Bandits, Dirt Bikes & Trash, page 16
Gisborne’s anger simmered beneath his attempt to sound like a politician. ‘My waste management companies meet the highest international standards for recycling and environmental protection. Now, I don’t know how you got hold of my private number, but if you wish to discuss this matter further you need to call my press officer Caroline at the Locksley campaign office.’
Gisborne sounded like he was about to end the call, so Snubs spoke super fast. ‘But PLEASE! Mr Gisborne, I happen to be in your neighbourhood this evening. I’m a few minutes from your house and I’ve been told you’re driving home. Could I just drop by and straighten this whole thing out?’
‘How do you know where I am?’ Gisborne snapped.
‘I’m happy to bring biscuits,’ Snubs joked. ‘Are you a fruit shortcake or a chocolate digestive kind of guy?’
‘You’re having me followed?’
‘I am a guy who knows a lot of things about you,’ Snubs said cockily.
‘You want to be careful about any allegations you make,’ Gisborne growled. ‘I have a lot of friends in this town.’
Snubs laughed. ‘Was that a threat, Mr Gisborne? You really don’t want me to drop by your house with a packet of delicious biscuits?’
Gisborne grunted and hung up his phone. Snubs snapped the flip phone shut and looked directly into the camera.
‘Well, viewers, it seems that Mr Gisborne didn’t want me to visit his house, but do you know what? I think we’re going to do that anyway.’
39. BLACK BESS II
Gisborne looked spooked as he sat behind the wheel of the deafening 800-horsepower customised Mercedes G-Wagon that he’d named Black Bess II. He considered abandoning his drive home and going back to Wally’s or his office in town. But he was worried about his wife.
‘Dawn,’ Gisborne said sharply when she answered the phone. ‘That dumbass comedian Darrell Snubs is on my back. If anyone comes near the house before I get home, don’t open the gate, don’t answer the door. Better still, turn out the lights so it looks like nobody’s home.’
The road was dark as Gisborne took a long look in his rear-view mirror to see if he was being tailed. Then he called his political campaign manager to see if she had any idea why a stand-up comedian was interested in his waste management company. But it was late and the call went to voicemail.
‘When you get this message, call me right back!’ Gisborne shouted.
He called Locksley’s Chief of Police next, telling her to gather up every spare officer and send them to his house as soon as possible. Then he called up one of his nastiest thugs and made the same request.
‘Remember I’m running for sheriff. Make sure you smash all their cameras before teaching them a lesson.’
Gisborne glanced warily in all directions as Black Bess II pulled up at the heavy front gate of his North Locksley home. The large, modern house stood behind high walls on a three-acre plot. There was an elaborate marble fountain on the driveway and a line of five luxury cars at the grand front entrance.
Everything felt normal as Gisborne waited for the electronic gate to open. As he rolled up the short gravel driveway, he saw his wife, Dawn, peeking out of an upstairs window dressed in her yoga gear.
Gisborne opened his side window to give her a reassuring wave, then pushed the button on the little box clipped to his sun visor to close the gate. But instead of closing, the gate jerked and clanked.
Gisborne began to suspect that something was about to go down. He gave the button another push, but got the same useless clank.
A few hours earlier Katerina Kendall had called him to talk about a bizarre call she’d taken from a confused and babbling landfill site worker, who said that he’d been forced to barricade himself in his hut while a gang of Brigands hijacked a tanker truck waiting to dump its load at South Range landfill site.
They’d both brushed off the theft, because although smashing through a gate and stealing a tanker truck in broad daylight was odd, the Brigands were notoriously erratic and one of their main sources of income was stealing vehicles, stripping them down and selling the spare parts.
But now Darrell Snubs knew about the paint in the stolen truck. The comedian also mentioned that he’d read emails, listened to private phone conversations, and even knew that Gisborne was on his way home.
As these facts came together in Gisborne’s head, he saw signs of a complex plan. Though he had many enemies, the rebels at Sherwood Castle were the only ones capable of putting together something this sophisticated. While the hacking stuff meant that the person he hated most in the whole world was involved . . .
‘Robin Hood, that little turd!’ Guy Gisborne thundered to himself as he jumped out of Black Bess II and smashed the door shut.
