‘Gotta pee,’ Marion said, as she stripped muddy boots then raced inside.
‘We had no bother picking the drums up,’ Diogo said, continuing his explanation. ‘But as we pulled away, one of those new CIS prowlers came at us. They’re stealthy suckers. Cruise all day at thirty-five knots and they don’t show on my radar until it’s too late. I couldn’t outrun a prowler over any distance, so we blasted through reeds to an inlet too shallow for them to chase.
‘I thought they’d launch drones to search for us. So we jumped out, dragged Water Rat up onto an island and covered her with greenery. We were thigh deep in mud and the flies bit lumps out of us.’
‘Then you waited?’
Diogo nodded. ‘Nothing flew over. They must have got called away to something more important.’
‘Or they didn’t fancy chasing smugglers through mud,’ Robin suggested.
Inside, Marion exited the toilet, and spoke happily. ‘Great, I’m starving.’
Robin gasped as he looked indoors and saw her biting an enormous chunk out of his burger.
7. PILLS AND THRILLS
While Diogo hosed off muddy gear and cooked more burgers, Marion braved the outdoor shower and Robin carried the cargo out of the boat.
After lifting each filthy drum onto the balcony, he unscrewed waterproof seals and emptied out medical supplies like scalpel blades, bandage packs, dental amalgam and thick polythene bags filled with pills.
Diogo’s contacts overseas would sail to the edge of the delta at night and dump goods in shallow water or on one of the unoccupied islands. The following morning, Diogo would take Water Rat out and bring the stuff back to shore.
Diogo worked only for himself and stuck to what he knew. Even if he’d wanted to make big bucks smuggling guns or the kinds of drugs people use to get high, he wouldn’t have dared because those markets were controlled by powerful gangs.
But the government had made laws stopping people from getting medical treatment without swiping an up-to-date identity card. Since most Forest People were either refugees with no ID, or people on the run, a lot of people in Sherwood could only use illegal clinics and black-market medical supplies.
Marion kept her icy shower short and came down with straggly hair as Diogo plated up his batch of burgers and some corn cobs he’d thrown on too.
‘After this, I’ll hose out Water Rat and fix the crack where I banged her up,’ he said, as the trio filled their faces at a wobbly outdoor table. ‘Robin, now you have everything inside, I need you to start bagging pills.’
Robin sighed.
To save weight and space, most medicines were smuggled in bags containing thousands of loose tablets. Before being passed on to underground clinics and pharmacies in Sherwood Forest, they had to be split into smaller quantities and carefully labelled.
‘Don’t moan,’ Diogo said, as he bit into his corn cob.
‘I didn’t say anything,’ Robin answered defensively.
The sigh had been instinctive – hours printing labels and packing pills was brain numbing. But Robin admired what Diogo was doing. The biker took risks that could land him with serious jail time, and as most of the informal medical clinics had no money, he gave heaps of stuff away, or sold it for a minimal profit.
‘Robin always moans,’ Marion said, stirring it.
‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,’ Robin said, before trying to turn the tables. ‘Can Marion help?’
‘I spent half the day hiding up to my tits in mud, while you sat around,’ Marion snapped.
‘I worked out,’ Robin said. ‘And I’d go out on the boat if Diogo let me.’
‘We can’t take risks,’ Marion teased. ‘You’re the famous Robin Hood and you’re in hiding.’
Diogo extravagantly flung his chewed-up corn cob over his shoulder, letting it splosh into the delta. ‘It’s cute the way you two lovebirds bicker!’
‘We are not . . .’ Marion said, shuddering.
‘First comes love,’ Diogo sang, putting on a ridiculous old-time crooner voice, ‘then comes a marriage, then comes da baby, in a carriage . . .’
‘Nope!’ Robin said, shaking his head.
Diogo kept winding the thirteen-year-olds up. ‘I expect you’ll make me godfather when your triplets are born.’
‘I’m trying to eat!’ Marion said, making a face like she was going to spew.
Diogo wolfed the last quarter of his burger in one huge bite, then stood and noisily slapped his hairy belly.
‘That’s enough fun and games! I’ll fix Water Rat. Robin, sort pills; Marion, wash plates, then you deserve a rest. Also . . .’
