Free A Nose for Adventure by Richard Scrimger Page A

you. We wanted the wheelchair.”
    For a moment I think Frieda is going to cry.
    Veronica unwraps the bundle carefully, and peers inside. “Old Hawkface is here,” she says. “And in one piece. Earless will be happy to see him.”
    “He’s waiting in the gallery. You take it to him, Jones. He’ll want to clean it before showing it off.” Slouchy stares at us, even though he’s talking to Skinny. “Leave the truck someplace when you’re done. Ronnie, you wait in the car. I won’t be long.” Parked at the end of the alley is the blue car with the pink tassel on the aerial.
    “I’ll take it to Earless,” says Veronica, casually.
    “Better let Jones do it. It’s his gallery, after all.”
    I wonder who Hawkface is. And Earless. They sound like bad guys from a comic book.
    Slouchy pushes me towards Frieda’s fence. I sit down beside her. He slams the back doors of the truck. He doesn’t bother with the bolt lock this time.
    “What about Frieda’s chair?” I ask. “She can’t get around without it.”
    “She shouldn’t have slapped me,” he says, with a bully’s sneer.
    The car drives away. I notice an empty cigarette pack nearby. LUCKY , it says on the side. I don’t feel lucky.
    Slouchy comes over, and squats down beside us. A big strong mean man, with a cologne to match. “I’m goingnow,” he says. “But I want you two kids to listen very carefully to what I have to say.” His quiet conversational tone is scarier than yelling would be. “I want what happened here to be our little secret. Okay? If either of you ever –
ever
– tells anyone, I’m going to come and get you,” he says. “I will find you. I will hurt you. I will hurt your family. I will hurt your dog.”
    “The dog isn’t mine,” I say. The words pop out before I can stop them. I’m so relieved to hear he’s going that I can’t help myself. “I don’t have any pets. I used to have a turtle named Mr. Whiskers, but he crawled into the heating duct.”
    Slouchy doesn’t say anything. He stares at me. I shut up.
    “You never saw me,” he begins again. “You don’t know what I look like. You don’t know what happened to the wheelchair. Is that a deal?”
    “Sure,” I say. Frieda nods.
    “Are you going to talk to the police?”
    “No,” I whisper. Frieda shakes her head.
    “Promise?”
    “Promise.”
    “Good. I want you two to close your eyes now, and count to a thousand. Don’t open your eyes until you reach a thousand. I’ll be listening for you. Do you understand?”
    I nod. My eyes are closed. “One, two three four,” I say.
    “Don’t start yet,” he says.
    “Sorry,” I say.
    I hear him move away. “Start … now,” he says.
    “One, two, three, four,” I say. Frieda is shivering against me. If she’s counting, she’s doing it awfully quietly.
    “Louder!” he calls, from farther away.
    “Five six seven eight,” I say. “Nine ten eleven twelve.
    “I’m on seven hundred and thirty-eight when I hear panting next to my ear.
    –
Ready or not, here I come!
says Norbert.

I open my eyes slowly, one at a time. The car with the pink tassel on the aerial is gone. Apart from trash, and us, the alley is empty.
    Sally is licking Frieda’s face. Frieda has her arms around the dog’s neck.
    “You found us!” I say. “Hey, great!” I pat the dog on the back. “Way to go, Sally!” I say. “Good tracking.”
    – I
helped
. Norbert sounds petulant.
    “Good for you too,” I tell him. “Did you guys have a tough time finding us?”
    –
Yes
. Norbert doesn’t elaborate.
Say, Frieda, where’s your chair?
    “We can’t go yet. We’re supposed to count to a thousand,” I say.
    –
That’s some serious game of hide-and-seek
, says Norbert. Is it safe? Are they gone? I stand up, cramped from all my time on the ground. Away down at the end of the alley,traffic is passing. A car backfiring sounds like a gunshot. Frieda screams. I drop to the ground and close my eyes.
    “Seven hundred and