Hobbs will get you, Hobbs is here

Kids on the roundabout
A sky so clear
A man from Avery
Breath like beer
A house with a cellar
Youíll know no fear
Hobbs will get you, Hobbs is here

A new flashing blade
And a smile so clear
A grabbing hand
And blood to smear
A laugh a cry
No one will hear
Hobbs will get you, Hobbs is here.

Graffiti found in Public ablutions.
Exchange street. Banforth.
Supplied by kind permission Sunday Herald ©

Taken from Police evidence photography library.

GROWING PAINS

by Philip Shiell

In 1959 a group of housing tenements were put up by the Borough Council to
accommodate an influx of people to the area, these were not only Asian and
Indian but also white. The industrial boom in this area made life in this
part of northern England very prosperous and the people enjoyed a rather
uncommonly lavish lifestyle. Prices were low and there was enough work for
everyone, in fact the phrase ĎWe have never had it so goodí seemed to fit
almost too perfectly.

But sadly, like all good things, the area slid into a poverty stricken
slum.Overseas production facilities grew and like bloated leeches they hung
on and sucked the old industry dry, leaving grey husks which once resembled
proud workers.The area turned into a ghost town overnight.

The mid 90ís came but little changed, it was if something lived there,
something with the power to assimilate the folk and drain their ambition and
drive. People often wondered about the place, some even had their theories,
but they were only for the small groups of pensioners on the outskirts of
town, they were the ones who had lived through some of the things which had
constituted to the dark agendas that had past through the council corridors.
No one talked about those things anymore, it wasnít the done thing.

The housing tenements stand today, rising gray monoliths of concrete and
plastic, a past vision of a great future now in ruin. A maze of cracked and
weed ridden streets add to the mosaic of vandalised shop windows and the
graffitied walls which shout out neon coloured hate and warn of a police
state just around the corner.

Chaos now held sway over many of the quaint aspects, or should we say
statistics in our northern town of the present.

After unemployment throttled the last bits of pride the people once had, the
tenements were left to tramps and scavengers, deemed unsafe and hazardous, a
playground for the gangs which migrated to the dark alleys and empty garages
at nightfall, to savour the pleasures of this barren place.

Some families still held onto their damp and rat infested rooms, they lived
in constant fear, drawing their curtains when a scream echoed through the
arches of the blocks. The ambulance sirens would shatter the peace and the
pulsing blue lights would illuminate mouldy walls and somewhere deep in the
bowels of the building doors would be banged upon and Police radios
crackled. No witnesses found, only a body, no identification. A
pathologistís night shift in front of a sixties black and white film would
be taken away by the examination of this alien body, a few paragraphs in the
local rag to add to the already growing list of names typed on body bag
tags, rolled onto the slab and gently slid into the dark coolness of the
mortuary store. An evening stroll was out of the question with the gangs
taking to the streets, not unless you wanted to visit that dark cool place..

By daylight, the only people who seemed to enjoy the gloomy place were the
children playing truant, skiving school, rediscovering the past hidden in
the empty rooms standing high above the town in the high rise grave yard.

>From the pantiles, twenty stories up, the panorama was a lattice of
streets, side streets and dead ends. Wrecked cars made manouvering for
police cars nearly impossible, an advantage for the many groups of pushers
and punters. The scrap vehicles were towed regularly but joy riders brought
more to take their place.

A raven propelled itself from a fifth floor balcony, spread itís wings and
surveyed the streets for an overturned bin or leftovers from the night
before. The tenement it had left would be perfect for a whole flock of itís
kind, undisturbed and quiet. Itís flight didnít go unnoticed this morning,
two boys were negotiating a fallen wall close to the building, and as the
dark silhoette past overhead, their thoughts went to eggs, raven's eggs, to
add to their illegal collection of birds eggs or even something to throw at
a passing pig wagon on daily patrol for truants like themselves.

"Could ya hit the bastard from here ?" asked the taller of the two.

" Piece of piss, just gimme the right gun and that'd be history. My fatha
taught me, showed me the breathing and squeezing, ya never snap the trigger.
Got to take it real smooth," the boy looked down at the fallen masonary and
kicked a piece of rubble, skuffing his sports shoe. "He used the gun to take
out a post office," his voice lost it's previous glee and started to drone.
The boy picked up a chunk of wall and hurled it at the side of a scrap
car."Mam sez he'll be gone for twelve years like my brother. Bastards took
'im when I was at school, can you remember all the cop cars on the
Embankment and the road block ?" smiling the boy turned to his pal.

