Robin Hood
Sell Out
By Emily Nightingale
Chapter one:
Breaking and entering
The Baxter offices
Long ago, in medieval times, whilst England's King Richard the Lionheart was crusading in the holy land, England fell into disrepair, and life for its citizens became unbearable. With high taxes crippling the poor and villainous noblemen ruling over the land, times were hard. One such place was Nottingham; where the conniving Sheriff of Nottingham made life a misery for his people. This was until rebel and do-gooder Robin Hood lead his band of fellow outlaws to put an end to the sheriffs’ scheming, by stealing from the rich and giving to the poor.
This was what I was thinking of as I set off towards the town centre, this is why I do what I do, because of some ancient do-gooder, this is my life, my destiny. So on this cool summer’s night outside the Baxter office building I waited for John’s signal, walking down the ally that separated the Baxter office from the offices next door, I decided that now was the time to don my Braking and Entering outfit. Tying the deep Lincoln Green masquerade mask around my head, zipping up my black jacket and tucking my black skinny jeans into my heelless boots, I was ready to go. I didn’t to used dress like this, you know, with all the black and stuff but it’s all kind of necessary now. You know, when sneaking round at night in dark alleyways, looking for the window that has been left open for you to climb through and silently creep through a high security office to retrieve (Read: steal) a wallet, it’s important not to be seen.
I guess this is where I should explain things. All that talk about breaking and entering and stealing you must think I’m some sort of criminal. Though to be honest that wouldn’t be too far from the truth. My name is Robin Hudson, I am a sixteen year old girl living in Locksdale, which is just one of the reasons I’ve gained my new nickname of Robin Hood, well, that and my new hobby of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. It’s not just that I’m sixteen; it’s my summer holidays before college and I’m feeling a bit impulsive. Well to be fair, my mum did tell me to get a job. Yes life has definitely been a lot more exciting lately.
Just towards the end of the ally, five or six paces from where I stood hidden in the shadows erupted the crashing sound of John’s signal. Though to be more specific, it was the sound of a cardboard box of papers and ring binders and other office stuff falling to the ground. I knew this because on one of our scouting trips earlier today we learned that the office secretary would be taking home all the paper work tonight to do over the weekend. We also learned that she would be staying late tonight preparing a presentation for Mr. Baxter to present to the governors on Monday morning.
We had decided that this would be a perfect sign that it was all clear; John would "accidentally" bump into the secretary knocking her box out of her hands. The reason that we were here tonight and going through all of this, would be because in the early hours of this morning we received an anonymous tip off that Mr. Baxter’s wallet had been forgotten the previous day at work, and that he had not realised that it was missing yet. It must be nice to have so much money that you don’t notice when you’ve lost your wallet, mustn’t it? And since he was not coming into the office today Mr. Baxter would not be able to retrieve it. Also, our informant had said, no one had dared move Mr. Baxter’s wallet, for fear of facing Baxter’s wrath. So we didn’t need to worry about some member of the cleaning staff or the secretary moving the wallet, it would be exactly where Baxter left it, where we easily could find it. This was good news for us, as this wallet would contain literally thousands of pounds, and would benefit the poor of Locksdale greatly. Far fetched it’s true, but still very likely. You see Mr Robert Baxter is a very wealthy man. So wealthy he could buy and sell all of Locksdale if he wanted to, and he has. He may not quite be the Sheriff of Nottingham but he's Locksdale's answer to an evil Donald Trump, he pretty much owns the whole town and everyone in it, nothing happens here without his say so or without being run by him first, he may not make it obvious, but everyone knows not to mess with him. Now that’s not why I don’t like the guy, the reason I can not stand him is I don’t like what he’s doing to my town. He's killing it. The cost of living here is unbelievable! Taxes, taxes, taxes. He has put a price tag on everything and anything. Areas of the town are in a kind of poverty we haven’t seen since the mines closed.
Pulling my hood over my head I walked backwards, away from John’s apologizing, and towards the open window our informant said would be here. It was a small rotten window which leads to the women’s toilets. Pushing the window further open I took a deep breath, I am not big or anything but it was a tight squeeze, but by using a method taught to me by my mother (who more often than not had to escape through a toilet window on one of her more disastrous dates in her youth) I managed to shimmy through and land gently on the toilet lid.
"I’m in," I said turning on my ear piece.
