‘It’s them, Tom. They’ve just pulled up in an Astra.’
‘Well that’s not exactly a shock is it, Lass? After all, they did insist we were on this fucking ferry.’
Yeah yeah, just made my arse twitch though. I’m fucking scared now, Tom. Actually scared.’
‘So am I, mate, but there isn’t much we can do to the change the situation is there? Now come on, we might as well get on board.’
‘What about the cash?’ Lassie asked.
‘It’s in my socks Lass, and its legal tender. If we do get stopped, we’ll say we won it in a poker game, or at pool, or in a casino. It’ll be OK.’
Lassie laughed, ‘I’ve never been in a casino!’
The boys slowly walked back up the platform and into the terminal. Tickets were checked, customs passed through and in less than twenty minutes they were walking along the gangplank and onto the ferry.
Tom was feeling it now. His legs were shaking and sweating. He headed for the nearest toilet, closely followed by Lassie, and into the first cubicle, he quickly whipped down his trousers before his stomach fell out of his arse. Lassie was in the stall beside his, he could see his Reeboks under the partition.
‘You OK in there, fella?’
‘Yeah. I’ll meet you outside. If you make it.’ Lassie chuckled nervously as he pulled up his jeans and left Tom to his own devices.
3.3 For The Foreseeable
Gary had felt odd since the night before. He felt like he’d had an epiphany. The very fact that George had essentially admitted this wild goose chase was some kind of vanity project and that he didn’t really care that he was ruining innocent people’s lives had turned him inside out emotionally. Usually it was easy. Someone in the game owed money and knew the rules and consequences. Or someone who knew the game had broken the rules. Those were easy jobs. There was no malice and usually the recipients understood the deal. This was different though. These two poor little fuckers didn’t have a clue what George was planning or what he was capable of, and to top it off they hadn’t actually done anything wrong. It was just wrong all over. Rotten from the middle, and he didn’t fancy it anymore.
He’d been mulling these thoughts over in his head as he drove back to the port. His position had moved from grudging respect and slight fear of George to utter loathing. Each time they had approached red lights or a bridge or any other potential accident spot Gary Sparks had considered crashing the car. He imagined a head-on collision that would kill them both instantly. Would it be worth it? He couldn’t believe the answer that kept popping into his head. It was yes, it would be potentially be worth it to rid the planet of this horrible psycho cunt of a man next to him. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, at least not yet.
His mind wandered and as George dozed next to him they drew ever nearer to the Hoek Van Holland. Another crossroads appeared in the distance and Gary Sparks’ hand drifted towards George’s seat belt. If he released his seat belt and then crashed he might have a chance of killing George and surviving himself. The tension in his mind grew as the crossroads approached and at the last moment he again sighed and put both hands back on the steering wheel as George’s eyes popped open.
‘All OK, Gary?’ George asked.
‘Yes, George, only another thirty kilometers.’
3.4 Good Work
Tom and Lassie had seen George and Gary coming. Neither of them knew what to say so they both decided to say nothing.
The shell suit nodded at the boys but didn’t speak.
George said ‘Afternoon scumbags.’ He smiled. ‘My name is George, and this gentleman to my left is called Gary.’
Tom spoke for them both. ‘I’m Tom and that’s Lassie.’
‘I fucking know your name, shithead. Lassie? Like the fucking dog. Well pleased to meet you again, Lassie, how’s your nose? George was enjoying himself.
Lassie nodded, it was still sore as fuck.
‘Well, boys, I hope you left your lady friends in good health.’
Lassie and Tom remained silent and rooted to their chairs.
‘Now, the last time I saw you two chaps poor young Raymond had managed to get himself stuck between two cars, the daft cunt. He’s still in Colchester General at the moment. He’ll probably lose one, maybe both of his legs.’
George looked at the boys; they were shitting themselves and looked on the verge of tears. He was fucking loving every minute of it. Get them desperate, struggling to breathe. Like his sister’s goldfish. When he was a kid he’d pulled it out of the tank and watched as it gasped for air.
