The Warrior Sheep Down Under by Christopher Russell Page A

little house to fetch one.
    Nat came out of his own cabin as Tod was passing. He was carrying a bag with bread and fruit in it. “Lunch on the go,” he grunted as he strode away. “Tell Frank the solicitor guy phoned. He’s arriving this morning. I’ll make sure the landing strip’s clear.”
    A short while later, a drone in the sky became a roar, and a speck in the distance became a helicopter. It hovered overhead briefly then slowly descended. The rotor blades sliced the air and the draught swirled up fallen leaves and dust. The helicopter landed with a gentle bump just beyond the perimeter fence, and a short, thin man with a bald head and very pale skin climbed out, clutching a large briefcase. He ducked low and crept from under the whirring blades. Once the helicopter had lifted off and flown away again, the new arrival marched solemnly toward the sanctuary gate, where Frank was waiting.
    â€œG’day, Mr. Creeply. Good to see you again.”
    Mr. Creeply stalked in without a handshake. “I’m getting to grips with the will,” he said grimly. “But there is still much to be done.” He made it sound like Frank’s fault.
    Frank beckoned Ida and Tod to join him.
    â€œThis is my sister Ida and her grandson, Tod.”
    â€œOh.” Mr. Creeply looked at Tod. “I hope I won’t be disturbed. Especially by childish noise.”
    Tod flushed but was too surprised to answer.
    Mr. Creeply took a very large, old-fashioned key from his briefcase. “I shall be in the office if you need me.” And he stalked away toward the tower.
    Frank hurried after him. Tod and Ida exchanged a look and followed.
    â€œSo how long d’you reckon you’ll be?” Frank asked, puffing slightly and wishing he were younger and his bones didn’t creak so much.
    â€œAs long as it takes,” replied Mr. Creeply. “Possibly two weeks.”
    â€œTwo weeks ?” Frank had been expecting him to say two hours.
    â€œI shall stay here until the job is done,” said Mr. Creeply with a severe stare.
    â€œRight,” said Frank, his head reeling. “Right…”
    Mr. Creeply teetered across the rope bridge and unfastened the great brass padlock that guarded Maiden Tower. The door creaked open. Frank followed Mr. Creeply inside.
    The thick stone walls kept the sunlight out and it was gloomy and cold. In the middle of the floor space, a spiral staircase, enclosed in stone, wound up into the darkness above. A narrow wooden door guarded the entrance to the staircase. It was ajar.
    Mr. Creeply tutted and pulled it closed. “I hope nobody’s been in here?” he said accusingly to Frank. “My clear instructions were that nothing was to be tampered with until all the legal work is completed. By me alone.”
    â€œYou must have left it open yourself,” said Frank. “Nobody but nobody’s been in here since you left after your last visit.”
    He sounded a bit flustered. And Tod, who’d crept across the rope bridge, was very curious. He remembered the evening he’d seen a light in the topmost window and felt an odd little shiver run down his spine. Was Uncle Frank telling the truth about the staircase door? Why would he lie?
    Outside the tower, Tod moved sharply back out of sight as Mr. Creeply turned. There was another door beyond the stone stairwell and the solicitor unlocked this one too and pushed it open. He walked inside, followed by Frank. Tod edged forward again.
    â€œMuch going on?”
    Tod jumped at the voice behind him. Nat was standing at the other end of the rope bridge.
    Tod blushed. “Er, I can’t see.”
    â€œThey’re not trying to get up the stairs, are they?” asked Nat.
    â€œNo. Through one of the other doors.”
    â€œGood. Only the stairs are a nightmare. Too steep and slippery for your poor old uncle.” Nat smiled a rare smile. “Though I wouldn’t worry too