by Iain Parke
‘With what?’
‘With the Dazza shit.’
‘OK, but fuck it’s some heavy stuff.’
‘What stuff?’
‘I can’t tell anyone. Not even you man.’
*
We had a drink back at the club and Billy did a line. He offered me one and I shook my head, ‘Not now mate, want to keep my head clear.’
‘Well want a wrap to go for later then?’
‘Yeah, that would be good, thanks,’ I said taking the proffered small square of folded paper.
I left the question lingering unasked in the air between us as I tucked the tiny package into the pocket of my cut off until Billy waved his hand and said, ‘Hey no charge mate, on the house.’
I nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Thanks mate, I’ll be getting back now, Shaz’ll have dinner on the go. Fancy some?’
‘Nah, I’m OK, I’m gonna call in on that new bird of mine in town. We’ll probably hit the Chinky.’
‘OK then, look after yourself.’
‘And you.’
*
They were waiting for me as I rode through the village. The car parked down a side road, a dead end that slanted up from down by the river so that they could pull out behind me easily. As I sped past, leaning into the bend by the village green and setting myself up for the acceleration up onto the dark straight out and into the countryside again I clocked the headlights coming on in my mirror, followed a few seconds later by the flash of blues.
Shit.
I screwed the throttle on and tucked forward onto the bars as the bike leapt ahead. They would never catch me on the straight and I could make some space for myself as I thought furiously. I was carrying that wrap of Billy’s.
Well Dazza, there’s clean and then there’s ‘clean’ I thought. But even at just a single wrap, I still couldn’t afford to get caught with it.
On the bike I was confident I could outrun them for a while. They were making speed behind me so it wasn’t a normal plod patrol. I think I would have spotted sarni stripes as I came past the turning so I guessed this was an unmarked box and they tended to be larger, faster, more serious motors. Losing that might be more difficult, but not impossible. I had been riding these roads for years, I knew every bend and every turn, and that, as the wind whistled past my head and my vision focused on the rushing circle of light and surrounding darkness streaming past me like a demented road movie on speed, was standing me in good stead now, even if I wasn’t losing them fast enough behind me in the curves for my liking. Even so, there weren’t that many alternative routes and doubtless they’d be on their squawk boxes already asking for their mates to join the party. I might get away but chances are they would have my number by now, and if they seriously thought I was going to be making a run for it they would quickly be organising back-up to block my available escape routes.
But all I needed was time, a bit of time just out of sight of the pursuing car, time to, sitting up and taking my hand off the throttle for just a moment, reach into the pocket of my cut off and catch the paper wrap between the fingers of my glove. Reaching forwards again to screw it on, the wind ripped the wrap from between my fingers and it disappeared into the blackness, falling behind me at ninety miles an hour as I rocketed through the next series of S bends with the blues now wailing two tones behind me. Until suddenly with a screech of brakes I hauled on the anchors, the back end starting to step out sideways as I scrubbed off the speed, the front wheel chirping and twitching as I jerked the bike off the road and onto a patch of waste ground at a junction. By the time the plod had pulled in beside me I had the engine and lights off and was waiting with the side stand down.
They were plain clothes, not traffic or local patrol. As they got out of the motor, the flashing blues gave an unreal illumination to the scene. This wasn’t just an RTO thing I realised.
‘Evening officer.’
‘Evening Damage,’ was the interesting reply from the guy getting out of the passenger side, so they knew who I was, ‘Going somewhere in a hurry are we?’ The driver was still inside the car, on the mic, reporting the stop I guessed.
Was this just chance I wondered, ‘Just looking for a safe place to pull over officer,’ I shrugged.
‘Now there’s a good citizen,’ he said, as the driver got out to join us.
‘So what can I do for you this evening, officer?’ I asked as Wibble came round the bend on his way home and clocked us, nodding in acknowledgement as I raised a hand in greeting as he slowed down to ride by.
‘Well you can take a bit of a ride with us,’ said the copper as the roar of Wibble’s bike accelerated hard away into the darkness. Well at least the guys’ll know where I’ve gone, I thought.
*
The interrogation room back at the station was a familiar institutional green, with the usual fixed video camera and clock, metal framed chairs and standard metal and Formica table.
The two who had arrested me walked in. The driver was the more junior one. I recognised the older guy. He’d been the one that hassled me all those years before in the back of the Golden Lion although I don’t know if he made the connection. He had a slim brown cardboard folder in his hand. They pulled out the chairs on the other side of the table and sat down in silence.
They wanted to talk to me. That was OK but I didn’t want to talk to them, so I just waited to hear what was coming.
‘So, Tiny was your mate wasn’t he?’ the older guy kicked off. He was obviously the man who was going to be doing the talking. ‘Sorry to hear he’s dead?’
