by Jennie Finch
‘I think we need someone to come and get that bloody thing,’ said Tom. ‘Soonest, too. Could be a dud but could go off any time. Where’s that daft lad?’
Ada nodded towards the back garden where Charlie was still sitting obediently on the chair.
‘Here, you get yerself and these dogs into my van and I’ll go get him,’ said Tom handing her the keys. ‘I’ll drive us into ‘Zoyland and let the polis know. Get someone to clear it out for us.’
‘You lock that old thing?’ Ada said taking the keys. ‘Out here?’
Tom grinned at her as he shouldered the gate further open.
‘You never know,’ he said. ‘Out here on the Levels, is gypsies and all types around. Can’t be taking no chances.’
Friday afternoons were traditionally fairly quiet at the probation offices. Workshop sessions finished around four in the afternoon and not many clients wanted to make the run into town and risk getting caught up in the rush hour traffic as the chicken factory turned out and office and shop workers headed home. Alex looked at her diary and saw she had only one appointment left – Jake Hollis, who was dropping in after work.
When her phone rang she was deep in some planning, setting out the exact details of her clandestine ‘drink/drive’ evening and her immediate reaction was to shove the notes under a pile of unfinished Part Bs. Stupid, she thought lifting the receiver. Still, it did show how nervous she was about the whole thing.
‘Yes?’
‘You got time to see Brian?’ came Lauren’s voice from reception. ‘He’s all excited and bouncing around out here, going on about making his fortune.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Think he could be on summat – you know. Maybe if you had a word, calmed him down a bit?’
Alex checked her watch and suppressed a sigh. ‘Send him down,’ she said wearily.
‘Cheers,’ said Lauren. ‘I owe you one.’
Only a few seconds passed before Brian burst through the door, every bit as excited as Lauren had described. Alex held up a hand to stall his excited babble, pointing to the chair in front of her.
Brian dropped into it, a broad grin on his face as he rummaged in the carrier bag clutched in his hand.
‘Told you I’d find summat good,’ he said. ‘Now what do you think of that?’ He pulled out a metal object, the twin to Charlie’s and placed it lovingly on the desk.
Alex sprang to her feet, stepping back carefully to avoid touching the surface where the bomb sat, sinister and menacing in its bright painted colours.
‘Oh bloody hell,’ she said softly. ‘Oh shit …’
Sliding round the edge of the desk, she held up both hands as Brian lifted his carrier bag and pulled out a second device.
‘Put it down very carefully,’ said Alex, voice rough with tension. ‘Just gently on the floor. Now push the chair back away from the desk – don’t touch the bag!’
Brian looked up at her, puzzled and hurt by her reaction. ‘But I thought you’d be pleased,’ he said. ‘Gonna sell um – and the others too.’
Alex took a deep breath and pointed at him sternly.
‘Get up very, very slowly and move towards the door,’ she said. ‘No, don’t speak. Imagine that’s – oh, a sleeping rattlesnake on the desk. Now, move away from the snake, Brian. That’s right – now get out and tell reception to ring the police and report a couple of unexploded bombs in the office.’
Brian’s eyes widened in horror and Alex yelled to get his attention.
‘Go!’ He was out of the door and running before she got past her overflowing bookcase. ‘I have so got to tidy up a bit,’ she muttered, lunging to catch the door before it slammed shut. With a final glance round her room she hurried down the corridor expecting at any moment to hear an explosion behind her.
There was chaos in the reception area as she emerged from the deserted day centre. Lauren had rung upstairs to inform Gordon and a full evacuation was in progress with officers and admin staff scrambling for the door.
‘Everyone outside and into the park,’ bellowed Gordon. ‘Quickly now. Just take what you are carrying – no going back inside.’ He pointed to Alison who was dithering by the office door.
‘My bag’s in there with my new credit card,’ she protested.
‘Out,’ said Gordon firmly. ‘Are you all right Alex? Lauren called the police and they’re evacuating the rest of the street and getting some bomb disposal chaps in.’