" Yeah, like a film," the taller boy relaxed when his friend seemed to
lighten up to the past and not get to anti. "What do ya wanna do today ?"

"Treasure hunt."

"Where ?"

"Avery drive."

"Are you stupid or what, that's gang land central."

" I know, and that's where they stash stuff, you know, the stuff lots of
people like to enjoy. I saw a kid last week up on the Embankment, he sez he
runs for a dealer from Trent street. Grabs the merchandise from im at the
back of the chippy, legs it to Cobwell through the subway and throws it in a
garage over there," he pointed to a row of what once had been tenemant
garages for the street, but now looked like the army had detonated Semtex in
them."Someone picks it up and goes into the flats here. Then on the other
side there is a biker with the dough, fast and easy. If the cops appear the
shadows swallow everything and the treasure goes up and up and up, somewhere
where the old folks and the pigs don't like going," he looked up at the
tallest of all the high rise nightmares dominating the horizon three streets
away, Avery House, the flagstone for the whole area had been laid there. The
other boy shuddered and rubbed his nose on his sleeve.

"Jimmy I don't think they would leave the stuff alone, there'll be a knife
up there, stick us when we turn a corner, we'll never make it out." The
taller boy tensed and tried not to show fear in his voice, but it didn't work.

"That kid said only one person goes in and stays, others are shit scared,
said they got a story 'bout some guy ?"

"Hobbs."

"What ya say ?" the smaller boy grabbed his cap and moved it back on his
head like he had seen on a thousand movies when the action was about to start.

"I read this graffiti down town in the alley next to the snooker hall and
then some kid had a clipping from a magazine about the same thing, spooky. I
read it and it's not good stuff. The guy killed kids, ya know, he was one of
the weird bastards who hang around school gates and take kids. It was in the
Sixties. They caught him on the Moor, saw him walking next to the motorway
there with a plastic bag. Pigs got suspicious and picked him up. There was a
kids head in the bag, told the cops she didn't want to play anymore. The guy
just flipped out spilled his guts to about thirty different killings, all
kids in the area." Panic strained his voice.

"Don't go chicken on me Stu."

"No Jimmy, no way, it's just that this guy gives me the creeps, there was
stuff he did, and the way............"

Jimmy reached into his rucksack and pulled something out, wrapped in oily rags.

"The pigs never did find what my fatha used in the post office job. He never
thought I would follow them to where they used to meet and talk and plan. He
buried it and I dug it up, bullets as well," the boy waved the Browning in
the air, it looked a little too heavy for his small hands.

"Shit Jimmy, hide it !" Stu jumped back at the sight of the thing and looked
around the debris strewn street for passing cars or people.

"This is our protection today, nobody is going to try anything with us. They
do, they get to talk to my fatha's old mate."

There was an uneasy silence around Avery House as the two boys stealthly
made their way to the entrance which all too quickly loomed above them.
Concrete pillars, graffitied and pock marked from the years of people coming
in and out, made the two feel small. Council tape and warning signs were
lying on the asphalt, shattered and vandalised, a vain attempt to stop
people entering the condemned structure. It would take a few more years
until the coucilors could rip the place down, the red tape hindered them.

This was a place the boys didn't know, it was out of bounds to most of their
age, playground warnings said this place had been used by the the most
violent gangs, a past which this morning leered at the adventurers from
plexi-glass shutters. Their shadows fell on the tall oak door. Stu reached
forward and took hold of the brass door handle and the sun glinted on it's
brass fittings as he slowly opened the heavy door. They strained to hear any
noises from inside the lobby, both bending over slightly, legs tight,
stomachs taught, ready to react at the slightest movement. One day, he knew,
he would enter this place as a king would enter his castle, fear would be
what others would have as he wielded the power passed down to him. Today was
a taste of the challenge, he had read a simple Arthurian story and the
concept burned in his soul. He would enter the world his father had started
to build, like all of the bands of warriors before him, rebels fighting in a
war against a regime that didn't give a shit about them. Sadly few would
agree with his demented vision of saving his father and brother, our world
didn't have room for these thinkers.

