Читать книгу Hector Trogg's Perfect World - P. A. Booth - Страница 5

Kate, Hector and Bandit were escorted to a police van by two grim-faced police men. From the look of it the van was used for moving prisoners. It soon set off, and judging by the flashing blue lights, they had an escort of police cars ahead and behind them. Kate found a small window, and gazed with disbelief at the burning château, as the movement of the van brought various policemen and women into silhouette against the roaring flames that were tearing the château apart.

At one point she thought she could see Inspector Mason ranting at Inspector Smithson. Everything seemed to have made him angry; the burning of the château, the destruction of Mrs Warp, and lastly Bandit’s attempt to wee on him just before they left. Bandit had simply trotted up happily, lifted a leg and urinated. Inspector Mason had jumped back amazingly quickly, and then began shouting in French.

Kate was pleased that Bandit was with them, despite the trouble he had caused, and soon Hector was also cuddling their new dog. His insouciance was calming. Kate was feeling shaky. She found it hard to keep back the tears, while even Hector’s cast-iron belief that everything would turn out alright had several Sludge-sized dents in it.

Bandit, on the other hand, was feeling a mixture of contentment and excitement. He was content because he had two admiring young humans who were cuddling him as if he was the most important thing on earth. He was excited because he suspected the van might be taking them towards food, and possibly even a warm fire; although hopefully not as warm as the château.

The journey continued into the night, made seemingly longer by the absence of any information about where they were going or how long it would take. After an hour Hector had drifted off to sleep, his head laid on a snoring Bandit. Kate, on the other hand, found it difficult to sleep. She kept turning over in her mind just two ideas. The first was that it was difficult to tell friend from foe. She had assumed the pilot on their chartered plane was helping them, and yet he turned out to be an enemy. Likewise, her and Hector had believed Mrs Warp to be another assassin, and yet she had been there to protect them.

The second persistent thought that bothered Kate was that they had narrowly escaped death twice in the space of just two days. If this carried on then, at some point, they would not be lucky; things would not turn out just right. An enemy who could not be stopped and would not give up would eventually succeed. She felt waves of hopelessness wash over her, just as they had when their plane was almost shot down. She cuddled Bandit just a little bit harder, and was rewarded with a soft hiss as Bandit passed wind.

Suddenly, the van braked hard, lurched left and then right, and continued at a slower pace. Kate looked out of the thick glass of the window and saw soldiers and armoured vehicles. When the van came to a halt it was a soldier who opened the door and addressed her as mademoiselle.

Moments later another soldier introduced himself as the commanding officer, Colonel Bertrand. In polished English, he explained that they were now in his care. It was apparent that this new responsibility was troublesome and unwelcome for him, but this man prided himself as a gentleman, and manners dictated that he should be hospitable. He explained, as kindly as he could, that they would be guarded in the prison block, and that this was because it was as hard to break in as it was to break out.

Colonel Bertrand had earlier given orders that the children were to be separated from the dog they had picked up, but the father in him, faced with Kate’s tears, and Hector’s defiant stare, could not see it through. They were, after all, two frightened children, away from their parents and being pursued by a fearsome killer. Finally, it was the soldier in him that issued the discreet and slightly unofficial order that Sludge should be shot on sight. A gun-battle could be faked after the event if need be.

Kate and Hector’s cell had been hastily improved with some pictures, plush bedding and a jug of water. The door to their cell remained open, but it was still a night in the cells. Outside their cell were two soldiers with machine guns.

Their sleep was further delayed by the arrival of a small man wearing a raincoat and a short, oddly-styled beard. He insisted that they tell him about everything that happened to Mrs Warp. He was quite kind to begin with, but as he heard more Kate sensed that he was angry with them. It had already dawned on her that this man was probably one of the people who had built Mrs Warp. She started to describe the various injuries to Mrs Warp as accidents, but Hector interceded and unhelpfully provided all of the details about how they had chopped her hand off, shot her, filled her with water and then smashed her head in using the blunt side of an axe. The man left muttering to himself, although Kate noticed that the two soldiers were laughing.

