Heatwave by Oliver Davies (the red fox clan txt) 📗

them. Respected. Even Jules seemed to, I don’t know, listen to him, even though Alistair is half his size. There’s something about that kid.”

“We don’t know that he hasn’t been coerced, though.”

“No, I know. But I got a strong feeling that he’s perfectly willing to be there.”

Stephen hummed, accepting my words but not necessarily agreeing. “Do you wanna try the other kids, just in case?”

“Aye, it’d be good to have a second opinion.”

We didn’t have the contact details of too many of the other kids, but the ones we had managed to pick up and bring to the station, like Tiger and the kids who went joyriding a while back, we did call. The teenagers generally wouldn’t talk to us, and the parents all said they didn’t think their child was particularly into coding or working with computers. Still, they were teenagers, so most of them had a good grasp of technology.

“They have it easy, growing up alongside tech,” Stephen grumbled when I said this. “We had to learn it all from scratch.”

“I dunno what you mean, old man,” I said with a grin.

“Oh shut up, you’re really not that much younger than me.”

I chuckled at him, and he gave me a light push, which made me grimace. I admittedly partly exaggerated just to see the look on his face, but at least part of it was real.

“Aw hell, sorry. I forgot you’re still all banged up.”

“Just what I need, more bruises, thanks.” I grinned at him, though, letting him know I didn’t really mind.

We settled back into work, Stephen sifting through some more messages that’d popped up on the chat and me trying to find anything on Alistair that could confirm what Mickey had claimed.

“Hey, look at this.”

“Hm?” I turned to see what Stephen was talking about, and he gestured at the screen which showed the teenagers’ messages. I scanned over them, noting that the time stamp said that they were from minutes ago, and my eyes widened when I saw what they said.

“A pickup,” Stephen said, sounding both excited and grim at the same time. “What kind of pickup? That’s my question.”

“Aye, there’s no answer to that,” I said absently as I continued to read the texts over. “It could be anything, from this. Is there even a location?”

“Not yet. Maybe they’ll post it soon.”

I rubbed my chin, which was coarse with bristles I should’ve shaved off this morning, but I’d slept in and ran out of time. Something sat uneasily with me about the messages. They didn’t read right, somehow, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was making me wary.

“I don’t like this,” I muttered.

“What? You don’t like that we haven’t got a location? I mean, me either, but maybe you can ask Mickey about it.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. It doesn’t feel- I don’t know. What if this new messaging site is, like, a decoy? A trap? Something they set so they could know if we really were watching them or something. This ‘pick up’ is so vague, it doesn’t really fit with their crimes so far. We’ve had no reason to think they’re running drugs or anything, so what are they picking up exactly?”

“If it was a trap, wouldn’t it be specific? Like the date, place and time made clear so that they could watch the space, you know? See if we show up.”

“Good point. Maybe that’s still to come, and they’re spreading it out.”

“The site does seem quieter than the previous one, though,” Stephen admitted. “It does feel like… maybe they don’t trust it anymore.”

“Aye, aye, that’s what I meant.” I gave a firm nod, glad that he understood.

With no immediate answers forthcoming, we took a break to grab some more coffee. It was still uncomfortably warm, so taking ten minutes to drink iced tea in the shade outside was blissful, even if the light breeze was only sluggish.

The news had been full of talk about drought worries, farmers’ crops getting scorched, talk of a hosepipe ban, and how many people were in the hospital for heatstroke. The usual news had been briefly buried under a deluge of problems the unusually hot weather was causing, and I looked up at the bright blue sky as I thought about it, wondering when the weather would break and rain would arrive.

“Looking for inspiration from up there?” Stephen teased gently.

“Not yet.” I smiled slightly. “Though I wouldn’t refuse some answers if they wanted to come my way.”

“C’mon, let’s give your boy another call, and maybe he can tell you something, eh?”

So I called Mickey again.

“A pickup?” he repeated after I’d explained what we needed to know. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“Really?” I pressed.

There was a brief silence where I could hear Mickey breathing.

“Maybe I heard something, but they’d know it was from me if I told you.”

“You’re sure of that?” I said. “They must have told multiple people what was happening, wouldn’t they?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it was meant to be just a couple of people.” He sounded hesitant and unsure of himself.

“Alright, well, how about you tell me what you know, and we can decide whether to act on it or not? We don’t want to put you in any danger, either, okay?”

Finally, after a stretch of silence long enough to make me doubt whether Mickey was even on the phone anymore, he spoke.

“It’s petrol. They’re picking up petrol.”

“From where?”

“A garage, I don’t know, it was called Michaelson’s or something. One of the others works there.”

“The garage is giving them fuel?”

“No, they’re, y’know, taking it.”

“When are they stealing it?” I asked.

“Uh, tonight, I guess. It was going to be soon, anyway, but I wasn’t supposed to be there, y’know? They didn’t give me every detail.”

“Of course,” I reassured him. “Who did you hear this off, Mickey?”

“Jules was saying it, I guess.”

“Who was he telling?”

“Just a couple of the others.”

“In person?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I want to hear all the facts, that’s all. When did you hear this?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled, which meant he’d known before today and