A Raucous Time (The Celtic Cousins' Adventures) (24 page)

Crombie rubbed his face. Rhyllann smirked.

‘Have your “men” been telling porkies?’ He asked.

‘Don’t be stupid. A simple misunderstanding.’ To the PC he said ‘Sorry I shouted at you son.’

The entrance door swung open to admit a burly ruddy faced man with stripes on his rolled uniform sleeves.

‘Now then Charlie. Where is everyone?’ Looking Crombie up and down he immediately assessed his rank in spite of Crombie's hobo clothes.

‘Afternoon Sir.’

The young policeman breathed a loud sigh. ‘Detective Inspector Crombie – this is Sergeant Holden. Jeff – didn’t you get the Super’s message?’

Jeff shook Crombie’s hand as he replied, looking sheepish for some reason. ‘No my ‘andsome. The jeep radio’s proper buggered.’

Crombie grasped Holden's arm. ‘Jeep – you’ve got a jeep?’

Rhyllann groaned out loud. Just his luck.

Bodmin Parkway station was eight miles out of town. In spite of some inspired driving, splashing through fords and passing abandoned vehicles, they saw the train steaming out as they entered the station car park.

‘Jesus!’ Telling Holden to wait, Crombie ran onto the platform, Rhyllann skittering behind him.

‘Hey you!’ he called to a guard ‘Stop that train – I need to board!’

The guard surveyed him insolently, hands in pockets. ‘Well now, perhaps you should leave home earlier. I can’t call the train back even for you, can I now, me ‘andsome?’ He winked at Rhyllann, not realising the storm he was about to reap.

Five minutes later they were all in the quaint Victorian cottage which served as the station master’s office.

‘I’m sorry Sir. We cannot halt the train. We are running an emergency schedule. That train will not stop until it reaches Plymouth.’ The station master was around Rhyllann's height, and almost as skinny as Wren. In his dull blue suit, he couldn't look less like the "Fat Controller" but he had a measured authoritive air about him.

Crombie sagged, admitting defeat. ‘Okay, thank you. And the next train is?’

‘Well you see Sir – all signals are down between here and Plymouth. We’ve just got the two old steam trains in operation. Lucky to have them really Sir. We’re operating under extreme safety measures, we can’t take any chances.’ Adding ‘Do you understand Sir? The line is single track in places.’

Both Rhyllann and Crombie understood immediately.

‘Can you hold the train at Plymouth?’ Crombie sounded hopeful.

The station master looked at him, something akin to pity on his face.

‘Sir – Bodmin Moor is impassable in places. Even if we could get a message through it’ll take hours to drive there. You might as well wait for the next train.’

‘You can’t contact the driver?’ Crombie pleaded.

Rhyllann sighed. This was pathetic. ‘Give it up Crombie. We’ll catch the next train.’

The station master brightened. ‘Your son’s right – go home – get a good night’s rest.’

Rhyllann ducked his head, waiting for the explosion.

‘My son? My son? Do you think I’d drag my son around the country in handcuffs? When’s the next train out of this bloody place?’

‘Eleven o’clock tomorrow Sir. We’ll make sure it waits. I’m sure we don’t want you to remain a moment longer than you have to.’

Rhyllann admired the little man’s composure when Crombie flashed the guy a look that would have stunned a lesser man.

Muttering under his breath Crombie splashed back to the land rover. Holden seemed to deflate as he approached.

‘Sir. Sorry Sir.’

Crombie climbed into the rear seat next to Rhyllann. ‘Where to now Sir?’

‘Quiet. I’m thinking. You know what your superior officer is Jeff?’

‘Superintendent Bates Sir?’

‘Superintendent Bates Jeff. He’s a prick!’

Holden smirked. ‘That’s of ‘im Sir.’

Rhyllann started to ask what would happen next, but decided to wait until told. They waited in silence for Crombie to stop sulking. Hissing like a steam train himself, Crombie began fumbling through his pockets. Pulling out a key, he unlocked the cuffs. ‘You know the drill. Wander five inches away …’

‘Yeah yeah yeah.’ Said Rhyllann rubbing at his wrists. Holden caught his eye in the rear view mirror and winked.

‘Been a naughty boy have you?’

Beside him Crombie straightened. ‘Don’t you know who this is Sergeant Holden? May I introduce you to the one and only Rhyllann Jones.’ He said with a flourish.

Sarky bastard thought Rhyllann.

Holden swung round. ‘Rhyllann Jones?’

‘
The
Rhyllann Jones.’ Crombie corrected.

Holden seemed used to sarcastic superiors. ‘Why didn’t you say? Gotta note for you!’ He passed an envelope over. Rhyllann took it feeling Crombie’s eyes on him.

‘Thanks. I’ll open it later.’

‘You’ll open it now.’ Crombie growled. So Rhyllann did aware of Crombie’s bulk as he leaned over to read the note with him.

“ Rhy.

I cannot right in Welsh. The police guard have promised you will get this. They have promised you will not board that train.

You were write not to trust xxxxxx Crombie. The LIAR.

You were right. I shouldn’t trust everybody.

W.”

Crombie frowned. ‘Thought your cousin was meant to be the smart one. Terrible spelling.’ He didn’t say anything about being called a liar.

Rhyllann studied the note again, this made no sense. Wren had managed to get the word right wrong in two places. Not wrong but …

‘He’s mixed up the word right twice.’ Crombie mused. And he’d called him "Rhy", knowing how much Rhyllann hated that.

Suddenly the air seemed too thick to breath. Police. Wren said police.