Hector thought that the two soldiers were probably special forces, and Kate suspected he was right about this. They did not look quite as neat as the other soldiers, and unlike the French police, they made no effort to appear tough. It was as if they had no need to show off or pose; they knew what they were. The other surprise was that they both spoke good English. The taller one introduced himself as Andrè, while the smaller soldier was called Pierre.

‘Can I go to the toilet please?’ asked Hector.

‘Well, that all depends,’ said Pierre, ‘Are you going to blow it up, set fire to it, or use it properly?’

Hector laughed, ‘That wasn’t my fault. The château just caught fire.’

‘You need to understand,’ said Andrè, ‘that we are here to protect France from you. And by the way, châteaux in France do not just burn down.’

‘Unless,’ said Pierre, ‘you take the bomb you’ve hidden in your pants, place it in the microwave oven and turn the oven on.’

‘OK, then they will catch fire,’ said Andrè.

‘I think we should let him go to the bathroom Andrè,’ said Pierre, ‘He does not look like he has a bomb in his pants this time, and there is always a chance that the dog is not the only one in this dangerous group who uses people’s legs as toilets.’

‘I’ve not done a wee on anyone,’ declared Hector laughing.

‘Stay back,’ yelled Pierre as Hector approached, ‘I know how dangerous you are.’

It was obvious to Kate that Pierre and Andrè had been well briefed, and their natural confidence made her feel safer. As Kate settled down to sleep the noises from the camp drifted through the window, intermingled with the occasional sound of Andrè or Pierre speaking into their radio microphones.

There were snatches of conversation from outside their window; footsteps; the occasional distant sound of cars and lorries being driven; doors being opened and closed. It was the scrape, grumble and grind of a place that never truly sleeps. Kate found it an unwelcome intrusion into uneasy dreams.

‘Great’ was the first thing Kate heard when she woke in the morning. Hector was bouncing around the cell, while Pierre and Andrè looked on, tired but amused.

‘We can explore this French Army camp,’ said Hector, ‘I bet they’ll let me drive a tank if I turn the charm on. Bang, bang, bang, boom! I could fire the gun!’

‘Now I can see why we have to guard him,’ said Pierre.

A short time later Andrè and Pierre said goodbye, to be replaced by two more soldiers. They were escorted to a bathroom in another building with a shower. They were given clothes donated by families living in the camp.

Kate and Hector were returned to their cell for breakfast, which was brought to them by a man with a facial twitch. Hector suspected he was a prison guard, as he clearly had difficulty with the notion that he should be nice to anyone in a cell. The idea that they should have a dog caused him further anguish. He kept shouting two or three angry words in French, before reverting to a much softer and politer voice. It all made no difference, as neither Kate nor Hector understood a word. Bandit, on the other hand, may have understood more.

Kate and Hector were just tucking into a very welcome breakfast of breads and cold meats when there was a shout. The guard jumped back and began to yell in French. Bandit had tried to wee on the man’s leg. Hector was beginning to see a pattern. If Bandit did not like someone he approached wagging his tail, and then urinated on their legs. When the shouting started he would run a short distance and then deploy the giant brown eyes and slightly regretful face, before bouncing on to his next target, which was usually food.

Sure enough, Bandit sat at his feet, waiting for an accident with the breakfast tray. Hector, it seemed, was his current best bet. Bandit’s judgement was flawless, as just a minute later there was a shout as a man ran into the cell, causing Hector to tip the tray just as Bandit hoped he would.

‘You come, you come quickly. Vite, vite!’ shouted the man.

Kate and Hector did as they were told and ran to follow the man. They were taken across the camp to an office where Colonel Bertrand was talking to someone on the phone. Both Kate and Hector were quickly informed that this was someone very important from Paris who wanted to speak to them. The phone was put onto speakerphone, and a man with a near-perfect English accent addressed the room.

