Bandits, Dirt Bikes & Trash, page 14
33. IT’S ALL FAKE ON TV
The two tankers left the truck stop, Oluchi stood on the grass mound to record her intro, then Paul the director and three camera operators spent ten minutes filming close-ups of Robin. These would be edited together to make a cool sequence of Robin removing sunglasses, then putting on a leather biker jacket, gloves and helmet, before straddling the bright yellow dirt bike and blasting off into the late afternoon sun.
The director had planned out a dramatic storyline, with shots of Robin tracking the tankers on his bike intercut with a 3D map showing their progress, while Darrel Snubs would add a lively voiceover.
All this would look cool on the telly, but realistically a kid riding a bright yellow dirt bike along the busy eight-lane Route 24 would result in dozens of concerned motorists calling the cops. And there was no need to follow the tankers closely because the signal from the tracking devices could be picked up from ten kilometres away.
Once the director had enough fake footage, Robin helped Luke roll the two dirt bikes back into the van, then took a less glamorous ride in the middle seat of the production van. Oluchi sat in the other passenger seat, while make-up guy Larry drove.
For safety reasons, the law restricted heavy chemical-filled tankers to eighty kilometres per hour, and there were weight limits on many of Locksley’s dilapidated bridges. While the two tankers lumbered along main roads, the convoy of three TV vans and two seven-seat people carriers overtook the tankers on Route 24 and shaved twenty minutes off their journey time by cutting through housing estates and country roads.
The South Range landfill site was north of Locksley, less than a kilometre from Sherwood Forest. The name came from the land’s original use as an army firing range, and as the convoy of TV people skimmed past its buckled, rusted perimeter fence, Robin saw aged yellow signs with pictures of tanks and DANGER: UNEXPLODED SHELLS written underneath.
‘I wonder if anyone got blown up when they dug the hole to make a landfill?’ Robin asked.
He didn’t expect an answer, but got one from Oluchi in the passenger seat. ‘I actually looked into that. The government spent millions clearing up all the unexploded ordnance. Then Gisborne bought the land for a fraction of what it was worth.’
Robin snorted. ‘I bet some corrupt general retired to the Caribbean with a few suitcases stuffed with Gisborne’s cash.’
Unlike Mile End Landfill, with its kilometres of neat fencing and uniformed staff coordinating the lines of carts dumping trash, South Range was a much older facility with a shabby vibe and just a pair of maintenance trucks parked in the concourse behind the main gate.
‘At least it doesn’t stink like Mile End,’ Oluchi noted. ‘This site is officially retired. All the dumps are capped with soil and they’re only licensed to bring in waste to deal with settlement.’
‘Settlement?’ Robin asked curiously. ‘Like if trash rots down and a hole opens up?’
‘Exactly,’ Oluchi agreed. ‘But I got the Super to dig up satellite images from the last month, and there are still trucks and tankers stopping here every day. It’s less than what gets dumped at Mile End in ten minutes, but if you want to ditch something toxic or illegal, they do it here where there aren’t hundreds of potential witnesses.’
Larry the make-up guy led the five-vehicle convoy on for another couple of kilometres, then steered tentatively off-road and down a rutted gravel track with overhanging branches that clattered against the sides of the van.
‘How near is Sherwood Forest?’ Larry asked nervously, as they passed a trio of burnt-out barns and swampy fields that were no longer farmed due to persistent flooding.
‘A couple of hundred metres from the official boundary,’ Robin said, amused by Larry’s nervousness. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll look after you.’
The crest of a hill brought a sloping grass field and a ragtag gathering into view. There were more TV production vans, similar to the one Robin was riding in, two four-wheel drives that were too clean to belong to anyone who lived out here, three bright orange Forest Ranger trucks and, absurdly, a metallic silver truck, its long trailer fitted with air-conditioning units and blacked-out windows.
Robin’s boots splattered mud up his trousers as he jumped out of the van behind Oluchi, then squelched as he swung around to grab his backpack and bow from the cargo compartment. He was amused to see Mr Khan and a few other rebels wearing Forest Ranger uniform, while bored-looking Brigands with rifles stood around the edge of the field for security.
