Free The Rocks Below by Nigel Bird Page A

you’ll shout for Mrs Munro, let me tell you that she’ll already have her earplugs in. She couldn’t hear an atom bomb with those in.”  
          “ Are you crazy?  I need to pee.”  Sam had suddenly become aware of his full bladder and started jiggling up and down on the spot.  
          “ Window.”  Dougal nodded over to the tiny slit of leaded glass.  
         Sure enough, the window was big enough to pee out of but there was no way they were going to be able to climb out of there.  
          “ Are you taking us hostage?” Hashtag asked.  
          “ You can leave in the morning once you’ve show your wounds to anyone who needs to see it and soon as you’ve told your story and we’ve got the bomb squad over to those monsters you’ll be free to go wherever you wish.  
         Sam pushed his way past Hashtag. “Get out the road, I’m busting.”  He opened the window and let out a satisfied gasp as he watered the roses in the flowerbed below.  
         Hashtag sat in the corner. He pulled out his Blackberry from its waterproof cover and began to write the first of many messages that he’d send that evening as he began calling in as many favours as he could muster.  
     
    Fight Them On The Beaches
    At half past 8 the next morning, Dougal, Hashtag and Sam were all awake.
         Dougal got up from his armchair, walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Anyone fancy a brew?”  
         Sam’s jaw dropped open and he looked over to Hashtag for an explanation.  
          “ You mean we weren’t locked in at all.”   
          “ Course not. I wouldn’t do that to my mates. That key hasn’t worked since before we moved in and that’s over nearly thirty years.”  
          “ Ha Ha.”  Sam threw a pair of rolled up socks at Dougal as he left the room. “Coffee. 2 sugars. And I’ll need a go on your phone. I’d better call Dianne or I’ll be grounded for weeks.”  
     
    Rose made them the works for breakfast:  croissants, juice, eggs, beans and hash browns, a pot of coffee and an endless supply of toast.
         True to his word, Dougal asked the others to accompany him to the police station so that they could report the incident of the night before and could show the marks on their legs as evidence.  
         Hashtag seemed to take it all surprisingly well, seeing as he was passionately against the idea. He went along with the whole thing and offered to hang around until the soldiers appeared once it had been decided that blowing up the rocks would be the best solution on offer.  
         Sergeant Timms, a portly man with the ruddy completion of a drinker and a grey moustache that looked like it had been badly stuck on, phoned Edinburgh to arrange some press coverage for the afternoon.  
         A squad of army engineers would start the mission in Dunbar at 2pm and work their way west until all was done.  
     
    Photo finish
    Jenny Wilson sped recklessly from Edinburgh to Dunbar, collecting 2 speed camera photographs on the way – at least she’d had her hair done.
         As she whizzed off the A1 round the roundabout with the strawberry farm, her laptop and briefcase slide from the passenger seat and into the door.  
         When she pulled in to a parking bay at the swimming pool, she checked herself in the vanity mirror and decided she looked perfect – not enough make up to look like she was going out on the town, just enough to give her the look of a sexy professor.  
         It was a quarter to 2 and she had a whole 15 minutes to amble over to the beach and to meet up with the reporters from the BBC and ITV and whoever else bothered to turn out so she could give them the background to the story.  
     
    Point Break
    Hashtag and Dougal stood in the ruined, red wall of the castle and looked down at the beach.
         Dougal looked his normal self, but Hashtag looked like a new man, sporting the tweed jacket,