The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue (46 page)

‘You’re not wrong,’ said Alfie. ‘But we take it one step at a time, right? We stay away from the feds, find Hart and when we’ve done all that we go off and save the world.’

Ralf couldn’t help smiling.

Alfie grinned back. ‘So, I stick with Oyler then, yeah?’

‘Like glue,’ Ralf nodded. ‘But don’t do anything stupid. Keep out of the forest. Watch and nothing else. I’ll round up the others and get back as soon as we can.’

Ralf’s plan was a good one and, like all good plans, went well until something totally unexpected happened.

He Shifted to pick up Leo from
The Fisher King
and they left with Cabal almost immediately. They moved quickly and Ralf was just filling Leo in on all that had happened when they spotted Burrowes outside the Village Hall. The two boys and Cabal crouched behind the old oak, wondering what to do for the best. ‘We’ll have to double back and go around,’ said Ralf, breathlessly.

‘Shift to the graveyard and then behind the Hall?’ Leo suggested, but suddenly his head snapped round and Cabal gave a warning growl.

‘Too late for that,’ said a voice behind them. Ralf’s stomach lurched. He had no time to even attempt to Shift before Minter’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.

‘Got him, sir!’ the Sergeant called.

Cabal’s teeth pulled back further from his gums and Leo leapt to put a restraining hand on his neck. Sensing that his dog was about to spring, Ralf jerked out an arm to stop him.

‘Hold!’ he ordered. ‘Easy Cabal! Stay!’

‘That’s right, lad,’ said Minter, a little shakily. ‘No sense in causing a ruckus.’

Burrowes strode over.

‘Good work, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘Now then, Osborne. I think it’s time you and I had a little heart to heart.’

Leo stood, hanging on to the thick fur at Cabal’s neck, as the sergeant bundled Ralf across the street. All sense of secrecy left him and he yelled ‘What should I do, WOLF?’ at Ralf’s retreating back.

‘Get Valen and make sure Alfie doesn’t do anything stupid!’ Ralf shouted, before being thrust into the Village Hall and roughly escorted to a dark little room at the back of the building.

Minter made him empty his pockets, patted him down and then slammed him into a chair.

There was no cat and mouse with Burrowes this time. He glared into Ralf’s face with naked venom.

‘Why did you do it, Ralf?’

Ralf willed himself calm and took a deep breath. ‘I was just down at the docks with Alfie. We heard the Muntons talking aboard
The Lot's Lady
. They’re the ones who’ve kidnapped Hart!’ Burrowes’ face flushed. He opened his mouth but Ralf rushed on before he could speak. ‘Inspector, you’ve got to listen to me! I don’t know who they’re working for but they’ve got a hideout in Tarzy Wood. That must be where they’re keeping him. There’s another entrance somewhere off the main road. The fireworks just before Christmas were a diversion, so they could get in without being seen. I don’t know, maybe they were taking in supplies… or had to move him for some reason… Gordon Kemp was getting too close to the truth so they set fire to the Bakery!’

Burrowes shut his mouth. His face was a horrible shade of beetroot now and the electric blue around him pulsed like a bright gas flame. The Inspector thrust his hand into his pocket, pulled out Ralf’s marble bag and dropped it with a dull ‘thunk’ on to the table.

‘Yours, I believe!’ he spat.

Ralf reached for it
instinctively.

‘Yours!’ Burrowes roared triumphantly. ‘Found at Springfield Cottage, home of the missing man!’ Ralf groaned inwardly. He pictured the nest of blankets he’d slept in the night before, the marble bag entangled in its folds. He’d left in such a hurry that morning he’d forgotten to pick it up.

‘And I have evidence that you and your little friends broke into a secret bunker!’

Burrowes snapped then. His face, level with Ralf’s ear, flooded purple. ‘The big question though, Osborne, and this is what has been keeping me awake at night, is what made you steal a gallon of petrol from that Zero Station and set fire to Kemp’s Bakery?’

