by Karen Cossey
“We can’t have that. There’s no way you’re eating my dessert,” he said, then he took off towards the cars, beating them all.
Nate was right, they should forget about those guys and the coins—they’d looked right through the lodge the other day. There was nothing there.
The racing was amazing to watch and Logan stopped thinking about his bike. The circuit covered two miles with a couple of straights which the drivers went flat out on, reaching speeds of over 180 mph. These guys were fantastic racers, but any faster and they’d likely lose control on the corners.
“Man, these guys are great!” Lia said as the cars went past them again.
Jason stared at her, his mouth set straight.
She gave him a sly smile. “They sure were handsome too.”
“Is that right?” he said, his face pinched.
“Probably don’t cheat at monopoly, either,” she said, looking thoughtful. Boy, was she a tease. Jason’s face was contorted in mock pain. She laughed, putting her arm around his shoulders.
“Don’t worry, honey. You’re ridiculously annoying, but I wouldn’t trade you in for any of these guys—or their cars.” Lia nodded at the track as the cars whizzed past again. “Hmm, I might trade you for the Viper. Do you think those guys would take you?”
“Not once you tell them what he does to fast cars. He likes to rig them so they flip over and over and then he makes them explode.” Meeka clapped her hands together as she explained.
“Nothing like seeing a Lamborghini go up in flames,” Jason said.
Logan shook his head. “No way! That would be wicked!”
“You should come see some time,” Jason said, and then his attention was pulled back to the track as the first of the cars came round again.
Logan’s grin widened. Wouldn’t it be brilliant if he got invited to see some stunts?
So why was Cole frowning at him?
Mr MacAdden drove up, parked his car and went into the office, which was directly across from the track. Logan got down from the railing to go over and ask him about his missing bike. For some reason Cole followed.
Mr MacAdden didn’t know anything about his bike, either, but said he would check it out and let him know. As they left the office, Cole asked Logan to give him a minute and hustled him behind the office.
“Look, Logan,” Cole said. “I know Jason and Lia seem genuine. They only knew us five minutes and they were happy to leave Meeka overnight with us. So I’m not saying they don’t like you, but you’ve been so miserable lately, I’d hate you to pin your hopes on Jason inviting you to watch his stunts sometime. When he gets back to his busy life, he’s likely to forget us all. Even if he does remember us, that doesn’t mean he’ll have time for us.”
“You never believe anyone!” Logan said, his whole body taut. “They won’t forget us.”
“Logan, they’re from another planet! He blows up Lamborghinis for a job, for crying out loud!” Cole took a deep breath then continued, calmer. “She’s a mega-star, and he spends most of his year travelling the world filming movies. They’re having a nice holiday right now, pretending to be normal. But when they get back to their everyday lives I bet they hardly have time for each other, let alone a bunch of misfit kids from the south of England. Enjoy them this week, but don’t expect too much after they’ve left. All right?”
Logan stared at Cole, not wanting to admit he might be right. He usually was. Gloom threatened. Not only had he lost his bike, Cole was stomping all over his dream about being good friends with Meeka and her family. He turned and walked back to the cars, staring at the ground, his hands sunk deep in his pockets.
*****
Jason ambled over to the office to talk to Mr MacAdden. When he saw Cole herd Logan behind the shed, he slipped around the other side of the building to listen. He had taken in most of their conversation.
He sighed, thinking about what Cole had said and kicking himself for making the suggestion about Logan coming to see some stunts. Cole was right. Once they got back to their everyday life, he had to fight to make time for Lia and Meeka. How could he possibly find time for anyone else?
He headed around to the entrance of the office. Mr MacAdden had stepped outside and was watching Logan and Cole retreating. He jumped when Jason came round the other corner of the office.
Mr MacAdden nodded at the office door. “I was inside, at the back window, and I heard Cole talking to Logan. Did you hear that, too?”
“Yes, I did,” Jason said, grimacing as he ran his hand through his hair.
