by Paul Jones
The scouser cackled. ‘Ave yer erd this joker?’
‘Bollocks,’ sneered another.
‘No, not bollocks, my mate’s a copper, and he’s ready on standby. I’ve even given him your van’s registration number.’
‘Oh yeah, what’s his name then?’
‘PC Philip Davies.’ Geoff replied.
Someone, seemingly the leader of the gang and without a balaclava stepped forward. He had a shaved head and smiled, his gold tooth still managing to shine in the darkness. It was the Boss Man. ‘So you are all in this together, are yer?’
Tom, still kneeling in the grass, shouted over. ‘No, they’re nothing to do with this.’
Geoff and the others frowned at him.
‘Well, they are now.’ The Boss Man swaggered over to Geoff. ‘Think you’re pretty hard, do yer?’
Not wanting to antagonise him, Geoff kept his mouth shut.
‘Gozzo?’ He called, and a walking Sherman tank of a man stepped up.
‘Feel him out,’ he ordered.
The rest of the balaclava gang shoved everyone else back except for Geoff, and Geoff looked around warily. The six foot five tank stomped up to Geoff and kneed him in the stomach knocking the wind right out of him. Geoff hit the ground feeling as though he’d just been shunted by a Juggernaut. Mike, Guy, and Brad made a move to help, but the pistol barrels pointing at them convinced them not to. Geoff coughed, winded and tried to get back to his feet, but a foot the size of a canoe thudded into his side, knocking him over again.
‘Shit.’ Geoff winced knowing that he wasn’t going to able to take much more of this. He had to do something quick, so he played possum and stayed flat on his back. He waited for the man to stand over him ready to boot him again, then shot his foot up between his legs and kicked him full in the bollocks. The man staggered back like an old drunk, and clutched his sore balls. Geoff sprang back to his feet and delivered a crushing side kick to the man’s lower abdomen. Over he went like a bag of wet linen and in a flash Geoff was all over him like a rash, raining kicks and punches from all angles.
Finally, two balaclavas hauled him off, leaving the man rolling around like a beached whale. Guy, and the team, punched the air jubilantly.
“OK, OK, that’s enough,’ Boss Man ordered. ‘He’ll do.’
‘I’ll do, I’ll do for what?’ Geoff said baffled.
The man, still nursing his swollen balls, was hoisted back on to his size fourteen trainers by his two comrades, and had to be supported for a while. The rest of the team sighed, relieved, not only had Geoff survived, but he had actually won the fight.
Boss Man spoke up. ‘The thing is, you see, we already knew these dick-heads here’ – pointing to Tom, Charlie, and Nigel – ‘were going to Ship Inn tonight but we set a trap for them. They thought they were having a meet with one of my contacts. And then you lot turn up as well. Now that makes things even more interesting. The problem we’re facing here is that these three prats are into us for fifteen grand.’
Geoff and the team didn’t understand what the hell he was talking about.
‘They owe us fifteen grand,’ Boss Man underlined. ‘They stole our drugs off one our mules and then the silly prats tried to sell it back to us.’ He spat in disgust at the trio still on their knees. So here’s how we’re gonna sort it. As it happens, I also run illegal bare knuckle fights and have a very important event coming up for New Year’s Eve, but I’m a man down. Now the only way I’m going to make my fifteen grand back that they owe me is to get one of the three stooges here to take the vacant place in the fight. And being that you’re so concerned about fighting your mates battles for them, you can fight with them, or for them.’
‘No,’ Tom cried in protest and got clunked with the barrel of a pistol to shut him up.
‘Wait a minute…?’ Geoff interrupted, but was cut-off.
‘It’s your choice, if you fight, the debt is repaid and we’ll let you off. If you don’t fight, say goodbye to your mates.’
‘What if we lose?’ Mike piped up.
Boss Man drew a finger across his throat, then added. ‘You’ve got a day to think it over.’
‘Hang on a minute?’ Geoff objected. ‘What’s all this about fifteen grand that they owe you? We didn’t know anything about that.’
