Read Borribles Go For Broke, The Online
Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti
Borribles Go For Broke, The (6 page)
‘That’s what I meant,’ said Bingo. ‘I always get them mixed up. My parents sent me … to ask about a horse.’
‘A horse,’ said the man suddenly, ‘what kind of horse?’
‘Well,’ explained Bingo, ‘there was this horse found, in King George’s Park, about six months ago, and my mum and dad, they are related to the person who owned that horse. Do you know what I mean?’
The lady nodded. ‘Of course we do, boys,’ she said, purring like an untrustworthy cat.
Bingo went on, ‘You see my mum’s mad about horses, and I was coming over this way, to visit my friends ’ere, and she said I was to ask you what had happened to the horse, that’s if you knew, like.’
‘And where do you live, sonny?’ asked the man, pushing kindness into his face as hard as he could.
‘Clapham Common, South Side,’ said Bingo. ‘We looked you up in the phone book.’
‘I see,’ said the man, ‘how very enterprising.’
The lady tittered like a toy piano and pulled open a drawer. ‘It’s not really our part of London,’ she said, and her hand appeared
holding an address book, ‘but I’ll phone up Central Records for you, they’ll be bound to know something.’
holding an address book, ‘but I’ll phone up Central Records for you, they’ll be bound to know something.’
Bingo nodded and shifted his feet. There was something about these two adults he didn’t like. Twilight stepped nearer the door, staring at the lady while she composed the telephone number. Her expression went vacant as she put the receiver to her ear and her eyes spun inside out to show only blank whites, though when someone spoke at the other end of the line her face lit up in a series of flashes so that she looked like a fruit machine.
‘Ah, hello, Central Records … of course you are. This is Battersea here, Battersea. I have three lovely little boys in my office who are very worried about a horse, yes. It was lost in King George’s Park about six months ago … Yes, certainly.’ Her eyelids fluttered and found Bingo. ‘They’ve gone to get the file,’ she said, ‘we’ll have to wait,’ and she pursed her lips in a gesture of affection, making her mouth hard and unlovely like a chicken’s arse.
‘I don’t reckon this,’ whispered Stonks, ‘there’s a cop shop just up the road from here, what if that old biddy has tipped ’em the wink?’
‘Hello,’ said the lady, smiling fiercely into the telephone as if the person at the other end might be improved by it. ‘Yes, name, Samson, found in King George’s Park, badly cut, now in good health and working for the park keepers on Eel Brook Common … Splendid, thank you so much. I’ll do my best, bye-bye.’
‘I hope you had nothing to do with that poor defenceless creature being wounded,’ said the man, still trying to look kind but unable to keep the vicious tone out of his voice. ‘I’d horsewhip any child I found hurting a horse.’
‘I love animals,’ said Bingo, ‘and so does my mum, she’ll be ever so pleased it’s all right. We’ll be able to go and visit the horse now, won’t we?’
‘Of course,’ the lady screeched, and then she giggled like a lunatic baby-strangler.
‘We’d better get going,’ said Stonks, ‘we’ll be late for our tea.’ The Peckham Borrible tugged at Bingo’s sleeve and nodded towards the door where Twilight hovered, ready for flight.
‘Oh, don’t go yet,’ cooed the lady. ‘I’ve got some sweeties here somewhere, and I’ve got more to tell you about the horse.’
‘Yes,’ snarled the man, ‘you wait a minute.’ He sprang to his feet and the stiff smile fell from his face like a shutter falling from a shop window. ‘I want your addresses,’ he said, and, suddenly agile, he took one long stride and folded the flesh of his damp right hand round Bingo’s neck and began to squeeze.
Twilight threw open the door and sunshine flooded in. Stonks hesitated, anguished. How could he leave Bingo, but what could he do?
The man squeezed harder at the muscles of Bingo’s neck and the Borrible’s feet left the floor.
‘Run, Stonks,’ he yelled in pain, ‘run as fast as you can.’
Still Stonks hesitated. The lady began to stand up, still smiling. Stonks charged towards the desk and pushed it at her.
‘Oooer,’ she said, falling back into her chair, ‘you little horror, I’ll spank you.’
At that moment a door at the rear of the office opened and a uniformed policeman burst into the room; there was a chequered band circling his hat and SBG in letters of silver on his shoulder.
