1.Chapter Two
The man crashed on through the undergrowth. He was a big man and was having trouble pushing through the mass of leaves, stems, lianas and roots. A hundred metres in, he stopped, and listened. He was certain he'd heard something. Or someone.
But the only noise he could single out in the constant hubbub of the jungle was the screech of a cicada.
He looked for tracks, but didn't really know what signs to watch out for. Then he saw... a bright glimpse of yellow! And it was moving, coming towards him!
He edged silently behind a great tree trunk. He could hear it now - a soft scratch, scratch as whoever it was came closer.
He leapt out from behind the tree.
The monkey dropped the banana skin and fled, screeching, into the shelter of the jungle.
The man smiled ruefully, picked up the banana skin, and flung it after the terrified creature. Then he made his way slowly back to the road.
Simpson, who had been watching this curious pantomime from the gully, somehow knew he had to remain silent. Henrietta was silent too, but she didn't seem to be sleeping. Simpson nudged her with his nose and yipped softly. She didn't move, so he nudged her again, harder.
Was it a game? He walked round Henrietta and wuffed quietly. Then he yelped. He took a shoe in his mouth and pulled. Still no movement.
This was definitely worrying. Simpson whined as loud as he dared, then he struggled up to the top of the steep slope and looked to where the man had gone.
The man in the hat jumped down into the road just in time to see the grey van shoot off down the road.
After it had gone fifty metres, it stopped and the doors opened. The men inside trotted back to where the man in the hat was looking at a stopwatch.
"Two minutes, forty two seconds. Not bad, not bad at all. But we need to get it down to under two." The other men gathered round. "Any ideas?"
"It's moving the money takes most of the time. Can we get help with that?"
The man with the stopwatch shook his head. "Three people would only get in each other's way. And it would mean smaller shares."
"Can we blow the door?"
"No - too noisy."
The discussion went on for another ten minutes, then the man in the hat stuck the stopwatch in his pocket. "Okay. We'll try a shorter distance between the blocking vehicles. Sammy, you only move on fifty metres after you've dropped the nails. Chong - come as close to the bend as you dare. Right. Once more, then we'll pack up."
"Once more, then we'll pack up." Thomas's great uncle passed him the ball. "You know, basketball wasn't even invented when I was your age."
"Oh, yeah." Thomas was unimpressed. He bounced the ball twice, took careful aim and let fly. It gently touched the back board, then fell straight through the hoop."
Evens then," he called. "Your turn. If you score, I clean your car; if you miss we go for ice cream."
The sprightly old gentleman took the ball and walked to the line. He wriggled his shoulders, then his backside, cleared his throat and shot. The ball hit the hoop, bounced off the board, tottered on the rim for a while, then fell to the ground."
Yeah!" cried Thomas. "Swensons here we come."
His great uncle Dan was saved from making feeble excuses by a frantic barking and yelping from the front gate."
It's Simpson! Hello Simpson. Where's Hal?" Thomas opened the gate to lead the beagle in, but Simpson dashed off down the road and stopped to look back.
"Come on, Simpson." Thomas picked up a bit of wood and threw it for the dog to retrieve.
"Dog looks a bit worried about something," said uncle Dan, frowning. "Who's Hal?"
"Friend of mine. It's her dog."
Simpson was running backwards and forwards now, yelping and barking.
"If this happened in one of those Lassie films I'd say your friend Hal was in some sort of trouble. But this isn't Hollywood," said uncle Dan. He looked at Simpson, who certainly wasn't being playful. "All the same, reckon you'd better go and see what he wants."
But Thomas was already unlocking his bike.
"Cavalry to the rescue, eh?"
Thomas didn't answer. He was too busy pedalling after Simpson. And the dog was racing off into the distance now he knew he was being followed.
At the roller-hockey pitch he jammed on his brakes. "Rick. Hey, Rick!"
But Richard was too busy to notice one more onlooker. He neatly out-manoeuvred an opponent and was just about to score.
"RICHARD!" Thomas looked for something to throw at the other boy. Then he let off his brakes and cycled straight into the mass of hockey players.
"What the ... ?"
"Hey."
"IDIOT!"
Richard was perfectly lined up for a beautiful goal. He raised his stick and let fly. Just as something crashed into his back. The ball skidded two metres and rolled to a stop."
