Robin Hood 2

by Robert Muchamore

  Any desperate soul who came to Sherwood Outlets could get a hot meal and a shower, but you had to pay rent or work if you wanted to stay. Will’s rules kept the population a reasonable size, because most people who ended up in Sherwood Forest preferred breaking rules to following them.

  Will was in his fifties now, mixed-race, with a chilled persona, terrible teeth and a taste for brightly coloured bandanas. He’d seen some strange things in his decade at Designer Outlets, but now he was jogging away from his rooftop command tent, trying to understand a baffling scene unfolding near the bright yellow shower blocks.

  A man had come out of the showers and screamed as his sandal slipped in rat blood. There was Marion Maid looking furious and utterly filthy. There was a half-dead rat with an arrow through it kicking its last, and Unai the roofer yelling at Robin Hood.

  ‘You shot an arrow into my roof!’

  ‘I was aiming at the rat,’ Robin shouted back.

  ‘You’re supposed to be fixing holes, not making more!’

  Looking on were Azeem, several guards and at least thirty market-goers. Some were snapping pics or videoing with their phones, and guards were threatening to ban them from the mall if they didn’t delete the footage. It was widely known that Robin had been hiding at the mall, but they didn’t want videos being posted confirming that he was still there.

  Will stepped in front of Unai and grabbed Robin.

  ‘Azeem,’ he yelled, waving frantically, ‘take Robin to my tent out of sight. Unai, can you bag the dead rats and hose this blood up?’

  ‘I’m cleaning the downpipe,’ Unai said gruffly, then pointed at Marion. ‘The girl can do it.’

  ‘What?’ Marion yelled.

  Will gave Marion a smile and used his most persuasive voice. ‘You’re already as dirty as you’re gonna get. If you clear up, I’ll get someone to fetch clean clothes from your den. You can go straight in the shower after, and I’ll let you off chores for a week.’

  A week off chores for a quick-but-gruesome cleaning job was a decent deal, and Marion was used to gutting fish, so dead creatures and blood didn’t bother her.

  Azeem was shoving Robin, trying to get him off the scene, but Robin stood his ground and looked back.

  ‘I’m low on arrows,’ he yelled to Marion. ‘Could you pull ’em out and clean them up?’

  Marion growled. ‘Anything else, your majesty? How about a back rub and a foot massage?’

  ‘They’re carbon-fibre arrows,’ Robin begged. ‘Ten pounds each. I’ll owe you big time.’

  Robin wasn’t sure if Marion would save his arrows as Azeem put a hand on the back of his neck and started marching him towards the command tent.

  ‘I admire your nerve,’ she smirked. ‘Anyone asking me to pull arrows out of dead rats would get a bloody nose . . .’

  11. GETTING ONE STEP AHEAD

  Azeem was on security duty at the market, so she left Robin at the flaps of Will Scarlock’s command tent and told him not to go anywhere until Will came back.

  The sand-coloured tent hung from tight steel cables between the legs of the mall’s watchtower. The inside was dominated by a large planning table. There were two rows of panels showing CCTV footage from around the mall and display boards with dozens of rotas, covering everything from armed security patrols to picking rooftop tomatoes.

  Will’s wife, Emma, worked at a laptop, while their youngest son, Neo, was up back, fiddling around in a server cabinet.

  ‘You OK?’ Emma asked. ‘I was sorry to hear about your dad.’

  ‘I’ll miss him,’ Robin said sadly. ‘But what can I do?

  ‘We were just looking for you,’ Neo said.

  Neo Scarlock was eighteen and somewhere between a punk and a goth. He wore all black, with his top lip pierced and short bleached hair.

  Will stepped back into the tent and smiled at Robin. ‘Be extra nice to Marion next time you see her,’ he warned. ‘She’s not happy with you.’

  ‘I’ll make it up to her somehow,’ Robin said, then sighed before looking back at Neo. ‘You said you’d been looking for me?’

  Neo nodded. ‘My genius dad sends our number-one computer geek out to repair the roof, while I struggle with this get-up.’

  Robin stepped around the planning table and studied the tall server cabinet. There were three rack-mount computers slotted into the cabinet as well as various smaller gadgets, including a powerful encryption device, a box with displays showing the current output from the mall’s solar panels and another linked to a spectacular tangle of spaghetti from dozens of CCTV cameras.

