Scooters Yard

by Clive Mullis

  Frankie checked his watch as they waited at the door to the basement. He held the key, which, in reality, was a forty pound lump of metal with a couple of handles attached to it: used by the dwarfs for breaking up rocks, but at that moment, it would serve as the master key.

  Behind him were nine girls, all raring to go and Frankie gave them their simple instructions: basically, to attack first and ask questions later.

  Frankie put his watch away and began to swing the key. It felt surprisingly light and got lighter the more he swung: he found it gave quite a satisfying feeling. With a final heave on a downward swing, he put all the strength he could muster into it and the key connected to the door.

  CHAPTER 34

  MacGillicudy went through first. He sprinted in and dived into the left hand corridor and then stopped dead in his tracks, no one confronted him. Hettie had joined him while Rose and Dewdrop followed and dived into the right hand corridor and found no one there too. They all stopped, looking perplexed.

  They then heard an almighty crash further on down, together with splintering noises, which must have been Frankie playing with his key.

  Fortunately, someone had lit some lanterns, so MacGillicudy signalled for Rose and Dewdrop to start following their corridor while he and Hettie followed theirs. The plan had been worked out just a few minutes before.

  The dormitories and training rooms took up a large amount of space, and with Frankie signalling his arrival, they had no time to waste. Rose and Dewdrop sprinted off.

  MacGillicudy and Hettie loped off towards the noise and a few yards down, just around a corner, they found the first barrel. The fuse had been set, but had yet to be lit. The commander grabbed hold of the bit of string and yanked it out. Just then, close by, they heard a yell of anguish followed by a thudding noise.

  Raising their truncheons, MacGillicudy and Hettie dived around the next corner and found Frankie being inventive with the key — Magot appeared to be the recipient.

  Frankie rushed in through the door and immediately saw half a dozen barrels waiting to be deployed. Next to them, holding one barrel lovingly against his chest, he saw Magot.

  A look of bewilderment crossed Magot’s face, then one of realisation before turning to anger, then finally one of pain as Frankie’s key connected.

  Magot knew that soft human flesh would be no match for the lump of metal coming his way and he let out a cry. He dropped the barrel, hoping to avoid the blow by diving out of the way, but years of neglect had made him slow. The key went home before he had a chance to move.

  He doubled over like a spring clip as his gonads felt the full force, and as his head snapped forward he unwittingly kissed the key at a speed that should be nigh on impossible: as well as his gonads exploding, so did his nose and mouth. He slumped into unconsciousness half a second later.

  Frankie heard the patter of running feet and turned as he disengaged the key from what was left of Magot. He just began re-engaging the swing when a shout stopped him.

  ‘Whoa,’ yelled MacGillicudy, before he felt the force. ‘It’s me.’

  Frankie grinned and relaxed his arms. ‘Where’s Rose?’

  ‘She and Dewdrop have gone around the other way.’

  Just at that moment, a yell echoed along the corridors.

  MacGillicudy made a snap decision. He grabbed hold of Verity and Jules. ‘You come with me and Hettie,’ and he dashed off back the way he’d come with the girls trying to keep pace.

  Frankie thought for a moment. ‘Volunteers?’ he asked.

  All the girls indicated their willingness to oblige, so he picked at random.

  ‘Regina and Hope. Guard these barrels and cuff Magot. We don’t know how many men or barrels are here so we need to make sure they’re safe. Felicity and Tiffany, check all the rooms, the rest of you come with me.’

  Rose heard the yell of anguish and faltered in her step; part of her wanted to return to find out who had yelled, but her momentary slowing of pace allowed Dewdrop to get in front.

  They reached another corner and Dewdrop skidded around first, followed quickly by Rose. A few yards up, he could see his friend, Foley, preparing to fuse a barrel.

  Foley concentrated on the task in hand, he had heard a bit of a noise and a yell, but had supposed someone had dropped something. The sound of Dewdrop and Rose coming around the corner made him look up.

  ‘Shit,’ exclaimed Foley, as it dawned on him that things were not going to plan.

