Smugglers! (8 page)

It was dark inside the crate and cramped. I couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. A fountain of panic welled inside me, threatening to burst any second into a gush of petrified screams. I was a prisoner. Completely at the mercy of the smugglers.

What were they going to do to me?

I should never have come here alone. I should have thought it through more. Or, waited until the boats had gone, making sure the coast was clear.

Sweat was pouring off my forehead, but I could barely move my arms to wipe it off. My breathing was ragged. Painful. Deep, anguished breaths desperately sucking at the limited air, swallowing it up. I felt tears prick my eyes and a lump form in my throat. This was it, I was going to die.

Stop it! I told myself. Get a grip. There’s always a way out of a situation if you look for it. How many times had Vince told that to Mac?

But, that was just a TV programme. This was real life and I was in serious danger.

Well, panicking won’t help you get out of it, I thought. I forced myself to calm down. To breathe slowly and deeply.

As I calmed down I realised that I could actually breathe fine, so the crate wasn’t airless. Perhaps that meant the lid wasn’t completely sealed. I shuffled around a bit so that I could move my arms. Then, I pushed the lid, which gave a tiny bit, then stopped. The smugglers must have padlocked it.

I heard a murmur of voices and strained my ears, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I wasn’t even sure it was English. Then, suddenly, my crate was lifted up and I felt myself moving. I was being carried somewhere.

Where were they taking me?

Anger kicked in. I wasn’t just going to sit there and take this meekly. These creeps obviously had plans for me, and somehow I didn’t reckon my personal safety rated highly on their list. I had nothing to lose by going down fighting.

I hammered on the lid with my fists. ‘Help! Let me out!’ I yelled, at the top of my voice. ‘The police know I’m here. They’ll be coming any minute!’

Whoever was carrying me ignored my shouting and continued walking. I guessed that there must be two people because I was pretty sure one person couldn’t carry me and the crate. Besides, I felt a bit lopsided as if the person who was carrying the front of the crate was slightly smaller than the one who was carrying the back of it.

‘Put the kid in the boat,’ I heard a man say.

I froze.

They were going to take me away on the boat? Where to?

Fear gave me strength and I hammered like mad at the lid, pounding and pushing with my fists until they hurt.

‘Put me down! Let me out of here!’

My captors continued walking, carrying the crate with me in it.

They weren’t going to put me in a boat and take me away to goodness knows where. No way. Not if I could help it.

I squirmed around until I was almost on my back in the crate. Then, I brought up my right foot and kicked hard at the lid. It vibrated loudly.

I heard a shout. I was sure it was a woman’s voice, but I couldn’t make out what she said. Then, I heard a man swear and felt the crate being lowered. They were putting me down. Had we reached the rowing boat?

Were they planning on taking me to the big boat out at sea then dumping me somewhere? Or, taking me with them to whatever country they came from?

‘Help!’ I yelled, kicking at the crate again. ‘Let me out of here!’

‘It’s no good screaming, kid. There’s no one around to hear you,’ a gruff voice said. It sounded so close that I was sure the smuggler had bent down to speak to me through the crate.

Then, silence. No movement. No sound. Nothing.

Minutes ticked by. I strained my ears, trying to listen for a voice I recognised, a piece of information, which might give me a clue as to who the smugglers were, but I heard nothing familiar.

Never mind figuring out who the smugglers are, Amy, just get yourself out of the crate, I told myself.

I wriggled around until I was completely on my back, my knees bent in front of me. I gathered all of my strength, brought both legs up together and kicked at the lid of the crate. I heard a creak and checked the lid for a hole or crack, but I couldn’t see anything.

One more big kick and I might crack open the crate enough to climb out.

Once again, I gathered my strength and brought both my legs up.

CRRACK!

I’d done it! I’d cracked it. A glimmer of moonlight shone through the broken lid.

Had the smugglers heard the noise? I paused, listening to see if anyone came running. No one did.

I wriggled onto my knees and tried to look out of the gap in the crate, but all I could see was the moon and a few stars shining above. I had to make a bigger hole without the smugglers hearing me.

I got ready to kick again, and then froze as I heard voices. The smugglers were coming this way again.

