by Roger Busby
When Malloy had gone, Alex Donnelly called in two of his biggest and ugliest yard hands and dispatched them to Bodkin’s Deptford garage with an invitation the man couldn’t refuse, unless he fancied a length of lead pipe bent over his cranium. They returned with a pasty-faced man who seemed to be having some trouble with his breathing.
“Hello Odds,” Donnelly greeted him affably, “Long time no see,” he rose, smoothing down the jacket of his pinstripe suit and nodded to the minders to release their grip on the man’s arms, “good of you to come at such short notice.”
Bodkin gasped for air like a stranded fish, breath wheezing from his lungs. His voice was a nasal whine: “I thought you and me were mates, Alex, you didn’t have to send these gorillas to work me over, busted half my ribs.”
“Tried to leg it out the window, boss,” explained the larger of the two messengers, “got so excited we had to give him a slap to settle him down.”
“All right, lads,” Donnelly told the pair, “just wait outside a minute while I talk to Mr Bodkin here, I’m sure there’s no hard feelings.”
When they were alone, Donnelly poured his guest a drink. “What I want you to understand, Odds,” he said apologetically as he handed over a generous tumbler of whiskey, “is there’s nothing personal in this whatsoever, it’s pure business.”
“What’s going on Alex, what’d I do?” Bodkin yelped, gulping at the Scotch in an endeavour to fortify himself.
“It’s a long story,” Donnelly told him in his quiet courteous manner, “but lets put it this way, you’re a good careful villain, Odds, I’ve got to give you that, nice thriving little firm ringing bent motors and shipping ‘em out without the law getting so much as a sniff. Nice sensible living with plenty of prospects, just the kind of entrepreneurial spirit the Government’s always banging on about,” Donnelly’s voice grew cold, “so why, oh why, did you have to go and spoil it by getting mixed up with this toe rag Ricky Rikeman eh?”
Bodkin’s eyes widened, but he still tried to brazen it out. “I don’t know what you mean, Alex.”
“What I mean,” Donnelly explained patiently, “is you fitted this scum up with an alibi stuffed full of porkies.”
“Hey, Alex,” Bodkin cried, “what d’you mean, porkies? What would I do a thing like that for?”
“And the trouble is,” Donnelly went on, ignoring the protestation, “owing to certain adverse circumstances affecting me and my associates, although it does go against the grain, I’m going to have to get you to throw this scum-bag Rikeman to the wolves.”
“For God’s sake, Alex,” Bodkin blurted, his face ashen, “it wasn’t my idea, I just went along with it, he was a loser, owed us big time and promised to ante up if we pulled him clear of the Old Bill. Jesus, if I’d known it was going to cause you grief, Alex, I’d’ve told ‘em to shove it, straight up, on my baby’s eyes I would.”
A faintly regretful smile touched Donnelly’s lips. “No sense in getting all worked up, Odds,” he said, “as I explained, this is purely business. We’ve always got on well in the past, you stick to your side of the street and I stick to mine, but you see it finally comes down to a question of priorities.”
“What do you want me to do, Alex, “ Bodkin asked desperately, “anything you want, just name it.”
Donnelly examined his fingernails: “Like I said, I want you to dump Rikeman, make a new statement to the police; say you were confused, mistaken. An honest mistake eh? Must have been someone else. I’ll take care of the arrangements.”
“Anything you say, Alex,” Bodkin gabbled, “you’re the boss, anything you say.”
“You’re still missing the point,” Donnelly spoke quietly, polishing his nails and inspecting the shine, “I’m going to have to make an example of you Odds so that all those one-eyed-jack cronies of yours get the message and follow suit. But I want you to believe me when I tell you there’s absolutely nothing personal in this at all. You’ve got to look on it as a business transaction, a little sacrifice in the name of goodwill.”
Bodkin yelped in fright as Donnelly recalled his henchmen and they dragged the man out to his car, a midnight blue Bentley Continental GT and deposited him behind the wheel. “Nice jam-jar,” Donnelly admired the soft cream hide interior and sleek lines of the luxury limo, sitting there sleek and contented in sharp contrast to the dirty yellow Hy-Mac yard crane which loomed over it, it’s four great rusty claws poised over the roof.
“I’d belt up if I was you, clunk click,” Donnelly advised as he stepped back and nodded to the crane operator. The talons swooped down and seized the car, rocked it on it’s suspension then swung it effortlessly into the air, glass and paint flakes showering down as the hydraulic grab bit into the roof. Roaring and belching smoke from its exhaust stack the Hy-Mac jiggled the car in mid air then crashed it to the ground. A wheel spun off and went bouncing into the scrap pile. Bodkin was screaming in terror as the crane heaved the car into the air again, shaking it like a terrier worrying a bone. The bonnet flapped and the boot lid lurched open on impact as the crane let go and the Bentley crashed back to the ground.
At Donnelly’s signal the process was repeated several times until bent and buckled, the no longer sleek Continental looked very sorry for itself and from inside the wrecked car Bodkin could be heard wailing hysterically. After a while Donnelly gave the order for the claws to relax their grip setting the car down for the last time with a shriek of tortured metal. Odds Bodkin had screamed himself hoarse as battered and misshapen the once epitome of luxury automotive design had been effortlessly reduced to scrap. He was gibbering like an idiot when they hauled him out of the wreck and deposited him at Donnelly’s feet. Spittle drooled from his lips and his eyes swivelled in his head as he scrabbled about in the dirt and ended up clinging to Donnelly’s leg.
“Like I said, no hard feelings, Odds,” Donnelly told him solicitously as he plucked a bejewelled Day-Date Rolex from Bodkin’s limp wrist, “Oh and I hope this fancy motor of yours is still under warranty, otherwise I think you just lost you no claims bonus.”
ooOoo