The Mystery of the Stolen Secrets

©2017 Richard Humphreys

It's going to be a white Christmas and Fatty's Uncle Harold comes to stay. However, before long Fatty begins to notice that his uncle is acting suspiciously. Why did he go out secretly in the middle of the night? Did he steal some keys from a local house agents' office? Who is the man with a limp? The Find Outers get on the case and are soon embroiled in a mystery that involves spies, stolen secrets and a dangerous chase along the river in the dead of night...

Chapter 14: Mr Goon Lands in Trouble

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Still thinking about all the food stored in Nan Boggs' larder, Boris reached the entrance to Artisan Passage just as Fatty was disappearing round the back of Number Two. Boris immediately recognised him. 'It's that fat boy I've seen around the village,' he said to himself. 'What's he up to?'

Boris followed Fatty round to the back garden of the cottage and saw him climb through the kitchen window. He waited for a couple of minutes and then approached the window and peered through. Boris could hear Fatty moving around upstairs. 'What's he up to?' Boris repeated, and carefully climbed in through the open window. It was very dark, but he managed to find the hall and looked up the stairs. He could see the open loft hatch as the interior of the loft was lit up by Fatty's torch. He silently crept up the stairs and stood on the landing listening then slowly climbed the ladder. It made a slight knocking noise as it wobbled against the lip of the loft and suddenly the light was extinguished. Cautiously, Boris looked into the loft, but could see nothing in the dark, neither could he hear anything. Boris was puzzled. He quickly climbed down the ladder and hurried out through the kitchen window. Once outside, he paused. 'He must be the person I saw last night out in the street and then making that noise above my bedroom,' he thought. 'I'd better tell Mr Goon about this.'

He rushed off back to Goon's house and banged on the door. 'What you doing back so soon?' Goon snarled as he opened the door and saw Boris standing on the doorstep.

'You've got to come quickly, Mr Goon,' Boris said breathlessly. 'He's climbing around in the loft.'

'Did you collect your things?' Goon asked, ignoring what Boris had just said.

'Mr Goon,' Boris persisted, 'he's up in the loft now. You've got to come.'

Goon turned and walked into his sitting room with Boris following. 'I saw him, Mr Goon,' Boris continued. 'He went up a ladder into the loft.'

'You've imagined it,' Goon said picking up the newspaper and taking a sip from a cup of tea. He had no intention of going out on a wild goose chase because of something this little cur had seen or heard.

'No I didn't imagine it, Mr Goon,' Boris said. 'It's that fat boy that lives around here somewhere. The one that's got a little black dog.'

Goon put down the newspaper and stared at Boris. 'Fat boy, you say?' he said, suddenly interested.

'Yes, Mr Goon,' Boris continued excitedly, 'and he's in the loft now pinching things.'

Goon gulped down his tea and strode into the hall where he put on his overcoat, helmet and boots. He turned to Boris.

'You come with me,' he said and felt in his pocket for his torch. Yes, it was there.

As they hurried through the snow, Boris told Mr Goon what he had seen and heard. 'I saw him outside in the middle of the night, he was looking up at the cottages and prowling around, suspicious like. He must have broken in, 'cause I then heard him moving around above my bedroom. And today I saw him climb through a window at the back and go up in the loft.'

Goon was relishing the opportunity of catching Fatty red-handed, engaged in some criminal activity.

'Ho yes,' he thought, 'I've been expecting this for some time now. Not content with undermining my authority and obstructing the law, he's now taken to crime. Well, when I get hold of him I'll learn him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry.'

They reached Artisan Passage and went straight round to the rear of Number Two. 'Hold on a minute,' Goon said stopping dead in his tracks. 'This is where I saw that tramp earlier.' He thought for a moment and then a smirk came over his face. 'Of course,' he said, realising that it must have been Fatty in disguise. 'Bangawonga Green Swamp Fever! I'll give him a dose of Peterswood Black and Blue Fever when I get my hands on him.'

Goon shone his torch through the window into the dark, dank kitchen. 'Now, keep your voice down,' he whispered to Boris. 'I want to catch this one bang to rights.'

He climbed through the window, followed by Boris. They crept into the hall and then as quietly as they could, climbed the stairs to the landing. Goon turned off his torch, no light could be seen in the loft.

'Perhaps he's gone,' Boris whispered.

'I'll take a look all the same,' Goon said switching on his torch again and climbing the ladder.