“Oh.” Mr MacAdden paused. “You know Jason, it used to be that I was the local racing star—and owner of the racetrack—and everyone wanted to be my friend. Then, three years ago, I had an accident racing. I spent three weeks in a coma, then months recovering. All my friends gave up on me, all except Steve and Abby. They visited me every day and rearranged their lives to keep the track going. I would have had to close this whole place down without their help.” He swept his arm in wide arc, then dropped it and stared into space. Shaking his head he set his attention on Jason once more.
“They’re not very flashy, Steve and Abby. They keep to themselves and focus on their family. But they’re some of the most genuine and loyal people anyone could ever know. So when someone comes along and gets the opportunity to be their friend, if I were that person, I wouldn’t want to throw the chance away. I’d organise my life to take advantage of their friendship.”
He smiled at Jason and went back inside.
Jason headed back to the cars, forgetting what he had come over to talk to Mr MacAdden about.
*****
Back by the track, Nate reminded Logan of his bet. Logan sat by him and watched the cars. Sadly for him, the Viper didn’t beat the Aventador, which made it easier to turn down Jason’s post-racing offer of dinner at a restaurant. Nate would take great delight in stealing his dessert for sure. Fish and chips and a movie sounded better by far.
Chapter Sixteen
Monday Late Afternoon
They rode their bikes back to the house, Logan racing ahead of the others. Once inside he made for the tree house. He needed some space to rearrange his thoughts, but Nate wasn’t long in appearing.
“Meeka’s worried about you, and Cole told me what he said.” Nate sat down next to Logan. “Don’t let him get to you. He doesn’t know everything.”
“He’s usually right about things. We don’t call him Wise Old Owl for nothing.”
“We call him that to annoy him. He’s as dumb as you and me. As dumb as you anyway. Come on! You can’t tell the future, so stop sulking about it. You’re going to spoil all the fun you could have now, plus you’ll make Meeka mad.”
Nate looked up at the shelf, and then a huge grin detonated his face as he stood up. “And if you’re going to make Meeka mad, you should do it for a good reason.”
He picked up an egg and carefully rolled it in his hands.
“Powder bombs!” Logan said. “That would be wicked cool!” Maybe all was not lost!
Logan and Nate had taken weeks to make the bombs, if you counted all the attempts that had failed. First, they’d made a hole in each end of the eggs and blown out the insides. Then they’d left them to dry for a few days. The tricky part was funnelling in talcum powder. For an extra sneeze effect they’d mixed in some pepper as well. Lots of the eggs broke at that stage and they had to start again. Once the bombs were full, they’d taped the ends and left them on the shelf in the hut. Abby would ship both boys to the South Pole if she saw powder bombs inside the house.
“After the movie, we’ll go down to the beach and attack Poet and Meeka! They’ll never know what hit them,” Nate said, grinning. “How many do you think we can fit in our jacket pockets without them noticing?”
It turned out they could fit four bombs each. That could do some damage.
The boys went downstairs, carrying their jackets so the pockets were hidden. They tried not to grin too much.
Poet gave the
m a strange look. Probably she had guessed they were up to something.
Thankfully Meeka groaned just then. “Oh no, I left my wallet at the lodge. Can we bike past and get it on the way?”
“It’s in the opposite direction. Don’t worry, we’ll pay for you,” Cole said.
Meeka shook her head. “No, I wanted to pay for you all.”
Everyone protested.
“Come on, guys.” Meeka put both hands, palms up, in front of her, and shook them hard. “It’s easy for me. I have this magic debit card that Mum’s accountant keeps loaded with cash. It’s got at least three thousand pounds on it, you know, in case I see something important I need to buy.”
“Now that I don’t comprehend,” Cole said.
“I do,” said Nate. “It means the super deluxe meal for each of us at the fish and chip shop, plus our own ice cream and popcorn at the movies. No sharing.”
“What’s a little side trip to the lodge when you put it like that?” Poet said.
“You’ve got your key?” asked Logan.
“Oh yeah. I’ll run upstairs and get it.”
Logan shook his head and smiled.
