Chapter Twelve Caught
Rated Blue Star for all ages. Some mild violence
As the darkness wrapped itself around them, the Bob-Whites walked quietly, avoiding conversation and were soon at the grove of trees that surrounded the Antique Barn. Its lights were on and, along with Carl Reid’s Mercedes, there was a big Cadillac parked out front. The Inspector was waiting. Dan, Mart and Di moved to the rear of the store and Patou spoke in whispers to Trixie, and then followed behind her as she hurried across the yard and up the steps of the store. She placed the bag on the porch and quickly descended the steps as the Inspector swiftly moved to the other side of the barn. Mart’s suggestion of throwing pebbles against the window was smarter than knocking. She took careful aim before flinging the small stones--
unlikely to break the glass--at the storefront, and then hurried out of sight. She threw a look over her shoulder knowing that Honey, Jim and Brian would be wondering why she had not returned to her assigned position. But she just couldn’t bring herself to be that far from what was happening. She slipped into the shadows near the edge of the porch, knowing her friends would not risk calling out to her.
On the other side of the barn, the Inspector gesticulated wildly, obviously urging her to go back to the others. Trixie did something she was very good at. She ignored him.
She almost held her breath as the door to the store opened and she heard footsteps.
“It’s the doll, alright, Bill,” Carl Reid’s distinctive gruff voice was clearly audible. “Guess those dumb little girls knew what was good for them, after all.”
Trixie scowled at both the dumb and little girls. Carl Reid was going to have to eat his words.
There were more footsteps and Trixie risked peeking around the corner of the barn. Reid was back on the porch and he was no longer alone. Another man was with him.
“We’re behind schedule. Let’s get a move on and get the paper inside,” the newcomer, presumably Bill, said.
The two men strode down the steps and crossed to the Cadillac. A moment later, the trunk was open and they were unloading cartons.
“Maybe next time you could pick Florida or Hawaii for our operation,” the other man said. “The North east is too damned cold.”
“Things were too hot in Florida,” the store owner retorted.
“Well they were almost too hot here. How the hell did you let two nosy kids run off with the damned doll?”
“We got it back, didn’t we? That’s what counts.”
“Getting back on schedule is what counts. We’re a full day behind.”
Reid snorted. “Who cares?”
“Louie cares, that’s who. The pickup should have been yesterday.”
“Then why don’t you stop whining, and we can all get to work.”
They transferred the last of the boxes inside and a moment later, the shades of the store were drawn.
Trixie took a couple of tentative steps, but the night was so still and quiet that the crunch of gravel sounded loud and she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could see the outline of her friends in the tree grove. Jim waved her towards him but she shook her head, hoping he could see her, too.
The Inspector had told them it would be a lengthy wait as he was keen to catch them with both money and plates. Trixie wrapped her arms around herself trying to get warm. That new crook was right about one thing—it really was cold. After what seemed like hours had passed, she heard the faintest of noises and again peered tentatively around the corner of the barn. Sure enough, Inspector Patou was slowly mounting the steps. He threw her a look of warning, then raised one of his long legs and kicked hard, forcing the front door to fly open.
The noise gave Trixie the cover she needed. With the shades down, she figured she could risk going onto the porch—perhaps she would be able to hear the arrest, even if she couldn’t actually see it.
“Halt. I am Inspector Patou of the Paris Sûretè and I am here to place you under arrest.”
Fortunately for Trixie, a slight gap at the side of one of the blinds allowed her to see what she hoped to see—Carl Reid and his friend with their hands in the air. She turned and gestured towards her friends in the distance and then ran into the store.
“I knew you’d get them, Inspector,” she cried, spying the piles of newly printed money on the counter.
Honey, Jim and Brian all arrived, breathless, right behind her.
The Frenchman and the teenagers all stared at the two men before them.
“That’s no gun. It’s some kind of ID,” Carl Reid said. Instantly, the other man reached into his jacket and, before the Inspector had time to react, produced a large revolver.
Carl Reid crossed the room, opened a drawer, and brandished a second firearm.
“I don’t think you’ll be arresting anyone,” he snarled. “You kids, over here.”
The four teenagers did as they were told, Brian taking Honey’s hand in his and Jim moving to stand beside Trixie. The other man had crossed over to the Inspector and quickly searched him, taking his weapon. The Frenchman shot an anguished look at the Bob-Whites.
“Looks like you lot have stuck your noses in too far, this time,” Carl Reid said, fixing his gaze on Trixie. “And it’s gonna cost you.”