Alex nodded, shaken by events but glad help was on the way.
‘Was it a phone call or what?’ he asked steering her out of the front door and round the yard to the main gates.
Alex shook her head and smiled grimly.
‘It’s a Mills bomb,’ she said. ‘Well, two actually. Brian took that bloody metal detector of his out onto the Levels and unearthed them. Said they were “buried treasure” and unpacked them onto my desk.’
Gordon stared at her, lost for words. ‘Right,’ he said finally. ‘The police will need to know about this as soon as they get here. They want to speak to you anyway and our local Inspector asked if you could be on hand. Stay round the corner from the yard until they get here, mind, just in case.’ With that he was gone, cutting across the car park to check everyone was safely out of the offices.
Alex leaned against the gates, shivering as the shock of the last few minutes hit her. For a few minutes she stood, eyes closed against the late afternoon sun that streamed down from the sky, just above the roof line of the old building. The heat seeped into her like warm honey, flowing through her tired body until it rested in her bones. Slowly the tension in her shoulders began to slip away and she felt a sense of calm returning.
Her good mood was cut short by someone stepping between her and the soothing sunlight, casting a shadow across her face. She snapped her eyes open, squinting against the halo surrounding the figure in front of her.
‘Oh, Jake. Hello. No, you can’t go in,’ she said holding out her hand to stop him brushing past her.
‘Why not?’ asked Jake Hollis stiffly. ‘I’m on time for my appointment. What’s going on?’ He looked around in alarm as several police cars turned the corner at speed, screeching to a halt about twenty yards up the street. In seconds a dozen police officers were knocking on the few occupied houses in the road. Jake eyed this activity nervously, swallowing and stepping back towards the gatepost as the Inspector from Highpoint almost trotted down the road towards them.
‘Miss Hastings,’ he said, ignoring Jake completely.
Alex managed a rather sickly smile, taking the proffered hand in a slightly moist handshake.
‘Now, where did they say the bomb is supposed to be,’ continued the Inspector. ‘It is probably a hoax but I’m obliged to take anything of this nature seriously, especially considering the run-up to the election and our MP’s current job description as Secretary for Northern Ireland.’
He tried a friendly smile, obviously hoping to put Alex at ease but the result was rather too conspiratorial to be reassuring.
Jake, in the meantime, had begun to edge away from them both, seeking to make his escape.
‘Excuse me,’ said Alex and caught hold of the probationer’s sleeve.
‘I’m sorry about your appointment,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to reschedule for next week. As you can see, these are rather unusual events.’ She gestured towards the people emerging through their front doors, glancing nervously in her direction before being ushered away by the police.
‘It’s most inconvenient,’ said Jake. ‘I came in especially after work. I don’t see I should have to do it again next week.’
Alex narrowed her eyes and glared at him.
‘You will come in when and where I say you will,’ she said softly. ‘And anyway, you only live down the road in the hostel. You come back past here every night.’
‘I had other plans,’ said Jake angrily and stalked off, his back rigid as he strove to contain his temper. At the top of the road he stooped to unlock his bicycle, carefully unthreading the cha
in from some railings before setting off up the street and out of sight.
‘What a nice young man,’ said the inspector. ‘Are they all as charming as that?’
Alex shook her head in frustration. ‘He’s one of clever ones,’ she said. ‘Not like Brian who delivered the damn Mills bombs.’
Several officers gathered around her as she described the events of the last hour. ‘There was no malice involved,’ she repeated several times. ‘He didn’t do it deliberately. He just didn’t realise what he was carrying.’
‘Sounds like he was lucky not to blow hisself up,’ observed one of the officers.
Alex nodded. ‘I think they are old butterfly bombs,’ she said. The Inspector raised an eyebrow at this and she hurried on. ‘My mother was in London all through the war and she told me about them. Sort of little hand grenades or mines but they were painted bright colours and dropped by parachute so they didn’t go off until someone picked them up. Usually a child,’ she added angrily.
