Czytaj książkę: «Secrets on the Shore (Taylor and Rose mini adventure)»

‘I think we’re almost there!’ announced Lil, pushing down the train window.

A whoosh of cold, damp air swept into the compartment, making Sophie shiver. She pulled her coat more closely around her as she peered out of the window at the dim landscape beyond.

It was six o’clock, and already growing dark. Here and there, Sophie could see the warm light of a farmhouse window glowing in the distance – but mostly there was nothing except wide, empty sky, and a flat expanse of grey salt marsh. The bright lights and cheerful, glittering shop windows of London already seemed a long way away.

‘It looks rather like the end of the world, doesn’t it?’ said Lil, leaning out of the window a little further. ‘What a queer sort of place to take a holiday!’

Not that this was really a holiday, of course. This trip was strictly business: an important new case for Taylor & Rose Detectives.

‘I must say, when that “C” fellow said he was sending us away on an assignment, I never thought it would be somewhere like this,’ Lil went on.

‘Sshhh!’ Sophie warned her – but Lil only grinned and gestured around at the deserted train compartment.

‘Don’t fuss,’ she said. ‘It’s not as if there’s anyone to hear us!’

‘Maybe not this time,’ said Sophie, with emphasis. ‘But you never know, with trains.’

She knew Lil would understand what she meant. After all, last winter they’d been on a train like this one, heading out of London into the countryside. On that journey, the little old lady snoozing in their compartment had turned out to be an American detective, Miss Ada Pickering, who was listening to every word of their conversation. Since then, Sophie and Lil had learned a great deal from Miss Pickering, who had taught them all kinds of detective strategies and skills.

‘You’re right,’ Lil agreed now, as the train jolted to an unsteady halt. ‘Miss P would absolutely not approve of me yelling about our secret schemes. But I can’t help it! This assignment is just so thrilling!’

Sophie nodded as she opened the door and hopped down on to the empty station platform. It was true that the start of any new case always gave her a very particular feeling of excitement – but this one was especially intriguing. For one thing, it was taking them away from the familiar London streets they knew so well to the wilds of the Sussex coast. For another, it would be quite different to anything they’d done before.

This would not be in the least like tracking down missing jewels or stolen paintings – nor even like trying to untangle the schemes of their old enemy, the mysterious crime lord once known as ‘the Baron’. Working for the British government would be something entirely new.

It had been their friend Mr McDermott who had introduced them to the man they knew only as ‘C’. They’d gone to a building at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and into an office marked CLARKE & SONS SHIPPING AGENTS. But in fact, ‘C’ was not a shipping agent at all; instead, he was the head of a new and strictly confidential government department – the Secret Service Bureau.

The Bureau was dedicated to what ‘C’ called ‘intelligence and counter-espionage’ but what Sophie and Lil thought of simply as spying. Very few people even knew the department existed, and they felt proud to be part of that small circle. Now, Lil flashed Sophie a quick, bright smile, and Sophie knew that she too was full of excitement that here they were – on official business for the British government.

‘Thank you for coming to see me,’ C had said at that first meeting, leaning back in the big leather chair behind a desk cluttered with papers. ‘I have several detectives working for me at present. Mr McDermott here is one of them. From what I hear from him and my colleague Inspector Worth at Scotland Yard, I think that two young ladies with your talents could be a great help to me. I have a little job in mind that I think would suit you down to the ground. Shall we call it a trial run?’

Sophie had known straight away that she wanted the assignment. Running their own detective agency was marvellous, of course, but working for the government would really be something. It would be a chance to do something that truly mattered – like last winter, when they’d stopped the Baron’s terrible plot on Piccadilly Circus. What was more, she’d felt at once that she wanted to prove herself to C, who looked just like any kindly older gentleman with his gold watch chain and pleasant smile, but whose eyes glittered behind his spectacles with a sharp intelligence. In spite of his courteous manner, she had felt he was weighing them up – and she did not want to be found wanting.

He had explained the assignment to them quickly and clearly. His agents were currently investigating a network of German spies that was being established in Britain. The spies were gathering information about everything from railways and mines to the most confidential plans of the Army and Navy, to send back to their spymaster in Berlin: a man named Ziegler. This information would be extremely valuable to the German government in the event of war breaking out between Britain and Germany.

‘Of course, actually getting the information back to Berlin is difficult for them,’ C had explained. ‘We can intercept the spies’ letters or telegrams and catch them out. So, they’ve come up with more imaginative ways of communicating with Ziegler. My sources inform me that they are sending messages back and forth by boat, making use of quiet parts of the coast, where they will go unnoticed by the authorities. This is one such area.’