I shrugged, ‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘You guess? I thought he was a mate, no more than a mate, a brother isn’t it?
‘Yeah sure, but hey shit happens and anyway, it’s none of your fucking business.’
‘Oh it isn’t is it? And shit happens doesn’t it? Well let’s just see about that shall we? So,’ he asked conversationally, ‘what do you know about how he died?’
‘Not a lot, I wasn’t around when it happened.’
‘Oh yes that’s right. You were on holiday weren’t you?’
‘Yeah that’s right.’
‘That’s convenient, isn’t it? Having an alibi like that I mean.’
‘Alibi? What the fuck are you talking about?’
‘Tiny’s death.’
‘What about it?’
‘Oh come off it Damage, don’t play games with us. We know all about you and your little crew.’
I smiled to myself. I seriously doubted that. ‘Who the fuck is playing games mate?’
‘OK then, if that’s the way you want to play it.’
Play what? I wondered, but kept my mouth shut.
‘Tiny’s death was no accident.’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘I’ve got his post mortem report here,’ said the sergeant, ‘want to know what it shows?’
I shrugged. The easiest and best thing to do with these bastards I knew was just to say nothing, no comment until your brief arrived. I realised I needed to shut up. Not to rise to their bait. Still I was interested now to hear what they had.
The sergeant was looking at me, a quizzical eyebrow raised. He waited a moment longer.
‘OK then,’ he said acknowledging that no response was coming, ‘so why don’t I tell you anyway, just in case you don’t know it all already?’
He sat back in his chair and extracted some papers and photographs from the file. ‘Well it makes some interesting reading I must say,’ he said, laying the photographs out on the table in front of me as he spoke.
‘And a bit sad really. It’s the bruising you can see that tells the story really isn’t it? Throat, arms, chest,’ he was pointing to the pictures as he laid the eight by tens down on the table in front of me. Then he looked up at me, ‘the pills were forced down him weren’t they? Somebody or bodies held down his arms and someone else knelt on his chest. I guess that’s the one who actually stuffed the whisky bottle in and held it the
re while he choked on it, the one who stuck a clothes peg on his nose, the one who shoved the pills in and then clamped his mouth shut until he swallowed them so he could breathe. What I want to know is was that the same guy who stuck the needle into him to ensure he was finished off?8
He carried on staring into my face, our eyes locked, neither willing to break the stare. ‘No comment I take it?’
I shook my head.
‘Bodies, I guess,’ he continued reflectively. ‘He was a big guy so you’d have needed a couple of guys at least to pin him down I guess, just like before. We’re having more tests done to see what exactly you and your mates shoved into him this time. So it’ll be a while before we can release the body.’
‘What before?’ I asked despite myself.
‘What d’you mean, “what before”?’
‘You said like before, what do you mean by that?’
The sergeant leant back in his chair again with a snort of disgust, ‘Don’t give me that bollocks, you know what I’m talking about. D’you believe this crap?’ he asked his assistant who just carried on staring at me and shook his head in silence. Bloody Trappist monk that one. What did he think I was going to do? Crack under the silent treatment?
Don’t tell us you don’t know,’ the sergeant banged the table returning to his own style, ‘don’t play the innocent. I meant just like last time. Just like with your other mate Gyppo.’
I must admit I was stunned, but I think I kept a blank face as he demanded, ‘It was you lad, wasn’t it?’
Silence.
‘Or someone doing you a favour?’
I looked at him quizzically. ‘A favour?’
‘Yeah, it’d be quite a favour wouldn’t it? Your dealing partner’s been at the powder too much and is becoming a risk and you fancy his bird. Can’t say I blame you like, she’s quite a looker isn’t she? So you had him bumped off didn’t you? Solves both things at once doesn’t it?’
He sat back again folding his arms, ‘And now there’s Tiny isn’t there? Rocking the boat was he? He couldn’t have liked this new little deal you’ve stitched up with Dazza’s mob. Put him out in the cold didn’t it? So he had to go as well didn’t he? Was that it?’
He waited again.
‘Kinda convenient you and he were out of the country when it happened wasn’t it? What kind of a fucking alibi did you think taking a golfing trip would be? Were you taking the piss or what?’
I shook my head. ‘No idea what ya talking about, it’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Oh sure, just deny it,’ he said in a tone of disgust, ‘say nothing like your lot always do. Frankly I don’t give a fuck about you scumbags. If you guys want to top the lot of each other then you just get on with it with my blessing.’