‘Ask Snoopy,’ Boss Man replied. ‘He’ll explain everything to you.’
‘Snoopy, you bastard.’ Tom snarled betrayed.
‘He’ll be the go-between, our messenger.’
‘Where the hell’s this Snoopy?’ Geoff asked.
‘Snoopy will be where he always is, he’s not going anywhere. You tell Snoopy your answer tomorrow, and he’ll tell us. You’ve got until six pm. Until then, we’ll hold your three mates as collateral.’ Boss Man gave the nod to his crew, and they began to haul Tom, Charlie, and Nigel off their knees.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll take very good care of them,’ The balaclavas sneered as they led them away, leaving Geoff and the team looking like lost survivors on a desert island.
But before he left them, Boss Man turned and said chillingly. ‘Oh, by the way, the fight itself is to the death.’
Tom tried to pull away from his captors shouting, ‘Geoff I’m so sorry.’
But Geoff and the team were too dumbstruck to say anything. All they could do was watch helplessly as their friends were being led away. Finally that all important call from Phil came through on Geoff’s mobile.
CHAPTER 22
On their way back home, Geoff and Mike were still in complete shock. They certainly hadn’t expected anything like this. What had started out as a tit-for-tat vendetta with a bunch of local thugs had now turned into a life-threatening money-debt with some big Merseyside drug gang. It was like something out of the movies. What the hell had they gotten themselves into? How the hell did Tom and Charlie end up owing fifteen grand to that lot? And how on earth did all this connect with the Wilkinson gang?
How could all this have started from one silly spat outside the Boulevards night club just over a month ago? Yet the worst part of it was now one of the team was going to have to fight a death match on New Year’s Eve to sort the whole thing out. Who the hell was going to do that? Who the hell would sacrifice their life for a fifteen grand debt? How on earth were they going to get out of this mess? They needed answers and quick.
Geoff asked Mike about this Snoopy chap and where they could find him. Mike assured him that he knew where he lived, and so between them that was to become their first priority. Tomorrow early morning, they would all pay Snoopy a visit and if he didn’t deliver, there was going to be another death match on the cards. In the meantime, Geoff prayed to God that this Snoopy guy hadn’t done a runner.
When Geoff got back home to Jan, he tried his best to act as normal as possible and hide his cancerous worries. But Jan knew him only too well and kept pestering him what was wrong. Of course he couldn’t tell her the whole truth, as she would fly into a raging panic, and want to phone the police straight away. To shut her up, he told her that all the trouble they had been having with that gang would soon be over, and when it was, he would quit the team for certain. It just wasn’t worth the hassle anymore.
During the night, Geoff felt like he was lying on a bed of thistles, he couldn’t sleep a wink. Even though Jan was lying beside him, she might as well have been a million miles away. How he wished he could confide in her and be comforted by her. And in return she would reassure him that there was an easy way out for him and the team. If only.
Geoff shook his head against the pillow, no. There was no easy way out of this mess, especially with the dreaded prospect of that death match? Deep down, he knew that when it came down to the crunch, he would be the one that would have to fight. After all, he was the leader of the team, he was the main instructor, and was the most experienced fighter in the squad. Therefore, the honour, the obligation, and the responsibility would naturally fall upon him. Great, he huffed quietly to
himself.
And yet, if it did come down to the fight itself, Geoff began to question whether or not he could actually go through with it. Could he really risk losing everything, his life, his beloved Jan, and the thought of leaving her a widow? The answer to that was a resounding no.
Yet, could he also just drop everything and run away, and leave his friends to the mercy of these so called criminals? Could he walk away and let them die at the hands of these scum? Once again the answer was no.
*
The following morning, a day before New Year’s Eve, all the team phoned in sick from their day-time jobs in order to try and sort out this complete mess.
Inside a run-down block of flat lets on the outskirts of town, the front door to one of the rooms was kicked open with a reverberating crash. The team stood in the gaping doorway, and a whiff of God knows what instantly greeted them.
‘Jes – sus,’ Geoff scowled.