  The red mist descended on Dewdrop as he saw his friend from the beginning of his time in the service, who now seemed to be trying to blow up that very service and quite probably taking a good few feelers with it. He hurtled towards Foley with his truncheon gripped in both hands.

  Foley now decided that absence should be his preferred option.

  The dormitories and training rooms were a labyrinth of passages, making it an easy place to get lost. With Dewdrop and Rose hard on his heels, Foley took a surprising left turn. Dewdrop had raised his arm to take a swing when Foley dodged down the corridor, the manoeuvre giving him a couple of extra yards. Dewdrop recovered well and bounced against the wall, still keeping in front of Rose as he continued the chase.

  As he ran forward, Foley could see the other end of the corridor and let out a little squeal as he saw the commander and three girls run past the end. He decided on another evasion as a right hand turn loomed up. He sped around the corner and then dived into a lecture room, sped across and went out the other side, turned a left and then into a mock-up of a courtroom. A girl looked up in surprise as he stormed in.

  Felicity, hurriedly checking for barrels, looked up when the door opposite crashed open. She saw a young lad rush in and froze for a second as her brain digested the information that this lad was not one of us, so must be one of them. She yelped just as Foley grabbed her.

  Dewdrop and Rose stormed in a second or so later and skidded to a halt.

  Foley began to panic, he expected the courtroom to be clear and the fact that a girl stood there made him do something out of character. He grabbed her and pulled out a knife.

  Tiffany had heard the yelp and rushed in to see a lad grab her friend. She stood in shock for a moment, but as she began to calm down, she realised that she blocked his only means of escape.

  Foley pointed the knife at Dewdrop. ‘No further, Cecil. I’m serious here.’

  ‘So am I. Let her go, Foley.’

  Foley had his arm wrapped around Felicity, and even though he held her as a hostage, he had never been this close and intimate with a girl. He wasn’t prepared for the impact it would have on his mind as all kinds of pent up feelings of frustration coursed through him as he held the girl, feelings that had been deeply buried, but now flooded to the surface.

  Tiffany twitched as if to spring but Rose held out a hand to stop her. Dewdrop had learnt a few things and he now attempted to control the situation.

  ‘We know all about what you’re doing,’ said Dewdrop. ‘Everything. It’s not going to happen.’

  Foley gripped Felicity even harder and the smell of her rushed up his nose. He felt her hair brush against his cheek, her body pressing close to his, and he longed for it to have happened under different circumstances.

  Dewdrop advanced little by little, footstep by footstep, his senses tuned to the events. He knew Foley as a shy awkward lad, but now he would have to revise his opinion, or did he?

  Tears began to fill Foley’s eyes and a look of pain crossed his face, and then Dewdrop knew that Foley would never hurt Felicity.

  ‘Don’t come any closer, Cecil.’

  ‘Sorry, Foley, you’ve lost.’

  Dewdrop had manoeuvred within striking distance and he swung his arm down with a quick snap. He hit the hand holding the knife, forcing it down and away from Felicity. He then sprang forward to grip the wrist before Foley had a chance to bring it back up.

  Felicity remembered the training she had from Rose, and as Dewdrop wrestled the knife out of his hand, she raised her
elbow and snapped it back, straight into Foley’s face. He grunted and then he grunted again as she spun around and kicked him right in the soft spot.

  Tiffany then dived in too and Foley found that he had the attention of two very attractive girls, but unfortunately, he wasn’t in a state to enjoy it.

  Dewdrop held the knife as Rose stepped forward and cuffed Foley. He felt sorry for his now former friend, but he had made the wrong choice. He sniffed derisively, and then threw the knife into the corner.

  Like a hurricane, Frankie blew through the corridors; Bragwin, Mindy and Gladys were like the storm that followed, their faces set in determination. They rounded a bend and saw a figure stooped over a barrel, and as he turned his head, they could recognise him — Loovis.

  As Loovis stood up, he pulled out a knife, grimacing in distaste as Frankie came towards him. He then slashed the fuse to cut it short, and then calmly produced a match. A couple of strikes produced a flame, and then the fuse took.