‘You see, little boys, that’s what happens to dirty thieves where we come from isn’t it, Gary? Nasty things happen to them. Almost like it’s fucking karma. Do you understand what karma is, little boys?
Tom and Lassie nodded.
Gary couldn’t help but wonder whether it was karma that had killed the Stones brothers and Paddy Wherry or George’s ego? He kept his mouth locked though.
‘So, as I recall, after our brief phone conversation. You owed me 6K and were given a strict timeframe for payment. You then decided to piss off to Holland on a jolly, which landed me with a predicament, as I was worried about my 6K. I had to follow you little twats to keep an eye on you. Unfortunately, this means I’ve incurred extra costs that I have now decided to transfer to your ongoing debt, which as it stands, due to the rather nice hotel we stayed in over in Amsterdam, stands at around 8K.’
George sat back in his chair and smiled smugly to himself. He then leant in to the boys and whispered,
‘How would you like to pay?’
Lassie and Gary sat in silence. It was Tom who spoke, clearing his throat, but unable to stop his voice from shaking and involuntarily notching up in pitch. ‘OK, just to be clear. First, I didn’t take any of your money. Not one English pound.’
George sat listening to the little upstart. He wanted to glass him right there and then but also had a grudging respect for his bravery in standing up to him. Especially when he placed the plastic bag on the table.
‘In that bag, is £2,800 in Dutch guilders. In Harwich I have another 3K. In terms of your incurred costs I’m prepared to go 50/50 with you. Seeing that I didn’t know it was on my bill and if I did you’d have been staying in the YMCA… I’d need some time to raise the other grand too, and then it’s done. No more me and you.’
Tom was shaking inside and the only way he knew to calm himself was to make light of the situation. He crossed his fingers at his attempt at humour and hoped it wasn’t badly received.
Lassie could hardly breathe. He knew Tom didn’t have 3K. Gary couldn’t help but be almost impressed by the lad in front of him. His courage was probably largely due to the fact he didn’t know George Meachen, if he did he would have probably jumped overboard at the first sight of him, but fucking good on him Gary thought.
The silence was tangible as all at the table sat and watched George pondering his next move. It would be an important one. In the back of his mind he already knew that Tom probably hadn’t taken the money but he had got involved with Paddy and Razor, which was a mistake and due to all this mess three of his people were dead and this little toe rag and his dog were very much alive. The money was immaterial really. They had recovered the bulk and this youth was now offering him the missing 6K in less than six hours when the boat docked. It was really a win/win in that sense. He still felt he wasn’t getting full retribution though and he considered his earlier discussions with Gary.
Lassie sat intrigued as he watched Tom actually having a discussion with this maniac. He felt so sorry for him. He hadn’t done anything apart from have a few beers with those boys and look where it had ended up.
Gary fully expected George to strangle Tom at any moment. He watched as George began to speak again.
‘A debt is a debt and yours is eight thousand, sonny.’
‘I haven’t got 8K.’
‘I know, that’s where I come in again.’
Tom had expected this and had
to concentrate hard on not throwing up as George began to explain what was going to happen.
‘Your shortfall will be made good by doing two little jobs for us. You don’t need to know the details but you’ll either be importing something or exporting something. Each time you will reduce your debt by a grand. Everybody’s happy.’
Tom stared into empty space and knew he was fucked. This was an impossible task. He wouldn’t even know what he was carrying or doing, it could be fucking anything! At least Lassie seemed to have gotten away lightly, that was some small consolation.
‘Is there any alternative?’
George smiled; he knew he had him by the balls. ‘Not unless you can give me the 8K with an hour of getting off this boat.’
Tom shook his head. ‘No. I can’t.’ There was absolutely no one he could ask, he felt crushed, but then realised he wasn’t dead, yet…
‘OK lads. I’m going to retire to my cabin, you enjoy your uncomfortable seating arrangements and we’ll meet dockside. We’ll pick up you outside the main entrance when we come off with our car. Again lads, don’t do anything silly, we know where your girlfriends are and it’s a cheap flight to Amsterdam. Come on, Gary. Let’s go.’
