Faster Than Lightning (3 page)

‘So, it hasn’t got dual-fuel or turbo-injection or prime unleaded capacity?’ E.D. leaned forward from the back seat so his head was wedged between Mr MacDonald and Angus.

‘There isn’t even a limited slipped-diff in this car.’ Mr MacDonald shook his head sadly.

‘Whoa,’ said E.D., shaking his head as well, nearly making his sunglasses fall off. ‘That is
bad.’

Angus glanced over at his father. He was sure that nothing E.D. had said would make any sense to his dad. Mr MacDonald was grinning to himself. Angus looked out the window and smiled as well. Slipped-diff? Yeah, right.

They’d been driving for about ten minutes before Franky McCann’s old farm came into view.
White fences stretched along the paddocks as far as Angus could see. The farm certainly looked different from when the old man had owned it. Now it was a top-rate thoroughbred stud instead of a run-down sheep farm. Horses dotted the green grass, great gangs of them that lifted their heads up as Mr Mac’s ute turned into the long driveway that led to the homestead. Some of the younger ones cantered up to the fence.

‘Which lot are you looking at, Dad?’

‘They’ve got a few two year olds from different sires. I’ll have a look at them all. We might be able to get one if they’re reasonably priced.’

They pulled up in an area to the side of the house and got out of the car. Angus and E.D. walked behind Mr Mac: Angus trying to look around the corner to where the stables could just be seen and E.D. humming some sort of tune. He kept humming even when Mr Mac had rung the front doorbell and they were waiting for someone to come out. Angus elbowed his mate in the ribs to shut him up.

A man opened the door. ‘Colin MacDonald? I’m Tom Bentley.’

Mr Mac shook the man’s hand. ‘This is my son, Angus, and his friend, Emilio.’

‘That’d be E.D., Mr Mac’.

Tom Bentley looked at Angus. ‘You’re down at the track a bit, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ Angus said, slightly distracted. It had suddenly dawned on him that he was standing in front of the man who bred Lightning Strikes.

‘Well, come in.’ Tom stepped back to let them into the house.

Closed doors hid the rooms along the corridor and paintings of stallions hung on the newly painted walls. Franky wouldn’t know where to find his beer fridge now, thought Angus. It was hard to believe that anyone had ever lived there, let alone someone like Franky. Angus strained to see through the glasspanelled back door. Franky had kept a huge python in a cage just out the back. Angus remembered staring in rapture at the fat-bellied snake, but though Franky assured him that the python was alive and well in all the times that he visited with his dad, he never once saw it move.

‘You just never come at feeding time,’ Franky would chuckle. ‘Now did you bring me your pet mice?’ he’d add, grinning wickedly.

The door had a blind over it now. Only Superman could’ve seen through it.

The boys followed Mr Mac and Tom into a room at the end of the corridor.

‘Awesome,’ said E.D., staring at the back wall. It was completely covered with photographs of horses.

Angus didn’t say anything. He’d been to plenty of stud farms before, because his dad was always looking for a bargain horse—something out of the ordinary with racing potential that a normal trainer wouldn’t have noticed. Most of the places they visited had fantastic stables and paddocks and training yards but run-down office areas, where the caretaker often slept in the kitchen or the laundry to save space. This place was like nothing he’d ever seen. His dad wasn’t going to get a bargain here.

A huge desk with open books of pedigrees took up most of the space in the room. Mr Mac and the man started leafing through the books, leaving the boys to study the wall of photographs.

Angus looked carefully at each picture. Some of them were photos of race finishes—shining horses stretched out for the finish line. Some were pictures of stallions at stud, standing proudly on lush green grass. There were some of foals racing beside their mothers.

‘Oh yeah, check those out.’ E.D. was standing at the window so close to the glass it was fogging up.

‘What is it?’ Angus came over and pushed his friend back. He found himself looking out over a large set of stables open at both ends, with small yards on either side. Inside the stables, he could just see two rows of heads as horses looked over their gates to watch what was going on. ‘I’d like to go in there.’