There was a crackling sound from the nearest car and one of the uniformed men reached in and answered the radio.
‘Excuse me, Sir,’ he called, his voice strained with the urgency of his message. ‘Sorry to interrupt but word is there’s another one, out on the Levels near Westonzoyland.’
The Inspector rounded on Alex, fixing her with a stern look.
‘We need to speak to Brian,’ he said. ‘Two incidents of this type make a whole different situation.’ He turned away and issued instructions to a couple of constables. ‘We must consider him potentially dangerous,’ he said. ‘Take him to the secure cells and notify the security detail as soon as you find him.’ He held up his hand to forestall Alex’s protests.
‘I’m sorry but there are protocols in place,’ he said. ‘This should be handled as a potential terrorist situation. The Minister for Northern Ireland is in town at present, canvassing for the election, and he has several high-profile public engagements in the next day or so. This must be handed over to his team at once.’
He turned away, dismissing Alex from his consideration as he issued instructions to the officers around him. Alex waited for a moment before making her way slowly up the street and along the footpath to the park where the rest of the staff from the office was assembled. They would be eager for news, she thought. She hadn’t a clue what she was going to tell them.
Chapter Fifteen
It was the worst possible start to an evening Alex had anticipated for days. The police had kept them all corralled in the cooling evening air for an hour and a half before finally allowing them to leave. A number of the staff had cars in the yard and there were two issues to be resolved there. Firstly, the police were not letting anyone in for fear the two bombs went off and caused injury or worse. On the other hand, the bomb disposal squad were keen to get all of the remaining civilian vehicles out of range, just in case.
‘Not that we anticipate any difficulties,’ said the officer in charge standing at the end of the yard and eyeing the vehicles with concern. ‘Still, it is very old ordinance and that can be tricky. Don’t want to run any unnecessary risks.’
There was some debate about exactly who should go in and move the cars, a discussion rather complicated by Ricky’s insistence only he should move his old Austin.
‘It’s extremely valuable,’ he said. ‘Tricky to drive too, unless you know what you are doing. I don’t want just anybody messing around with it.’
Finally the senior officer had a quiet word with Gordon who took Ricky off to one side. When Ricky returned he was very pale and handed over his keys without a murmur before stalking off to the folly by the main garden. Here he rolled himself another of his trademark tiny cigarettes and sat on his own, smoking and staring out over the park.
‘What did you say to him?’ asked Sue, eyeing the sulking figure in the background.
‘The officer pointed out how unstable these sort of things can be,’ said Gordon. ‘Even the sound and vibration from a car engine might be enough to set them off. Ricky decided that he would prefer the experts to move his car under the circumstances.’ It was a credit to his professionalism that he managed to respond without cracking a smile.
Sue was not so restrained and gave a wicked giggle at the thought of Ricky’s precious ‘vintage’ car being manhandled by a heavy-footed soldier in muddy boots.
‘Any idea when we can go?’ asked Alex, who was getting more worried with every passing minute. What if Margie turned up early and found the house empty? Would she just go away or would she wait? Alex had planned an elaborate welcome and a special meal but as the minutes ticked away all her hopes began to fade with them. At this rate, she thought glaring at her watch, she’d not have time to cook anything. They’d be eating late into the evening as it was.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Gordon. ‘The police want to talk to you again about what Brian actually said and the bomb squad will need to get more details of exactly what is in the room. I think you’ll be here for a while.’
‘I only live over there,’ said Alex gesturing down the riverbank to the row of terraced houses. ‘Can’t they just come and get me?’
Gordon shook his head. ‘I wish we could all take shelter in your house,’ he said. ‘I could really do with a cup of tea right now but they were insistent you need to be on hand, at least for a while longer.’
‘Can I go?’ asked Sue. Alex gave her a hurt look and Sue added, ‘I can wait back at the house and make sure there’s someone there to welcome your friend. I could make a start on the dinner if you like.’
