Pirate Cinema

Chapter 15

And that's when the second run finished.

We swapped again, both of us trembling. We'd been breathing floral-scented shit-fumes for ten minutes solid now, and between the lightheadedness, the excitement, and the weird, plasticky acoustics in the Porta-Loo, we were nervous as cats. Add to that the prospect of imminent discovery and arrest, and it's a wonder neither of us had a stroke.

“How many times are we going to do this?” I said. I hadn't wanted to be the first one to say it, but it was clear that 26 was a lot tougher than me.

She made the tiniest of shrugs, keeping the reflector still. “Until someone else is in position, I suppose. Can't stop until then.”

Not unless we get caught. I didn't say it. Didn't have to. We were both thinking it.

The video started again. Now I didn't have to look out the window to know that it was drawing a crowd. I could hear them. Also, the unmistakable voice of authority, coppers telling people to move along, the crackle of police radios. Distant sirens. I was in the middle of switching with 26 when the phone buzzed. She dug it out of my pocket and fumbled it and we both snatched for it as it fell toward the festering crap-stroganoff below us. I managed to bat it so that it fell to the floor instead. 26 went for it as I tried to realign the reflector. It was from the bridge: 1. They were ready. I managed to get the reflector lined up again just as the video ended, and we changed quickly into our tourist outfits, stuffing the hi-viz and builder's clothes into the carrier bags and switching on our CCTV- killing laser-hats. We snuck out of the toilet hand in hand, our palms so sweaty that they practically dripped. As we slipped out the door, a beefy copper clapped a hand on each of our shoulders.

“Just a minute, please,” he said, with that hard filth voice that made my heart stop beating. Four polite words, but they might as well have been, “And now you die.”

I swallowed, then dredged up my thickest, most northern voice, widened my eyes and said, “Excuse us, officer! We're just here for the weekend and we told our Mam and Dad we'd meet them at the Parliament to take our coach and well, we were both caught a bit short and this was the only toilet we could find -- I know it was wrong, but it was a desperate situation.”

He got squinty and thoughtful and then, by microscopic increments, the hand on my shoul- der loosened up.

“Mind if I see your arms, lad?” he said.

I understood then, but pretended I didn't. He thought we'd been injecting drugs in the toilet. I gladly held my arms out, and so did 26. “Like this?” I said, putting even more northernness in my voice, so I sounded like the comedy Yorkshireman in a pantomime. But the copper didn't twig. After a short look at my arms he said, “McDonald's is always a better bet for a public convenience if you really need to go. It's dangerous to sneak into a construction site, you never know what's lying around. Not to mention you could get done for trespassing. Don't let me catch you at it again, all right?”

He was almost smiling under his mustache, and he adjusted his anti-stab vest, running a finger around his sweaty collar. It was a hot night, which was good camouflage for our guilty flushes.

“Yes, sir,” I said. 26 nodded vigorously.
“Go on now, go find your parents, and stay out of trouble.”

We walked away as casually as we could, and 26 whispered to me, “I thought he'd get us as soon as your hat went off.”

“My hat?” I touched the brim. I hadn't really paid much attention to it.

“You didn't notice?”

“Notice what, 26?”

“It killed the CCTVs in his helmet, breast pocket, and collar. Zap, zap, zap, the minute he grabbed us. Blink and you'd have missed it.”