*****
As they approached Hideaway Lodge, Logan remembered his rope was still hanging over the cliff. Actually, it was Cole’s rope. Oops.
Cole gave him a ribbing but Meeka was keen to abseil down it, and the others thought it was a good idea too. They yanked up the rope to get hold of the belay that was still attached near the bottom, and then took turns rappelling down. Everyone was in a good mood, even Cole, who stayed at the top of the cliff to untie the rope. He was going to bike around with the rope and anchors to the front door of the lodge and meet them there, then they’d all walk back to the bikes.
Logan remembered losing his running race against Meeka the day they met. Time to redeem himself. Tagging Meeka he took off in front of them all.
“Race ya!” he yelled.
As Logan rounded the corner, he saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks. He dropped down to the ground, and motioned for the others to do the same. There were men prowling around the lodge, acting like they were keeping guard. They looked dangerous.
It must be the coins after all!
They all crouched down behind some rocks while Logan took another look.
“It’s the two guys from the racetrack. One of them has a gun,” he said.
Poet let out a moan. “What about Cole?” she asked with horror in her eyes.
*****
Cole coasted through the trees and down the driveway on his bike. He came round the corner and spotted a white van parked out the front of the house. What was it doing here? Was there a mix-up with the bookings? The van sure didn’t look like the kind of vehicle the usual resident of the lodge would drive. It was a long way off being a Ferrari.
He looked around, his hands twisting on his bike handles. Next thing he scooted behind a tree.
Just in time. Out of the house came a big tattooed guy with a scar on his face. It was the man from on the bus! Except now he was carrying a gun. The man turned and yelled to someone inside to hurry up.
Cole watched as the other man from the bus brought out a large heavy-looking white bucket and loaded it in the van.
“Get a move on, Zach,” said the man with the gun.
“Take it easy, Oscar. We’re going as fast as we can,” Zach said, shooting him an angry glance.
Cole almost let out a groan as he remembered Poet and the kids. He needed to get to them. Going back the way he had come would be too slow—he needed to get past the van and the house and reach them on the beach before they got caught.
Zach went back inside, so Cole took a chance and approached the van as quietly as he could. Oscar was on the opposite side and didn’t notice him, but as he drew level with the van, Zach came out of the house and spotted him.
“Well, well, what have we here?” Zach said as he crossed the path towards Cole in a couple of bounds. He pulled back his arm to let loose a punch but Cole blocked it with an inwards kick. Without putting his foot down he retracted his leg and kicked Zach’s head. Zach yelled out and staggered back.
Cole leapt forward, grabbed Zach’s shoulder, and pulled him down into his knee as it rammed upwards into Zach’s stomach. Without stopping, Cole followed through with an elbow strike to the middle of Zach’s face, knocking him over. He lay groaning on the ground, cradling his head.
“Stop!” Cole heard Oscar’s loud, deep voice behind him, and turned around to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. “I think you better come with me. Hands on your head where I can see them. ” Oscar gestured with the gun for Cole to walk through the house and onto the veranda. It took a Zach a few more minutes to stop moaning, stand up and stagger after them.
Chapter Seventeen
“They’ve got Cole!” Logan said. Poet paled as she took a look. She turned back around and sat leaning against the rock, eyes closed.
“Looks like Cole had a good go at one of them,” Nate said, watching Zach come out of the house cradling his head. “If they didn’t have guns, he would have knocked them both out for sure.”
Logan strained to hear what the tattooed man with the deep voice was yelling. “They’re going to tie him up in the basement. The tattooed guy called the injured one Zach.”
Logan sat down beside the girls. Meeka had her arm around Poet. Poet was freaking out, but then she took a deep breath and a calm, determined expression settled on her face. Logan glanced at Nate—he had seen the look on Poet’s face, too. There would be no stopping her. She had made up her mind, and when she did that, she always followed through.
“We are not going to let anyone hurt my brother,” Poet said. “We have to go get him. If we can untie him, he’ll be able to fight his way out. They’ll probably only put one guard on him. We can get to the basement through the tunnel you told us about, up there.” She nodded off to her side.