  On the rug in front of the cabinet was a new 64-port network switch, along with its cardboard box and instructions.

  ‘I’ve wired this new switch to all the Wi-Fi outlets twice,’ Neo explained. ‘I’ve downloaded new firmware, rebooted, switched out cables in case one is faulty. But I’m still not getting an internet connection.’

  ‘I’ll have a look,’ Robin said, as he knelt down. ‘But I’m no networking expert.’

  Designer Outlets’ internet had died when the network switch blew four days earlier and Robin was keen to make it work.

  ‘You’ve wired connections to all servers,’ Robin muttered to himself, as he glanced at the instruction manual spread on the floor. ‘And you’ve plugged all the cables for Wi-Fi . . . but . . . The internet runs from the optical modem, yes?’

  ‘Sure.’ Neo nodded.

  ‘Where is that coming into the switch?’ Robin asked.

  As Neo looked confused, Robin had a light-bulb moment. He shuffled on his knees and stuck his head into the server cabinet. As hot air from computer fans blasted Robin’s face, he reached in the back and fished out a loose orange cable running from the modem.

  ‘You won’t get internet if the switch isn’t plugged into the modem,’ Robin explained.

  As Robin plugged in, the switch lit up with dozens of blue and amber lights that signalled data being transferred. Emma tapped something into her laptop and brought up a web page.

  ‘We have internet!’ she said triumphantly.

  ‘Not plugging the modem in is so embarrassing!’ Neo admitted as he facepalmed. Then he took it out on his father. ‘I told you Robin should be our IT person.’

  ‘I just plugged a modem into the switch,’ Robin said modestly, as he pulled his own phone and logged into the mall Wi-Fi. ‘Hacking is more my specialty.’

  Will smiled. ‘Next time our internet dies, Robin will be the first to know.’

  Emma laughed. ‘Even if it’s 3 a.m.?’

  ‘I was thinking about computer stuff while I was out on the roof,’ Robin told Will. ‘Indio said you like to know what’s going on inside Sherwood Castle.’

  Will nodded. ‘Sheriff Marjorie is always cooking up some scheme to make life harder for Forest People. A few friendly staff inside the castle tip me off when they catch gossip, but they’re cleaners and chefs. Nothing high up.’

  ‘Marjorie’s Castle Guards are vicious,’ Neo added. ‘They killed a bunch of people when they blew up the Sherwood Women’s Union compound a few months back. Sheriff Marjorie denied everything and blamed it on bandits, but a tip-off from inside could have saved their lives.’

  ‘One of the dead was a boy younger than you,’ Emma added.

  Robin nodded solemnly, before saying, ‘I might be able to hack into the Sherwood Castle computers.’

  Will, Emma and Neo looked ridiculously excited and Robin realised he had to manage their expectations.

  ‘Might,’ he stressed. ‘I can’t promise, but Sherwood Castle has a fancy hotel. The computer system must be linked to the outside world, so they can order supplies, take bookings, run guest Wi-Fi and stuff. If one of your sources can get me basic info, like the type of software the hotel uses and a photo inside the server room, there’s a chance I can hack their systems.’

  ‘I should be able to get that,’ Will agreed.

  ‘I have an account on all the good hacking and piracy forums,’ Robin said
. ‘Once you’ve given me basic info, I can do some research. I’ve got time on my hands, so there’s no harm having a go.’

  ‘None at all,’ Neo agreed, as he exchanged smiles with his parents.

  12. ALPHA MALE FACE-OFF

  Little John’s brain felt like scrambled egg. His dad was in prison, his mum treated him like he was a little kid and while he didn’t have heaps of friends or feel massive loyalty to Locksley High School, it had been his school for the past five years.

  As John walked to his locker to empty it out, he looked through doors at kids sitting in classrooms and felt a touch sad that he’d never do another lesson here, never queue for another lunch, never banter with the lads before a rugby match, never inhale the stench in the boys’ toilets . . .

  He tutted as he passed the half-scrubbed Robin Hood Rules at the top of the stairs. The glass had been swept where Clare’s ninja star smashed the light fitting, and his phone rang as he noticed dented metal where she had slammed the water fountain.

  John didn’t know the number on-screen, but instantly recognised the Israeli accent of Moshe Klein, a burly former special forces officer who headed up Sheriff Marjorie’s security team.