‘Your safety is very important to us. In France the rule of law is paramount. We do not tolerate assassins and killers, and we will make any dispute involving the dark forces of the criminal underworld our battle. It is for the love of our heritage, our traditions, and the love of France that leads us to this bold and brave position. We will not fail you, the innocent, no matter where you come from, and no matter who you face. Only in France..,’ the voice continued.

Kate could see another man in the room reflected through a mirror. He was looking at Colonel Bertrand and rolling his eyes, while Colonel Bertrand quietly shrugged his shoulders in a manner that suggested weary resignation. Kate began to see why, as the speech just went on and on.

‘How long?’ whispered Hector.

‘I don’t know,’ whispered Kate in reply.

‘How long?’ asked Hector again more loudly, causing Colonel Bertrand to silently indicate that he should remain quiet.

A short while later the experienced father in Colonel Bertrand had seen the danger; there was almost no chance of Hector remaining silent. Colonel Bertrand was looking frantically at the other adults in the room; their various military ranks seemed to dissolve as the collective problem built.

It was one of their special forces guards who lent forward to look at the phone, and pressed the mute button. The Colonel then had his own idea, and pointed Hector towards another part of the rambling room that contained a large tropical aquarium. Hector was immediately transfixed and moved towards the brightly coloured fish as if dragged by gravity. Kate was not so fortunate, as Colonel Bertrand made it clear that she was to stay by the telephone in case she was needed.

While Hector studied the fish in the tank, the Colonel would occasionally press the Mute button on the telephone and utter a few words of agreement, before pressing the button again so that the important person in Paris could not hear them. Hector returned to the Colonel holding a large black plastic screw, only to be waved away imperiously by the same man that had fetched them to the Colonel’s office just a few minutes earlier.

‘But it came off,’ said Hector, ‘and it’s very wet.’

The Colonel gave a stifled yell as he realised what Hector held in his hand. The pool of water spreading throughout the office was obviously coming from the aquarium. The Colonel silently grabbed the plug from Hector, dashed towards the aquarium and began trying to stem the flow of water. The plug would not fit back in, and soon everyone in the room was trying to either stop the water from leaving the aquarium, add more water to the aquarium, or catch the fish using the small net so they could be saved in a bucket.

Hector moved back to the desk to join Kate, as it seemed like the best place to watch the crisis unfold. One man was bitten by a small fish, while another seemed to have a spine embedded in his hands. The splash of water, the yells, and Colonel Bertrand’s frantic instructions as they all tried to save his prized fish collection, drowned out the never-ending speech emanating from the telephone.

Just when Colonel Bertrand thought the situation could not get any worse he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and watched, in what seemed like slow motion, to see Hector lean forwards and release the mute button on the telephone.

‘Could you stop a minute please?’ yelled Hector, ‘Colonel Bertrand is fighting a shark.’

‘No, no, no,’ said the very important man from Paris over the speakerphone. ‘I think you may be mistaken. The Colonel is a very brave man, but he does not fight sharks. You must be Hector, is that so?’

‘Yes, I am,’ spluttered Hector as he raced to explain. ‘But the Colonel is fighting a shark. It’s a small shark in his aquarium. You see the plug came off in my hand and all of the water began to spill out. So the Colonel and his men pressed this button on the phone so you wouldn’t be bothered as they tried to rescue the fish. But it’s getting so noisy in here that there’s really not much point in you just droning on and on because the Colonel and his men aren’t listening.’

There was a moment of stunned silence before Colonel Bertrand gathered his wits.

‘Gosh,’ said Colonel Bertrand, ‘what an amazing imagination you have Hector. It’s wonderful that you can be so creative after your frightening experiences of the last two days.’

Suddenly, there was a crash as the sides of the aquarium broke under the weight of a soldier leaning in while trying to catch the fish. A wave of water sloshed into the office. The Colonel dived forward, and urged his men to catch the fish floundering on the floor.

‘What was that?’ asked the voice on the phone.

‘It was the sound of the aquarium breaking,’ said Hector.

There was a yell and a crash.

‘That was a man treading on the fish and slipping,’ said Hector keen to keep up his commentary.