‘Run,’ gasped Bingo. ‘Run.’ The air was scarcely passing through his throat and his limbs were no longer moving. His face was purple.
Stonks hesitated no more. There were three adults already in the office and perhaps more policemen at the back of the building. He shoved Twilight through the doorway and leapt with him onto the pavement. They made as if to turn to their right but the wailing of a police siren stopped them. Three hundred yards away and bearing down in their direction, its blue light whirring round and round like an evil and disembodied eye, was a blue Transit van, a van of the SBG.
‘Cripes,’ said Twilight, ‘time for a touch of the opposite directions.’ And he and Stonks turned and ran like they’d never run before, pumping their arms and legs as fast as their hearts could stand, away round the corner and into Westbridge Road.
‘We’ve got a couple of minutes before that van catches up with
us,’ panted Stonks. ‘We’ve got to get off the street and out of sight, otherwise we’ve had it for good and proper.’
us,’ panted Stonks. ‘We’ve got to get off the street and out of sight, otherwise we’ve had it for good and proper.’
Vulge saw them first and he didn’t like the way they were running, fast and panicky. He was sitting by the hole in the fence, on watch; the others were playing fivestones behind him and Spiff was winning. Vulge’s face showed worry. ‘Oh no,’ he said.
The Borribles dropped the stones and got to their feet just as Stonks and Twilight came through the fence. Chalotte was the first to speak and she was angry.
‘Where’s Bingo,’ she snapped, ‘what the hell’s happened?’
Stonks looked at the ground.
‘He’s been caught,’ said Twilight. ‘there was a big RSPCA man there, and a lady, and a Woollie. We only just got away … They must have had it set up with the SBG.’
‘We couldn’t do anything,’ said Stonks. ‘A van arrived and we had to run for it. We hid in the Somerset Estate.’
‘This is terrible,’ said Vulge. ‘Bingo caught … bloody RSPC-Bloody-A.’
‘Will they clip his ears?’ said Twilight in a small voice.
‘What else will they damn-well do?’ said Spiff, clenching his fists in anger. ‘That is they will if we don’t get to him quick enough.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Vulge. ‘Rescue him?’
‘We’ve got to do something,’ said Spiff. He looked as unhappy as anyone had ever seen him. Lines of anxiety pulled at his face.
Chalotte rounded on Sydney. ‘I told you the horse was a bad idea, now we’ve gone and lost another Borrible, one of the best too.’
‘All right,’ cried Sydney, ‘so it’s my fault, say what yer like, but arguing don’t help. We’ve got to save him if we can.’
‘Of course we have,’ said Spiff. ‘There’s no question of adventures or horses now. It’s Bingo, Bingo alone, and the sooner the better. Anyone who doesn’t want to help should say so.’ He looked straight at Chalotte.
‘I didn’t want any trouble,’ she said, ‘but this is different. Bingo is Bingo. I’m in.’
‘All right,’ said Spiff. ‘Now this is what I say, anyone who thinks they’ve got a better plan can say so afterwards … Did they tell you where the horse was?’
‘They said something about Eel Brook Common,’ said Stonks, ‘working for the park keepers.’
‘Right,’ continued Spiff. ‘I’ve got some good catapults indoors, some of those steel ones left over from the Rumble Hunt, one each. Stones we want, food we want, good running shoes. We’ll get into Sinjen’s School tonight and get a blazer each so we look like proper kids. If we get stopped on the road we’ll pretend we’re out on some holiday project. We’ll leave tonight, as soon as it’s dark. We’ll break into the RSPCA office on the way, see if we can find out anything about what’s happened to Bingo. Failing that we go on to Eel Brook Common, I know where it is, over Fulham way. You see I reckon they’ll take Bingo there as soon as they can, show him to the horse and see how the horse reacts. If that horse recognizes him the SBG will know they’ve caught someone involved in the Southfields murders, and they’ll soon make him talk and they’ll be on to us in no time. We’ve got to get there before the law does. A rescue is the last thing they’ll be expecting. Anyone got a better idea?’
‘No,’ said Vulge, ‘only get a telescope.’
