was something anarchic about the way they operated, making sudden, risky moves that could easily end in disaster.

  “I guess these must be the vandals I’ve been hearing so much about,” I said in a low voice.

  “They could be Colin’s friends,” Jeremy noted. “Some local ‘eco-warriors’, see? It’s on their T-shirts.”

  I saw that they were all wearing similar black T-shirts with gold and red lettering; and most of the kids had cigarette packs rolled up in the sleeves.

  “How can they be eco-warriors and smoke?” I murmured distractedly.

  “You’re mixing apples and oranges,” Jeremy commented. “One does not necessarily follow the other.”

  The bikers were still swooping around us like bats, but their group had already thinned out, and only a few diehards remained. They didn’t notice us because Jeremy had shut off his engine.

  At that moment, Toby came out of the warehouse, followed by a guy in fisherman’s clothes who was hauling a big crate. Toby unlocked the trunk—excuse me, the “boot”—of his car, and the man obligingly put the crate inside. The man then locked the warehouse door, and climbed into his own nearby truck.

  Toby scowled at the few bikers who swooped past him. Then he got into his car and drove off.

  “Well, that’s all there is to Toby,” Jeremy said with some irritation. “The only deal that went down with him today was a wholesale fish buy.”

  “That still doesn’t explain the pink paint on his tires,” I pointed out.

  “For all we know, these stupid kids could have paintballed him with their environmentally-correct paint, just like they threw eggs at my windshield,” Jeremy said.

  “I still don’t think those kids threw the eggs,” I insisted. “Farmers’ kids know the hard work that goes into gathering eggs.”

  “Forget the eggs!” Jeremy said. “Who cares? Got any other bright ideas?”

  “I’m as exhausted as you from our little visit to Great-Aunt Dorothy,” I replied huffily, “but you don’t see me blaming you for every dumb idea you came up with.”

  “That’s because I don’t come up with dumb ideas,” Jeremy said maddeningly, drinking his coffee as if we had all the time in the world now.

  “You certainly do! Threatening Dorothy with ruining her rep among her snotty friends. Even if she hadn’t outlived them all, couldn’t you figure that her friends despise Rollo as much as she does?”

  Jeremy winced. Then he nudged me. “Look. One of the eco-warriors is still hanging about, and he’s going into that call box. Think the old phone in there could possibly work?”

  I glanced up with mild interest. Because of mobile phones, English call booths are a vanishing species. This one looked as if it had been erected in the 1950s. As for the phone, I could see that it was the kind that starts your call for you, then, a few seconds later, requires you to jam a large, thick coin into it really fast, or else the call cuts out. I sat there idly waiting to see if the kid actually succeeded in making a call on one of those dinosaurs.

  And then, all of sudden, my mobile phone rang.

  For a moment I just stared at it. I saw that my incoming call was from a local number. I answered it on speaker mode, so Jeremy could hear it.

  “Penny Nichols?” came the voice, sounding as if someone were talking through a sock. I looked up, and I saw that the kid in the booth had indeed put a cloth over the mouthpiece. Jeremy waggled his eyebrows to indicate that he saw it, too, and that I should respond.

  “Who is this?” I asked cautiously. Jeremy was busy trying to e-mail the local cop he’d talked to.

  “Your cousin Rollo is safe . . . for the time being. Bring the money to the abandoned railroad station tonight at midnight. It must be only you and Jeremy who make this drop. Don’t bring anybody else, or the deal is off.”

  My phone clicked just as I saw the kid hang up. He rapidly hopped onto his bicycle and drove away. Jeremy set off after him. But it was impossible to tail the kid, because he disappeared through alleyways between the warehouses where a car couldn’t fit. Jeremy and I tried to figure out which street he would come out on, but in the end, we lost him.

