The Easter Gang & Sinister Mister Fimister

by Rachael Long

  Ryan whispered to Holly and then into his phone to Moggy, “Taser. Sinister just shot Grearson with a Taser!”

  Instead of crumpling to the ground, Grearson looked down at the Taser darts sticking out of his chest and laughed. “Do you really think I would seriously trust you and your sister, sorry, half sister? I half expected something like this. He tapped his chest, “Kevlar vest. Made to withstand a bullet.” He pulled the darts out and threw them to the ground. Then, still gripping the helmet in one arm, he slipped his free hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a small and compact Taser of his own.

  Grearson pointed his Taser at Fimister. “This is what you need: Taser Industries Dual Shot Mark 3. Laser guided. There, see that red dot on your chest, that’s the laser. Never misses, never fails. Let me demonstrate.” Grearson squeezed the trigger of the Taser, shooting its two darts into Fimister. In a heartbeat Fimister folded into a heap on the ground, completely stunned. Grearson tossed the expended Taser to the ground, gave the helmet a little pat and headed away from Fimister’s immobile body and up the field toward the gate where Moggy was waiting.

  Ryan and Holly lay still for a moment, their hearts racing then slowly they got to their feet. “I’ll take a look at Fimister,” said Holly. Ryan nodded then spoke into his phone; “watch out, Moggs. Grearson is on his way to you. Get yourself hidden.”

  Holly waved Ryan over to where she was standing next to Fimister’s unmoving body. “He’s out cold, unconscious. Sounds like he is breathing, though. Should we call the police?”

  Ryan shook his head. “Chances are they’d probably pass the call to Grearson.” Holly agreed and suggested they check on Moggy then decide what to do. She held the e-tab up in the direction that Grearson had gone. He was about halfway to the gateway. They began following on behind, making sure to keep a discreet distance.

  Meanwhile at the gate, Moggy was in a spot of trouble…

  “Alright then lad, what are you up to?”

  Startled and fearing the voice belonged to PC Grearson, Moggy jumped, spun round and almost tripped over his plaster-cast leg. Unable to run away, he pushed back against the fence and raised his mobile phone up in the air to use as a weapon.

  “If I were you I’d lower that arm. Assaulting a police officer is a serious offence.”

  Moggy stared at the policeman. The white covered cap and fluorescent yellow jacket indicated he was a traffic patrol cop and not PC Grearson.

  “Lost for words?” The traffic cop reached out and took Moggy’s phone then lowered his arm. “Been taking pics of people in their bedrooms have we?”

  Moggy, regaining his senses and glad it wasn’t PC Grearson, vigorously shook his head, “bedrooms?” he queried.

  The traffic cop nodded. “We’ve had complaints of someone taking pictures of the houses along here. Pictures of bedroom windows when people are getting undressed. Frankly, if they don’t want to be seen, they should close the curtains. That’s by the by though. Is it you, lad?”

  Moggy shook his head. “No, I’m waiting for some friends.”

  “I get you, spot of underage drinking, eh? Cider in the park, is it? Lets be having your name then. Looks like my partner and me will be giving you a ride home. Talk to your parents.”

  Back in the field, Ryan and Holly had dropped to the ground and were studying the

  e-tab screen; they had heard the traffic cop’s voice, as had Grearson.

  “He’s taken something out of his pocket,” Holly pointed at the image of Grearson on the screen. “I’m not sure what it is but he is definitely holding something.”

  “Another Taser?” suggested Ryan, looking at the screen. Holly nodded and continued watching Grearson as Ryan sent a text to Moggy; ‘G has xtra Taser!’

  There was no response.

  The traffic cop, still holding Moggy’s phone, looked at the text from Ryan then handed the phone to Moggy. “What’s that then? Code is it? Your friends? What they bringing, cans, bottles?”

  Moggy looked at the text. “I think it probably means we need to get out of the way...”