I heard them talking to each other rapidly in a foreign language.

Then, a man spoke in English. ‘What are we going to do with the kid?’

‘Leave her here. The tide will be in soon.’ This was the gruff-voiced man, the one who’d spoken to me before.

Ohmigod. They were going to leave me here to drown.

I was about to kick at the lid again when I thought better of it. If they knew I’d kicked a hole in the crate they’d only lock me in another one. Or, take me away with them. If I kept quiet until they’d gone I could then kick my way out. The tide wouldn’t be in for a while. I had time to get free.

So, I kept still and listened to the mumble of voices around me.

Then, I heard something else. Something strange.

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I was puzzled for a moment, and then I realised it was a ringtone. Where had I heard that before?

At last, it was all quiet. I waited, straining my ears, checking my watch, which luckily had fluorescent hands, until ten long minutes had passed with no sound at all.

I kicked at the box. It splintered again. I peered up through the crack and a bright light shined in, almost blinding me.

‘Amy? Is that you?’

It was Max.

‘The smugglers locked me in this crate!’ I yelled. ‘Can you help me get out? And stop shining that torch in my eyes!’

‘Sorry.’ Max dimmed the beam. ‘The smugglers have all gone now,’ he said. He yanked at the wood, as I kicked the crate again and again. Finally, we made a hole big enough for me to wriggle out.

I stretched my arms and legs, and then checked my watch again. I’d been stuck in that crate for over half an hour.

‘Are you all right?’ Max asked, worriedly.

‘Yes, a little bit shaken, but I’m okay, thanks.’ I smiled at him. ‘But, what are you doing here? I told you to stay at home.’

‘Good job I didn’t, isn’t it?’ he retorted. ‘Or, you’d have drowned in the crate.’

I looked over at the sea. It was coming in fast and the smugglers’ big boat had already faded into the distance. Would I have got out of the crate quickly enough if Max hadn’t come to rescue me?

‘Did you see any of the smugglers’ faces?’ I asked. ‘Did you recognise anyone?’

Max shook his head. ‘I only just got here. I was going to follow you, but Nessa came in so I had to wait until she’d gone to bed before I could sneak out.’

‘Well, I’m sure glad you got here,’ I said. ‘Anyway, what are we waiting for? We’ve got to go up to the secret cave before the Little Cragg smuggler comes to collect the stuff.’

Max shone his torch over at the incoming sea. ‘It’s getting a bit close.’

‘We can get out through the manhole on to the cliffs, remember?’

He hesitated. ‘Okay,’ he nodded, obviously not fancying the climb any more than I did.

Max shone his torch to light the way into the cave. The crates had all gone. ‘They’ve been taken up into the secret cave,’ I told him. ‘But, we need to be careful, the smuggler could be there.’

We made our way along the tunnel to the cave. When I thought we were getting to the end of the tunnel, I told Max to switch off his torch, in case the smugglers were still there and saw the beam; we had to make the final bit in darkness, which was scary. We listened carefully before coming out of the tunnel, and then Max switched on the torch. The cave was empty. No crates. Nothing.

We were too late.

‘The Little Cragg smuggler must have removed the crates straight after the other smugglers carried them up,’ I said, in dismay. ‘Let’s get out of here and see if the tide is out enough for us to go the beach way,’ I told Max. ‘I don’t fancy climbing up that wall again.’

We went back down the tunnel and were relieved to find that the main cave was still dry. Walking outside, we saw the sea was just lapping over the rocks. We would get our feet a bit wet, but we could make it.

‘Do you know who it is?’ Max asked, as we waded through the sea to the bigger beach. ‘I think it’s Sid the Sniff,’ I told him, relating the conversation I’d overheard at the car boot sale. ‘We’d better tell PC Lambard,’ Max said. ‘The trouble is, we haven’t got any evidence,’ I told him. ‘Sid could just deny it.’ ‘But, if PC Lambard searches Sid’s shed, he’ll find the smuggled goods, won’t he?’

