by Kevin Brooks
With my trainers in my hand, I headed along the landing to the bathroom. I didn’t try to keep quiet, I just tried to walk as normally as possible, as if all I was doing was going to the bathroom. It was a surprisingly difficult thing to do, and the more I thought about it, the more abnormally I walked. Eventually, worried that I was going to burst out laughing or fall over, or both, I stopped thinking about it, and that seemed to work.
Inside the bathroom, I switched on the light, locked the door, put on my trainers, then stood still and listened again. Everything sounded the same. My abnormal hobbling didn’t seem to have rung any alarm bells. I waited another minute, then flushed the toilet, ran the hot tap, and opened the window. After twenty seconds or so, I turned off the tap, switched off the light, unlocked the door, opened it, and then very quietly closed it again. There was nothing I could do about the lack of footsteps going back to my room. I just had to hope that Nan and Grandad didn’t notice.
Moving very carefully, and as quietly as possible, I stepped up onto the windowsill, then crouched down and eased myself through the open window. The ledge outside was wide enough to stand on. I cautiously shuffled along it, inching towards the drainpipe.
The drainpipe was one of those big old metal ones, which had the advantage of being easy to climb down. But the closer I got to it, the more I started worrying that it might be too old to take my weight. It looked pretty solid – bolted to the wall with hefty metal brackets – but close-up I could see that the paintwork was peeling away, revealing thick patches of rust underneath.
Don’t think about it, I told myself.
Don’t think about anything.
Just do it.
I reached out my right arm, got a hold on the pipe, then stretched out my right leg and placed my foot on one of the brackets. I gave the pipe a couple of good shakes to test its strength, and then, satisfied that it seemed sturdy enough, I stepped off the window ledge, pulling myself towards the pipe, and grabbed hold of it with both hands. My heart stopped for a moment as my left foot missed the bracket and I felt myself slipping, but once I’d scrambled around and found the bracket with my left foot, I felt relatively secure.
I hung there for a second or two, waiting for my heart to get back to normal again, then I began climbing down.
For the first few metres or so, everything was fine. The drainpipe held steady, the brackets took my weight, the pipe was easy to hold on to. In fact, it was all so easy that I began to relax a little, taking my time, breathing in the cool night air, looking around at the view – the night sky, the street lights in the distance, the neighbouring gardens down below . . .
And then, with a rusty creak, a bracket gave way and the drainpipe lurched away from the wall. I’ll never forget the momentary terror I felt, deep in my belly, as I felt myself falling backwards, still gripping onto the drainpipe, but suddenly aware that it was no longer connected to anything. Luckily for me the other brackets didn’t break off immediately, and as the drainpipe held for a moment or two, groaning with the strain, I just had time to look down, see that I was only about two metres from ground, and jump.
It was an instinctive, split-second decision, so I don’t really know if I was aiming to land in the big old lavender bush on the other side of the path, but that’s what I did. And there was no doubt that it cushioned my fall. I just kind of dropped down into the bush, flopped around for a bit, then rolled off backwards into a flower bed.
Apart from a few scratches – and a horrible shaky feeling in my belly – I wasn’t hurt.
I got to my knees, brushed myself down, and carefully peeked round the lavender bush at the house. The damaged section of drainpipe was leaning out at an angle from the wall, but now that it didn’t have to support my weight any more, it didn’t look as if it was going to get any worse. Inside the house, the kitchen light was on, but there was no sign of Nan or Grandad.
I waited a minute or two, then I crawled across to the shed on my hands and knees. Another quick look at the kitchen, then I got to my feet, opened the shed door, and went inside to get my bike.
As I wheeled it out and scooted off down the garden path, I checked my watch once again.
9.36 p.m.
I went out through the back gate, just as I had that morning.
It seemed like a thousand years ago.
