Quentin James and the Battle of Edgewater

 

THE CODED MESSAGE

(Can you break it?)

G 18 19

1605

1666

62  11  12 9 2 11 14 31   1 14 3 69 6 2 3

8 9 17 3 17   20 2 6 28 2 6’ 31  22 2 20 48 11 6

138 2 4 6 12 4 6 111   14 12   12 9 17   31 5 4 17 31

20 4 5 17   14   12 14 20 20   133 48 20 20 69   20 4 1 12 31

12 9 17   9 17 14 28

12 9 3 17 17   2 6 17   2 6 17

12 9 17   22 14 48 31 17 8 14 69   1 3 2 11   12 9 17

31 12 14 4 3 31   9 14 31   11 48 22 9   28 17 22 14 69

14 6 28   3 2

138 17 12 4 12 4 2 6 17 3 31   22 14 6 6 2 12

20 14 6 28   14 6 69   1 14 3 17

12 9 17   48 6 28 17 3 22 3 2 1 12   2 1   12 3 17 14 31 26

14 6 28   138 20 2 12   4 31   31 12 4 20 20   12 9 17 3 17

Quentin James and the Arctic Adventure

Bluey took her foot off the break and slammed it on the accelerator and the car leant into the corner and shot out onto the straight road, picking up speed again.

Explosions erupted to the right and left of the car, the gravel and dirt pattering across the roof and bonnet.

‘Woo hoo!’ cried Bluey, ‘Fantastic! Explosions and helicopters, you went all out Unwin.’

Unwin looked back between Clive and Quentin strapped in on the back seat to see a helicopter weaving back and forth behind them, trying to line up to shoot again.

‘That’s not one of ours,’ Unwin said, ‘Drive!’

Bluey pressed the pedal to the floor again, and the car leapt forward. Just in time as twin explosions threw up fire and dirt behind them.

‘Is this a company car?’ yelled Clive.

‘Not the time Clive,’ yelled back Unwin.

Bluey spun the car around the bend and into some trees.

One tree exploded into splinters.

‘Well that’s not very green friendly,’ Bluey said, her eyes glued to the road ahead as it rushed at her.

‘Press the centre panel on the radio,’ Clive called out, ‘trust me.’

Unwin glanced back and then pressed the panel as Clive had asked.

The panel whirled and spun and came away in his hand.

‘Give it to me,’ Clive screamed above the sound of helicopter that was right above them.

Unwin flipped it backwards and Clive caught it deftly.

They all ducked as the sound of gunfire burst into life.

Holding it like a games controller Clive pressed buttons.

‘Get ahead of the helio, about ten metres,’ he instructed Bluey

Bluey was swerving right and left to avoid the gunfire and on hearing Clive’s command, spun the car to the left, taking another path through the trees, momentarily leaving the helicopter behind.

Clive focused on the image of the helicopter weaving across a tiny screen in the controller, waiting for it to line up.

As Bluey powered the car forward, Clive waited for the green light and with a cry of ‘YES.’ he pressed a button. There was a sudden whoosh and seconds later the helicopter disintegrated in a huge explosion, a secondary explosion ripped the last sections apart and it fell to the ground as a pile of scrap metal.

‘Woo who!’ screamed Bluey, fuelling her cry with the fear and adrenaline that raced through her veins.

The car shot out of the woods and tore along the dirt path, Bluey sliding the car onto the road putting her foot hard down on the accelerator. The car shot off as the tires bit into the tarmac pushing it even faster.

‘OK Bluey, you can slow down now,’ said Unwin.

‘Not unless those blokes in the car behind are friendlies,’ Bluey said glancing in the rear view mirror.

Unwin looked behind and frowned, ‘Clive?’

‘Hang on; let’s see what we’ve got.’

Clive tapped the button on the left of the controller scrolling through the options.

Cyber Sleuths

‘We have to get to the ant hill before they all come out,’ yelled Becky.

Colin and Pete nodded and raised their guns.