Gisborne considered walking down the drive to close the sabotaged gate manually. But was that exactly what the rebels hoped he’d do?
Instead, he ran the other way to his front door, shuddering with fear as he imagined Robin Hood sitting in a nearby tree, an arrow aimed at his back.
Anxiety had mostly sobered Gisborne up, but he still fumbled and dropped his keys again as he tugged them out of his cluttered jacket pocket. As he bent down to pick them up, he sensed the headlight beams and clattering diesel engine of a tanker truck that had just turned into his street.
Before the key was in Gisborne’s front door, the growling tanker had swerved through the open gate onto his front drive. Luke judged the corner badly and knocked bricks out of Gisborne’s front wall. Then he swerved around the fountain and came to a gravel-spitting halt with the hiss of hydraulic brakes, the truck’s big front grille less than thirty centimetres from Gisborne’s matt-black Ferrari.
The rebels’ next move had been carefully choreographed and practised several times while the stolen tanker waited in the warehouse. Video lights strapped along both sides of the tanker were switched on by remote control. Camera and sound operators jumped out of a production van that had arrived behind the tanker, and an aerial photography team hiding in the neighbour’s garden launched a pair of camera drones to get overhead shots.
‘I’ve called the cops!’ Gisborne shouted towards the tanker as he tried opening his front door, only to find that whoever sabotaged his front gate had also filled his front door lock with fast-setting glue. ‘Wait and see what happens when you’re locked in a police cell!’
Robin Hood and Darrell Snubs arrived next, in a people carrier driven by Oluchi. As three camera operators and two drones filmed, the pair ran to the rear of the tanker, clambered up the narrow access ladder leading to the roof, then jogged along the top until they reached the cab.
Snubs had stuck with his bloodied action hero look, but Robin had chosen to play it safe and wore a combat helmet and a ballistic vest.
‘You won’t get away with this,’ Gisborne shouted as he squirmed in his front doorway, shielding his eyes from the blazing video lights.
‘How’s your balls, Gisborne?’ Robin asked cheerfully. ‘The one I didn’t shoot off the last time we met.’
‘How’s your daddy doing in jail?’ Gisborne taunted back. ‘Are you gonna kill me? You still haven’t got the guts.’
‘It wouldn’t be hard from this distance.’ Robin snorted and looked over his shoulder at his bow. ‘But unlike some people I could name, I’m not a cold-blooded murderer.’
‘And not in front of the cameras,’ Darrell Snubs added, desperate not to let Robin upstage him. ‘I already explained on the phone, Mr G. I just want a chat.’
‘Whatever,’ Gisborne spat.
‘I wanted to ask you about this tanker I’m standing on. The fifty thousand litres of toxic paint that’s inside it, and the phone calls I’ve heard, where you talk to Katerina Kendall about illegally disposing of two tankers of surplus paint as a favour to Sir Stanley Launcelot.’
Gisborne squirmed in the dazzling lights, but all he could think to say was a pathetic, ‘You are on private property.’
‘As a well-known comedian, activist and national treasure, I can’t be involved in any criminal activity,’ Darrell Snubs announced rather formally to the cameras, as he held his hands in the air. ‘I am documenting this situation and neither myself nor my production company are in any way responsible for what is about to happen. Though I do reserve the right to laugh my ass off.’
As Snubs spoke these words, which his lawyers hoped would keep him and his production company from getting sued for damages, Robin lay down on the tanker roof, reached into the gap between the tanker and its articulated truck, then twisted a release valve and pulled a big orange lever.
40. DARRELL THE MAGNIFICENT
The lever Robin pulled opened up two large circular ports, one on each side of the tanker. To maximise damage, the rebels had connected these to manure-spreading attachments, donated by a local farmer who Gisborne was trying to kick off his land to create another trash dump. These enabled paint to shoot twenty metres in a wide, spinning arc.
The jets of magnolia paint caught the bright video lights, creating a dazzling toxic fountain on either side of the tanker. Robin only got spattered by fine particles of paint as he stood up and sprinted along the top of the tanker to the ladder at the back, but Gisborne took a blasting and was blind and furious as he pulled his coat up over his head and stumbled frantically away.