He poked his head through the loft hatch and shone the torch around.

'You said you heard him over your Nan's cottage did you?' Goon asked as he climbed up into the loft.

Boris scooted up the ladder to join him. 'Yes, last night, right over my head, he was. Nan said it was snow falling off the roof, but I knew it wasn't.'

'The loft space goes from this end cottage, right over your Nan's,' Goon said shining the torch to the far wall. 'What's he been doing up here, there's nothing to pinch? What's that toad up to?'

His torch then picked out the hole in the wall that Fatty had uncovered earlier. 'He must have gone through there into the next loft,' Goon said to himself. He turned to Boris. 'Now you keep quiet and follow me. And be careful where you tread or you'll go straight through the floor.'

With Goon leading, they made their way across the loft keeping to the wooden joists and reached the hole in the wall. 'Now then, let's see,' Goon said crouching down and shining his torch through into the next loft. Suddenly and without warning, something flew straight out of the hole into Mr Goon's face. He flapped around with the torch, shouted in surprise, fell backwards and crashed through the plaster floor, wedging himself tight under his arms between two joists. Boris had almost jumped out of his skin, but had just about managed to keep his balance.

'It was a pigeon, Mr Goon,' he said. 'It was a pigeon.'

'I know that now, you idiot, don't I?' Goon replied trying to pull himself up by his elbows and failing. 'Look, you're going to have to help pull me out,' he puffed. 'Grab hold of my hand and pull.'

Boris did as he was asked and pulled Mr Goon's hand as hard as he could, but Mr Goon remained firmly wedged.

'Let me hold the torch,' Boris said and without waiting for a response, took it from Goon's hand.

'Give that back to me this instant,' Goon shouted.

'Your feet are dangling through the ceiling of my Nan's bedroom,' Boris said shining the torch down through the hole that Goon had made. 'I can see her bed.'

'You're going to have to get help to pull me out of here,' Goon said kicking his legs about and bringing down large lumps of plaster onto Mrs Boggs' bed.

'Who shall I ask?' Boris said, rather enjoying the sight of Mr Goon stuck fast.

'I don't know,' Goon said desperately, 'anyone. Use your common sense. And give me back that torch.'

Boris handed it back.

'It's ever so dark Mr Goon,' Boris said looking towards the open loft hatch. 'You'll have to light the way for me.'

Goon shone the torch across the loft and Boris carefully and slowly made his way to the hatch. 'I'll be as quick as I can,' he said and climbed down the ladder.

'You make sure you are,' Goon shouted after him. 'I can't hang around like this all night.'

Boris climbed out through the kitchen window and stood for a moment in the garden wondering what to do. He knew no one in Peterswood except his Nan and Mr Goon. Then he remembered that his Nan had said that old Mrs Gammon, who lived in the end cottage, had a grandson living with her. He would try to get help from him.

He ran along to the end cottage and knocked on the door. Although there was a light burning in the front room and he could hear the sound of music, nobody answered. Thinking that Mrs Gammon, whom he knew was deaf, had not heard him, he knocked even louder. Eventually, Boris heard some movement inside and the door was unbolted and opened by an old lady wearing a shawl. She peered around the door suspiciously. 'What do you want?' she asked in a croaky voice.

'I'm Boris Boggs from number 4, is your grandson at home only there's been an accident?' Boris said.

The old lady cupped her hand round her ear and frowned. She had evidently not heard a word Boris had said.

'Your grandson,' Boris shouted. 'I need his help. Mr Goon the policeman has got stuck up in the loft.'

Suddenly a man appeared in the hall.

'Go back into the sitting room, Gran,' he said to the old lady. 'You'll catch your death.'

Old Mrs. Gammon shuffled back to her music and the man approached the open door and looked down at Boris. He was well built and spoke with a foreign accent. 'Now what were you saying about a policeman?' he asked.

'He's stuck up in the loft, hanging through the floor above my Nan's bedroom,' Boris said. 'I need help pulling him out.'

'And he was after someone, you say?' the man asked.

'Yes, I saw someone climb up into the loft and that's when I went and got Mr Goon,' Boris explained. 'And then he was startled by a pigeon and fell through the floor and he's hanging there and can't move. I don't know what my Nan'll say when she sees the mess.'

'Well then, we'd better rescue him,' the man said, pulling on an overcoat and picking up a large torch. 'My name's Anton, by the way.'

