The Comedown

by Martin Doohan

  ‘Yes, that’s it, my friend.’ George peered out of the window, looking for Gary, but it was getting dark now and he assumed that as he’d pissed himself he would be in the shadows somewhere. The cab driver pulled up but George waved him on past the restaurant and stopped him at the next corner. He didn’t want to get out in view of the restaurant.

  George walked back and stood under a streetlight, allowing his considerable frame to be seen. Within seconds Gary appeared and George threw him the bag.

  ‘There you go pissy knickers. Get them on sharpish.’

  ‘Thanks George, give me two minutes.’ Gary retreated to a little refuge he had found behind a line of parked vans and changed into the dry trousers.

  Relieved, he returned to where George was waiting for him. ‘Thanks, George. Fucking lifesaver. Couldn’t help it though, they left the flat just as I was going to go for a piss…’

  George raised his hand to shut Gary up and said, ‘Well, now you’re decent, you’re going in there for a meal. They don’t know who you are so they won’t notice you. You wait until one of the lads goes to the toilet. Then you follow him and give them this envelope. The most important thing tonight is that they get the envelope. Once you’ve done that you leave the restaurant and meet me. We’ll take it from there. Is the restaurant busy? It looked it as I drove past.’

  ‘Yup, people in and out all the time I’ve been here.’

  ‘Then go and do some damage, Mr. Sparks.’

  Gary Sparks nodded. ‘Just one question, George. What’s in the envelope?’ Gary had his suspicions but wanted them confirmed.

  George smiled and handed the envelope to Gary. ‘Have a look’ he said with a dark grin.

  As Gary had expected the envelope contained the pictures he had taken. They were just snaps of young people having fun, two lads who were out of their depth and about to pay for it.

  ‘Now, Gary, make sure they get them, eh?’

  2.37 Brief Encounter

  Lassie was enjoying himself and felt relaxed. He looked across at Tom and said, ‘This place is superb, I love Lebanese food. let’s open a Lebanese place back home, it’d be rammed mate!’

  Tom smiled at his enthusiasm but he really couldn’t imagine the racist pricks back in Essex going anywhere near a Lebanese restaurant, the only thing they knew of Lebanon was Red Leb hash! They had even tried to turn the kebab van over when it first appeared in town.

  Tom and Pascale started discussing the merits of opening a restaurant specializing in a different cuisine from your own.

  ‘What about cafés though? They do all sorts of food: pizza, sandwiches, pasties, milkshakes.’

  ‘That’s exactly my point, Tom,’ Pascale said. ‘They aren’t specializing, are they?’

  ‘Mmm, I suppose not…’ He liked her a lot he thought. She was bright and sexy…

  Lassie stood up, excusing himself, ‘Just off to the toilet, this beer is going straight through me.’

  ‘Perhaps a little too much information, Lassie?’ Pascale smiled.

  ‘Sorry.’ Lassie laughed and walked towards the two doors to the toilets at the back of the restaurant. They were signposted with pictures of chickens – one with enormous breasts and the other with a huge penis. It would be hard to misread those. Once in the toilet he stood at the far end of three urinals. Just as he was congratulating himself on getting the urinal to himself a guy wearing a shell suit walked in and stood staring at him. Lassie hadn’t ever been propositioned before and decided he should say something to clarify what was happening, but before he’d worked out what he should say shell suit spoke.

  ‘This is for you.’ He placed a brown envelope on the sink and then the man carried on, ‘Look at it first and then share it with your mate, and your mate alone, if you catch my drift?’

  Lassie stood, rooted to the spot as the bloke turned and walked out of the toilet without another word, punch or kick. He stood, blinking in shock as he methodically put himself back in his jeans and approached the sink, staring at the brown envelope. He squirted some hand wash into his palms and nudged the faucet with the back of his palm. He slowly washed his hands, still staring at the envelope. As the water increased in temperature he realised he had been washing his hands for ages. He stopped, dried them and then with one hand picked up the envelope. He turned to the cubicle, went inside and closed the door.