Colin was the first to fire. He pulled the trigger in a long burst. The first dozen tore apart an ant, bits and pieces of its shell, the legs and finally his head flying off as the bullets ripped through him but the rest went harmlessly into the air.

‘Short bursts, remember, three rounds at a time,’ ordered Becky.

Pete pulled his trigger and fired a short burst of three rounds, each thumping into an onrushing ant. Two tore chunks off its hard shell; the third buried itself right between its eyes.

It crashed down, head first and lay still.

‘There’s more coming, we have to move,’ called Becky as she surged ahead firing all the time.

Pete saw a group of ants over to her right moving at incredible speed.

The ants were almost on top of Becky before she realised the danger and fell onto her back firing up at the first ant that loomed large in her vision. She saw her bullets trace a line along its body and it ripped apart, innards splashing down all over her.

The other ants jabbed at her with their heads and she could see their pincers snapping at her.

Colin and Pete jumped into the middle firing wildly. Those that weren’t killed outright were pushed back under the hail of bullets.

Colin pulled Becky to her feet, and they formed a circle, firing short controlled bursts, very aware of how little ammo they had left.

Quentin James and the Global War Games

 

 

Whether feminine intuition or simply luck; Esme couldn’t say, but she called a halt and motioned for everyone to take cover.

‘Let’s take a minute or two to get our bearings and agree on the plan in case I’m hit.’

It was a good idea and her team melted into the jungle, forming a rough circle so they had all approaches covered.

‘Contact,’ they all heard whispered over their headgear.

‘Where?’ hissed Esme, annoyed she had to ask.

‘Sorry Leader, Scorpion 2 here, I am at your one o’clock.’

Esme looked forward and slightly right and would not have seen Norman had he not told her where he was. His cover was impressive.

‘Ok everyone, get nice and small and let them pass.’

Hearts beating fast her team curled up small and hid, trying to hold their breaths, even though their helmets would mask their breathing. Hands curled around their guns, fingers hovered over their triggers, palms slick with sweat.

Esme tensed as she saw glints of gold and red moments before the figures of the Dragon soldiers materialised out of the greenery.

 

 

Quentin James and the Jacobite Gold

Tiptoeing down the stairs he felt his usual excitement at being out at night. There was something special about night time; it was so quiet, so still, he had tingles along his skin, the hairs on his arms standing up. He loved that feeling.

When he walked into the lounge he stopped in surprise. Unwin was there. As he looked closer he could see it was not Unwin, but someone who looked a lot like him, much more like him than the portrait hanging in the great hall. He also noted, though without any shock or fear, that he could see the fireplace right through him.

‘Hello.’

The spectre turned around.

‘Hello my boy, you’re the one called Quentin, am I right?’

‘Yes Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’ 

Quentin stuck his hand out to shake and the ghost naturally took it and shook it.

This surprised Quentin, not that he had shaken his hand but it was dry and firm. For some reason he had expected it to be wet and soft, like mist.

‘I,’ said the ghost ‘am Cluny.’

‘Yes sir. Do you mind if I put my presents under the tree?  I don’t want to disturb you.’

‘Not at all my boy, please go ahead. I must say you are very polite, I would have thought you would have gone running and screaming when you saw me, are you not afraid?’

Quentin tilted his head onto his shoulder and thought about that.

‘No Sir.’ 

He placed his presents under the tree.

The ghost of Cluny was a little taken aback. He had sent grown men running from the house before and here was this mere boy, seemingly unfazed, that he stood there. Well more floated he thought and rose a little higher.

‘Why are you not afraid?’ asked Cluny, ‘Weren’t you afraid of the crashing door and the jiggling head?’

‘A little,’ he admitted, ‘but I think you were testing us, to see if we were of brave heart.’

Quentin looked at the ghost.

‘You’re not that scary you know,’ he said, ‘should I be scared of you?’

Cluny considered the question finding it most odd to be having a conversation with a young boy.

 ‘Well no, I suppose not,’ he conceded, ‘what about all those moans and groans and rattling chains last night?’