Nate and Logan looked at each other.
“We’ll have to be careful not to be caught. And the tunnel could collapse,” Nate said. Didn’t sound like he was worried—he almost seemed excited about the idea.
“The doors will be locked,” Logan said.
Meeka coughed. “You know the other day when Cole wouldn’t pick the lock for us? I figured I needed to learn how to do that so I YouTubed it on my iPad. I even got some paperclips to keep in my pocket.” She pulled out a couple of large paperclips to show them. “I was going to find some pliers and shape them right, but we all got so busy I forgot. There’ll be some pliers in the workshop.”
They looked at each other and smiled.
“Let’s go,” Poet said, and she moved off back the way they’d come. The others followed her. Once they were out of sight around the corner, they headed for the trees and picked out a path to the boat shed. Nobody was about—either the men didn’t know about the boat shed or weren’t worried about guarding it.
Meeka found some pliers in the workshop and shaped two paperclips into a L-shaped lever, keeping one for a spare. She inserted the other one into the lock and pushed down on it, then poked a second straightened paperclip in the lock. After a few seconds of jiggling, the lock popped open. Poet hugged her and stepped through into a small bricked chamber.
Logan felt a cobweb brush across his face as he stepped into the chamber beside Poet. The only light came from the open door. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he saw there was an entrance to the tunnel on the far wall. Poet headed towards it.
“Hang on, Poet!” Logan pulled her back. “Don’t race off yet. I saw some torches here the other day.” He pushed her out of the chamber, and spotted the torches on a shelf. They took one each.
Now what? They needed a plan.
“We’ll have to be quiet, especially at the other end,” Logan said. “When we get there, I’ll listen at the door, and I’ll hold up my fingers to show you the number of voices I can hear. We’ll wait until it goes quiet, then Meeka can pick the lock. Nate should g
o through first—he’s the best fighter, plus he’s the most stupid.”
Nate grinned at Logan.
“I’ll go next,” Poet said, her shoulders pulled back and her lips pressed tight together.
She must be kidding! She’s too little! Logan opened his mouth to protest but Nate put his hand up, gesturing for him to be quiet.
“Let me,” he said to Logan, his eyes angry, his voice calm.
“Poet, I think you may have forgotten for a brief moment that you are in fact the smallest person here. If you want to rush out and meet those guys head on, that’s fine. But I suggest we look around for a first aid kit to take with us, or perhaps something we can use as a stretcher to bring you back on.”
Meeka and Logan shared a smile while Poet stared at Nate, her hands on her hips. Nate never stopped looking at her, his expression calm and determined. “What’s it to be?” he asked.
“Fine, I’ll go after Logan with Meeka,” she said, dropping her arms but not dropping her attitude.
“Good,” Logan said. “But if it doesn’t go quiet we come back here and think of something else. If we try to take on guys with guns we’ll all need a stretcher. Agreed?”
Logan stared at Poet, who hesitated then sighed and nodded her head.
They stepped through into the chamber, turned on their torches and headed into the tunnel. Shuddersomely eerie. It was wide enough for them to go two by two. Poet forgot her anger at Nate and clutched his hand as she waved her torch around, spotting spiders. There were scuttling sounds as rats ran away.
Logan heard Meeka swallow hard, and whisper to herself, “Ghosts aren’t real.” She must be remembering her fight with the smugglers’ ghosts she’d had in Poet’s bedroom.
“Can you hold my hand, I’m scared?” Logan whispered to her.
She shone her torch in his face. “No you’re not,” she said, and then they heard another rat scamper away. She trembled and grabbed his hand. “You’ll be all right. Ghosts aren’t real,” she said.
Strewn along the path were stones and small rocks that had crumbled from the roof and wall. They had to take their time, picking their way through the tunnel so as to not trip over. The walls were dripping water. About halfway to the house, by Logan’s estimation, puddles started appearing on the ground. They rounded a corner and there was a small pool of water right across the path.