"Good," replied the voice of Mark, "Okay the security camera in the women’s toilets doesn’t pick up sound so we can talk but best not to talk too loud, what direction is the camera facing?" he asked. Standing on the toilet lid and peering over the cubicle I spotted the camera in the far corner. The camera was proof, if ever there was any, of Baxter’s growing paranoia, who puts security camera’s in the women’s toilets?
"At the door and the mirrors, the rooms of kind of an L shape." I replied.
"Perfect, do you think you can sneak out of there and into the cubical nearest to the camera without being seen?” Mark asked.
"Of course, I’m insulted you even had to ask." I said with mock indignation. I knew I’d be able to slip by unnoticed. Opening the door just enough for me to slide through I stepped out sticking to other doors (hoping none of them would swing open and send me tumbling) to avoid the sight of the camera. Hopping into the cubicle closest to the camera I locked the door.
"OK, so now what?" I asked.
"Take the frequency scrambler out of your pocket and stick it in the back of the camera. If I’m correct and I think I am, then the scrambler should stop the signal the camera is sending to the security office and disable this and all the other cameras. I’ve got the designs up on my laptop screen now; they’re all on the same circuit so this should work.” Mark answered.
"Got it." so I lent on the cubicle door, seeing the camera still facing the door I reached for it and plugged in Marks scrambler. Nothing happened.
"Did it work?" I asked.
"Is there a flashing red light on the top of the camera?" asked Mark simply. I looked.
"Nope,"
"Then it worked." Mark said.
I opened the cubicle door and stepped out into the toilets. Passing the mirrors I caught sight of my reflection, no wonder no one ever recognised me. My disguise had been working like a charm. I've been doing this for a few months now and it’s still hard to believe that I’m a household name around here; I’ve even made the regional news once or twice. And no one knows, just Mark, John and Will, my band of outlaws, as they’re called by the public, all of us fighting for what we believe in. You know, if someone had told me a year ago that this is what I’d be doing, I’d have laughed.
"Hello, anyone home? You need to get moving." Mark’s voice brought me back to reality.
"Yeah, sorry," I opened the toilet door and stepped out, it looked like any other office building in Locksdale and perhaps the country, but this is where Baxter does his scheming, his evil villain lare so to speak. I wandered into the perfectly decorated and designed reception, everything was neatly kept and properly homed, everything was organised and correctly placed from the immaculate filieing system to the floorless potted plant by the entrance. Following the incredibly helpful directions on the walls of the reception, I mounted the steps of the staircase that would lead to Baxter’s actual office on the second floor.
In the pitch black night the building was pretty creepy, long shadows cast by the grand banisters, thick darkness both ahead and behind, and eyes of enlarged figures staring accusingly as I climbed. Lining the walls of the grand staircase (which is what it was, must have cost a pretty penny,)were photographs, pictures’ of meet and greets Baxter had been to, kind of political visits. As if to say, ‘of course I care about the town, I'll donate a couple of hundred quid to this school, it doesn’t matter that I’m bleeding you dry of every penny you earn because you’re too simple to understand what’s happening’. The photo nearest to me was of a small doctors surgery, though it was hard to tell in the dim light I could make out about five smiling staff members holding a large cheque, which let’s be honest didn’t have that big of a number written on it, and a grinning Baxter. The name plate underneath the photo read ‘Cudworth Road Surgery, 14th of April 2007.’This was the surgery where me and my family, and most families in the area, used to visit for our checkups’. Notice I said ‘used to’, about a year ago the surgery had to close, I found out later through a bit of digging that this was because the surgery was in deep debt, it seemed a big powerful entity in Locksdale had loaned them money they were not able to repay, along with the interest. Humm, I wonder who that could have been. Turning on the camera and torch attached to my ear piece (which I probably should have turned on earlier) I said.
"Look at this."
"Disgusting isn’t it, I know. But we don’t have time to reminisce about the many evils of Robert Baxter, get going" Mark replied "Okay?"
"Okay, alright I’m at the top of the stairs." I said. I waited while Mark franticly typed onto his laptop looking up the plan of the building.
"Okay there should be a door." he said. And there was one; I could have told him that. As the light from my torch illuminated it I could see the beautifully polished grand mahogany door.
"Yep," I said and reached out to touch the shimmering wood. The door screamed elegance and glamour, Okay I know you’re thinking it's just a door, but its not, it symbolises so much more than that, it’s forbidden fruit, something I could never afford. No one round here could even begin to contemplate being in the same room, much less buying something like that. I mean who could possibly afford to spend the amount this door must have cost, with its golden handles, nails and hinges, on a door. It was a statement, made by Baxter to everyone from colleague to opposition to citizen, I have power, and I have wealth. Don’t mess with me.
