“ I’m sorry Mr Bentwhistle. You just look, well, you look…” Charlie stammered.
“Old?” replied Mr Bentwhistle, with a wry smile.
“ Well, yes,” said Charlie timidly.
“ Look son. Just because I have grey hair and I use a stick doesn’t mean I’m useless. The stick helps me bung leg, an old war injury. I was in a parachute regiment I’ll have you know. S.A.S. Broke the leg on an op in training. Rotten thing’s never got better. Anyway let’s plan this caper before we get Bess on the road.”
“ Aren’t you going to ring the police?” interrupted Chester.
“ On the way boy, on the way!” replied Mr Bentwhistle. He was becoming excited and the sparkle in his eyes was even brighter. Chester and Charlie looked at each other and laughed. “ Now lads this is what we’ll do.”
Thirteen
Bess spluttered into motion and chugged off on the mission to rescue Fiffi and Chuckles. Mr Bentwhistle was bent over the driver’s wheel, his face nearly touching the windscreen. Chester rode shotgun in the front, and Charlie squeezed into the back via the folding front passenger seat. Mr Bentwhistle had organised an Operation Rescue Pooch kit. The kit included phone (his and Charlie’s), binoculars, whistles, marbles, doggy chews, rope, tape and a torch. These he distributed to Charlie and Chester in two backpacks. Charlie had to admit that Mr Bentwhistle’s plan was brilliant.
The beetle chugged its way slowly up the freeway towards the market gardens on the outskirts of town. Mr Bentwhistle proved to be a very good driver, after a few minor kangaroo hopping incidents, and a failure to give way to his right at two roundabouts.
When the troupe reached Vine Valley, Mr Bentwhistle stopped to check final directions on his phone. It was decided that contacting the police was pointless, unless they had concrete evidence of Fiffi and Chuckles’ presence at the tomato farm. Charlie however would ring his mum and leave a message on her message bank as well as send a message via SMS to Tom.
After leaving the little hamlet of Vine Valley itself they made their way up a dirt road to where, in the distance, they saw a sign advertising, ‘ S& D Vine Ripened Tomatoes’. Mr Bentwhistle cut the motor, and parked in a quiet dirt track behind a clump of bright yellow wattle.
“ Right boys you both ready?” he asked, in a teacher like voice.
“ Check,” replied Chester and Charlie, in unison.
“ Chester you’re the quickest and skinniest. You make your way through the bushes and circle the farm from behind. Charlie you go up the side over there and carefully make your way to that high spot over by the dam. Hide and wait for my S.M.S. ‘Go, go go,’ got it? ‘Go, go go’ it will say. Chester you come up from behind when you hear Charlie’s ‘cooee’.”
“ Check,” chorused the boys, with excited, intense looks upon their faces.
“ I’ll wander up to the farm on the pretext that my car has broken down and I need some help. When they’re out you two can go in and check the place out. Get it.”
“ Got it!”
“ Good! Lets move.”
Fourteen
The farm was typical of a number of market gardens in the district. Basically a rectangle surrounded by fences, trees and bushes that sloped away from the road. The house was set up the back of the block and the tomato glasshouses were in neat rows to the right of the farmhouse. At the front of the block was a dam built to catch water from the run off further up the hill toward the main road.
Mr Bentwhistle made his way slowly up to the farm’s entrance and swung open the gate. He hobbled with his stick up the driveway leading to the house. He’d splashed water on his face to make it look like he was tired and worn out. The house was still when he approached and he made a point of knocking loudly on the front wire screen door with his stick. Then he waited.
Chester tracked like a leopard, through the line of trees and bushes that ran up the side of the farm. He easily straddled the wire fence at the back of the block. He noticed an old barn, which looked directly onto the back door of the house. He carefully sprinted to the barn and slipped quietly inside. All was quiet. Luckily the barn had a small loft, with a rough-cut window hewn in one side. He clambered up a rickety old ladder and positioned himself with a perfect view toward the back of the house.
Charlie shimmied up the roadside. On reaching a spot in sight of the dam he wedged his way under the fence and, hunched over, quickly ran to the edge of the dam. The dam was nearly empty so Charlie was able to crawl around its lip until he reached the pumping shed, which looked over the front of the house. He knelt behind the small building, took out the binoculars and focussed his attention on Mr Bentwhistle who had just knocked on the farmhouse front door.
