Archer's Mystery At Mainswell

by Edward Fisher

  ‘Woof!’ he barked in thanks as he stuck his head out of the tent. Archer sniffed the cool, crisp morning air a few times before finally extricating his whole body from the tent. He ran off into the field, oblivious of the time of day, happy that the world was coming back to life, a life he felt particularly full of this morning. After all, he had reason to be happy - he had completed the jigsaw in his sleep. This was actually a difficult point for Archer because he had no way of communicating his discernment to his friends, much less the ability to steer them towards the real answer. It was, in fact, his peculiarly acute nasal senses that had helped him work out the puzzle. That and a lot of time with nothing else to worry about. And so, as he ran excitedly through the field that early morning, his tail was held high, wagging furiously with joy.

  The ground was damp with early morning dew and Archer rolled in the grass at intervals as he luxuriated in the freedom. He darted from one rabbit hole to another, but there was no fresh scent. Half ruefully, he wondered if the animals had spread the news that there was a dog in the field and if they’d all packed their bags and gone on vacation to another field. It didn’t bother him much, although he was still hoping to catch just one rabbit before the end of the holiday.

  After he had played in the field for about an hour Archer returned to the girl’s tent. Only when he was standing in the middle of the tent did he seem to realise that his fur was wet. For some peculiar reason this began to trouble him. So he shook his body vigorously until the droplets of water flew off his coat and ended up all over the rest of the tent.

  ‘Archer!’ screamed the girl, suddenly awakened by the cold shower that had fallen on her face. ‘You’re supposed to do that outside.’

  ‘Woof,’ he replied as the shaking subsided.

  ‘What time is it now?’ The rhetorical question was answered as she looked at her watch. ‘Seven-fifteen. Thanks, Archer, only another hour to breakfast and you had to ruin it for me. Now lie down and don’t move.’

  ‘Woof,’ he barked softly, almost playfully. Archer did sit down. The place he chose was a sort of sprawl right across the girl’s stomach.

  ‘Ow! You’re crushing me, you brute.’ She shoved him, but from her position it was almost a meaningless gesture.

  ‘Woof,’ he replied, as if to say that he was only doing what she had told him to do, and that was to lie down and not move.

  ‘Get off me!’ she cursed softly at the canine idiot.

  ‘Grrr.’ The dog’s tone of voice changed as he realised she wasn’t playing games. His growl was a warning to her not to get forceful. As if suddenly understanding why she was cross, the dog stood up - painfully slowly, but nonetheless he got up and moved off her body before lying down again.

  The next hour passed by quickly and soon the youngsters were meeting over breakfast. The meal was almost through when the conversation turned once again to the events of the previous night.

  ‘I want to get up to that windmill early this morning to have a good look round before they turn up,’ Mark began. ‘We need to find a position where we can see and hear what’s going on, and from what I remember from yesterday, that might take a bit of time. Plus we don’t want to arrive when they’re already there. The last thing we want to do is bump into them, though it would be nice to get a good look at them without being seen.’

  ‘Are you taking the canine disaster zone with you?’ Rebecca’s voice was almost pleading. She had already shared what had happened in the early hours of the morning.

  ‘Yeah, but I don’t know where we’ll hide him. You obviously won’t want him hanging around the farm this morning, and he’d get plain bored just nosing around. So, yes, we’ll take him.’

  ‘Good. And there is just one more thing. Can he sleep outside the tent tonight?’

  ‘Don’t see why not, if it’s not raining. If it is, we’ll have to work something out.’

  ‘Yes.’ The single word carried a good deal of victorious weight with it.

  ‘And you’ll be able to go into the village again, will you? Or do you want us to do that on our way back?’ James intervened.

  ‘No. I’ll do it. Mary and I are good friends, and you probably wouldn’t get any of the villagers to talk to you on your own. They treat strangers very warily round here. So that’s definitely something for me to do.’

  ‘Okay,’ Mark said as the three of them began to walk down to the farm. ‘Before we go, I just want to send Father that stuff back on Cyclops.’