"Don't touch it!" Mark screeched in my ear. "It's pressure sensitive, you'll trigger the alarms." Pulling away my hand I said.
"Alright Mr. Computer genius, then how do we disable it?" I asked slightly annoyed at my foolishness.
"Give me a minute ...right let’s see." Mark said.
"Arrgh," I groaned, "Whatever happened to we don't have time?" I ranted but Mark was ignoring me.
"Alright, there should be a kind of laser a few inches of the ground, is there?" Mark asked.
I tilted my head so the camera could see.
"Yikes! How did I miss that?" I exclaimed. Across the bottom off the door frame was a thick green laser, filling the corridor with an eerie glow.
"Are you ok?" Mark asked.
"Yeah, I think I might need glasses though." I said.
"Don't worry they’re only security lasers they won't hurt you."
"No I didn’t mean... oh never mind. What next?" I tried.
“You need to take out another one of my scramblers." Mark instructed.
"Yeah?" I asked holding Mark’s devise.
"Like before attach it to the mechanical part of the laser, and it should shut down the laser and the pressure sensitive door." Mark continued.
Attaching the scrambler as instructed I stepped back, the green laser had vanished but nothing happened to the door, I looked at it and said,
"Okay, I sure hope this works." Reaching out for the door, slowly, I needed this to work; I so did not need Baxter's goons finding me. As my hand wrapped around the handle I couldn’t hear any alarms, but there was still time. Gently I pushed it down and opened the door. I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Yes!" Mark and I coursed.
But our relief didn’t last long.
"Okay, now I can see those." I said.
"So can I." Mark said sounding a bit frustrated; he obviously hadn’t seen this coming." Give us a second."
Ahead of me there was a long marble corridor, with various bright green lasers, think "Mission Impossible" or “St Trinnians” or any spy movie you've seen lately, it was that bad.
"Mark, will these hurt me?" I asked timidly.
"Yeah, definitely," He said very matter of factly.
"Great." I sarcastically replied.
"Would you scan the area for me?" Mark asked.
"Okay if I show you will you tell me there’s some way for me to get down there without being maimed?" I asked, turning my head so he could get a good look at the corridor.
"I make no promises." Mark joked. I, however, was not laughing but I waited, I did not fancy doing this, but I knew what he was going to say.
"Ermm, Robin, do you think you could try and slip through the beams?" Mark asked.
"How did I know you were gunna say that? You’re supposed to be this computer genius and you’re telling me you don't have a dohicky to get me through this! Fine if I have to." Right then focus, I told myself, this could be potentially dangerous, oh who am I kidding, I was putting my limbs on the line here! That wallet had better be worth it.
"Please and thank you." Mark commented.
I groaned and decided to get on with it, there was only so much time we had before someone figured out we were in here. I stooped down low under the first green beam, whilst stepping over another low one, okay, I could do this. My boots squeaked on the floor as I span on my heels to get into a better position to bend backwards, and duck under a diagonal green beam. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad, I mused idly striding over a waist level beam, no, this wasn't so hard.
"Arrgh, be careful, you nearly hit one." Mark panicked.
"Mark I'm fine." OK limbo, how low can she go?
"Robin not you the camera, have you any idea how long I’ve been working on it? Be more careful" Mark finished.
I cross stepped, and bowed into a low bend; Brittany Spears' choreographer hasn’t got anything on me.
"Gee thanks Mark, I do feel loved, I didn’t know how much you cared.” Ok, breathe, I closed my eyes and got back into the rhythm of my deadly dance, step, bend, duck, step, stretch. Forget expensive work out videos’, you wanna try doing this.
"Alright, alright, sorry. But can you get a move on? We need to hurry."
"Speed up? Got it," I smiled staring ahead of me, well you only live once. “Watch this." I grinned and suddenly lunged forward, cart wheeling and hand standing and flipping seemed a good idea at first; hey it worked like a charm, well until.
"Argh" I screamed.
"Robin! Robin, what happened? Since the camera’s staring at the ceiling I take it you fell, you’re so clumsy. What were you thinking? Is that it then, you triggered the beam?" Mark yacked on in my ear. Okay, so I slipped. It was the polished marble floor, it was slippery okay. And despite what Mark thinks I am not clumsy, well not as clumsy as I once was, I now have lighting fast reflexes. And I quite skilfully - in my opinion - managed to land in the crab without touching the beams.