" Did you hear anything ?" Stu was five feet into the lobby area trying hard
to step carefully through the rubble scattered about. The entrance was
something out of the ordinary, he stood there, gaping like an idiot up at
the spiraling stairs, half expecting a game show host to shout out, or the
concierge running to hurl them out, like a hotel. Dust covered everything in
sight, here and there were the signs that people had been there, foot prints
and cigarette packets, chair legs and an assortment of furniture pieces. All
the elements composed a mono coloured world, like a huge vacuum cleaner bag
had exploded, air burst from the fifth, grey and choking.

" No, nothing." The other boy was equally astounded by the sight. "We should
watch it 'ere, could be some loose floor boards up there."

"They must 'ave been well off 'ere, look at the size of the ceiling, I don't
think the other places are like this," Stu had lived in a block nearby until
he had been sent down for two years. Childrens prison left scars. He didn't
want to go back. Jimmy, on the other hand, stayed one step ahead.

"Do ya think the lift works ?" Stu pushed randomly at the rows of buttons
and then kicked the metal doors out of frustration.

"No chance. I don't think they have got any power here. None of the lights
work."

Jimmy picked up an empty dust covered wine bottle and heaved it across the room.

"Bombs away !" Stu ducked as it spun close to his head and burst on the wall
sending green shards up the wall and away.

"You twat, ya could'a hit me."

"Did I ?" Jimmy stood leaning on the stair bannister, a smirk under his
cap."Come on, we better get on, just in case somebody saw us and calls the
pigs. Look down here there are a ton of footprints like in the snow, we can
just follow them."

"Get the gun out in case."

"Stu, ya making me nervous with your yellow streak. What they do to ya in
the hole, did ya have a bad time with the inmates, boy ?"

"Don't gimme that shit, you know what it's like when ya screw up and they
make ya pay up there. They caught me nicking and they wouldn't let me forget
breaking the `sacred code´ up there." He remembered the beatings they gave
him, it hadn't done anything to harden him up, just made him think a little
bit more before he tried anything.

They made their way up the stairs, cautiously trying some of the doors on
the way up. Most were unlocked but the rooms were empty. Jimmy noticed that
the footprints were everywhere and none seemed to lead to anything, so he
sat down.

"Ya know what I think, we've got no chance down here, they must hide it all
in some special place.Like in a wall, loose bricks....."

"Or even in the attic." Stu was tired from opening doors, tired of creeping
through the place in case a gang member was waiting. Hunger made him weak so
he wanted to find something quick and get the hell out. But he knew
persuading Jimmy would be impossible, it would only lead to more abuse and
accusations.

"Hey ya could be right, in the other places they put up loads of signs
telling folks not to go up into the roof, there are huge holes. You could
rig a neat place full of traps for nosey bastards. No one would think about
risking it." Jimmy jumped up, pleased with his idea and noticed his friend
wasn't. "If we find something there is money in it, ya know that don't ya,"
Jimmy talked seriously to him. He tried the voice his father had used, the
persuader, the manipulator.

"Is it worth it, falling ten bloody floors ?"

"Ya want a chance in this world ya gotta take risks man. Me fatha taught us
like. There ain't any point wasting a good opportunity."

They continued up in silence.

Fifteen minutes later they made their first real discovery. It wouldn't make
them the money they dreamed of but it was certainly a clue. Stu opened a
door, carefully easing it open, listening for any sound. As he looked in his
eyes opened wide.

"Jimmy I found the Knife's room," he whispered while holding onto the
doorframe with white knuckles, tense, he expected a hand to grab him
followed by the blade slipping smoothly into his belly. Jimmy was behind
him, pistol held in both hands, waving a little, more through weight than
nerves.

"Keep cool, I'll go in and look." He stooped and `back to the wall´ slowly
entered the room. After a few minutes he returned. "It's empty, but there
was somebody here though." In the middle of the tiled floor was a newspaper.
He picked it up and looked at the date. "From today." Turning to Stu, gun
held down, his face grim with the fact that they were definetly not alone.

In the corner of the room was a plastic bag, a normal supermarket bag.
Around it were crumbs and some crushed butts and a half empty bottle of milk.

"Could be a tramp, kipped down for the day, just gone roaming, wanted to
take a piss ?"

"I don't wanna be so sure." Jimmy flew against the wall suddenly and
crouched down. Stu panicked and kicked the door shut. He looked across at
Jimmy panting and shaking.

"What the hell was that ?" He sounded petrified.

"It was like something falling down, down past the wall over there, where
the chimney is."

