Brigands M.C.

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘Cheers, boss,’ James smiled, and opened the kiosk door.

  But he only made five steps before his smile got wiped by a woman called Noelene. She had duty manager embroidered on a tight-fitting red polo shirt and she had the kind of sparkly, upbeat, hard working attitude that made her teenage workers hate her guts.

  ‘Where you going, James?’ she asked, with a heavy New Zealand accent.

  If James had engaged his brain he would have told Noelene that he was going to the larder fridge behind the diner to get fresh pancake batter or ice cream, but instead he mumbled weakly about going for a ten-minute break.

  ‘Oh no you’re not, sweetie pie,’ she grinned as she pointed into the diner with painted nails that matched her shirt. ‘I’ve got a big food order needs taking over to the Brigands clubhouse, right now. And look around and see how busy we are: there’s a dozen or more tables need cleaning. Do you think it’s right to swan off on a break when your co-workers are busy?’

  James huffed. ‘I’ll go get the food.’

  ‘I don’t like your attitude, Mr Raven,’ Noelene said as James sauntered towards the restaurant. ‘And pull your trousers up so that I can’t see your underwear. This isn’t a skateboard rink.’

  Skateboard park, you fat arse, James thought to himself. He stepped into the restaurant. The diner bustled with noise, and James nodded to a couple of Lauren and Dante’s mates as his nose caught the smell of frying oil and pickles. There was a two-tier serving trolley stacked with donut boxes, fried chicken, burgers and also foil dishes from the Chinese restaurant at the upmarket end of the promenade.

  A black chef came out of the kitchen and squeezed on three large pizza boxes. ‘Better run with that,’ he grinned. ‘You serve cold food to the Brigands and they might just stick a boot in your arse.’

  ‘Gotcha,’ James said.

  The clubhouse wasn’t far, but it was only when James got outside that he realised he couldn’t take the trolley downstairs. He had to take a tortuous route down a long disabled ramp at the front of the building and then walk all the way around the shops before going back to the clubhouse at the rear.

  Five minutes had passed by the time he’d got inside the clubhouse and crossed the deserted main hall. A few Brigands prospects, girlfriends and members of puppet gangs sat at the clustered tables where Lauren had been embarrassed by the Führer two Saturdays earlier. The full-patch members were meeting in a back room and James felt anxious as he knocked.

  The door opened and the Führer roared ‘Boy!’ from his seat at the head of the table.

  Cigarette smoke curled up towards the ceiling. More than twenty Brigands sat in walnut-trimmed leather chairs. It could have been a corporate boardroom, but for their clothes and the array of medieval weapons and torture implements displayed along the side wall.

  The trolley wheels dug into thick green carpet as James pushed it towards the Führer. He recognised Teeth and noted the presence of Sealclubber and two other London Brigands, which almost certainly meant that they’d brought the next forty per cent instalment of the money for the weapons deal.

  James was freaked as the Führer stood up, ripped a twenty-centimetre blade out of his boot and stepped up to face James off.

  ‘Is this everything we ordered?’ he demanded. ‘Is it piping hot?’

  To James’ alarm, another Brigand stood up behind him and pulled an even bigger knife. ‘I didn’t cook it,’ James bumbled. ‘But I ran over here as fast as I could.’

  He tried to rationalise that even the Brigands wouldn’t randomly stab some teenager who’d been sent to deliver their food, but it still wasn’t easy to feel comfortable being hemmed in by two crazy men holding out huge knives.

  The Führer flipped open a pizza box, skewered a slice of Hawaiian with the end of his blade and took a bite off the end.

  ‘Tepid,’ the Führer complained, and grabbed James’ Marina Heights polo shirt.

  The other Brigands all hissed. ‘Kill the delivery boy,’ one shouted, but a few were giggling which pretty much gave the game away.

  The Führer held the knife at head height, right in front of James’ eyes. ‘This time I’ll show you mercy, but next time you bring my food you’d better be out of breath.’

  As the Führer said this, he plunged the knife into the plaster behind James’ head and let the handle go. As James backed away from the swaying knife, the Brigand standing behind told James to cup his hands, then passed over a pile of coins and a couple of five-pound notes. James guessed it was at least twenty quid.

  ‘Your tip,’ the Brigand explained.

