Drop Zone
By Ross McLeod
()
About this ebook
Set in the English Lake District, Abigail, Imogen and Ross, the young heroes of the story, are enjoying a well-deserved holiday when they accidentally become involved with a group of drug smugglers. The smugglers, a far from friendly group of men, have a hideout in the workings of a long disused copper-mine and the trio are set to have some hair-raising adventures, and put themselves at considerable risk, as they find themselves fighting for their lives whilst trying to save the life of an undercover policeman and bring the criminals to justice
Ross McLeod
Born in Cheshire, England, Ross McLeod studied at Stockport College and the Open university. His work, as a risk assessment engineer, took him to many parts of the world and into many interesting places, including gas exploration platforms in the North Sea, nuclear submarines and many of Scotland's and Northern England's prisons. This mind-broadening lifestyle has given him a vast and comprehensive insight into the diverse and complicated world in which we live and whether writing for children, or an older readership, as Len Cooke, his travels and experiences have given him an ability to write with authority, humour and an understanding of both his characters and his craft that is very hard to match. Now retired from his 'usual day job', he lives 'quietly, apart from when the grandchildren (code-named the SAS) come round' with his wife, Pip the Border collie dog and Penny, the ever mischievous, Main Coon cat.
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Drop Zone - Ross McLeod
DROP ZONE
R.M. McLeod
Published by Red Panda Press at Smashwords 2011
Copyright R.M. McLeod 2004-2012
To Kate; for unqualified inspiration and her belief.
Also by R.M. McLeod
The Witches of Lewthan Mountain
The Escape of Athelwan
The Ghosts of Badger Wood
Drop Zone
The Time Flyers
Coming Soon
The Theft of the Crown of Bodran
The Revenge of Botan
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any events, persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters are fictitious products of the author’s imagination.
ONE
'Well I don't care what we do!' Imogen Carrington flicked her blonde ponytail back over her shoulder and glared, defiantly, at her cousin Ross and sister Abigail.
Ross shook his head. 'You two can never make up your minds what you want to do, except when agreeing to do the exact opposite of what anyone else wants to do.'
'Oh don't be so perfect,' said Abigail. At twelve she was the eldest of the three and she always made sure the others remembered it. 'Anyway, you're only a child, what would you know about anything?'
'Well I'm bored,' grumbled Ross, ignoring his cousin’s sarcasm. He skimmed a pebble across the lake, watching with satisfaction as it bounced eight times before finally disappearing from view forever. Suddenly his face brightened; his blue eyes happy again. 'I know, Abi, why don't we go and explore the old copper mines?'
'Certainly not!' said Abigail. 'You know very well that we’re expressly forbidden to even think of going down there! They're old and dangerous, only last year two people were killed in one of the shafts, two adults who had lots of experience in caving and exploring mines and things.'
Ross grimaced. 'I wish I'd had two boys as cousins,' he began, 'they'd have wanted to go exploring.'
Imogen turned on him angrily. 'Oh grow up, Ross! You know very well what father said about Cooper's Mines. How many times have you to be told? They're old and dangerous, we're not going down them, and that's final!'
***
Half an hour later they were back at their rented holiday cottage being quizzed by the girls' father. 'So, did you three have a good afternoon?' he asked, cheerfully.
'It was boring,' complained Ross, helping himself to an apple from the large wooden fruit bowl on the dining table. 'I really, really wish I'd brought my Nintendo now.'
'Boring?' Ross's Uncle Charles was horrified. 'How can you possibly be bored when you're on holiday in the Lake District?'
'Ross's bored because I wouldn't let him explore Cooper's Mine, dad,' cut in Abigail.
'Tut tut,' admonished his uncle. 'You know the rules about the mine, Ross, I'm surprised at you.'
Ross shrugged, lamely. 'It was only a suggestion, something to do to relieve the boredom.'
'Nevertheless, Abigail’s quite right,' said Uncle Charles. 'Those old mines are lethal, there's been over a dozen people killed down them in the past thirty years. They’re dark, damp and extremely dangerous. Lots of experienced pot-holers have been lost for days down there. I want you to promise me you'll stay well away from them, Ross - do I make myself understood?'
Ross looked up into his uncle's earnest blue eyes then stared at the floor. 'Yes...yes...I promise.'
Uncle Charles patted him on the head affectionately. 'Good lad; knew you wouldn't let me down.'
***
Steady rain, towards the end of the first week of their fourteen-day holiday, dampened the children's spirits still further. Even Charles Carrington's suggestion that he arrange an orienteering expedition, for the following day, did little to help.
'What's the prize?' asked Ross.
'If you can get to the rendezvous by four o'clock then you'll be rewarded with a really good picnic,' replied his uncle, enthusiastically.
Ross rolled his eyes skywards as his tormentor disappeared into the kitchen.
Abigail shook her head. 'Sorry, Ross, I'm afraid my father’s a keep-fit fanatic.'
'But what do we do?' he asked.
'Dad nails clues onto trees, we have to find them and then follow the instructions they hold.'
'Wonderful,' said her cousin, thinking fondly of London and staring wistfully out of the rain-spattered window.
'I need a rest,' complained Imogen, as Abigail ripped the fourth clue from the nail that secured it to an old larch tree.
'Oh don't be such a wimp, Imi; if we want our treat then we have to be at the rendezvous by four o' clock!'
'I am tired, Abigail!' objected Imogen. 'After that low flying plane woke me in the middle of the night I couldn't get back to sleep!'
Ross nodded understandingly. 'Yes, it woke me too.'
Dad said it was probably the RAF, on a training flight,' put in Abigail. 'Apparently it happens quite a lot in the Lake District.'
'Anyway, what's the clue, Abi?' asked Ross, suddenly thinking of food.
'This time it's a map, we have to follow the shoreline of the lake until we see a sign.'
'A sign?' he asked. 'What sort of sign?'
'Well I don't know,' said Abigail, grumpily. 'It just says a sign
!'
Ross stood up, held out a hand to the still seated Imogen, and pulled her, wearily, to her feet. Then he turned towards the vast lake. 'Oh well,' he began, 'at least if we're going along the lake side I'll be able to practice my skimming technique.'
It was mid-August and after the two previous days of rain and a chill wind, it was now warm and muggy. Imogen was also beginning to become grumpy and now she groaned rather than spoke. 'How much further, Abi? How long now before we see the sign?'
'I don't know!' exclaimed her sister. 'That's the whole point of the exercise, learning how to read maps and find and follow clues.'
'Well I'm bored, tired and hungry.' said Imogen. 'And I'm going to rest here for a moment!' She flung herself down onto the fine shale that formed the boundary between the forest and the lake, her face set, determined.
Ross held out an encouraging hand. 'Come on, Abi, the sooner we finish the sooner we can rest and have our picnic.'
Imogen shook her