The Front

by Mandasue Heller

  ‘Them schoolgirls are a right load of ravers,’ he said. ‘Tits out here—’ he held his hands out in front of him ‘—all firm and ripe for the squeeze! Phwoar! What I wouldn’t give to—’

  ‘Jeezus wept!’ Sam pulled the wrap of coke out and threw it at Lee to shut him up. ‘They’re too young, man – no matter how big their boobs are.’

  ‘Tosh bollocks!’ Lee sneered. ‘They’re never too young!’

  Cracking his knuckles sharply, Ged said, ‘You’re a sick man, Lee.’

  ‘Get out of it!’ Lee snorted. ‘I wasn’t chasing them, they was chasing me. They’re a right load of nymphos! I could have copped with loads of ’em if that teacher hadn’t seen ’em flocking round me. They were gagging for it!’

  ‘They were checking the wheels, not you, you tosser,’ said Mal, coming back with a pack of beers and throwing one can to each of them. ‘Why would they want a sad old fart like you with all them young lads about?’

  ‘Me big dick!’ said Lee, quite seriously. ‘No schoolboy’s gonna satisfy them nubey babes like me.’

  Mal shook his head in despair. ‘Drink your ale and cool yourself down, man.’

  Lee ripped the tab back and slurped at the froth bubbling over the edge of the can. Licking his lips, he turned to Ged with a glint in his eye.

  ‘So how’s your little ’un these days, Ged? I haven’t seen her for years, man. How old is she now? Twelve? Thirteen? Must be getting big, eh?’

  ‘Belt up, Lee,’ Sam warned, flicking a nervous glance at Ged. The last man to disrespect his daughter had been confined to bed with a drip-feed for a month. Lee was definitely stepping into dangerous territory.

  Ged didn’t move. Holding his hands to his mouth, one huge mitt cupping a jaw-breaking fist, obscuring all of his face except his eyes, he pinned Lee with a glare. His voice, when it came, was low and dark. ‘She’s fifteen, Lee. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never mention her again.’

  ‘I was only asking!’ Lee spluttered. ‘Jeez! What’s it coming to if I can’t ask a mate about his family?’ Turning to Mal, he held his hands up innocently. ‘Did I say anything wrong? Did I?’

  ‘Pack it in,’ Mal said, hoping to avert the looming disaster. Everyone knew how Ged felt about his kids. ‘We’re not here to talk about girls. We’ve got business to sort out.’

  ‘Yeah, I know . . . I was only saying—’

  ‘Well, don’t! You can see you’re pissing Ged off, so leave it, yeah?’

  ‘What time is it?’ Sam asked, anxious to get this over and done so he could get home before Wendy got back from her night out with her mates – and, he hoped, be in bed asleep, avoiding the dreaded nightly tussle. This last month she’d been like a raving schizophrenic. Bitch-queen one minute – sex-mad crazy woman the next. If she wasn’t screaming at him for something he’d done wrong, she was screaming for a shag, and he was worn out trying to keep up with her.

  ‘It’s only half-eight,’ said Mal. ‘We’ve got loads of time yet. Got any new films, Lee?’

  Sam groaned. ‘Aw, not a bluey. That’s the last thing I need!’

  Ignoring him, Lee jumped up with a grin. ‘Sure have!’ he said, pulling three videos from a heap of rubbish beside the couch. ‘New Danish imports, these,’ he bragged. ‘Picked ’em up down Tib Street last week, and they are capital-D Diiirty! Take your pick.’

  ‘Any,’ Mal said. ‘But I’m warning you now, man – touch your dick and I’ll kick your bleeding head in!’

  ‘What about the job?’ Ged reminded them. ‘Shouldn’t we be sorting that out first?’

  ‘Shit, yeah.’ Lee slapped a palm to his forehead. ‘I forgot about that.’

  Jumping to his feet again, he ran across to his jacket and pulled out the plan he’d spent the whole of the previous night drawing. Smoothing it out, he put it on the table and turned it towards them, then perched himself on the edge of the couch to explain it.

  ‘Right,’ he began, rubbing his hands together importantly. ‘This is the plan of the shop. These—’ he pointed out the relevant bits ‘—are the counter, aisles, fridges, and what-not. And these are the doors front and back. These—’ three little stick-men ‘—are the goons. And the “X” is himself counting up.