  ‘That’s okay by me, but won’t he be really cross with you for doing it?’ asked his cousin.

  ‘Can’t be helped. He’s got to learn that security is important on computers these days, especially if they’re on a modem.’

  With that, Mark had reached the front door to the farmhouse. Taking off his shoes he was soon upstairs in the girl’s bedroom. Carefully he shut the door, just in case anyone was around. He punched a few buttons on the computer and soon opened the file containing the document he wanted to send. Within a few moments he’d programmed the software to transmit the required data. Then he turned to a new document and began to type in a message furiously. He wasn’t too concerned with the accuracy of the spelling. This message was important, and would form the basis of a rescue mission if, for any reason, he did not come back and cancel it before it was sent. As he finished the message, he glanced at his watch for a second, paused as if in thought and then, having made a decision, added a transmission time to the message. There was the sound of footsteps on the floor outside the door as he punched the last few keys. This action resulted in a soft beep being transmitted from the computer and then, just as the door opened, the screen went completely blank. No message had actually been sent yet, but it had been entered in a queue to be transmitted later on.

  ‘How’s it going?’ The question from his cousin contained a degree of questioning interest in what her elder cousin was doing.

  ‘Oh, fine. It just took a couple of moments to sort out where I put the file yesterday, and then to send it to my PC at home.’

  ‘But I thought Cyclops, or whatever you call it -’

  ‘Yes, Cyclops.’

  ‘Well I thought he’d send it for you whenever you wanted him too.’

  ‘And he will. But I wanted to see this one go for real, just to make sure it got through.’ Mark lied, but he didn’t want the others to know that he considered that they were placing themselves in increasing danger, and accordingly he had prepared at least the rudiments of an escape option. He didn’t want Rebecca, in particular, to know, because it would have worried her. She just might have told Uncle Jack, and that would have been the end of the adventure. Though he didn’t know why, Mark also had a feeling somewhere deep inside him, that this whole thing was big, with a capital B-I-G.

  ‘So you’ve finished then?’

  ‘Yep. Just as you came in; look, it’s all shut down.’

  True, the screen was blank, and the computer certainly looked as if it was turned off.

  ‘Let’s get on with things then. Coming?’ She asked him as she turned back through the door.

  Breathing an almost imperceptible sigh of relief, Mark followed her downstairs to where James was waiting in the doorway.

  ‘We’ll get those bikes out and be on our way. Archer will have to walk or run beside us. I don’t think the exercise will do him any harm though. He’s having the time of his life out here in the country.’ Mark’s air was one of joviality as he put back on the shoes he’d left lying just outside the door.

  The boys arrived at the shed and picked up their bikes. Though they had spent some time the previous afternoon cleaning them and checking the tyres, brakes and so forth, the bikes still showed the signs of their age. Rust was very much evident and the bikes’ appeal was more functional than cosmetic. Nevertheless, the boys mounted and rode off, leaving their cousin to once again open the shop and to later follow her own line of enquiry.

  The boys had barely left the farm and headed off for the windmill whe
n their uncle came out of the machine shed.

  ‘Bec, have you got a moment? Where are the boys?’

  ‘They’ve, err, gone out for a bit. Be back about lunchtime. Something they wanted to do and I didn’t. As I was doing the shop anyway, it seemed like a good time for them to go off on their own.’

  ‘I guess so. But won’t they get lost?’

  ‘Shouldn’t think so. They’ve got a map, and Archer, so I guess they’re pretty safe. What did you want anyway.’

  ‘Not much. Tom’s still not well, so I’m on my own again today. Seems like this back is a bit of a problem for him, so he’s resting up. Could you do some shopping for us in the village later on if you’ve got time?’

  ‘Yeah, no problems. I was going in to have a chat with Mary later on anyway. Girlie things, you know. Is there a list to take or have I got to make one up first?’

  ‘There’s a list. It’s on the kitchen table, and some money as well. And please, can I have the change back?’