Black Bess II and the other five luxury cars on Gisborne’s driveway were saturated in seconds, while the entire front of his house soon wore enough paint sludge to look like a modern art masterpiece.
Unknown to the rebels, the paint had spent years in metal cans, and this deterioration had resulted in lumps of rust big enough to crack garden planters, break windows and trash a conservatory.
‘That paint stinks,’ Robin complained as he slid down the ladder on the back of the tanker.
He laughed triumphantly as he stumbled into Oluchi, giving her a celebratory hug while one of the camera operators filmed.
‘Shame we only got one tanker,’ Robin told her. ‘But I think we’ve made our point.’
‘We need to clear out before the cops arrive,’ Oluchi told Robin. ‘Especially you.’
‘Your plan rocked!’ Luke told Oluchi, as he joined Robin behind the tanker.
‘Looks like you caught some,’ Robin told Luke, as he noticed paint spatters over the young Brigand’s back.
‘I jumped out of the cab and thought I’d run clear, but that paint was mental,’ Luke explained exuberantly. ‘Some of that gunk is catching the wind, going clear over the house and landing in the swimming pool out back.’
‘House is wrecked, cars are wrecked,’ Robin shouted cheerfully. ‘But where’s Darrell? I thought he was behind me.’
Robin spun back towards the tanker, fearing that Darrell had slipped off the tanker’s roof and fallen into the blasting paint. But as he backed down Gisborne’s driveway towards the road, Robin saw Darrell atop the tanker. One of the drones hovered over the comedian’s head and he mugged off for the camera, thumping his bloody chest, punching the air and shouting the name of his new show.
‘Truth to Power! Truth to Pow-ahhhhhh!’
‘Snubs is a knob,’ Luke noted, then yanked Robin by the side of his flak jacket. ‘Time to leave. You’re riding with me, and Cut-Throat said he’d chop my thumbs off if I let you get busted.’
Robin had wanted to keep riding his own bike, but it was fully dark now and after seeing his unimpressive riding skills earlier in the day, Ratbreath and another Brigand who was better not argued with decided that Robin should escape as the passenger of a more experienced rider.
‘See you back at the castle,’ Robin told Oluchi, rubbing his stinging eye.
TV folks had unloaded Robin’s getaway bike, but before he could put on his helmet, he got distracted by a sudden drop in noise levels.
Fifty thousand litres of paint had run through the muck-spreading gear, leaving just occasional burbles from the sprayer nozzles. Darrell Snubs finally strode to the rear of the tanker, holding his arms aloft and bowing to the cameras as if he’d done it all by himself.
‘Darrell, stop showing off,’ Paul the director shouted angrily. ‘Gisborne owns Locksley PD. They may not be able to charge us with any crime, but they’ll kick the snot out of us.’
‘I can take anything!’ Snubs boasted as he reached the metal ladder. ‘I survived bandits and dog bites. I am Darrell Snubs. I am the magnificent one!’
Luke started the bike as Robin finally pulled on his helmet. There was a bang. Robin thought the bike had misfired, but all the TV folks started screaming and taking cover.
‘Snubs is shot! Snubs is shot!’ someone screamed.
As Robin looked up Gisborne’s driveway, he saw paint trails running everywhere while TV people rushed towards Snubs, who’d fallen off the back of the empty tanker.
‘He’s shot!’ Paul the director shouted as he dived to the ground in front of Snubs. ‘Someone call an ambulance.’
Robin glanced up at the house, where Dawn Gisborne stood on her paint-spattered bedroom balcony. She had the same angry expression as her daughter Clare, and she held a sniper rifle with a sophisticated laser scope.
‘You ruined my house, Snubs,’ Dawn shouted. ‘Now I’ve ruined you.’
A little camera drone whizzed down and hovered in front of Dawn Gisborne. She aimed the green dot of her laser scope and blasted it out of the sky. Robin was instinctively drawn towards the action, and reached behind for an arrow. But when he tried stepping off the bike, Luke grabbed his backpack.
‘She’ll shoot you next,’ Luke warned Robin, as the first police sirens sounded in the distance. ‘Now get on the damned bike.’
There was nothing Robin could do to help Snubs. Since Luke was four times his size, he did what he was told, settling back on the saddle, gripping the young Brigand around the waist, and letting him open the throttle and blaze out of Dodge before the cops showed up.
