SK8Five Adventures and The Mystery Of Hammond Hall

THE GREAT ESCAPE

CHAPTER 6

THE GREAT ESCAPE

Malc sat at the reference desk in the library, which opened on Sunday morning from 10 a.m. to lunchtime. He had taken his Roches Romes off at the outside door, put on his trainers with the skates safely tucked under his chair. Just as he was about to give up on finding anything on the town's local history and , in particular, Hammond Hall, he came across an article copied from an Aylesham Chronicle dated 26 February 1965.

Eric Willsford buys Hammond Hall

Eric Willsford, the man who, two years ago, was accused of taking part in the Great Train Robbery, but was found Not Guilty for the theft of gold bars from the Provincial Bank in the neighbouring town of Chelmsfarm, has purchased the Aylesham mansion " Hammond Hall, for an undisclosed sum of money. Many people still believe that he was the gang leader, but it was never proved.The gold bars worth approximately £1M were never recovered. Apart from Mrs Willsford, only one other member of the alleged gang survived a horrific car crash months later, escaping from the burning wreck with third degree burns to his face, hands and neck.

Malc wondered if the gold was hidden somewhere in Hammond Hall and perhaps Stella Stevens was wondering too!He put 10p in the photocopier machine, waited for a copy of the page to come out and, after changing back into his Roches, he skated down the road, quite excited about his find, and wondering if the others had found anything out. It was ages until their meeting at 6 o'clock tonight, he thought, as he attempted a Unity on the kerb. His legs were not on the same wavelength as his brain, as he stumbled and fell over!

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Pete was beginning to feel a bit better, as he turned over on the bed and looked around his make-shift prison. He was being kept a prisoner and he had done nothing, he thought! His head still hurt. There was no sign of his bike in the room, but the rucksack with his skates was lying in the corner. The room had no window, so he had to assume he was in the basement of the Hall. His watch said 4 p.m. He'd wished now that he hadn't left a note on the kitchen fridge door this morning before he left saying that he would be out all day and would be back at tea-time. He was intending doing a bit of skating on the half-pipe in Mallard Park, then spending the rest of the day with Kris. Surely someone would notice he wasn't around wouldn't they?

He had to get out, there was no way he was being tortured for information he didn't have.  He stared at the rucksack for inspiration. An idea struck him.  He got up and sneaked quietly across the room, took off his trainers and put on his K2 Fatties, pads and helmet. Pulling off the meagre blanket on the camp bed, he tilted the bed against the wall at a steep angle, opposite the door. It felt quite secure and he was almost confident it wouldn't slip.  He was going to use it as a 'drop in' to ram his captors and, hopefully, escape.

Pete climbed onto a chair and pulled himself up to the top of his ramp using the wooden beams which stretched across the roof. All he had to do was wait for the door to open, give himself a push off and he would hurtle down the bed, helmet down, using himself as a battering ram, and making his escape. That was the plan.If it didn't work he was a gonner! Pete waited, ready for action, eyes transfixed on the door.

Half an hour passed. Then an hour. Still no sound of his captors approaching. Pete's arms were starting to ache, if they didn't come soon he'd  have to come down for a rest. He'd give it five more minutes. Halfway through his countdown he thought he heard voices. They were getting louder. They were coming to get him! His braveness turned to jelly and he was visibly wobbling where he stood. His stomach heaved, he began swaying gently back and fro, head down, ready, as soon as the door opened.

The key began to turn in the lock and the door swung open.

Pete propelled himself forward like an Appollo rocket, head down, not daring to glance up at where he was headed.

There was a loud, high pitched scream as Pete, the battering ram, thudded into a woman's body, knocking her sideways and whatever food she was carrying landing hotly on any exposed flesh. His shoulder connected with something harder, and a painful deep grunt came from someone who had just had the stuffing knocked out of them. He braked quickly just outside his prison door and glanced back to see a man doubled up in pain. Pete grabbed for the door handle to lock them inside, when suddenly a hand seized his arm in a vice-like grip. The plan which had, so far, gone to perfection, had failed!