The Missing Box

 A Short Childrens' Adventure

It was a fine warm April morning. Timmy and Danny the two school friends had stopped with their bikes to watch what seemed like a suspicious set of events. They could see the Range Rover that had stopped on the stone bridge. Two men, one shorter than the other, were busy unloading a large metal box. The men looked around them, as they proceeded to put the box close to the side. The shorter man, attached an aerial to the side of the bridge, while his colleague was talking on his mobile, presumably giving or receiving instructions. Both men were dressed in blue overalls. Near the bridge there was a group of men working in the fields.

“Wow,” Timmy the younger boy whispered, careful not to be heard. “What do you think they are doing Danny? Are they going to blow up the bridge?”

“You’re letting your imagination run away with you Timmy, it’s more likely to be a transmitter, and I bet they are from the Satellite Tracking Centre. The European Space Agency has established a base not far from here. They are probably bouncing a signal via a satellite to their dish at the tracking station.” Danny was a sagacious contemplative boy who wore glasses, and was interested in space flight. Being a year older than Timmy, he knew about satellites and things, whereas Timmy was a tubby little boy dreaming of spies and adventures.

The men finished their work on the bridge and after checking out their equipment they drove off heading for the neighbouring village.

“Come on, let’s go, and take a look,” Danny said, curious to see what kind of device they had left behind. The boys rode up the bridge, and Danny, seeing the flashing lights and digital read outs with MHz, and GHz and an aerial, decided that the box was indeed some sort of transmitter.

“They may be spies and they may be trying to jam the satellite signals from the Tracking Centre,” Timmy said a little concerned. He didn’t like the look of the two men. “It is close to lunchtime, we ought to go back home; we can come back after lunch, and see if the men have returned.”

The boys were back at the bridge by three in the afternoon, but by now, the box was gone. “We should have stayed,” Danny said. “Now we’ll never know what happened.” And then, just as they turned to leave somewhat disappointed, they heard the noise of a car. It was the same Range Rover that stopped once more on the bridge. This time, the men got out frantically looking around. The box had disappeared but the aerial was still there. “I told you that we should have stayed here till the job was done,” said the tall man.

“Nonsense,” said the other. “A military looking box with flashing lights is usually left alone by passers-by. There has to be a simple explanation! Let's ask those men looking our way, over by the field. They must have seen something."

“The box by itself, the hardware, has little value to ordinary individuals, unless they are interested in satellites so that leaves the possibility of foul play." The men had also seen the two school friends, and called them over but the boys had no useful information. By now, two men from the field had come over.

“Not long after you left, said one of the men, a military truck came, and two soldiers got out. they took the box and drove away.” The farm worker spoke with a foreign accent.

“That explains it,” said the shorter man. A vehicle on patrol must have come by, and seeing no one here, decided to take the box for security reasons. By now they’ll be checking on all the local military and official installations to find the owners so everything will be alright.”

“Let’s hope you are right,” said his companion who had his doubts about what the farm hand had told them, but he got on to his mobile and passed the information about a military vehicle to his superiors.

It did not take long before two police cars with lights flashing and making a lot of noise, came screeching to a halt on both sides of the bridge. After telling them all that they had seen, the boys were allowed to go home. By now, the story was breaking, and the local newspaper reporter was quick on the scene. The village had been transformed into a small media centre with plain-clothes detectives and officers from the special branch of the military police interrogating people. While it might have been difficult for the two men who had installed the box, it was pretty exciting stuff for the boys who found themselves in the middle of such an important event.
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Inspite of the thorough search, the box was not found, and finally the villagers returned to their normal activities. Three months later in July, the two friends were happy playing and riding their bikes over the country lanes and down to the river where they had not forgotten the unsolved mystery of the missing box. The waters under the bridge were now low and the boys would leave their bikes by the bank and hop across over the large stones and onto the other side watching the small fish in the puddles of water.

One afternoon, while they were playing by the river, Timmy shouted as he hit his foot on a piece of metal. It was the missing box.

“Hey Danny,” he called to his friend, “look at this!”

Danny came over. “Wow, it is the missing box! ”

“How do you think it got here?” Timmy asked his friend.

“I have wondered for a long time about the box. I think that the farm workers took the box and hid it. Seeing all the police activity they were frightened and dumped it in the river. There was no military vehicle, and there were no spies.”

“But the police checked the river!”

“Yes they did, but the workers dumped it afterwards. The temporary workers were foreign and they went back home after the season was over!”