‘Where?’

‘Take off your sunglasses, E.D. Where else? The stables.’

‘I wasn’t looking at them. I was looking at
those.’
E.D. pointed. Over to the right, lined up in a neat row next to a white ute, were two red tractors. A farm worker was washing one down. ‘What do they use them for?’

‘Plenty of stuff. They probably make their own hay. And then there are paddocks to clean up and logs to be cleared and bales to feed out and water to lug—’

‘Okay, I get it. Sorry I asked. I’ve never had a drive of a tractor before.’

‘You’ll have to get one of your own, then.’ Angus grinned.

‘Hey, good idea.’

Angus shook his head and went back to the photos. He’d almost studied them all when Mr MacDonald stepped away from the desk.

‘We’ll go and have a look at the horses, boys.’

‘Okay.’ Angus scanned the rest of the pictures and began to turn towards his dad. Then he spotted one photo by itself under all the others. A black horse, tall and muscular, standing in green pasture: a horse that looked very familiar. Angus frowned.

‘Come along,’ Tom said, placing himself between Angus and the photos.

‘I was just looking—’

‘Angus?’ Mr MacDonald stood impatiently by the door.

‘Come on, Angus.’ E.D. followed Mr MacDonald, pulling Angus by the back of his shirt.

They went out the front door and followed Mr Mac and Tom through the stables to the paddocks behind. Angus walked slowly, straining to take in every horse in its stall. Stopping occasionally to rub a velvety nose or to straighten a forelock, he looked around as the animals nudged him playfully or nibbled his sleeve, but Lightning Strikes wasn’t there—he’s probably stabled at his trainer’s, thought Angus.

By the time he got to the end of the building, his father and Tom had disappeared. Angus stopped outside the stables to see where they’d gone. The yard was quiet, with no sign of any workers. He guessed that this was the slack time of the morning, with all stalls cleaned and horses fed. In the distance, he caught sight of his dad leaning over the railing of a paddock and started towards it. A small movement to his left made him stop.

In a yard at the back of the stables, a young black foal stood in the sun, blinking at Angus. It was still leggy. Probably about three months old, Angus thought. He went over and extended his hand towards it. ‘Where’s your mum?’ he said softly to the little horse. ‘You’re too young to be by yourself.’ The foal caught at his fingers and sucked hard on them. Angus pulled them out of its mouth, surprised at how forcefully he had to pull. ‘Hey, I need those.’ He gave the foal a quick scratch on its head and walked over to his father.

‘Angus.’ His dad had his eyes on the young horse being led in front of them. ‘What do you think?’

The horse was perfectly groomed and looked magnificent, but Angus knew his father needed more than that. ‘Good shoulder, Dad. Bit lacking in the girth, don’t you think?’

Mr MacDonald looked down at his son. ‘You’ve got a good eye. Where’s E.D.?’

Angus looked behind him. He’d forgotten all about his friend. Where was he?

Somewhere near the house, a tractor started up. Angus went cold. ‘I think I know where he is, Dad. I’ll go and get him.’

Before his father could say anything, Angus was running back the way he came. He dodged the stables, not wanting to scare the horses, and went around the side. Sure enough, a tractor was putt-putting its way along the back of the house, E.D. at the wheel. The farm worker was standing in the yard, smiling at him.

‘What are you doing?’ Angus yelled up at his friend.

‘Isn’t it a beauty? I convinced Paul here to let me have a go.’ E.D. was grinning fit to split his face.

Angus looked at the farm worker, who shrugged and said, ‘He told me he’d driven one before.’

‘He hasn’t, you know. He’s driven everything else with wheels, but not a tractor!’

‘Oh.’ Paul looked worried. ‘Time’s up!’ he yelled at E.D. ‘Cut the motor!’ He ran to the tractor and waved his arms.