  ‘Now the goons go first,’ he went on with authority. ‘And that’s never later than ten past twelve. They come out the front, go round the side into the yard, into the van and off. Pasha stays behind and bags up, then he comes out the back way at half past. And that,’ he beamed around at his friends, ‘is where we come in. Good, innit?’

  Mal picked up the sketch for a closer look. ‘You get a wanking chimp to draw this, or what?’ he asked with a derisive snort.

  ‘Piss off!’ Lee snatched his masterpiece back. ‘Look, never mind that. The point is the place is way overdue for a seeing-to. They’re making too much dosh for my liking, an’—’

  ‘And most of it’s mine,’ Mal cut in. ‘Suzie spends a bleedin’ fortune in there!’

  ‘Exactly!’ Lee slapped an emphatic hand down on his knee. ‘It’s our dosh, anyway, so it’s only right we take it back, innit?’

  ‘That’s not exactly logical,’ Ged pointed out. ‘You’ve had stuff for your money, so technically it’s his.’

  ‘Fuck me, man,’ Mal laughed. ‘Anyone’d think you’d never blagged nothing! Correct me if I’m wrong, but did you or did you not nearly blind that poor fucker just ’cos he wouldn’t—’

  ‘Yeah, well, anyway,’ Lee cut in quickly before Mal pissed Ged off even more than he already seemed to be – though why he should be pissed off, Lee had no idea! Still, the last thing they needed was to lose the only real muscle in the team. ‘Let’s get this finished, yeah?’ He waited until he had their attention before continuing.

  ‘Right, then. I’ve been keeping watch for the past few weeks, and Pasha’s routine is regular as clockwork. Now, the plan is to get round the back after the goons leave, and hide in the bushes till he’s locked up. Then we jump him and mash him up, and all that lovely dosh will be ours!’

  ‘And it’s dead cert the goons leave by ten past?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Dead cert,’ Lee assured him. ‘Like I said, I’ve been watching for weeks, an’ that’s how they do it every time. It’s safe, man.’

  ‘What if someone sees us?’ said Mal. This was Lee talking, after all – Mr Botch-it-and-scarper. ‘I don’t fancy a run-in with the Five-O, know what I mean?’

  ‘Nah, man, it can’t go wrong,’ Lee insisted, adding with a confident grin, ‘I’ll let you peel me nuts and dip ’em in acid if it does!’

  ‘And I’ll do it with pleasure, mate,’ Mal half-joked. ‘Right, then.’ He turned to the others, rubbing his hands together. ‘If we’re all finished, I say we have a line to seal the deal.’

  Reaching for the last of Lee’s stash, he tipped it onto the mirror, telling Lee: ‘Get a flick on, mate. A good stiffy should get us in the right mood to kick arse!’

  Suzie woke with a start, unsure whether the pounding was coming from inside her head or from someone hammering on the door. It was definitely the door. Peering at her watch through sleep-blurred eyes, she struggled to focus on the wavy hands. Nine o’clock. Who the hell could it be?

  Struggling upright, she dragged herself from the couch and limped to the front door. The bath had relaxed her, but falling asleep on the couch straight after hadn’t done her any favours. She was aching all over, and didn’t fancy talking to anyone. Peeping through the spyhole, her heart sank when she saw Wendy stamping her feet in the passageway, her fur coat pulled tight around her swollen belly. She slowly backed away from the door, hoping to creep back to the couch, but it was too late – Wendy’s eagle eyes had detected the change in light behind the spyhole. She banged on the door again, shouting: ‘Suzie, it’s me. Hurry up, it’s bloody freezing out here.’

  Suzie knew there was no escape – and no excuse for not letting her in. A visit from Wendy was deemed an honour – like a royal visit. If she didn’t let her
in now, she’d really take the huff. Opening the door reluctantly, she forced a smile – instantly regretting it as the swollen lip tore itself apart and started to bleed again.

  Wendy was shocked by the sight of her. ‘Good God, girl!’ she gasped, barrelling into the hall and pushing Suzie backwards into the light. She looked at her battered face with concern. ‘What the hell happened to you?’ she demanded. ‘You been in a car crash, or what?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Suzie insisted, twisting away from Wendy’s hands and sloping back to the couch with Wendy hot on her heels.

  ‘Doesn’t look like nothing to me,’ Wendy said, sitting down beside her. ‘Here, let me have a proper look.’ Gently tilting Suzie’s face up to the light, she frowned, asking quietly, ‘What happened, Suzie? And no bullshit, all right?’