He’d unfolded a map and tapped a small stretch of coastline with the end of his pencil. It would be Sophie and Lil’s task to investigate this stretch of coast, and to find out as much as they could about the spies’ system.

‘They won’t be using the harbour, of course,’ C had observed, drumming his pencil against the map. ‘They’ll be slipping in and out of a remote, deserted spot where no one will notice them. We believe they are likely using a dead letter box: a hidden place where messages can be left and collected later by their accomplices.’

‘Find the dead letter box if possible,’ he went on. ‘Gather as much information about their system as you can: locations, times, details.’

He paused for a moment, and then tapped his pencil again against the margin of the map. There was a note written there in green ink, reading: ‘DELIVERY – CODE NAME “DER FALKE”?’

‘Most of all, I should like to know about this,’ he said. ‘My informants tell me an important delivery is expected from Berlin very soon. It has a code name: der Falke, or in English, the falcon. What it is, we cannot be sure. It may be a message from Ziegler, or a delivery of supplies of some kind. It may even be a German code book. Find out what it is if you possibly can.

‘But whatever you do, don’t give yourselves away,’ he instructed finally. ‘If Ziegler’s agents guess that we’re on to them, they will likely change their system, and all the hard work we have done to get this far will go to waste.’

After he’d finished giving his instructions, they’d left the office. A young man typing at a desk near the door had looked up and smirked at them, as if he thought their presence was rather ridiculous, but Sophie and Lil had been too excited to pay him any attention.

Back at the office of Taylor & Rose Detectives, they couldn’t wait to tell the news to the rest of their team.

‘Investigating German spies!’ Billy had exclaimed in amazement. ‘Not really?’

‘Isn’t it a thrill?’ Lil had said, brandishing one of the jammy buns they had bought by way of a celebration. ‘Whoever would have thought that we would be working for the government?’

It was certainly exciting, but Sophie had experienced the first stirrings of nervousness. ‘It’s not a bit like anything we’ve done before. I hope we’re up to the task!’

‘Of course you are,’ Mei had said, loyally.

Joe had nodded, grinning at Sophie and then over at Lil, who in her excitement had not noticed she had a smear of jam on the end of her nose. ‘After everything else the two of you have done, I reckon you’re capable of just about anything.’

Now, only a few weeks later, they were standing on the darkened station platform in Rye with their suitcases, breathing in the damp, smoky, salt-scented air.

It was Lil’s turn to shiver. ‘It’s rather creepy, isn’t it?’ she said, glancing around the deserted station, lit by a single flickering gas-lamp. ‘Let’s hurry.’ She slung a leather case containing field glasses over her shoulder and adjusted her hat. ‘Ugh – I wish I’d left this hat on the train,’ she muttered. ‘I’m all for disguises, of course, but I don’t care at all for these ghastly tweeds.’

It was true that they looked most unlike their usual selves. They were travelling as two young ladies who were enthusiastic birdwatchers. This disguise had been C’s idea, and Sophie knew it was a good one. After all, it would make it quite easy for them to trek about the coast with notebooks and field glasses without raising any eyebrows. They’d dressed for the part in walking outfits from the Sporting Goods department at Sinclair’s: tweed skirts with matching belted jackets, plain felt hats, stout shoes and thick, rather itchy woollen stockings. But they were not very attractive, and certainly not the kind of clothes that Lil – who adored dressing stylishly – would ever have chosen for herself.

Just the same, Sophie felt grateful for the warmth of her sensible outfit as they made their way out of the station, and along a narrow street that led steeply upwards. It was growing cold, and their breath puffed out in little clouds as they zigzagged up the hill.

Sophie had read a little about Rye before they’d set out, so she already knew it was an ancient town. Once, it had been an important port and naval base: one of the ‘Cinque Ports’ that in the Middle Ages had formed the sea defences of Britain. Now, it was a sleepy country town a mile or two from the coast, but the twisting cobbled streets and crooked red-roofed buildings still felt old and mysterious. Another time she’d want to stop and look at them, but Lil was right: there was something creepy about this dark winter evening, with the cold rain beginning to fall. She found herself walking a little faster, her feet slipping on the worn old cobblestones.

‘Look, there it is!’ exclaimed Lil, squinting through the rain at an old black-and-white inn close to the top of the hill. ‘The Smuggler’s Rest!’

The door was small and low: Lil had to duck her head to get inside, and Sophie followed her, keen to get out of the chill. She had the immediate impression of being somewhere cosy, snug and very old indeed. The sloping ceilings were striped with heavy black beams and brass lamps gave out a warm, yellow glow. She breathed in the scent of a wood fire, as an elderly porter appeared as if out of nowhere to show them the way up a steep, uneven staircase to the room they had engaged for the next two weeks.

