‘Is he on there then boss? Gary enquired.
‘Yeah, I’m pretty certain he is. What for, I don’t know, but he’s on there. Strange thing is he says in his note he is coming back, and he’s coming back to pay us our money. Whether I believe him is another question, as the little cunt has already lied to us once. Fuck knows what he’s up to.’
Gary shrugged, ‘Well, I haven’t got a fucking clue what the cunt’s up to, boss.’
With a sarcastic smile, George replied, ‘I didn’t expect you to, lad.’
They got back into the car and George told Gary to head back to the hotel in Colchester. They’d ask the night porter to book them on to the ferry the next morning with the car.
‘We’re going after them then? Fuck…’ Gary began to moan. Thankfully George was still mellow and a look reminded Gary that he wasn’t part of the decision making process.
‘Yes we are, Gary. Do you want to know why?’
Without waiting for a reply George carried on. He explained that by taking matters into his own hands, this little fucker Adams had tried to take control of the situation. This, in George’s view, was unacceptable and therefore would require some form of retribution. This was where Gary came in. He was also unsure of Tom Adam’s intentions and it was necessary to find out what they were, especially as he owed them 6k and the debt would be due at eleven tomorrow morning. He also explained to Gary that he thought this little fucker Adams could be up to something in Holland. It had to be Amsterdam and if they could get their hands on him there may be other spoils to be had from this little trip.
‘Fair enough, George, but how do we find him in Amsterdam, I bet it’s massive?’
‘I spoke to a fella while you were dribbling, you daft cunt. He said the boat docks at the Hoek Van Holland on the other side. Trains then take foot passengers to Amsterdam and beyond, but ninety-nine percent of foot passengers head for the capital. We’ll take the car and cut out all the waiting around shit, and catch up with him. He’ll be six hours ahead but we can shave two hours off of that by taking the car. Anything doing, we’ll get a sniff. And anyway Gary, I’ve never been to Amsterdam!’
Gary looked shocked. Was that a smile he just saw on George face? Nah, he thought, it must have been a shadow. He turned the car around and pointed it towards Colchester. Both men remained silent, for different reasons, all the way back to the hotel. Both had a large brandy and both made calls back home, for various reasons.
‘OK, Gary, I’m off to sleep.’ This was obviously a cue and Gary finished his drink and headed for bed too.
2.5 Duty Free
The two boys thanked the driver, tipped him handsomely with Taff’s money and waved goodbye.
‘Ready mate?’ asked Tom, adding ‘remember, Lass, you’re a legend. I love you, and if anything happens you know nothing. It’s all on me, OK?’
‘All cool here, squire, love you too you big fucking fruit. I hope this all works out OK.’
Lassie was feeling especially relaxed as they had basically been drinking steadily all day and he had smoked a huge reefer before they left. He stank of the Joop! Tom had sprayed on him to mask the reek of the green before they left.
They picked up their bags and wandered into the departures hall. Doing his best to hide it, Tom could feel himself sweating, and not just his armpits, crutch and forehead. He was convinced his liver, kidneys, heart and bones were perspiring at a rate that would justify a small towel…
Twenty minutes later, after a quick stop in their cabin and the bar, they were standing on the port side of the boat looking back towards the tip of Harwich and the Angel Inn pub, sipping an ice cold pint of Heineken.
‘Cheers Tom, I’m not gonna jinx anything but –’
‘Fucking don’t then, Lass!’ Tom said, interrupting as fast as he could. ‘This is barely out of the woods my friend.’
He didn’t want to alarm his wingman, but when they had first come outside and were looking down at the final cars coming on and the car park and the quay below, he’d noticed a Vauxhall Astra parked near the entrance to the car park. Just to the left of the car he had just made out the shape of a bloke staring at the ferry. He had watched this bloke, who didn’t move for minutes. Then, another man joined him and they both got into the car and drove off. The second man, he was sure, was the psychopath that he had seen in the car on the way home to Harwich on Tuesday when they had lost Razor. He was fucking convinced of it. That was the man he had spoken to on the phone, the man that evidently must know they had got on the boat. Clearly, Jon at the Victoria had either actively found these men or they had actively found him and he had then been bled for the note that he had left with Jon to explain the situation tomorrow morning when they were due to speak. He could feel himself begin to shiver. At least they were safe tonight though. He thanked god for small mercies, called himself a fucking hypocrite again and decided that Lassie didn’t really need to know about this as he deserved a good night’s rest before it really did all kick off.