E.D. looked puzzled. ‘It’s all right. I’m in control.’ He swung the wheel and the tractor turned heavily, taking a drum with it and sending it rolling noisily along the ground. Several young horses in their paddock took fright and galloped away, tails in the air.

‘What is going on here?’ Tom Bentley ran into the yard, sending a furious look at the farm worker. ‘Get him off!’

E.D. had a bit of trouble stopping. Paul ran beside him, shouting instructions, until E.D. killed the motor. But not before he’d swung too wide the other way and collected a chaff bag.

Tom gave Paul an earful while E.D. tried to apologise. Mr Mac shooed them towards the ute, saying that he’d come back on a day he didn’t have boys with him. He didn’t speak to E.D. or Angus as they drove out.

At the end of the driveway, Angus got out to shut the gate and stared at the homestead. The picture of the black horse was haunting him. What horse was it? Probably Lightning Strikes, but there was something not quite right about the picture compared with the horse he’d seen on the racetrack.

If only he’d had time to read the caption on the photograph.

Hannah’s bedroom was not like Gabby’s. Hannah was glad of that. If I had to wake up to pink sheets, pink curtains or a pink CD player, I think I’d
scream,
she thought, looking with satisfaction at her posters of Japanese anime characters.

In one corner of the room was a desk, with a computer taking up most of its top. The phone she’d found at the racetrack rested next to it. Hannah picked it up, flipped it open and ran her fingers over the buttons below the screen. She flicked through to the text message and the picture of the horse. It was hard to see clearly on the small screen. I could probably print that picture, she thought. Maybe get a clearer image of the background. Then Angus might be able to work out where it was taken.

Her door creaked.

Hannah looked up. Grubby fingers curled around the door edge, pushing it open. Quickly, she turned the phone off and slipped it under a T-shirt on the bed next to her. ‘Sean! I can see you.’

The door opened and her brother appeared. He was carrying a sword and wearing a ninja band around his head. ‘Where have you been?’

‘I’ve been around. You haven’t been looking properly, that’s all.’ Hannah didn’t look at Sean as she said that. She’d actually been avoiding him, not answering him when he called out for her, and even hiding in her cupboard once when he came in. She hadn’t been quick enough this time.

‘Mum said you were here, but I reckon you’ve been out with your boyfriend.’ Sean swished his sword and grinned at his sister.

Hannah rolled her eyes at him. Angus wasn’t a boyfriend. He was a
boy
friend and there was a
big
difference. She’d known Angus for so long it was like he was a brother. And she hadn’t been at his place—yet. Once she printed the photo from the phone she’d go over and show him.

Sean waited but when Hannah didn’t react he raced over to her bed, the sword high in the air.
‘I’m bored!’ He slammed the sword onto her quilt.

Something went crunch.

‘Sean!’ yelled Hannah, reaching quickly under the T-shirt for the phone. Too late. The phone had a long dent in it from the blade of the sword. She opened it carefully but the delicate screen had cracked in half. ‘You idiot, you’ve wrecked it.’ She tried turning it on. Nothing.

‘That’s not your phone. Whose is it?’

‘None of your business!’ Hannah yelled. She stood up, scowling. ‘Get out of my room!’

‘I didn’t mean it. How could I know you had someone else’s phone on your pillow?’

‘Just get out of here.’

‘I’m going to tell Mum you’ve got a new phone.’

Hannah grabbed her little brother’s shoulder. ‘Don’t tell Mum, you squirt.’ Sean looked at her and she saw tears in his eyes. ‘Don’t tell Mum, okay? I found the phone at the racetrack but I was going to give it back. True. Now it’s broken.’

‘I didn’t mean it.’

‘I know. Just get out of here and let me think what to do.’

