The Warrior Sheep Down Under (13 page)

The real Alice Barton turned away from the window as the door finally burst open.

Oxo exploded into the room and skidded to a halt. He was seeing stars and moons and the walls were spinning. “Ouch!” he groaned.

The other warriors crowded in after him.

“Tuftella!” cried Sal.

The pretty lamb they'd seen on the windowsill was in the middle of the floor, staring up at them.

“We have been called by the Songs of the Fleece,” continued Sal. “We have traveled from far-away England to save you from distress.”

The lamb backed slowly away.

“Crazy Brits,” it bleated. Then it jumped into the young woman's arms.

“I told you she wasn't worth it,” sniffed Jaycey, and she flounced to the other side of the room.

The others were a bit surprised at Tuftella's reaction, but they'd never rescued a maiden in distress before, so weren't sure what to expect. They gathered around the young woman and tried to coax the lamb to lift its face.

The woman stroked its head gently. “Come on now, Guinevere, don't be silly. They won't hurt you.” She stared at the group of sheep who were blinking up at her. “Well,” she murmured. “I didn't expect knights in shining fleece.”

• • •

Far below, Ida jumped the last few feet to the ground. She hadn't climbed down a rope since she was at school and had been relieved to find that, like riding a bike, it was a skill you don't forget. “Good job she had sheets and blankets and not a duvet…” she muttered as she edged her away around the stone base of the tower. “Couldn't have made much of a rope out of one of them.”

• • •

Inside the office, Mr. Creeply was smiling thinly. The chaotic mess that he'd first walked into had been transformed. Papers were stacked in neat piles, tied with tape. The filing cabinets and cupboards were labeled A–Z and the desk was entirely clear except for one box in the middle. It was marked “Deeds to the Property Known as Barton's Billabong.”

In front of the desk stood a dripping plumpish woman with a towel wrapped around her shoulders. To one side of the room leaned an equally wet and dripping Shelly, who had dived in and rescued the plumpish woman from the lake. And beside Shelly, stood a very dry-looking Deidre.

Mr. Creeply regarded the expectant, plum-haired lady before him.

“I have to tell you, dear lady,” he told her, “that your late uncles Motte and Bailey left their affairs in a considerable mess. And I don't mind admitting that, when I set to work, I feared I would never sort out their paperwork in time for your arrival. But I was prepared for battle, and I was armed with my secret weapon. Shall I let you into my little trick of remaining undisturbed, no matter what is going on around me?” His smile got a little fatter. “Earplugs.” He took a pair from his pocket with a flourish and placed them on the desk beside the deed box.

“So.” He smiled again. “Congratulations are in order to
both
of us.” With another flourish, he spread prints of the unflattering photos across the desk.

The lady in front of him winced but said nothing.

“You have proved yourself a true Down Underer,” continued Mr. Creeply. “And your credentials are impeccable.”

“Oh no they're not!”

Everyone turned and stared at Ida, who was marching through the doorway. “And I'm here to peck them! That is
not
Miss Alice Barton. The real Alice Barton's been locked at the top of the tower for weeks.”

Mr. Creeply's smile suddenly shrank to nothing as a young blond woman carrying a pet lamb appeared behind Ida.

“That's right,” said the newcomer. “I'm Alice Barton.”

“Holy-moly…” murmured Shelly.

Otherwise there was complete silence for a moment. Then the plum-colored bangs shook slightly and its owner gave a tinkly laugh.

“Don't be ridiculous, poppet.
I
am Alice Barton.”

The blond-haired woman shook her head. “No.
I
am.” Suddenly firm, she looked straight at Mr. Creeply and the words came tumbling out. “I'm a sheep farmer down in South Australia and when I read in the newspaper that Motte and Bailey had died and left everything to
me
, I came out here to see the old place. My parents brought me once when I was a little girl. I feel really bad that we lost touch but…” She shrugged. “We did. Anyway, I didn't want the Billabong. Not for myself. It's a beautiful place and the sanctuary is great and I wanted it to stay just as it is. I knew if I didn't claim it, it would go to Frank.” She shrugged again. “So I came up to see him. I phoned to say when I'd be arriving and someone called Nat Golding answered the phone and came to meet me from the plane. He said he was the new hired hand.” She turned to the plum-haired woman. “But he didn't take me to meet Frank. He brought me straight in here and locked me in the tower.”