Then there was a blue flash and a terrific short explosion.

‘That big bang was something electrical getting ruined by all of the water in here,’ said Hector unhelpfully as the Colonel let out a muffled yell of frustration. ‘And that’s the Bertrand getting angry.’

The next silence was longer than the last. Eventually, the man from Paris spoke in a new icy tone.

‘It seems that Hector’s imagination is not quite as productive as you make out Colonel. You are supposed to be looking after these children, not tending your office ornaments.’

‘I’m bored,’ said Hector,’ I’d like to ride in a tank, and I’d like to go to a cake shop with my dog Bandit. Is there a zoo near here?’

‘What a good idea,’ said the man from Paris, evidently still annoyed. ‘Bertrand, take the boy, the girl and their dog to a patisserie in a tank, and let him drive where it’s safe. Then, take them to the zoo.’

‘But it may not be safe,’ objected Colonel Bertrand.

‘You are a soldier Bertrand, or are you an office cleaner? Make sure it’s safe,’ said the man from Paris ending the call.

The finality of the click as the phone line went dead seemed to stop everything in the office, with the possible exception of the dripping water. Colonel Bertrand looked around at the chaos, while everyone else in the room looked at the Colonel.

Some time later Kate and Hector were playing happily on the swings not far from Colonel Bertrand’s office. It seemed strange to Kate that soldiers would want swings, slides, see-saws and a small play fort in their barracks. Later she saw children and mothers, and guessed that the soldiers’ families stayed at the camp.

Yet, they were the only ones playing. Kate noticed several children gesturing towards the play area, but their mothers shook their heads and took their hands to guide them away. It was as if Kate and Hector were indecent; somehow infected with danger.

While Hector had already forgotten about the damage and chaos he had brought to Colonel Bertrand’s office, and was simply enjoying the swings, Kate found herself confused. On one hand it sounded like an exciting day ahead of them. On the other, Hector had once again broken things, moaned, and got exactly what he wanted. There was something very annoying about that.

In addition, the Colonel’s concerns about their safety seemed genuine. She suspected that the self important man from Paris had ignored the Colonel simply because he was angry with him.

On top of all of this they still had not seen Mum and Dad. Just thinking about the last time she saw them moved Kate close to tears. She was worried about Dad; maybe his injuries were worse than she and Hector had been told. Kate wanted to cry and hold Mum. Most of all, she wanted to be with them; to be safe. Of course, she knew rationally that they were safer with the French police and special forces, and yet Mum and Dad and home was all she really wanted.

Kate wished she and Hector had never inherited the money. She wished Irvine Deeds was not related to them. She wished she could give the money to the horrible people who were trying to kill them. She wished she was in school doing something trivial, such as thinking of a way to get Hector to agree to watch the film she wanted to see tonight, rather than something involving cars or planes.

An odd thought then struck Kate. She realised that she did not know how much money she and Hector had inherited. All she knew was that it was more than a million pounds. However, from Inspector Smithson’s comments it sounded like it was much more than just one million. Maybe if they publicly gave it all to charity they would be safe; maybe their mad, distant relatives would call off the assassins.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a yell from Hector and the sound of a large engine. The sun shone and the wind blew the clouds into dazzling swirling patterns, but all were eclipsed by the arrival of the tank. It had metal tracks, a turret and a gun. If it was possible to die of happiness then Hector was in mortal danger. Hector’s heaven on earth was definitely on track.

Just a minute or two later Kate discovered that the surprising thing about the tank was that it was very small and cramped inside, especially compared to how large it was on the outside. In addition, it seemed to have all manner of sharp corners, edges and protruding stalks from which small but painful injuries could be received.

Kate did not want to admit it, but she was quite excited by the idea of a ride in a tank. Her surprise and delight grew more when she was invited to be the first to drive it.

‘Great,’ shouted Hector,’ I can fire the gun. Bang, Pow, take that, Bang.’

‘Who can we shoot? Who can we shoot?’ Hector continued as he bounced up and down.

