Matty and Bill for Keeps by Elizabeth Fensham Page A

Bill.
    â€˜Apart from the disgusting ice-cream and tomato sauce, that’s an awfully dull letter,’ said Crispin. ‘Couldn’t we add just a teeny-weeny bit of rhyming slang?’
    â€˜No way,’ said Bill, and then he clicked the ‘Send’ button.

Thursday at school passed with painful slowness. Bill, Mat and Crispin were desperate to know if Maggot had replied to Bill’s email. Crispin had permission to go to the Grubs’ place to play so, when the bell went, the three children raced each other home.
    Because Tom was now working at an art gallery down in the suburbs, his computer was sitting there waiting to be used. Crispin logged on and the children held their breaths.
    â€˜Yeah!’ said Mat when a new email titled ‘Keep it shut’ popped up.
    â€˜Open it,’ said Bill. ‘Quick.’
    Crispin clicked on the email. Here was Maggot’s reply:
    Occer,
    Okay. You’ve proved your identity. But keep it shut about the tomato sauce. Don’t even write about that sort of stuff.
    Our enterprise involves dumping some factory waste. The authorities are over the top with all that environment carry-on. Mate of mine will pay well for our help.
    Have been looking at the map of your area. There’s a handy creek down the back of your lady’s place at DC. Nice and out of the way. Perfect for the purpose. Could do with a bit of inside info from you about best spot to get rid of the goods.
    Need to move this w/e.
    Reply quickly if you’re interested.
    M.
    Bill, Mat and Crispin had some discussing to do. It was clear that Maggot was looking for somewhere to dump toxic chemicals from a factory. Bill explained that the ‘Occer’ was probably short for O’Connell. He also told Mat and Crispin the tomato sauce and ice-cream story. But the email was vague in other places.
    â€˜The “DC” means Dewey Creek,’ added Mat, ‘and the next bit means he wants to dump the toxic waste this weekend.’
    â€˜If he puts that stuff near our creek, it will poison the water and kill the wildlife like the platypus you told me about,’ Bill said to Mat. ‘We have a serious situation here.’
    â€˜First things first,’ said Crispin. ‘Bill, you need to write back and give the go-ahead. Ask for exact details.’
    Bill wrote:
    M,
    Won’t mention the red stuff again.
    Count me in.
    Give exact details.
    T.
    â€˜It’s got the ring of authenticity,’ said Mat in an approving tone.
    Bill guessed Mat meant he had done a good job figuring out how Troy might really write. The club members started discussing what they thought Maggot’s plans might be when, suddenly, a reply flashed up on the screen.
    I’ll direct message you about our catch-up. Much easier.
    M.
    â€˜None of us can meet Maggot face to face. Even in disguise he’d recognise us. And besides, we’re too short,’ said Mat.
    â€˜I could get on top of Bill’s shoulders and we could cover ourselves with a long black cape,’ suggested Crispin.
    â€˜No way,’ said Bill firmly. ‘Somehow we have to agree to meet Maggot and yet make sure he never actually sees us.’
    â€˜But still manage to catch him red-handed,’ added Mat.
    Bill took over the computer and started typing:
    Troy writes . . . Waiting for instructions.
    A reply popped up:
    Maggot writes . . . Saturday night. Midnight. Truck with ten 20L jerry cans.
    Troy writes . . . What equipment do we need?
    Maggot writes . . . I’ll look after that.
    Troy writes . . . Just you or others?
    Maggot writes . . . Solo.
    Troy writes . . . Give me a minute to think this through.
    â€˜We need to come up with some way of getting Maggot down to the creek without him ever seeing us,’ said Bill.
    â€˜Tell him you can’t risk your wife seeing anything. Just say you’ll mark the trail to the creek,’ said Crispin.
    â€˜Good idea,’ said Mat. ‘We