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 21: Boris Plays Detective

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After Fatty had left, Mr Goon had tried to calm himself. Cursing and muttering under his breath, he opened a drawer in his office desk, and took out a small box of pills his doctor had given him. He went into the kitchen and took two of the little yellow pills with a glass of water. Having then taken a couple of deep breaths, he went into the hall and bellowed up the stairs: 'Get yourself down here, I've got a job for you.'

Boris was jolted from his sleep and went out onto the landing. 'Did you say something, Mr Goon?' he called.

'Yes, get down here now,' Goon yelled back. He shook his head and tutted, then stomped into his office and sat down behind his desk.

Boris quickly pulled on his clothes and hurried downstairs.

'Come in here,' Goon said. 'Now then, I've got a very important job for you.' He leaned towards the boy. 'How would you like to be a detective?'

Boris wasn't sure. He thought about it for a moment or two and then asked: 'Is it dangerous?'

'Dangerous?' Goon said and shook his head. 'No, no, it's not dangerous, it's not dangerous at all.' He sat back in his chair and put his fingers together. 'It's what we in the force call surveillance work, that's all. Do you know what that means?'

Boris shook his head.

'Well, you've been to the pictures haven't you?' Goon began and Boris nodded. 'And I expect you've seen spy films.'

Boris thought about all the films he had seen at the pictures but could not recall seeing any that had spies in them. 'I ain't seen a spy film, Mr Goon,' he said. 'I've seen cowboy films and one about Robin Hood and the last one was about someone who lived in a big submarine under the sea and sank ships and...'

Goon held up his hand. 'Right, well, we'll forget about spies, then.' He clenched and unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. The pills were beginning to work and he was feeling quite a bit calmer, which was fortunate for Boris. 'Surveillance work means following a suspect without being seen,' he said slowly and clearly.

'By who?' Boris asked.

Goon looked blankly at him. 'What?' he asked.

'Not being seen by who?' Boris said.

'Not being seen by the person you're following, you idiot,' Goon snapped and then laughed in a distinctly weird way that made Boris feel uneasy. 'Sorry if I snapped at you just then,' Goon said, 'only it's been a long day and I've not been able to catch up on my sleep. Unlike you, you little... er... ragamuffin.'

'What's that?' Boris asked. 'What's a magaruffin?'

'Anyway,' Goon continued. 'I'd like you to follow someone for me and report back to me everywhere they go and everything they do.'

Boris was not sure he wanted to. 'I don't know,' he said. 'What's in it for me?'

Goon thought he would dearly like to throttle this irritating boy, but instead he smiled and said. 'What would you like?'

Boris immediately pointed at the mantelpiece. 'That whistle over there, the gold one,' he said.

Goon looked at the mantelpiece. 'My gold whistle?' he asked. 'But that's very precious, and as you say, young feller me lad, it's made of solid gold.'

'Well, that's what it'll cost, Mr Goon, for me to do your spying,' Boris said, standing his ground.

'Very well, then,' Goon said. 'If you do a good job, you shall have my very precious solid gold police whistle.'

Boris did not trust Mr Goon at all. He knew that however good a job he did, Goon would find some reason for not handing over the whistle. In that, Boris was an excellent judge of character.

'I'll do the spying, Mr Goon,' Boris said, 'on one condition.'

'And what would that be?' Goon asked suspiciously.

'On the condition that I have the whistle now,' Boris said quickly and stepped back closer to the door in case he needed a quick getaway.

Goon began to turn red, but he took some deep breaths and tried to calm himself. He cracked a forced and rather lop-sided grin at Boris. 'And so you shall,' he said. He went over to the mantelpiece and took down the whistle. He breathed on it and rubbed it on his sleeve then held it out to Boris. 'Here you are,' Goon said. 'For you.'

Boris crossed the room and as he reached out to take the whistle, Goon grabbed his arm. 'You can have this brass, I mean gold, whistle, you little twister,' Goon spat, 'but if you don't come back with something worthwhile, I'm having it back. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Mr Goon,' Boris said, wriggling to get out of Goon's clutches. 'You're hurting my arm, Mr Goon,' he whined.

Goon let go and Boris stuffed the whistle into his pocket and rubbed his arm.

'Now then,' Goon said, 'this is the address of the person I want you to follow.' He handed Boris a piece of paper.

'Who lives there?' Boris asked.