  In the field, Ryan got to his feet; the full zoom image on the e-tab showed Grearson raising his arm and getting ready to use the Taser. “Come on, Holly, we need to stop him. You distract him and I’ll…” Ryan thought for a moment. “I’ll erm, body slam him…” He sprinted off toward Grearson, not really quite sure just how he was going to stop the six foot tall rogue PC, other than by crashing into him. Holly followed on behind and, when Ryan was about 10 feet from Grearson, she called out at the top of her voice, “Moggy, run! He’s going to shoot!”

  Moggy, unable to run, dropped to the ground leaving the traffic cop standing, looking out across the dark field. Not able to make anything out except murky shadows, the traffic cop took out a torch and scanned the gloom just in time to pick out Ryan colliding with Grearson…

  Winded, Grearson was knocked sideways, tripped, stumbled and fell to the ground, dropping the Taser and the helmet. For a moment nothing happened, then the traffic cop’s torch beam picked out Grearson scrambling to his feet; Ryan on his knees scrabbling about, grabbing for and securing the helmet and Holly emerging from the darkness, holding the e-tab out in front of her, recording the scene.

  “Right you three, freeze!” The traffic cop pulled out an expandable baton and flicked it out to its full length. He glanced at Moggy; “get up, lad and keep this torch beam on those three.” The traffic cop began to climb over the fence and as he did so he spoke into his radio; “Pete, we’ve got a bit of a situation here. Better come and give me a hand. I think we may also need another car. Get control to send one out” He then turned to Moggy and said, “don’t try and run, my partner’s on his way. Just keep that torch shining on those three over there.”

  ~~~~~

  eight

  The Thursday after Easter ~ night time

  School field

  The scene in the school field soon descended into chaos; within minutes not one but two extra police cars arrived, making six police officers in all. Then the local community support officer turned up too. Holly, Ryan, tightly clutching the helmet, and Moggy watched on as an argument began. The two traffic cops wanted to get away; it wasn’t really their thing as there hadn’t been any sort of road accident and besides, they had only responded to the suspected-bedroom-window-picture-taker call, because they were in the area. Clearly; two traffic cops, four police officers and a community support officer were, probably, five or even six, too many… Then, a passing dog walker alerted the group of arguing police officers that there was a car in the school car park with its engine running and the driver fast asleep...

  The Traffic cops suddenly decided they needed to stay; if the engine of the car was still running and the driver apparently not in control, it became a traffic incident. They left to investigate. On their way across the school field, one of the traffic cops tripped over the unconscious body of Fimister. Not wanting to be held up any further, they radioed back to the community support officer to arrange for an ambulance and continued on to the car park.

  On reaching Edna’s car, the traffic cops were unable to wake her and had to smash the passenger-side window to get into the car as she had seemingly locked herself in… Needless-to-say, another ambulance was called to take the heavily snoring Edna to hospital. A tow truck was also arranged to take her car away. Pleased at a job well done, at least their job that is, the traffic cops returned to their patrol car and drove off…

  Back in the school field, PC Grearson was put in handcuffs then taken out of the handcuffs. This happened twice: none of the police officers quite believed his story - under cover museum agent on loan to the county police force to catch Fimister? Or was it, undercover police officer working as an undercover museum agent? No one knew quite what to believe. But either way, he would have to be taken to the main police station in town.

  In the middle of all this, one of the police officers approached Holly, Ryan and Moggy. “OK kids, nothing more to
see. You can either go home or I or one of my colleagues can take you home and talk to your parents about why they think it is acceptable to allow you to wander about a park in the dark.”

  Holly began to say something along the lines of, we know exactly what has been going on but Ryan kicked her foot and whispered, “Shut it…the helmet.”

  Holly smiled at the police officer, “yes, officer, we were just about to leave,” she said and followed Ryan, and Moggy toward the gate. Ten minutes later they were back at Moggy’s house.

  “Are you coming in?” Moggy paused as he opened the front door and turned to face Holly and Ryan.

  Holly shook her head, she really ought to get back home. Ryan passed the still wrapped helmet to Moggy, “I need to get home as well. Too much excitement…you better keep the helmet tonight and we’ll come round in the morning.”

  Holly patted the helmet Moggy was now cradling in his good arm: “look after it Moggs and no peeping! At least it is safe now. In the morning we can have an unwrapping ceremony and decide what to do. I expect the museum would quite like to get it back, unless they’ve forgotten all about it…”

  ~~~~~

  nine

  The Friday after Easter – morning

  Moggy’s back garden

  Moggy’s back garden was small with an odd mix of fir trees and laurel bushes at the bottom that acted as a natural fence, obscuring the lane that ran along the other side. A small gate set between two of the fir trees gave access, from the garden, to the lane.