They looked up from the table as Diogo paused dramatically.
‘I need you two to make yourselves scarce this evening, because Diogo has a date.’
Marion smiled. ‘Seriously?’
‘Never more so,’ Diogo said.
‘The one you had drinks with last week?’ Robin asked. ‘From online dating.’
‘You said that date was a dud,’ Marion added.
‘I thought she was pretty great, and it seems she liked me more than I realised,’ Diogo said proudly. ‘I already spoke to Emma Scarlock. She’s expecting you two at Boston Church Hall around half past seven. She says you can order pizza and stay overnight at her cottage.’
‘Fine by me,’ Robin agreed. ‘Change of scene. Neo’s got a PlayStation, and he’s a laugh if he’s around.’
‘Leave those rubber boots of yours in the boat if you’ve got female company,’ Marion warned. ‘You can smell them from twenty paces. And use a nail brush to scrub the muck from under your nails.’
Diogo smiled. ‘Marion, I was wooing ladies before you were born.’
Marion shot back, ‘But if you’d had the benefit of my advice, you wouldn’t still be single . . .’
8. DOUBLE CHOC MAGNUMS
It was after seven, but at this time of year it would stay light for hours.
Diogo had a workshop for his motorbikes, in a metal shed just off the littered beach. Marion had wheeled out and fuelled two mangled but powerful dirt bikes, being extra careful not to scrape Diogo’s monstrous chromed Harley Davidson, or his collection of classic Japanese racing bikes.
‘I’ve been waiting here like a lemon for ten minutes,’ she complained, as Robin clambered through the holiday-village fence holding a tangle of metal and melted plastic. ‘What the heck is that?’
‘Police drone came down earlier,’ Robin explained, as he closed in. ‘I told you I was going to look for it. I had a rough idea where it crashed, but I had to walk further than I thought.’
Marion studied the wreckage as Robin put it inside the bike shed. ‘It’s junk,’ she noted.
‘Interesting junk,’ Robin said. ‘I want to see what tech these things pack. I might even be able to work out the frequencies they transmit on.’
‘Such a geek.’ Marion smiled fondly.
‘Geek and proud,’ Robin said. ‘It’s probably burnt out, but you never know. I like playing around with tech stuff and I’ve not got much on when you’re out on Water Rat with Diogo.’
‘Whatever.’ Marion said, checking the time on her phone. ‘I’ve filled both bikes with gas. Your helmet’s hanging by the door. And I grabbed this for you on the way out of The Station.’
Robin looked baffled as she tossed him a rolled-up raincoat.
‘Check the sky.’
‘Good thinking,’ Robin said, as he looked at a sunny evening in one direction, but ominous hammerhead clouds closing from across the water.
He stuffed the waterproof down his backpack and put on his helmet, by which time Marion had kick-started and buzzed away.
The only road leading from The Station to the rest of civilisation wound along the delta’s southern edge for five kilometres. Cutting through the holiday village halved that distance, so after a few hundred metres Marion flung her bike left and sliced expertly through a gap in the wire fencing. She didn’t slow down, but Robin was a less experi
enced rider and used his brakes.
By the time Robin was back up to speed, Marion was blasting over dry weeds between the lines of alpine-style chalets that once housed holidaying families. After a sharp turn they came to the empty bowl of a giant outdoor leisure pool.
They both juddered down steps at the shallow end, but as soon as Marion reached the deep end, she picked up speed, steered up a twisting waterslide, then launched her bike off the platform at the top. She made a jarring landing on her front wheel but kept upright.
Robin considered the stunt as the end of the pool closed in, but he twisted his brake and stopped with his front wheel at the base of the faded blue ramp. The fact was, he’d been riding dirt bikes for a few months, while Marion’s dad was a biker who’d put her on two wheels as soon as she could walk.
After pushing backwards, Robin rode a circle of shame and exited the pool via the kiddies’ paddling area. Marion waited with a smug expression, and Robin thought she looked ridiculously cool, sat astride the bike with sun catching her black helmet and hair trailing out down her back.
‘That jump was internet-worthy,’ Robin said, flipping up his visor as he pulled alongside.