Sean trailed out of the room, leaving his sword on the bed. Hannah picked it up and
threw it after him before she closed the door. She sat at the desk, frowning, and tried the phone again. It didn’t turn on straight away so she shook it. That’s a great scientific way of fixing things, she thought. But it seemed to work. The screen flickered, then lit up.

Sort of. Although all the lights were on, the image of the screen was only clear at the top and across one corner. Hannah managed to retrieve the picture of the horse, but it was just a blur except for the top of its rump and the paddock behind it.

Little brothers! Hannah thought. What’s the point of them?

Her plan had been to print out a bigger picture and it seemed there was still nothing else to do. Carefully, she plugged the phone into the computer and set to work.

It took about an hour of mucking around to get the picture. But finally it was printing: a big, blurry mess and a bit of horse bum. Hannah held the print-out up to dry and studied it closely. Now you could see the paddock behind the horse, and green fields and white railings with a group of tall trees behind that again. Just as the picture blurred, there was something painted on the rails. Hannah put the page down on the
desk. It looked like part of a letter. Or maybe it was part of a symbol? It was too hard to tell.

Angus might know, she thought. He’s got more of a clue about horsey things.

She put the photo into a plastic pocket, shoved it in her backpack, slipped what was left of the phone into her pocket, and left the room.

‘Just going to see Angus, Mum.’

‘Okay,’ said her mother from the kitchen. ‘Be back for dinner.’

Why do mothers always worry about dinner time? Hannah thought as she rode away on her bike. Always nagging about eating the right things and worrying about stuff like that. As if anyone would want to miss dinner. Then she felt guilty. At least she had a mother to nag at her. Angus didn’t.

She reached his house in record time after that. Guilt-fuelled pedalling. The red truck was gone from the back yard and King was in his paddock. He looked at her curiously as she rode in, let her bike drop to the ground, and banged on the back door.

‘Angus? Are you in there?’

No one answered. She tried the back door, knowing it would be unlocked. Mr Mac always said that they didn’t have anything worth
stealing. Mind you, he kept anything to do with his horses in the safe.

Hannah let herself in and walked to Angus’s room. It was a pigsty: clothes all over the floor, bed unmade, plates and glasses on the pillow, gumboots covered in mud in the middle of everything. A picture of a smiling woman in a nurse’s uniform holding an African baby stood on the bedside table, the only clear surface in the room. Hannah looked at it for a moment. But still no Angus. She went back outside. ‘Angus!’

No answer. This time she noticed E.D.’s motorbike parked near a stable and felt a pang of annoyance. They didn’t ask me to go with them, she thought. She went back inside and put the photo on Angus’s bed, hoping he’d notice it in the mess. At the last minute, she found a texta and wrote
Look at this and then ring me
on a scrap of paper.

It was all she could do. Slowly, she got on her bike and went home.

Angus, E.D. and Mr Mac arrived home about ten minutes after Hannah had gone. They climbed out of the truck.

‘I don’t reckon I’ll stick around,’ E.D. said to
Angus, giving Mr Mac a quick look. ‘Just in case I get blasted.’

He strode up to his motorbike, jammed the helmet on his head, and was gone before Angus could even nod. The noise stayed around, though, hanging in the air for about five minutes.

‘That boy could learn to slow down a bit,’ muttered Angus’s father.

‘It’s just the type of engine. Makes a lot of noise. So he reckons,’ Angus said quickly as his father raised his eyebrows at him. ‘What did you think of the farm, Dad? Will you get one of those other horses?’

Mr Mac shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Too expensive for my liking. I don’t know why, either. They weren’t that well-bred. It seems to me that they’re trying to raise some money. Maybe they’re in debt because of their renovations. It doesn’t really add up.’

Angus watched his father walk away to check on the horses.
It doesn’t really add up.
He was right there. The old McCann place needed more investigating.

Angus went into the house and through to his bedroom. The picture was the first thing to catch his eye.

A minute later, he was outside again.

‘Hey, King,’ he said, running over to his horse. ‘Want to go for a ride?’