They were all in place when Dave answered Mr Bentwhistle’s knock.
Fifteen
“ Hello old man. What do you want?” questioned Dave suspiciously.
Mr Bentwhistle immediately went into action. He stuck his foot and cane into the doorway to prevent Dave from shutting the door, and as he spoke he edged his way inside.
“ Oh young man. I’m so glad someone’s home. My old V.W. has conked out just up the road and I wonder if you can help me?”
Dave couldn’t stop the old man making his way inside, and before he knew it Mr Bentwhistle had made his way into the lounge room. He plonked himself down in a sofa, which sat next to a window with a view outside.
“ You couldn’t spare a drink mate I’m as dry as the bottom of a cocky’s cage,” he said, grabbing his chest in distress.
Dave was not sure what to do. Scar had told him to not let anyone in until he returned. But what could he do? He had to help this helpless old man. He went to the kitchen and fetched Mr Bentwhistle a glass of water. When he returned he found the old man looking out of the window.
“ Oh thank you so much. Bentwhistle’s the name. Not in the emergency road service. Silly old fool I am. Come along. Bring your tools. It’s not far. Anyone else here that can help?” Mr Bentwhistle said, as he downed his drink and began to make his way outside. Dave stood speechless.
“ Oh! I’m Dave. No I’m by myself. My mate Scar is out buying paint. The tools are in the shed. Won’t be long. I’ll meet you outside.”
“ Yes, yes. Thanks ever so much.”
Dave let Mr Bentwhistle outside then raced around the back of the house to fetch his tool kit. He returned quickly, carrying a bright red toolbox.
“ This way young man,” commanded Mr Bentwhistle. Dave had no choice but to follow. As the two men reached the swinging gate Mr Bentwhistle reached into his pocket and pressed the send button on his mobile phone.
Charlie felt the familiar vibration of the phone in his pocket. He pressed ‘Read Message’ and read ‘ Go, go, go!’” He stood and confidently called, ’cooee’ the sound of which echoed brightly through the trees toward the back of the farm where Chester was hiding.
Sixteen
The cooee drifted through the window. Chester immediately made his way out of the barn and sprinted across the back yard. He slipped around the side of the house stopping only to see if all was clear. Coming down from the dam he spotted a shock of red hair zigzagging its way across the paddock. The two met at the front door of the house and immediately went inside.
Chester whispered,“ How cool is this! It’s like Scooby Doo!”
“ Shush,” replied Charlie. “ We don’t know if anyone is in here do we?”
“ Let’s check the place out for Chuckles and Fiffi. You take the back rooms. I’ll take the front,” said Chester, with an excited cheesy smile.
They returned to the hall with disappointed looks on their faces.
“ Must be somewhere else on the farm.” Charlie said, scratching his head.
Chester thought for a while. He’d been in the barn and the dogs weren’t there. Suddenly he got excited, “ Hey Charlie, I bet they’re in one of the glass houses.”
“ Of course! They’ve got to be. Let’s go,” replied Charlie.
The two m
ade their way quickly across to where the tomato glasshouses were neatly lined up. There were sixteen of them. Chester decided to take the first eight and work toward the centre and Charlie would do the reverse.
Charlie looked back up the driveway towards the gate. All was still clear. He wondered how much time they had before Mr Bentwhistle would run out of excuses. He knew they had to find the dogs, and fast. Mr Bentwhistle was waiting for his call.
********
“ You must have just overheated mister. Seems all right now. Turn the motor over will you.”
Mr Bentwhistle tried to think quickly. He hadn’t had Charlie’s SMS yet so he knew they had not found the dogs. He was sure this Dave was the man who took Fiffi. His own disguise had obviously worked well. Shaving off his moustache worked wonders. He pulled the choke as far out as it would go and turned over the motor. The hot motor flooded and black smoke engulfed Dave whose head was under the bonnet.
“ Whoa! Hey push the choke in mate. You’ll flood it,” Dave shouted out, coughing.
“ Sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” called Mr Bentwhistle slowly, pushing the choke back in.
“ I think you’re thinking quite clearly old man,” said a gruff voice from outside the car.