  The envelope was lightly glued and opened easily. Inside it were photographs, four in all. He sat looking at them as the gravity of the situation began to make his arse twitch. One was of the girls’ flat, clearly showing the number. One was of Pascale and Tom on the small balcony and one was of him and Abi kissing at the bottom of the steps of the apartment. The last one was of Abi, signing to Pascale as they stood on the bottom step of the apartment.

  Lassie could barely control his panic and his mind was racing. This was serious. He then realised there was writing on the back of one of the pictures. He read it, spun around, pulled up the toilet seat and puked his gorgeous dinner and Almazas into the pan. He carried on retching until the tears in his eyes became tears of fear.

  ‘You in here, mate?’ Tom asked. Lassie had been a while and he’d seen people come and go.

  The door of the toilet opened and Lassie stood, looking at Tom. He stretched out a hand holding the pictures and offered them to Tom to look at. ‘We’re fucked.’

  Tom Adams looked at the pictures in disbelief and then read the messages on the back.

  ‘It’s time to come home and face the fucking music. You need to catch the 2pm ferry to Harwich tomorrow. Any fucking about will incur a penalty. The pictures should leave you in no doubt about who will pay that penalty. We’ll meet you in the front bar of the boat.’

  ‘Who gave them to you?’

  ‘A bloke in shell suit trousers. Just came in, fronted me and told me to show you.’

  Tom didn’t know what to do so he just gave his best mate a hug. He wasn’t going to cry but he was close to it. This was entirely his fault, no one else’s. Not Lassie’s, nor the girls. Just his. He tried to steady himself. He had to manage this situation carefully.

  ‘Nothing’s changed, Lass, nothing at all, don’t worry. The most important thing is to protect the girls. We’ll go back tomorrow and sort out the cash, just like we were planning. We’re just going a little earlier.’ Tom was trying very hard to be convincing even if he was close to breaking point. ‘Let’s just keep it together, eh?’

  ‘And do what mate? And do fucking what?’

  Tom shrugged and began laughing, ‘Pack, mate?’

  Tom picked up the photos and put them in his back pocket thinking they might potentially come in handy when they were back. He was trying to formulate a plan but hadn’t got very far with it yet.

  Lassie splashed some water on his face and they both returned to their table where the girls had finished and were sitting chatting.

  Tom spoke first as they both took their seats. ‘Don’t ask. You’d accuse me of giving you too much information.’ With this he winked at Pascale, who returned the wink and laughed, knowingly.

  ‘Anyway, boys, we’ve paid the bill, and before you argue we insist, we’ve had such a lovely time, even with everything you two have going on, so let dinner be on us please?’

  The boys accepted the offer with thanks. ‘What now then, ladies?’

  ‘We’re both shattered. How about grabbing some wine and heading back to the flat?’

  Tom thought this was probably the safest option. ‘Sounds cool, eh, Lass? In fact it sounds perfect. Lead the way ladies.’

  The four strolled back to the flat, the two couples hand in hand, stopping on the way for the boys to buy wine.

  Back on the sofas with glasses of wine and the TV on, it wasn’t long before they were all fighting the urge to let their eyelids collapse. Before they crashed, Tom raised the idea of travelling back on the day boat, mostly under the premise of getting out of the girl’s hair and sorting their mess out. He didn’t understand sign language
but he was sure both girls wholeheartedly agreed. Maybe a little too enthusiastically he thought, but who could blame them? Lassie and he had been on edge since the meal and he was sure Pascale could feel it. He had been half expecting to be kidnapped or worse on the way back to the flat and he had been scanning the streets all the way. Luckily though, nothing had happened. He imagined there was no need. They had made their intentions known and were probably sat in a bar somewhere laughing and discussing what they would do with them when they got back to the UK.

  Tom picked up the bottle of wine and replenished the glasses on the coffee table, then he sat back and dozed, hand in hand with Pascale, in front of Brief Encounter subtitled in Dutch. It seemed to please everyone and fit the mood. He was woken by Pascale. She stood up and walked him downstairs to her bedroom. He glanced behind him and grinned as he realised that Lassie and Abi had already vacated the sofa.