Mr. Creeply sat back heavily. His face had drained even of its natural gray color, and his hands were trembling.

“It's not possible,” he croaked. “Here is the birth certificate Miss Barton sent me.” He took a folder from the desk drawer. “And letters she's received over the years from the Mr. Bartons…”

“Fakes,” said Ida. She was getting agitated. All this was important but she still didn't know where Tod or Frank were. “They've got to be forgeries and fakes.”

Mr. Creeply raised his eyes from the desk. “So, who is
this
then?” he asked faintly, staring at the woman with the plum-colored bangs.

“Her name's Avaricia Golding,” said Deidre, stepping calmly forward. “But don't feel too bad about it, Mr. Creeply. You're not the first solicitor she's fooled.”

“Well, well,” said Avaricia. “Not such a drippy little Deidre Dishcloth after all, are you?”

Deidre ignored her and continued talking to Mr. Creeply. “I'm Deidre Chance, International Fraud Squad. I've been on her case for months. She and her brother travel the world cheating heirs out of their inheritance.”

Avaricia smiled smugly. “Well, we are an excellent team. Nat's very good with keys and locks and things and I have a Grade A in forgery. I've got the certificate to prove it.”

Mr. Creeply's head was reeling. “But why undertake all those dreadful challenges just to get your hands on a wildlife sanctuary in the middle of nowhere?”

Avaricia smiled broadly. “If you don't give me those deeds, Mr. Creeply, you're going to find out. More quickly than you might wish.”

Listening just outside the door, Nat took this as his cue. It was time to act. He had been shocked rigid when Ida had run in through the front doorway. He couldn't imagine how she'd got out of the locked room. And he'd been just as shocked when the real Alice and her pet lamb had come hurrying down the stairs. But it didn't matter how they'd escaped. He'd watched and waited, cunningly he thought, and now they were all trapped in the office like fish in a net. He stepped into the doorway. “You tell him, sis,” he said. “I'll be back in five.”

Avaricia turned and nodded at her brother, still smiling.

Nat disappeared again, slamming and locking the office door behind him. Things might not have gone quite to plan, but he felt in control again.

He glanced up and saw the five sheep who'd got in his way earlier finally coming down again.

If going up a circular staircase had been difficult for the warriors, then coming down was all but impossible and had taken them ages. They tumbled down the last few steps and tottered dazedly out of the tower into the sunshine, looking for Tuftella. They staggered back across the rope bridge, too dizzy to worry about trapping their hooves.

Nat watched them go and resisted the temptation to give them a kick. This was no time for petty revenge. He selected the right key and unlocked the dungeon door. He and Avaricia still had a top card up their sleeves. Two, in fact: they had the old man. And the boy. It was time to use them.

Tod and Frank heard the key turning in the lock. “Let's rush him,” said Tod. “We could manage between us.”

“Not from here, mate,” said Frank. “Not up to our knees in water. Best to keep quiet and stick to plan A.”

The door opened and the beam from Nat's flashlight suddenly flooded the dungeon with light. Tod saw for the first time a wooden rowboat bobbing gently in the water on the far side of the dungeon.

“Enjoying your swim?” asked Nat with a smirk.

He pointed a remote control pad at the boat and pressed a button on the keypad.

“See you guys, later,” he said from the top of the steps. Then he added with a nasty grunt, “Perhaps.”

He slammed the door behind him and locked it, leaving Tod and Frank in darkness again.

“What's that noise?” asked Tod.

They could both hear the quiet, rhythmic beep pulsing somewhere close by.

“Dunno, mate…” said Frank. “I never heard it before.”

Tod fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his Eppingham Farm key ring. He didn't have any keys, but he did have a tiny flashlight on it. It wouldn't have dazzled an ant. But he kept it on and splashed toward the noise.