  ‘I’m waiting in the car,’ Moshe said. ‘Stretch Mercedes, parked out front.’

  ‘Won’t be long,’ John said. ‘I’ve got to clear my locker. The only thing is, I’ve got a massive hole in my backpack. Do you have a bag or something in the car?’

  Moshe hummed for a second. ‘I’ll take a look in the trunk, then come and give you a hand.’

  ‘First floor,’ John said. ‘Up the main stairs, turn left, first right then keep walking till you find me.’

  ‘With you in five,’ Moshe said.

  John pocketed his phone, then got chills as he neared the corner where he’d bumped into Clare and her goons. The grubby vinyl floor had deep gouges where her ninja stars hit, then weirdly he heard Clare’s voice.

  ‘Daddy.’

  It wasn’t Clare’s normal cocky tone. More like she’d been crying, and John thought he’d imagined it until she spoke again.

  ‘Daddy, please listen,’ she begged.

  ‘No, you listen,’ Guy Gisborne snarled back at his daughter.

  John’s heart skipped. If he hadn’t paused to look at the floor, he’d have walked straight into Clare’s psychotic leather-clad father and his rhino-skin whip.

  Guy addressed his daughter furiously. ‘I’m ashamed of you. Letting that giant blob escape, then backing out when they confronted you downstairs.’

  ‘There were twenty of them,’ Clare said. ‘Boys and girls, all older than me.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Gisborne said. ‘I started you in judo and kick-boxing when you were four. You should have smashed the closest one’s nose and gone down fighting if you had to. But you never show weakness by backing off. You have to find the names of those boys who dumped water on you and make them regret it.’

  ‘Can’t you do it?’ Clare pleaded.

  ‘You’re the one who lost respect,’ Guy said. ‘Only you can win it back. And it’s lucky you’re a girl. If one of your brothers shamed the family like this, they’d feel my whip.’

  ‘It’s different since the riot and Robin Hood,’ Clare complained. ‘Everyone hates us.’

  John’s phone pinged. He gulped and backed up as he read a message from Moshe:

  FOUND A BAG, HEADING UP NOW

  The ping echoed and Gisborne stepped around the corner to see who was there.

  ‘The giant blob himself!’ Gisborne growled.

  Clare followed her father, but looked nothing like her usual self. She’d changed from her wet uniform into Crocs and PE kit. Her hair was straggly and her eyes were ringed red, like a normal kid who’d had a really bad day.

  ‘Mr Gisborne,’ John said, polite and frightened. ‘Just here to empty my locker.’

  Gisborne’s black leather trousers squeaked, as his hand moved to a hefty whip at his side.

  ‘Lucky for you your mother is somebody important,’ he snarled. ‘But I won’t forget what you’ve done.’

  John heard footsteps behind and was relieved to see Moshe Klein, and the gun bulging under his tweed suit.

  ‘Maybe you should stop picking fights with kids,’ Moshe told Guy Gisborne, as he closed in. ‘Didn’t you get owned by a twelve-year-old the last time you tried?’

  ‘Well, if it isn’t Sheriff Marjorie’s head monkey,’ Gisborne taunted back. ‘Here to save the world with Krav Maga and a daft suit.’

  ‘Should have realised that was your absurdly customised truck parked out front,’ Moshe said.

  ‘Black Bess Two,’ Gisborne said proudly. ‘It’s got rims that cost more than you’ll earn in this year.’

  ‘I’m a soldier not a poser,’ Moshe growled, as he closed in to tower over Gisborne. ‘While you were squeezing protection money out of shopkeepers and recruiting zit-faced drug dealers, I was jumping out of helicopters. Fighting for real, in a war.’

  John was grateful for his back-up, but suspected Moshe and Gisborne would trade insults until sundown if someone didn’t interrupt.

  ‘Let’s empty my locker and get out of this dump,’ John urged, as he took a dark green roll bag from Moshe.

  Gisborne looked back at Clare and grabbed her wrist tightly. ‘Home!’ he barked.

  As Clare went towards the exit and John to his locker, they passed within half a metre of each other and exchanged looks that were almost sympathetic. Two teens tangled in an adult rivalry that neither had asked to be part of.

