“I suppose the van would draw too much attention?”
“Very funny.” Brix finally broke his stare with the boxes and looked at Calum. “I mean it. You should just go to bed and let me deal with it.”
“Not happening. I’ve seen ’em now. You might as well let me help you. Sooner it’s done, sooner we can both get some kip.” In the cold night air, Calum felt more awake than ever, but Brix was exhausted. “Come on, mate. Let’s go.”
Daylight Brix would’ve probably taken more persuading, but moonlight Brix shrugged and picked up a box, holding it out to Calum.
Calum took it, then inclined his head. “Stick another one on.”
“Nah, just take that. I’ll come back for the last one.”
“Cock off. You’ve already schlepped up there twice if you’ve been carrying one at a time. Sling it on, Brix. I can take it.”
Brix’s frown turned sceptical, but perhaps remembering Calum had a stone or two on him in weight, he loaded him up with another box, before hoisting the last one onto his shoulder. “It’s a fair old walk. Let me know if you need to stop.”
It was Brix who stopped first in the end, at the bottom of the cliff path. “It’s pretty windy up there, and the path’s slippery. Stay tight, yeah? Walk where I walk.”
Calum nodded and leaned closer to Brix, raising his voice over the wind. “Are you all right? I can take your box too.”
Brix rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
And so they went, scaling the steep cliff path with careful steps, slowed down by the weight of their cargo. The crates were heavy and despite his chivalry, Calum was glad this would be his only trip, and felt awful that Brix had done the first two alone. No wonder he’s tired.
A particularly strong gust of wind blew Calum off course. He stumbled into Brix’s back, causing Brix to stoop low to steady them both.
“Okay?” Brix shouted over the wind.
Calum nodded, then remembered Brix couldn’t see him. “I’m good. Keep moving.”
They pressed on, battling the oncoming gale. The cold seeped into Calum’s bones, freezing his joints and numbing his fingers. Twenty feet from the cave, it began to pour a hard, driving rain that soaked his clothes, plastering his jeans to his legs. Great.
Calum navigated the final ascent to the cave’s entrance, following Brix around the rock and under the ledge, guided by the faint glow of Brix’s phone. Brix dropped his crate on top of the others. Calum followed suit and then took in the murky interior of the cave. It wasn’t what he’d pictured when he’d first seen Brix slip inside all those weeks ago. Damn. This wasn’t a cave; it was a fucking warehouse . . . albeit a tiny one, and he couldn’t help the low whistle that escaped him. “Jesus. What is all this?”
Brix covered the new stack of crates with some dusty tarpaulin. “I dread to think. Most of it comes ashore in the next bay over, same as it did back when we were a clan of wreckers.”
“Wreckers?”
“Aye, lazy smugglers . . . or thieves, really. The Lusmoore gangs would lurk on the cliffs in bad weather and falsely guide ships into the rocks, wrecking them so they could loot them when the storm cleared. Made my ancestors a tidy fortune.”
“Wow.” Porthkennack was like nowhere Calum had ever been before. Add in Brix and it was fair to say he was fascinated. “How does that link to now?”
Brix shrugged. “It don’t, ’cept my lot are still a bunch of pirates. They just bring the stuff ashore themselves these days. Got contacts in the shipping world, pals in Ireland and France. All sorts end up to my garden before some mug lugs it here, and to the other caves Peg’s cousin has a little ways over.”
Part of Calum wanted to ask exactly what Brix meant by “stuff,” but the rest of him wasn’t sure he could handle the answer. Would Brix go to this much trouble to move a few boxes of smuggled fags, or counterfeit vodka? Calum had no idea, and with old headlines about IRA gun smuggling running through his brain, ignorance suited him. “How often do you have to do this?”
“Once a month, sometimes more, depending on the tides. It’s my aunt Peg who drops me in it. Her gang went to shit when her fella got sent down, and she reckons if she dumps loot in my yard, she won’t have to get it up here herself. And she’s not wrong. I can’t have this crap anywhere near me. I’ve got a business to run, people who depend on me. Besides . . .” Brix’s expression darkened. “I’m not down with some of the pies Lusmoores stick their fingers. It ain’t right.”
It’s not guns, it’s not guns, it’s not guns. “Can’t pick your family, eh?”
“Nope. Thanks for helping me, though. There’s no one else I’d trust.”
That did odd things to Calum’s heart, but even in the relative shelter of the cave, the biting wind was bitter, and a violent shiver replaced any coherent response he might have had to Brix’s sentiment.
Brix frowned. “Fuck this. Let’s get you home.”
“I’m okay.”
“Bollocks. You’re fucking freezing—we both are—and it ain’t gonna get no warmer up here. Come on. I need my bed.”