‘A telescope,’ said Spiff, ‘all right. Get down the market the lot of yer and take what we need before it closes. I’ll go back to my house and look out the catapults and see what else I’ve got. Meet yer back there and we’ll rest and eat before we go. And for Pete’s sake don’t get caught, one rescue a day is enough.’
At ten thirty that night a window at the back of Sinjen’s School slid open and Spiff’s leg came out of it, followed, a second later, by his face. ‘It’s all right,’ he whispered, ‘no one about.’ He pulled his body across the window ledge, twisted and then dropped to the ground. The others came after, one by one, all of them clothed in stolen blazers and grey flannels, even the two girls. On their feet were trainers, excellent for running. In their pockets were torches, high-grade steel catapults and enough stones to see off an army of coppers. They weren’t the best equipped of expeditions
but for a trip to Fulham and back they were more than adequately provided for.
but for a trip to Fulham and back they were more than adequately provided for.
Spiff led his five companions into the blackness of the playground and then out into the yellow light of the streets. The Borribles spread out in single file, three yards between each, ready to disperse at the first sign of danger. It was getting late and traffic was heavy; people were driving home from cinemas and bingo halls, the pubs were turning their customers out on to the pavements and everywhere there were drunks stumbling home, lifting their feet high over imaginary kerbstones, tottering backwards down non-existent slopes. Police cars lurked in the dark side roads too, lying low in the gutters like feral cats waiting for carrion.
Resolute and vigilant the Borribles tramped and jogged along and when, after about a quarter of an hour, they reached the traffic lights at Westbridge Road, Spiff slid into the dark entrance of the RSPCA office and tried the door. It was firmly locked. He stepped back and looked at the plate glass window and then up at the two smaller windows on the first floor.
‘I won’t have any bother getting in here,’ he said. ‘You others get over to that bus stop and pretend you’re in the queue. If you see anything suspicious give a whistle.’
The bus stop was in fact only twenty yards from the office but by the time the Borribles had reached it Spiff had disappeared.
‘Look at that,’ said Vulge, ‘he’s inside already. He must be one of the best Borrible burglars ever.’
‘The stories say he’s got at least twenty names, you know,’ said Stonks. ‘I’ve even heard tell that he’s been a Borrible for a hundred years, but I find that hard to believe.’
‘There’s certainly more to Spiff than meets anyone’s eye,’ agreed Chalotte, ‘but nobody knows what it is. I wouldn’t trust him further than I could spit upwards. He’s got enough neck to look up his own ear’ole, he has.’
‘Steady,’ said Twilight, ‘here he comes now.’
Spiff joined them at the bus stop. ‘Not a lot in there,’ he said, ‘but it looks like an SBG set-up all right. I found a notepad on the desk with Sussworth’s address and telephone number written on
it. There was also tomorrow’s date, and it said Eel Brook Common, nine o’clock.’
it. There was also tomorrow’s date, and it said Eel Brook Common, nine o’clock.’
‘Well,’ said Sydney, ‘when Sam sees Bingo he’s bound to recognize him, and then he’s had it.’
‘And we’ll have had it too,’ said Spiff.
‘In other words,’ said Stonks, ‘even if we didn’t want to rescue Bingo, which we do, we’d have to try anyway, to save ourselves.’
‘Dead bleedin’ right,’ said Spiff, ‘either that or we’d all have to move a long way away from where we live now.’
‘It’s Hobson’s,’ said Twilight. ‘Hobson’s as usual.’
‘We’d better get going,’ said Spiff looking round. ‘It wouldn’t be a bad idea to be hidden somewhere near Eel Brook Common before the Woollies arrive tomorrow morning. That way if it looks like a trap we can stay hidden and keep quiet.’
And the Borribles moved on from the bus stop and began to trek up the long slope towards the crest of Battersea Bridge. Once over the bridge they would be in unfamiliar territory and danger would be all around them. They each knew this but they marched on with spirit and determination; they knew very well that they had to rescue Bingo—what they didn’t know was that the second great Borrible Adventure had begun.
The headquarters of the SBG were not located in a police station and they were not easy to find, which was exactly how Inspector Sussworth liked it. His aim was to pass through life unnoticed by the general public; that was where his strength lay. He wanted to work quietly and secretly. Only the men who took orders from the inspector knew where to find him and their orders were to tell no one.
