Jason and Matt are laughing
and laughing. They cannot believe their luck. Their mate, Steve, tipped
them off that some idiot had
left his BMW unlocked, with
the keys in the ignition. By nine
o'clock that night, the car should be packed onto a container ship,
and
ready to be transported
to the middle east, and the two men will have
five-hundred pounds each in their pockets. 'Not bad for an afternoon's
work!' Jason says to his friend, as they drive along a narrow country
road just outside the town.
'What's that noise?' Matt says suddenly.
'What noise? I didn't hear anything.' Jason replies.
'Thought I heard something. Must be my imagination, but it sounded like
a
kid's voice.'
'You've been drinking too much, mate.' says Jason, laughing. Then, they
both hear it. It sounds like talking.
'It's coming from the boot. Damn it! This is not good,' says Matt,
looking worrried. 'We'd better take a look at what's in there.'
The two men continue driving for a short distance before entering a
quiet lane
and finding somewhere to park the car. There are no other
cars or people
within
sight. 'This looks like a
safe place to take a look. Put your
hat on, and your sunglasses, just in case it is a kid in there.' Matt
advises his accomplice.
'What are we going to do if it is a kid?'
'We'll cross
that bridge when we come to it,
Jason.'
The two men get out of the car and nervously stand by the boot. 'Open
it,' says Jason forcibly.
'You open it,'
'Okay, I will.' Jason puts the key in the lock. A turn of the key and a
press of the button, and
the boot springs
open.
Mrs Jones is watering her plants in the front garden of her country cottage. Her blindness is no hindrance. After living in the same house for over sixty years, she knows exactly where everything is. She only needs help three times a week, with shopping and reading mail. It is good to be independent, even if her family pleads with her to move into a nursing home. Although she often feels a little lonely, she would never leave this house. Better to die in a place you love, than rot in a sterile home for old people. She never considers herself old anyway. That is one advantage of not being able to see - mirrors can never age her. Mrs Jones is listening to the sound the water made running off the leaves of the large hosta outside her front door, when she hears a car coming down the narrow lane. That is a rare occurrence these days. It sounds like the car has stopped a little way from her house. It can't be visitors, she thinks to herself, they would park much closer. In the distance she thinks she can hear two, or is it three voices? Then there is silence. Just the sound of water dripping onto the ground at her feet. Time to water the azaleas, she decides. It is very warm and she wishes she had taken off her cardigan before coming into the garden.
Cartright is pacing
up
and down the
road, waiting for his boss at the lab to pick up his phone, 'Come on,
come on... where are you?'
Finally, there is a voice at the other end, 'Blake here.'
'Professor Blake, this is John Cartright. We have a problem.'
'What problem?'
'I have misplaced
M-4. Someone
stole my car from the car park in town.'
'What
on earth were you doing with
M-4 in your car?'
'I was... well... it's difficult to explain...'
'We can discuss your reasons later. But for the moment, I must know if
he was
activated? Blake asks sternly.
'I am afraid so. Car thieves took my car between ten and twenty minutes
ago.'
There is silence at the other end of the phone. 'Professor? Are you
still there?'
'Of course I'm still here. I'm thinking. This is a serious situation.
I'll alert
the police and our own security.
Was the tracking
device activated? Tell me it
was.'
'Negative,
sir. I saw no reason to do so. I'm very sorry.'
More silence from the professor. Finally he says, 'Stay
there. I'll be there in fifteen
minutes.'
And then the line goes dead.
Mrs Jones is walking along
along the side of her house when she hears the front gate open and the
sound of small footsteps. 'I wonder who that can be,' she says to
herself. Turning around, she hurries back into the front garden. 'Who's
there? Who is it?' she asks her visitor. Her eyes are of no
use to
her, but she has developed great hearing and can sense that someone is
standing close to her. 'Who is it? I'm blind, you know. I'm just an
blind
old lady, and there is no money in the house.' She is starting to feel
afraid.