  When Ryan and Holly arrived, Moggy was sat at a wooden table in the garden. The Saxon helmet was upright, unwrapped and polished, resting on a cloth on the table.

  “You didn’t wait!” said Holly, disappointed.

  “Looks good though,” said Ryan, nodding more to himself than anyone else.

  Moggy shrugged, “Blame my gran. I left the helmet wrapped up on the dining room table when I went to bed. When I got up she’d washed it and polished it and, get this, hand washed the cloth it was wrapped in! Does look pretty triff though, doesn’t it?”

  Ryan was still nodding, “mmm…really, really triff, Moggs.”

  Holly picked up the helmet; “shall I try it on?” Without waiting for a response from the two boys, she slowly lowered the ancient helmet onto her head. “It’s too big!” she exclaimed and took it off again.

  Moggy laughed, “well it was meant for a full grown Saxon warrior. Here, stuff the cloth up inside, it may help.”

  Holly scrunched up the cloth the helmet had been wrapped in and pushed it inside. For a moment she cradled the helmet in her hands, feeling the lustre of the metal.

  “It is gold, isn’t it?” She said and passed the helmet to Ryan; “here, you try, your head is quite big,” she laughed.

  Ryan turned the helmet in his hands, letting it glint in the morning sun then lowered it onto his head. He struck a pose: one hand on his hip, elbow pointing out, and his other hand pointing toward the neighbour’s garden.

  “Suits you, Ryan, makes you look more intelligent!” Moggy laughed out, and then added, “If it is gold, real, solid gold, it could be worth quite a lot, I guess.”

  “You guess quite right but alas, you won’t benefit from it.”

  Startled, Holly and Moggy spun round to face the rear of the garden. Ryan turned his head but found the helmet, being a bit too big, did not move. He turned it to line up the eye holes then quietly groaned.

  Standing in front of the haphazard line of fir and laurel at the bottom of the garden was Sinister Fimister. He looked rough, unkempt and menacing.

  “Fimister,” Ryan muttered from inside the helmet.

  Moggy shook his head in disbelief, “not triff, not triff at all. So…un-triff…”

  “We thought, actually we had hoped, you might be, erm dead…” Ryan’s voice sounded muffled from inside the helmet.

  Fimister laughed; “Mr Fimister, if you don’t mind. And, as you can see, I am very much alive. Now, you have something which belongs to me.”

  “Huh, Sinister Mister Fimister,” Holly snorted; “you know the helmet belongs in a museum.”

  Fimister tutted; “don’t go all Indiana Jones on me. After all, it doesn’t look like you are in any hurry to get to a museum.” He paused and gave a snake-ish smile; “forgive my bad manners, last night was a rather…trying and disappointing night and sadly, I am somewhat impatient.” He took out a Taser from his jacket pocket and pointed it at the three friends. “Who would like to go first? Any takers, volunteers?”

  “Did you and PC Grearson rob a Taser factory or what?” Moggy asked at the sight of yet another of the yellow electroshock weapons.

  Fimister smirked. “Not quite, but they are very handy things… Now, if you don’t mind…” He pointed at Ryan with the Taser. Ryan hesitated then moved toward Fimister and in one movement removed the helmet and held it out. With his free hand Fimister dropped a weighty duffle bag, that had been slung over his shoulder, at Ryan’s feet and motioned at it with the Taser. “If you wouldn’t mind, dear boy. Place the helmet in the bag. Oh, better take out the cloth and wrap it in it first.”