With concealment as their main objective the SBG had taken over a house in the crumbling hinterland behind Fulham Broadway, an unobtrusive place in Micklethwaite Road, a road that led nowhere. From the outside it looked dilapidated, a ramshackle establishment with varnish peeling from the front door and cracked windows hidden under white paint so that no one could see in and no one could see out. But inside it was different; it was antiseptic, it was smart and it was systematic, Inspector Sussworth saw to that. He liked things to be polished and properly arranged.
Behind the front door, and adorned with thick sick-green linoleum, was a narrow hallway leading to a narrow staircase which climbed steeply to three landings. On each landing were two rooms; each room had a desk, a telephone and a couple of deep, plastic-covered armchairs. At the rear of the ground floor was an enormous stainless-steel kitchen and dining room combined where the men of the SBG cooked meals and made their tea. In the garden a large sports room had been constructed; it contained showers, ludo boards, ping-pong tables and chest expanders.
Inspector Sussworth insisted that the constables who formed his group were fit, keen and spotless.
Inspector Sussworth insisted that the constables who formed his group were fit, keen and spotless.
On the first floor the two rooms were occupied by the inspector and his assistant and helpmate, Sergeant Hanks. The inspector had a larger desk than anyone else, a wooden desk that had been varnished and polished so often that its surface shone like a black mirror. He had the softest armchair too, and a colour television. Behind the television, in the corner furthest from the door, was the entrance to the inspector’s private lavatory, his pride and joy which he washed and disinfected every day, allowing no other person to use it. The lavatory’s every wall was tiled in six-inch squares of white porcelain, so was the ceiling. On the floor was a green carpet of cord and the toilet seat itself was padded and plush-covered; ‘just like they are for the Royals,’ Sussworth always said, proud and smug. Under an ever-open window, and within arm’s reach of the velvet throne, stood a small bamboo table which always carried a pile of tough, water-resistant lavatory paper and several copies of the
Police Gazette
. This was Sussworth’s inner sanctum, this was where he retired to think.
Police Gazette
. This was Sussworth’s inner sanctum, this was where he retired to think.
In the sergeant’s room there was only a small desk but it did have three telephones as well as a radio receiver and transmitter. Hanks did not have a television of his own but he frequently watched programmes with the inspector. In fact, considering how totally different they were, it was amazing how well the two policemen got on. Some people said that Sussworth only kept Hanks in the group to remind himself and his men how gross and unpleasant the world really was. Others, more cruel perhaps, said that the sergeant only maintained his place in the SBG because he knew how to flatter Sussworth to the limit and how to do his bidding, even before it was bidden. Whatever the truth of the matter, they relied on each other a hundred per cent.
On the day of Bingo’s capture, and not many hours after that event, Inspector Sussworth sat at his desk in the house in Micklethwaite Road and doodled on a piece of paper, his face lowering in deep concentration while in front of him the vapour rose from a cup of tea: no milk, no sugar, and very strong. The inspector dressed well and his uniform was as splendid as any grenadier’s; it
was neatly pressed and its buttons shone like stars against the deep blue serge of the material. Sergeant Hanks, always servile, always unctuous, relaxed in an armchair and waited for his leader to speak.
was neatly pressed and its buttons shone like stars against the deep blue serge of the material. Sergeant Hanks, always servile, always unctuous, relaxed in an armchair and waited for his leader to speak.
‘So,’ said the inspector when he had gathered his thoughts, ‘we’ve caught a suspicious Borrible at last, but that’s only one, Hanks. This is only the beginning; we’ve got to do better, much better.’
‘We have indeed, sir,’ said Hanks, bobbing his head up and down several times, ‘and we will, I feel sure.’
The inspector picked up his cup of tea between two delicate fingers and sipped. The beverage was exactly how he liked it and he smiled. He had a strange thin face, made stranger by this smile, and in the face every feature took the wrong direction. His chin, which was sharp, did not go the way it should have gone. His nose bent itself in the middle and tried to aim the end sideways, while his ears threw themselves forward with energy instead of lying back with decorum. Sussworth’s face was like a three-fingered signpost, turned by mischievous hands so that everything pointed down the wrong road.