  ‘You didn’t handle yourself too badly either,’ the Führer laughed. ‘Remember that kid we had down on his knees, begging us not to kill him?’

  Laughter rolled around the room as James quickly transferred all of the food boxes on to the table and backed towards the door with his empty trolley. When he got out of the room all the drinkers sitting at the tables were looking his way.

  ‘They give you a hard time?’ smiled a sweet-looking woman in a tight pink top. ‘They like having their fun when a new delivery boy comes through the door.’

  James didn’t appreciate having a roomful of leather-clad nutters waving knives in his face, but his job was to make friends with as many bikers as he could and that meant he had to find their jokes funny. He nodded, smiled and acted like it was no big deal as he pushed the empty trolley towards the exit.

  When he was almost at the main door a vaguely familiar face emerged from the gents in front of him. He wore an odd mix of studenty-retro clothes, including tight black cords, a long scarf and a three-quarter-length leather jacket with a Monster Bunch patch on the back. James nodded to him.

  ‘Are you James?’ the man asked. ‘I’m Nigel’s brother.’

  James saw the resemblance as they shook hands. ‘It’s Will, right? Back from uni?’

  ‘Got home yesterday morning,’ Will said. ‘My brother said you were interested in running your bike up to Cambridge for the Rebel Tea Party.’

  James nodded. ‘I’d love to give her a proper run, but Nigel’s only got two-fifty cc so I guess it’s a non-starter.’

  Will shrugged. ‘I offered Nigel a ride in my mate’s car, but he says he’s got something going on this weekend anyway. He says you’re cool though, so you can ride behind the Monster Bunch if you like. I can’t be your nursemaid, but I’ll introduce you to lots of faces and once you get known by the other members, who knows where it’ll lead?’

  James wanted to go on the run, not just for the good of the mission but also as an excuse to take a long ride on his bike. ‘Sounds really great,’ he smiled, while trying not to sound too excited. ‘I’ll have to clear it with my mum but I’m sure she’ll be cool.’

  26. TEXT

  Lauren, Joe, Dante and Anna spent most of their spare time hanging together. They’d taken the train to Exeter to go shopping, they’d been to the cinema and Joe even spent a Sunday morning at the beach trying to teach Lauren how to surf. On weekdays things were more mundane: going to school and doing homework together afterwards.

  If the weather was good they’d go to the beach most evenings, usually hanging with other kids from school in a rowdy group that caused strolling couples to cross the street to avoid them. After the beach they’d walk up to Marina Heights and get something to eat from the kiosks.

  The road between the beach and Marina Heights was paved, but it zigzagged to minimise the slope. The kids always took a more direct route, cutting across sandbanks, ignoring a falling rocks sign, hopping over a wall and then scrambling up a steep pathway.

  There had been accidents over the years and several kids, including Joe, were banned by their mums but used the path anyway. Girls could excuse themselves if they had heels or sandals on, but any boy taking the safe route left himself open to merciless ribbing.

  As usual, the boys had raced ahead taking precarious shortcuts, shoving each other and making loads of noise. Lauren and Anna walked the path with three
other girls, placing their trainers carefully on the crumbling earth and talking about a handsome student art teacher.

  ‘Everyone fancies Mr Zipf,’ Anna noted. ‘But he’s kind of gross. I mean the way he flirts with that group of Year Eleven girls is blatant.’

  ‘He’s a man though,’ Lauren said. ‘All men are basically hairy balls of sperm.’

  Lauren’s friends all laughed.

  ‘I’d rather have your brother James than Mr Zipf,’ a girl called Penny said. ‘He can make me a crêpe any day.’

  ‘It’s the apron,’ Anna nodded. ‘Guys in aprons are sexy.’

  ‘Don’t talk about my brother like that,’ Lauren shuddered. ‘Eww.’

  Dante, Joe and two other boys were sitting on a roadside crash barrier at the top of the path about fifteen metres further up.

  ‘I’m starving,’ Dante complained. ‘Move those fat cans, you skanks.’

  Before Lauren could return the abuse she was distracted by a text message from Rat: Can we AT LEAST talk?

  Lauren wasn’t sure if she was going to make up with Rat when she got back to campus, but she had decided to make him sweat and deleted the message without replying.

