Larry put his hand out to his older brother to try to quieten him down.
‘What is it, Charlie?’ he asked.
Boris stuck like a limpet to Charlie’s left leg and stared at the boys, then up at Charlie. Finally, she spoke.
‘I would like to know, if you don’t mind, what exactly you two were up to last night when thieves broke into our farm, stole the cattle truck and kidnapped Noble Warrior?’
Harry’s cocky air vanished. His mouth started opening and closing of its own accord. Only one word came out.
‘What?’
‘You heard me,’ replied Charlie coldly. ‘What were you two doing while our precious racehorse was being stolen?’
‘That’s why Boris was barking,’ Larry said. ‘And I told you I heard something. You said it was just the film.’
‘I did not say that, you liar,’ Harry retorted.
‘Did so!’
‘Did not –’
‘SHUT UP!’ shouted Charlie. ‘Shut up, the pair of you! You were meant to be in charge! You were meant to check the horses last thing at night and feed them this morning and you didn’t. You obviously just watched TV until it was so late that you collapsed into bed. You ignored Boris, who was clearly trying to tell you something was wrong, and I’m telling you this now – I am holding you responsible and, if we don’t find Noddy, it will all be your fault!’
Turning on her heel, Charlie ran out of the kitchen, tears pouring down her face.
Outside in the fresh air, she took a deep breath. Shouting at her brothers might have made her feel better for a moment, but it wouldn’t help get Noddy back or make Percy better. It was all hopeless. Just hopeless. Boris jumped up at her leg and she picked him up to let him comfort her. He licked away the tears on her cheeks.
In the barn, Percy was warm with sweat and his head was still hanging low, but he looked up as Charlie came in and flicked his ears forward. Joe was holding a bucket of water and encouraging him to drink.
‘He’s on the mend,’ Joe said. ‘And at least he’s steadier on his feet now. The vet’s given him some electrolytes to help him recover and we’ve got to make him drink a bit more. I think he’s in shock.’
‘I don’t blame him,’ said Charlie, as she stroked Percy’s neck. ‘I think we all are.’
‘Are you OK?’ asked Joe.
‘Not really,’ replied Charlie. ‘I’ve just yelled at Harry and Larry. If they’d been paying more attention to the animals and not watching some silly film, they might have heard the thieves. They could’ve called the police or something. They just don’t care about anyone except themselves.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ replied Joe. ‘They might not show it, but I think they care about Noddy too. I expect they’ve been stung into action and will be searching high and low for clues.’
Percy looked around the barn and, for the first time, seemed to realize he was on his own. He let out a low, soft whinny.
‘He’s not here, my love,’ Charlie explained. ‘But we’ll find him.’
Percy gave another whinny and dropped his head.
Charlie felt like crying again. She had never seen Percy look so lost. He always seemed the confident one, the one who didn’t really need a friend but put up with Noble Warrior’s devotion because it meant he got well fed. Now she realized that their love was mutual. It made her even more determined to act quickly and stop the kidnappers before they got too far away.
‘Those two blokes asked me some funny questions as well,’ said Joe. ‘The whispering one wanted to know whether Noddy had ever pulled a trap.’
‘Pulled a trap?’ Charlie looked confused. ‘What did he mean?’
‘You know those racing carriages? Small and light, a bit like a Roman chariot. That’s what I think he meant anyway. Strange thing to ask.’
‘They asked me that too,’ Charlie suddenly remembered. ‘They called it a cart, but I guess they mean the same thing.’
Suddenly Charlie felt overwhelmed. She had tried so hard not to let emotion overtake her. All the books she had read about what makes Olympians special had emphasized the need to let the head rule the heart, not to get carried away by the situation or the setting or the opposition or the history, just to stay in the moment and play the game. This wasn’t a game she had ever wanted to play, but the same rules applied. It was just so difficult to think clearly when she was so scared.
Joe put his arm round her shoulder as they walked back towards the farmhouse, Boris trotting alongside them.
‘The police should be here soon,’ he said. ‘The sooner we can get on the trail of the cattle truck, the better.’