'That fat boy you saw going into the cottage,' Goon said.

'Oh yeah, I know who you mean,' Boris said.

'There are some bushes opposite this house, hide in 'em,' Goon said, 'and when he leaves the house, you follow but keep out of sight.' He handed Boris a small notebook with a pencil attached. 'Write down anything suspicious.'

'What would be suspicious?' Boris asked.

'Everything that pest does is suspicious,' Goon snarled. 'So write down everywhere he goes and everything he does.' He looked at Boris. 'Now, do you think you can manage that?'

'Of course I can, Mr Goon,' Boris said in a rather cocky voice. 'I ain't stupid,' he added for good measure.

'Well now's your chance to prove it,' Goon said. 'Get your coat on and get going.'

'I'm hungry, Mr Goon,' Boris said. 'That lady said I should have a hot meal.'

'You've had a cheese sandwich and you can have a hot meal later, when you've earned it,' Goon said. 'Now, clear orf.'

Boris wrapped himself up in duffel coat, scarf and gloves and made his way to Fatty's house. When he arrived, he squeezed into the bushes opposite and waited. Luckily, there was an old tree stump to sit on and by parting the bushes, he had a clear view of Fatty's front gate. He felt in his pocket and pulled out the whistle, which he breathed on and rubbed on his sleeve, just as he had seen Goon do, earlier. It was cold sitting in the bushes, so Boris put up the hood of his coat. Occasionally, he stood up and stamped his feet, and just as he was thinking the cold was too much, he heard the sound of talking and saw four children, two boys and two girls standing by the gate to Fatty's house. He was still playing with the whistle and put it in his mouth while he watched the children through a parting in the bushes. Before long Fatty and Eunice joined the others and Boris thought it would be funny to give a short blow on the whistle, which he did. He enjoyed seeing the puzzled expressions on the children's faces as they looked around to see where the sound had come from, and then he saw them separate with four going in one direction, and Fatty, a tall girl and the dog going the other way.

Boris waited until they had gone some distance ahead before emerging from the bushes. Keeping well out of sight, he followed Fatty and Eunice, pausing every so often, to jot down notes in the little notebook Mr Goon had given him.

He laughed when he saw Fatty slip up on the icy path, and saw Eunice get help from a nearby boat. Then, after both Fatty and Eunice had disappeared on board, Boris walked along to the boat and noted down its name. He wandered up and down the path for some time waiting for them to reappear, and when they did not, he decided to hurry back to Mr Goon to report on what he had seen.

'Took parsley to horse.' Goon was reading Boris' notes with some difficulty because of the handwriting and the spelling. 'Took parsley to a horse?' he asked. 'Whatever for?'

'No,' Boris said shaking his head vigorously. 'He took a parcel to a house down by the river,' he explained. 'It's got a big red wall.'

'Oh, that'll be The Dene, I expect,' Goon muttered. 'Why's Fatso taking parcels there, I wonder?' He returned to Boris' notes. 'He sliped on the parff?' Mr Goon read. 'Good grief, what on Earth does that mean?'

'He slipped on the path, Mr Goon, and fell over,' Boris said a little embarrassed by his poor spelling.

'There's two Ps in slipped, you ignoramus, and only one F in path,' Goon said with a chuckle. 'So the fat boy hurt himself did he?'

'Yes, a man came off the ship and him and the girl carried the fat boy onto it,' Boris said. 'I waited ages, but I had to keep out of sight because there were two men on the ship and then two more arrived and that's when I came back.'

'Did he break his leg?' Goon asked hopefully

Boris shrugged.

'Well, I hope so, at any rate,' Goon muttered callously. 'You say here that the boat was called... the... what? the hiddicot? That's a odd name.'

'The Hideout, Mr Goon, it was called The Hideout,' Boris said. 'Which is a strange name for a ship, as they're usually called things like The Queen Mary or The Golden Hind.'

'The Hideout,' Goon muttered and drummed his fingers on the top of his desk. 'The Hideout, where have I heard that recently?'