As Robin overheard one of the TV people tell Oluchi that the tankers were still twenty minutes away, he was approached by a tall woman with a large tablet PC. She had a fashion model’s spindly limbs and chiselled features, and rattled off words like machine-gun bullets.
‘Robin Hood, I’m Mia, personal assistant to Mr Snubs. He has a seven-minute window and he’s extremely keen to see you in his trailer before we film the sequence where you meet for the first time and hug it out.’
Robin had thought the TV stuff would be cool, but it was actually super fake and irritating. ‘Seven whole minutes,’ he said, unable to hide a smirk. ‘I’m truly honoured.’
Mia didn’t appreciate the sarcasm and slipped as she tried to lift her flowery-patterned boot out of the mud. It took all Robin’s strength to grasp Mia’s upper arm and stop her falling in the dirt, but instead of a thank you she gave Robin a how dare you touch me? scowl.
‘I signed up to work for a comedian,’ Mia growled to herself as she squelched off towards the big silver trailer with a bemused Robin in tow. ‘The only mud in my life should be a face pack in a beauty salon.’
34. A MINOR GLITCH
Robin had never met a big celebrity before and felt awkward as he stood on a tarp in front of the trailer, unlacing his muddy boots.
‘Don’t sweat over the mud, kid,’ Darrell Snubs said, beaming and confident as he kicked open the trailer’s big silver door, dressed in tight leather trousers, a leopard-print waistcoat over his bare chest, and his trademark gold chains. ‘I have assistants who deal with dirt.’
Robin enjoyed Mia’s furious expression as he stomped mud up the steps and into the lavishly appointed trailer. The area by the entrance was a kitchen full of fancy appliances, while a little sausage dog napped in a basket shaped like a giant bone.
Beyond the kitchen was a lounge with recliner chairs and an elaborately lit bar with racks of coloured bottles. At the far end Robin glimpsed, through sliding doors, a room with mirrored walls and a bed covered in fur quilts.
‘Nice crib,’ Robin observed as he glanced about, although he couldn’t help feeling that driving around rural roads in this monstrous silver trailer wasn’t the best way to keep things under wraps.
‘You’ve got your famous bow,’ Snubs said as he stepped through to the lounge and flopped down in a recliner chair. ‘Do take the weight off.’
‘Bow never leaves my side,’ Robin explained, getting swallowed by a huge puffy armchair while Snubs picked up a remote and turned off a TV playing a thrash metal video. ‘Except weapons aren’t allowed in school.’
‘I was speaking to my director, Paul,’ Snubs said. ‘I thought it might be fun to shoot a kind of cute buddy sequence with the two of us. You know, where you show me how to use a bow and arrow. Or maybe you could do some archery stunt type thing.’
‘I thought this new show was serious,’ Robin said, as he noticed the muddy boot prints he’d left across a furry rug. ‘Politics, protestors and stuff.’
Snubs leaned forward in his chair and sounded more intense. ‘I’m trying to push limits with Truth to Power. Serious issues, done in an entertaining way. I want to raise awareness among people who wouldn’t read a newspaper or watch old farts interviewed on some politics show.’
‘I could do the classic skit and shoot an apple off your head,’ Robin suggested. ‘It’s a super easy shot, but I bet your director could make it look dramatic, with slow motion and stuff.’
‘You’re a little genius!’ Snubs said, clapping his hands and bouncing in his chair like a toddler who needed the toilet. ‘It would be amazing for the episode trailer, or we could do it as a standalone bit to push out on my social media channels.
‘I can do an intro to camera with an apple on my head. Then the arrow hits in slow motion and the camera swings around to reveal that it was fired by you.’
Snubs looked excitedly at his assistant, who’d just appeared in the lounge doorway. ‘Mia, I need you to get Paul in here. We need to set up and shoot an extra sequence with Robin for a trailer.’
Mia shook her head sharply. ‘Darrell, you need your boots on and your wireless mic fitted. The tankers are less than ten minutes away and Paul wants you in shot when we film the Forest Ranger trucks heading out to set up the roadblock.’
