"Freedom Fields, eh. An unusual orphanage, by what little I have heard of its reputation. I'll need some sleep, if I am going to stake that area out tonight," thought the reporter, as he watched Ann alight from the bus.

After returning home, having some rest, and enjoying his dinner; the reporter took out a backpack and put into it a sleeping bag, a torch, some biscuits,  a blue balaclava and his camera.

"I only go skiing once a year. So I should now be able to get my money's worth from that balaclava. I hope it doesn't rain tonight, because if it does I'm going to be stuck in a very wet forest," he thought.

*          *          *          *

The reporter parked his car in a side street that ran off Mona Vale Road. It was ten o'clock, when he had left his own home, so he could be sure that even the eldest girls would have gone to bed by the time he had arrived.

"Then there are the staff. I will have to be quiet. If I don't see anything to confirm my suspicions tonight, I will have to sleep until four thirty and then get out of here before sunup. With daylight saving, that's a bit later than it was, but it's still early at this time of year. The whole thing's extraordinairy. Any red haired girl could have used a ladder and saved the girl, but why the persistence with that story about flight? Why the hidden schoolbag? How did she end up approaching the crossing from a side street? I must be onto something, but I don't know what. That  Freedom Fields girl I followed must be the mysterious heroine. Red's not the most common colour for hair."

The reporter stole down the driveway, and was pleased to see that all of the lights were off in the orphanage.

"So all I need to do is be quiet," he thought.

He walked past the building, crossed the oval at the back and carried his load into the forest.

He unrolled his sleeping bag, lay down on his stomach, placed his hands under his chin, and looked out, at the area where the house should be, from the edge of the forest.

"Just in case I drop off, I should be ready in the morning," he thought.

The reporter set the alarm on his watch for four thirty in the morning and continued to watch the house.

It had been a nice building to observe from the street that afternoon. It was a large white building with dark green leaves growing from the vines, which clung to its outer walls. In the daytime, the reporter had appreciated the sheer beauty of the property. Now he waited for about half an hour, and then he saw a figure approaching from the house. As it reached the oval, he rolled into the bushes, taking his sleeping bag with him. His backpack was already well concealed. He could now lie comfortably on his side and hope that his intuition had served him well.

He saw a short child-like figure approaching the forest, and he could soon see that it was a girl. It was too dark to determine the colour of her hair, but it had the shape of the hair he had seen that afternoon, the hair of the girl on Mona Vale Road.

She walked past his hiding place oblivious to his presence and continued into the forest.

"That's an odd costume she's wearing. It has mixtures of colours: dark green, pink, orange, and those light blue bracelets I saw her wearing this afternoon, if the moonlight is anything to rely on. I took a good look at her arms after hearing little Kay tell her story. So assuming that she did use a ladder after creeping through the backdoor neighbour's property, and assuming that she cannot fly around in the sky; what then is she doing on her own in this forest at night?" thought the reporter.

When she was out of his hearing, he wriggled quietly out of his sleeping bag, reached for his torch, slid out of the bushes and followed her from a distance. She came to a small clearing and pressed a button on one of her bracelets.

"You can come down and get me, Butler One," he heard her say.

"Well so far nothing impossible or scientifically unprecedented," thought the reporter.

He had only to be patient. Within minutes he saw a shiny grey spaceship descending to land in the clearing. He then saw Ann float up onto its roof and ride a sinking platform down inside the spaceship.

"Too dark for a believable photograph, but I am certainly going to follow this story up," thought the reporter. He watched the spaceship disappear into the night sky, and then returned to his backpack.

"It's worth looking for her room while she's out. I might find a clue to tell me more about her. One thing's for sure. There's no explanation for this afternoon's rescue, which I will find more plausible than Kay's, after what I have just seen. Somehow this girl genius or whatever she is has got a lot of scientifically unprecedented equipment at her disposal, including that giant cruising sugar bowl in grey."

The reporter walked quietly over to the orphanage building, and walked around searching for open windows. He had pocketed his balaclava and clipped his torch to the belt of his trousers. There was little value in bringing his camera along for the trip. It would slow him down, and serve no purpose. It would be impossible to take a photograph - even if he found something interesting - without turning a light on and alerting the orphanage staff to his presence.

He soon located Ann's open window.