The room itself looked like the inside of a washing machine full of dirty laundry. On what appeared to be a bed, Snoopy, who hadn’t even stirred with the racket, lay to one side of the bed curled up in a foetal position. Beside the bed on a small wooden cabinet, lay a used syringe, a tablespoon, and the powdery remnants of some narcotic drug. Mike rushed over and grabbed him by the scruff of his grubby Tee-shirt.
‘Wake up, you double-crossing little bastard,’ he snarled in his face.
‘Shit, he hasn’t overdosed has he?’ Guy feared.
Snoopy began to stir like a patient coming round from a heavy dose of general anaesthetic.
‘No, someone’s drugged him so they could keep him here,’ Mike said throwing him back down on the bed fruitlessly.
‘How do you know that?’ Geoff asked.
‘Because otherwise he’d have done a runner after what he’s done.’
‘So how the hell are we going to get him to talk?’
Mike blew helplessly. ‘We’ll just have to wait for him to come round.’
Geoff turned away in defeat. ‘Great. That could take hours, something we can’t really afford right now.’
So for the next hour and a half, they slapped him, they tried dousing him in cold water, they even went out and fetched coffee to try and bring Snoopy back to his senses. At last, their efforts seemed to pay off, and Snoopy began to respond. Once they had his attention, Mike straddled him on the bed, while the others stood glowering down at him.
‘Why did you do it, Snoopy? Why did you sell us out to that gang? Give us one good reason why we shouldn’t finish you off right now?’
Snoopy rolled his head from side to side, trying to shake off the muddling effects of last night’s drug. ‘They’ve got my girlfriend as well,’ he slurred. ‘And they told me if I didn’t set you up they would O.D. her.’
Mike glared down at him, just itching to pound him into the filthy mattress.
‘So, what’s all this about Tom, Charlie and Nigel owing them fifteen grand?’
Snoopy asked if he could sit up, and have a glass of water, and Mike reluctantly climbed off him while Brad saw to the drink. Snoopy proceeded.
‘Apparently Tom, and Charlie stole a package containing about a half a kilo or so of cocaine from some lad in Llandudno who was a mule for the Wilkinsons. But the Wilkinsons themselves work for one of the top drug gangs in Liverpool, so it was actually their property.
Then thinking they were going to make a mint out of their little bundle, they, through a contact of mine, made the mistake of slinking off to Liverpool to try and sell it to this gang.
‘Now the gang know who swiped it from them in the first place, and because they lost their connection, they want their fifteen grand’s worth in money or blood.’
‘So how did they know it was their drug?’ Brad asked.
‘They know because of the way they’ve mixed it, and tested it, the way it’s packaged and all sorts.’
Guy interjected. ‘Well, how did the guys know that the gang was after them then?’
‘They sent a team down after them.’
‘You mean the ones that met them outside the Wetherspoons?’ Asked Mike.
‘I thought that was the Wilkinsons.’ Geoff frowned.
Snoopy shrugged ignorantly.
Geoff then raged. ‘What the hell are Tom and Charlie doing stealing and selling drugs in the first place? Silly sods. Did you know anything about that, Mike?’
Mike spun around shocked at Geoff’s insinuation. ‘No, I had absolutely no idea.’
‘So what does all this have to do with our war with the Wilkinsons?’ Guy interrupted.
‘What war?’ Snoopy scratched his sweaty forehead.
‘The war we have with the Wilknisons because of that night outside the boulevards.’ Geoff explained.
‘There is no war,’ Snoopy said. ‘This Merseyside gang are only after Tom, Charlie, and Nigel because of the drugs they stole from one of their mules. The fact that you had a problem with one of the Wilkinsons didn’t even come into the equation. At first, yeah, there was the possibility that they might retaliate but it never happened. Then when word got to them that this drug gang from Liverpool might be after them instead they pretended to you it was the Wilkinsons to just cover themselves.’
Everybody was speechless, then Geoff found his voice.
‘Wait a minute, are you trying to tell us that the Wilkinson gang were never after us in the first place, and all this tit-for-tat revenge was all for nothing?’