Mr Bentwhistle was surprised to find Scar leaning through the window. He reached across and removed the keys from the ignition.
“ Out you get old fella,” ordered Scar.
“ Dave don’t you realise who this is?”
Dave hadn’t seen Scar and was startled on hearing his voice, banging his head hard on the bonnet of the V.W.
“ Ouch. Geeze that hurt. Is that you Scar?”
“ No it’s the sugar plum fairy. Of course it’s me! Now get over here. This is the bloke who owns the little dog.”
“ Oh he didn’t tell me.”
“ Dave why would he tell you who he is? He’s trying to get his dog back! You’re going to drive me crazy Dave! Now get out of the car old man and get moving. Dave you drive the van to the house and get the paint out of the back. We’ve got work to do. I’ll meet you in the glasshouse with the dogs. Hey mister you’ll get your wish. You wanted to see your little pooch. Well maybe it’ll be for the last time.’
Seventeen
Chester heard a cooee and ran to find Charlie waving him over to a glasshouse right in the middle of the group.
“ Hey friend what’s up?”
Charlie pointed through one of the panes of glass. Chester saw Chuckles lying motionless on the ground next to Fiffi who was also very still. They both looked dead to the world.
“ Chuckles!” cried Chester. “ Come on Charlie let’s get inside.”
Charlie looked through the glass, “ I think it’s too late.”
“ Come on Charlie,” said Chester. “ The door’s locked.”
Suddenly from inside the glasshouse Charlie saw Chuckles stir, “He’s not dead!” cried Charlie. “ He’s just sleeping. Chuckles! Chuckles!”
Chuckles slowly drew his body up to a standing position. Sleeping pills had made him drowsy but he was sure he heard Charlie’s voice.
Charlie began to slide a pane of glass from out of its metal support and to his relief found that it slid out easily. It didn’t take the boys long before enough panes had been removed for Charlie and Chester to squeeze into the glasshouse. Chuckles slowly dragged his body to Charlie who bent down and gave his dog the biggest hug ever.
“ I thought you were dead Chuckles. I really did,” he cried, tears welling up in his eyes.
Chuckles gave him a lick in response but it was obvious he wasn’t feeling the best. He needed to wake up.
Chester grabbed Fiffi who was still fast asleep, “ Hey,” he said to Charlie. “ Time to ring the police with your message.”
“ Yeah you’re right Chester,” replied Charlie, taking the phone out of his pocket. He found the saved message and sent the voice mail to the police. But before he could SMS Mr Bentwhistle both boys were disturbed by the sound of heavy footsteps crunching the gravel outside. Charlie looked at Chester. They had to move. And quickly!
Almost immediately they heard jangling keys opening the white painted door and in walked Scar pushing Mr Bentwhistle in front of him. They had to move and move fast!
Eighteen
Charlie picked up Chuckles and hid behind a large central dripper system. He lay flat and squeezed Chuckles closely to him. Chester saw his opportunity. He held Fiffi tightly and slipped into the thickest stand of tomato plants. He hid easily amongst the masses of dark green bushes. Scar pushed Mr Bentwhistle roughly through the glasshouse door.
“ There’s your silly little dog old man,” spat Scar, as he kicked the door shut.
“ Where? Fiffi where are you?” Mr Bentwhistle called.
Scar turned, “ What do you mean where?” He stopped dead in his tracks. “What’s going on here? Dave!” he bellowed. “ Dave get in here at once!”
Scar began to look around the glasshouse, “ They’ve gone. Struth that’s impossible.”
“What’s up boss?” questioned Dave, as he entered the glasshouse, paint tin in hand. “ Hey boss the dogs are missing. See that boss. They were here only two hours ago when I gave them their shot of sleepy stuff.”
“ Geeze Dave! I know the dogs are missing. Where are they? Get looking will ya!”
Chuckles began to stir, “ Shush,” whispered Charlie and he held his hand up in the command gesture of stop and be still.
Fiffi woke up at the sound of her master’s voice. Chester was caught off guard. She jumped out of his arms and excitedly bounded over to Mr Bentwhistle.
“ Fiffi. Fiffi come here my little friend,” cried an overjoyed Mr Bentwhistle.
Scar saw Fiffi and called out to Dave,
“ Grab the poodle Dave, quickly! Where’s that greyhound!”