His forehead was narrow, his eyebrows dark and well marked. His hair was lank and oiled and fell over his forehead in a solid lump. His eyes skulked deep in their sockets and, when they could be seen, were the colour of used washing-up water left overnight and found greasy-grey in the morning. Under his nose lived a small black moustache about the size of a jubilee postage stamp; it led a life of its own, that moustache, and twitched whenever it thought it would. Sussworth was only five feet six inches tall, with a slender body. Whether he sat or stood his feet always moved with nervous energy. He kicked the ground when he was annoyed, he did a little three-step dance when he was pleased. He was stubborn and he was proud; his blood bubbled with a lunatic zeal, he was an evangelist for rectitude and decorum, an enforcer of law and order.
By comparison Sergeant Hanks was an enormous man with broad shoulders and hands so big that when he clasped them it looked like he was carrying six pounds of raw pork sausages, unwrapped.
His arms were as muscular as other people’s thighs and covered all over with curly ginger hair, stiff as wire. He had a belly that surged frontwards; it began just below his neck, it ended just above his knees, but there was nothing flabby about it. It was a powerful belly, and sinew rippled across it all the time and made his uniform move as if he had a large python living underneath his jumper.
His arms were as muscular as other people’s thighs and covered all over with curly ginger hair, stiff as wire. He had a belly that surged frontwards; it began just below his neck, it ended just above his knees, but there was nothing flabby about it. It was a powerful belly, and sinew rippled across it all the time and made his uniform move as if he had a large python living underneath his jumper.
His jacket had egg stains down it from collar to hem and from shoulder to shoulder, like the medals on a general’s tunic. There was only one thing that Hanks liked more than regular meals and that was the meals in between. His favourite food was four eggs and ten rashers of bacon with as much fried bread as could be stacked on a plate: what he called a ‘double-greasy’. His fleshy round face lit up when he smelt such a feast and heard the hot fat sizzling in the frying pan. At such times his pastel blue eyes would shine and glint with greed, but his silver buttons were always dull.
The inspector sipped his tea prudently, like a tea taster. ‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said, ‘we’ll take that little malefactor to Eel Brook Common and see what the horse makes of him.’
‘We will,’ said Hanks, ‘indeed we will.’
‘And those two little blighters who got away, they’ll have run off and told their mates what happened, won’t they?’
Sergeant Hanks rolled his head.
‘And we know what Borribles do when one of their mates gets caught, don’t we?’
‘Why,’ said Hanks, ‘they tries to get their friend uncaught before we clips his ears.’
‘Right, Hanks, right. So you can bet your next double-greasy that tomorrow we’ll be seeing quite a few Borribles at Eel Brook Common. They’ll be there … but so will we.’ Sussworth jumped to his feet, tipped the remainder of his tea into his mouth and then perched himself neatly on the edge of his desk like a paperweight. ‘Get the men down here,’ he ordered. ‘I want to give them their instructions.’
Sergeant Hanks pressed a button and all round the house bells rang. A moment later there was the sound of heavy boots in the rooms above and in the kitchen below. The noise moved on to the
stairs and the door to Sussworth’s office opened. Twelve men in blue came to stand in front of their commander, not at attention but relaxed and confident.
stairs and the door to Sussworth’s office opened. Twelve men in blue came to stand in front of their commander, not at attention but relaxed and confident.
‘I’m glad to see you section leaders ready,’ began Sussworth. ‘Now we were lucky today, we caught one. Tomorrow, when we take him to see the horse, I expect a rescue attempt to be mounted. We must be prepared.’ He leant forward and stamped twice on the floor. ‘During the night I want men from vans two, five and eleven to take over the area surrounding the common. I want some of you to get into the houses, some others up on the roofs. Men from vans three, six and nine will guard all escape roads. You let anyone who looks like a Borrible in, but you don’t let anyone who looks even remotely like a Borrible out. At exactly eight thirty I will arrive in van number one with the prisoner. This is an ambush that must work. You will be in position by midnight tonight. I don’t want anyone even to suspect that you are there … I have made arrangements for the vans to be hidden in lock-up garages until they are needed. Are there any questions?’
There were none.