41. THE NEW PRESENTER
‘Why is my living room full of kids?’ Karma yelled, as she stepped into the penthouse lounge at five to nine the following morning. ‘You lot will miss the start of school!’
Besides Karma and Indio’s own kids, the giant projector screen in the penthouse lounge had drawn a crowd that included most of Matt and Finn’s mates, along with Alan, Josie and three of her friends.
Normally it took a birthday party or a new superhero movie to get this many Sherwood Castle kids in one place, but now they were glued to the morning news. As presenter Lynn Hoapili spoke, the scrolling ticker along the bottom of the screen highlighted the latest developments:
– DOCTORS SAY DARRELL SNUBS’ CONDITION IS SERIOUS BUT STABLE
– LOCKSLEY POLICE RELEASE DAWN GISBORNE WITHOUT CHARGE, SAY SHE WAS ACTING IN SELF DEFENCE
– DAMAGE TO GUY GISBORNE’S CARS AND HOME ESTIMATED TO BE IN EXCESS OF £3 MILLION
– VIDEO OF HOOD/SNUBS PAINT ATTACK RECEIVES FIFTY MILLION VIEWS IN TWELVE HOURS
– ENVIRONMENTAL GROUPS AND CAPITAL CITY MAYOR DEMAND A FULL GOVERNMENT INVESTIGATION INTO GISBORNE WASTE MANAGEMENT
A cheer rippled across the penthouse lounge when the big screen cut to a shot of Oluchi. She stood outside Locksley General hospital holding a microphone.
‘That lady was in the Nest with Robin all last week,’ one little lad blurted, only to get a contemptuous shove from his big sister.
‘Everyone knows, Kevin. Shut your gob!’
Up on the big screen, presenter Lynn Hoapili explained what was going on. ‘I am now live with Oluchi Thomas. She spent yesterday with Darrell Snubs’ team, documenting the Sherwood Forest rebels’ spectacular assault on Guy Gisborne’s home, and she personally witnessed the shooting incident. Oluchi, what’s the latest from Locksley General?’
Oluchi answered in her most professional TV presenter voice. ‘Less than ten minutes ago, we saw a medical helicopter lift off from the hospital rooftop. We understand that Darrell Snubs and two critical care nurses were on board.’
‘Has there been an update on Snubs’ condition?’ Lynn asked.
‘Darrell Snubs’ spokesperson released a statement, saying that he is on his way to a hospital in Liverpool. As soon as the chopper lands, a team of specialist trauma surgeons will operate to remove a bullet fragment lodged dangerously close to his spine,’ Oluchi explained. ‘The spokesperson did not take questions and gave little information about Snubs’ current state. We don’t know if he is conscious, but we believe he would not have been allowed to leave in a helicopter if his condition was life-threatening.’
‘And with Darrell Snubs out of action, I understand that you have taken on the task of presenting this week’s episode of Truth to Power,’ Lynn said.
Oluchi tried hard not to smile about her rapid promotion, from wannabe journalist to lead presenter on a prime-time show that would draw a record-breaking audience.
‘I’m honoured to have been given the opportunity to infiltrate the Sherwood Forest rebels and tell this story,’ Oluchi told her former boss. ‘I spoke with Truth to Power’s producers late last night. They considered postponing this week’s episode until Darrell was well enough to present the show himself, but with so much media interest after the shooting, we decided it was more important to let viewers see the episode now.’
The news channel cut away from Oluchi to Lynn in the studio. ‘And you’ll be able to watch this sensational breaking story, featuring Robin Hood, Darrell Snubs and incredible unreleased footage of last night’s shooting, right here on Channel Fourteen this coming Saturday.
‘In the next half hour, we’ll have live footage as Darrell Snubs’ helicopter lands at the Liverpool University Hospital, but first here’s Dok-Mai with a weather update.’
The screen in the penthouse lounge went blank and twenty kids groaned as they looked around and saw Karma holding the remote.
‘Get downstairs to school!’ she ordered. ‘The lot of you.’
Matt looked furious. ‘Mum, you’re so uncool,’ he moaned. ‘The guys are waiting to see the clip where Mr Khan smashes through the gate.’