  3 The Green, Green Grass of Home

  3.1 Smug

  George and Gary had melted into the shadows. Gary had delivered the bomb and George was happy with the way things had gone. He sat and sipped his whisky; a decent single malt with two ice. He was content, was prepared to admit to himself, smug. Smug that he had fucked with those boys. Mind control and power, suspense and the sense of imminent threat were his greatest tools. That was what scared the shit out of people, and George was a man who enjoyed issuing the threats as much as he enjoyed delivering on his promises. Gary had asked if they should wait and follow them again. George told him there was no need. He had walked off, found a nice bar and had ordered them drinks. He understood the worm had very much turned and he was now in charge. He couldn’t help but pat himself on the back. His plan had been cruel, vindictive and arbitrary in its creation. The girls coming into the picture had done nothing but present him with an opportunity.

  Gary’s thoughts had been running along a very different line. He really wanted to know what they would do when they got back. Or even on the boat. They had the lads within their grasp now but what if they didn’t come up with anything? He wasn’t sure he wanted more violence now, especially after hearing about young Paddy and the Stones brothers. The whole week had taken its toll on him and he wasn’t sure he fancied it anymore. He thought it was all getting a bit out of hand, though he wasn’t sure how he would explain that to George. So he stuck with, ‘So, what now, boss?’

  ‘It all depends on what they have for us, Gary. If they scrape together the 6K it’ll show the little cunts have some balls, and then I’ve got a plan. If they don’t come up with it, well then we’ll break their fucking fingers for putting them anywhere near my pie and put them to work with our gear, for free, until we get bored of them and then, when the smoke has settled waste them. The old bill won’t bother too much. Just little boys who got in too deep.’

  George smiled and sipped his drink. ‘Come on, Gaz, I’m knackered. Let’s get back to the hotel. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.’

  Gary Sparks, puzzled as he finished his whisky, left a note on the bar and followed George out into the street.

  ‘So you’re saying if they come up with the 6K you’ll let them off?’

  ‘I didn’t say that at all Gary.’ George put his huge arm around Gary’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze that was slightly uncomfortable in a non-violent way. ‘I said I had a plan if they did.’

  It was simple. If the boys did in fact come up with the 6K it would be a bonus because George was fairly convinced that they hadn’t taken it anyway, and that it was probably his nephew and his stupid sidekick who had spunked the cash on their little holiday. But, if they did come up with the 6K it would show they were, at the very least, resourceful. So he’d use them to do some leg work, maybe a couple of runs up and down the country. He’d would still see them punished for what he saw as their part in the Stones brothers’ and his nephew’s death – when he was bored with them he intended to have them arrested, either with drugs or credit cards and enough gear to have them put away. He’d have plenty of time to plan that part. He could probably make sure they would suffer in the nick too.

  Gary wasn’t shocked by George’s confession that he was pretty sure they hadn’t stolen the cash, but was worried that he blamed them for the death of the Stones and Paddy. Paddy, after all, had lifted the cash in the first place and the Stones brothers worked with George. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for these two lads. They looked barely into their twenties and hadn’t done anything wrong yet were probably going to die or spend a long time getting raped in prison. He stood in the street, taking in what George had said. He had honestly thought there was a bit of honour amongst thieves. A kind of ‘values set’ that the people he knew had, a set of moral guidelines they should follow. It seemed to him that George was actually blaming these two lads for things that he had essentially made happen himself. It dawned on him that he was in fact, just a horrible cunt of a man.

  ‘So, you honestly think they didn’t take the cash then, George?’

  They stood, no more than two feet from the canal’s edge, and Gary Sparks could feel his hand, tucked in his jacket pocket curling into a fist.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I think now, Gary, the wheels are in motion and we are nothing but soldiers doing our duty.’

  Gary felt angry. He was close to knocking George Meachen into the canal, hopefully to drown, but was stopped by the realization of what would happen to him if it went wrong. Gary felt a cool breeze from the canal glide across his face as he unclenched his fists. He couldn’t believe what he had nearly done, yet regretted not doing it. Something had changed in him as he had listened to George and he didn’t know what to do apart from bury his thoughts for the time being at least.