  Ryan pulled out the cloth Holly had stuffed into the helmet and did as Fimister asked.

  Holly stood staring, studying Fimister then said, “ didn’t the police arrest you?”

  Fimister feigned disappointment. “Alas, no. I was taken to hospital, unconscious. This morning I simply discharged myself, walked out.” He shrugged. “ I assume if the police wanted me they would have handcuffed me to the bed. Their loss... Now, the bag if you don’t mind.”

  Ryan passed the duffle bag, now containing the helmet, to Fimister. He glanced to Holly and Moggy; “he’s got the coins in there too.”

  Fimister waved the Taser again and slowly stepped back toward the tree line; “I’ll be generous and let you keep that stray coin you found… Oh, one last thing children, don’t try anything and certainly do not phone the authorities…this remarkable little weapon has a good range and can give quite a nasty shock, if you’ll excuse the pun.” He then turned and strode out through the small gate and disappeared into the lane.

  Ryan sank slowly to his knees and exhaled, a mixture of relief and disappointment. “Do you think we should do anything?”

  Holly shrugged and looked at Moggy. He held his hand up and whispered, “listen.”

  Ryan frowned, “Sounds like a motorcycle. So..?”

  Moggy shook his head, not a motorcycle. It sounded more like a quad bike to him; “as in Fimister’s quad bike! And I’d say, he’s going up the lane…to the main road.”

  Ryan got to his feet and stretched. “He’s gone then. Expect he’ll have a car hidden somewhere, you know, like they do in the movies.”

  Moggy shook his head again; “he won’t be able to get out to the main road. The Loaches’ at the end of the lane have hired a huge skip and had it plonked right at the end of the lane; completely blocks it. They only had delivered yesterday and already, according to my Gran, someone has started a petition to have it removed. She says it’s so big and wide, you can’t even squeeze past it if you’re walking.”

  Ryan shrugged, not quite sure what Moggy meant. “All Fimister has to do is turn round and come back down the lane, go out the bottom end and then up Church Road to get to the main road.”

  Moggy smiled; it sounded like Fimister was heading off quite fast; “the lane bends before the last three houses. It’s a blind corner. He won’t see the skip until he’s round the corner…and if he is going too fast…he’ll probably smash straight into it!”

  Holly clapped her hands together and let out a loud, “Yes!

  Come on,” she added, “if he does hit that skip, we may have a chance at getting the helmet and coins.”

  Leaving Moggy to follow on behind doing his space walk bunny hop, Holly and Ryan

  sprinted up the lane. On rounding the blind corner they stopped dead in their tracks at the sight in front of them.

  Sinister Fimister was laid flat out on
the ground, his quad bike was on its side, the front twisted and bent having collided, not with the Loaches’ skip but with the rear of a camper van. The driver of the camper van was leaning over Fimister, trying to rouse him. He looked up at Holly and Ryan. “My wife is phoning for an ambulance. I was reversing out of our garage…I didn’t see or hear him coming. He must have been going at a right old speed when he came round the corner. The first I knew, there was an almighty bang and the rear of the camper van shook. Must have hit it full on and knocked himself out cold.”

  Holly and Ryan nodded but said nothing. That’ll teach you to run over my best friend thought Ryan. He noticed Holly was glancing around; he tugged her sleeve and gave a little nudge. The duffle bag was lying on the ground behind the wrecked quad bike. Holly began to edge toward it just as Moggy arrived. He leaned against Ryan quite out of breath.

  “Hello, Neil.” Said the man crouched over Fimister. “I was just explaining to your two friends here that this chappie crashed into my camper van as I was reversing out… You don’t know who he might be, do you?”

  Moggy caught his breath and nodded, “Hello, Mr Thomas. He’s called Fimister but,” Moggy quickly added, “that’s all I know. I think he lives in the village, not sure where though.” Moggy noticed out of the corner of his eye that Holly had picked up the duffle bag and had positioned herself behind him and Ryan, the bag slung over her shoulder.