‘Fair enough, I’m feeling your pain,’ Lassie smiled and raised his glass. Let’s have the craic tonight lad, it could be our last supper.’
‘Cut out the Catholic bullshit please, Lass,’ Tom pleaded.
‘It’s the guilt, lad, it’s the guilt.’
Tom laughed, “You’ve been a terrible Catholic since you were ten, you’ve barely had your cock out of your hand since then, you serial wanker!’ They both fell about laughing.
They wandered back inside to the bar area which was alongside a little dance floor. Both boys enjoyed the size and style of Dutch beer, and the way bar staff whipped off the bottle tops with their little beer knives. The events of the past three days eroded away like a sand dune in the wind with each drink. They were relaxed and beginning to enjoy themselves.
Lassie stood up and had a look about, ‘I’m off for a piss and a look in Duty Free.’
‘Too much information, but cheers, I’ll be here.’
Tom got a couple of beers in, one for Lassie on his return and then leant back in the chair and thinking that if this boat never docked he would be fine and dandy forever. Presently he saw Lassie smiling in the distance as he sauntered through the crowd. Under his arm was the biggest Toblerone Tom had ever seen.
‘What the fuck is that?’
‘It’s my lucky Toblerone, mate,’ Lassie replied, grinning.
‘Really, Lass?’
Lassie picked up his drink, had a look around and carefully handed Tom a small pill.
‘Just bumped into Egg. Top man. Took me off to his cabin, we had a quick spliff and he gave us an E each for the journey. He sends his regards, he’ll try to come say hello later, top man, eh?’
All Tom could do was agree.
As the E started to kick in the bloke in the DJ booth brought in a new tune with a drag back. The hair on the back of Tom’s neck stood up; he leant over to shake Lassie and pointed into the air and touched his ear at the sound of ‘I wanna give you devotion’. Both boys scrambled for the tiny dance floor and started applauding the DJ, who instantly cranked up the volume for them. The horns looped and the boys were flying. The dance floor was empty aside from two steppers but began gradually filling up with ravers from all over Europe who were equally going nuts. The DJ took his chance as the record began its descent to the finish. Over the top of the fading tune the boys heard ‘I can move any mountain’ get underway. The whole dance floor was moving as one to the Shamen and Mr C.
The boys jumped around mouthing Mr C’s rap. Both of them had forgotten the strife that they’d managed to tie themselves up in and were jumping round hugging, off their fucking tits. Lassie, bent over, motioned to Tom that he needed a rest and they headed back to their seats.
‘Beautiful’, said Tom as he picked up a still ice cold Heineken and took a gulp.
Lassie too, had grabbed a lager and they laid back in their seats and listened to the music and watched people dance. The tunes went a bit Euro pop but he was still playing some decent stuff. The boys
were enjoying themselves, especially watching two girls who were dancing not too far away from them.
Tom was sure one of the girls kept smiling at him. He looked over at Lassie, whose eyes were on dip and dazzle. He nudged him.
‘Hold it together, Lass, I reckon we could have a crack at these two birds.’ He flicked his head in the girls’ direction.
‘I can’t fucking see, Tom, I’m battered.’ Lassie grinned and swallowed some lager. He squinted, through his nutted eyes, ‘Oh yeah, I’ve got ‘em. Nice.’
They discussed their quarry, while having an undeclared competition to see which of them could use every single facial muscle.
The girls clearly loved Impedance’s ‘Tainted Love’ as much as the boys did and were putting on such a show that Lassie asked Tom if he thought they might be lesbians.
‘No idea,’ Tom replied. ‘I’m not too hot on Euro culture!’ And fell about laughing.