"No I didn’t, but thanks for having so much faith im me. Again I feel so loved."
"Right when you pick yourself up and get away from the lasers you should see another door, similar to the first one.” Mark said, had he no shame!? Crouching I looked ahead avoiding the lasers. There was the door.
"There it is, is this the last door now? This is a lot to go through for a wallet." I said.
"According to the plans I have in front of me this is the last one." he answered.
Bending low to get under the last beam I carried on towards the door. I was half expecting to have to get past something equally as challenging.
"So what do I have to do to get through this door then?" I asked “do I have to fake a voice detection test? Cross a pool of alligators? How about paragliding across a pit of deadly snakes? Kick my way through this two foot thick solid wood door?"
"No." Mark said impassively "just open the door."
"Oh, okay the." I said, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Well I don't know, maybe he thought no one would get past the lasers or something. All I know is it says nothing about any sort of protection on his actual office on the plans; or on the database so just go for it." Mark said, with a hint of disappointment in his voice if I’m not much mistaken.
"Well I’m not complaining." I cautiously put my hand on the golden handle, solid gold if I can just say. Pushed it down and just as Mark had predicted, nothing happened.
"Okay let’s finish this up." I said creeping into the room, but it soon became apparent that nothing was going to happen, so I walked a little easier. The room was enormous, at least the size of the whole top floor of my house. A long mahogany meeting table was the room’s main feature. Leather high backed chairs surrounded the table, jugs and cups of water sparsely arraigned on the table, around scattered sheets of paper, sticky notes and files. Big sliding glass windows filled the whole of one wall the blinds were drawn closed and the lights were off, the room would have been pitch black were it not for my touch, the place was eerily silent. A little distance from the head of the table was a large wooden desk, grander than the meeting table; the desk was immaculately polished and gleamed when the torches light fell upon it. Another high backed chair was behind the desk creating the image of the hulking Robert Baxter sat at his desk, throwing his weight about and abusing his power to suck the money and life out of the people he should be benefiting. It freaked me out when I thought I saw him there, scheming away.
"Okay, I wanna get out of here; it’s starting to creep me out." I said.
"Okay just get the wallet and get out." Mark instructed.
"Gladly," Well if his wallet was going to be anywhere it was going to be in, or on, his desk. As I made my way over there I stated to think. This is too easy. Something usually goes is all just too perfect. But there’s no time for suspicions, the money in the wallet would go to the people of Pontifact Road, a road full of single mums and widowed elderly who moved there intentionally because the rent was cheap. Cheap until Baxter bought the estate two years ago, now the rent has quadrupled and he's threatening to trough out half the street if they don’t get up to date on their taxes. But of course Baxter won’t be doing the throwing that’s someone else’s job, he won’t dirty his hands with it.
As I approached the desk my heart sank. Where is the wallet? I can't see it, where is it?
"Mark we might have a problem, the wallet’s not here." I said starting to panic. Rooting through the papers on the desk did not reveal the wallet, this was not good.
"What?"
Nothing in the drawers either, drat.
"The wallet, its not here!" I said now in full panic mode. Wait, what was that on the desk?
"Oh no, this isn’t good, you need to get out of there, right now. I'll call the others, let them know." Mark said but I wasn’t listening. On the desk was a disk in a simple plastic wallet, written in black marker pen across the disk was the words "SELL OUT."
"Robin did you hear me? You need to get out right now." Mark said sounding a bit frantic.
"I’m coming Mark don't worry." I mumbled reaching for the disk my panic leaving me; I had to see what was on this thing.
"Robin you don't understand, you need to get out, NOW!" The disk safely in my coat pocket I turned toward the exit. Could I hear laughing? I was sure I could hear something. In a far, unlit corner of the room I could make out movement, I was not alone.
"Mark." I whispered.
"Robin I think it’s a trap, listen to me you have to get out!" Mark practically screamed in my ear.
"Mark, I’m not alone in here." I whispered my panic, now having returned, had also decided to bring a friend with him, fear. The laughing grew louder and the figure moved out of the shadows, slowly the figure became less distorted, a man, tall, hulking, dark hair and dark eyes, shining with glee and mock. A fox cornering his pray.
"Got ya," The man grinned.
"Conner!” Mark and I coursed.
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