Alex suppressed a groan. It was very kind of Sue, who hated cooking almost as much as everyone else hated eating her food, but the thought of the lovely fresh (and expensive) ingredients she had marshalled being subjected to Sue’s ministrations was just too depressing.
‘I’m sure I won’t be long,’ she said. ‘Could you let her in and maybe give her a drink? Explain what’s happened and I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Gordon nodded his agreement and Sue set off across the park.
‘Oh, I forgot,’ she called. ‘What’s your friend called?’
‘Margie,’ Alex replied, ignoring Lauren’s sharp look. ‘She’s from Bristol.’ Now why did I say that, she wondered, turning to meet Lauren’s gaze. ‘What?’
‘Nothin,’ said Lauren. ‘Would that be who we saw out Brean way then?’
Alex shrugged, trying to make light of the whole thing but Lauren was relentless.
‘Was Margie at Bristol nick, looked out for Kevin wasn’t it. She still here then?’
Despite the temptation to grind her teeth in frustration, Alex kept her face seemingly indifferent.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘She’s been down here, doing some work at Shepton. I thought it would be nice to make her feel a bit welcome.’
Lauren blinked at her before turning away, disappointed by her friend’s lack of reaction.
‘Well, seein’ as they’s got my car out I’ll be off home. Maybe see you over the weekend,’ she said. She ambled off down the towpath towards the main road where a very uncomfortable looking policeman was struggling to get out of the front seat of her specially modified vehicle. She watched for a moment as the inevitable crowd of gawpers pressed a little too close to the police tape and were ushered back to a safe distance but she was tired after a long week and decided it was unlikely the building was going to blow up, so there was little sense in staying.
Struggling with the seat that the police officer had left pushed right to the end of the runners and down as low as it could possibly go, she settled herself in her car and, executing a nifty three-point turn, set off through town. It would be nice to have a quiet weekend, especially if Dave could get a day off. Not that likely though, with the ‘Moth Man’ search still going strong. There had been more than enough excitement for one week, she decided. Swinging out to pass a cyclist, she put the car into top gear and roared off down the main road towards home.
No-one was likely to note his absence
from the evening meal at the hostel. In fact they would have been surprised if he had actually turned up, so rarely did Samuel deign to eat with his fellow residents. It was perfectly normal for him to disappear in the morning, returning to the hostel just before curfew. As long as he attended his meetings with Alex Hastings and went to the designated sessions at the day centre no-one questioned him, and Peter Marks had given up trying to enrol him on the ‘Ladder of Achievement’. It had taken a while but finally everything was in place and Samuel was, to all outward appearances, just doing exactly what he always did.
His afternoon run took him out to the edge of the north moor, a desolate and deserted piece of marshland bisected by the Taunton canal and cut into small, relatively dry areas of peat and bog by man-made ditches and rhynes. There was little in the way of cover but a few trees grew at Northmoor Corner and there were several tumble-down brick shelters nearby, remains of overnight huts for peat cutters but now used by illegal elver fishers during the spring season. Samuel had the location of each one fixed firmly in his mind along with the nearest routes in and out of the area.
Nothing was left to chance and he savoured the moments of calm before the climax of his visit, first rescuing the pineapple tin from its new location. He was pleased to see there were no signs it had been disturbed and the path nearby bore a few tyre tracks from the occasional bicycle but nothing recent. As the sun moved across the sky and the birds began to gather for their early evening flight across the landscape, Samuel settled down in the cover of the trees, savouring the warmth on his skin and the welcome solitude.
His position overlooked the canal and in the distance he could see the tiny village of North Newton. The original cottages were clustered around the crossroads where a few shops supplied the basic demands of the villagers. With the larger towns of Highpoint and Taunton within easy reach, most people shopped outside their immediate area now, picking up their groceries on the way home from work. There was even a special bus, run by a local supermarket, to transport those without cars away from their local shops.