  “Damn!” Jeremy exclaimed. “It looks like those kids really have kidnapped Rollo. If that’s true, then Colin has a lot to explain.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Well, we ended up assembling our own SWAT team. First, of course, we had to get the local cop, Alfred, on board. He swore that he would bring only a select group of cops with him for back-up, and most of them would be in plainclothes. Jeremy made him promise that the cops would hang well back, out of sight.

  Of course, when Geoff, Shannon and Colin learned that a few renegade eco-warriors were behind the kidnapping, they were aghast. Colin wanted to interrogate his younger brother and “punch out his lights” but the cop said that would be foolish because he would surely tip off his buddies.

  Colin insisted that he must accompany us. “You might need a hostage negotiator to talk to those little punks,” he explained.

  “Not you, you hot-head!” Shannon said firmly. “Geoff will go.”

  Colin glanced at Geoff, who wore his usual mild expression, and, with his hair tied in his ponytail, looked like the sort of fellow who’d try to make peace, not war. “They won’t listen to him,” Colin said briefly.

  “We don’t need any of you!” Alfred said sternly. He was a very lanky man with slicked-back hair and a thick, bushy moustache that curled up on both ends. “I know how to talk to those kids,” he said. “The main thing is to get this Rollo person out of their hands safely.”

  “Aw, please, Alfred,” Shannon said. “Don’t go shootin’ my kid brother. No matter what he’s done, he’s not to be killed.”

  “Of course not,” Alfred said. “But don’t expect me to handle him with kid gloves, either. If those fools have weapons, well, it’s their funeral.”

  “Great,” Colin muttered.

  “Let’s go,” Alfred said briskly. “Jeremy, you and Penny drive ahead. We’ll be behind you, even if you can’t see us.”

  “I don’t want Penny to do this,” Jeremy said unexpectedly.

  “Why are you throwing me overboard?” I asked, insulted. “The kid phoned me, not you.”

  “So what?” Jeremy said. “He probably found your number on Rollo’s cell phone. If these kids do have weapons, I don’t want my wife getting caught in the crossfire.”

  “How dare you call me a wife at a time like this!” I said indignantly. “If I don’t show up they’ll know something’s wrong. Don’t be absurd. I’m going, and that’s that.” The cop grinned.

  “Fine!” Jeremy exclaimed, pretending he didn’t care anymore. I knew from his face that he was just annoyed at having me push back at him in front of the guys. But it was his own fault.

  “There’s just one thing,” I said hurriedly. “We have to stop by the Actors’ Home so I can drop off those books and biscuits that I promised I’d bring to Simon.”

  “You have got to be kidding,” Jeremy said.

  “I have to, Jeremy. He’ll worry about me if I don’t show up. I’ve put it off for w
eeks now. I can’t cancel on him again. The Actors’ Home is on the way, anyhow.”

  Jeremy just looked at the cop, who glanced at his watch, then shrugged. “We’ve got time,” he said. “If she makes it snappy.”

  I hate when people say She when you’re standing right there in front of them. However, since Alfred had sided with me, I didn’t comment.

  So Jeremy drove me right up to the front door of the Actors’ Home, and I went running inside like a madwoman, tearing down the corridors past all the elderly actors and actresses who were moving along like slow beetles; but, since none of them had lost their flair for the dramatic, they all looked up at me with arched eyebrows and an exaggerated salute as I raced breathlessly by.

  I found Simon sitting in his room by the window, his hands folded in his lap. A shaft of sunlight came through the windowpane, falling on his high forehead and nodding, bald head. I stopped rushing, and began to tiptoe in, thinking I’d deposit the books and the biscuit tin on his night table. But as I approached he stirred.

  “Penny?” he whispered, still sleepy. “Darling girl, won’t you stay awhile and tell me what’s going on in the world at large? Have you solved your case yet?”

  “Nope. And the world at large is going to hell in a handbucket,” I said breathlessly. I knew I couldn’t stop and chat. Jeremy and Alfred would have my head.

  “I must go, Simon,” I whispered regretfully. “Rollo got himself in trouble and I have to bail him out of a really bad jam this time.”