47
The roads through the industrial estate were dark and quiet, and as I pedalled along Sowton Way – the approach road to Sowton Lane – the only sound I could hear was the rubbery hum of my brand-new tyres on the tarmac. It was a crystal-clear night, the air cool and fresh, and the sky was bright with stars. A pale crescent moon was rising over the distant chimneys, bathing them in an eerie grey light. The tall chimneys looked dark and stern, like faceless sentinels.
When I got to Sowton Lane, I cycled past it for another thirty metres or so, then pulled in at the side of the road beside a five-barred wooden gate. Mason was already there, waiting for me as we’d arranged. Big Lenny was with him, as usual. And as I got off my bike, I was pleasantly surprised to see that Evie Johnson was with them too. They were all wearing dark gear and black hoodies – Lenny wearing his under a long black coat – and they all looked ready for action.
‘Thanks for coming,’ I said to Mason, nodding at him and Lenny. I looked over at Evie. She was leaning casually against the gate, her hands in the back pockets of her tight black jeans.
‘I thought we might need some help,’ Mason said, glancing at Evie, then turning back to me. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
‘No . . .’ I said, smiling at Evie. ‘No, of course I don’t mind.’
She smiled, pushed herself off the gate, and came over to me. ‘What happened to you?’ she asked, grinning as she glanced at my hair.
‘What?’ I said, reaching instinctively for my head.
‘You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush.’
As I ran my fingers through my hair, bits of lavender bush started falling out. Leaves, purple petals, broken stems . . .
‘Here, let me help you,’ Evie said.
As she stepped close to me and began brushing her fingers through my hair, carefully picking out little bits of stick and stuff, I wasn’t sure what to do. I felt awkward and slightly embarrassed, but I also felt kind of OK.
‘It’s lavender,’ I told her, my voice oddly croaky.
‘Yeah?’
I cleared my throat. ‘I jumped off a drainpipe.’
‘Right . . .’
I looked at her.
She smiled at me.
‘It’s a good job Jaydie’s not here,’ I heard Mason say.
Evie glanced at him. ‘Who’s Jaydie?’
‘Travis’s girlfriend.’ Mason grinned. ‘She’d smack you one if she caught you running your hands through his hair.’
‘Jaydie’s not my girlfriend,’ I told Evie. ‘She’s Mason’s little sister.’
Evie shrugged. ‘Doesn’t bother me who she is.’
‘You think you’re funny, don’t you, Mason?’ I said, giving him a sideways look.
‘He’s about as funny as a kick in the head,’ Evie muttered, giving my hair a final ruffle. She stepped back and appraised her work. ‘There, that should do it.’
‘Thanks,’ I said.
She smiled and bowed her head. ‘You’re welcome.’
As we all went over to the gate, I saw Evie give Mason a dirty look, warning him to watch himself. He tried to shrug it off with a carefree grin, but he didn’t look quite as confident as he usually did. It was the first time I’d ever seen a lack of certainty in Mason, and for a moment or two I found myself wondering what it meant . . .
Then Evie said, ‘Do you really think Bashir’s in there?’ And I refocused my mind, leaned on the gate beside her, and gazed out across the moonlit fields.
The warehouse was roughly a hundred metres away, over to our left, dimly visible in the darkness. There were no lights on at the back of the building, but a faint glow was showing from a sma
ll window in the left-hand wall, and I could just about make out the shapes of two vehicles in the car park at the front.
‘Yeah,’ I muttered, ‘I think he’s in there.’
‘But you don’t know for sure?’ she said.
I shook my head. ‘That’s why I want to get in there.’ I looked at Mason. He was busy studying the landscape ahead of us now, his eyes taking everything in – the warehouse, the fields, the fencing, the hedges.
‘Are your people ready?’ I asked him.
He nodded. ‘They’re in position, waiting for my signal.’
‘How many did you get in the end?’
‘About forty.’
‘And they know what to do?’
‘Make a lot of noise, chuck a few stones, but stay outside the fence.’ Still studying the field, he said, ‘Are you sure this is the only way in? I mean, if we head across the field to the warehouse from here, we’re bound to be seen.’