“It's coming from the boat,” he said. “Did you know there was a boat here?”

“There's always a rowboat here,” replied Frank, rather irritably. “Since the beginning of time. But it's no use if we can't open the portcullis.”

Tod was standing beside the boat now. “It's got something in it.”

“What?” This was news to Frank.

“And that's what the beeping's coming from.”

“Show me.”

Tod heard Frank wading through the water toward him. He held his flashlight up and pointed the pathetic little beam down into the boat. It was full of plastic bags, packed tightly together and connected with wires. The beeping seemed to grow louder as Tod and Frank bent to read the print on the bags:

HIGH EXPLOSIVE

WARNING!!!

WILL DETONATE ON CONTACT WITH WATER.

“Walloping Wallabies…” muttered Frank.

Tod swallowed hard. The battery on his tiny flashlight gave up and the light went out.

• • •

Avaricia was enjoying herself in the office.

“You are quite right, Mr. Creeply,” she trilled. “Barton's Billabong
is
a pathetic little animal sanctuary in the middle of nowhere. But it also happens to be sitting on this.” From her damp pocket, she took a plastic wallet. It contained a map, which she spread on the desk.

“Carbon. Crystallized. You do know what crystallized carbon is?”

“Diamonds?” said a voice from the doorway.

Nat was standing there grinning. At the sight of him, the lamb in the real Alice Barton's arms bleated loudly. It remembered the kicks Nat had given whenever he'd had a chance. She squirmed from her owner's arms and fled.

Alice tried to follow but Nat barred her way.

“It'd be rude to leave before Avaricia's finished talking,” he said nastily. And he quietly closed the door.

Avaricia smiled and smoothed the map she had spread on the table. Shelly recognized it as one of the papers she'd seen Deidre studying at Tickler's Turnpike. After Deidre had picked the bag's lock with a bobby pin.

“Everyone knows this whole area is rich in minerals,” said Avaricia. “Mostly too deep to be worth extracting. But I just
love
diamonds, so when I saw Mr. Creeply's notice appealing for an heir to this place, I did a bit of digging. In Mr. Creeply's computer files. Hacking, I think they call it. And guess what? I found this old survey map showing a whole lot of lovely crystallized carbon. So I downloaded it.”

Mr. Creeply was utterly shocked. “You hacked into the confidential files on my computer? Files I hold on behalf of my clients? How dare you!”

“Oh, I dare anything,” replied Avaricia. “Then I had a mineralogist look at the map and he said it was genuine and there's a ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent chance of finding lovely, lovely diamonds. Right here. And soooo near the surface.”

Ida suddenly stamped her foot. “Never mind your diamonds. Where's Frank? Where's my grandson?”

Nat laughed. “We're coming to that in a minute.”

“Quite,” said Avaricia. “Now, there's only one way to be absolutely certain about the diamonds.”

It was Nat's turn again. “So we're going to blow the whole place up and have a look.”

“Which, as the rightful legal owner,” continued Avaricia, “I now propose to do.” Her face hardened as she turned back to Mr. Creeply. “As soon as you hand over the deeds and I
become
the rightful owner.”

Mr. Creeply picked up the deed box and clasped it to his chest.

Avaricia smiled. “We do have an insurance policy to
ensure
you hand them over.”

She held out her hand for the deeds. “It's called Frank. I believe he's locked in the dungeon with the explosives.” She glanced at her brother for confirmation.

Nat gave her a nod. “Yeah, he's still there. And the clock's ticking. Five minutes.” He grinned nastily. “Oh—and there's more. The kid's in there too.”

Down in the dungeon, Frank and Tod were in the water, working on the portcullis wheel again. They had scraped it free of rust but still it wouldn't turn. The beeping was shredding their nerves and they guessed their time was running out.

“Push again…” panted Frank. The wheel shifted a little, then stuck. “And again…”

They pushed, and this time the wheel creaked and ground round almost half a turn. Tod's arms were aching and his feet were going numb in the cold water.

“Once more, Uncle Frank…” Tod braced himself and pushed with all his strength on the wheel.