  13. MY ONLY WEAKNESS IS TEMPTATION

  After cleaning up gore and scrubbing Robin’s arrows, Marion decided to treat herself. Besides the mall’s basic rooftop showers, a group of Moroccan women ran Arabian-style baths in a former perfume store on the mall’s upper level.

  Amidst gentle music and flickering candles, Marion stepped into a copper tub filled with steaming water. As she settled in, one of the attendants tossed rose petals across the surface and gently massaged her calves and tired feet.

  They added pails of hot when the bath cooled and brought cucumber water to drink. Marion stayed in until she’d shrivelled like a prune and had to pee. After drying with thick towels, she put on white pumps, one of only two dresses she owned and a squirt of Middle Eastern perfume that almost choked her.

  When Marion got back to the family den, Indio was still out on the scouting mission and everyone had to be quiet because Finn was asleep. That was no fun, so she scoffed some leftovers from the fridge and jogged up the escalator to find Robin.

  ‘Three scrubbed arrows,’ Marion said, when she found him sprawled on a little sofa watching an old TV with a fuzzy picture. ‘Be very grateful.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Robin said sweetly.

  ‘What’s this old telly on for?’ Marion asked as she sat. ‘I heard you’d fixed internet.’

  ‘Local news,’ Robin explained. ‘I want to see what they say about my dad.’

  A shout of ‘Robin’ came from outside the den. It seemed friendly, but Robin still picked up his bow before peeking out of the door and eying Flash.

  ‘’Sup,’ Flash said shiftily. ‘My sister in there?’

  Robin nodded. ‘Wanna come in?’

  ‘Nah,’ Flash said, making a sneaky come outside gesture. ‘I met this stunning girl in the market earlier and I’m heading off to meet up. But I need to ask you something, in private.’

  Marion could hear most of the conversation from the sofa and yelled, ‘Don’t trust my brother, whatever he’s after!’

  Robin knew Marion was probably right about Flash. But looks, muscle and confidence with girls made him the coolest guy Robin knew and he wanted Flash to like him.

  ‘I’m in a bind with this money I took from the Brigands,’ Flash said, as he backed up towards the escalator so that Marion couldn’t hear. ‘Apparently a couple of them were in the market earlier, asking questions about me.’

  ‘Bad guys?’ Robin asked.

  �
��They’re all bad when you owe ’em money,’ Flash said. ‘But I have a plan to earn back the five thousand and a whole lot more.’

  ‘Good for you,’ Robin said.

  ‘But I’ll need your hacking skills and we’ll have to sneak out of the mall overnight.’

  Robin looked wary. ‘Marion knows the secret mall entrances better than anyone.’

  Flash shook his head. ‘She’s a daddy’s girl. Keep her out of this.’

  Robin didn’t like the idea of going behind his best friend’s back, but Flash gripped Robin’s shoulder and gave him pleading eyes that he now realised were exactly like Marion’s.

  ‘Robin, I need money before some mad biker puts an axe in me,’ Flash begged, ‘and you keep saying how bored you are, so this works for both of us.’

  Robin half smiled. ‘I will go mad if I don’t get out of this mall soon.’

  Flash took his smile as a yes and cracked a grin. ‘I knew you were cool!’ he said. ‘It’s a three-way split, and you’ll get a full share.’

  ‘Three?’ Robin queried. ‘And you haven’t even told me what I’m hacking!’

  ‘The third person is a friend on the inside who told me about the job,’ Flash said, as he let go of Robin’s shoulder, then checked the time on his phone. ‘It’ll take a few days to get organised. I’ve gotta head for this date, but I’ll talk you through the details tomorrow. I promise you’ll love what you hear.’

  ‘Right,’ Robin said suspiciously.

  Flash started walking but turned back three steps down the escalator.

  ‘Not a word to my sister,’ he warned.

  ‘I’m zipped,’ Robin said.

  The local news was starting as Robin headed back into his den.

  ‘What did thicko want?’ Marion asked.

  ‘Problem with his laptop,’ Robin lied. ‘He’s bringing it here tomorrow for me to take a look.’

  PART II

  FIVE DAYS LATER

  14. THE GREAT ESCAPE

  Robin’s phone lit up under his bedcovers and he read the time: 00:19. He rolled out of bed, already dressed in a camouflage shirt, black cargo pants and socks tucked into trousers to stop bugs crawling up his legs.