"Do ya think the tramp found one of the traps ?"

"If we go up we could see."

"Lets look around here and then scarper, this place is giving me the creeps.
It smells like death, ya know that smell down by the slaughterhouse." Stu
edged from the door, groping at his jacket nervously. "We better start
to......."

"No way man. We came all this way. I'm not turning back cos of some old
bastard falling down, if it was a tramp ? It could'a been an animal of
somesort, who knows ?" Stu looked at his friend, he had a lot of respect for
him, he was someone who had helped him to learn a little, but now everything
was getting to much for him. He felt the pressure he had felt in the home.
"Stu ya gotta do it man, we could come out with something. Try and do it
man, for me."

Stu nodded and swallowed hard.

Jimmy went into an adjacent room. "Stu come and look at this." The other boy
stood at the door to the room.

"It's an answering machine." In the corner of the mouldy, damp room, between
the old magazines and brown newspaper clippings was a black box. On the top
of it was a flashing green light. "And there is a message I think ?"

"Stu, where is the electricity coming from ?" Jimmy gently moved the box
with his foot. There was a cable but it wasn't plugged in anywhere. "Where
is the telephone ?" They both looked down at the flashing box. "Ah, it must
be buggered, and there are batteries in it" Jimmy found the solution and
brought a smile to his friends face. "We are soft buggers, aren't we ? Hey,
could be a secret message from one of the bosses, let me hear it." Jimmy
paced the room and put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. Stu reached down
and pressed the message bottom. The box whined and then spat out a burble of
static and then a voice. A thin, reed-like voice, that of a young girl,
perhaps eight or nine years old.

"We all want to play today, everyone is here, everyone is here. Do you want
to play? He plays all the best games and we can show you too. They're all
easy, hide and seek, hide and seek ........... ."

Jimmy stared at the black box:"What was that?"

"Kids goofing. It's probably ancient, from the families who lived here."

The box whined again and the tiny speaker let out a fresh burst of static.
This time there was a boy's voice:"You two could play with us, come up and
join us." There was a background whisper and the girl's voice returned:"We
can come and call for you, we could come down and show you the games", she
giggled and the boy was back, "we can come up to you two, if you want?" Both
boys looked at each other in disbelief. The message was still running and in
the background hiss they could hear a grating sound, like metal chains being
pulled over corrugated metal.

"Oh, we've got labyrinths here, spiralling up and down, warrens and rivers
and streams for all." The message beeped off.

"Great, the cavalry is coming to get us. Jesus, I think someone is taking
the piss out of us."

"Jimmy, they said my name."

"They got your number!" Jimmy laughed out loud.

"You're funny." Stu sat on his haunches and rummaged in his jacket pocket,
"they probably found the hidden stuff upstairs, if there is any?" Jimmy
straightened up, alert.

"No way, I'm the one who's going to take the stuff," he raised the gun and
pointed it at the ceiling. "Fucking kids are gonna get a free flying lesson
if they've found anything!" Jimmy was in a fury, his gun shaking. "Come on!"
Stu got up, his enthusiasm waning, he wanted to be outside.

Outside, in the corridor, a stagnant smell hit them. As they took the next
three flights, it's pungency increased. On the twentieth a ventilator door
was banging, unhinched by vandals. The weather had changed. A wind had got
up. Drizzle spotted the windows, the squall howled through the ventilator
shaft. The smell increased.

The twentyfourth was the top floor. Each corridor was sectioned off by glass
fire doors, red frames and spider web cracks spreading from what looked like
bullet holes in the glass.

The wind howled in the corridor, the smell of ancient, still waters came
with it, an icy chill touched the boys. The doors creaked, dust blew up from
the floor and found its way into the backs of their throats. A raw coldness
bit into them.

"Jesus, I'm perished, s'like the bloody Arctic!"

The wind stopped as they closed the next fire door behind them. An eerie
silence. The new corridor led up to the lift door. A form of ash covered the
carpet, grey and lifeless. In the middle of the corridor was a red ball.
Around it were footprints, fresh footprints.

"This is where they've been playing, I bet they wanna try and scare us,"
Jimmy smirked and slowly walked forward. He stopped and looked back at Stu,
a puzzled look on his face. He waited. Then faintly, it started. Stu was
still confused about Jimmy's expression, but then he became aware of the
soft murmuring. He listened, it was like a croon or a purr or was it a
ringing. Goose flesh rose on his arms. The murmuring slowly rose up through
the floor, through the walls, multiple voices unclear, shimmering like
musical notes.

