The Desert Run Read online

  The dull green coast of southern England hardened on the horizon: the low hills of the downs, the smudges of towns along the shoreline. Ben was fiddling with his phone. I stared out the window at the choppy sea sliding past the salt-smeared window.

  And then the harbour arms came into view, and we slowed, and then we passed through the rocky opening, turning around in the calm of the inner harbour. The announcement on the tannoy came, always later than you imagine, when the ship already seemed to be docked, and we joined the queue of drivers waiting to get back to their cars.

  26

  For the first thirty seconds after we drove off the ferry, everything looked fine. Then the cars in front of us slowed then stopped. One of the few good things about Ben’s van was the driving position was higher than in most cars, so you could see more clearly what was ahead of you. I didn’t much like what I could see.

  “Ben,” I said. I was driving. It just happened that way because Ben had done a long shift getting us to the ferry port. “I can see guys in the customs area. Look, in yellow jackets.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine,” he said, but he craned his neck to get a better look.

  “Look, there at the front. They’ve pulled over the first two cars off the boat. What’s going on?”

  I didn’t need to tell him this—we could both see just fine. And now, the car that was third off the boat was called forward into another bay. We watched as a small team of yellow-jacketed customs officers worked with each car, searching them.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” I said.

  There was nothing to do but watch, and from our raised vantage point, we could see they were doing a pretty thorough job of searching each car. They were removing the luggage from the back. They even had a sniffer dog running around, on a long leash.

  “What the fuck?” I asked again. I didn’t hear how tight my voice was, but Ben must have done.

  “Calm down, Jake. We’ve planned for this. It’s just a routine check. We know they do it from time to time.”

  “How can I fucking calm down? They’re doing a routine search of every car, and we’ve got a hundred kilos of dope on the roof. We didn’t plan for this.”

  “Calm down. Jesus, Jake. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

  He had a point with this, and I took a few deep breaths. I watched as the border guards finally finished with the first car, and it drove away. To freedom. The line pulled forward one as they took the next into a bay and repeated the process.

  “Look, they’re doing every car. They’re going to do us.” It was the sheer surprise of it that got me more than the fear. I just hadn’t been worried about this crossing. I’d had my head in the clouds. Up my arse, maybe. And now, suddenly, we were facing disaster. The maximum sentence for smuggling dope is fourteen years in prison. So even though I could hear the panic rising in my voice, I wasn’t doing anything to stop it.

  “Mate, calm down. Tell me a joke or something,” Ben said.

  I turned to look at him.

  “I don’t know any fucking jokes. When I learn some in prison, I’ll write you,” I replied.

  “I’m just trying to distract you. OK. I’ve got something. I think Anna fancies you.”

  “What?” That threw me. Maybe that was his intention. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  “Someone told me.”

  “Who? What? Anna? What the hell are you on about?”

  The border guards finished with the second car, and it too drove away. They signalled for the next car to pull into the spot, wandered over to the driver, and asked him to open it up. They really were doing every bloody car.

  “I’m just trying to get you to think about something else,” he paused. “OK. I’ve got some news. Something interesting.” Ben grinned at me. “Did you know Julia split up with Andy this morning?”

  And of course that was interesting. Shocking. Just to hear Ben mention Julia’s name was strange, given how I’d been thinking about her so much over the last few hours. Then some implications dawned. Julia didn’t have a boyfriend anymore. The smallest of smiles crept onto my face. Then it changed to a frown.

  “How do you know that?”

  “She texted me. On the ferry.”

  She texted him on the ferry. We were about to be arrested for smuggling drugs, but Julia had texted Ben to say she didn’t have a boyfriend anymore. Julia had texted Ben. Not me, Ben.

  “Why did she text you?” I said, my voice strangling out the words.

  Ben didn’t answer, but he glanced over at me with that grin again. A naughty grin.

  “I couldn’t tell you, not while she was going out with Andy.”

  “Tell me what?”

  Again the grin. “We’ve sort of been seeing each other, on the quiet.”

  It was like I didn’t hear him. Or I did, but there was still, somehow, room in what he was saying for my fantasy relationship with Julia to not come crumbling down. But the foundations moved. Like in an earthquake. I wanted to undo the last few seconds, to un-hear what Ben had just told me.

  “I don’t believe you.” These words sounded angry and I realised they were inappropriate as I said them. They seemed to confuse Ben too. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. So he kept on, still sounding friendly, trying to convince me.

  “Honestly. She’s been sneaking into my room last thing at night, and then out again before anyone woke up. And then sometimes, when we were all watching TV in the evening, we’d have to wait until everyone went to bed. I’m amazed you didn’t notice.” He grinned at me, and I had to fight to keep the feeling of sickness and horror off my face. I reached for whatever other objection sprang to mind.

  “But she’s seeing Andy. She’s with someone. Who does something like that? That’s totally out of order.”

  There was confusion written all over Ben’s face now.

  “She was seeing Andy. He’s a prick. You said so yourself.”

  “Yeah, but fucking hell, Ben. Two-timing someone? That’s just well out of order.” Christ, I sounded like a schoolkid.

