Scallywag TYPESET

by Brogan, Stuart

  It was then Callum noticed the small six-foot by six-foot wooden structure affixed to the back end of the garage. Callum cursed himself for not noticing it sooner. His heart started to beat faster as he stoically assessed the large double dog kennel. How the hell could he have been so stupid? They had told him the target had guard dogs, but, with all that was happening, it had slipped his mind.

  Callum didn’t dislike dogs, per se, but, then again he wasn’t a huge fan, especially big aggressive-looking dogs that, judging by the size of the kennel, his target owned. He swallowed hard and made his way cautiously to his left, all the while keeping to the shadows.

  He moved slowly and deliberately, his footsteps heel to toe so as to not to alert any dogs at slumber within. Every now and then pausing for any sounds of movement. Callum stopped once again, this time only a matter of two metres from the garage and four metres from the canine habitat.

  Indecision at this point could prove fatal. He couldn’t stay long in his current position and knew damn well he had to make a move pretty sharpish or risk possible detection.

  He glanced to the floor and, through the gloom, noticed an abundance of small stones scattered amongst the dark earth, and at once made the decision.

  He bent down and picked up three of the smallest ones. Then, in a fluent movement, threw one towards the kennel, quickly followed by the other two. He froze as one by one the stones bounced off the kennel roof and ricocheted harmlessly back onto the grass. He held his breath, the anticipation clawing at his nerves. Nothing happened. He exhaled heavily, relieved that no dog came out to investigate the sudden break in silence.

  He pushed forward through the bushes and pressed himself up against the garage wall. Cautiously, he glanced back around the corner in the direction of the kennel, half expecting to see one or possibly two of man’s best friend standing there, poised for attack.

  Once again he was relieved that no such threat had manifested. Despite the relief, he also realised that if the dogs weren’t outside then in all probability they were tucked up nice and cosy inside, which was even worse. Inside the building they would be confined and likely more aggressive, and would most certainly have the drop on him should they be alerted to his presence. Not to mention that, on carpeted floors, the chances of him hearing them coming were slim.

  Once inside the house it made sense to seek them out and subdue them somehow, but for now his main concern was gaining entry.

  Callum turned to his right and, step by step, followed the wall of the building, edging ever closer to the frontage, the darkness enveloping him almost impenetrable. With his arm outstretched, he felt around for any sign of a door or window. To his surprise, it didn’t take long. Just a matter of two metres from the rear of the garage his hand brushed upon the unmistakable frame of a window. He smiled as some of the rotten wood came away in his hand.

  He had found his way in.

  Five

  22:50 Hrs

  Callum braced himself and, using both hands, pulled at the frame with as much control and care as his adrenalin would allow. Despite his initial caution, he froze when he applied a little too much pressure, causing the wood to come away with a loud snap. He remained silent for a minute in order to make sure no one was alerted to the noise, his actions amplified by the late hour and stillness of the garden.

  He relaxed a little when no sign was evident that he had been discovered. Once again, he pulled at the frame, this time even more mindful of the level of effort levied against it. With another, but this time more subdued, crack, the wood came free, exposing the sheet of weather-beaten and clouded glass. Obviously from the state of the window the occupant never bothered to fix or secure this entry point. Callum was suddenly inwardly reassured and felt confident in his assertions that this was indeed the best chance of gaining access to the otherwise seemingly impenetrable abode.

  Maybe he stood a real chance of getting out of this alive, he found himself wondering for a fleeting second.

  Once the frame was free, Callum reached down and retrieved his screwdriver from the backpack, then prised the glass out onto one hand. Once he had gained enough purchase, he dropped the tool harmlessly in his pack and clasped hold with both hands. He hefted the glass and carefully placed it beneath the bushes behind him. Once secured he grabbed the torch and, after a cursory glance, pointed it into the gloomy interior. He switched it on, keeping the angle low, the beam effortlessly cutting a swathe of light into the garage. He slowly scanned the area and was relieved to see the garage practically empty and surprisingly clean.

  The contents consisted of a few tools hanging tidily on hooks on the wall and a lawnmower pushed up against a large double metal storage cupboard to his right. He flicked off the torch and tucked it in his waistband, then clasped hold of the side of the window where the frame had previously resided. He heaved himself up and over the threshold, the brickwork crumbling away under the weight, sending a shower of dust and sand to the floor but luckily holding just long enough for Callum to get through.

  He lowered himself to the ground and immediately checked for other windows, not wanting to reveal his position with excessive use of the torch. He retrieved the heavy mag-light and once again scanned his entry point. Satisfied he hadn’t overlooked or forgotten something, he moved forward, his movements fluid and loose. Despite his young age they were the hallmarks of a seasoned thief. To his left the torch beam illuminated the large double door of the frontage.

  He sighed, relived once again that there was no vehicle or an abundance of household junk to hamper his progress. He swung the beam to his right. Directly across from the window opening was a single heavy UPVC door, its body solid with no glass or window.

  “Bingo,” he whispered, once again pleased with his reasoning.