‘Right, men,’ continued Sussworth, ‘it only remains for me to commend the work you’ve done in the past and hope for even better in the future. Remember this is our finest hour. This little blighter we’ve nobbled knows what we want to know and I’ll sweat it out of him just as soon as we’ve captured his mates.’ The inspector slipped from his desk and stretched out both his arms. ‘I have only one ambition and I know you men share it with me … to rid this city of Borribles. They are a threat to any normal way of life. They say they don’t want much and I say that’s too much. They say they want to live their way and I say they ought to live the way everyone else does.’
Sussworth’s eyes swivelled in his face and he dropped his arms to his side. He stood straight and stiff and he gazed up at his men. ‘Go and prepare yourselves,’ he said. ‘That is all.’
The policemen saluted their officer, nodded at Sergeant Hanks and left the room, shuffling down the stairs one after the other. When they had gone Sussworth fell back into his chair, exhausted
by the effort of his speech. He groped for his cup and held it out, at arm’s length, to the sergeant. He needed a refill.
by the effort of his speech. He groped for his cup and held it out, at arm’s length, to the sergeant. He needed a refill.
‘Oh, sir,’ said Hanks, taking the cup like it might have been a holy chalice, ‘you certainly know how to inspire men. You stir their blood, sir, make their hearts beat the faster. I see it as clear as day.’
The inspector stared dreamily at the surface of his desk. ‘It is only because I always tell them the truth,’ he said, ‘and the truth is what men want to hear.’
It was a languid dawn that rose over Eel Brook Common and the Borribles were early awake in it. The night had been warm and sleep difficult. The travellers had arrived in the middle of darkness and hidden themselves in the tiny front garden of a house that faced the common, screened from view by a low wall of brick and a scraggy privet hedge. All night the windows in the street had hung open and gross adults in their beds had snored and blasted their way through sleep, grunting and shouting in their dreams.
‘Blimey,’ said Twilight, ‘if only we could harness all that energy and gas we could obliterate the SBG in five minutes.’
Slowly the sky over London paled and became purple. Traffic started to growl in the main roads like an old monster, the stars glittered one last time and front doors slammed as bus drivers left home for work. Bedroom lights came on brightly and then faded as the day grew stronger; the grunting and snoring softened to nothing. The Borribles rubbed their eyes, sat up and peered through the hedge across the empty yellowness of the flat common.
‘Bloody parks,’ said Spiff, ‘draughty old dumps. Just look at it, nothing to steal for miles. I don’t know how anybody can like them.’
It was true that there was little to be seen except, on the far side of the field, a few small wooden huts behind a hedge and an iron railing. It was the sort of place in which park keepers store their tools and eat their sandwiches.
‘I bet that’s where they keep the horse,’ said Sydney.
‘Finding the horse,’ said Vulge, ‘is easy; it’s getting it away from keepers and keeping it away from keepers that’s tricky.’
‘It’s difficult to disguise a horse,’ said Twilight. ‘I mean you can’t stick it on wheels and shove it down the street like it was a toy, can you? It might drop a load just as a copper came round the corner.’
‘Quiet,’ whispered Spiff. ‘SBG.’
The others looked where he pointed and they saw a blue Transit van emerge from Wandsworth Bridge Road and come to a halt on the southern side of the common.
‘It’s full of John Law,’ said Stonks.
Spiff shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a small collapsible telescope.
‘Well I never,’ said Vulge, ‘you got one.’
‘Found it in Sinjen’s School,’ said Spiff. ‘Like you said, very handy.’ He raised the telescope and poked it between the leaves of the hedge. He put his eye to it and studied the van. Two policemen emerged.
Spiff grunted. ‘Two out, but I reckon there’s about eight more inside. Can’t see too clearly, they’ve got mesh across the windows.’
‘Look at their shoulders,’ said Chalotte. ‘What rank are they?’
‘Strike a light,’ said Spiff, ‘that’s an inspector, that little squirt. It must be Sussworth ’imself, ugly sod, have a butcher’s.’ Spiff passed the telescope over to Vulge who stared through it while his companions stared at him.
‘Cripes,’ he said after a while, ‘he’s horrid all right, frighten Frankenstein rigid he could, and the sergeant with him ain’t a work of art either, strong though, crack yer philbert open as soon as look at yer.’ Vulge returned the telescope to Spiff.
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