Borribles Go For Broke, The (8 page)
Read Borribles Go For Broke, The Online
Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti
Sam swerved but he was hemmed in completely and the end soon came. A policeman leapt up and grabbed at Sam’s bridle. The horse reared and lifted the man from his feet but he held on. Another policeman ran forward, then another. The Borribles fired stones at their knees, their ankles; many men fell but others ran round them, protecting the injured with their shields. It was a fierce battle but the SBG would not be intimidated and they did not fall back. Sam reared again and the cart crashed into one of the stationary vans. The horse whinnied piteously as he struggled to be free. He bucked, he kicked.
‘Leave him alone,’ shouted Sydney, and fired a stone at the constable who was punching Sam on the nose.
The cart pitched and tipped and Spiff, drawing back the rubber of his catapult, was thrown to the ground badly stunned. He groaned and rolled on to his back. Chalotte was seized by an ankle and dragged from her feet. Her back cracked against the side of the cart, she was grabbed and chucked from one policeman to another. Someone cuffed her and dropped her down beside the unconscious Spiff. She screamed and covered her ears with her hands.
‘Don’t clip me,’ she yelled, ‘don’t clip me.’
Stonks was strong. He was held by the leg. He kicked out and the hand let go. He jumped over the edge of the cart and butted someone in the stomach. A way was clear before him, he moved for it but a truncheon struck him across the back and all the wind went from him, sucked from his lungs. He fell to his knees and that was the end of his battle.
Sydney had not thought of fighting. In her heart she was weeping because it had been her idea to look for Sam in the first place and now that idea had brought them all to this defeat. Never had
there been such a thing in the whole of Borrible history. Never had so many been caught in one fell swoop.
there been such a thing in the whole of Borrible history. Never had so many been caught in one fell swoop.
Vulge sprang from the cart but he was caught in midair by two policemen and they grasped him by the legs and wrists and his skinny body writhed in the air between them. Twilight was on the ground, so was Bingo. Everyone had been taken.
With her heart breaking Sydney jumped on to Sam’s back, fell on his neck and clung tightly to him. ‘Oh, Sam,’ she cried, ‘this was all for you and it’s all gone wrong, you’ll never see us Borribles again.’ But there was no time to say more. She was plucked from the horse by brutal hands and flung to the ground.
Spiritless she gazed at the sky. It was blue still and burnt the world. Her body ached and sweat ran over it. The earth was hard in her back and she could feel it spinning, faster and faster. All around her, staring down, was a ring of helmeted heads, moving and motionless, like the rim of a gyroscope. Blank masks: no eyes, no noses, no mouths. Nothing.
Suddenly a section of the circle fell away and into the gap stepped a short man in officer’s uniform. He had twisted features and a black moustache. Beside him stood a fat policeman with a shiny face made uneven and bumpy by glowing pearls of perspiration. It was Inspector Sussworth and Sergeant Hanks.
The inspector jeered and clapped his hands and looked at the faceless faces of his men. Sydney saw him do a little jig of happiness, pirouetting from one foot to the other. The sergeant stared lovingly at the prostrate captives and licked his lips as if he were contemplating his favourite food.
‘Well, well,’ said Sussworth when his dance was over and a smile set crooked on his ugly mouth. ‘What a lovely batch of Borribles I’ve got. Welcome home you little brats, welcome back to the straight and narrow.’
After their capture the Borribles were handcuffed together in a long line and locked into one of the Transit vans. Eel Brook Common looked like a no man’s land. Two vans had crashed and one of them lay on its side, dented and demolished. Police equipment
was strewn over an immense area and many of the SBG, exhausted by the heat of the day and the exertion of the chase, lay where they had fallen, like corpses on a battlefield. On the main road loitered little knots of people, gazing without understanding at the aftermath of the conflict. Some of them questioned the policemen about the cause of the affray but received no answer. They went to leave but halted to witness one last flurry of excitement.
was strewn over an immense area and many of the SBG, exhausted by the heat of the day and the exertion of the chase, lay where they had fallen, like corpses on a battlefield. On the main road loitered little knots of people, gazing without understanding at the aftermath of the conflict. Some of them questioned the policemen about the cause of the affray but received no answer. They went to leave but halted to witness one last flurry of excitement.