‘We’re not going to head across the field, ‘ I told him. ‘We’re going to climb the gate and then follow the hedges round the edge of the field.’ I indicated the hedge to our left, running along Sowton Way back to the corner of Sowton Lane. ‘We follow this one down to the corner, then turn right and follow the other one to the fence at the side of the warehouse. As long as we keep in close to the hedges, we should be all right.’
All three of them were quiet for a moment as they contemplated the route I’d explained, looking down to our left, then over to the right. Eventually, one by one, they looked at each other and nodded.
‘Any questions?’ I said.
‘I’ve got a few,’ Mason said.
‘Yeah, me too,’ Evie added. ‘In fact, come to think of it, I’ve got about a million questions.’
‘How about you, Len?’ I said, turning to Lenny. ‘Have you got any questions?’
He didn’t say anything, he just looked back at me for a moment, shrugged his shoulders, then shook his head.
‘Right then,’ I said, climbing up onto the gate, ‘that’s that sorted out. Let’s get going.’
It was impossible to tell if we were being watched or not as we crept along the hedges towards the warehouse, but by the time we’d got to the fence there were no obvious signs that we’d been spotted. Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that we hadn’t. But even if the Omega men had seen us, and were just waiting quietly to see what we did next, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. So I didn’t bother thinking about it.
We were crouched down in the corner between the hedge and the fence now, no more than fifteen metres from the warehouse. The car park was immediately in front of us, the warehouse over to our right. A rusty old skip full of rubble and bricks was parked in the corner of the car park, shielding us from the warehouse. As we gathered round behind the skip, Mason took a pair of wire cutters from his pocket and passed them to Lenny. Lenny shuffled over to the far end of the skip, settled himself down on his knees, and began cutting a vertical slit in the fence.
‘All right, listen,’ I said quietly. ‘Before we go in, there’s a couple of things you all need to know.’ I looked at Evie. ‘Has Mason told you what’s going on here?’
‘He’s given me a rough idea, yeah. I mean, I know there’s a bunch of guys in there who might or might not have Bashir. I know they might be protecting him from some bad guys, but they might be holding him against his will. And I know we’re going to break into the warehouse and see if we can find him.’ She smiled. ‘Does that sound about right?’
‘It’s close enough.’
‘So what else do I need to know?’ she said.
‘Well,’ I said cautiously, ‘at least one of the men inside has got a gun.’
‘They’re all going to have guns, Trav,’ Mason said, as if it went without saying.
‘Do you think so?’
‘You said they were professionals, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah.’
He shrugged. ‘So they’ll have guns.’
‘Right,’ I muttered, wondering why I hadn’t thought of that. ‘Well, anyway,’ I went on, ‘I just thought you ought to know what we’re up against before we go in . . . just in case you want to change your mind or anything. I mean, I don’t expect they’ll actually start shooting—’
‘We live on the Slade, Travis,’ Evie said matter-of-factly. ‘We’re up against guns every day. It’s no big deal.’
‘We eat guns for breakfast,’ Mason added.
Evie looked at him.
‘What?’ he said, grinning at her. ‘Come on, you’ve got to admit that’s pretty funny.’
She shook her head dismissively, but I could tell she was trying hard not to smile. Mason kept on grinning at her for a second, then he looked over to see how Lenny was getting on with the fence. The slit was about two metres high now. Easily big enough to get through, even for him.
‘That’ll do, Len,’ Mason told him. ‘Good job.’
Lenny stopped snipping and passed the wire cutters back to Mason. Mason slipped them in his pocket, then bumped fists with Lenny.
‘So,’ Mason said breezily, turning back to me and rubbing his hands, ‘are we going to do this or not?’
‘Just one more thing,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if Bashir actually needs rescuing or not. Like Evie just said, they might be holding him against his will, but it’s equally possible that he wants to be with them. We won’t know which it is until we find him.’
‘If we find him,’ Mason said.
‘Right. But if we do find him, and he tells us that he’s not a prisoner and he wants to stay where he is, it’s important that we just leave it at that, OK?’