As I reached into my pocket for my cellphone to ring PC Lambard, my fingers brushed against something sharp. I digged further into my pocket and pulled out the brown-patterned piece of shell I’d found in the smugglers’ cave earlier in the week. I’d completely forgotten about it. I studied it carefully. I knew what it was … tortoiseshell.

As I turned to show Max I heard something familiar.

‘Apollo calling!
Apollo calling!
Apollo to Houston. Do you receive me?
Over.’

Max took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the lit-up screen. ‘Uh-oh, it’s Mum,’ he said, sounding worried.

I stared at him. ‘Where did you get that ringtone from?’

‘Juan. He Bluetoothed it to me.’

The cellphone was still ringing. Max answered it.

‘Hello, Mum.’

‘Max, where on earth are you?’ I could hear the anxiety in her voice.

Max looked at me and I nodded. This was way too big for us both to handle. Besides, I now knew for definite who the Little Cragg smugglers were. I had to call the police and all they had to do was round them up.

‘I’m on the beach with Amy,’ he said. ‘We saw some smugglers …’

‘WHAT! …’

I left Max to explain, walked out of earshot and dialled PC Lambard’s number.

Amy is sure that she’s found the culprit. Have you? It’s time for you to look at all the evidence and solve the case … then read on to find out if you’re right!

‘Hello, this is Amy Carter,’ I said.

PC Lambard didn’t sound too pleased to hear from me. I guessed that he’d been asleep. He took a bit of convincing when I told him about the smugglers. ‘I know who they are,’ I said. ‘If you go straight round to their place now you should catch them unloading the stuff.’ I told him their names and he very reluctantly agreed to go round.

‘I thought you said it was Sid the Sniff?’ Max said accusingly, glaring at me. He’d heard everything.

‘I thought it was, until I realised that there was two pieces of evidence pointing to the real smugglers.’

‘But, it can’t be them,’ said Max. ‘You’re wrong.’

I sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Max, really. But, I’m right about this, trust me. Now, what did your mum say?’

‘She’s going nuts and said that I have to wait by the wall at the top because they’re coming to pick me up. She said she’s going to tell your gran, too.’

Fan-blooming-tastic. Gran will be even grouchier at being woken up than PC Lambard was. And, she’d read me the riot act for sneaking out of the house and endangering both myself and Max.

Ah well, at least it hadn’t been for nothing. I’d caught the smugglers.

Twenty minutes later we were all in Gran’s kitchen. Max was being hugged and scolded at the same time.

‘Anything could have happened to you,’ his mum said. ‘What if someone had seen you and taken you away? Or, if you’d been trapped by the tide?’

‘I told him not to come with me. Didn’t I, Max? I told him to stay here.’

‘Yes, but if I hadn’t followed you, then you might still have been stuck in that crate when the tide came in,’ Max retorted, defensively.

Everyone turned to stare at me.

‘What crate?’ Gran asked, very, very quietly.

Uh-oh. She wasn’t going to like this.

She didn’t.

‘You’ve got to stop all this amateur detective business, Amy. Do you hear me?’ she said, angrily. ‘If you don’t, you’re going home on the next flight, my girl. You and Max were both in serious danger tonight. Anything could have happened to you.’ She swallowed. ‘And how would I explain that to your parents?’

‘I have to say, Amy, that you’ve behaved very irresponsibly. I think you should stop hanging around with Max. He’s too young for all this,’ Max’s mum said, sternly.

Well, I like that! Me hang around with Max! It was him who was always following me.

Then, the doorbell rang.

It was PC Lambard, who had come to say that he’d arrived at Mendoza Music just in time to catch Juan and his dad unloading a van full of illegal Hawksbill turtle skins and shells.

So, I was right.

Everyone listened in silence as PC Lambard said he’d tipped off the HM Revenue and Customs people and they’d waylaid the other boat out at sea. Apparently, they’d been trying to smash this turtle smuggling ring for ages.

‘Good work, Amy,’ he said. ‘And you too, Max. But you shouldn’t have tried to tackle criminals like this on your own. Next time you see or hear anything suspicious you come and tell me, right? I can’t have you two kids wandering about late at night. Especially you, Max. You’re far too young.’

‘But, I saved Amy’s life!’ he declared.