In the kitchen, Harry and Larry were sitting at the table, looking at a large envelope.
‘Don’t touch it!’ exclaimed Larry. ‘There might be fingerprints.’
‘I won’t, you idiot,’ snapped Harry. ‘I’ve seen just as many detective films as you have.’
‘Don’t start fighting again, boys,’ said Caroline. ‘Let Charlie decide what to do.’
‘We went to look for tyre tracks and found it at the end of the drive,’ explained Larry. ‘It was leaning up against the gatepost. The thieves must have left it before they drove off.’
The envelope was addressed to THE OWNER OF NOBLE WARRIOR.
Charlie put on a pair of washing-up gloves to open it carefully. Inside was a single piece of paper covered in cut-out letters from newspapers. Charlie read it aloud:
Chapter 6
‘It’s just like what happened to Shergar,’ said Bill Bass, shaking his head.
Charlie looked at him with furrowed brows. She knew the name.
‘Remember when we were going through the videos of past Derbies, Joe?’ asked Bill. ‘He’s the one that was so far clear that the jockey on the second horse thought he’d won.’
Joe nodded.
‘So what happened to him?’ Charlie asked.
‘He was an amazing horse. He was owned by the Aga Khan, one of the most powerful men in the world, and ridden by one of the most talented jockeys you’ll ever see – Walter Swinburn. He was only nineteen when he rode him in the 1981 Derby and he was brilliant. They called him ‘the Choirboy’ because he looked so angelic.
‘Anyway, Shergar hit the front miles from home. He came up the straight almost on his own and the crowd clapped all through the last furlong. It was amazing. He won the Irish Derby in a hack canter too, barely looking as if he was trying, and won the King George at Ascot as well. Then he ran in the St Leger at Doncaster, but he got beaten.’
The boys were all ears. They had been trying to talk Charlie into running Noble Warrior in the King George and perhaps the St Leger as well.
‘He was retired to stud, valued at ten million pounds,’ Bill continued. ‘So the Aga Khan syndicated him – like you would with a company – selling thirty-four shares in him. His vet even bought one of the shares.’
‘Must’ve been a rich vet!’ said Larry.
‘Or maybe he twigged it was a good investment,’ said Charlie. ‘After all, he’d know how fit Shergar was and how big his heart was and whether he could pass that on to his offspring. If he was right, he would stand to make tens of millions.’
‘Sadly,’ said Bill, ‘he never got the chance to find out. Neither did the other shareholders.’
‘Why? What happened?’ Harry was desperate to know how the story ended.
‘Shergar was kidnapped. A gang of men, dressed as Irish police officers with balaclavas on, came to the stud. They took the stud groom at gunpoint and forced him to load Shergar into a horsebox. Then they drove the groom around for a few hours before they pushed him out on to a back road somewhere. He never knew where they’d taken the horse.
‘The kidnappers asked the Aga Khan for two million pounds as a ransom. They didn’t realize that he didn’t own the horse any more, or not all of him anyway. Or that the Aga Khan would never agree to pay a ransom because, if he did, every racehorse in Ireland and England would become a target for kidnappers
.’
Charlie looked down at the note and back at her father.
‘Did they get Shergar back?’
Bill glanced at his wife and puffed out his cheeks.
‘No, love, they didn’t. The police never found him and they never caught the kidnappers. It’s one of the great unsolved mysteries.’
The boys were silent. Charlie looked pale. Eventually, she spoke very deliberately.
‘Well, our story is not going to end like that. We’re going to find Noble Warrior. We’re going to get him back. If that means we have to raise the money to pay them, we’ll do it.’
‘I’m so sorry. I know this is all our fault,’ Harry said.
‘Yeah,’ added Larry sheepishly. ‘We should have listened to Boris.’
Charlie stared at her brothers, but said nothing. She was still furious with them and wasn’t prepared to let them off the hook that easily.
‘We need to find the cattle truck,’ Harry said. ‘Dad, did they do that in Ireland when Shergar was taken? Did they try to track the horsebox?’