Quentin smiled.

‘That was not you.’

‘So sure are you?’ challenged the ghost

Quentin nodded.

‘Yes you’re a real ghost; that other stuff was just to scare as off. Whoever that was, is looking for the gold.’

‘Gold you say; gold?’ the Ghost’s features took on a guarded look, ‘and what makes you think there is gold around here?’

Quentin James and the Loch of Arthur

This was the best feeling on the world, thought Quentin as they paddled across the Loch in canoes. They were two to a canoe and Quentin and Clive were sharing. They had taken off at pace only to go in a circle. It took a while for them to get sorted with Unwin and Ryan showing everyone how to propel the canoe through the water. Now they were moving together down the Loch, enjoying the speed as they cut through the water with a hiss. The weather was the best; deep blue skies, the sun already rising, promising another scorching hot day and they were off exploring, it was so exciting.

As they paddled, Ryan pointed out the local wildlife they could see along the shore but the surprise was when they spied battlements along the rock face.

‘Look,’ cried Clive, ‘a castle in the cliff.’

Ryan brought his canoe around expertly and told them about the ruins.

‘This is the Castle on the Loch; it has no other name I know of. Impossible to get to except by repelling down from the top.......’ 

All the kids looked at Unwin excitedly.

‘Forget it! NO ONE is climbing down the rock face to the castle. AM I CLEAR?’ he called, in his loud, stern, no nonsense, you have been warned, voice.

‘Yes sir,’ all the kids said looking glum.

‘It is said the only other way in, is through secret passageways and tunnels,’ Ryan continued.

The kids smiled and look at each other secretly.

‘Unwin didn’t say we couldn’t explore the castle, only not to climb down the rock face. All we have to do is find the tunnels,’ Clive whispered to Quentin.

Quentin James and the Undercover Agent

Without wasting a second, Bluey jumped over the low brick wall and ran along the ridge of the roof, heedless of the ground being a very long way down.

Quentin didn’t stop to think either and went after her.

Bluey, with her natural perfect balance, raced along the roof, clambering over low walls and jumping the gaps. The red eyes had disappeared almost immediately, but she hoped she’d catch him up here.

Suddenly she heard a cry behind her and almost skidded off the roof as she tried to stop her herself too quickly.

‘Quentin!’ she cried. Racing back the way she had come.

She ran right past the point where Quentin hung from his fingertips, the ground seemingly trying to drag him to his death, waiting for his body to smack into it with a bloody splat!

‘Here.’ she heard him cry, the fear and desperation in his voice making her tummy flip.

She turned around and slowly made her way back along the spine of the roof tops looking down either side to see if she could see him, fearing she wouldn’t be in time.

‘Please help.’

His cries cut her, and she sobbed, she couldn’t find him.

‘Where are you, I cannot see you?’

Again Quentin cried, ‘Here.’

Out of the corner of her eye Bluey saw his hand waving.

Oh thank god.

‘Hold on, I’m coming.’

She raced along the roof until she was standing opposite where he had slipped down. She didn’t know what to do, how could she get to him?

Laying down she tried to stretch out her arm, but it was just too short. Another sob escaped.

The roof was so tiny. She thought about sliding down herself but knew that would only end up with both of them plunging to their deaths. She lowered her body down, holding on to the ridge.

‘Grab my boots,’ she cried.

She felt his hand on her boot.

‘Yes! Climb up me, I can hold you.’

She felt his weight pull on her arms, the strain immediately taking its toll.

Wow, he is heavier than I thought. She felt her hands slip.

‘Quick! My hands are slipping.’

She felt Quentin struggling below and then to her horror she felt her boots suddenly move an inch.

‘My boots, they’re coming off,’ she cried.

She could feel his efforts to heave his body up and her boots slid another two inches off her feet.

‘Quentin, hold on, this is not going to work,’ she yelled, ‘quick!’

She felt her boots slide off her feet and a moment or two later heard them smack onto the courtyard below.

SPY NEWS 10th November 2016