Before it crash-landed on the road behind the wall of cars with a huge BUMP! Frank thought he was going to be hurled into the air as the car
The boy just managed to grip on to the roof of the Rolls-Royce. In no time, the car righted itself and sped off down the road.
Frank looked over his shoulder to see the chaos his father had caused.
The policemen were struggling to turn their cars round, but as they had stopped in tight formation they had blocked themselves in. The police cars bashed into each other as they attempted to give chase.
Despite nearly dying a hundred times, the boy couldn’t help but smile. His hero of a dad had done it again.
With Frank still clinging to the roof, the Rolls-Royce raced back into the pub car park. Dad must have been in a triumphant mood after his daring jump over the police cars, as he spun the car round backwards into its original parking space, missing the neighbouring vehicles by a centimetre.
SCREECH!
The Rolls-Royce came to such an abrupt halt that Frank couldn’t hold on any longer. The force of the stop meant that the boy was instantly catapulted from the roof of the car.
He soared through the air as if he’d been shot out of a cannon, and he landed in a bush.
“OOF!”
RUSTLE!
Fortunately the bush cushioned his fall and no bones were broken.
Although Frank was dazed, he instantly picked himself up and hurried off to find somewhere safe to hide. He didn’t want his father to discover he was out late at night in his pyjamas spying on him. If so, the boy would be in BIG trouble.
“WHAT WAS THAT?” shouted the man in the passenger seat.
“What was what?” replied one of the men in the back.
“THERE MUST HAVE BEEN SOMEONE ON THE ROOF OF MY MOTOR! AFTER THEM!” shouted the first man.
The two men in the back stumbled out of the car. One was tall and wiry, the other was big and bulky.
Frank watched from his hiding place behind a bin in the pub car park. The pair must have been feeling the worse for wear since their stunt drive, as they both looked wobbly. Their faces had turned green, and they were bent over, taking shallow breaths.
“I SAID ‘AFTER THEM’! What are you waiting for, Fingers?”
“I can’t, guv’nor. I think I’m going to hurl,” replied the tall, thin one.
“YOU, THEN, THUMBS!”
The bulky one had tears in his eyes. “I wet meself, guv’nor,” he murmured. “I can’t run in wet underpants.”
“WHY NOT?”
“Me mum says I’ll get a rash.”
“YOU PAIR OF USELESS TWITS!” he shouted. “GILBERT! AFTER THEM!”
Dad climbed out of the car. Since losing his leg, the man walked with a limp. His wooden leg always dragged behind him.
“I am sorry, Mr Big. It’s late. I have the babysitter at home. I gotta go.”
The little man’s eyes narrowed, and his words shot out like bullets. BAM! BAM! BAM!
“You are not listening! There was someone on the roof of my Roller. Now the three of you find them. NOW!”
Mr Big might not have been big, but when he snarled it was like coming face to face with a crocodile. Immediately Fingers, Thumbs and Dad all did what they were told. Thumbs waddled awkwardly, as you might well do if you’d wet your pants. The wiry Fingers jabbed Dad in the back, pushing him forward to face whatever danger was lurking in the shadows. Hiding behind the bin, Frank had nowhere to run. He leaned back into the darkness, praying he would not be seen. The three men paced nearer to him. Fingers searched the bushes, skimming the branches with his long, thin digits. Meanwhile Thumbs was huffing and puffing, getting down on his knees to look under all the cars.
“Nothing here, guv’nor,” called out Thumbs.
“Nor here, guv’nor,” added Fingers.
Dad was now so near Frank that the boy could hear his father breathing. The man peered behind the bin. Squatting there was his own son, looking guilty and scared and
“IS ANYONE THERE?” shouted Mr Big.
“No. No one,” replied Dad, staring his son straight in the eye. “No one at all.”
Dad shook his head slightly. The boy took this as a signal to stay as as still and quiet as he possibly could. If he moved a muscle, they would both be in DEEP TROUBLE.
“It must have been a bird, Mr Big,” said Dad.
“Ruddy big bird,” muttered the little man. “Now we have to get out of here before the fuzz start sniffing around. Fingers, get the Rolls resprayed and change the number plates in case they trace it.”
“Yes, guv’nor.”
“Thumbs, you can drive now.”
“Thank you, boss,” replied the bulky one.
“I want to get home in one piece. Now pile in, all of you.”
Dad paced back to the car with his head down, no doubt nervous about giving something away.
“What’s going on with you?” hissed Mr Big. The crime boss was as
“Nothing.”
“I can trust you, can’t I?”