And someone in Crombie’s team had given Superintendent Bates false orders, and gone back to Bodmin Moor. Where the Brotherhood were holed up. Where the train would pass. Wren had written Guard. Beneath him, the jeep seemed to tilt and Rhyllann clutched at Crombie.

‘Detective Crombie – why would anyone tell Bates to go on without you?’ He stuttered. ‘Wh. Wh. Why would they do that?’

‘Holden! Tell us exactly what happened.’ To Rhyllann Crombie said. ‘Steady son, I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.’

Holden scratched his head, and spoke slowly, as if humouring them. ‘Well – I pulled up at the station – thinking strange – not a lot of activity – just about to walk inside – this woman rushes up to me, she had a blond kid with her, funny looking little – anyway ... “Sergeant,” she says – “will you give this to Rhyllann Jones? Only I promised his cousin.”’ He shrugged. ‘Course I said yes. That was that.’ He frowned. ‘No wait. The kid spoke. He asked what time the train left.’ Holden flushed. ‘Well – thing is the wife wanted to visit her sister in Plymouth. I dropped her off like, with minutes to spare. I told him like, sorry lad – I’ve just come from the station – you’ve missed the train.’

‘You prat Crombie – I warned you – I told you – “Oh no – not one of mine!”’ Rhyllann exploded, slapping at Crombie. Crombie pinned his arms down.

‘Stop it! Stop it now! You need to calm down. What does that note mean?’

‘It means they’ve got my cousin!!!’ Rhyllann lunged trying to dislodge Crombie’s grip. Crombie only shook him harder.

‘Stop this. Think! Wren insisted you get that note. Assume you’re right. He’s being made to go somewhere against his will. Put yourself in Wren’s shoes.’

Part of Rhyllann marvelled how Crombie remain so calm over the important things and get so sweaty with the small stuff. Another registered Holden’s rapt face. But then he concentrated on being Wren. Being smaller and weaker. Being picked on by everyone. He imagined his foot hurting, his stomach raw, laying in hospital… and then – and then … Rhyllann froze with horror as he remembered WPC Hewes making certain Rhyllann was still at Bodmin Police station with Crombie.

‘Hewes! Sergeant Holden said a woman – and she called from the hospital!’ This made no sense.

‘Why would she wanna drag your cousin out of hospital?’ Crombie’s brow wrinkled, above eyes that were granite. ‘She told Bates to go on without us … then called to wish you a good trip … knowing damn well you’d missed the train. What the hell’s she playing at?’

‘She’s got Wren. She’s got the box. Wren wouldn’t go with her. Wren always knew. He knew one of your lot was a traitor. Why would he go with her? She’s working with those madmen. And Stern. He hates him.’ Rhyllann heard his own voice getting louder and louder and shut his mouth firmly, eyes mutely begging Crombie for an explanation.

‘Wren wouldn’t go with her until she called you.’ He nudged Holden. ‘Think man. Anything unusual?’

‘Well … the kid was wearing a dressing gown – but.’ He shrugged thinking back. Suddenly he sat up straight, his face draining of colour.

‘There was something. Something very strange. The kid looked at the woman and said “That man’s wife is on the train.” But she just shrugged and hustled him away.’ He stared at Crombie then Rhyllann. In a tone of bewilderment he asked.

‘How did he know that?’ Holden spread his hands uncertainly. ‘How could he possibly know?’

Because Wren had a wild imagination and probably made up a whole background story for Holden just to amuse himself. Crombie tapped the note Rhyllann still clutched.

‘Read it again son. It’s all we’ve got. What’s he trying to tell you?’

Dipping his head, Rhyllann read it again, one line at a time. Trying to think like Wren.

I cannot right in Welsh
.
But he could. Wren meant he wasn’t allowed.

The Police guard.
Watched while he wrote?

Have promised you will get this
.
And I’m not moving until they do.

They have promised you will not board that train.
Why was that important?
Rhyllann couldn’t think. He’d come back to that. He read on.

You were write not to trust
xxxxxx
Crombie.
Wrong spelling, and they agreed Crombie could be trusted.
Making two wrongs. Or two negatives.

The LIAR.
Why the capitals? Wren didn’t think Crombie was a liar. Why emphasise that word?

You were right.
Right about what?

I shouldn’t trust everybody.
Wren trusted no-one.
Apart from him and Crombie.

Rhyllann realised he’d been writing in thin air while thinking and Crombie watched him like a hawk. Probably worried he was about to start fitting.

‘Code! He’s writing in code! – Don’t you see – You were there – When he showed us the box – you remember – no you wouldn’t… he spoke in Welsh.’

‘Whoa – slow down son. He’s sent you a message – a coded message?’ Rhyllann shook Crombie’s shoulders.

‘Yes! That’s exactly it! All this chat about trust. One time I asked him if he trusted anyone. Wren said only me. Then this morning – Wren asked if I trusted you. I said yes – that’s when he showed us that box thing!’

‘So he’s trying to get you to read between the lines?’ Crombie asked.

‘Or think outside the box!’ Rhyllann shouted. ‘Where’s that envelope?’ Grabbing it he peeled it open, smoothing over the creases to flatten it.

‘Crombie – look – where he’s crossed out your name.’

Wren had written with the envelope under the paper. On paper, he had written the word Crombie heavily, but scored through with a pen lightly. And the first “Crombie” the one he had crossed out – wasn’t “Crombie” at all. There embedded on the envelope was the original word. “Bomb.” Rhyllann tilted the envelope this way and that, trying to see if any other word had been similarly transferred. The word “LIAR” had been scrawled large, with a transposed “R”, a mistake a child might make, but apart from that nothing. Nothing until Rhyllann tried to read the word upside down, then from right to left. He began sucking at air.