‘I assumed you’d ride along the edge,’ Marion said. ‘Almost gave me a heart attack when I thought you were gonna copy me.’
‘Probably would have died,’ Robin admitted.
Marion laughed. ‘Stick to climbing and archery – and being a geek – and leave the bike stuff to me.’
Thunder rumbled over the delta behind them as she flipped her visor down and blasted off. They cut through more of the holiday village, passing through a derelict staff car park, then under the burnt-out shell of the central dome.
Sunshine Road led from the holiday park’s main entrance to the edge of a little seafront village called Boston. There was never any traffic on this sand-blown road, which went nowhere except the dead resort, but their bikes had no plates or insurance so they couldn’t risk being stopped by a cop on the much busier road leading to the coast.
Marion parked behind a boarded supermarket and souvenir shop and the pair felt spots of rain as they strolled briskly downhill to the seafront. Boston beach was large and clean and the tide was way out. The seafront strip had a fish-and-chip shop and an Indian restaurant and three local girls played soccer on the sand.
Marion and Robin bought chocolate-raspberry ice creams in a corner shop and were still eating them off sticks as they arrived at a grotty church hall, which was run by a religious group called the New Survivors.
A sixteen-year-old volunteer was mopping the floor as they stepped into a hall the size of a classroom.
‘Hey, guys!’ she said brightly. ‘Haven’t seen you for a while.’
‘Hello, Bo,’ Marion answered, enjoying the way this rhymed.
The New Survivors ran lunch and supper clubs for local seniors, and while the oldies had all gone home, the lingering smell of mashed-up food and pee reminded Robin of infant school.
Bo smiled at Robin. ‘Didn’t you buy a choc ice for me?’
Robin had only met Bo twice before, but she was gorgeous and he had a little crush.
‘Shop’s open,’ he blurted. ‘I’ll go back and get you one if you like.’
‘Just joking,’ Bo said. ‘What have you been up to? Spending time on your Uncle Diogo’s boat?’
Bo only knew Robin and Marion by their cover story and the names on their fake ID cards: Ross and Mary Monto, a brother and sister spending summer with their Uncle Diogo while their parents went through a crummy divorce.
‘I go out on the boat a lot,’ Robin lied. ‘And I’ve been bulking up, working out with Uncle Diogo’s weights every day.’
Marion rolled her eyes, then had to stifle a laugh when Bo crushed Robin’s ego with, ‘Aren’t you a bit little for lifting weights?
‘Emma told me you two were coming,’ Bo continued. ‘But one of our spotters sighted some refugees and she had to rush off with Neo in the dinghy. She said to wait in her office at the back.’
Marion mocked Robin as they crossed the empty hall and moved out of Bo’s earshot. ‘Hey, Bo-Bo-kins! Do you want ice cream? Did I tell you I’ve been bulking up? Do you want to see my muscles?’
Robin couldn’t think of a good comeback, but he noticed Marion’s top was baggy behind the neck. He just had a tiny blob of ice cream left on his stick, so he moved fast, posting it down the back of Marion’s shirt and laughing his arse off as she flew into the air and yelped.
9. VENGEANCE SHALL BE MINE
Emma Scarlock’s office at the back of the church hall was barely big enough for a desk and a file cabinet. There was a small aerial and radio base station marked Property of Customs and Immigration Service on the desk and a detailed chart on one wall, showing islands and waterways along the southern side of the delta.
Robin studied the push pins sticking out of the map. Red ones marked places where a refugee boat had landed, while black pins showed spots where dead bodies had washed ashore. He jolted as Marion stepped in, buttoning her shirt, with a big wet patch on the back where she’d rinsed off the ice cream.
‘You’d better be nervous,’ Marion said, as she wagged her pointing finger. ‘On my brothers’ lives, I shall bring merciless vengeance!’
Robin smiled warily. ‘You can’t stand your brothers.’
‘So, did Emma call or anything?’ Marion asked, as she flopped into an office chair and thumped her boots on the desk.
‘Nope,’ Robin said. ‘Just hope her emergency doesn’t mean we’re stuck in this boring office all night.’
‘A lot of people die out there,’ Marion said, as she studied the map.
‘I counted twenty-six black pins,’ Robin said sadly. ‘And that map’s nowhere near the whole delta.’