  Suzie hadn’t meant to tell her, but Wendy was her usual persistent self, and she didn’t let up until the whole story tumbled out.

  ‘Well! I don’t know what to say,’ Wendy said when she’d finished. ‘Oh, love . . . Come here.’ Pulling Suzie to her like a child, she rocked her gently. ‘How long has this been going on, then?’

  ‘He’s not normally this bad,’ Suzie gulped back her tears, soothed by the rocking. ‘And it’s my own fault. I wind him up. I don’t know why I do it, but I can’t seem to stop myself.’

  Wendy nodded wisely, listening to Suzie in sympathetic silence as she sifted through the information. She prided herself on seeing both sides to a story – unless it was hers and Sam’s story, in which case there was only one side: hers. Still, despite how she felt about men hitting women, she knew it couldn’t all be Mal’s fault. He was always so nice to her. Anyway, Lee had been here – it was probably his fault!

  ‘I know it must be hard,’ she said, choosing her words carefully, ‘but only you can know if you’re pushing him too far. Can’t you just learn to shut up before it gets to this? I’m sure he doesn’t mean to do it. He’s a pretty good guy, really.’

  ‘I know . . . I know,’ Suzie wiped her nose on her sleeve. ‘You’re right. He deserves better than me.’

  Much as Wendy liked Suzie, she had to agree. The kid was way out of her league. What Mal needed was a strong woman – a real woman, like herself. Someone who’d give as good as she got. That’d sort him out. It had certainly sorted Sam out. He wouldn’t dare pull a stunt like this.

  ‘You know what,’ she said with a wicked smile. ‘If Sam ever tried any of this malarkey on me, I’d rip his balls off and force-feed them to him. I would – and, what’s more, he knows it! That’s how you’ve got to keep them, you know? On their knees – under your stiletto!’ She laughed suddenly. ‘I think I should be one of them wotsit women . . . Dominatrix! That’s it!’

  Suzie giggled at this, and bled some more. ‘You wouldn’t!’

  Pulling a tissue from her pocket, Wendy gently dabbed at Suzie’s lip. ‘Too right I bloody would! And I’d be good at it an’ all. Ooh, yeah! I could just fancy getting rigged up in rubber. That’d be a kick. A rubber basque, with cut-out titty bits. And a whip! God, that’d be fun. I’d skelp every one of the sad gits that walked through the door, whip the skin straight off of his sorry arse and get paid for doing it! And I’d laugh. My God, I’d laugh! Serve ’em right, the sorry bunch of bastards!’

  Pausing, Wendy patted her stomach and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. ‘I might just give it a go when I drop this little load. Get myself down to the gym to tone up first, then a quick trip to one of those naughty-knickers parties to sort out some horny gear, and Bob’s-yer-dominated-uncle! Tell you what, Sooze.’ She nudged her. ‘You can come and work with me if you want. I reckon we’d make a good team.’

  Suzie blushed. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I’d be useless.’

  Wendy drew her head back and snorted. ‘Don’t underestimate yourself, girl!’

  Struggling to her feet, she rubbed at her back, then headed for the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, ‘Why don’t I make us a brew, eh? Coffee all right?’

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’ Suzie grinned as she wrapped the dressing gown tighter around herself. Wendy could be really funny sometimes. She could also be a terrifying bitch, but like this she was great.

  Popping her head around the door a second later, Wendy grinned mischievously. ‘Tell you what. How’s about we sack the coffee and nip out for a bottle of wine. We can watch a vid, get pissed . . . and have a little smoke!’ She pulled the piece of draw she’d ‘confiscated’ from Sam out of her pocket and waved it triumphantly. ‘Got any skins?’

  ‘On the shelf.’ Suzie pointed. ‘Here, you were joking, weren’t you? About doing the . . . you know?’

  ‘No, I bloody wasn’t!’ Wendy exclaimed loudly as she waddled across to get the Rizla papers. ‘And you don’t need to look so shocked, Suzie. Women are allowed to like sex, you know. I might as well get paid for it, is all I’m saying. Here, start this off while I go to the loo.’ She threw the papers to Suzie and made her way out, moaning, ‘God, I can’t wait to drop this. It makes me leak like a bleeding tap!’

  Mal and Lee were high as kites by the time they set off. It was only eleven-thirty, but Lee insisted they needed the extra time to suss everything out. Reaching Hulme ten minutes later, Lee slowed down and turned onto City Road.