  Once the nine kids had stepped over the crash barrier, they crossed Marina Heights’ single-lane exit road, then ran up a grass embankment and on to the promenade. One of Joe’s mates risked the wrath of the security staff by taking a run and shooting off on his skateboard.

  ‘Show off,’ Joe said, as he tried to slip his arm around Lauren’s back. But Anna grabbed Lauren’s arm and tugged her out of reach.

  ‘We need the bathroom,’ Anna said forcefully. ‘See you upstairs by the kiosks, boys.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘Undo your buttons,’ Anna said. ‘Show some cleavage.’

  Lauren realised they were heading towards Anna’s brother Nigel and his friend Julian. ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘I need to borrow money off Nigel,’ Anna explained. ‘And it’s been scientifically proven that a boy’s IQ drops by thirty points when he can see breasts.’

  ‘What’s wrong with your breasts?’ Lauren said indignantly.

  ‘Nigel’s my brother!’ Anna said. ‘That’d be creepy.’

  Lauren reluctantly undid the top two buttons of her shirt as they approached Julian and Nigel, who seemed to be involved in an intense debate.

  ‘You don’t need the money,’ Julian said to Nigel. ‘I’ll pay you back.’

  ‘I need someone with a car,’ Nigel said. ‘Come on, I’ll wipe half your debt and front you half an ounce of spliff on credit. That’s a bloody good deal.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Julian said, shaking his curly locks. ‘Gimme a second.’

  Lauren realised that a biker associate like Nigel talking about money and cars might be an interesting lead. Unfortunately Anna interrupted them.

  ‘Hey, Nigel,’ she said sweetly.

  ‘Piss off, Anna,’ Nigel snapped. ‘I already told you, I’m not lending you money.’

  ‘Come on,’ Anna begged. ‘I’m so broke.’

  Nigel looked at Lauren. ‘You’ve got half your shirt buttons undone,’ he smiled. ‘You’ll have a bunch of pervs ogling you.’

  Anna thumped her brother on the arm as Lauren sheepishly did her buttons up. ‘Nigel, if you don’t lend me twenty quid, I’m gonna tell Mum where you keep your stash and that you’re skipping school tomorrow to deliver something very naughty with Curly there.’

  Nigel scowled at his sister. ‘How’d you know about that?’

  Anna grinned. ‘Well, if you take a message on the pad beside the telephone and write with a biro, you can read every word on the next sheet.’

  ‘Oh shit,’ Nigel gasped. ‘Please tell me you tore that off before Mum saw it.’

  Anna smiled. ‘Of course I did,’ she said. ‘Because brothers and sisters help one another out when they need each other, don’t they?’

  Nigel reluctantly pulled his wallet from the back of his jeans and handed Anna two ten-pound notes.

  ‘Can I keep it?’ Anna asked.

  ‘I’ve gotta go, Nige,’ Julian said, as he backed away.

  ‘No you don’t, you slippery eel,’ Nigel said, grabbing Julian by the arm. ‘I’m not bullshitting, Julian. If you go back on what you promised I’m in the shit, and if you do, I’m selling your debt to Dirty Dave. See what happens if you don’t pay him what you owe.’

  Lauren was intrigued by Julian and Nigel’s mysterious and illegal activity, but Anna only cared about the money. ‘Can I keep it?’ she repeated, giving her sweetest little sister smile.

  ‘Keep it,’ Nigel groaned. ‘And Lauren, I won’t be in school tomorrow. Can you tell James to get me the homework sheets from my maths class tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Sure,’ Lauren nodded.

  ‘Oh I do love shaking down my big brothers,’ Anna grinned.

  ‘Fine, I’ll do it,’ Julian hissed at Nigel. ‘Just let go of me, you dick.’

  Lauren was struggling to work out what Nigel and Julian were up to and she pumped Anna for info as they headed upstairs to meet up with the boys.

  ‘What’s your brother doing tomorrow?’ Lauren asked.

  ‘Dunno exactly,’ Anna shrugged. ‘All I know is that some Brigand wants him to deliver something in Bristol. Julian was supposed to take him in his car, but he welched at the last minute.’

  Asking too many direct questions might seem suspicious, so Lauren tried a different tack. ‘What if your brother ends up in prison or something?’

