it out.
Chapter 9
Tamworth Street, Teasdale: Monday afternoon
‘Can you come over?’ Hannah said when Angus had finished telling her the whole story on the phone. ‘Gabby and Ling have invited themselves around.’
‘You might as well ring E.D. too,’ Angus suggested.
‘You can do that.’
He wrapped his hand up in a bit of bandage, brushed King down and resaddled him, and rode to Hannah’s. His father wasn’t home and Angus felt too nervous to leave King alone. In a way, he was glad his dad hadn’t been there when he’d returned: it had given him a chance to settle both himself and his horse down. And he was worried that Tom Bentley might have called about the broken window.
The others were already at Hannah’s when he got there. Sean pounced on King, leading him around the back to graze on the lawn. King didn’t seem to mind the small boy handling him. Sean was in seventh heaven.
Ling took one look at Angus’s hand and asked Hannah for a first-aid kit.
‘So I guess I’d be an idiot for suggesting that maybe now it’s time you went to the police,’ Gabby said, watching Ling expertly bandage the wound.
‘What do I say?’ Angus began, looking up from the white gauze wrapped around his palm. ‘They’ve got a lab, they locked me up for breaking in, I thought they were going to hurt King and they chased me on a motorbike…to return my helmet.’
Gabby shrugged.
‘They’re up to something, though. They must be.’
‘They can’t lock you up like that. I say we go up there and stir ’em up a bit.’ E.D. moved to the window and glared out. Seeing the deep cut on Angus’s hand had made him angry.
Angus could see that E.D. wished he’d been there to help him out. He stood up, gentlyfingering his bandaged hand. Ling shut the first-aid box with a snap.
‘Give it to us again, Angus,’ E.D. said, turning around. ‘From the beginning.’
‘Right. Well, it all goes back to that suspicious bit of behaviour going on at the track yesterday when we found the phone. I’ve been thinking about it. I reckon they—’
‘Who?’ Ling interjected.
‘Um, the new people up at McCann’s.’
‘You reckon they were the ones at the track?’ Hannah frowned.
‘Yes. And there’s definitely something going on. There are scientist-type people and a laboratory. Hannah, it was your mum’s friend Natasha Miller that got me thinking. All that talk about making dead things come alive. That’s what I reckon they’re up to.’
‘What do you mean?’ Hannah asked.
‘Well, I reckon they’re doing something to the horses—like Lightning Strikes. It’s a really professional set-up.’
‘But Lightning Strikes wasn’t any good,’ Gabby said. ‘He didn’t win the race yesterday.’
‘I reckon Lightning Strikes is very good. I reckon the jockey was holding him back. I was watching him through Hannah’s glasses.’
‘Are you sure?’ E.D. interrupted.
‘It was expertly done. But I just happened to be watching him closely right at that moment round the back bend.’
‘Have we got proof?’ Ling asked.
‘Only what I’ve seen,’ said Angus, frowning. He suddenly struck his forehead with his hand, making Ling jump. ‘I am such an idiot! Lightning Strikes was that horse I had trouble with on the track. There were ten riders surrounding him, making my horse nervous. I’m sure I saw that he had two white socks. Then he turns up on race day and I see him getting his legs painted black. Then he’s held back. And with white socks, Lightning Strikes is the same horse that we saw on the internet site!’
‘But that horse was called Gale Force,’ Ling said.
‘That’s my point. Lightning Strikes is Gale Force! He’s the same! There’s no history of his parentage—his pedigree is probably faked.’
‘Are you saying,’ said Hannah slowly, ‘that Lightning Strikes is a clone?’
There was a silence as Angus stared at her. Then he nodded. ‘When I’m down at the track tomorrow with Dad,
Chapter 9
Tamworth Street, Teasdale: Monday afternoon
‘Can you come over?’ Hannah said when Angus had finished telling her the whole story on the phone. ‘Gabby and Ling have invited themselves around.’
‘You might as well ring E.D. too,’ Angus suggested.
‘You can do that.’
He wrapped his hand up in a bit of bandage, brushed King down and resaddled him, and rode to Hannah’s. His father wasn’t home and Angus felt too nervous to leave King alone. In a way, he was glad his dad hadn’t been there when he’d returned: it had given him a chance to settle both himself and his horse down. And he was worried that Tom Bentley might have called about the broken window.
The others were already at Hannah’s when he got there. Sean pounced on King, leading him around the back to graze on the lawn. King didn’t seem to mind the small boy handling him. Sean was in seventh heaven.
Ling took one look at Angus’s hand and asked Hannah for a first-aid kit.
‘So I guess I’d be an idiot for suggesting that maybe now it’s time you went to the police,’ Gabby said, watching Ling expertly bandage the wound.
‘What do I say?’ Angus began, looking up from the white gauze wrapped around his palm. ‘They’ve got a lab, they locked me up for breaking in, I thought they were going to hurt King and they chased me on a motorbike…to return my helmet.’
Gabby shrugged.
‘They’re up to something, though. They must be.’
‘They can’t lock you up like that. I say we go up there and stir ’em up a bit.’ E.D. moved to the window and glared out. Seeing the deep cut on Angus’s hand had made him angry.
Angus could see that E.D. wished he’d been there to help him out. He stood up, gentlyfingering his bandaged hand. Ling shut the first-aid box with a snap.
‘Give it to us again, Angus,’ E.D. said, turning around. ‘From the beginning.’
‘Right. Well, it all goes back to that suspicious bit of behaviour going on at the track yesterday when we found the phone. I’ve been thinking about it. I reckon they—’
‘Who?’ Ling interjected.
‘Um, the new people up at McCann’s.’
‘You reckon they were the ones at the track?’ Hannah frowned.
‘Yes. And there’s definitely something going on. There are scientist-type people and a laboratory. Hannah, it was your mum’s friend Natasha Miller that got me thinking. All that talk about making dead things come alive. That’s what I reckon they’re up to.’
‘What do you mean?’ Hannah asked.
‘Well, I reckon they’re doing something to the horses—like Lightning Strikes. It’s a really professional set-up.’
‘But Lightning Strikes wasn’t any good,’ Gabby said. ‘He didn’t win the race yesterday.’
‘I reckon Lightning Strikes is very good. I reckon the jockey was holding him back. I was watching him through Hannah’s glasses.’
‘Are you sure?’ E.D. interrupted.
‘It was expertly done. But I just happened to be watching him closely right at that moment round the back bend.’
‘Have we got proof?’ Ling asked.
‘Only what I’ve seen,’ said Angus, frowning. He suddenly struck his forehead with his hand, making Ling jump. ‘I am such an idiot! Lightning Strikes was that horse I had trouble with on the track. There were ten riders surrounding him, making my horse nervous. I’m sure I saw that he had two white socks. Then he turns up on race day and I see him getting his legs painted black. Then he’s held back. And with white socks, Lightning Strikes is the same horse that we saw on the internet site!’
‘But that horse was called Gale Force,’ Ling said.
‘That’s my point. Lightning Strikes is Gale Force! He’s the same! There’s no history of his parentage—his pedigree is probably faked.’
‘Are you saying,’ said Hannah slowly, ‘that Lightning Strikes is a clone?’
There was a silence as Angus stared at her. Then he nodded. ‘When I’m down at the track tomorrow with Dad,
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