‘Aye, aye, boss lady,’ Snubs said, shooting out of the chair and saluting as Mia rushed back to the bedroom to find his boots. ‘Robin, I shall be back presently. There’s a ton of food in my fridge if you want a bite.’
Robin was hungry. When Snubs and Mia rushed out of the trailer, he opened a fridge stuffed with beers and fancy food platters. He wedged a savoury beef patty in his mouth and grabbed four king prawn skewers. But there was no way he was going to miss the action outside, so he jumped down the trailer’s front steps and ate as he crossed the thick mud towards the Forest Ranger trucks.
This part of the plan was simple and didn’t involve Robin. The Ranger trucks Mr Khan borrowed would be driven down to the road and used to create a fake roadblock. The tankers would be forced to stop and the drivers would be kicked out and replaced by two rebels, who’d drive the tankers to a safe hiding place and prepare them for the second phase of the plan.
Robin stayed in the background, leaning against one of the TV company’s people carriers as the three Forest Ranger trucks prepared to leave. Darrell Snubs and Oluchi stood side by side recording a bit to a camera, and Mr Khan fumed because a twenty-year-old TV production assistant was telling him not to leave until a camera operator was free to film his departure.
‘There isn’t time,’ Khan shouted, as he stood by an orange truck in a tan Ranger’s uniform in trousers that were way too tight. ‘If we don’t stop the tankers, this whole plan is a bust.’
Paul the director finally grasped that time was an issue. He told Darrell to run across to the Ranger trucks so they could show him in the thick of the action as they drove away. Amidst the chaos, a runner from the TV crew gave Mia a large video light to carry and Robin cracked up laughing as she overbalanced and went sideways into the mud.
Mr Khan started the engine of the lead truck, but only drove ten metres before there were three loud bangs that shredded his front tyre.
‘What was that?’ Snubs shouted, as he squatted down on his haunches. ‘Is that gunfire?’
Everyone hit the muddy ground as more sharp cracks shot across the field, followed by the dazzling white blast from a pair of stun grenades.
Robin shuddered and took cover in thick mud under a people carrier, but the grenade had dazzled him and all he could see was a blue-white blur. The arrows sticking out of his backpack snagged the underside of the vehicle and his trousers stuck to the wet ground as he tried to work out which direction the attack was coming from.
After a few long blinks Robin started to get some vision back. There was nobody near him, but it was chaos around the Ranger trucks thirty metres away. Fake Rangers and terrified TV people squatted on the ground, while at least eight bandits with guns and body armour charged in to surround them.
‘On your knees, hands on head!’
‘Money, phones and car keys, or we’ll shoot holes in you.’
More bandits, including a trailing pack of grubby forest kids, charged into the field and began looting equipment from TV production vans. When Robin looked the other way, he saw two women with shotguns entering Snubs’ silver trailer.
The site perimeter was supposed to have been secured by the Brigands, but they were a disorganised bunch and Robin wasn’t entirely surprised that they’d disappeared into hedges around the field at the first sign of trouble.
None of the bandits seemed to have spotted Robin, but they’d surely try to steal the people carrier he was hiding under. And if they got their hands on Robin, their minds would turn to the half-a-million-pound bounty that Guy Gisborne had put on his head.
35. THE VIEW FROM ABOVE
The nearest cover was a thicket of trees and bushes fifty metres from Robin’s position. The blinding grenade flashes meant he still hadn’t worked out where the bandits came from, but the risk of staying put seemed greater than the risk of running into the bandits he was trying to get away from.
Nerves, thick mud and the tightness of the space under the car meant Robin took ages to pull three arrows and notch one ready to shoot. Big clumps of dirt slid down his trouser legs as he ran flat out for ten seconds and crashed into thick bushes.
He briefly considered running to the hedge around the field’s edge and heading north into the forest. This would guarantee his own safety, but down by the Ranger trucks the bandits were tearing off jewellery and roughing people up.
Mr Khan took a smack to the head as he resisted a guy with a gun demanding the password for his phone. Oluchi and a bunch of TV people had been ordered to hand over valuables, then got humiliated by being forced to lie face down in a puddle.