Snoopy nodded. ‘That was until you involved yourselves last night.’
Mike jumped in. ‘Well then how could you have known about last night then?’
‘Because I got a visit straight after the incident last night telling me that the original plan had now been changed because of you lot. And now one of you would have to fight instead. And that you have until six pm tonight to decide. Then they stuck the syringe into me to keep me here.’
Geoff plonked himself down on the edge of the tatty mattress and thought of his two treacherous team mates. ‘Well, thanks for that lads.’
‘So that’s why they didn’t want to get us involved.’ Mike spoke-up. ‘That’s why they made me promise not to tell any of you lot. They knew what they had gotten themselves into, and wanted to sort it out between them.’
‘Yeah, but by helping them out we’re now in it up to our necks,’ Brad hit back.
‘Yeah, OK, but if we hadn’t tried to help they probably wouldn’t be alive now would they?’ Mike retorted.
Geoff shook his head. ‘Still hasn’t solved the problem though has it? One of us now has to fight a death match because of their stupidity.’
Guy stepped towards Snoopy. ‘So what are these fights actually about?’
‘SAC fights,’ he replied.
Everyone gave him blank looks.
‘Skull and crossbones – death matches. No weapons, just hand to hand combat.’
‘Seriously?’ Geoff questioned.
‘Oh yeah. I know someone who went to one of them, and what he saw still haunts him to this day,’ Snoopy told them.
Geoff began to feel nauseous, this was not what he needed to hear right now.
‘How the hell can they get away with killing someone in a death match like that?’ Guy asked.
‘Oh, believe me, they have ways of disposing of bodies. Sometimes they’re discovered in fatal car accidents, sometimes they’re chopped up…’
Geoff cut him off, ‘OK, we’ve heard enough.’
‘So, who’s going to be the opponent?’ Mike asked.
Snoopy shrugged. ‘Dunno, but I can find out if you want?’
‘Do it!’
Snoopy nodded obediently. ‘So what do I tell them about the fight, are you going to go through with it?’
Geoff turned to him. ‘What happens if we don’t?’
‘They’ll probably kill them, and then they might come after you for the money owed. Bloody glad it’s not me.’
Mike gave h
im a snarl, then turned back to Geoff. ‘So what do we say?’
‘I don’t know. I need to talk to someone first. For now, just get Snoopy’s number,’ he ordered just wanting to get out of this hell hole.
The others all followed except for Mike, who did as he was told and got the number. But before leaving he warned Snoopy that he better be ready to answer when they called him back or he would be next on their list.
Back inside Geoff’s car, Phil the copper rang through on the mobile. As Geoff spoke to him, the rest of the team sat and waited with bated breaths.
‘Right, we’re on our way,’ Geoff informed, and ended the call. ‘Phil wants us to go straight over to his house now he’s got something he needs to tell us.’
The team rolled their eyes as if to say, what now.
As Geoff started the car, Guy spoke up from the back seat, ‘If this thing does go ahead, Geoff, how are we going to decide who’s going to fight?’
Geoff glared back through the rear-view mirror and uttered ominously, ‘I think we all know who that’s going to be.’
Reaching Phil’s home in the junction, the team filed straight into the living room, and a couple of extra chairs were laid out for them. Phil sat perched anxiously on the edge of the couch rubbing his clammy hands together.
‘So what have you found out so far?’
Geoff leaned forward in his chair. ‘As it happens, Tom, Charlie, and this guy Nigel have stolen some drugs from this big Liverpool firm, and now they owe them fifteen grand.’
Phil’s head dropped into his hands.
‘And to try and cover their tracks they pretended that the Wilkinsons gang were after us. Apparently we were never at war with them in the first place. But because we intervened with this other big Merseyside gangs plans last night trying to save these damn idiots, one of us has to save their skins by fighting a death match tomorrow night.’
Phil’s sheet-white face emerged from his hands. ‘Oh, the silly, naive greedy bastards. How the hell did they get hold of those drugs in the first place?’