  He moved forward towards the exit and pressed his ear against the solid door, eager to listen for any movement. Only silence greeted him. He listened again, this time remaining for a longer period, determined to be absolutely sure of what his senses were telling him. He couldn’t hear any movement nor any signs of a radio or, for that matter, a television from within.

  Callum moved back slightly and reached out to the single brass door-handle. He lightly touched it, and, as gently as he could, began to ease it downwards to disengage the mechanism. The handle didn’t move. Callum swore under his breath. The owner had obviously locked it from the inside and it appeared he wasn’t keen on making the same mistake so many other homeowners fell foul of.

  Callum stepped back and with a gloved hand wiped clean the area where his ear had been. During his short yet eventful life of crime, he had known many a respected and seasoned burglar get caught out by making such a schoolboy error, the police all too eager to gloat at their mistake. The one time when you rush things and lose discipline is inevitably the time when you do something stupid, something that inevitably gets you sent to prison for a very long time.

  He grimaced as a thought suddenly hit him. This time, though, if he was unlucky enough to get caught he wouldn’t be getting sent down for some shitty breaking and entering charge. The bleak, honest truth was that it wouldn’t be for anything less than cold-blooded murder, so double checking every action was never more important or imperative to his future freedoms, not to mention the safety of his sister.

  He rubbed his forehead. The unrelenting gravity of the situation was causing his temples to throb relentlessly.

  He reached into his backpack and retrieved the screwdriver, then proceeded to work it into the thin gap between the frame and handle mechanism. He started to apply pressure, at first keeping it constant before slowly increasing it until, finally, he felt the lock give way, the reassuring pop alerting him to his success.

  Despite the impressively heavy door it was always the cheap Chinese monkey-metal lock that let it down. People always presumed the lock itself would be high quality but, luckily for Callum, this was not always the case. Lady Luck seemed to be smiling on him at last.

  Callum gi
ngerly pressed the handle, smiling as this time it moved unhindered. He paused and listened, not wanting his excitement to cause him to act rashly or make some costly mistake, then as quietly as he could, edged the door open.

  Scallywag peered through the two-inch gap in the door and strained to see within. Despite it being dark Callum could make out the room. It was approximately eight feet square and appeared to be some sort of utility or laundry room, its floor tiled, the walls painted a dark rustic orange. Callum looked around and was relieved that there was no sign of the dogs or, for that matter, his target. The last thing he needed was to get jumped even before he could get the party started. Directly opposite the doorway was a second closed door, which he presumed led into the house. To his left sat a washing machine and tumble dryer; to the right a small French dresser. The air smelled of damp, the slight fragrant waft of fabric detergent catching his nostrils. He rose to his feet and, opening the door wider, slowly stepped across the threshold and into the house.

  No going back now, he thought to himself. If he was caught now there would be little chance of escape.

  He moved towards the inner door, all the while keeping his breathing slow and steady, attuning his senses to this new and undoubtedly hostile environment, knowing all too well that the owner would have the upper hand. He would most certainly know every sound or nuance the property exuded. Every sound had the capacity to alert his target of his intrusion. From here on in the stakes were higher, the price could very well be his life.

  As before, he cautiously pressed his ear to the door and listened for movement. Then once again diligently wiped the area clean. With one hand Callum withdrew the heavy torch from his backpack and gripped it tightly. With his other he slung the backpack over his shoulders and pulled the straps down sharply, securing it to his body. He reached down and twisted the knob; it moved easily and without resistance. Scallywag drew in a heavy lungful of air and opened the door, the torch gripped tightly, poised for attack should the need arise.

  The hallway was subduedly lit, the above lights slightly dimmed. He looked quickly from side to side in an attempt to locate any immediate threat. He let out a nervous sigh, as none was forthcoming.

  To his right the hallway stretched on for about four feet and ended with another door, slightly ajar, no doubt leading to the backroom, the one with the patio window he had spied from the garden. There didn’t seem to be any lights on nor any sign of activity. He concentrated to his left and followed the hallway to what looked like a small reception area directly attached to a set of inner doors, which Callum reasoned were the gateway to a front porch. Callum could see the hallway disappear to the right and figured that it would lead to other rooms, including the living room and the staircase ascending to the upper levels. That meant that from the patio room there must be a door leading into the kitchen, which in turn fed back somehow into the living room. It would appear that the whole bottom level was accessible from each room.

  Callum grimaced. That could either work in his favour or become a hindrance, depending on how it played out. Regardless, it was worth noting. He still had to figure out a way to deal with the dogs. He hadn’t seen any sign of them yet, but he was sure that they were in here somewhere.

  He gently closed the door behind him and, staying tight to the wall, began to make his way cautiously down the corridor, his footsteps silent on the plush dark brown carpet. The walls were intermittently adorned with pictures depicting hunting scenes, complete with horse riders and foxes. He chuffed to himself and turned up his nose, for he didn’t think much of his target’s interior decorating skills. Not only did the bloodsport pictures disgust him on a personal level, but the colour scheme was dreadful.

  Callum pushed forward all the while keeping his concentration aimed in his direction of travel, his focus towards the end of the hallway, the threat of his quarry suddenly appearing a very real possibility. Suddenly and without warning the floorboards creaked above him; he froze then, pushing his body back against the wall, instinctively held his breath. As adrenaline flooded his bloodstream he looked to the ceiling, his brow damp, sweat stinging his eyes.