  The two set off back towards the hotel in silence.

  ‘You OK, Gary?’

  Gary wasn’t. He had been looking at every dark alley, every road with poor lighting. Every skip with rocks or wood in that could be used to crush a head. Every little bridge they walked across, talking to himself about killing George Meachen and going home alone. It would be easy. A fucking mercy killing almost. He might even get a fucking knighthood.

  ‘Yeah, I’m OK, George, just tired.’

  3.2 If You Make It

  Tom opened his eyes and had a split second of thinking Where am I? He stood up, pulled on his clothes and opened the bedroom door. He could hear ‘Fools Gold’ by the Stone Roses playing in the kitchen. Abi and Lassie were already up and at the table eating breakfast. Lassie nodded, away in the music somewhere, Abi beamed a smile and carried on eating.

  Pascale was cooking eggs. ‘Morning, are you hungry?’

  He was and they were both soon tucking into scrambled eggs on toast, rocking along to the tunes.

  ‘It’s just after nine boys, but with a tram and then the train and checking in I’d say you need to be on your way by ten. We’re going shopping so will come with you as far as Centraal Station.’ Pascale made a sad face at this then smiled. ‘You’ll be back soon though?’

  ‘Yes, we will, I promise.’

  Tom glanced towards Lassie, they had struck gold with these two and if all went well they would be laying on a Dutch beach very soon. And if it didn’t, well he wasn’t ready to think about the alternative.

  Tom swallowed hard as he felt tears well up and a lump push into his throat. ‘But now we have to pack.’

  It was a bright Amsterdam morning and the tram arrived promptly. Tom and Lassie sat quietly through the whole journey, both looking out of the window as the city swept by. Abi began busily signing to Pascale who sat nodding and occasionally signing back and nodding quickly. Abi pointed ahead as the tram pulled alongside the huge façade of the main station and Lassie gave Tom the nod as they pulled past the car park where the whole Dutch leg of the adventure had started.

  ‘I know, mate, what a mental week, eh?’

  Once off the tram Pascale grabbed Tom’s arms and began to speak as tears welled up in her eyes. ‘You’re both very quiet and look very sad. You’re
scared. Abi and I are worried. We think you should tell the police. They will help, please. Do this for us. Abi is scared she won’t see you both again and so am I.’ She flung her arms around Tom and Abi did the same to Lassie.

  Tom kissed Pascale, and whispered into her ear. ‘Hey, calm down, its only au revoir. We’ll see you real soon.’

  ‘Really?’ Pascale asked. She Looked as though she didn’t believe it any more than he did.

  ‘Go and have a nice time shopping. I’ll ring the flat UK time nine, so ten here, OK?’

  ‘OK, promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  Abi and Lassie were still hugging as Tom picked up his bag, gave Pascale a final kiss and told Lassie to hurry up. They had to get moving and this goodbye was killing him. Lassie gave Abi a final kiss and then he followed Tom into the station.

  The train pulled into Hoek Van Holland just after midday. Tom had half expected them to be waiting for them but they weren’t and he heaved a great sigh of relief. He really didn’t want to see them any sooner than he had to. Lassie seemed equally anxious as he scanned the station.

  ‘Tom, look, there’s a little café. Better than going straight into the terminal.’

  They sat outside and looked at the menu. A local in a Hell’s Angels jacket who clearly owned the massive hog parked nearby recommended the local delicacy, called kibbling, which was fried pieces of white fish, usually cod, with a special sauce. The last thing Tom wanted to do was upset anyone else so they both ordered kibbling with chips. It turned out to be very tasty and the boys both nodded their thanks to the biker.

  Tom saw Lassie flinch, beckon him closer and began whispering very quietly. ‘Don’t turn around, Tom. Stay where you are.’

  As he spoke Lassie maneuvered himself so he could just see over Tom’s left shoulder out into the street.

  The position of the café gave them a direct view of the vehicle queue for ferry. As they had been chatting Lassie has spotted the shell suit drive into the queue in an Astra.