Marion got her phone out to mess around. Robin nosed in the filing cabinet, but a hole punch was as interesting as it got.
‘Wonder how Diogo’s hot date is going,’ Robin said.
‘Oooh, I forgot to show you his picture,’ Marion said. ‘I took it while you were searching for the drone.’
She turned her phone around and Robin laughed at a snap of Diogo. He’d smartened up drastically, with chinos, a linen shirt and his hair tied back.
Robin grinned. ‘He almost looks civilised.’
‘I even got him to trim his eyebrow gap.’
Robin zoomed the picture and laughed. ‘That’s so much better. It’s usually like a hedge running across his whole face.’
A door slammed and there were vague shouts outside. Marion shot out of the seat as Bo yelled, ‘Ross, Mary, come help!’
Robin and Marion dashed into the hall.
Bo stood in the middle of the shiny wooden floor. Stocky eighteen-year-old goth Neo Scarlock wore a wetsuit and held a shivering woman wrapped in a foil blanket. Neo’s mum, Emma, had a bawling toddler in her arms and held the door as three more soggy refugees stepped in.
‘Ross, grab the medical kit!’ Neo shouted. ‘Third drawer of the filing cabinet.’
As Robin charged back to the office, Marion set out stacking chairs for the three healthier arrivals to sit down, then found a kettle to make hot drinks.
‘We need the dry clothes and towels from the storeroom,’ Emma said, as she peeked outside before locking the main door.
‘Did anyone see your boat come in?’ Bo asked frantically. ‘You know you’re not supposed to bring arrivals here unless it’s dark.’
‘We had no choice,’ Neo said. ‘We found them stuck on an embankment, and the tide was already up to their chests. There’s a storm closing and our dinghy was taking on water with seven people aboard. We’d never have made it to the main rescue centre.’
Robin realised the woman Neo had laid out on the floor was pregnant as he threw the medical kit over. Marion flung Robin a cushion and Bo raised the woman’s head so he could slide it underneath.
‘I think she’ll be OK,’ Neo said, as he opened the medical bag and clipped an oxygen monitor to the wom
an’s fingertip. ‘Just needs warming up.’
‘The water out there’s icy,’ Bo agreed. ‘Even in this weather.’
They couldn’t understand anything the refugees were saying, so as Marion made drinks and Bo got towels and armfuls of dry clothes out of a storage room, Emma held up a laminated book with flags and words on the front page. When one of the refugees pointed to a crescent symbol, Emma flipped to a page written in Arabic.
The writing explained that the refugees had been picked up by an organisation called Delta Rescue. If they consented, they would be taken to the organisation’s welcome centre, which was hidden in the eastern tip of Sherwood Forest. Once there, they would be examined by a doctor, allowed to rest for a few days and be given travel tickets, phone credit, food and anything else they needed for the next stage of their journey.
‘Delta Rescue is good, I know!’ the oldest of the refugees said, as the little boy dived into his lap. ‘We know of you.’
‘I’m glad you speak some English!’ Emma said, speaking slow and making gestures. ‘I know you are all tired, but this is a busy area. People who saw us bring you up the beach might call CIS. We need to find a car and get you out of here.’
‘My uncle’s taxi takes six,’ Bo suggested.
Emma looked hopeful. ‘We can trust him?’
‘He’ll want paying, but he’ll keep his mouth shut,’ Bo said. ‘I’ll buzz him now.’
Neo stood up from the floor holding the medical bag and spoke quietly to Emma. ‘Mum, there’s nobody on the beach with the dinghy, and we can’t afford to lose another one.’
Emma nodded. ‘Get it back in the water and clear out of here.’
‘Called my uncle,’ Bo said. ‘He’ll be here in five.’
‘Good work,’ Emma said. She pointed to a toilet door and reverted to her slow English. ‘If any of you want to go, you need to go now.’
As Neo rushed back to the beach to launch the rescue dinghy before cops arrived, the hall became a frenzy. Refugees took turns using the toilet, Marion handed out drinks and found a bandage for a woman with a cut on her wrist, while Robin and Emma sorted towels and dry clothes.
Jet Skis, Swamps & Smugglers Page 3