‘We take his word for it?’ Evie asked.
I nodded. ‘We don’t say anything. We don’t ask him anything. We just turn around and leave him to it.’
‘What if he is a prisoner?’
‘We get him out.’
‘Just like that?’ Mason said.
‘Yep.’
‘We just get him out?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Then what?’
I shrugged. ‘We’ll think of something.’
Mason laughed. ‘That’s your plan? We’ll think of something.’
‘Have you got a better idea?’
He looked at me for a moment or two, not quite sure what to say, then he just shrugged one shoulder, as if to say, ‘Ah, what the hell?’ and reached into his pocket and took out his mobile. ‘Just tell me when,’ he said, thumbing the screen.
I looked at Evie and Lenny. ‘Ready?’
They both nodded.
I turned back to Mason. His thumb was poised over the screen.
I nodded at him.
He pressed a key.
Almost immediately the silence of the night was broken by the sound of forty kids making as much noise as possible. Raised voices, shouts, the stomp of running feet. It came from across the road, and as I leaned to one side and looked through a gap in the hedge, I saw them emerging from the abandoned car-repair place where they’d been waiting for Mason’s signal – a mob of tough-looking kids, most of them hooded up, some of them with scarves over their faces, all of them swarming across the road towards the warehouse. The noise rose and swelled as they got closer – chanting and whooping, banging dustbin lids – and as the mob approached the double gates, some of them started throwing missiles. Stones, rocks, bricks, fireworks. I heard the thud of bricks landing on cars, then car alarms going off, sirens wailing, lights flashing . . .
‘Come on, let’s go!’ Mason hissed, grabbing my arm.
I looked round and saw that Evie and Lenny had already slipped through the gap in the fence and were hurrying round to the back of the warehouse. I followed Mason through the gap, and we set off after the other two.
With a bit of luck, the diversion I’d arranged with Mason would work, and all the attention inside the warehouse would be focused on the mob of kids out the front. Hopefully that was going to give us the chance we needed to sneak in wi
thout being seen, quickly find Bashir (if he was there), and then sneak out again. With or without Bashir.
And after that?
Well, when I’d told Mason that I didn’t have a plan, I wasn’t being completely honest. I had a plan. I knew exactly what I was going to do. But it didn’t concern Mason. It didn’t concern anyone except me and the man with the steely grey eyes.
48
‘It’s locked,’ Evie announced as Mason and I joined her and Lenny at the back door of the warehouse. ‘Bolted shut from the inside.’
‘No keyhole or anything?’ Mason asked, studying the solid wooden door.
‘Nope.’
‘It’s not an electric lock, is it?’ he said, looking around for an entry-code box.
‘I just told you, Mase,’ Evie sighed. ‘It’s bolted shut.’ She looked at me. ‘What about trying one of the windows?’
I glanced along the rear wall, checking out the windows. ‘They’re too small,’ I told her, shaking my head. ‘You and me could probably just about squeeze through, but Lenny and Mason would never make it.’ I looked at the door. ‘We’ll have to break it down.’ I turned to Lenny. ‘Can you smash it in without making too much noise?’
Lenny thought about it for moment, then looked at Mason.
‘He’ll do his best,’ Mason said, answering on Lenny’s behalf.
‘OK,’ I said, nodding at both of them. ‘Do it.’
As Evie moved out of the way, and Lenny lumbered up to the door, I crossed my fingers and hoped that the racket the estate kids were making would drown out the sound of Lenny breaking the door down. That was if he could break it down, I suddenly thought. Maybe it wasn’t just bolted shut on the inside? Maybe it was secured with heavy-duty industrial bolts, or reinforced with steel bars or something? Or maybe—
Thud!
The door was open.
While I’d been busy thinking about it – worrying about this, fretting about that – Lenny had just gone up to the door, looked at it for a moment, then slammed it open with his shoulder. He’d hit it just hard enough to wrench out the bolts but leave the door swinging on its hinges, and he’d hardly made any noise at all.