Frozen in Time (26 page)

‘
Close the doors
,’ sang Polly, picking up Bessie and looking around with big, frightened eyes, ‘
they’re coming in the windows …
’

‘Will you stop that?’ hissed Rachel.

Polly stared at her and mouthed, ‘
Close the doors … they’re coming up the stairs …
’

Now there
was
movement in the side passage beyond the window. Rachel was sure of it. A shadow, shifting suddenly sideways as if it was scared of being seen.

‘Is the back door locked?’ asked Polly. Rachel nodded. ‘Are you sure?’ Rachel walked quickly into the kitchen where the beans were bubbling on the stove. The back door was shut and the bolts were across.

‘We’re just being silly,’ she whispered, as Polly joined her, pulling the beans off the heat with her free hand. Bessie whined again.

‘Yes, I expect we are,’ she said, staring at the back door. And then they saw it—the dented brass doorknob very, very slowly turning. They both drew sharp, scared breaths, but managed not to scream. Rachel grabbed Polly’s arm and hauled her back along the hallway and up around onto the stairs. They ran up, Bessie still whining in Polly’s arms, but Rachel didn’t go into any bedrooms; she moved further along the landing and to a door at the far end.

‘It goes up to Uncle Jerome’s study and lab,’ she whispered. ‘Come on!’

She pulled the door open and they ran up a steep set of wooden steps which turned at the top and brought them to the attic floor of Darkwood House. From gable to gable it was filled with Uncle J’s stuff—a desk, several chairs, a high bench for experiments, all kinds of gadgets and bottles and books and tools and three different computers. It was hard to make it all out because Rachel stopped Polly putting on the light. The very last of the day glowed dimly through the four slanting windows in the roof, but Rachel ran down the centre of the room to the little window set into the gable. She looked through it, down across the front driveway and into the top end of the overgrown garden. Just along from the gate a large black car was motionless at the roadside. She could see nobody in it. Her heart began to hammer in her chest.

‘There’s a bolt on the door—I don’t know if it will hold—but put it across,’ she whispered to Polly, who put Bessie down on a desk and ran quietly to do as she was asked. Bessie snuffled around by one of Uncle Jerome’s keyboards. She nudged the keys with her nose and the screen sprang to life, casting a pearly white light across the room. Polly caught her breath.
Honestly
, thought Rachel, irritated in the midst of her panic,
now really is not the time to start goshing over some perfectly boring computer
.

‘Rachel … I think you should see this,’ said Polly.

‘What?’ Rachel couldn’t drag her eyes away from the scene outside, waiting tensely to see another dark shadow flit past.

‘I think it’s … some kind of message.’

‘Yeah—that’s email. Remember?’

‘I know—you said—but … it’s for us.’

At last Rachel spun round and saw what Polly meant. The screen was Uncle Jerome’s permanent email connection. Several emails were stacked up on the lower part of it with the most recent one maximized at the top of the screen. He kept them very big, so he could glance at them in passing. The last one in always maximized automatically.

The email on display was entitled
GET OUT OF THE HOUSE NOW!

‘Keep right down and crawl to the back of the house,’ said Percy in a low voice, from somewhere above them on the stairs. ‘They might not know you’re here. You can get out the back door and go through the hedge at the far end, to the alleyway.’

At the door, the dark shadow silently bent over as if examining the lock. There was a sharp click.

‘Who
are
they?’ whispered back Ben as he and Freddy began to crawl along with their bellies flat against the carpet.

‘Black car men!’ hissed back Percy. ‘Our government or someone else’s government. Doesn’t matter which. Someone knows about Freddy and Polly— someone knows and they want them. They must have heard my message to your uncle. Now get out! I’ll do what I can to keep them off your trail.’ And suddenly Percy stepped down from the stairs and called out, ‘Who’s that? Who is that? I’ve called the police! I’ve called the police, I tell you!’