  Simon’s eyes widened. “Will it be dangerous?” he whispered back.

  “Maybe not,” I said unconvincingly. “I’ll come back to see you when it’s over, and tell you all about it.”

  “Fine, Penny dear,” Simon said, staring down at the tin of biscuits. He normally would have opened it right then and there and popped one in his mouth. But now he put a hand on my arm and said, “Do be careful, won’t you, dear?”

  “Sure,” I said hastily.

  I gave him a kiss on the cheek, then ran out of the room and tore down the corridor again, nearly colliding with a lady in a walker. She had long grey hair down to her shoulders, and a slick of red lipstick across her mouth, and rouge in two spots on her cheeks, and a purple scarf around her shoulders. “Adieu!” she called out with a theatrical wave of her hand, even though we didn’t really know each other.

  A laundry truck collecting linens had forced Jeremy to move his car away from the front door, so I had to run all the way down the long, curving pebbled drive. Just as I reached the car and was about to climb into the passenger seat, Trevor Branwhistle came rushing toward us, waving his cane in one hand and his hat in the other.

  “Thank heaven I caught up with you!” he said broadly, and before either one of us could object, he had already climbed into the back seat. “Give me a ride into town, will you?” he said. “Go ahead, Jeremy, drive on,” he instructed, as if Jeremy were his chauffeur.

  Knowing how much we owed Trevor for taking Simon in, Jeremy had no choice but to do as Trevor instructed. When we reached town, Jeremy slowed down in front of the theatre, but it was dark.

  “Trevor, there’s nobody here tonight,” I said.

  Trevor replied, just a shade too innocently, “Oh, really? Foolish me, I must have the wrong date. Ah, well. I’ll just stay with you until you’re ready to go home.”

  Jeremy glanced up into the rearview mirror and stared knowingly at Trevor, who blushed a little but soldiered on.

  “Don’t waste time, dear boy,” Trevor said crisply. “Are we doing a ‘rescue op’ or not?”

  And before Jeremy could object, Trevor said to me quickly, “You know, Simon was worried about you, Penny darling. He asked me if someone could keep an eye on you. And as we are shorthanded right now, I thought, what better person than myself?”

  When we pulled up to the deserted railway tracks, there was nothing but some fractured shafts of moonlight to show us the way. That, and our headlights. No train would come through here; this was a disused section of the railway that ran below the Old Town, not far from the pub where Colin and his band had played.

  Jeremy turned off the motor and waited for instructions from Alfred, who was parked a few blocks away, out of sight. Trevor Branwhistle obstinately refused to leave the car, even when Alfred telephoned us and demanded to know why we’d brought Trevor along.

  “We don’t need complications,” the cop said, exasperated.

  “Is that Alfred? I know him,” Trevor intoned; and he added severely, “Tell him I was playing Hamlet when he was still in diapers. Tell him I’m here because I made a vow to a friend to keep an eye on you two, and I intend to keep my vow. That is all there is to be said on the subject.”

  “Then tell Hamlet to duck down in the back seat and keep his big mouth shut,” Alfred said, having overheard it all. “So as not to get his head shot off. Otherwise he’ll be playing the corpse in Julius Caesar.”

  When Jeremy relayed this message, Trevor said, “Well!” in exaggerated outrage, but I noticed that when Jeremy hung up, Trevor did exactly as instructed—scrunched himself on the floor of the back of the car.

  “Penny,” Jeremy said quietly, “I wish you’d do the same.” He checked his watch. “Time to make the drop,” he said, opening the car door. “Don’t follow me, Pen, until I’m ready for the money.”

  “Okay,” I said after a pause.

  I sent Alfred a frantic e-mail. Jeremy going out alone. Please make sure nobody kills him!

  It is a terrible moment to sit and watch the man you love go out and do a brave and crazy thing. I remained transfixed as Jeremy walked in front of the light of the car’s headlamps, moving with a measured, purposeful stride toward the tracks. He had gone only about three feet when a voice came out from ahead, somewhere in the darkness.