‘I-I didn’t,’ stuttered Ralf. ‘How could you think that? I didn’t –’

‘No?’ He yelled. Burrowes’ breath hit him like a hot wave and spattered him with miniscule particles of saliva. ‘Then how do you explain that I found an half empty can of that missing petrol in your shed?’

Ralf felt as though he’d been knocked on the head again. Stolen petrol in the shed? The broken lock on the door. The footprints round the house! Not only had the Munton’s set fire to Kemp’s they had also deliberately, and quite cleverly, covered their tracks by framing him.

‘When I think of all the advantages you’ve had, Osborne,’ Burrowes raged. ‘The
St. Crispin’s place. A loving family. The patronage of Major-General Kingston-Hawke. And you try to foist the blame on two poor fishermen! Why Osborne? Why did you do it? Why kill a fine man?’

Colour rushed to Ralf’s cheeks at that and he sprang to his feet. He was destined never to answer the question, though. Nor tell Burrowes what a horrible mistake he was making, because Minter popped his head round the corn
er and cleared his throat. The sergeant, Ralf noticed, had no aura at all.

‘Telephone call for you,
sir,’ Minter intoned. ‘In the Post Office, sir.’

Burrowes raised a gingery eyebrow. ‘Who is it?’

‘Major-General Kingston-Hawke, sir. He said to tell you it’s urgent.’

Burrowes threw his chair back and got to his feet. He looked like he was inflating, he puffed up so rapidly.

‘A matter of National Security, I shouldn’t wonder, Minter,’ he declared. ‘Right. I’ll drive myself. You guard this one until I get back.’ Burrowes turned back to glare at Ralf. ‘I will see to it you rot in jail for this boy. It’s just a shame you are too young to hang!’

Immediately Burrowes left, Minter produced a thin copy of The Mirror from inside his uniform and settled himself on a chair by the door to read. ‘
Fighting on the Streets of Calais’
, the headline read and the date,
26th May 1940
, screamed out at Ralf from the page.

Tonight if all went well the Natus would fulfil their destinies and secure the future. But if the Natus should fail? Ralf wouldn’t let himself finish that train of thought. The consequences were too awful to contemplate. Instead Ralf’s mind screamed with questions; What was happening outside? Where was Winters? And Walter Sedley and The Arbuckles? How was he going to persuade Burrowes to search that clearing for Hart? The evacuation of Dunkirk would be starting in a few hours. Were the rescuers already on their way? How could he help them locked up like this? How could he fulfil his destiny?

Tonight, at four minutes past midnight, the Turnarounders would have a vital role to play. A role ordained many, many centuries ago. And here he was, helpless, locked in a tiny room in the company of a small-minded man who thought he was a murderer. Ralf kicked out at the desk and looked wildly around for any means of escape.

‘
Oi! Sit down and shut it, you!’ growled Minter, a rude reminder that, whilst the policeman was there, all thoughts of escape were futile.

The room was oppressively small a
nd as the minutes ticked by the shaft of sunlight from the tiny window up on the back wall, moved inexorably across the wall. Ralf studied it hopefully, remembering how they’d listened on the other side of it during the meeting about Hart, but it was far too high to reach.

He glanced at the things on the table. Pen, paper,
Charlie Duke's slingshot, marble bag and rabbit’s foot. Was there anything he could use to get out of this mess? He rolled the galaxy, admiring its twinkling centre and glossy surface and then in his frustration clenched it in his fist until his knuckles turned white. Help, he thought. I need help! For an instant, Ralf could have sworn he felt an answering pulse of warmth, but then it faded. Just as he felt ready to scream or burst, he heard knocks on the outer door and then a voice he recognised.

‘Sergeant Minter! It’s me, Valentine Cadwallader! Can I speak to Ralf?’

Minter threw Ralf a ‘not in a million years’ look and folded his paper. ‘Don’t move,’ he instructed. He left, locking the door behind him.

The instant Minter left the room Ralf was on his feet, inwardly congratulating Valen for providing a distraction. He was sliding the table over to the wall, putting his chair on top and clambering on to it when there was a sudden crack on the window.

Wolf!’ Leo’s hoarse whisper echoed up from outside.

Val’s tearful voice filtered through the inner door and he could hear Minter’s deep, calm tones.