  ‘Yeah, as long as I can have an ice cream or something out of it.’

  ‘Okay, but until I get the top field full of campers, cash flow is a bit tight, so go easy. I’ve had to buy some bits for the machines, which I hadn’t anticipated.’

  ‘Fret not - I won’t go mad. I never have done before.’

  ‘I know you haven’t, but I just thought I’d explain the situation. There was something else. Now, what was it?’

  ‘Something to buy?’

  ‘No. Oh yeah. When you see Mark could you ask him to phone his father? He sounded pretty cross to me, so I suggest he does it from the farm phone as soon as they come back. He hasn’t done anything daft, has he?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Rebecca managed to keep a serious face though inside she was laughing at the prospect of Mark getting what he deserved in way of retribution for his computer antics of the last couple of days. ‘I’d better go and open up the shop. I don’t want to keep the customers waiting. See you later.’

  ‘See you later, and thanks, Bec.’

  Her father disappeared into the shed once again and Rebecca turned on her heels and went round to the shop. She wondered exactly what Mark’s father had to say to his son. It certainly didn’t sound like he was too pleased with the joke, although Rebecca could see that what had been done was for his own good in the long run.

  Chapter 13

  The boys cycled cautiously along the country roads, following the same route that the horse and cart had taken the previous day.

  ‘Mark, that must be the third police car we’ve seen this morning,’ said James after they’d cycled about three miles.

  ‘Yeah. Something’s up.’

  ‘Could it be to do with the Manor House burglary, do you think?’

  ‘Maybe, but that was a couple of days ago now. If they’re linked in any way then it’s more likely to be that something happened last night.’

  ‘Our mystery man in his car?’

  ‘Again, maybe, but they didn’t mention a job when they met last night.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s nothing to do with them. Look, there’s another one, and like the last two, it’s heading towards Mainswell. No flashing lights or sirens, but still going pretty fast.’

  ‘And someone, plain clothes, sitting in the back. Curious.’

  ‘Okay, now watch where you’re going. This road isn’t any too even, and you nearly hit me then.’

  They rode on in silence, each with their own thoughts. Archer, almost dutifully, ran beside them. Keeping up was easy; neither bike looked capable of going any faster than a quick walking pace, and Archer was enjoying all the exercise this holiday was bringing. His own thoughts as he trotted happily alongside the bicycles were somewhat different to those of the boys. While they pondered what was going on, why there was the profusion of police cars, why the clandestine meetings on the road below their tents, Archer was very close indeed to the answer. Archer had a distinct advantage over the boys. He had an advantage because he’d been to places they hadn’t, he’d seen things they hadn’t, or at least he had remembered them, and they hadn’t. Moreover, he had a particularly good scent memory, and they, judging by the foot odour he had detected earlier that morning, didn’t.

  Archer had, in fact, already tied up a number of pieces of the puzzle that the boys couldn’t have worked out. Archer’s thoughts at this precise time were twofold. Firstly, he was wondering why the boys’ thinking was so much slower than his own, and secondly he was trying to puzzle out why the people involved were involved. Admittedly he hadn’t met all of them yet, but he had a feeling the missing person was about to make an appearance. Something else was also puzzling Archer. When he’d been alone in the work shed the previous day, there had been one particular smell. It had been very faint, far too weak for a human proboscis to detect, but to Archer it was a definite presence. And it was something he’d felt he should have been able to identify. During the night his doggy dreams had helped him complete the jigsaw, even though he’d had to make a few assumptions along the way. Those assumptions had seemed logical, and they made everything else fit. Everything, that is, with the exception of one faint smell. It had vexed him, and his doggy grey cells had been spurred into action until they had been wracked with exhaustion. Something had told him that the smell was important, yet until this morning it had not quite fitted in with anything. Then, when he’d been waiting at the front door with James, he’d smelled it again. The aroma inside the house was slightly stronger than the one in the work shed, but it was definitely the same. Archer assumed, wrongly as it happened, that the aroma belonged to Rebecca. Thus convinced that it was not part of the main puzzle, Archer congratulated himself on solving the problem way ahead of his human counterparts. His contented doggy grin was equivalent to him now sitting back and enjoying himself while the humans toiled towards their own deductions. And so Archer trotted beside the bicycles, enjoying the fresh pungency of the country air.