By now Ben and Freddy were in the little kitchen at the back. They got up and ran for the back door, unbolted it and hared out into the little lawned garden. As they reached the high privet hedge at the back, which was patchy and gappy, and began to push through it to the alleyway on the far side, they heard Percy shout. ‘Oi! You can’t just come in! Oi—get away!’ Ben’s thudding heart clenched; he felt he should go to help the old man, but he and Freddy had to get back to Darkwood House and get Rachel and Polly out and then … go somewhere. Where, he had no idea.

In the alley, which was paved with grey flagstones, they looked quickly around and then ran off to the left, hoping it would take them back in the direction of the river. Ben could not imagine being able to swim back across it now, with the clouds low and dark and flash after flash of lightning above them. He winced as his bare foot struck a sharp stone. It was awful to be so under-dressed when they were in danger.

The alley did reconnect with the front of Riverside Close and only a little way past the path which led to the bridge. With any luck the bad weather would have sent Roly and his posse home for tea by now, thought Ben, but he was wrong. As soon as the bridge came into view he could see the collection of boys still hanging around on it, watching the brewing storm.

‘Don’t worry about
them
!’ said Freddy, at his side. ‘They’re the very least of our troubles. Look!’ Ben glanced back down Riverside Close in time to see two well built men in dark jackets running towards them with great purpose. A few yards behind them a sleek black car glided along the road. The men looked from left to right and one spoke into a phone or a radio in his hand.

‘Don’t run,’ shouted the other. ‘You need to come with us.’

Freddy grabbed Ben’s arm and ran straight for the bridge. As soon as their feet struck the wooden boarding Roly and his posse looked round and then gaped at the sight of their foes pelting straight for them in nothing but damp PE shorts.

‘Hello, chaps!’ called Freddy in his most toffee-nosed voice. ‘I say—I rather hope you can help us out! We’re being chased by bad sorts. Any chance you can stop them for us?’

Roly was astonished. The Pincer twins looked at each other and then at the rest of the boys on the bridge. ‘You what?’ said Roly, and then his eyes shifted and he saw the men in pursuit.

As Freddy shot past the confused boy he called: ‘Hey, Roly! Is it true you’re actually a girl?’

That was enough. Freddy yanked Ben even harder by the arm and hissed, ‘
Faster now!
’ and all the boys bundled after them, led by Roly who was shouting all kinds of colourful words—not one of them ‘Bother’.

It was a desperate tactic. There was every chance they would be beaten to a pulp. But it
did
confuse their adult pursuers. Now they were chasing nine boys and in the fast fading light it was difficult to make out who was who. Ben couldn’t see how they were possibly going to get away, though. His blood was thundering through his veins at the effort and he could hear his own heartbeat right up in his head. Good luck came their way a moment later, when Roly, leading the pack, tripped over, causing a domino-style pile up of cursing youths. The lull in the chase gave the men behind a chance to shout, ‘Stay where you are! This is the police! Stay where you are!’ They sounded really
like
the police and the boys got up in a confused knot, wondering whether to run or freeze.

By now though, Freddy and Ben had got around the corner of the public toilets. Once there Freddy vaulted up onto the roof, with the help of a low wall around the path to the gents side. Ben followed him up, amazed that he could. They grabbed their bags and then Freddy ran to the edge of the single storey building and leaped off it, landing on the pavement on the far side of the park’s perimeter hedge. Ben quailed, wondering if his aching legs would just snap when he hit the ground. But they didn’t. His poor feet howled though. At the speed of light he flung on his shoes and wriggled into his dark blue PE T-shirt, as did Freddy, then they were off again, screened by the toilet block and the line of hedging that surrounded the park. Along the road they sped, but Freddy caught Ben’s arm again and slowed him down beside a small open-backed truck—a gardening vehicle used by the town’s groundsmen. The engine was running and the driver was returning to the cab, having just delivered something to the park keeper’s lodge, by the look of it. He was arguing intently with someone into his mobile phone. Freddy leaped into the back of the open truck and Ben whimpered slightly before following.