Sam the horse had not finished yet; his body shook all over and his legs trembled, there was froth on his lips. He stood dejected in the shafts of the rubbish cart, his head touching the grass in sorrow, and the park keeper, one elbow bandaged, came up to the horse and caught him violently by the reins.
‘Come on, animal,’ he said, ‘it’s back to work for you, and no mistake.’
It is difficult to know what goes on in a horse’s mind but something snapped in Sam’s. He had tasted freedom for a few minutes, he had seen his friends for a while, knew he was loved, but at the end everything had been taken from him. It was more than he could bear. He lunged and he reared, snorting out a challenge to the man in brown and all that he stood for. His front legs flailed and the park keeper let go the reins and cowered to the ground, shielding his head with his good arm. In the prison van Sydney pressed her face against the wire-meshed window.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘Sam’s escaping.’
Sam kicked his hind legs at the cart that he hated. There was a noise of splintering wood and a shaft broke away. Sam reared once more, high and magnificent, and his valiant neighing rang out across the common, defying anyone to enslave him ever again.
The keeper made a last attempt to seize the flying reins but Sam sprang at him, forcing him back, and the second shaft gave and the traces snapped: Now he was free of the cart altogether; now, unhindered and unfettered, he wheeled like a wild stallion, then he chose his direction and galloped off, his neck stretched and his tail and mane and broken leathers streaming behind him.
The exhausted policemen were ordered to their feet and compelled
to link arms and form a human chain across the common. Others raced to their vans, but Sam would not be caught. He launched himself at the SBG line as it advanced towards him; he ran faster and faster, his hooves thundered across the turf and the policemen before him faltered; that horse was insane—it was not going to stop. On and on sped Sam and when only a few yards from the human barricade he soared into the air, as high and as handsome as any hunter, and landed gracefully well beyond the reach of those who sought to bring him down. Across the main road he went then and into the freedom of the back streets, like any Borrible would.
to link arms and form a human chain across the common. Others raced to their vans, but Sam would not be caught. He launched himself at the SBG line as it advanced towards him; he ran faster and faster, his hooves thundered across the turf and the policemen before him faltered; that horse was insane—it was not going to stop. On and on sped Sam and when only a few yards from the human barricade he soared into the air, as high and as handsome as any hunter, and landed gracefully well beyond the reach of those who sought to bring him down. Across the main road he went then and into the freedom of the back streets, like any Borrible would.
‘He got away,’ said Sydney. ‘Imagine that, he got away.’
Vulge kicked the side of the van. ‘Well, we didn’t,’ he said, ‘and what will happen to us now?’
He was not kept in suspense for long. The van groaned on its springs and three policemen climbed into the front seat. One of them switched on the engine and his colleagues turned to keep a close watch on the prisoners. The van drove slowly off the common, bumped over the kerbstones and crawled away in the direction of Fulham Road. It was escorted by another van, and another. There was to be no escaping.
It was not a long drive and within a few minutes, sirens howling, the column of blue vehicles swept into a grey yard surrounded by high brick walls; this was Fulham police station. The vans parked and the SBG men bundled out of them to form up in straight ranks while Inspector Sussworth and his sergeant stood happily before them. Just for a little while there was silence, then the inspector raised his arms and opened his mouth.
‘Bloody Nora,’ said Vulge who had been watching the policemen through the windows of the Black Maria, ‘he’s going to sing, like some football supporter whose team’s won the cup.’
And sing the inspector did, a fine marching song, a song to rouse the blood, and as Sussworth sang his men saluted and marched and tramped on the spot, and every time their leader completed a verse the constables shouted aloud and sang the chorus with verve and energy: but the song sent a chill into the
bones of the Borribles as they listened, for the words offered them no hope.
bones of the Borribles as they listened, for the words offered them no hope.
‘To make a new society
we must reform the human race;
if all the world were just like me
the world would be a better place.
we must reform the human race;
if all the world were just like me
the world would be a better place.
CHORUS:
‘There’s law and order in my blood, and disobedience makes me mad;
I am the friend of all that’s good,
I am the foe of all that’s bad.
I am the friend of all that’s good,
I am the foe of all that’s bad.
‘I hate the fools who won’t obey
the rules we set for them to keep;
it’s criminal to err and stray—
good citizens behave like sheep!
the rules we set for them to keep;
it’s criminal to err and stray—
good citizens behave like sheep!
‘Authority must always win,
dissenters are a mortal blight—
I’ll straighten them with discipline,
teach them to put their morals right!
dissenters are a mortal blight—
I’ll straighten them with discipline,
teach them to put their morals right!