‘Now, now, Valentine! You’ll do yourself a mischief getting worked up like that.’

‘But I only want to talk to him!’ Val wailed beseechingly.

Valen was acting a blinder thought Ralf as he opened the window and peered down at Leo who was ready to throw another stone.

When Ralf didn’t move immediately he threw his hands in the air. ‘Are you going to Shift out of there or what?’ Leo asked

But Ralf had heard a loud commotion in the hall, which terrified him.

‘Ow! What are you doing? Let go of me!’ This wasn’t playacting. Valen sounded livid and there was a strange note to her voice. Fear?

Within seconds another sharp cry cut the air and this time there was real anguish in Val’s voice. Then Val fell silent and other angry voices were arguing fiercely.

Over the top of them Minter shouted in disturbed surprise. ‘Come now! You can’t do that, sir! Shame on you!’

Ralf rushed to the locked door but even with his ear pressed close, he could make no sense of what was happening outside.

‘Leave that lass be!’ cried Minter and Ralf heard a strangled cry from Val. There were more voices, raised in anger. Abruptly everything fell silent.

Ralf’s heart beat violently in his chest as he looked from door to window and then back to the door. There was nothing he could do to help Val from in there and there was no time to lose. He thrust the slingshot in one pocket. Then scooped up the rabbit’s foot, leaves and galaxy and shoved them into his marble bag. He squeezed the lumpy, leather package tight in his palm before tucking it into his other pocket.

Spinning round, he did a quick mental calculation of the height of the window then pulled the table a little further away from the wall, wincing at the loud scraping sound it made on the floor. Hurriedly, he pushed the chair in front of it.

‘What are you doing in there, Osborne?’ Minter’s voice came through the door. His footsteps, coming closer across the inside of the Hall, echoed after. Ralf ignored him and backed up against the door. He studied the window, high on the wall opposite.

‘I’ve got enough on my plate here without you carrying on as well!’ called Minter, his voice shaky. Ralf heard the click of the key fitting into the lock. His eyes travelled from the yard of blank floor in front of him to the chair, the table and the window, which now seemed much smaller than it had only moments ago.

Desperately, fearing he’d miscalculate and slice through, leaving a Ralf-shaped hole in the wall like a cartoon roadrunner, he took a deep breath. He stood against the door, feet planted firmly apart and concentrated. His whole body thrilled in anticipation and blood pounded in his ears.

The door handle turned.

The thought, when it came, was surprisingly calm, quiet and clear.

‘Shift.’

There was no blur of colour up his makeshift steps to the window. No arrow of boy shaped fuzziness passing through the small space. Ralf Osborne simply blinked out of the room.

‘Wolf!’ Even though he’d known it was coming, Ralf’s appearance still gave Leo a start.

Ralf gave him a worried smile, just visible in the shadow at the base of the Old Oak. ‘Is Valen okay?’ Ralf asked.  ‘Did you hear that with Mr Hatcher?’

‘Yeah, and I saw it too!’ Leo was clearly outraged but fought to keep his voice low. ‘He’s just gone mental at Valen in the street, grabbing her, screaming. I think he may have hurt her!’

This newest problem rushed into Ralf’s brain to join all the others that were still rattling around there.  He was suddenly very cold and very tired.  He felt like the earth was tilting and everything was slipping away from him. He had a
sudden urge to punch something.

‘Let me think a minute.’ He sighed and ran his fingers through his short hair.
‘Ok, we’ll forget everything else. We have to get Val. I knew Hatcher was behaving oddly but I never thought he could be dangerous.’

‘I’m not sure what we can do Wolf’, said Leo quietly. ‘He’s really big and, you didn’t see him, he was like a mad man. He pulled her out of there by her hair!’

‘Yeah, but Cabal’s big enough to frighten him and strong enough to pull him away if he has too.’

Leo just looked at him
.

‘What Leo?’

‘Cabal’s gone.’ Leo’s voice was hollow. ‘Brindle turned up at the Arbuckles with an official letter from a County Court Judge. Bill argued but in the end there was nothing we could do.’