  ‘He probably will,’ Anna said matter of factly, before cracking a smile. ‘Which means I can have the big bedroom.’

  Lauren laughed. ‘You’re cruel! But seriously? Is he into a lot of shit?’

  ‘He might be,’ Anna said, as they reached the top of the stairs. ‘Probably deeper than my older brother Will, truth told. And yes I do get scared, but I can’t run my brother’s life and what’s the point worrying about things you can’t control?’

  The information was too fresh for Lauren to have worked out all the consequences, but she needed to tell Chloe as soon as possible.

  ‘Back in a second,’ Lauren said, as she saw James standing in the crêperie. ‘I’ll go tell my brother about that worksheet thing before I forget.’

  Martin was outside clearing tables, so Lauren explained as much as she could while James cooked a pair of chocolate orange and pineapple crêpes and only charged her for one.

  ‘The car is what makes it interesting,’ James said. ‘Nigel’s a small-time drug dealer and you don’t need a car to deliver a few bags of cannabis.’

  ‘I’m going back over to try getting more info out of Anna,’ Lauren said, as she grabbed the two hot crêpes in their cardboard trays. ‘Can you disappear for a few minutes and go phone Chloe?’

  ‘I’ve got Noelene trying to bite a chunk out of my arse, but I’ll try,’ James said.

  *

  James phoned Chloe from the seclusion of Marina Heights’ disabled bathroom. She sounded positive about the information and said she’d call Ross Johnson and let him know what they’d decided to do. Ten minutes before his shift in the crêperie ended, Chloe called and said she was waiting in the car park.

  ‘Eww,’ Chloe said, as James climbed into the Range Rover beside her and closed the door. ‘You can smell that pancake batter on your clothes.’

  ‘Ashley moans about that as well,’ James nodded.

  ‘Does your Marina Heights security pass get you down into the car park under Marina View?’ Chloe asked as she placed a small paper bag in James’ lap.

  ‘Sure,’ James nodded. He unravelled the bag. It contained a black box with two buttons, a screw-top jar filled with brown gloop, a device that looked like a staple gun and a smaller grey box.

  ‘You recognise everything in the bag?’ Chloe asked.

  ‘Except the brown stuff,’ James said.

  ‘It’s mud from our garden mixed with a couple of egg yolks to make it dry on hard.
Rub it on the number plate.’

  ‘Gotcha,’ James said. ‘By the way, I saw Sealclubber in the clubhouse with the Führer earlier, so I’m guessing that they came down with George’s two hundred and fifty grand.’

  Chloe nodded. ‘George had a meeting in London before Sealclubber left. He said that his first batch of weapons will be delivered within a week.’

  ‘So what’s the plan for Nigel and Julian’s trip?’

  ‘Neil Gauche and one of our junior mission control staff will tail Julian’s car. We’ll also have backup from Devon police. Neil will listen to the conversations inside the car and decide whether to pull them over.’

  ‘Right,’ James said, as he popped the door open. ‘I’ll sort this lot out and see you back at home.’

  Chloe nodded. ‘You’d better clear out, I’m supposed to pick up Lauren and Dante and a couple of their friends in five minutes.’

  James hopped out of the Range Rover and walked briskly along the promenade. It was ten past ten, so while the restaurants and bars upstairs were still moderately busy, the shops were all closed and the lower floor was deserted apart from a cleaning crew and a young couple making out on the grass verge between two rose bushes.

  James swiped his security pass at a recessed door between two shop fronts and walked down a corridor that ran behind the shops. The floor and walls were bare concrete, and pipes and electrical cables hung from the ceiling centimetres above his head.

  He’d only been down here once before, on his first day when Teeth took him to blast graffiti. A door at the end of the corridor opened on to a set of metal steps. These led down into the secure parking area beneath the Marina View apartments where Julian lived.

  Each parking bay was assigned to a specific apartment, so James easily found Julian’s red Fiat parked next to a Jaguar XF that belonged to his father. James knew that one security man watched the whole Marina Heights complex, so his concern was being detected by a civilian rather than by the CCTV cameras at the end of each line of cars.

  James pulled the small black box from his jeans and pressed the button. Chloe had pre-programmed the device to send out a master radio frequency that would unlock Julian’s car. James was reassured by a flash of Julian’s indicator lights.