‘They did,’ said Bill, ‘but the kidnappers had been very clever. They’d chosen a day when the big sales were on and hundreds of horseboxes were on the roads, so the police could never get an accurate sighting.’
‘Hmm …’ Charlie was thinking. ‘What time did Boris start barking last night?’
Harry and Larry shuffled in their chairs and looked down at the table.
‘Um, I don’t know,’ muttered Harry. ‘About midnight, I think.’ He shifted again in his chair.
‘Midnight!’ exclaimed Caroline. ‘What on earth were you two still doing up at midnight?’
‘They told me they were following me straight up to bed, darling. I had no reason to disbelieve them and I’m afraid I didn’t hear a thing.’ Granny Pam pointed to her hearing aid. ‘Took it out to help me sleep. I’m SO sorry.’
‘Granny Pam, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. Nobody is blaming you,’ Charlie said pointedly.
‘So, it was pitch-dark,’ said Bill. ‘Well, that means they won’t have got very far in the cattle truck.’
‘Why not?’ asked Charlie.
‘The headlights don’t work. I was going to get them mended, but then I figured that if we were selling the truck the new owners could do that for themselves.’
‘How far do you think they could have got?’ asked Caroline.
‘To the end of the drive and possibly along the lane, but they couldn’t have driven on the main road, not without headlights. It would be too dangerous. I reckon they might have got to the lay-by up the road, but then they’d have to wait there for sunrise. Oh, and another thing,’ continued Bill. ‘The truck only had about a quarter of a tank of diesel left, so they won’t get much further than sixty miles or so before they’ll need to stop at a garage.’
‘Right,’ said Charlie. ‘Harry, you get working on the iPad. I knew it would come in handy for something other than vlogging. Have a look at Google Maps and find all the garages within sixty miles of here.’
‘Will do,’ said Harry. ‘It should be easy enough to find a phone number for each one too. Larry, you’ll help me do that, won’t you?’
Larry nodded and Charlie marvelled at her brothers’ ability to transform from complete idiots into useful human beings (and often back again) in an instant.
‘Don’t you think we should let the police do all of this?’ asked Caroline. ‘They’re on their way here to talk to us.’
Granny Pam was washing up mugs in the sink. She had been listening carefully.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that, dear,’ she said. ‘As I recall from the Shergar kidnapping, that was the mistake they made. They left it all to the police, and some detective called “Spud” made a COMPLETE mess of it all. I reckon we need to handle as much as we can ourselves. Sometimes the only way to get the job done is to do it yourself.’
She put a mug on to the draining board with a thud.
‘Good point, Granny Pam. You’re a star,’ said Charlie.
‘I was once, my dear. Not any more, but I was once. I played Miss Marple on tour. I might have to channel some of her deduction skills to solve this one.’
Boris started barking and when Charlie looked out of the window there was a police car negotiating its way down the drive.
‘Good lad, Boris. You hear everything, don’t you?’ She patted his head and then looked sideways at her brothers, who were poring over the iPad and writing down phone numbers. ‘Not like some people.’
Harry and Larry were shamefaced. They picked up the iPad and sloped out of the room.
‘I know you’re angry, sweetheart,’ said Caroline. ‘And I know it can make you feel better to blame someone, but it’s not always helpful. We need to find the people who did this and, whatever Harry and Larry’s faults, they did not commit the crime. You need to stay calm and solve the problem, not get angry and shut them out when they could still be helpful. It’s not easy, but you have to try.’
There was a thunderous knock at the door, followed by a loud voice saying, ‘POLICE! Open up.’
Charlie jumped up to let in the two police officers. Both of them were in uniform; one had a hat under his arm, the other kept hers on her head. He was very tall, well over six foot, and she was smaller, maybe five foot five. They showed their badges and the woman said: ‘My name is Chief Inspector Catherine Bronks and this is Sergeant Christopher Bronks.’
The Chief Inspector’s cold tone of voice made Charlie nervous, as if she herself was under suspicion.
‘We’ve been called to investigate the disappearance of …’ Sergeant Bronks hesitated as he looked at his notepad. ‘A horse and a truck.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Charlie showed the two officers into the kitchen, looking from one to the other. They bore a striking resemblance.
