S.T.I.N.K.B.O.M.B. (7 page)

‘Look at the website,’ Archie snapped. ‘My father’s heart was still beating after midnight.’

‘Please try and calm down, Archie. I understand you’re angry – you have been through an awful lot in the last twenty-four hours.’

‘Of course I’m angry,’ Archie retorted. ‘You’re treating me like I’m crazy.’

‘You’re not
crazy
, Archie.’ DC Flowers smiled condescendingly. ‘You’re just a little confused.’ Then, to show he was taking Archie’s concerns
seriously, he squinted studiously at the website. ‘I can’t help noticing that your father presently has no vital signs which, in my professional experience, would indicate that he has
sadly deceased.’ Flowers made a glum face but Archie could tell it was no more than an afterthought.

‘That’s because the website isn’t picking up a signal any more,’ Archie explained, exasperation raising his voice an octave. ‘He’s probably just taken off his
chest and wrist straps.’

‘That is one explanation,’ Flowers said dubiously. ‘However, owing to the lack of vital signs, the official line of enquiry will continue to focus on an altogether more
plausible set of circumstances – i.e. the nature of your father’s death.’

‘Just because there’s no heart-rate signal doesn’t mean there’s no heart rate,’ Archie argued desperately. ‘I mean, there’s no readout for your pulse on
the website either but that doesn’t mean you’re dead, does it?’ he asked, adding under his breath, ‘Except from the neck up.’

The police officer digested the idea with a confused frown.

‘Of course I’m not dead,’ Flowers said at last. ‘I am clearly alive and well and sitting right in front of you. Your father, however, is none of the above and I think it
would be better for all concerned if you started to accept his loss.’ Flowers jerked his head and glanced sideways as he spoke, motioning towards Archie’s grandmother, who was standing
by the doorway.

As he studied his gran’s face, scored with anxiety, it occurred to Archie that she was in as much pain as he was. She was facing the prospect of losing her son and he was suddenly
overwhelmed with sympathy for her. Realising that his attention was on her, she forced a bright smile on to her lips.

‘You believe me, Nan, don’t you?’ Archie implored.

His grandmother approached and brushed his hair from his forehead with her hand. ‘I think we have to trust the police to carry out their investigations,’ she said kindly.

‘But what about the evidence?’ Archie asked shrilly, jabbing the computer screen with his finger.

I’m sure this nice police officer will include your theory in his report,’ she said, glaring at DC Flowers, who nodded his concurrence. She continued, ‘I shall be requesting a
copy of the report to make sure he is true to his word. Meanwhile, if he has any more questions he can speak to you at home.’

‘Home?’ Archie repeated hopefully.

His grandmother nodded. ‘I’ve just been speaking to your doctor. He said you’ve had a miraculous escape but you’ve no broken bones or internal injuries – just some
nasty bruises. So he’s discharging you –
provided
you promise to take it easy for a week or so.’

Archie nodded obediently ‘OK, Nan.’

Realising he had been dismissed, DC Flowers closed his notebook and stood up, put his hat on and pulled its peak low over his eyes. When he reached the doorway he stopped and turned round.
‘I wish you a speedy recovery, Archie,’ he said. ‘And rest assured we will find the culprits responsible for this terrible accident.’

‘That shouldn’t be too hard,’ Archie sneered. ‘Even for you.’

‘Excuse me?’ queried Flowers. ‘Would you care to elaborate as to the meaning of your implied suggestion?’

Archie had gingerly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and was wiggling his toes on the cold floor. ‘Well, it was one of your cars that rammed us so I suppose all you have to do is
check the police log to see who was driving,’ he said, true anger setting in.

Flowers looked momentarily stunned, then his expression softened.

‘I’m sure I’m not speaking out of turn when I tell you that you have been misinformed,’ he recited. ‘The car responsible was not a constabulary vehicle.’

Archie’s grandmother stopped folding clothes and turned to look at the policeman. ‘But I was told a police car had been sent to question Archie’s dad.’

‘That’s right,’ said Flowers. ‘A patrol car was sent to apprehend Mr Richard Hunt on the afternoon in question. It arrived at his home address at four thirty-two p.m.,
but the officers received no response when they knocked at the door. Concluding no one was at home, they returned to Christchurch police station at five p.m. and filed their report to that
effect.’

Archie looked open-mouthed at his grandmother for a moment before turning to DC Flowers. ‘So the car that ran us off the road wasn’t a police car?’

The police officer shook his head. ‘No.’

‘But it had flashing lights and a siren,’ Archie protested.

‘We believe the occupants were posing as members of Her Majesty’s constabulary in the hope of tricking your father into pulling over. After reviewing footage from traffic cameras
along the route of the chase, we have ascertained the vehicle in question had a foreign number plate. We are working on the theory that this fact alerted your father to their subterfuge and a
high-speed chase then ensued thereafter.’

‘Why?’ Archie asked, clutching a fistful of his tangled hair. ‘
Why
did they want us to stop?’

‘We believe their motive was the unlawful apprehension and detention of a person or persons against his or her will.’

‘You mean . . .’ Archie gasped, then his voice failed him.

Flowers nodded grimly. ‘That’s right, Archie,’ he said. ‘They were planning to kidnap your father.’

‘Kidnap?’ exclaimed Barney before sinking his teeth into a Twix. ‘Why would they want to kidnap him?’