“ Sure thing boss,” shouted Dave, as he menacingly began to lurch towards Fiffi. “Come here little one.”
“ Stand back you fool,” delivered Mr Bentwhistle. “ I’ll have you know that I am a black belt S.A.S. trained soldier. I must warn you to give yourself up.”
He transferred Fiffi to the arm furthest away from Dave and formed a karate chop stance with the other.
Dave guffawed, “ Hey boss. He says he’s a black belt and we should give ourselves up.”
“ Yeah sure,” replied Scar, still searching for Chuckles. “ I don’t care if he says he’s Jacky Chan just grab him before the pooch gets away.”
Dave lunged forward but Mr Bentwhistle moved quickly. He grabbed Dave’s arm, pulled him forward and at the same time turned his body and twisted Dave’s arm until it was right up behind his back, without dropping Fiffi. Dave collapsed to the floor in pain.
“ Ouch! Aw. Let me go. Let go! You’re hurting me!”
“ I warned you young fella. Chester, Charlie you there?”
On hearing his name Chester jumped out from behind the tomato plants. He summed up the predicament quickly and grabbed rope and tape from his backpack.
“ Good thinking boy. Quickly before the other one gets here.”
Chester strapped Dave’s mouth with tape and began to tie his hands and feet.
Charlie was listening to all of the commotion, when all of a sudden his phone rang out, “ Brrng! Brrng!”
“ Oh no!” he called, reaching for the mobile. It was his mother! “ Mum can’t talk now. Come quickly. S and D tomato farm Vine Valley. See ya!”
Scar heard the phone from somewhere behind him. He turned and ran toward the sound.
“ Come out you little weasel. I know it’s you. Come out before we hurt your friend and the old guy,” he lied.
Charlie quickly decided what to do.
“ Go Chuckles!” he shouted, as loudly as possible.
“ What! Help! It’s the greyhound!” cried Scar, totally surprised by the whirl of teeth and fur.
Chuckles rushed Scar with Charlie in hot pursuit. Scar turned quickly and ran. He pushed a bag of chook manure over in front of
Chuckles, which was enough to halt its advance.
He sprinted for the door.
Mr Bentwhistle bravely stood in his way but Scar was travelling too fast and pushed him hopelessly into a bed of tomatoes. Chester was still tying Dave’s arms and he heard Dave mumble, “ Maar! Melp! Mlease!”
But Scar was not stopping to help anyone. He crashed through the door and headed into the maze of glasshouses. Chuckles and Charlie followed stopping between the first two glass enclosures.
“ He’s hiding in here Chuckles,” he whispered. He hand-signalled for Chuckles to go to the junction of four of the glasshouses, which were set out in a grid like a noughts and crosses game. He then quickly ran up along the glasshouses stopping at each corner. He carefully looked around to see if Scar was there. At the third corner he surprised Scar who was trying to hide by climbing into a large wooden bin.
“ Where do you think you’re going?” shouted Charlie bravely, hoping to shock Scar more than anything else. This he achieved. Scar stumbled and fell into a heap of fresh compost next to the box. He scrambled to his feet and ran between the glasshouses where he turned left at the first corner. What he didn’t realise though was that Chuckles was sitting quietly further along his path. Chuckles saw Scar and quickly charged at the crook.
“ Oh no, not the dog again!” shouted Scar. He turned and ran back toward Charlie who had pulled out a heap of shiny objects from his backpack. In the distance the distinctive sound of a wailing police car could be heard. This distracted Scar enough for Charlie to throw what he held in his hand at his feet without him noticing.
Marbles! ‘Well done Mr Bentwhistle,’ thought Charlie.
“Whoa!” called Scar, as he slid over the marbles like he was skating on ice. He stumbled and fell head first into a box of rotting tomatoes. He looked quite a sight with his feet protruding from the box as if they had no torso attached.
Before he could remove himself Chuckles was upon him. Chuckles clenched his jaws around Scar’s trouser leg and began to yank. Charlie raced up and held Scar’s head down into the box of rotten tomatoes until from the corner of his eye he spotted Mr Bentwhistle running towards him.
“ That’s the boy Charlie. Well done Chuckles! Got him!” he called, as he began to tie Scar’s hands behind his back with tape.