The soldier who had helped them into the tank explained in impressively clear English that they were going to the firing range first, and then they would go to the cake shop in an armoured car. After the cakes they could go to the zoo. However, the Colonel had ruled out any chance that Kate or Hector might be allowed to drive on the roads, and the firing range was to make up for that.

As they made their way out of the camp the rumble and grind of the engine and tracks made everything else recede into the background. Kate was surprised to find she was allowed to drive. Of course, she had been told that she would get to drive the tank, but the confidence the soldier showed in her, allowing her to drive along the narrow roads of the camp, was still something of a revelation. Nevertheless, the soldier’s hands were never far from the steering yoke.

‘What sort of tank is this?’ asked Hector.

‘LeClerc,’ replied the soldier.

‘You’re a cleric?’ Kate clarified.

‘LeClerc, yes,’ repeated the soldier, ‘Main battle tank.’

Hector did not know what a cleric was. Kate, on the other hand, was completely puzzled as to why the tank should need a vicar. The LeClerc main battle tank is just called LeClerc, and the French do not routinely people their tanks with priests. As it happened the soldier was not religious, although he might have ventured a prayer that they would get through the next hour without any major damage.

As they followed the track out of the camp up the gently sloping hill to moorland above, Kate had a chance to look around at the bewildering array of lights and dials and buttons and knobs. Hector had found the controls that allowed him to move and position the gun, and was already yelling bang, pooow and boom, interspersed with shouts of ‘enemy at 2 o’clock,’ and ‘take that’.

After about fifteen minutes they reached a plain, with their tank on a slight hill. In the distance Kate could see a number of tanks and burnt out lorries. The soldier explained that they were to be allowed to fire one shell each at any of the targets, but then began to drone on about what they had to do and the best way to hit the target.

Hector paid attention. He appreciated that in a computerised tank you had to know what you were doing to fire the gun, and he was determined to fire the tank’s gun. He asked several questions, clarifying the steps needed to load, aim and fire the gun.

Kate tried to feign interest in the long ramble about trajectories, tanks and shells and how these affect accuracy. Hector, on the other hand, made no attempt whatsoever to look interested as soon as he had worked out which controls did what. Accuracy was for those without talent. Clearly, if he fired a shot it was going to hit; that was the way of the world, or at least the way of Hector’s world. Hector was brilliant, in Hector’s opinion, and it was the only opinion that mattered.

‘Wow, a moving target,’ yelled Hector while looking through the gun sights and pointing. ‘This is going to be great.’

‘Are you serious?’ asked the soldier, ‘If there is something moving we cannot fire.’

‘Why not, he’s got his gun pointed at us,’ replied Hector.

The soldier let out a resigned sigh, and took a look through the gun sight.

‘Ohhh,’ was all he managed to say before a massive explosion rocked the tank and threw him to the floor.

‘Oops,’ said Hector. ‘I think this is for real’.

The soldier indicated to Kate that she needed to get their tank moving, but Kate was ahead of him, and already they were picking up speed. He began yelling something about a tiger into the radio.

‘Tiger?’ questioned Hector.

‘An old German Tiger tank,’ the soldier replied.

‘No,’ said Hector, looking into the gun sights, ‘there are three of them.’

‘You two have some terrible enemies,’ the soldier said, as another nearby explosion rocked their tank, and he began to shout into the radio again. Next, he armed the main gun and told Hector to move over so he could aim.

‘No,’ said Hector, ‘this is my go.’

Before the soldier could reply, another explosion rocked them, and the soldier turned to tell Kate to vary her course more.

‘You want me to zig zag?’ she shouted.

‘No, but not so straight, and do not keep an even speed,’ he said, just as Hector muttered ‘Got ya’.

‘No!’ the soldier instructed, but it was too late. Hector had fired.

‘You’ve wasted one of our shots,’ the soldier said angrily.

‘No, I haven’t. I got him,’ declared Hector.

Moments later the soldier had seen the wrecked tiger tank for himself, and loaded the other shell. Hector was already tracking one of the other tanks.

