Chapter Eight The Protest March ‘WHAT’RE YOU SAYING? That the people who broke into this house weren’t real burglars at all?’ Nosh asked, astounded. ‘Why would they take the time to sit here and wipe out every file, then not take the computer?’ I asked. ‘Why not take the computer, then delete all the files once they got it home or something?’ ‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ Nosh agreed. ‘Nothing about this whole business does,’ I said. ‘I mean, how come the burglars knew the one and only night in the last year and a half when there was no one at home? Don’t you think that’s a bit of a coincidence?’ ‘Are you sure you’re not getting a bit carried away?’ frowned Nosh. ‘Nosh, look around. Nothing was taken – nothing except an old DVD player and a mobile phone. I reckon that was only taken to make it look like a burglary.’ ‘But what about all the mess …?’ ‘I’ve been thinking about that, too. The only explanation I can come up with is that the so-called burglars were looking for something.’ ‘Like what?’ I shrugged.