‘I wouldn’t go that far. I’d almost bust my way out of the crate,’ I protested. Then, seeing his crestfallen face, added, ‘but I was really glad of your help.’

Max smiled and then related all over again how he’d helped me break out of the crate before the tide came in and swept me away.

What the heck, he’d been really brave, so I let him have his moment of glory.

At that moment, Mr Hodgkin came in, looking really excited. He showed us some pictures he’d taken of some baby badgers with his camera. So, he was badger watching after all! He was surprised to see us all up so Gran told him about how Max and I had caught the smugglers. He looked at me and grinned. I reckon he’d sussed why I was following him the other night, but he didn’t say anything.

It was really late by the time we’d all calmed down and got to bed, and it was Max’s stepdad’s birthday the next day, so Max didn’t come round to the B&B until after lunch.

‘Okay,’ he said, plonking himself down on the end of my bed. ‘How did you know it was Juan and his dad, and not Sid the Sniff?’

‘Well, it was all a matter of deduction really …’

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‘You know, you’re a pretty good detective,’ Max said, when I’d finished. He sighed. ‘I wish Juan wasn’t the smuggler, but I’m glad we caught him. All those poor turtles being killed for their skins and shells. It’s cruel. How could he do it?’

‘You know what PC Lambard said: Juan and his dad didn’t do the actual killing, the gang did. They just bought the stuff from them.’ Juan’s dad’s business was in trouble, so Juan had hit on the idea of making leather belts and purses and selling them on the Internet to make more money. Then someone offered him some illegal Hawksbill turtle products and one thing led to another. By using the shells to decorate the tortoiseshell guitars and the skins to make the belts and bags, they made enough money to save the business. They were going to sell the shop later this year and go back to Mexico.’

‘Even so …’

‘I know, but when money’s involved principles often go out of the window.’ Vince had told Mac that once.

‘Amy!’ Gran tapped on the door. ‘You two have got a visitor.’

Max and I exchanged puzzled looks, and went downstairs.

It was Juan.

He looked really embarrassed and contrite.

‘I wanted to apologise,’ he said, hesitantly. ‘I did not know, Amee, I promeeze, that those men prison you in that crate. I did not know you and Max were there. Me and Papa, we just came to collect the … goods. We did not mean anyone to come to any harm. You are okay, yes? They did not hurt you?’

‘It’s okay, I’m fine,’ I told him. He did look really sorry. ‘What will happen to you?’

He shrugged. ‘I do not know. I have brought shame on my family. We will have to see. I just wanted to help Papa, but I should not have got involved in bad stuff like this.’ He looked at us both. ‘I hope you can forgeeve me. I will go now.’

Poor Juan. I know what he did was wrong, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

‘Will Juan and his dad go to prison?’ I asked PC Lambard when he came round later.

‘It’s not my decision and smuggling is a serious crime, but both he and his father have cooperated fully and were only a small part of a massive smuggling operation. I think the courts may well be lenient with them. They are very remorseful.’

‘Actually, there might be another smuggler …’

I told PC Lambard all about Sid the Sniff and the conversation I’d overheard. He did a few investigations over the weekend and found out that Sid had been bringing tobacco, cigarettes, alcohol and other stuff from abroad and selling it on. The HM Revenue and Customs people picked him up on Sunday when he was on his way back with a van load of stuff. Then, they checked out his shed and found loads of other smuggled goods. He’d even been supplying Nite Life with cheap alcohol.

PC Lambard came over on Monday afternoon to tell us all about it. ‘Well done, Amy. People like Sid rob the government of millions of pounds in unpaid taxes and cause a lot of harm to people’s health.’

‘So, I caught three smugglers? Mega wow!’

‘It all worked out this time, Amy, but I think you should stick to watching detective movies in the future and leave the police to catch the real criminals,’ Gran said. ‘I don’t want you putting yourself or Max in danger like that again.’

‘Don’t worry, Gran. I won’t,’ I promised.

And I meant it. I would be more careful next time. I knew what a narrow escape I’d had. But, Amy Carter, super-sleuth, wasn’t about to retire just yet. Little Cragg was proving to be a hotbed of crimes to solve!

THE END