The next few minutes were fraught, as Kate took them behind hills, slowed and accelerated. Explosions echoed around them, some closer and some not so near.

‘They are not very good’ said the soldier, ‘but they can still get lucky.’

‘He’s tipped over, he’s tipped over,’ yelled Hector suddenly. It was true, one of the Tiger tanks had run up an embankment and toppled over. ‘They must be real idiots.’

As if to wake them from Hector’s confidence, another blast rocked the tank, and this one was much, much closer. The tank lurched to the left.

‘It’s going to the left’ yelled Kate, ‘I cannot go straight or right.’

‘They’ve damaged our tracks,’ said the soldier. ‘They’ve been lucky’.

Then, bit by bit, the tank slowed to a halt.

‘We are sitting geese,’ yelled the soldier, ‘get out!’

‘Sitting ducks,’ Kate corrected, as Hector briefly reflected on just how annoying his sister could be at times.

‘Too late, the Tiger tank is here,’ said Hector, looking through the sights.

There was a boom, and then silence.

‘Got it,’ said Hector, in the same matter of fact voice he used when completing a well-known level on a computer game. The soldier let out a long sigh. Then he started talking into the radio, as Kate and Hector heard the squeak and rumble of arriving French armour.

Kate and Hector exchanged looks. Hector grinned and Kate looked worried. They had survived again, against all the odds. Hector thought about school, and how much fun he was going to have telling his friends about all of this. Of course, some would not believe him, but there might be newspaper reports.

‘That doesn’t look like our tank,’ said Hector, just as the soldier took a look himself.

‘Leopard. Leopard tank. It is a Leopard,’ he stuttered, a look of shock on his face.

‘Any more shells?’ Hector asked quickly.

‘No no. We’re dead. Where did they get a German Leopard Tank?’ the soldier said to no one in particular.

‘They’ve been stealing old planes from collectors. Maybe they stole the tanks from collectors,’ said Hector, in a matter of fact tone. Hector believed the tank’s armour would protect them against anything.

Kate began pressing all of the buttons.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Hector.

‘Causing a distraction, or at least trying to,’ said Kate.

‘Too late, all too late,’ said the soldier, shaking his head.

As if to confirm the worst they heard the boom of the leopard tank firing its killing shot, and they all crouched a little lower.

After a moment or two the soldier looked up, and Hector looked through the sights.

‘The tank’s on fire. Something must have gone wrong,’ said Hector, just as he saw a familiar figure walking towards the burning tank. It was Pierre, and he was holding some equipment.

The soldier looked through the sights and muttered something about a Eyrx anti-armour missile. Then he slumped to the floor shaking and cried a little. Kate put her hand on his shoulder as he muttered things in French.

‘What’s an ear-wax missile?’ asked Hector.

‘Eryx not ear-wax, you idiot,’ Kate answered, ‘and show some sympathy.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Hector patting the soldier on his arm in a cheerful and utterly insensitive way, ‘this happens to us most days now, and we always survive. Actually, I quite like it.’

‘Hector,’ Kate exclaimed, but she could not decide what offended her most; the way he ignored someone else’s distress, or his wild and utterly unjustified optimism.

‘Well it’s simple, isn’t it,’ Hector explained, ‘I’ve decided there is a God and he wants me to get to that cake shop. Come on, I bet Pierre’s got a car. I hope it’s a sports car.’

Hector continued to mutter as he got out of the tank. ‘Maybe he’ll let me drive. After all, I didn’t get my go at driving the tank. It’s not my fault it’s ruined. Kate was driving, and she went very fast.’

As Hector walked from the tank he caught sight of Pierre. ‘Pierre, Pierre! Sorry the tank’s ruined.’

‘Get down!’ yelled Pierre, and Hector was roughly pushed to the ground by another soldier who had run up from behind.

‘We have to wait until the area is safe,’ said Pierre, as the sound of a helicopter grew louder.

Hector realised that his hopes of driving a fast sports car from the scene of a tank battle straight to a cake shop were not going to be realised.