  Turf of the posse that was out for Sam’s blood, City Road was the only main road running through the estate. There were many minor roads leading off it, but they just provided access to the various mazes that made up the different parts of the estate, and they all led back to City Road. The one they wanted was the last on the right. Cornbrook Road – a short, narrow road with just a single dim street light at its corner.

  On their right as they turned onto Cornbrook Road were the rear yards of the shops – each separated from its neighbour by a low wall, with just enough room for a couple of vehicles. On the left, stretching the entire length of the shops, was St Ignatius’s Residential Home for the Elderly. And straight ahead, at the end, sat a hulking twenty-storey high-rise, the car park of which overlooked both the Home and the shops, as well as providing a clear view of the City Road entrance. It was here that Lee had spent the past four Sunday nights – just out of sight of the flats’ security camera as it slowly scanned the area.

  Slowly making his way into the car park, he reversed into the familiar shadows and cut the engine. Killing the lights, he peered out through the windows for any signs of movement in the surrounding darkness. As he’d expected, there were none. The area was deserted – anyone going out was already long gone, and would probably not be back until much later. The Home was also in complete darkness, each of its residents soundly asleep by now, and probably too deaf or short-sighted to notice any irregularity even if they had been awake.

  Now Lee and his mates just had to get on with the wait as best they could.

  It was exactly twelve-fifteen when the three figures emerged from the shadows at the side of the supermarket. Pasha’s nephews – or ‘The Goons’, as Lee called them. They were illuminated for a split second by the street lamp before disappearing around the gate into the rear yard.

  ‘And they’re off,’ hissed Lee excitedly. Slouching down in his seat, he pulled his mask over his head.

  A jolt of electricity charged the air in the car. The windows fogged over as the men’s body heat surged, and adrenalin flooded their veins.

  Mal rubbed a small hole in the condensation to watch the van drive away. ‘Let’s go!’ he yelled as soon as it disappeared around the corner. Grinning, he pulled his mask on and reached for the door handle.

  Lee grabbed his arm and held him back. ‘Hang about, speedy bollocks! We’ve got to wait while he bags up.’

  Mal slumped back, a petulant pout pushing up through his mouth-hole. ‘So what do we do now? Sit here with our masks on like a load of bleeding terrorists?’

  ‘We’ve just gotta time it right,’ Lee explained. ‘If we go too soon he’ll see us on the cameras. Too late, and he’ll be off in a flash.’

 
‘Don’t you think we’d better leave the masks off till we get over there?’ Ged suggested quietly. ‘We don’t want to look too suss, do we?’

  ‘Good thinking, Batman,’ Mal agreed. Ripping his mask off, he angled the mirror to smooth his hair.

  ‘You vain shite!’ Lee laughed. ‘All right, leave ’em off, but keep your heads down, yeah?’

  Sam felt a trickle of sweat run down his back as he pulled his mask off. He felt safer covered up, especially knowing that one of the posse’s girlfriends lived in the flats behind them. Even behind the car’s blacked-out windows he’d felt exposed, visible from every angle. Stepping out unmasked, he really would be. But he had to agree that it wouldn’t be too smart to walk the fifty or so exposed yards in a mask.

  Another ten minutes passed before Lee turned and gave them the nod. Climbing out of the car as quietly as possible, they darted across the road, keeping tight to the shadows until they reached the supermarket wall. Crouching low in the bushes beside it, they had a further agonizing five-minute wait before they heard the back door creak open and footsteps shuffle out onto the concrete step.

  Lee let out a nervous giggle, earning himself a fierce jab in the ribs from Mal who was hyped beyond belief – eaten up with the thrill of the hunt. A commando waiting to strike the enemy.

  Squatting beside Mal, Ged could smell the urge to wreak havoc pouring from the man’s glands. It didn’t bode well, and again he silently cursed himself. If he had any sense at all he’d be a thousand miles away from this raving coke-head right now.

  But it was too late to back out now.

  Like a prison door slamming home, the shutters came down to the concrete with a loud metallic clang. Clicking the padlock firmly into place, Pasha Singh straightened up slowly. Wincing at the sharp protesting pops of his kneecaps, he arched his stiff back and rubbed a hand around his aching neck. He was getting too old for these late nights. It was time to start delegating responsibilities to his nephews. He’d have to do it sooner or later, or he’d never get back home. And that had been his intention all along. The sole reason he’d spent every waking hour in this stinking country working his fingers to the bone, building his empire. Because when he eventually did go back home, it would be as a success – or not at all.