Kit Handsome and the Mysterious Strangers 3

"Let me get this straight," said Kit. "Hitler is in Boonhill and threatening to kill himself by jumping off our tower block."

 

"Yes Kit. Well, it might be someone dressed as Hitler, now that you come to mention it. Whoever it was certainly had good English. Knows all the swearwords."

 

"I'll go and investigate. In the meantime get me some torches, when I've finished with Hitler I'm going to investigate the cream-mine."

 

Harkaway drove Kit to Ivory towers, the only tower block on Boonhill, which was build during the 70s boom when, for a few weeks one June, it looked as if everyone on the mainland was moving to Boonhill. However, it turned out to just be one large family, and as a consequence Ivory Towers was inhabited by just seven families, each with a floor to themselves, and the Boonhill boom had ended the way of all booms everywhere, with embarassment and people losing money.

 

"Look," said Harkaway, "That's Hitler on the roof. I reckon he must be racked with guilt about what he did and about to kill himself."

 

"It's not Hitler," said Handsome patiently, "It's just somebody dressed as Hitler. I'll go up and talk him down, the last thing we want is a high profile suicide, it'll scare off the bank robbers and we're halfway to catching them. Follow me up the stairs and keep people away from the entrance to the roof."

 

Kit recognised the figure in the Hitler costume straight away. It was Jeff from the Boonhill spoon club.
 
Is that you Jeff?” said Kit.
 
“Yes,” said Jeff.
 
“Why you dressed as Hitler?”  Kit edged a few steps towards him as he spoke.
 
“To get media coverage for my case. You know like that Father’s for Justice, the ones who dressed as Batman, Spiderman and the like.”
 
“But they’re all superheroes, Jeff. Hitler is …” Kit paused, struggling to find the right word. “Hitler’s different.”
 
“It’s all Mrs Fenton had. Anyway, it doesn’t matter as long as my protest gets attention.”
 
“What’s your protest?” asked Kit, edging a few steps further. Though it didn’t sound as if Jeff was about to jump, it was important to be prepared for any eventuality.
 
“I’m protesting against the Muslims.”
 
“What Muslims?”
 
“The ones Mrs Overton saw. The foreigners. We don’t want any of that type on Boonhill.”
 
“There weren’t any Muslims, Jeff, they were apparitions.”
 
“I don’t care what religion they were, we should send ‘em back to the mainland. We’re only a small island, we can’t fit Muslims, apparations and Apaches on it.”
 
“I mean she imagined it, made it up. There are Muslims, no foreigners of any description."
 
Kit had edged a few steps closer. If Jeff did try to jump he had a chance of catching him as he fell. Kit had trained hard for just such an eventuality, spending a week on the mainland undertaking 'Hazardous Rescue' training, though to date the closest he had come to using his skills was the time he had to rescue Mrs Spiggot's seventeen year old cat Truffles from up a tree. It had been front page news on the Boonhill Gazette, though the way it was reported implied that the cat had rescued him. He still got teased about it to this day and even the Boonhill cats looked at him with a grin on their faces.
 
“What about the Apaches?" asked Jeff.
 
“There are no Apaches,” said Kit, “No Pawnee, no Cheyenne, no Arapaho, no Blackfoots, not so much as a single non-white face has been seen on this island in my lifetime. I checked with Boson, there hasn't been a single foreigner visit the island.”
 
“Oh. I see.” There was a pause. Kit wondered whether he should rugby tackle Jeff, he crouched down ready to spring, but Jeff was too close to the edge, there was a risk he’d simply knock him over. Plus he didn't trust the game of rugby, the ball was the wrong shape and all those men with their heads between each others thighs, something seemed wrong about that as well.
 
“What time is it?” Jeff continued.
 
“It’s just before four.”
 
“Can you give me a lift to Mrs Fenton’s. I might get a rebate if I bring it back before five.”
 
Jeff turned and strolled away from the edge, passing Kit who was still crouched down as if ready to pounce.
 
"What are you doing down there Kit? Too much rumpy pumpy with Sally give you a bad back? You should go easy at your age. Especially with a mainlander, you know what they say about mainlanders."

 

xxx

 

After fetching torches from the station Kit and Harkaway approached the abandoned cream mine.

 

"See," said Kit, as they reached the mine gates, "The lock's been cut right off. Someone's been using the mine."

 

"So Mrs Overton was right all along."

 

"That's not quite what I said, but best be quiet, in case the men are here before us."

 

They were armed with the most powerful torches to be had anywhere on Boonhill, though in the deep, dark recess of the mine the light seemed scanty indeed.

 

There were two shafts, one headed East, and one headed West, but Kit had a clear idea about which way was best. "We'll take the eastern shaft, Harkaway, that takes us in the general direction of the bank. Sure enough a few hundred yards along the main shaft they found a fresh offshoot, heading, Kit hastily calculated, in the direction of Boonhill Bank.

 

They followed the fresh shaft for what must have been nearly half a mile, until it came to an end.

"It looks like they're still digging."

 

Kit paused thoughfully, calculating the distance walked. "They must be near, though. We should have brought a measure. Let's have a look around, just to be sure." Their torches scoured the fresh, rich earch, and, almost immediately, Kit spotted the ladder, shortly after Harkaway had tripped on it.

 

"A ladder," said Kit.

 

"Ow," said Harkaway, clutching his foot.

 

Kit pointed the torch updwards, to where the ladder disappeared up a new vertical shaft.

 

"They must be nearly there," Kit reasoned. "That shaft is about 47 feet above us, the basement of the bank can't be more than a foot or so above that. Quick, let's get back. If my calculations are right they're going to raid the bank tonight."