Smile of the Tiger.
Prologue
1.
Saturday, November 21st, 1987.
Jack Adams was ten years old this day and, being so close to Christmas, his parents had always given him the choice of either receiving most of his presents on his birthday, leaving the remainder for Christmas Day, or vice versa.
He usually chose the former. 'Why wait?' he thought.
He was also looking forward to the school term finishing at the end of the week, heralding the start of the Christmas holidays.
He'd opened many presents, amongst them books, jigsaws, a toy tank and a new football to replace the one the families pet Boxer, 'Butch' had burst when he'd chased after it, plunging his powerful jaws straight through the plastic cover.
But there were two gifts Jack treasured above the others.
His new bike and a pair of binoculars.
A few minutes earlier, he'd cycled along the lane outside his house, then pedalled furiously up a path that led to the hilltop and sat down on an old tree trunk, breathing hard.
Now, from this vantage point, he put the glasses to his eyes and surveyed the surrounding countryside, concentrating especially on the railway line that ran across his vision from east to west.
Parts of the land were low-lying, so an embankment had been constructed to keep the railway level, and the trains would thunder along it, often sounding their air horns, Jack loving the clippety clap of their wheels as they clattered over the joints in the rails.
It was a cold, crisp morning, the frost on the fields still brilliant white and sparkling in the weak sunshine, Jack's breath visible as vapour.
As he waited for the midday express, scanning the railway as far as he could see so as to spot it the second it came into view round a distant bend, he picked up a car travelling fast along the lane below him and heading for the lengthy tunnel that ran under the embankment.
Refocussing his lenses, he trained his glasses on it.
"Wow!" he said to himself. "A Bentley!"
He followed it, noting its dark blue bodywork and black windows, watching as it disappeared into the blackness.
He quickly aimed his binoculars on the lane where the car would come into view again, waiting for it to emerge and continue its speeding journey.
Given its pace, it shouldn't have taken very long, but after at least half a minute, the car still hadn't shown up.
Puzzled, Jack lowered his glasses and scanned the area with his naked eye, wondering if he'd missed it somehow, but it was nowhere to be seen.
Momentarily distracted by the oncoming express train as it came into view, he quickly put the binoculars to his eyes again and trailed it until it had disappeared into the distance.
Then, slinging the glasses around his neck, he jumped on his bicycle, free wheeled down to the lane and pedalled along to the tunnel, half expecting to see the car parked up and broken down.
Maybe he could go for help?
He skidded to a halt and stared.
The only thing in the tunnel were the yellow lamps, built into its roof to illuminate the darkened road.
The Bentley had vanished.