“You’re never going to get away with this,” Trixie returned, defiantly.
“Right. Cause you are really in a position to do something about it.” The store owner laughed.
“You don’t think the Inspector would come here without back-up, do you?” Trixie brazened.
“That’s right. You’re surrounded, fella,” Honey added, reminding Trixie of another time the two of them had faced off against criminals.
“We’ll see about that.” Carl snapped.
At that moment, a rear door opened and Dan, followed by Di and Mart entered the room. Right behind them was a third man and he had a gun trained on the three teenagers.
“Look what I found, when I was starting to load the goods,” he said.
Carl Reid moved a little closer to Trixie, his sneering lips stretched over his yellowing teeth in a mockery of a smile “Back-up, I presume?”
It did not take long for the two men to tie up all of the Bob-Whites and the Inspector. Carl Reid, gun in hand, stood watching. The group was lined up and forced to sit down. The storeowner nodded at one of his cohorts to keep an eye on the prisoners before retreating towards the shop counter where the money was being stacked.
“I can’t believe this,” Trixie fumed, keeping her voice low and turning towards Mart. “How did you guys get caught?”
“How did we get caught?” Mart hissed back.
“A guy with a gun,” Dan supplied. “You?”
“A girl who never does what she’s told,” Brian said.
“Please don’t argue,” Di begged. “It’s horrible enough.”
“Di’s right.” Jim glanced across to their captors and back to his friends.
There was a murmur of sorry.
“What are we going to do?” Honey whispered.
“I don’t know if there is anything we can do,” Jim admitted.
“Don’t you bet on it.” Trixie wriggled in position next to Honey. She had at least one idea, if only she could pull it off.
“Keep it down.” Carl Reid glared at them. “Or I’ll gag the lot of you, like the Frenchman, here.”
The Inspector had been gagged as well as tied up. Trixie suspected he would have fought harder but the guns being trained on her and her friends had ensured his reluctant cooperation.
“You really blew it this time, Reid,” the one named Bill snarled. “You know how Louie feels about loose ends.”
“Won’t be any,” Carl Reid returned tersely, causing Diana’s eyes to fill with tears. She had not been in as many dangerous situations as Trixie and Honey and her natural fear was heartbreaking to witness.
“It’s okay, Di,” Mart said softly. “We’ll be alright.”
“Sure, you will.” Reid laughed nastily.
“There’s a big difference between counterfeiting and murder,” Brian added.
Carl Reid didn’t respond, merely shrugged his shoulders. “Prison is prison.”
“But it’s not a death sentence.” Honey was frightened, too. Trixie knew it. But her friend was obviously doing her best to distract their captors.
“She’s right,” Dan said. “And, how you treat us now will determine the rest of your lives.”
“Assuming we get caught, kid.” The third man eyed them with derision.
“Oh, you’ll get caught,” Diana cried, finding her voice.
“That’s for sure,” Jim added, grimly.
“If the police don’t find you my father will.” Honey glared at them. “He’ll hunt you and track you down if anything happens to us.”
“Who is he? Walker, Texas Ranger? James Bond?” Bill sneered.
“Matthew Wheeler,” Jim said simply.
“The billionaire!” The third man spun around to face Carl Reid. “He has the resources to track us anywhere in the world.”
“In the universe,” Honey observed helpfully.
Carl Reid did his best to look unimpressed but his cohorts were obviously unsettled by the information.
Sensing their momentary distraction, Trixie moved against her friend and felt Honey shift slightly, giving her some cover. Trixie knew that her friend had somehow guessed that she had a plan, which was true enough.
The good thing about there being seven Bob-Whites plus one French police officer was that only two of the bad guys had been free to tie up their captors. They hadn’t wanted to mess around, so they’d tied fast. Trixie’s bonds were tight, but not as tight as they could have been.
For years, Lady, Mrs. Wheeler’s horse and Honey’s favourite mount, had belied her seemingly gentle nature, by blowing herself up, allowing the girth to slack and throwing her rider. Trixie had taken a deep breath, willing herself to expand, when her hands were pulled behind her back. Now, she was hoping that action meant that her bonds could be loosened enough for her to untie herself.
Thanks to Honey and the others, no one was paying that much attention to her as she wriggled her arms and hands. It wasn’t easy and she forced herself to ignore the conversation that continued around her and concentrated as hard as she could. With a lot of effort, Trixie eventually managed to untie her wrists. Of course, that didn’t mean much. She glanced at Honey next to her and her friend shifted her body more, increasing the amount of cover from their captors, who, leaving Bill, pacing back and forth in front of the group, had gone back to stacking and packing the counterfeit bills. They then began carrying them out to their waiting car.