The ball moved.

"Christ!" Jimmy froze. Face white. The ball rolled towards him, tracing a
line through the dust.

"Jimmy, they're just pissing us about ... Jimmy?" Stu couldn't understand
Jimmy's silence until he slowly moved towards him. Jimmy whispered.

"Stu, look at the lift, look at the fucking lift", Jimmy's voice had a
shrillness to it, almost squeaky, from fear.

At the other end, near the lift doors, was motion, shadowy movement. It
resembled freshly disturbed silt on a river bed, circling dust and ash were
caught in tiny vortices six metres away from them. They squinted at the dim
shapes forming. A contour formed and then a profile, the dust erupted and
dispersed again, then tiny patches circled and reappeared adding more
detail. Figures slowly materialized out of the dust. Their unfocused forms
moved slowly toward the boys. Their bodies were empty, faces fuzzy,
indistinct. Five achromatic children manifested themselves, each ones body
was a sand storm of ash and dust, encapsulated within the diminutive figures.

The fear overwhelmed them, they turned and sprinted the way they'd come. Stu
lunged at the fire door, it nearly came off its hinges as he flew through.
Sprinting around the next corner they saw the top of the stairs, their way
out. Jimmy skidded to a stop, more clouds of dust were swirling on the
stairs, more children were manifesting themselves there. Jimmy grapped Stu
and pushed him back.

"Go up", cried Jimmy. "Go up to the stairs behind us, we'll go up and see if
we can get down the other stairs."

"What the hell are they?" Stu screamed to his racing friend, getting no answer.

They reached the set of stairs, heading up, and took them at speed. At the
top, panting and out of breath, they looked back. Figures began appearing at
the foot of the stairs and shrill childish laughter filled the air.

"Play with us, play with us, up and down, hide with us, up and down." The
rhyme reminded Stu of the newspaper clipping, the story and the name.

"Oh Jesus, Jimmy, these are the children, the bloody story in the newspaper
........ ." Stu grapped Jimmy's shoulder. "He killed them all, here, I bet."

Jimmy looked at Stu knowing he wanted an answer from him, a way to get them
out of here. "Stu, we've got to find a way out of here, let's get up into
the attic, maybe there is an open window, maybe a fire escape we can climb
down?" Jimmy hoped there was one, he couldn't remember seeing one. They both
backed away from the stairs, turned and ran down a short corridor, there
were hardly any rooms here. A service ladder, leading up to the ceiling
access door, hung down. The access door wide open, padlocks smashed years
ago by vandals. They climbed up.

The attic was huge, like a temple. Beams of wood supported water containers,
metal silos pointing up into the dark ceiling. Pipes ran everywhere, copper
and plastic of all thicknesses. It was if two floors had been put together
to accomodate the obselete heating equipment. Wooden beams shot up and
disappeared into the windowless roof, the only windows they could see were
long and thin, at intervals high on the walls. They was not enough space for
them to climb through. The dirty panes let in a smokey and subtle light.

"Careful, Stu, the floor could be dangerous. There must be another door on
the other side of the pipes." The centre of the huge attic was a mass of
twisting pipes, stacks of wood and old furniture, everything covered in ash
and dust.

They carefully moved across the room, watching every step for loose
floorboards. Sweat ran down their faces, with only sanctury on their minds
they tried to forget the visions from the floors below.

After what seemed like an eternity of scrambling over the pipes they saw the
other door.

"Oh shit", Jimmy spat out the words and coughed. He took out the pistol and
levelled it at the attic door.

"Jimmy, what the ...... ?" A shot rang out and the bullet cracked into the
door frame. Stu's ears rang from the shot. The dust figure above the open
trap door giggled.

"We don't know this game. Maybe we should ask him, he always knows the best
games. Let's ask him." The girl giggled again and looked up into the
darkness engulfing the upper ceiling where the thick wooden beams disappeared.

Up in the beams was a movement. Jimmy pointed his gun into the blackness and
shouted, "Get down here, you bastard, or I'll shoot. Stu just stood next to
him, trying to comprehend what was happening. He shivered through fear.