He opened the drawer of his desk, took out the folder that contained his report about his and Boris' abduction, and quickly read through it. 'Yes, here it is,' he said and read out the relevant bit to a completely disinterested Boris. 'One of them said they ought to take the other two to the hideout as it had finally arrived.' Goon jumped to his feet. 'The Hideout, they must mean this boat and that fat pest is involved with them, why else would he get on board?' He poked Boris in the chest. 'He didn't hurt his ankle, you little dimwit, that was just a bit of play-acting for your sake. He must have seen you following him.' Goon shook his head slowly. 'And because you've proved yourself to be an incompetent little tick, I'll have my whistle back.' He held out his hand right under Boris' nose and Boris slowly took the precious whistle from his pocket and placed it on Goon's palm. Goon snapped his great big fist shut around it. 'Better luck next time,' he said with a nasty cackle, oblivious to the tears that were forming in Boris' eyes.

'Now then,' Goon said striding into the hall and putting on his overcoat, 'you're going to show me exactly where this boat is. I want to make sure the information you've given me is accurate before I call for reinforcements.' He looked down at Boris. 'And you can stop that snivelling or I'll box your ears.'

Meanwhile, in the dairy, Larry, Daisy, Pip and Bets were wondering what had happened to Fatty and Eunice.

'They've been gone more than an hour,' Larry said looking at his watch, 'and Fatty said it would only take twenty minutes.'

'Do you think something's happened to them?' asked Bets.

'I can't think what,' Larry said and finished his last mince pie. 'But we can't sit here all afternoon otherwise we'll be expected to order more food and drinks. Why don't we go down to the river and perhaps we'll meet them on the way.'

They paid their bill with the money Fatty had given them and left the dairy. It was starting to snow as they made their way in the direction of the river, and by the time they reached it, a blizzard was blowing.

'Crumbs, this isn't much fun,' Larry said. 'You can hardly see where you're going.'

'Let's shelter in the old boathouse,' Daisy said. 'It's just along here.'

It was a relief to get into the shelter of the boathouse.

'That's better,' said Bets shaking the snow off her beret. 'It was so difficult to see where we were going, I was getting worried that one of us might stumble into the river.'

'Yes, you're right, Bets,' Larry said peering out at the snow. 'It's coming down so thick, I can hardly see where the river is even though I know it's only a few yards away.'

'Fatty probably went home when it started snowing,' Pip said. 'He's got more sense than to be out in this.'

'I hope so,' Larry said, still watching the blizzard from the entrance to the boathouse. 'There's someone coming,' he called over his shoulder and the other three joined him.

'Is it Fatty?' Bets said hopefully.

'No, I don't think so,' said Larry. He then suddenly pushed the others back inside. 'It's Goon,' he said and he's got a boy with him.

'What shall we do if they come in here?' Daisy asked anxiously and looked around. 'Look,' she said pointing, 'if it looks as though he's coming in here, we can get out at the back.'

'I think he is,' Larry said. 'Quick lets get out, I don't want to be stuck in here with him.'

They all squeezed through the narrow back entrance to the boathouse, but found they could go no further, for the rear of the boathouse was surrounded by a wall of thick brambles which were impossible to get through.

They heard Goon and Boris enter the boathouse. 'Gah, what a waste of time,' they heard Goon say. He then began stamping the snow off his boots.

'It was there,' Boris said, 'honest, Mr Goon, and that fat boy and the girl went onto it.'

Larry clutched Pip by the shoulder when they heard this.

'Well, it's not there now, is it?' Goon snapped.

'It must have sailed away, then,' Boris said.

'I wish you'd sail away, you stupid little dope,' Goon said. 'I've a good mind to clip you round the ear for being such a liar.'

'I'm not a liar, Mr Goon,' Boris insisted. 'The ship was there and it was called The Hideout, and that fat boy and the girl and the dog went onto it. And if it's not there now, it must have sailed away.'

Larry, Pip and the two girls looked at each other. Bets was about to say something, but Pip put his finger to his lips.

'The snow's easing off a little now, so I'm going home,' Goon said. 'I'm freezing cold and I'm fed up with you, and if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your trap shut from now on. Another word out of you and it's straight into that orphanage.'

So saying, Goon and Boris left the boathouse, and the children could go back inside.

'Golly,' said Pip. 'So Fatty and Eunice are on a boat.'

'Yes,' said Larry. 'The Hideout, it was a boat after all and not a house and according to what we've just heard Goon say, it's gone off with them on board.'

Bets looked frightened. 'Oh, Larry, what are we going to do?' she said, her voice trembling.

'I'm going straight back home, Bets, and I'm telephoning police headquarters,' Larry said. 'It seems these people have got hold of Fatty and Eunice and heaven knows what they intend to do with them.'

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