‘Well, you tell Bill,’ stropped the delivery man, flinging the driver’s door open, ‘that forty rolls is what was on my list and forty rolls is what I delivered! I can’t deliver what isn’t on the list! And you tell him I’m into overtime now, too!’

The door slammed and the man concluded his call with a grouchy goodbye, before pulling off the handbrake and grating the gears. The engine rumbled up a note and Ben shivered as they began to move. Across the park he could see a posse of boys scattering and two men walking purposefully towards the road, looking left and right. He ducked down onto the empty flat bed of the truck and anchored himself as best he could as it pulled away. Next to him Freddy was also flat down on his front. He was grinning.

‘We’ve lost them! We’ve done it!’ he called over the noisy rumble of the engine.

‘Yeah!’ called back Ben. ‘Now all we’ve got to do is ask the driver to drop us home. I’m sure he’ll be delighted!’

Rachel stood, open mouthed, before the computer screen. She clicked the mouse for the full message.

GET OUT OF THE HOUSE NOW!

You’re all in danger. We’re on our way to get you, but we can’t get through on the phone. The line has been tampered with. I just hope you disobey all my rules, go up to my lab and get this. Get yourselves out of the house as soon as you’ve read this message—down in the vault is the best place to go. Seal yourselves in. I’ll knock seven times in a row so you’ll know it’s me.

I’m so sorry I’ve left you so long. And so sorry I said no to mobile phones.

So much to tell you. Now DELETE this message.

Uncle Jerome

Rachel stared at the time and date of the email. It had been sent about half an hour ago. She glanced at Polly who was looking wide-eyed and fearful. ‘It’s not just in our heads, is it?’ she said. ‘They really are coming up the stairs. We’re trapped.’

Rachel ran back to the window and this time she
did
see the shadow. A black figure moved fast across the driveway, signalling to someone else behind. She heard a tinkle of glass and realized they must have broken the fragile coloured panes in the front door. They were in the house.

Polly was hugging Bessie to her. ‘What can we do now? They’re just going to find us, aren’t they? They’re going to come up the stairs and find us.’

‘No!’ Rachel took a deep breath and deleted her uncle’s email. ‘They’re
not
going to find us. We’re getting out.’

‘How?’

Rachel strode across to one of the slanted windows and pulled a chair up beneath it. She stood up and undid the catch, before giving it a shove. The window pivoted open, the top swinging in and the bottom swinging up and out.

‘We can’t go up on the roof!’ gasped Polly.

‘We can,’ said Rachel. ‘And then we can get down. Uncle J put a fire escape ladder in here years ago. It’s because the stuff he does could be a fire risk. Mum and Dad insisted on it. It’s half their house too.’

‘But what about Bessie?’

Rachel gnawed on her lip. ‘We have to leave her behind.’ Polly looked stricken. ‘I know! I know, it’s horrible, but they’re hardly going to hurt her, are they? And it’s not like they’re going to try to get her to talk … whoever they are. It would be too dangerous to try to take her with us. She might fall.’

Polly nodded and kissed Bessie’s head. ‘We’ll be back for you soon. I promise,’ she said, smoothing the brown silky ears. Bessie made a gruff noise and sat down and watched them as they climbed up out onto the roof. The stormy breeze made Rachel sway, but she quickly grabbed the metal curve of the emergency ladder frame below the window and eased down on to its narrow platform. There was a mechanism for releasing the long, lightweight ladder. She found it, undid the catch and wound the handle around once. With a whisper of nylon and aluminium it slithered down the roof and over the edge of the leaf-stuffed guttering. Rachel had not yet looked over the edge— she really didn’t want to think about how high up they were—but as Polly eased down across the steep grey tiles above her, looking absolutely terrified (and with good reason), Rachel knew she had to look over to see if the coast was clear.