  He was not surprised when eventually they turned the corner in the road and the windmill came into view. It was, after all, necessary for the humans to go there. He sniffed as they approached the doorway.

  Stale chicken, cigarette, various other smells and something else – Archer’s acute sense of smell quickly identified the various aromas. He once again detected the strange aroma he’d first picked up in the work shed. It was faint, even fainter than the scent in the work shed. He stopped momentarily as he detected this scent, and his hackles began to rise on his neck.

  ‘What is it boy?’ whispered James cautiously. ‘Is there someone in there?’

  Archer looked quizzically at James, as if to say ‘Do you think I’d be standing here if there was?’ and proceeded to step towards the door.

  ‘Hello?’ called out Mark.

  ‘What the -’

  ‘Just seeing if anyone’s around. We don’t want to stumble into anything do we?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  Mark called out a second time. There was no response, probably because no one was there. Mark carefully opened the door and the boys slipped inside. Archer did not follow them, but preferred to run off into the bushes. James began to move off to catch him but Mark called him back, suggesting it would be better if Archer were left outside - inside he might be heard, or worse, bark at anyone that arrived.

  Quickly the boys reconnoitred the windmill. It was much as Mark had remembered, a solid floor, and rickety steps leading up high into the drive mechanism housing.

  The boys looked round, searching for a good hiding place. It was hard to imagine that the inside offered any protection at all. James tapped the floorboards with his shoe and soon came to the conclusion that although the floor sounded hollow, it was sturdy and there was no trapdoor in evidence. There was, in fact, a single trapdoor, but the ring-pull handle had become obscured by dirt, and the door was such a good fit that the boys could not have hoped to find it unless the floor had been swept clean.

  ‘Nothing under the floor,’ James began, when
both boys suddenly stood upright, their ears straining to hear the new sound from outside. The gentle purr of the car engine became steadily louder. Reacting to the situation, James rushed to the door and peered through a crack.

  ‘Trouble - we’ve got company. What now?’ He looked appealingly at his brother.

  ‘There’s nothing for it. We go up.’

  ‘What! That ladder will never carry us!’

  ‘Yes it will. Now get up there, and fast.’

  James’s ascent was speeded up by the sudden silence as the car engine was switched off. He reached the top of the steps just a second ahead of Mark.

  ‘Good job we hid the bikes in the ditch,’ James whispered.

  ‘Yeah. Now shut up and crouch down here.’ Mark had already moved up behind the upper gear mechanism. Though a careful observer on the ground would have just been able to see the boys in their hiding place, their protection was quite good.

  They had scarcely reached their hidden position when the door of the windmill swung open. The boys could barely see what was happening below, but the funnel effect of the windmill carried every sound up to them quite clearly.

  ‘Hello, looks like we’ve had visitors.’ One of the two men who had pushed the door open was looking at the floor. ‘Look at these marks on the floor.’

  James was now wishing he hadn’t scuffed the floor so evidently.

  ‘Probably rats or something,’ said the other man.

  ‘Don't look like rats to me. Looks like something bigger.’

  ‘Yeah, well they’re not here now, anyway. Look around, there’s nowhere for them to be.’

  ‘Not down here, but what about up there?’ As he spoke, the chubby-faced, bald-headed man stared up the ladder.

  ‘What about up there? No one would be stupid enough to climb that - look how dangerous and rickety it is. That ladder is downright dangerous, and I, for one, wouldn’t go up it. You’d have to be mad. Look,’ he continued as he walked over to it, ‘it’s virtually rotten’. With that, he pulled the ladder strongly enough to cause the bottom fifteen feet to break away and collapse in a heap on the floor.