  We both sat there in silence for a while. The sudden tension made the air taste different. I don’t know why I kept on about it. Maybe I didn’t believe him. Maybe I needed proof.

  “What do you mean you’re...” I could hardly say the word, “seeing her anyway? What does seeing mean?”

  A half-smile reappeared on Ben’s lips. Like he wondered if his revelation could turn out the way he’d intended after all.

  “What do you think it means? You want details?”

  “No, I mean...” I didn’t know what I meant. The words were just falling out of me. “I mean, how did it happen?”

  Ben gave me another smile, which I blanked.

  “It was the day you had that interview. Do you remember? When you came back pissed and knocked on my door, wanting a joint? Well, that evening, it was just me and Julia in the flat, and we were just downstairs, watching TV, when she said she wanted to ask me something. Something personal.” Ben bit his lip and glanced over at me; he seemed reassured by my face. His eyes told me: You’re gonna like this.

  “What did she ask?” I said, but I had a feeling I probably knew.

  “She asked me if I liked her tits! She came out and asked me, and she just took her top off—she didn’t have a bra on or nothing, and she asked me to feel them and tell her what I thought.” Ben stopped and glanced across at me again, gauging my reaction. “Pretty crazy, hey?”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I did exactly what you’d do. I felt her tits for a bit, and then I took her upstairs and fucked her.”

  And that was what really floored me. I realised at that moment that I had blown it. I’d had exactly the same opportunity, only I didn’t do it. Heaped right on top of my fantasy being shattered, right on top of being arrested any minute, I also felt like a loser.

  Somehow, buried under my misery and shock and fear, I realised I had to fake surprise at this stor
y. Fake being impressed.

  “No way!” I forced a look of surprise. “She really did that?”

  “Yeah. You see, she’s been thinking about getting them done. You know, plastic surgery, making them bigger. So she wanted me to have a good feel, tell her if I thought it was a good idea.”

  “And what did you say?” How did you do it, Ben? Where did I go wrong?

  “I said yeah, it was a good idea. I mean, she’s got nice tits, but they can always be bigger, right?”

  I pictured the two of them down there on the sofa, Ben’s hands all over her breasts. I could see it perfectly because I'd been there. I could still remember how soft her skin felt. Ben’s voice interrupted me.

  “Hey, mate...”

  I looked over. Said nothing.

  “You need to pull forward.”

  Blankly, I looked out the windscreen. The border guards had finished searching another car, and the line in front had moved on one. Spots of rain started to dot the windscreen. Automatically, I put the van in gear and closed the gap to the car in front.

  “Yeah, and... you’ll like this,” Ben went on, somehow missing my shocked, hurt face.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Well, she hasn’t got the money for the operation. On her tits. I mean, she really wants it, but she can’t afford it. And it’s a good idea, you know, if she wants it.”

  I frowned.

  “So I said to her that when we get back, you know, with the dope, I’ll buy it for her as a present. The operation. I’ll buy it with my cut!”

  I was quiet for a moment.

  “You told her about the trip?”

  For the first time, Ben looked a bit sheepish.

  “Yeah, I had to. I told you she was coming to my room, and you were in there during the days, making such a mess with the boards. She asked what it was all about. I had to tell her.”

  She’d known. That time when I hinted what we were doing. She already knew. Because she was shagging Ben every night. I didn’t know what to say or think, so I just said:

  “Yeah.”

  Ben grinned at me again. I guessed that in his mind, this had ended up the way he wanted it.

  “She won’t mind me telling you. That we’re seeing each other. She knows you’re my best mate.”

  I nodded and fixed a sickly smile to my face, suddenly hating Ben with every ounce of my being.

  “Don’t tell her you know about the tits, though. That’s kind of private, you know what I mean?”

  27

  Three cars in front the men wait for us, dressed in their uniforms and high-visibility jackets. They look suspicious. I’ve got the engine running—all the cars in the queue have—but the engine doesn’t idle smoothly in Ben’s van, remember? So I have to keep revving it. I can see one of the uniforms keeps glancing at us, like that’s annoying him.

  “Don’t rev it so hard,” Ben says, getting a bit nervous now. “Don’t draw attention to us.”

  I can’t bring myself to look over at him. My best friend in the world, who’s just knifed me in the back.

  The brake lights on the car in front go off, as the queue crawls one place forward. I have no choice but to follow. What else am I going to do, reverse back onto the ferry? Even if I wanted to, there’s a solid line of traffic blocking us off, and concrete barriers tight up against us on either side. We could make a run for it, just open the doors and leg it, but what good would that do? They’d probably catch us before we got out of the port, and even if not, how long can you last on the run? So our van tinkles as I move forward, from the bottles of wine and beer in the back. If only that was the problem.

  Just to spite Ben, I give the engine a big rev.

  “Easy,” he says, anxiety spreading into his voice now.

  I almost can’t bring myself to answer him. But I can’t tell him how I feel about her, not after what he’s just told me. So I go with the other problem. Even though I barely care about it now.

  “We’re gonna get caught and go to prison. And you know what Ben?”

  He looks across at me.

  “What?”

  “It’s all your fault.”