The janglers were starting to wear off now and their face contortions were beginning to subside. They’d been good though and the boys wondered whether they should hunt down the Egg and grab some more. They had agreed that this was an excellent plan and then another option arrived. Completely out of leftfield, the two girls who had been dancing appeared at their table and asked if they could join them.
‘Of course,’ both boys replied simultaneously and the girls sat down.
They looked very similar Tom thought, not unlike Lisa Stansfield, except that one had short dark hair and one had long dark hair. Shorty spoke first and said that she and her sister had seen them jumping around earlier and had thought they seemed like fun and they had in fact planned to come over earlier. ‘But you were looking a bit off your heads,’ Shorty said.
Shorty was called Pascale and her sister was Abi. They all shook hands. Pascale went on to say that Abi was deaf but she signed, which was probably useless to them but she could also lip-read very well if you were looking straight at her. Both boys nodded and turned to Abi and said hello.
‘You speak perfect English, and your sister can lip read in English as well as Dutch. That’s amazing,’ said Tom.
Abi began signing to her sister. She says, ‘It’s normal, it’s you lot that are fucking backwards…! And what the hell has happened to his face? He looks like he’s been in a fight with a dog?’
‘I know a little German,’ Tom said, suddenly embarrassed at his lack of a second language whilst ignoring the reference to Lassie’s injuries.
‘Just in case you get invaded, eh?’ Came Pascale’s razor sharp reply.
They laughed and the boys offered the girls a drink. Before long another round was needed, which the girls insisted on buying. Lassie’s explanation of falling down the stairs was heartily laughed away from both girls with a knowing look and was put on the back burner as the drinks flowed and the rushes from the pills became more distant in memory.
The girls came from Amsterdam and had been in the UK visiting friends in London. Tom said that they were just on a bit of a jolly to Amsterdam to take in a bit of culture, maybe a few cafes and maybe a few clubs.
‘I know many great clubs in Amsterdam, Tom,’ Pascale said, placing her hand on his leg. ‘You must let us take you out and show you around?’
She was gorgeous, thought Tom, a cracker. He looked across at Lassie, who seemed to be doing equally well with Abi, they were chatting, obviously at a slower pace due to her lip reading but they seemed to have made a connection.
‘We’d love that,’ Tom said. ‘We have to, uh, meet some friends in the morning. Perhaps we could meet up tomorrow evening, Thursday, that is?’
Pascale’s gaze had left Tom’s face, he followed where she was looking and saw Abi and Lassie were snogging each other’s faces off.
‘Jesus,’ Tom said, ‘it must be the Ecstasy.’
‘Well,’ Pascale answered, ‘my sister’s a bit of a… how do you say it… man-eater?’
‘That’s the one,’ Tom laughed, hoping the trait ran in the family…
They sat and drank, listening to the DJ bash out some half decent tunes for an hour or so more before Tom became tired and began to think about the morning. He was just drunk now and melancholy circled around him, trying to settle in for the night.
Lassie and Abi had been enjoying each other’s company and now Abi got her sisters’ attention and began a sign conversation. Tom could see what could only be described as a Dutch version of a Double Roger Moore appear on Pascale’s face but she shrugged her shoulders and signed what could have only been OK. She turned to Tom.
‘My sister has asked if I could sleep in your cabin so she and your friend can carry on in our cabin. Are you OK with that?’
Tom considered this change of arrangements for about half a second before replying, ‘Sounds fine to me.’
Almost instantly, Abi took Lassie by the hand and towed him off into the night.
‘Oi, Lass, you got your cabin card with you?’
Lass turned around and nodded at Tom before disappearing down the stairs toward the cabins, with a huge smile on his face.
‘Are you tired too, Tom?’ Pascale asked. ‘I don’t mind if we stay here for a bit.’ She nodded towards the half-drunk jug of beer and a brace of warming vodka, lime and sodas.
‘Let’s try and finish these then, eh?’ Tom said, and they settled down and began to chat. It seemed that the girls were quite well off and rented a nice apartment from their parents on the cheap. Her dad worked for ABN Ambro, a Dutch bank. She was 23, her sister was 24 and had been deaf since birth. Both girls were at university doing part time Masters degrees and worked in an Italian restaurant near Amsterdam central station. Clearly, they were very close. And Pascale was amazing.