‘This way, young misses,’ he instructed, showing them into a comfortable room with two enormous wooden beds and a pair of cosy armchairs placed side-by-side under a diamond-paned window. Sophie looked out, guessing that on a clear day there would be a magnificent view over the marshes to the sea – but for now she could see nothing but rain and the dark.

Lil had already shed her coat and hat and was eagerly examining a large carved wooden chest that stood in the corner. ‘Don’t you think this looks exactly like the sort of thing that might have a dead body in it?’

The old porter’s eyes gleamed. ‘And maybe it did have once upon a time,’ he declared in an ominous voice. ‘The old Smuggler’s Rest has a dark history, right enough.’

‘Oh, I say. Does it really?’ asked Lil.

‘That it does. If these walls could talk, a nice young lady like yourself mightn’t want to hear the tales they could tell.’ He lowered his voice, warming to his tale. ‘There’s been a sight of trouble here over the centuries. That’s why they say the ghosts and ghouls still haunt it. Oh, you may smile, but there’s plenty of folks that have seen queer things here in the dead of night. Some say there’s an old woman who appears at the foot of the bed at midnight; or others that you can hear a little child’s footsteps, running up and down the hall; and yet others who say you may hear the clash of the old smugglers’ swords on nights when the moon is full . . .’

At that moment the landlady bustled in, bringing a stack of blankets. ‘Fred, don’t you go frightening these young ladies with your tall tales,’ she scolded, after introducing herself as Mrs Riggs. ‘You’ll be giving them nightmares.’

Sophie and Lil exchanged a quick smile. They knew it would take more than a few spooky stories to give them nightmares. After all, this wasn’t the first time they’d encountered a supposedly haunted house. Only a year ago they’d been investigating rumours of a haunting at grand Winter Hall, which had turned out to be no ghost at all, but an all-too-real villain. Just the same, Sophie remembered that they weren’t intrepid young detectives here, and so exclaimed, ‘Goodness, how terrifying!’ while Lil contributed a theatrical shiver.

‘Now, don’t you worry,’ said Mrs Riggs in a voice that rang with common sense. ‘I’ve been here for going on fifteen years, and I can tell you I’ve never seen hide nor hair of any ghost.’

‘Well, I hope we won’t either,’ said Lil, with a convincingly nervous giggle. ‘Actually, what we’re really hoping to see is a lot of birds. We’ve heard this is a terrific spot for them.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Mrs Riggs at once. ‘We have lots of birdwatching ladies and gentlemen staying here, don’t we Fred? There are plenty of rare birds out on the marshes, though I’m afraid you’ll have poor weather for it at this time of the year. Now, here’s some blankets. It can be chilly at night in an old place like this, but we’ll see you stay nice and snug.’

‘It’s a wonderful old inn,’ said Sophie.

‘It must have a terrifically interesting history,’ Lil chimed in. ‘Smugglers and so forth.’

The landlady nodded and smiled, evidently proud of this. ‘It does indeed. There’s been an inn on this site since Norman times, and two hundred years ago this place was the headquarters for one of the most notorious gangs of smugglers ever known on England’s shores. They used it as their meeting place, and even built secret passages so they could go about their business without being caught.’

‘Secret passages?’ asked Lil at once. ‘How thrilling!’

‘Oh yes. There’s one that goes up to a hidden room under the roof. You’ll like to see it, I daresay? I’ll get my lad Alfie to show it to you. It’s too dark and cramped for me.’

‘What did they use the hidden room for? Storing the smuggled cargo, I suppose?’

‘That’s right. Brandy and lace and tobacco, and all kinds of other contraband they brought over from France. They say that this part of the coast was one of the very best places for smuggling. It’s that wild and remote that the smugglers could come creeping up in their little boats without the authorities ever knowing what they were up to.’ Mrs Riggs beamed at them. ‘Now, do you have everything you need? There’s tea downstairs in the parlour with my homemade scones and fruitcake. Or I can send up a tray for you if you’d rather have it here?’

But for once, neither Sophie or Lil were thinking about tea. Mrs Riggs’s words had caught Sophie’s imagination – and she could see from Lil’s bright excited eyes that she was thinking the same thing. It’s that wild and remote that the smugglers could come creeping up secretly in their little boat without the authorities ever knowing what they were up to . . .

It was exactly what the Secret Service Bureau had sent them here to investigate. Except now it was no longer the old smugglers with their brandy and lace who were sneaking along the coast unseen. Now it was someone else creeping stealthily along the shore, under cover of darkness: German spies, carrying a cargo of secrets.