'My name's Boris. You're foreign, aren't you?' he said as they hurried along the road to the end of the terrace. 'It's round the back,' Boris said. 'We have to climb through the window.'

'Not foreign, I'm Welsh,' Anton said.

They went round the back and climbed through the window. Anton switched on his torch and they went upstairs and up the ladder into the loft.

'About time too,' Goon shouted as they climbed through the loft hatch. 'I'm going numb.'

'We'll soon have you out of there, Officer,' Anton said and reaching down took hold of Goon under his arms. 'You'll have to help a bit,' he said pulling hard. 'Can you get your feet up at all?'

Goon puffed and struggled and with Anton's help managed to raise a leg high enough to get it over a wooden beam. After that, with Anton and Boris both pulling, he was able to raise himself up onto a joist where he sat breathing heavily. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. In spite of the cold, he felt hot and dirty.

'The boy says you were following someone up here,' Anton said.

'Yes,' Goon said recovering, 'and he might still be here.' He pointed at the hole in the wall. 'He's through there, probably. When I've got me breath back I'll go in after him.' He looked at Anton. 'What that accent you've got there?' he asked.

'Irish,' Anton said.

'I thought you said Welsh,' Boris said.

Anton shone his torch straight into Boris' face. 'I think you misheard me, boy,' he said.

Goon frowned and shook his head. 'Anyway, best get going, I want this one by the short and curlies.'

'If you don't mind, I'd like to help if I can,' Anton said. 'I live with my Grandmother in the end cottage, so if someone's climbing around in the roof spaces, I'd like to know.'

'Yes, you can help if you want to,' Goon said. 'You'll be more use to me than him,' he added nodding towards Boris.

He got to his feet and shone his torch down the hole he had made in Mrs Boggs' bedroom ceiling. 'That'll take some explaining,' he said and turned to Anton. 'Come on then, I'll go first and you follow, the boy can stay here.'

'Oh, I think he should come with us, Constable,' Anton said. 'I wouldn't feel right leaving him here in the dark all by himself.'

'All right, then,' Goon said. 'But you do as you're told and keep quiet,' he said to Boris.

With Goon leading the way, followed by Boris and then Anton, they squeezed through the hole in the wall into the next loft, which seemed to be full of boxes and trunks.

'Be careful, it's a bit tricky what with all these here boxes,' Goon said shining his torch around.

'Well, there doesn't seem to be anyone here,' Anton said, 'he's probably gone.'

'I wonder what that toad was looking for?' Goon said still shining his torch around. 'There must be something here he's after, else why would he go to all the trouble of climbing up here?'

'Who do you mean?' Anton asked. 'What toad, I don't understand?'

Goon held up his hand and shushed. 'I think I can hear talking, listen.'

They all listened. 'I can't hear anything,' Anton said. 'Come on, let's go, he might be hiding in the end cottage.'

'I can hear talking, Mr Goon,' Boris said.

Goon made his way between the boxes to the end wall. 'It's coming from the other side of this wall,' he said. 'Listen.'

Anton and Boris joined him at the wall. They could now all hear the muffled sound of voices.

'There you are,' Goon said. 'I told you I could hear voices. It's that pest of a boy, it must be.' All of a sudden, he banged on the wall. 'I know you're in there, you toad. I'll be round to get you,' he shouted.

The talking stopped. Goon turned to Anton. 'So behind this wall must be the loft of, wait a minute, 2, 4, 6, number 8,' he said counting on his fingers. 'Which cottage did you say you lived in?'

Anton smiled. 'Number 8,' he said and took something from his coat pocket, which he held up to Goon's face, it was a revolver.

Goon's eyes nearly fell out of his head. 'Here, what's the meaning of this?' he said. 'You can't go pointing guns at officers of the law.'

'Shut up,' Anton snapped.

Boris tried to make a dash for it, but Anton caught hold of him by the hood of his duffle coat and gave him a shake. 'No funny business from either of you, is that clear?' Goon nodded. 'Right,' Anton continued and took Goon's torch. 'You two sit down there on that trunk and don't move.' Goon and Boris did as they were told. Anton then banged on the wall and shouted something in a foreign language. When he had finished he looked at Goon and Boris. 'I have asked my friend to come round and join the party,' he said with a laugh. He then shone his torch into Goon's face. 'Now what am I going to do with the pair of you?' he said slowly.

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