  Loovis grinned evilly and then sprinted off down the corridor as Frankie and the girls gave chase. At the other end, MacGillicudy came around, and Loovis skidded to a halt, he had nowhere else to go as all the doors were beyond both Frankie and MacGillicudy; he realised he was trapped.

  The barrel’s fuse sizzled.

  Frankie knew he had to make the barrel safe. ‘Run,’ he ordered the girls. ‘Get the bastard.’

  Eyeing the barrel warily, the girls sprinted past. They’d heard what a little one could do and this one wasn’t little. The three of them advanced on Loovis, with MacGillicudy and Hettie coming from the other direction.

  Frankie struggled frantically to get the fuse out, but as Loovis had cut it so close, he couldn’t get hold of it. There were only seconds left — and then the thing would go bang.

  He thought quickly and turned to the door behind him, kicking it open. He knew Tiffany and Felicity were at the other end of the building, so he grabbed the barrel in both hands and lobbed it in. Just as he shut the door, the fuse reached the powder, and then the bang began.

  The noise and the blast sent tremors throughout the floor. Ceilings rattled, flakes cascaded down, the floorboards jumped, and the door that Frankie had just shut, burst out in a storm of splinters. The sound was deafening.

  As the bang went off Loovis crouched protectively but the girls and MacGillicudy just briefly stumbled, giving them the advantage.

  MacGillicudy’s truncheon said hello to Loovis’s head as Hettie jumped forward and swiped the knife from out of his hand. Gladys then weighed in with her boot, and the final blow from Bragwin rendered him unconscious.

  ‘You all right, Frankie?’ yelled MacGillicudy.

  ‘Bloody hell, that was close,’ replied Frankie, as he looked up from where he lay. He saw a bit of movement. ‘Jethro, behind you,’ he shouted in warning.

  MacGillicudy turned quickly and saw a figure dashing down the corridor and away from them. A second later, he saw the figure dive through another door that led down to the cellars.

  CHAPTER 35

  ‘The bastard’s locked it,’ said MacGillicudy.

  ‘Where does it lead to?’ asked Frankie, still covered in dust and plaster.

  ‘Down to the cellars, where we had the old bar.’

  Frankie put his shoulder to the door but, apart from the confetti still raining down, nothing moved. ‘Bugger, better get the key,’ he said, and then ran off back down the corridor.

  Regina and Hope were standing next to Magot as Frankie rounded the corner. They’d cuffed Magot and had laid him face down next to the pile of barrels, but as Frankie came into sight, they could see a look cross his face.

  ‘Behind you,’ he shouted. ‘Get the bastard.’

  Sergeant Wiggins ambled into the corridor with a clipboard in his hand and, at the shout, looked up.

  Regina and Hope reacted without thought and dived onto Wiggins before he could turn and run. The clipboard went flying as they pummelled him. Fists flew and nails scratched, then Wiggins fell under the onslaught.

  The two girls had pinned Wiggins to the floor by the time Frankie arrived.

  ‘Good work, girls, that’s another of the bastards.’ He shook his head. ‘Never would have thought Wiggins would be involved.’

  Wiggins groaned.

  ‘Cuff him and put him with Magot,’ he ordered, as he picked up the key.

  Cornwallis eased through the tunnel with Olive and Winnie close behind. They were catching up with the figures ahead as they rolled the barrels towards the cellars. The lanterns they carried cast an eerie glow and the rumblings of the barrels reverberated through the floor. It looked and felt ominous.

  He didn’t have time to formulate a plan and he acted on instinct rather than sense, but now he thought about it, perhaps he should had thought about it before. Having got himself and the girls into this position he now had to do something about it. Just the three of them against only the Gods knew how many. It didn’t look promising, unless he had some more help.

  Up ahead, he heard the noise of a chain rattling and then the rumbling noise of the barrels fell away. Cornwallis stopped and crouched; the girls did the same.

  Sounds of voices funnelled into the tunnel, but it sounded as an incoherent mumble with nothing discernible. They listened for a full minute before easing themselves forward once again, frustrated that they were unable to hear anything of use.