Using Honey as a shield, Trixie, kept her gaze level and reached down to carefully untie her feet. She flexed them a bit to bring feeling back. A nudge from her other side made her shift her focus to Mart. She leaned toward him, but he shook his head, flicking his own blue eyes towards the rear of the store. Trixie took a deep breath. She knew he was right. Their best chance for escape was if she went for help. She watched the man who had been left to guard them. He was obviously not in the least bit concerned about a bunch of teenagers escaping. He kept moving towards the front of the store, keeping an eye on his cohorts, as if he was just anxious for the whole thing to be over. When he did turn to check the prisoners, his attention seemed focussed on the French detective. Quickly, she began to slide along the floor, moving as quietly as possible. Luck was with her and she reached the door without incident. Heart pounding, she reached up to grab the handle of the storeroom door. To her relief, it turned without making a noise. Easing her way through the narrow gap, she thought she was home free, when a rough hand reached down and grabbed her, dragging her to her feet.
“What the hell, Bill?” Carl Reid demanded as he pulled Trixie back into the store.
Bill stared in amazement, as did most of the captors, save Honey and Mart.
“I’ll tie this little troublemaker myself, this time. She won’t be going anywhere unless I say so, and I figure I owe her after all of the problems she’s caused me. Maybe I should just shoot her and be done with it.”
The Bob-Whites all struggled against their bonds. Jim’s green eyes flashed fury.
“Or maybe, I should take her friend, the rich antique expert with me instead. Bet her daddy would pay to get her back.”
“No!” Trixie cried as he finished tying her bonds and shoved her roughly down onto the floor. She looked from friend to friend, seeing their anger and fear. Tears slid down Diana’s cheeks and she began to cry.
Honeys eyes filled at the sight. “Don’t, Di. They won’t get away with this.”
Trixie nodded at her friend’s words, but secretly she felt hope ebbing away. They were trapped and she could not see how they could possibly save themselves.
Author's Notes: Thank you a thousand times to Deanna and Vivian who persisted with this, in spite of it being a pretty naff story. Thank yo MaryN for making it look so pretty. And thank you to anyone who, after all this time, came back and kept resding.
Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
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As the darkness wrapped itself around them, the Bob-Whites walked quietly, avoiding conversation and were soon at the grove of trees that surrounded the Antique Barn. Its lights were on and, along with Carl Reid’s Mercedes, there was a big Cadillac parked out front. The Inspector was waiting. Dan, Mart and Di moved to the rear of the store and Patou spoke in whispers to Trixie, and then followed behind her as she hurried across the yard and up the steps of the store. She placed the bag on the porch and quickly descended the steps as the Inspector swiftly moved to the other side of the barn. Mart’s suggestion of throwing pebbles against the window was smarter than knocking. She took careful aim before flinging the small stones--
unlikely to break the glass--at the storefront, and then hurried out of sight. She threw a look over her shoulder knowing that Honey, Jim and Brian would be wondering why she had not returned to her assigned position. But she just couldn’t bring herself to be that far from what was happening. She slipped into the shadows near the edge of the porch, knowing her friends would not risk calling out to her.
On the other side of the barn, the Inspector gesticulated wildly, obviously urging her to go back to the others. Trixie did something she was very good at. She ignored him.
She almost held her breath as the door to the store opened and she heard footsteps.
“It’s the doll, alright, Bill,” Carl Reid’s distinctive gruff voice was clearly audible. “Guess those dumb little girls knew what was good for them, after all.”
Trixie scowled at both the dumb and little girls. Carl Reid was going to have to eat his words.
There were more footsteps and Trixie risked peeking around the corner of the barn. Reid was back on the porch and he was no longer alone. Another man was with him.
“We’re behind schedule. Let’s get a move on and get the paper inside,” the newcomer, presumably Bill, said.
The two men strode down the steps and crossed to the Cadillac. A moment later, the trunk was open and they were unloading cartons.
“Maybe next time you could pick Florida or Hawaii for our operation,” the other man said. “The North east is too damned cold.”
“Things were too hot in Florida,” the store owner retorted.
“Well they were almost too hot here. How the hell did you let two nosy kids run off with the damned doll?”
“We got it back, didn’t we? That’s what counts.”
“Getting back on schedule is what counts. We’re a full day behind.”
Reid snorted. “Who cares?”
“Louie cares, that’s who. The pickup should have been yesterday.”