‘For we know best what’s right and wrong;
we make the laws, we know the form—
I’ll come down hard, I’ll come down strong
on every sod who won’t conform—
we make the laws, we know the form—
I’ll come down hard, I’ll come down strong
on every sod who won’t conform—
‘Especially these little brats
the Borribles—the lawless shites
with pointed ears and woolly hats;
I’ll crucify the parasites!
the Borribles—the lawless shites
with pointed ears and woolly hats;
I’ll crucify the parasites!
CHORUS:
‘There’s law and order in my blood, and disobedience makes me mad;
I am the friend of all that’s good,
I am the foe of all that’s bad.’
I am the friend of all that’s good,
I am the foe of all that’s bad.’
Once the SBG march had been sung no more time was lost. The prisoners were hustled from their van and into the back door of the police station, pushed past some concrete steps leading to the cells, and shoved into the interrogation room. Several policemen went with the Borribles and marshalled them before a large desk. On the desk were piles of paper; behind the desk sat the malignant figure of Inspector Sussworth; beside him, ever subservient, stood Sergeant Hanks.
Inspector Sussworth arranged his papers into squares of neatness and jerked his face into some form of straightness. He cleared his throat. ‘I see you’re wearing Sinjen’s blazers and trousers,’ he began, ‘some kind of disguise I suppose, pitiful! Well, let’s see …’ He studied a charge sheet. ‘I can do you for breaking and entering, damaging police property, resisting arrest, obstructing police officers in the execution of their duty, attacking officers of the law, grievous bodily harm, actual bodily harm, obscene language, horse-stealing—used to be a hanging charge that one, pity—aiding and abetting a prisoner to escape and evade lawful custody … I’ve got enough to put you lot into care until the next millennium, and with your ears clipped I bet you’d grow up into as lovely a bunch of little Lord Fauntleroys as you could wish to see … But then I’m not interested in the future, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.’ Sussworth’s face twisted and tightened in its anger. ‘You lot know something about the Southfields murders; you lot were there and before I’ve finished with you I’ll have you queueing up to tell me about it.’
Spiff looked down the line of prisoners. ‘Do you know what he’s talking about?’ he asked. ‘Because I don’t.’
Sussworth made a gesture and the policeman standing immediately behind Spiff cuffed the Borrible across the top of the head. Spiff staggered but rode the blow philosophically.
‘I’ve never been to Southfields,’ he went on, ‘don’t even know where it is.’
‘I tell you something,’ said Sussworth, ‘I could clip your ears right now if I wanted to, but I’ll give you all a chance. Whosoever gives me the information I want will walk out of here a free Borrible with his, or her, ears unclipped. I can’t say fairer than that.’
Vulge stepped forward on the instant. ‘I’ve got something to tell you then,’ he cried.
‘Yes,’ said Sussworth, leaning eagerly over his desk, ‘what is it?’
‘It’s this,’ said Vulge, ‘I don’t know where Southfields is either.’
Inspector Sussworth was not amused. He narrowed his eyes and lengthened his lips. ‘A funny man, eh?’ he said. ‘Well, you won’t be laughing long. I’ll have your ears done tonight and we’ll see how brave you are then.’
Sergeant Hanks propped his belly on the desk and leant into it. ‘Perhaps,’ he suggested, ‘it might be a good idea, sir, if we gave them until tomorrow morning to think it over. They’re all a bit full of themselves at the moment but a day and a night in the cells without anything to eat or drink, well, that might help them to see things a bit differently.’
Sussworth’s face flared with pleasure. ‘Splendid idea, sergeant,’ he said. ‘You will arrange for the police surgeon to be round here first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll soon have these snotty buggers singing a different song.’ His eyes moved along the row of Borribles, studying each face, searching for weakness. His scrutiny stopped at Twilight.
‘Well, sonny,’ said the inspector, ‘have you got something you want to tell me? You’d like to save your ears, wouldn’t you?’
‘Oh, yes,’ answered Twilight, ‘I would. I wish to announce, categorically, that I am not knowing the whereabouts of Southfields either.’
There was a terrible silence in the room and the tension rose. Under the kneehole desk the Borribles could see the inspector’s legs contorting with fury. He drew a breath and held it in his lungs as if to cool his temper. His nose turned in the air like a corkscrew.
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