‘Shall we go to bed, sorry, she blushed… to our, I mean your… cabin now, Tom?’
Tom couldn’t help wondering, was he in here? Was he? He didn’t know. The cabin was a tiny space for people who knew each other, let alone people who had only met four hours ago. Pascale grabbed his face and began kissing him, tongues and all. The erection was instant and he nearly came in his pants it was so sensuous. He was returning in kind when she brought the proceedings to a halt, gave him a peck and stood looking at him.
‘I like you Tom, but I’m not fucking you. Or at least not tonight.’ And she winked at him.
Trying to find the right words, Tom finally said, “OK, would you like to use the bathroom first? Oh, what bunk would you like?’
She laughed and replied ‘I like it on top. And thank you.’
The bathroom door closed and Tom sat on the bottom bunk, dazed and confused. He hoped Lassie was faring better!
When she had finished, Tom used the bathroom and returned to find the lights off apart from the little reading lamp in his bunk, he thanked Pascale for this and undressed and got into bed in his pants, the front of which were a tad fizzy, but he didn’t want to change them in case he exploded in the night. After all, how could he not dream about this?
They chatted a little longer, and Pascale even offered them a place to stay.
‘Goodnight, Tom. It was really nice to meet you both. I had a fun evening.’
‘Me too,’ Tom replied. ‘Goodnight.’
Tom laid in his bunk thinking. Thinking about Lassie’s chipped tooth and bent nose. Thinking about Razor and his leg, thinking about George Meachen and whoever that other bloke with him was. He was sure they would be on the boat tomorrow morning and that they would be looking for them as soon as. Jesus. It was all still quite a mess. Tonight had been good though. He’d had that feeling of safety as the boat pulled away. He ruffled the pillow and tried to close his eyes. He was only dozing when he heard some movement from the top bunk, Pascale was muttering something about having lost an earring. She climbed down and began searching the floor.
‘Put the light on,’ Tom said, ‘it can’t have gone far.’
‘It’s OK, I’ll be able to feel it. Get some rest.’
‘OK,’ he said and lay there listening to her rub the
floor.
‘It might have dropped onto your bed,’ she said and started rubbing over his duvet. Within seconds her hand had slipped under the duvet and had found his rock-hard cock. ‘Thought so,’ she said. ‘I can’t leave you like that, it would be unfair.’
Her hand began to glide up and down him, her thumbs massaging the fizzy bit and using it to lube his shaft, all it took was nine or ten soft strokes before he exploded with a grunt into the front of his Jockeys.
‘There you go, you’ll sleep well now.’ Pascale climbed back into her bunk, peered over the side and whispered, ‘See, I told you I wouldn’t be fucking you.’
As much as he has enjoyed it, Tom couldn’t help feeling like he had just been sexually assaulted… he’d sleep it off though he assured himself and wouldn’t be pressing charges. He pulled off his blown Jockeys, rolled over and drifted off to sleep, happily disturbed...
2.6 Morphine
Razor, eyes still shut but wide awake, lay trying to quell the moaning that had been going on inside his head for most of the night. The same ideas had been coursing through his head since he had seen Gary Sparks in the ward. If that evil bastard was around things had clearly gone a bit wonky. Where was Paddy? Was he with that Tom lad? What had happened to him? He imagined George and the others would be back for him. In fact, he knew they would be back for him. If Paddy had got away then he would have to carry the can for the debt owed by the both of them. The thought of what he might have to do made him fear for his life and contemplate the worst sin of all in his Mum’s eyes. The idea that suicide might be the easiest option scared him. He tried to feel his legs but couldn’t. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be running anywhere soon. How were his Mum and Dad? Were they alive even? He felt utterly helpless, he couldn’t even remember what he had told the nurses. Name, address, telephone number. He needed to get out of there but how? And where could he go? He had watched the nurse drift along the ward with the drugs trolley. If he could get his hands on that he could solve all his problems. Dead he would owe no one anything.
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