“Then why don’t you stop whining, and we can all get to work.”
They transferred the last of the boxes inside and a moment later, the shades of the store were drawn.
Trixie took a couple of tentative steps, but the night was so still and quiet that the crunch of gravel sounded loud and she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could see the outline of her friends in the tree grove. Jim waved her towards him but she shook her head, hoping he could see her, too.
The Inspector had told them it would be a lengthy wait as he was keen to catch them with both money and plates. Trixie wrapped her arms around herself trying to get warm. That new crook was right about one thing—it really was cold. After what seemed like hours had passed, she heard the faintest of noises and again peered tentatively around the corner of the barn. Sure enough, Inspector Patou was slowly mounting the steps. He threw her a look of warning, then raised one of his long legs and kicked hard, forcing the front door to fly open.
The noise gave Trixie the cover she needed. With the shades down, she figured she could risk going onto the porch—perhaps she would be able to hear the arrest, even if she couldn’t actually see it.
“Halt. I am Inspector Patou of the Paris Sûretè and I am here to place you under arrest.”
Fortunately for Trixie, a slight gap at the side of one of the blinds allowed her to see what she hoped to see—Carl Reid and his friend with their hands in the air. She turned and gestured towards her friends in the distance and then ran into the store.
“I knew you’d get them, Inspector,” she cried, spying the piles of newly printed money on the counter.
Honey, Jim and Brian all arrived, breathless, right behind her.
The Frenchman and the teenagers all stared at the two men before them.
“That’s no gun. It’s some kind of ID,” Carl Reid said. Instantly, the other man reached into his jacket and, before the Inspector had time to react, produced a large revolver.
Carl Reid crossed the room, opened a drawer, and brandished a second firearm.
“I don’t think you’ll be arresting anyone,” he snarled. “You kids, over here.”
The four teenagers did as they were told, Brian taking Honey’s hand in his and Jim moving to stand beside Trixie. The other man had crossed over to the Inspector and quickly searched him, taking his weapon. The Frenchman shot an anguished look at the Bob-Whites.
“Looks like you lot have stuck your noses in too far, this time,” Carl Reid said, fixing his gaze on Trixie. “And it’s gonna cost you.”
“You’re never going to get away with this,” Trixie returned, defiantly.
“Right. Cause you are really in a position to do something about it.” The store owner laughed.
“You don’t think the Inspector would come here without back-up, do you?” Trixie brazened.
“That’s right. You’re surrounded, fella,” Honey added, reminding Trixie of another time the two of them had faced off against criminals.
“We’ll see about that.” Carl snapped.
At that moment, a rear door opened and Dan, followed by Di and Mart entered the room. Right behind them was a third man and he had a gun trained on the three teenagers.
“Look what I found, when I was starting to load the goods,” he said.
Carl Reid moved a little closer to Trixie, his sneering lips stretched over his yellowing teeth in a mockery of a smile “Back-up, I presume?”
It did not take long for the two men to tie up all of the Bob-Whites and the Inspector. Carl Reid, gun in hand, stood watching. The group was lined up and forced to sit down. The storeowner nodded at one of his cohorts to keep an eye on the prisoners before retreating towards the shop counter where the money was being stacked.
“I can’t believe this,” Trixie fumed, keeping her voice low and turning towards Mart. “How did you guys get caught?”
“How did we get caught?” Mart hissed back.
“A guy with a gun,” Dan supplied. “You?”
“A girl who never does what she’s told,” Brian said.
“Please don’t argue,” Di begged. “It’s horrible enough.”
“Di’s right.” Jim glanced across to their captors and back to his friends.
There was a murmur of sorry.
“What are we going to do?” Honey whispered.
“I don’t know if there is anything we can do,” Jim admitted.
“Don’t you bet on it.” Trixie wriggled in position next to Honey. She had at least one idea, if only she could pull it off.
“Keep it down.” Carl Reid glared at them. “Or I’ll gag the lot of you, like the Frenchman, here.”
The Inspector had been gagged as well as tied up. Trixie suspected he would have fought harder but the guns being trained on her and her friends had ensured his reluctant cooperation.
“You really blew it this time, Reid,” the one named Bill snarled. “You know how Louie feels about loose ends.”
“Won’t be any,” Carl Reid returned tersely, causing Diana’s eyes to fill with tears. She had not been in as many dangerous situations as Trixie and Honey and her natural fear was heartbreaking to witness.
“It’s okay, Di,” Mart said softly. “We’ll be alright.”