“She's moving!” cried Frank.

Gradually, as they kept on turning the wheel, the portcullis began to rise. But the beeping was getting faster.

In the office immediately above the dungeon, the tension was becoming unbearable.

“Give her the deeds,” the real Alice Barton sobbed. “I don't want the Billabong. I don't want any diamonds. Just give her the deeds and let the old man and the boy go.”

Mr. Creeply hesitated. “I c-c-can't.” he stuttered. “It would be unethical to give away your rightful inheritance under threat.”

“It would be
unethical
to let my grandson die!” shouted Ida. “Please!”

Mr. Creeply's hands were shaking. He clutched the deed box tighter to his chest. “I…I don't know…”

Nat glanced at his watch again, then strode to the desk, leaned across, and grabbed the deed box. “Come on, Avaricia. It's their funeral. We gave them a chance. Let's get out before it goes up.”

He turned to the door and grabbed the knob. It came off in his hand.

There was an awful silence.

“Your funeral too, it would appear…” whispered Mr. Creeply .

• • •

In the dungeon, the portcullis was now half open.

“Can you row, Uncle Frank?” panted Tod.

“Never needed to out here in the bush, mate.”

“Then you can push.” Tod grabbed the side of the wooden rowboat and hauled himself carefully up and over the side. He settled himself as far away from explosives as he could and grasped the oars. “OK, Uncle Frank…Push.”

Frank pushed and Tod used the oars to steer the boat toward the open portcullis.

“Steady…steady…” panted Frank. “Don't get water on it…”

“I'm trying…” muttered Tod as the boat lurched forward and out into the lake. The beeping was getting louder and he could now see a digital timer attached to one of the bags. It was counting down. From one hundred and twenty seconds.

Tod grasped the oars more tightly and started to row more strongly, trying hard not to splash. “I can't wait for you, Uncle Frank,” he called. “Swim round. Find Gran. Warn her!”

• • •

Inside the office room, pandemonium had broken out. Avaricia was screaming at Nat, who was trying, with shaking hands, to fix the door handle, and Ida and Shelly were heaving at the bars which covered the small window.

“One minute!” sobbed Nat, on his knees. “One minute!”

“And counting,” said Ida stiffly.

• • •

Alice Barton's pet lamb was cowering in the shadows just outside the office door. It had fled from the man with the kicking feet into an even worse dilemma. On the other side of the moat, she could see the crazy Brit sheep. She knew she would feel safe in a flock. Even a flock made up of tourists. But there was the problem of the rope bridge between her and them. She didn't dare step on it.

The warriors were standing in a bemused huddle. They had expected to find Tuftella again somewhere at the bottom of the tower, along with her pale-faced, blond-haired human, but there had been no sign of either. Then Wills suddenly gasped and stared in wonder at something else. A small wooden boat was emerging from right under the tower. An old man was standing waist-deep in the water some way behind it. And sitting in the boat, pulling on the oars, was a boy they all knew well. The boy who brought them cauliflower and cabbage and other nice treats.

“It's Tod,” cried Wills.

The Merino lamb had also seen the boat, and with it her chance to get away from the tower without stepping on the rope bridge. She emerged from the shadows and teetered on the edge of the stone rim around the tower.

“And Tuftella!” cried Sal.

Tuftella wobbled for a moment, then hurled herself at the rowing boat and landed with a clack on top of the pile of plastic bags.

Tod flinched and stopped rowing for a moment, shoulders tensed, waiting for an explosion, but nothing happened. The beep went on beeping. Tod ignored the lamb that was now standing bleating agitatedly in front of him and rowed as hard as he could. He had to get the boat as far away from the tower as possible. And then he would have to dive overboard and swim for his life.

The warriors saw their Tuftella's graceful leap and began trotting along the side of the moat after the rowboat.

Forty seconds! Tod dropped the oars and stood up in the boat. He grabbed the lamb by the scruff of her neck and stuffed her down the front of his shirt. He raised his arms above his head and dived in. It was the split second after his feet left the boat that he saw the crocodile.