This was too much. Kevin struggled to his feet and in a welter of furious dogs, he staggered towards his van. Managing to shake off the Peke, blood pouring from his nose, he reached for the door handle.
But now it was Fleck’s turn. Before Kevin could open the door, the Tottenham terrier raced up to him, sprang up – and bit him savagely in the behind.
And Kevin stumbled, fell forward on to the foot plate, and passed out.
It was there that Pippa found him, and after that everything went very quickly. Hal’s thumps from inside the hut grew louder. Pippa ran up to the door and saw the padlock. Searching the lout’s trousers, she found the key. Within minutes Hal was free and trying to calm his ecstatic dog, while Pippa relocked the door.
“We’ll have to go up on to the moors,” she said when she heard what had happened. “We can’t risk the road now. While the sun’s up we ought to be able to navigate all right. It’s practically due east to the coast.”
They set off up the hill, the dogs still excitedly circling them. The going was hard over the rough ground but they did not dare to slow down till they were sure that Kevin was not following them. After a couple of hours the children were exhausted.
“I’m going to get my breath back,” said Pippa when they came to a patch of grass and scrub on which a few juniper bushes grew.
She flopped down and Hal sat down beside her.
“Here, Fleck,” he said, feeling in his pocket. “You can have your flannel for a bit. I reckon you’ve earned it.”
Fleck mouthed the flannel and wagged a polite tail. But just then the dogs heard something interesting in the bushes and in a flash all five of them were off in pursuit.
“Was it a hare?” asked Hal.
Pippa shrugged. “I didn’t see. But they must be very hungry. Maybe they’ll catch something they can eat. They’ll be back in a minute.”
Pippa was right. The dogs returned presently. Whatever it was had been too fast for them. But when Hal patted Fleck he saw that Fleck had lost his flannel.
“Where is it?” he asked his dog. “Where’s your flannel?”
Fleck looked down at the ground, then up at Hal, ran back a few paces and returned, while Hal looked at him, worried. Was there going to be a fuss? Up to now he had guarded his flannel with his life.
But after a moment Fleck sat down and began contentedly to lick his paws. It didn’t matter any longer where his flannel was. When he bit Kevin, Fleck had tasted buttock blood, and a dog who has done that has moved a long, long way from flannels.
19
Tracker Dogs
It was Curzon himself who took the call from Kevin on the hillside, and he hung up feeling extremely excited and pleased. What a breakthrough! The boy not only sighted but actually caught: imprisoned in a shed and only waiting to be picked up.
For a few moments Curzon, in his mind, spent the reward money which Donald Fenton would pay him. He wasn’t so sure now about the yacht. A friend of his was building holiday homes on a Pacific island. Incredible houses they were, with five different swimming pools as well as the sea. Come to that, why wait till Fenton came up with the cash? Why not put down a deposit now? Leaning back in his chair, Curzon imagined himself standing on the top diving board, about to do a swallow dive into the turquoise water, while a cluster of beautiful girls in bikinis watched him from below. Then he remembered that Sprocket had to be sent north at once to bring the boy back, and he picked up the phone again.
“Sprocket?” he barked. “I need you straightaway. You’ve got to go up north – the boy’s been sighted.”
“Yes, sir. I know. But I am up north already.”
“Eh? What? What are you talking about?”
Curzon was completely confused. It was true he hadn’t seen Sprocket all day, but he often didn’t see him all day, and as a matter of fact he liked it better that way.
“I’m in Todcaster, sir,” came Sprocket’s patient voice. “I left you a message.”
“Oh, you did, did you? I’m afraid the computer’s down.”
Actually what had happened was that Curzon had found what seemed to him a load of gobbledegook on his screen and simply erased it. He could never remember codes.
“Now listen carefully,” he went on. “The message is from someone called Kevin Dawks. He’s on the road between Hilldale and Grant End.” He read off Kevin’s instructions. “‘No policemen,’ he said. He won’t talk to anyone in uniform. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely. I’ll make my way there at once.”
Sprocket had had a miserable time in Todcaster. After driving through the night, he arrived at the circus to find the stable lad who had phoned him in a raging temper.
“He’s done a bunk,” he told Sprocket. “Must have pushed off last night, but it was him all right, so I want some of that reward.”
After that, Sprocket had questioned various people in the circus, who told him that the boy had gone back to his Aunt Elsa who had sent for him because her brother-in-law had to have an operation.
Anyone else might have given up then, but not Sprocket. Ferreting around, he learned that some children from a care home had come to the circus, and been seen talking to the boy. So he drove to Greystoke House and parked his van opposite the gates.
He had just got out his binoculars and was getting ready to do some serious investigating when a woman knocked on the window and asked him for a cauliflower.
“A nice firm one,” she said, “but not too big. There’s only the two of us now, with my daughter having gone off to London.”
It was quite difficult to get rid of her, and in a way Sprocket blamed himself. If he had disguised the van as belonging to a plumber instead of a greengrocer, there would have been no bother. But though he had worked hard on his plumbing poem as he drove through the night, he hadn’t been able to find a suitable rhyme for toilet. There was “oil it” of course, but if there was one thing people didn’t want near their lavatories it was a lot of oil.
But there was worse to come. No sooner had he fixed his binoculars to his eyes than a fat woman burst through the gates and started threatening him.
“How dare you, you dirty old man!” she yelled. “I’ll have the police after you, spying on innocent children.”
As he drove away, Sprocket had been very upset. He was only twenty-six, and being called old was hurtful. So when his phone rang and he heard Curzon’s message, his spirits soared. Stopping only to adjust his moustache and consult his road map (because the instruction book for the new sat nav seemed to be in Finnish) he set off for the village of Hilldale.
Kevin had come round to find his trousers torn, and both his backside and his nose still painful, but the knowledge that he would soon be a rich man consoled him. And the wretched boy had gone quiet at last; there was no sound from inside the shed.
His first sight of the white van coming up the track made him start to his feet angrily. He didn’t want any bloomin’ vegetables and what did the bloke think he was doing, trespassing like that? But Sprocket’s first words allayed his fears.
“Milton Sprocket, from MMM,” he announced. “I gather you have the boy.”
“I’ve got the boy, but have you got the money?’
“The money will be forthcoming,” said Sprocket grandly. “As soon as I deliver the boy.”
“All right,” said Kevin. “Come on. He’s in the shed there. I had a devil of a time keeping him in.”
“Is he violent?” Sprocket asked anxiously. Children grew up very early these days, he knew, and they were strong. It was all that healthy food they were given to eat, and the exercise they took.
Kevin threw him a contemptuous glance. He unlocked the padlock, loosened the bolt, and stepped back.
Nothing happened.
“Come on out. I know you’re in there.”
Silence. Kevin made his way into the shed – and came out again.
“He’s done a bunk, the little …”
The language Kevin used surprised Sprocket. Some of the words he simply did not know, although he was a poet.
“He was in here,” said Kevin when he had sworn himself to a standstill. “It was him all right.”
“I don’t doubt it. He was seen in Todcaster last night.”
“I won’t be beaten by a squirt of a boy,” said Kevin. “But it’s all right, I know a friend who’ll help us find him. Come on. You can leave the van here.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to see Colin. He’ll put Darth and Terminator on the job. The boy won’t get away from them, I promise you.”