A creak and a crack signaled life above them, they glimpsed a long thin
limb, a leg. It moved crab-like. An arm, horribly deformed, swung down and a
white hand spread its fingers like a spider. Yellow fingers, long and with
multiple joints, wrapped around a wooden beam above the boys. Jimmy's arm
shook with fear, he could hardly keep his aim. Another arm swung down and
the boys backed off.

Something with insect-like movements was lowering itself down. Long, thin
legs, bare-skinned, pock-marked and bony extended to the floor. No man could
have such limbs. Mantis-like arms joined a torso, it was wrapped in
something which had been crudely put together from old clothes. The legs
bent to support the skeletal body, the knee joints cracked with every movement.

"He's here to play with you," giggling the girl made little circles with her
hands and nodded and shook her head gleefully.

The creature's head came into view. A long skull, with a face which looked
as if the jaw had been stretched to create a maw you could put a football
in. Dark piercing eyes, glassy and unblinking and a mouth which dribbled
saliva. The thing seemed to bob on its haunches and cock its head left and
right.

"Hello, these are our new friends!" It snatched a look back as the girl
spoke and then quickly looked back at the boys. Stu could feel urine
trickling down in his jeans. He moved slowly the way he would if he were
faced by a vicious dog. Jimmy sniffled and cursed under his breath, raised
the gun again and emptied it into the thing. No movement. It didn't even
notice the bullets enter it. It reached down and flicked the dust at its
feet. Its tongue swang from its dislocated jaw. Its cracked blue lips drew
back revealing bony needles in glistening gums. A clicking noise came from
the back of its throat.

Jimmy was still frozen, mesmerized by the thing's slow movements. Then it
sprang up into the rafters with superhuman speed. It moved like an agile
monkey, but still other movements were lizard-like, inhuman.

Stu started running back, Jimmy headed towards the girl, a mistake. A
gangling arm flew down from the rafters and grabbed Jimmy's arm and pulled
him up. He dangled in the air, struggling and kicking, the branch-like arm
rigid, unmoving. The thing threw Jimmy at the pipes, his head hit a pipe and
with a splintering noise his skull cracked and he fell limply to the dusty
floor. The thing dropped down to the floor again and picked up the body by
its neck.

Stu ran on, tears streaming down his cheeks because of what he had briefly
seen. At the bottom of the ladder the corridor was empty. He ran towards the
stairway and headed down. Halfway down he tripped and landed badly on his
leg, pain searing through his thigh. He tried to get up, but a fire burned
in his knee. He heard a noise behind him and pushed himself up. At the top
of the stairs stood the thing, stooping to fit through the doorway. In its
oversized hand it held Jimmy's head. The clicking sound from its mouth grew
louder and with it the floor started to rumble and shake. Vibrations and
cracking sounds ran through the walls and the floor, where Stu laid, fell
in. A perfect circle of floor broke inwards and he fell.

Dust blew up in dark clouds and he felt his head hit objects on his way down
and then suddenly he hit something which broke his fall. Three beams,
unbroken, laid across a room. He sat up and looked around, his head spinning
and his vision filled with dust, he became aware of the room he was in. The
answering machine sat in the corner of the room and next to it the girl. She
played with the buttons. The beams underneath him cracked but didn'd break.
He clutched the wood afraid he would fall again. He looked down and saw the
trouble he was in. A row of holes, concentric rings, stretched down into the
rooms below. A way down into the dark cellar beckoned him. That was where
the children had played their games. Dust and plaster fell on him and
droplets of moisture ran down his neck - the droplets of moisture dripped
from the thing above. It hung from the next floor up, like a swimmer ready
to dive into dark waters.

"He knows all the best games and he will show you them, won't you?" The girl
got up and walked to the edge of the hole and smiled at Stu. As she giggled
Hobbs let go and flew down snatching Stu from the beams and taking him down,
floor after floor, falling into the darkness.

The rain had cleared the school playground, the children should be having
break now, but the rain kept them inside. Two boys stood in the outside
toilet doorway, sheltering from the rain and cupping their hands to smoke.

"Here, look at this. I found it in a library book, " The boy handed the
newspaper clipping to his friend, "ever heard of it."

"Hobbs? No."

"Neat poem, eh? Police found it on a toilet wall in town, its gone now. I
talked to a kid on the Embankment, told me the guy killed kids in the
Fifties. Hey, you know what, the kid told me a cool story about how we can
make money."

"How?"

"He says there are drugs hidden in a tower block up on Avery