‘A bit confusing, I realize,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘Us both being called Bronks. He’s my brother, you see. Joined the force a few years after I did. Couldn’t bear being away from your big sister, could you?’
Chief Inspector Bronks cuffed Sergeant Bronks round the ear, like a lion cub playing with a littermate. Sergeant Bronks didn’t look amused.
‘That’s right, Chief. Couldn’t keep away;’ he said, adding under his breath, ‘believe me, I’ve tried.’
‘Would you like a cup of tea, officers?’ asked Mrs Bass anxiously. ‘A flapjack?’
She held out a plate of blackened oat bricks.
‘No thank you,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘Just a cup of tea would be lovely, Mrs Bass.’
The sergeant also waved away the flapjacks but accepted tea, with four teaspoons of sugar.
‘So,’ said the Chief Inspector, slapping a large notepad on to the table and pulling out a chair, ‘let’s start at the beginning. What kind of a horse is it?’
She sat down with a thud and slurped noisily at her tea while Sergeant Bronks stayed standing.
Charlie explained that Noble Warrior was a thoroughbred and described his colour and his markings.
‘Most distinctive, though, is his behaviour. He’s a very nervous horse and he hates being anywhere without his best friend Percy, who’s a pony. Noble Warrior will be extremely agitated on his own.’
The police officers looked at one another.
‘We had reports of an accident this morning caused by a truck, possibly carrying an animal of some sort’ said Sergeant Bronks. ‘A young girl was badly injured.’
Charlie looked surprised.
‘Where was this?’
‘We are not at liberty to tell you that, miss,’ replied Chief Inspector Bronks firmly. ‘Now if we could return to your case. You say the cattle truck was stolen in the early hours of this morning. Could you describe it for us, please.’
‘It’s an Iveco Fiat livestock truck – 1976. Blue and grey. The back tail light is smashed and the headlights don’t work. Registration YFC 749R.’
As Sergeant Bronks painstakingly noted the details Charlie was giv
ing, Charlie began to feel exasperated. She knew that, for every minute spent talking, Noddy and the cattle truck were another mile further away.
‘My brothers are currently contacting the nearby garages to see if it’s come in to refuel. It only had a quarter of a tank of diesel so it’ll need to fill up soon.’
The Chief Inspector looked impressed.
‘There’s also this.’ Charlie pointed at the ransom note. ‘We found it at the bottom of the drive.’
The Chief Inspector and her brother leaned over the note to examine it more closely.
‘Old-fashioned newsprint, eh? Not exactly cutting-edge technology,’ said Sergeant Bronks. ‘Suggests to me they aren’t professional kidnappers.’
‘We can’t afford to pay a million-pound ransom,’ said Charlie. ‘But if we offer them some of it they might agree, mightn’t they?’
‘I wouldn’t advise that, miss,’ said the Chief Inspector coolly. ‘In our experience, the offer to pay a ransom does not always result in the satisfactory return of the stolen person or item. Or, in this case, animal. Paying the ransom is not the approach we would recommend, even if you could afford the whole amount. It sends a bad signal, I’m afraid.’
‘But surely, if we give them what they want, they’ll give us back what we want,’ replied Charlie desperately. Boris nudged her leg and she leaned down to stroke his head. He always knew when she needed his support.
‘Not necessarily,’ said Sergeant Bronks. ‘More often than not, paying a ransom only encourages the kidnappers to come back for more. Leave it with us, miss. We’ve done this sort of thing before.’
‘Do you mind if I ask HOW MANY times you’ve done this sort of thing before?’ Granny Pam had been eyeing the two police officers with suspicion. ‘And with what success rate?’
‘No, ma’am, you may not ask that.’ The Chief Inspector cut her off, standing abruptly. ‘We need to get going. In most solved kidnapping cases, the victim is found within the first forty-eight hours. After that, the chances of success fall dramatically.’
She shut her notepad and marched to the front door, followed by her brother, leaving the ransom note on the table.
The Racehorse Who Disappeared Page 5