  A couple of minutes later they came to the mouth of the tunnel and they stopped, not daring to go any further. Now they could tell where the chain noise came from — they had arrived at an opening with a dull light illuminating from outside. Cornwallis drew close to Olive and Winnie and spoke ever so softly into their ears.

  ‘You stay here. Keep low and flat and don’t make a sound. I’m going to see what we can do. Don’t move unless it’s to run away. I’ll shout for you if and when I need you. Understand?’

  Olive and Winnie nodded. Both girls were now well out of their comfort zone, but they still tingled with excitement and anticipation.

  Cornwallis returned the nods and smiled before easing forward.

  It was quite a large room, dirty and dusty but very empty. He could see the chain right by his ear and he eased away from it, careful not to touch it. Ahead, he could see a wall and another to his left, so he surmised that there must be a door leading out to his right. He tentatively poked his nose out into the void to look. He could see the door that led to the rest of the cellars and the feelers considerately left a lantern on the floor just outside the door.

  He thought of the girls behind him and then quickly scrambled back.

  ‘Come on, it’s a room and it’s empty.’

  ‘What are we going to do, Mr Cornwallis?’ asked Olive.

  ‘Stop them blowing the place up,’ he replied. ‘But just don’t ask me how at the moment.’

  They crept out and ran over to the far wall and flattened themselves against it, and then dashed diagonally over towards the door. They could see the tunnel entrance clearly now, it had a slab of stone raised above it and controlled by the chains. They were right beside the door that led out of the room and Cornwallis took the risk to look.

  There were corridors both straight ahead and to his left, and both were empty; but now he could hear voices, and they were much clearer.

  ‘Put three there and stack them properly.’

  Cornwallis hadn’t heard that voice for quite some time. It was Grinde’s, and it echoed down the corridor on the left.

  Cornwallis signalled the girls to stay and he tiptoed out. He eased forward into the left corridor and saw a door to the right just up a bit. He came close and the voice sounded louder.

  ‘Not like that. Two together, one on top.’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant.’

  ‘MacGillicudy has made you soft in the head. I’ll soon change that when I’m back in charge.’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant.’

  ‘You over there: what do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Lighting the fu
se.’

  ‘Not yet, you idiot. I'll tell you when.’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant,’ came the reply.

  Cornwallis risked a peek.

  It wasn’t a room; it was an enormous open space, a chamber in fact. Massive columns ran in straight lines across, three rows of them, and against each one, they had placed barrels. Over on the other side, he could see another door with movement beyond it, and some men were rolling barrels towards it.

  He looked at the men and felt his loathing rise. These were feelers, some of whom he’d worked with, some of whom he’d joked with, and some of whom he’d shared a brew with. If he felt like this, then only the Gods knew how MacGillicudy must be feeling.

  Seeing the feelers he knew so well setting the barrels, no, the bombs; he remembered the word that Fred the alchemist used to describe them, made him shudder. They were about to blow up the Yard with everyone still inside; most likely some would die. They would be killing their colleagues, their friends, and they didn’t appear to have any sense of compassion or pity or remorse.

  Sprat bounded up to Grinde. ‘How many do we put on the main wall through there?’

  Grinde consulted a piece of paper. ‘Five on that one.’

  Sprat nodded and sprinted off.

  Grinde looked around. He gave a grin which boarded on a grimace and then gave a curt nod. ‘You,’ and he pointed to a feeler on the far side. ‘Sort the rest of it out. It’s nearly done here. The rest of you come with me.’ He set his shoulders and marched off crisply, following in the footsteps of Sprat.

  Cornwallis vaguely knew the feeler who they left behind, but struggled to remember his name. It didn’t really matter, and he didn’t really care; he knew, though, that the feeler probably knew him.

  Olive and Winnie were keeping their eyes on Cornwallis and moved as soon as they saw his hand twitch. They were by his side a second later.

  ‘Quietly kick the shit out of him,’ he said in a whisper.