  I stare at him, and I see the confusion and hurt in his eyes, and it’s what I was hoping for. It makes me feel just a little bit better. But then he blinks it away and I see his confidence come back, but it’s an effort.

  “Jesus, Jake, what’s got into you? Have a little faith. They’re not going to find it. You did a good job.”

  For some reason this snaps me right back into the present. They really are searching every car, which really does mean we’re in big trouble. A sudden hope flares up in my brain like a match striking: Can I blame all this on Ben? Just blurt it all out to the customs guy when he leans down to tell me to get out of the van? It was Ben’s idea, so surely that makes him more guilty than me? But no. That’s never going to wash. Ben might have come up with it, but I’m sitting right here in the van with him. I’m in this just as much as he is. And like when the phosphorous on a match is all gone and the flame hasn’t caught the wood, it died straight out.

  The car in front moves forward another place. Just one more car in front of them. We’re close enough now to watch how this works. The customs officer, the same one who looked pissed off at me for revving the engine, beckons the car at the front of the queue into one of the bays where they do the searches. He goes round to the driver and taps on the window. I guess he tells the driver to get out because the door opens, and a man steps out. They walk together to the boot, and the driver opens it. It’s a big car, a Volvo, and I can see little heads in the back, kids. Then the customs guy starts poking around. The driver leans in like he’s trying to help, and he gets told off. He puts his hands up like they’re gonna shoot him or something. Then they both calm down, and the customs guy points to the wall, and the man goes and stands and watches from there.

  Then they get the dog, a spaniel or something. Another officer has it on a lead, and its little tail is doing circles, it’s so excited. It jumps into the boot of the car and sticks its nose down. Tasting the smells coming out of the bags. Tasting the air in the car. Tasting with its nose, thousands of times more powerful than any human nose. I get a horrible feeling in my gut, like I’ve been punched. We sort of planned for a dog, but we didn’t really. We were messing about then. Ben might have been serious, but I was just showing off how well I could fix up the boards. I still wanted Ben to like me back then.

  Tasting the air in the car.

  That phrase suddenly strikes me. We might have the dope well hidden now, but a week ago we didn’t. Back then we just piled it up in the back of the van. Surely there’s going to be some smell left that the dogs are going to pick up. We didn’t think of that, did we?

  And now I know we’re going to get caught. There’s just no way around it. And forget what I said earlier, I do care. I care about what’s going to happen to me, I care about what my dad is gonna think. I feel my heart rate soar as I watch. I feel dizzy, like I’m about to pass out. My stomach feels like someone keeps punching me there, over and over again. I can’t believe I’ve put myself in this position. What the hell are they doing with a dog?

  “Jake mate, calm down,” Ben’s voice cuts through my panic. “We planned for this. We didn’t expect it, but we planned for it.”

  The words sound faraway, but they pull me back. Back into the van, back to the horrible reality.

  “They’re doing proper checks. We counted on them not doing proper checks.” Suddenly I’m back to trusting Ben will sort it all out. I can hear it in my voice.

  “Mate, you did a good job hiding it. They’re not going to find it. Relax.”

  I look across at Ben. Right now, I don’t know if I despise him or if he’s my only hope. But the thought of all that dope loosely piled in the back of the van crashes back in. My head starts to shake, it doesn’t feel like it’s me controlling it, it’s this simple, unfortunate fact. My head shakes even more.

  “You’re wrong B
en. We fucked up. We had the dope loose in the van remember? There’s no way that dog’s not going to sniff that.”

  And Ben suddenly gets it too. I see his face drop, his mouth fall open, as if to speak, but no words come out. We had all the dope just piled in here. Rubbing against the seats. No way the dog’s gonna miss it.

  Oops.

  Just then, the customs guy walks two steps toward us, calling us forward again. It’s our turn. I don’t move. I can’t move. He comes closer, looking pissed off that I’m holding him up. There’s nothing else I can do. I slip the clutch, and the van crawls forward.

  28

  I followed the guy’s directions and stopped in the search bay, then turned the engine off. For a couple of beats, the silence was reassuring. Then the officer’s face appeared at the window, indicating me to wind it open. I paused to try and get my heart to slow down, but then I did what he said.

  “Hello, sir, would you mind waiting over by the wall with my colleague while we check the van?”

  Yes, as it happens, I would mind.

  I nodded and tried to smile, as if this was exactly how I was hoping my holiday was going to end, and I got out and followed Ben to the wall. A second officer was there. The rain had stopped at least.

  “What’s all this about?” Ben asked him. I was amazed by how calm his voice sounded.

  “It’s just routine, sir. We’re checking all the vehicles coming in today. Nothing to be concerned about.”

  Unless of course you’re smuggling large quantities of drugs, his glassy smile seemed to imply. My mouth felt dry.

  Then the first officer called me back and asked me to open the van for him. I don't get why these guys aren't able to operate a simple door handle.

  “Are these surfboards?” he said, indicating the roof.

  “Paddleboards,” I corrected him, my mouth dry. The look on his face said he wanted a clarification. “Like surfboards but a bit bigger.”

  Please don’t ask me to take them off.