George picked up the plastic bag of cash, winked at Tom and said, ‘Good work.’
Gary followed George back towards the accommodation decks. He wanted to strangle the evil cunt right there and then.
3.5 She Was Rock Solid
‘Well that’s me fucked, Lass. Might as well have a few beers.’
‘We’re still here, mate.’
‘For the moment,’ Tom replied.
‘And what the fuck is he going to have me doing to pay off the rest. I imagine there will be interest on what I owe until I do the jobs, whatever they are. I’ll owe this psycho cunt forever. Never trust a bin dipping Scouser, Lass, they’ll meet your friends and burgle their houses the week after!’
‘Kill him?’ Lassie looked serious. ‘I’ll get some drinks.’
He returned with two pints and began to quickly devour one himself.
‘Looks like we’re not going back to Amsterdam in the very near future, eh?’
Relax, Lass, we’ve only just left. I want to know what he wants me to do.’
‘Obvious: drug runs.’
‘Not the end of the world then.’
Tom shrugged his shoulders and slouched back into his seat. This would be an awful journey and he didn’t feel like drinking either. He was already numb from the ankles up.
The boat was unusually empty and the main bar was quiet. They both tried to get some sleep on the way back but the seats didn’t help and neither of them managed more than fifteen to twenty minutes of unbroken sleep.
Soon the Essex coast came into view. Car and freight passengers were asked to return to their vehicles and foot passengers were loudly told that they could make their way to the exits. The boys remained in their seats. It was not worth queuing. They were in no hurry. They sat and watched as the huge ferry came alongside the quay and began docking manoeuvres. The footbridge opened, they grabbed their stuff and made their way off the boat onto dry land. Neither of them felt ecstatic to be back.
‘I feel like I could sleep for a week, Lass.”
‘You reckon? without nightmares?’
Tom nodded at the passport control officer and offered his I.D. Oddly, the guy glanced up at him and then quickly down again and handed over his passport with a curt ‘Welcome back to England and have a pleasant onward journey’, which Tom thought odd as he was sure he recognised him as the brother of someone he played football with. He waited for Lassie and they went through the ‘Nothing to declare’ area of the customs hall without a hitch. An overzealous customs officer was busy destroying a man’s perfectly packed bags. The owner of the bags was dressed in an African robe and sported a matching hat, all very colourful. Tom nodded to Lassie and back to the gentleman.
‘Racists Lass, all bloody racists.’
The pair snaked their way through the walkways and presently found themselves standing back in the main area for departures and arrivals. They slowly moved towards the exit, Lassie could feel Tom’s reluctance about going outside.
‘Don’t feel like pressing the green button for go again then, mate?’
‘I’m spent, Lass. Last week started in fucking court and now I feel like I’ve been given a life sentence. All I did was talk to those fuckers! I’d decided to sort my life out, and look how that’s going! I’m completely fucking screwed.’
Tom stood with his bag at his feet, his hands on the top of his head. He looked towards the exit and considered what was beyond. He wondered if he could kill somebody. Of course he couldn’t and did anybody get away with murder nowadays, especially with programs like ‘Crimewatch’ on TV? Nothing seemed to get past Nick Ross and Sue Cook! He’d have no hope. He laughed at himself for even considering the option.
Lassie watched as he saw Tom start laughing, his hands on his head. Was he cracking up he thought? He wouldn’t blame him. He didn’t know what to say, or do that wouldn’t potentially upset Tom more. The reality of the situation was that Tom, his best mate, was in a horrible mess and he didn’t know what the fuck to suggest.
‘Listen, lad. We’ll go down and wait for them. We’ll go and sort out the cash you can cobble together and give it to them. At least then hopefully they’ll fuck off back up north for a bit and give you, well us some time to have a think and hatch a plan, eh?’