  “Halt!” It was a young voice, but it sounded edgy, scared, and I knew that this was dangerous, because the kid might be unpredictable.

  “Where is Rollo?” Jeremy called out. There was a silence.

  Then the voice replied challengingly, “Where is Penny Nichols?”

  I really didn’t like hearing my name taken in vain like that, echoing across the empty rail yard.

  Neither, apparently, did Jeremy, for he retorted, “She has the money. But you won’t see her until I see Rollo.”

  I thought I heard whispers echoing across the tracks, which meant that there was more than one hooligan on this mission. My heart sank. Maybe we should have taken Colin and Geoff with us, after all.

  “Jeremy!”

  It was Rollo’s voice, and then I saw his figure shoved out onto the tracks from behind an old platform that, Jeremy told me later, was in such disrepair that the wood was simply collapsing in sections from rot.

  “Freeze!” somebody ordered from behind the platform. Poor Rollo stood there, blinking in the glare of the car headlights, uncertain what to do next. The voice from behind the platform said, “Now. Let’s see the girl and the money.”

  Jeremy turned and signalled me. He had instructed me earlier that if it came to this, I should take only a few steps, then hand over the suitcase to him and get back in the car as fast as I could.

  “Penny, what’s happening?” Trevor whispered from the back seat.

  “Rollo’s out there,” I whispered back. “I have to go and give Jeremy the money. If I’m back soon with Jeremy and Rollo, it’s fine. If I’m not, it could mean trouble, so stay put.”

  I opened the car door and slipped out, with the suitcase in hand. The sound of my own breathing seemed scared. I made my way toward the tracks. I held the suitcase out, so anyone could see it, and I was all set to hand it to Jeremy, when the voice that was calling the shots commanded, “Place the suitcase on the tracks and back off, both of you.”

  So I walked a bit farther, then gingerly laid the case on the tracks. Weeds were poking out between the rail ties, and even though I knew it was a disused track, I kept expecting some ghost train to come roaring along and mow me down. My hand
shook a little as I let go.

  Jeremy had already come to my side, and I could tell that he was trying to use his own body to shield me from anyone’s aim from the platform. We backed off together, until the voice said, “Stop there!”

  Rollo was still standing uncertainly near the derelict platform. The suitcase was in the middle. And Jeremy and I stood on the other side of the tracks. Now another figure was moving toward us.

  He was dressed in black jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt with the hood up so that it was impossible to really see who it was. He moved swiftly toward the suitcase and opened it.

  And then, to my horror, he picked up only one of the packets of money, and began to examine each bill. I saw that he had a small but strong flashlight dangling on a cord around his neck, which he now aimed at the money. He wasn’t counting it, I saw. He was studying it closely. Then he looked up sharply.

  “Hey,” he began, “what’s going on here? I—”

  “Young man, don’t be GREEDY!”

  This new, booming voice seemed to come right out of the suitcase. It sure scared me, and I wasn’t even holding it. But the kid quickly dropped the bag involuntarily, and began to run with fright.

  Later, Trevor Branwhistle would tell me that he had peeped out the car window just after I’d left, sized up the situation, and, as he said, “My theatrical instincts kicked in, and I automatically went into Ventriloquist Mode.”

  Now everyone was shouting and running in all different directions. Jeremy called out, “Rollo, run this way!” and Rollo bolted toward us.

  Trevor’s booming voice then seemed to be coming at the kidnappers from another spot—the sagging platform. “FREEZE, villains!” it said, then intoned, “You are surrounded. You cannot escape. Don’t use a weapon or you will be in bigger trouble than you are now.”

  “Who the hell is that?” Alfred the cop asked me, having just appeared at my side. I could hear the squeal of truck tires as the kidnappers tried to escape, prompting Alfred to snap into high gear, shouting into his cell phone, “Okay, boys, move in on the north side of the tracks, MOVE in, NOW!”