You total ... Tee!" Richard lowered the stick he'd been going to use on his attacker.
"No! Hal. It's Hal!"
"Hal? What do you mean?"
"Get off!" The other roller-blade enthusiasts were jeering and chivvying.
Simpson arrived back at the group and began barking even louder than before.
"Hal?" asked Richard. Then he turned. "Come on, then!"
The odd trio raced off down the road; the beagle, the cyclist and the roller-blader.
Henrietta groaned. Her head! How her head hurt! She slowly opened her eyes. Leaves. Earth. Oh yes, that man chasing her. She tried to sit up and her head screamed at her to stop. She raised a hand and gingerly felt the bump on her temple.
OW!
She groaned again and managed to roll over on her side. It hurt a little less like that and after a while she managed to sit up.
"Simpson!" It came out as little more than a whisper.
"Simpson!" A little louder this time. But no barking in return.
Henrietta licked a finger and touched it to her throbbing head. Blood! She wanted to cry, but only soppy girls cry.
If Rick had run into a tree, he'd just laugh and hit it with his hockey stick, she thought. Somehow this cheered her, and after a while she managed to sit up.
"SIMPSON!" Much louder this time.
In reply there was the sound of someone crashing through the bushes.
The man! She'd given away where she was!
But instead of the man in the dirty brown shirt there was a small black and beige dog with a wet red tongue and a lot of sharp barks.
"Hal!" Richard and Thomas came tumbling down the slope. "What happened?"
It all came out in a rush. The van and the guns and the men and the vans and the guns and the chase and the tree.
"What? Slowly!"
Henrietta began again. Slower this time, and the boys began to get the gist of it.
"A robbery! Here?"
"Yes, they had guns!"
Eventually she managed to blurt out everything she'd seen. By the time they'd carried Henrietta up the slope and to the road, Thomas and Richard were expecting to see huge pools of blood, if not actual dead bodies.
The road was completely empty.
Henrietta stared in incomprehension. There should have been something. Spent cartridges from the guns; a few banknotes fluttering in the breeze; the van the sacks had come from, at least. "Maybe the men that were held up escaped, and drove off to hospital or the police. Yes, that must be it."
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Thomas looked around. "I mean; all these demolished houses look the same."
"Yes. This is it. Sixty one, the same as home." Henrietta sat down in the road, her legs wobbly all of a sudden.
She was even more exhausted an hour later. The boys got her on Thomas's bike, then wheeled her as far as the main road. A kindly lorry driver gave them a lift most of the rest of the way. They would have been even more grateful if he'd not been a fish salesman but, as Thomas put it, any port in a storm. Simpson thought it was just fine.
The boys wanted to go straight to the police, but
Henrietta overruled them. Her head hurt like anything, and she felt really dreadful. She wanted a wash and a hot drink. And even the bravest, most independent twelve-year-old needs her mum sometimes.
But when they arrived at her house, there was already a police car in the driveway. And every light in the house was on! The party stumbled, exhausted, in through the front door.
"I saw them!" Henrietta was the first to speak. "I saw the robbers."
"Hetty! Are you all right?" Mrs Lim looked quite distraught. "Oh my god! You're such a mess." She hugged her daughter to her, raising quite a scream when she touched the bump on Henrietta's head.
"If I might ask a few questions." The senior policeman seemed quite nice. "Just what did you see? Can you remember what they looked like?"
"They had guns. And one had a brown hat. The others had sort of grey overalls."
"Slowly, slowly. Where did you see them?" He smiled and took Henrietta's hand.
"The kampong, of course."
"The kampong?"
"Where the hold-up was."
"Hold-up?"
"Yes, the hold-up. The armoured car."
"Armoured car? Look, lets start from the beginning. They must have used a ladder to get in, is that where you saw them?"
Now it was Henrietta's turn to look startled. "Ladder?"
"To get to the bedroom window. To steal your mother's jewellery. Now when did you see them? Coming out again?"
"Who?" She was near to tears now.
"Hetty darling, my ring. My beautiful ring. Did you see the men who stole it?"
This time, Henrietta really did cry. She held onto her mother and sobbed and sobbed. Just how many crooks were there out and about today?
1.Chapter Three
"But Mum, I did see it. I really did."
"Don't worry about it, dear." Mrs Lim tucked the sheets in tightly and