Suddenly, a small hand takes hold of her hand and squeezes it gently.
'Hello Grandma.'
'What? I have no grandchildren. I don't even have any children. Who are
you? This isn't funny.'
'I don't have a grandma. Will you be my grandma?' The small hand
squeezes hers more tightly.
'How old are you, child? What's your name?'
'I don't know how old I am. My name is M.'
'Emma?'
'Not Emma. Just M. Can I stay with you?'
'Where are your parents?'
'My father is Doctor Blake. But he doesn't like me. He hurts me.'
'Does he? You'd better come inside and I'll make you a cold drink, and
you can tell me all about it.'
A police car stops in the lane near Mrs Jone's house. It parks just behind the dark blue BMW and two officers step out. The engine is still running but the car appears empty. There are some spots of fresh blood on the ground by the boot. One of the policemen radios his station to tell them they have found the car. His colleague is looking in the bushes by the side of the car. He finds something. 'John!' he shouts, 'come and look at this.'
Professor Blake arrives in town
at the car park. John Cartright is waiting anxiously by the side of the
road. 'Get in,' he tells his chief
scientist,
'and tell me exactly what
happened.'
The car drives away. Blake's mobile phone starts flashing. He puts it
to his ear, 'Blake
here.'
'Professor Blake, this is Inspector
Jardine, we have found your man's
car.'
'Was the boy inside?'
'No, he wasn't. But we did find something else. You'd better come
straight to the station. We need an explanation,'
'What did you find, Inspector?'
'Two bodies. This is a murder inquiry
now Professor, and you have some
explaining to do.'
The professor goes silent, and then says quietly, ' We'll be there in a
few minutes.'
He then turns and asks Cartright, 'Now tell me what you were doing with
M-4 in your car.'
Mrs Jones is sitting in the
conservatory
at the back of her house. Her little visitor is enjoying
some cold lemonade. 'What is this drink?' the child asks.
'It's lemonade! Haven't you had lemonade before?'
'No. I only drink water and a special drink that my father gives me.'
'Where is your mother?' the old lady asks.
'I don't have a mother.'
'Oh! I'm sorry about that. But where do you live?
'I don't know. I live with Professor Blake and his friends.'
'Do his friends hurt you too?'
'Everyone hurts me except Doctor Cartright. They say I am sick and they
are helping me to get
better. But why
do they hurt me?'
'I'm sorry but I don't know the answer to that.' Mrs Jones replies
sadly,
'What's wrong with your eyes? They look strange.' M asks her.
'I am blind. I can't see anything.'
'Can't see! That must be difficult. I can help you if you become my
grandma. Can I
live with you?'
Just then, the doorbell rings. Mrs Jones walks through to the hallway
and opens the door. She can feel there is more than one person there.
'Yes? Can I help you?'
'Good day madam. We are police officers and are looking for a small
child aged around seven years old. Have you seen one'
'Officer, I can't see anything. I am blind. But I'll be sure to call
you if I do.'
'Thank you madam. But we had better warn you that the child is
dangerous, and should not be
approached.'
'Dangerous? In what way?'
'I'm sorry, but we can't tell you that. Just call us if you hear
anything.'
'Of course, officer. I'll call you immediately. Can I help you with
anything else?
'No thank you. That will be all, for now. Good day to you.'
The police officers leave and Mrs Jones shuts the door. When she
returns to the conservatory, there is no sound. 'Are you still here?'
she asks. There is no answer; the child has gone.
John Cartright is driving
through the countryside towards the place where the police found his
car. In the back seat is his unconscious
boss. John had no other choice
but to hit him. He was asking too many questions. Suddenly, as he turns
a corner he sees a child standing in the road in front of him. He
brakes hard and the car comes to a stop. He pulls Blake from the car
and puts him on the grass by the side of the road. 'M!' he shouts, 'Get
in the car, please.'
'Are we still going on holiday Doctor Cartright?'
'Yes, we are. A very long holiday.'