‘Yes, Lass, a bit of space, I might even be able to raise a bit of cash and try to pay him off before he asks me to do anything for him.’
Lassie didn’t say so, but he thought that was as a long shot. Those cunts had their claws into Tom and he honestly couldn’t see them releasing him soon unless something dramatic happened. ‘Come on Lad, let’s go. We can’t stand here all day.’
Tom picked up his bag and walked out of the station, he took a large breath of fresh air and began the descent to the car park. They reached the bottom of the stairs and a small walkway deposited them at the front of the station. Harwich Parkeston Quay, as it proudly announced itself on the signs. Tom put his bag down and looked around for the white Astra. Lassie stood beside him and did the same. It was just before nine, a warm summer evening and still light. The ferry stood proudly behind them, it’s bow doors open. Both boys sat down on their bags and watched the boat slowly empty its belly onto the dock in front of them. They recognised a few locals as they poured themselves, post hen night into a waiting taxi. The cab lurched into life and crept down the road into the town.
They didn’t have to wait long for a white car to slowly pull into the car park and methodically snake its way around the stationary cars and pull up alongside them. The car, however, although a white Vauxhall Astra, didn’t carry Tom’s nemesis, inside were two policemen. The window came down and the passenger spoke to the boys. ‘Evening, lads, waiting for somebody?’
Both shook their heads and said, ‘Na, no one.’
The two men in the car looked quizzically at each other as if they were a comedy double act.
Tom looked at Lassie and offered a single Roger Moore. The car hadn’t moved and the two occupants seemed to be having some kind of extra sensory conversation. Lassie looked back at Tom and returned the SRM. He looked back at the car and beyond into the car park. He couldn’t handle the stand-off much longer.
Tom realised that he actually quite fancied asking them for a lift, or if they would lock him up for a year or two. He watched, surprised, as they both men got out of the car. The driver came around the side of the vehicle and stood with his colleague against the passenger side of the car.
‘Where have you two chaps been then?’ Asked one of the policemen.
‘Amsterdam,’ Lassie replied. ‘You should go, it’s fun.’
‘Could I see some I.D. please?’
Tom stood up, wondering what the fuck all this was about. All he needed was for the Scousers to see them having a chat with the Old Bill
. That truly would be the last nail in his coffin!
‘Why are you giving us grief, fellas? We’ve just been through customs and you’re welcome to have another look in our bags, even though I’m not sure if you’re allowed to. We’re just waiting for a lift to go home and get our shit sorted.’
The second, policeman now turned his attentions to Tom.
‘And what’s your name, my friend?’
‘Tom Adams. What the fuck is going on here?’
‘Tom Adams, I am arresting you on suspicion of failing to stop at a road traffic accident, you do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be taken down and could be used in evidence against you. Do you understand?’
‘What the fuck…?’
As Tom tried to work out what was going on he heard a different charge being read to Lassie, perverting the course of justice! They were both put in handcuffs and placed in the back of the police car, the doors shut on them and the engine started. Tom was panicking as he craned his neck to see if any white cars were in the car park as they drove out and towards the town. He strained across at Lassie, who was equally surprised at the goings on. Both had realized it was the accident, Razor… something had happened and it had been traced back to Harwich.
Lassie looked across at Tom, his eyebrows fixed in a double Roger Moore position. ‘Razor?’ he whispered.
Tom nodded. They had driven off and left the poor cunt at the mercy of George and the others, but how the fuck had they traced the incident to them? It didn’t make any sense. How did they know they were in Holland even? And if they had been nicked, what had happened to George and the shell suit? It dawned on Tom that this could be extremely bad.
The driver of the police car couldn’t help himself and looked into the rear view mirror before curling his lips and smirking, ‘You boys seem to have gotten your young selves in a right fucking pickle, haven’t you?
Prepare yourselves for a bit of a stay boys, this could take a while.’ Again, sarcastic laughter emanated from the front of the car.
The Comedown Page 24