Darrell Snubs’ celebrity earned him special attention. He’d been stripped of his gold chains and blingy diamond watch, and was now the subject of a lively bandit debate on the merits of taking him hostage.
‘I hate bandits,’ Robin growled to himself as he began a rapid, expert tree-climb.
There were no leaves to give cover at this time of year, so he stuck close to the trunk. At twelve metres up, he straddled a thick branch and carefully surveyed the field.
The group of bandits debating Snubs’ kidnapping had grown bigger and louder. The women who’d entered his trailer were stuffing one of the TV crew’s four-wheel drives with designer clothes, jewellery and booze, while a boy no older than eight stumbled over muddy ground carrying three of the TV company’s pricy video-editing laptops.
The air of chaos made Robin confident that the bandit attack was an unplanned encounter. He thought it might be safest to stay hidden in the tree until the bandits stole all they could carry and vanished back into the forest. But the four Brigand guards who’d initially retreated had their own plan.
From his vantage point, Robin was first to see the bearded Brigands marching in a line. Three fired shotguns over the heads of the group around Darrell Snubs, while the fourth closed in on a truck and blasted a rifle round through its radiator as some bandits tried to drive it away. This was smart, because as well as stopping the truck, it blocked the single-lane track that was the only way a vehicle could leave the boggy field.
While the Brigands reloaded their weapons and took cover, most adult bandits and all of the kids scattered towards the hedges or into the forest with whatever they could carry. But a determined group remained close to Darrell and the Forest Ranger trucks.
The two female and three male bandits backed away from all their hostages, except Snubs, who got dragged by the biggest bandit as they took defensive positions behind the Ranger trucks. All five wore modern ballistic helmets and bulletproof vests, and held automatic rifles that gave them more firepower than the Brigand guards’ shotguns.
As Darrell Snubs tried sitting up and got a brutal boot in the ribs for his trouble, Robin saw a million ways that a standoff between angry Brigands and well-equipped bandits could end in a bloodbath.
His spot in the tree gave him a clear line of sight to the bandits crouching between Ranger trucks and their captives squirming in the mud nearby. He took aim at a beefy female bandit, whose position made her the easiest target.
Her bulletproof vest wasn’t a problem, because Robin knew they were designed to absorb the energy from bullets, which break up on impact, not knives or arrows, which penetrate with a sharp point.
For a minute that felt more like ten, the Brigands and hardcore bandits were locked in their uneasy standoff, while TV people shivered in the mud, too scared to move. Eventually, one bandit got so frustrated that he bobbed up over the hood of a Ranger truck and sprayed bullets randomly towards the last place he’d seen Brigands.
This was the distraction Robin needed. While several hostages screamed and one Brigand blasted back, he notched, aimed and fired four arrows in four seconds. The first hit the bandit who’d started shooting in the upper arm. Two speared the body armour of crouching bandits, while the last caught a bandit as he turned to run away, shattering his hip bone.
Robin had given his position away by firing the arrows, and he leaped out of the tree before any bandits could shoot back. As he landed in the mud after a four-metre drop, the emboldened Brigand guards launched another shotgun volley, while Mr Khan acted bravely, charging the bandit Robin had shot in the hip and ripping away his assault rifle.
Robin’s fast, accurate shooting had terrified the bandits. They didn’t know he’d already left his shooting position and, as the Brigands closed in, they began to scatter. He kept three arrows at the ready as he gave the hobbling bandits time to clear the scene, then he sprinted towards the Forest Ranger trucks.
The captives were shocked and shivering, and a couple vomited as they stood up. They’d lost their phones, money and valuable equipment from the production vans, but so far as Robin could tell there were only two moderate injuries.
The first was a cameraman whose leg had got burned when the stun grenade exploded next to him, while Darrell Snubs had taken a lick from everyone who wanted to be able to say they’d kicked a big-time celebrity, and had a bloody neck where his gold chains had been ripped off.
‘It’s OK, they’ve gone,’ Robin told Oluchi, when he found her squatting against the side of a trashed production van, soaked, shivering and tearful.