  He listened intently as more heavy footsteps came from above, but more concerning was the fact they appeared to be heading in the direction of the staircase.

  Callum’s heart-rate suddenly kicked into overdrive and he started to panic. He heard a door slam, then what sounded like muffled movement. The realisation hit him, there really was someone coming down the stairs.

  Callum frantically glanced to his right towards the slightly open doorway at the end of the corridor, just past his original entry point. His mind was in turmoil, he had to make a decision. In his current state, he was exposed and obviously vulnerable to attack from both man and beast.

  He had no choice but to move.

  Continuing towards the front of the property was no longer a viable option. Callum launched himself forward and sprinted down the hallway towards the welcoming darkness of the patio room. As he ran, he could sense someone close by, more than likely nearing the bottom of the staircase, but he didn’t dare look back. Instead he kept going and could only pray that the room was empty and didn’t, in fact, contain any sleeping dogs or people.

  He burst through the doorway and gripped the handle; he swung his body back around and in one swift movement flung the door back to its original position, making sure the force didn’t cause the door to slam shut. He peered through the gap, thankful his body shape was concealed by the darkness within the room.

  He stifled his breathing in an attempt to calm the surge of adrenalin coursing through his system, and closed his eyes for a split second, forcing himself to calm down. He opened them once again and watched the hallway intently, knowing full well that someone was going to appear any second and would more than likely be heading his way.

  But, to his astonishment, no one did. In a sudden wave of terror, Callum threw his gaze to a second doorway located on the other side of the room, its outline darker than the surrounding structure. It appeared he had been right and the whole of the downstairs was connected.

  “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath as the room next-door was suddenly engulfed in light, the overspill casting a beam through the half-open doorway and splitting the gloom in half.

  Callum scanned the room for a potential hiding place. There was none. In fact, the room was totally bare. He looked towards where the patio window should have been, but instead of a wall of solid glass there was only brick. He looked to the floor; there was no carpet, not even laminate, just solid concrete. Again, he looked around the room, desperately trying to understand what was happening. The room was barren of furniture, its walls empty and painted a sterile white. Through the gloom, Callum looked on as a dark square on the floor slowly came into focus, its location now more obvious due to his eyes adjusting to the light.

  Instinctively he cautiously edged towards it, his curiosity overriding any sense of possible danger. “What the hell,” he whispered softly to himself as he stood silently gazing at the heavy metal trapdoor in the floor.

  He scanned the entrance and noted its construction. A large security bar had been fastened across it and was secured by a hinge one side and a padlock attached to the clasp bolted to the concrete floor the other. Callum took in a deep breath, his mind racing.

  He had burgled many homes and businesses during his time but had never seen anything like this before. This type of house shouldn’t have a basement. The sudden gushing of water and high-pitched squeal of liquid hitting a metal sink galvanized Callum into action, but it was the sound of footsteps coming to the door that actually made him move.

  He grabbed the door handle and darted into the hallway, once again pulling the door towards him to conceal his presence. He glanced behind him, suddenly remembering the open hallway and lack of cover. He held his nerve, knowing full well he didn’t have a choice. He peered through the gap in the door just in time to hear the crackle of electricity and see the room flooded wi
th harsh neon light.

  Callum screwed his eyes momentarily at the sudden overpowering glare from the sodium industrial bulbs. Who the hell has bulbs like that in a home? Callum looked on as a figure came into view, its back towards him, its posture hunched. He studied it. The figure was male, over six feet tall, wearing a heavy brown cable-knit jumper and dirty black jeans. From this angle, he looked pretty well-built and, in high probability, was Scallywag’s intended target.

  However, the fact that his captors had never produced a photograph of the copper left Callum less than one-hundred-percent sure. He remained motionless, all the while watching his target, reasoning that at this point it would be prudent to observe a little longer and to garner as much information as he could.

  When the time arrived he would need every conceivable advantage; he might only get one chance. He couldn’t help but think of a quote his history teacher once used: “To win a battle one must know the enemy better than you know yourself.” Or did he hear that on some movie? He couldn’t remember, but it not only seemed logical but somewhat apt considering his current situation.

  The other reason for observing was that the hidden doorway had seriously piqued Callum’s curiosity, like an itch begging to be scratched. No one had a door like that hidden in their house unless they were hiding something extremely valuable. What that something was would be anyone’s guess. Regardless of what lay beneath his feet, Scallywag wanted his cut of the action.

  Callum looked on as the figure bent down and carefully undid the padlock, then hefted the heavy steel bar from across the entrance. He gently placed it to the side and then, with one hand, pulled the door open.

  Callum winced as the metal gave out a high-pitched squeal as the hinges were worked. The figure kept hold as the metalwork fell back on itself, then rested the door on the ground. Callum kept watching as the heavy-built frame dropped his bodyweight and, with surprising agility, perched himself on the ledge with his legs dangling down into the unknown room. Scallywag stared intently with a combination of trepidation and excitement as the figure lowered himself into the opening and finally disappeared out of sight.