‘Yes, I am,’ spluttered Hector as he raced to explain. ‘But the Colonel is fighting a shark. It’s a small shark in his aquarium. You see the plug came off in my hand and all of the water began to spill out. So the Colonel and his men pressed this button on the phone so you wouldn’t be bothered as they tried to rescue the fish. But it’s getting so noisy in here that there’s really not much point in you just droning on and on because the Colonel and his men aren’t listening.’
There was a moment of stunned silence before Colonel Bertrand gathered his wits.
‘Gosh,’ said Colonel Bertrand, ‘what an amazing imagination you have Hector. It’s wonderful that you can be so creative after your frightening experiences of the last two days.’
Suddenly, there was a crash as the sides of the aquarium broke under the weight of a soldier leaning in while trying to catch the fish. A wave of water sloshed into the office. The Colonel dived forward, and urged his men to catch the fish floundering on the floor.
‘What was that?’ asked the voice on the phone.
‘It was the sound of the aquarium breaking,’ said Hector.
There was a yell and a crash.
‘That was a man treading on the fish and slipping,’ said Hector keen to keep up his commentary.
Then there was a blue flash and a terrific short explosion.
‘That big bang was something electrical getting ruined by all of the water in here,’ said Hector unhelpfully as the Colonel let out a muffled yell of frustration. ‘And that’s the Bertrand getting angry.’
The next silence was longer than the last. Eventually, the man from Paris spoke in a new icy tone.
‘It seems that Hector’s imagination is not quite as productive as you make out Colonel. You are supposed to be looking after these children, not tending your office ornaments.’
‘I’m bored,’ said Hector,’ I’d like to ride in a tank, and I’d like to go to a cake shop with my dog Bandit. Is there a zoo near here?’
‘What a good idea,’ said the man from Paris, evidently still annoyed. ‘Bertrand, take the boy, the girl and their dog to a patisserie in a tank, and let him drive where it’s safe. Then, take them to the zoo.’
‘But it may not be safe,’ objected Colonel Bertrand.
‘You are a soldier Bertrand, or are you an office cleaner? Make sure it’s safe,’ said the man from Paris ending the call.
The finality of the click as the phone line went dead seemed to stop everything in the office, with the possible exception of the dripping water. Colonel Bertrand looked around at the chaos, while everyone else in the room looked at the Colonel.
Some time later Kate and Hector were playing happily on the swings not far from Colonel Bertrand’s office. It seemed strange to Kate that soldiers would want swings, slides, see-saws and a small play fort in their barracks. Later she saw children and mothers, and guessed that the soldiers’ families stayed at the camp.
Yet, they were the only ones playing. Kate noticed several children gesturing towards the play area, but their mothers shook their heads and took their hands to guide them away. It was as if Kate and Hector were indecent; somehow infected with danger.
While Hector had already forgotten about the damage and chaos he had brought to Colonel Bertrand’s office, and was simply enjoying the swings, Kate found herself confused. On one hand it sounded like an exciting day ahead of them. On the other, Hector had once again broken things, moaned, and got exactly what he wanted. There was something very annoying about that.
In addition, the Colonel’s concerns about their safety seemed genuine. She suspected that the self important man from Paris had ignored the Colonel simply because he was angry with him.
On top of all of this they still had not seen Mum and Dad. Just thinking about the last time she saw them moved Kate close to tears. She was worried about Dad; maybe his injuries were worse than she and Hector had been told. Kate wanted to cry and hold Mum. Most of all, she wanted to be with them; to be safe. Of course, she knew rationally that they were safer with the French police and special forces, and yet Mum and Dad and home was all she really wanted.
Kate wished she and Hector had never inherited the money. She wished Irvine Deeds was not related to them. She wished she could give the money to the horrible people who were trying to kill them. She wished she was in school doing something trivial, such as thinking of a way to get Hector to agree to watch the film she wanted to see tonight, rather than something involving cars or planes.
An odd thought then struck Kate. She realised that she did not know how much money she and Hector had inherited. All she knew was that it was more than a million pounds. However, from Inspector Smithson’s comments it sounded like it was much more than just one million. Maybe if they publicly gave it all to charity they would be safe; maybe their mad, distant relatives would call off the assassins.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a yell from Hector and the sound of a large engine. The sun shone and the wind blew the clouds into dazzling swirling patterns, but all were eclipsed by the arrival of the tank. It had metal tracks, a turret and a gun. If it was possible to die of happiness then Hector was in mortal danger. Hector’s heaven on earth was definitely on track.
Just a minute or two later Kate discovered that the surprising thing about the tank was that it was very small and cramped inside, especially compared to how large it was on the outside. In addition, it seemed to have all manner of sharp corners, edges and protruding stalks from which small but painful injuries could be received.
Kate did not want to admit it, but she was quite excited by the idea of a ride in a tank. Her surprise and delight grew more when she was invited to be the first to drive it.
‘Great,’ shouted Hector,’ I can fire the gun. Bang, Pow, take that, Bang.’
‘Who can we shoot? Who can we shoot?’ Hector continued as he bounced up and down.
The soldier who had helped them into the tank explained in impressively clear English that they were going to the firing range first, and then they would go to the cake shop in an armoured car. After the cakes they could go to the zoo. However, the Colonel had ruled out any chance that Kate or Hector might be allowed to drive on the roads, and the firing range was to make up for that.
As they made their way out of the camp the rumble and grind of the engine and tracks made everything else recede into the background. Kate was surprised to find she was allowed to drive. Of course, she had been told that she would get to drive the tank, but the confidence the soldier showed in her, allowing her to drive along the narrow roads of the camp, was still something of a revelation. Nevertheless, the soldier’s hands were never far from the steering yoke.
‘What sort of tank is this?’ asked Hector.
‘LeClerc,’ replied the soldier.
‘You’re a cleric?’ Kate clarified.
‘LeClerc, yes,’ repeated the soldier, ‘Main battle tank.’
Hector did not know what a cleric was. Kate, on the other hand, was completely puzzled as to why the tank should need a vicar. The LeClerc main battle tank is just called LeClerc, and the French do not routinely people their tanks with priests. As it happened the soldier was not religious, although he might have ventured a prayer that they would get through the next hour without any major damage.
As they followed the track out of the camp up the gently sloping hill to moorland above, Kate had a chance to look around at the bewildering array of lights and dials and buttons and knobs. Hector had found the controls that allowed him to move and position the gun, and was already yelling bang, pooow and boom, interspersed with shouts of ‘enemy at 2 o’clock,’ and ‘take that’.
After about fifteen minutes they reached a plain,