“Sure, you will.” Reid laughed nastily.
“There’s a big difference between counterfeiting and murder,” Brian added.
Carl Reid didn’t respond, merely shrugged his shoulders. “Prison is prison.”
“But it’s not a death sentence.” Honey was frightened, too. Trixie knew it. But her friend was obviously doing her best to distract their captors.
“She’s right,” Dan said. “And, how you treat us now will determine the rest of your lives.”
“Assuming we get caught, kid.” The third man eyed them with derision.
“Oh, you’ll get caught,” Diana cried, finding her voice.
“That’s for sure,” Jim added, grimly.
“If the police don’t find you my father will.” Honey glared at them. “He’ll hunt you and track you down if anything happens to us.”
“Who is he? Walker, Texas Ranger? James Bond?” Bill sneered.
“Matthew Wheeler,” Jim said simply.
“The billionaire!” The third man spun around to face Carl Reid. “He has the resources to track us anywhere in the world.”
“In the universe,” Honey observed helpfully.
Carl Reid did his best to look unimpressed but his cohorts were obviously unsettled by the information.
Sensing their momentary distraction, Trixie moved against her friend and felt Honey shift slightly, giving her some cover. Trixie knew that her friend had somehow guessed that she had a plan, which was true enough.
The good thing about there being seven Bob-Whites plus one French police officer was that only two of the bad guys had been free to tie up their captors. They hadn’t wanted to mess around, so they’d tied fast. Trixie’s bonds were tight, but not as tight as they could have been.
For years, Lady, Mrs. Wheeler’s horse and Honey’s favourite mount, had belied her seemingly gentle nature, by blowing herself up, allowing the girth to slack and throwing her rider. Trixie had taken a deep breath, willing herself to expand, when her hands were pulled behind her back. Now, she was hoping that action meant that her bonds could be loosened enough for her to untie herself.
Thanks to Honey and the others, no one was paying that much attention to her as she wriggled her arms and hands. It wasn’t easy and she forced herself to ignore the conversation that continued around her and concentrated as hard as she could. With a lot of effort, Trixie eventually managed to untie her wrists. Of course, that didn’t mean much. She glanced at Honey next to her and her friend shifted her body more, increasing the amount of cover from their captors, who, leaving Bill, pacing back and forth in front of the group, had gone back to stacking and packing the counterfeit bills. They then began carrying them out to their waiting car.
Using Honey as a shield, Trixie, kept her gaze level and reached down to carefully untie her feet. She flexed them a bit to bring feeling back. A nudge from her other side made her shift her focus to Mart. She leaned toward him, but he shook his head, flicking his own blue eyes towards the rear of the store. Trixie took a deep breath. She knew he was right. Their best chance for escape was if she went for help. She watched the man who had been left to guard them. He was obviously not in the least bit concerned about a bunch of teenagers escaping. He kept moving towards the front of the store, keeping an eye on his cohorts, as if he was just anxious for the whole thing to be over. When he did turn to check the prisoners, his attention seemed focussed on the French detective. Quickly, she began to slide along the floor, moving as quietly as possible. Luck was with her and she reached the door without incident. Heart pounding, she reached up to grab the handle of the storeroom door. To her relief, it turned without making a noise. Easing her way through the narrow gap, she thought she was home free, when a rough hand reached down and grabbed her, dragging her to her feet.
“What the hell, Bill?” Carl Reid demanded as he pulled Trixie back into the store.
Bill stared in amazement, as did most of the captors, save Honey and Mart.
“I’ll tie this little troublemaker myself, this time. She won’t be going anywhere unless I say so, and I figure I owe her after all of the problems she’s caused me. Maybe I should just shoot her and be done with it.”
The Bob-Whites all struggled against their bonds. Jim’s green eyes flashed fury.
“Or maybe, I should take her friend, the rich antique expert with me instead. Bet her daddy would pay to get her back.”
“No!” Trixie cried as he finished tying her bonds and shoved her roughly down onto the floor. She looked from friend to friend, seeing their anger and fear. Tears slid down Diana’s cheeks and she began to cry.
Honeys eyes filled at the sight. “Don’t, Di. They won’t get away with this.”
Trixie nodded at her friend’s words, but secretly she felt hope ebbing away. They were trapped and she could not see how they could possibly save themselves.
Author's Notes: Thank you a thousand times to Deanna and Vivian who persisted with this, in spite of it being a pretty naff story. Thank yo MaryN for making it look so pretty. And thank you to anyone who, after all this time, came back and kept resding.
Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
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