Archie sat back in his desk chair, swinging the seat from side to side and gazing out of his bedroom window. ‘All sorts of reasons,’ he sighed. ‘My dad’s pretty wealthy
so they might have been planning to demand a ransom, or it might have been a political protest by someone who has a problem with the Red Cross Dragonflies. There’s even a chance terrorists
targeted him because of his military record – who knows.’

Barney, who was sitting cross-legged on Archie’s bed, stared at his lap and shook his head. ‘Unreal,’ he muttered, still chewing. ‘Un-real.’

Archie picked up a model of a Tornado F3 from his desk and examined it. ‘I’m more interested in finding him alive than working out who’s responsible,’ he said.
‘Unless I can figure out how he survived, no one will believe that it’s possible.’

‘He probably found an air pocket inside the car,’ Barney suggested. ‘Or maybe in the Air Force he’d been trained to put his body into a state of hibernation or something
while he was underwater? Suspended animation – that’s what they call it. I saw this old spy film once called
Our Man Flint . . .
’

‘It’s pointless though, isn’t it?’ Archie sighed bitterly ‘The police have decided he’s dead and there’s nothing I can do to change their minds. Maybe
they’re right anyway.’

A heavy silence filled the room.

Archie spun his chair round to face his desk and began jabbing his keyboard with sullen disinterest. As a mark of respect Barney tried to chew his last bite of Twix without making any noise but
then he spoilt everything by crinkling the wrapper noisily when he pushed it into his pocket.

For a long while Archie punished his keyboard and Barney studied the room and neither said a word, then –

‘Hey,’ Archie exclaimed, pushing himself upright on the arms of his chair. ‘Come and look at this!’

Barney planted his feet on the floor and heaved himself up, sending a shower of biscuit crumbs on to the carpet.

‘Wassup?’ he asked, looking over Archie’s shoulder at his Facebook page.

Archie flicked the computer screen and pushed his chair back to allow Barney to read the new message for himself.

‘Do you think it’s for real?’ Barney asked, having read the message for a third time.

Archie held his hands out wide. ‘Who knows?’

‘I mean, it seems a bit too straightforward, doesn’t it?’ Barney mused. ‘I’d have thought the real MI6 would have disguised their message to avoid
suspicion.’

‘What, like “The eagle will nest with the mongoose before hunting a badger”?’ Archie suggested, trying not to smile as Barney nodded earnestly in response. ‘Maybe
it’s one of those double bluffs you mentioned the other day?’

Barney’s eyes narrowed. ‘You might be right.’

Archie jumped up from his chair. ‘Well, there’s only one way to find out – come on, we’ve only got an hour.’

‘Where are we going?’ Barney asked.

‘Try and keep up,’ Archie called from halfway down the stairs. ‘Sixteen Stour Gardens.’

It was a warm, muggy day and Archie could feel the perspiration gathering on his forehead as he pedalled his bike up the long, steady incline towards Kings Park, the housing
estate where Stour Gardens could be found. Barney was trailing about 200 yards back, puffing and protesting with equal vigour.

Approaching number sixteen, Archie dismounted at speed and hit the ground running, allowing his bike to topple into a hedgerow. His finger hovered over the doorbell for a second. He was probably
about to initiate an embarrassing ordeal that would haunt him for the rest of his schooldays. But if there was even a sliver of hope that this was for real – that Agent X-ray might help him
find his father – then it was a chance he had to take.

He rang the bell and waited.

Archie heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door and took a couple of steps back, as if those extra few inches might offer him some sort of protection from
the imminent verbal onslaught. He could see a figure through the pebbled glass panel in the door and he caught his breath as the latch clicked and the door swung open.

Standing in the doorway and wearing an expression of disdain was the girl Archie had met in the school playground. She was wearing a black T-shirt with the words Green Day across the chest,
skinny black jeans and Converse boots.

‘Hiya,’ said Archie.

‘You’re late.’

Archie glanced at his watch. ‘Only by a couple of minutes,’ he commented breezily.

The girl fixed him with a cold stare. ‘In undercover operations a couple of seconds can be the difference between life and death,’ she said darkly.

Archie swallowed and nodded. ‘Sorry.’

The girl lifted herself on to her tiptoes and craned her neck to scan the street over Archie’s head. ‘Well, at least you came alone,’ she said drily. ‘That shows you have
a very basic ability to follow simple instructions. Our success depends on your aptitude to keep things to yourself. Discretion is our watchword. Do you think anyone could have followed you
here?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Archie replied.

Suddenly there was an almighty screech of brakes and Barney skidded to a halt on the pavement outside the house.

‘There you are!’ he exclaimed wheezily ‘You could’ve waited for me – it’s not easy cycling up hills with my heavy bones.’ Then, noticing the girl in the
doorway, he added, ‘And you must be the mysterious Agent X-ray? Archie’s told me everything about you.’

The girl arched an eyebrow accusingly at Archie.

He adjusted his glasses and gave her a sheepish smile. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say I’ve told him
everything
.’

Agent X-ray ushered the boys into the house and closed the front door.

‘Listen, motormouth,’ she said to Barney. ‘The basic idea of undercover ops is that we don’t announce ourselves to the whole neighbourhood, OK?’

‘Understood,’ Barney answered with a salute. ‘Good idea to switch to codenames, by the way. I was just wondering if there’s any chance I could be something like Nightfox
instead of Motormouth?’

With an exasperated sigh the girl turned and marched down the narrow hallway. ‘You’d better follow me,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘We’ll let the boss decide what
to do with you.’