Just then the door opened and Jim our club brief walked in. Jim was a laugh, all big and clubby, pinstripe suit, plum in mouth accent and a bit of an ‘Ah… Ah… my client… Ah…’ stammer. But he knew his stuff and turned out for us every time, like he bloody well ought to the amount of dosh he made off us over the years. Anyway, he had me out of there in no time flat. They didn’t have a thing on me, not even a DD charge as I’d only had the one beer and had passed the breathalyser with ease, they had just wanted to tug me in, shake the tree, see what fell out.
Some hope. I wondered why they had bothered.
‘So what ah… ah… was that… ah… all about then?’ Jim asked as we walked out of the station. So I told him what I’d picked up, they had pulled me in to allege that I’d been involved in murdering Gyppo and Tiny.
‘D… d… did they now? Well, they ca… n’t have had much of a… ah… ah case now can they then? Not with you just walking out the door like this?’
‘No, they can’t.’
‘So, wha… wha… what are you going to do about this?’
I had been thinking about that myself. Particularly since it would have had to have been Dazza that had called Jim out this time of night to get in to see me. ‘Need to let Dazza know what the plod’s up to I guess.’
‘I think tha…, tha… that’s very… wise,’ he concluded.
*
‘Anyway, the plod are saying that Tiny was murdered,’ I told him.
‘So I heard from Jim. Why?’
So I told him what the cops had said about the post mortem results and the cause of death.
‘Did you believe them?’ he asked.
‘They showed me photos,’ I said flatly, thinking of the livid bruises against the flashlit blue skin and darkly faded tattoos in the pictures I’d seen, ‘I’m no expert but unless they were faked or he’s had an accident I don’t know about before he snuffed it, I could see what they meant.’
‘But didn’t you tell them that you were away when it happened?’
‘I didn’t have to. They knew it already. Said it was a convenient alibi and that all it meant was that I’d arranged for someone else to do it while we were away.’
Dazza seemed to consider the implications of this for a moment.
‘OK,’ he said eventually, ‘look, just keep it quiet for the moment will ya? I’ll make enquiries, see what’s going on.’
‘OK, whatever you say, chief,’ I agreed, adding offhand as an aside, ‘Hey, thanks for sorting Billy out by the way, but you’ve sure got him crapping himself!’
‘Why, what’s up?’
‘He’s saying to me that you’ve got him dealing with some very heavy fucking people.’
‘Christ almighty. What the fuck is he saying something like that for?’ Dazza was suddenly very hard and aggressive. ‘I tell you now, that little fucker needs to learn to keep his fucking mouth fucking shut or I’ll fucking shut it for him!’
I was surprised at the vehemence of the response, ‘Hey relax,’ I protested, ‘he didn’t tell me anything.’
‘He told you something, and that’s one thing too many. And you know it, or you ought to.’
‘Hey don’t have a go at me mate. I ain’t said anything to anybody.’
‘Sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. I know what’s what.’
‘OK, but Billy now…’
‘Oh come on, Billy just has a whinge every now and then, particularly when he’s had a line or two and gets a bit antsy.’
‘Yeah, well he’s been doing that a lot lately. That’s always a problem. I’ve seen it before.’
That was the second time I’d had a bad reaction from Dazza when I’d mentioned something that Billy was saying. I’d need to watch that from now on I decided. I didn’t want to get in the middle of something dangerous unnecessarily.
*
Well so much for keeping out of it. I only had fucking Billy round my house the next morning.
‘What the fuck did you say to Dazza? He’s coming on really heavy with me!’ he gabbled, as I opened the door.
Dazza had really put the scare into Billy I thought, as I ushered him into the house and shut the door behind him.
‘I need to talk,’ he said
‘OK, but not in here,’ I said, grabbing him by his cut off and hustling him in front of me and down the hall.’
‘Oh hi Billy…’ said Sharon as I wheeled him through the kitchen before falling silent as she saw the look on my face as I almost pushed him out of the back door and into the garden.
‘You’re close to Dazza but the only one I can trust,’ he said, as I turned on the outside tap. Bugging people remotely outdoors is difficult enough, but the sound of running water would make it nigh on impossible if we kept our voices low.
‘OK then, so what do you need to talk about?’ I asked, looking at him appraisingly. He seemed nervous, on the edge, paranoid even and I wasn’t sure how much it would be him and how much it would be the whizz talking. Perhaps, I wondered, Dazza was right about him?
He had collapsed into a chair, his whole body slumped back as if in utter defeat, ‘What the fuck do I do Damage?’ he asked at last.
‘What about?’
‘About Dazza.’
/>
‘Easy. You keep your mouth shut and you keep being useful.’
‘That’s it?’
‘That’s it!’
‘But I am being useful, that’s what’s worrying me.’
‘Look mate, either you’re going to tell me what’s going on so I can see if I can help or you’re not, in which case you’re just wasting my time and yours.’ I left it hanging for a few seconds to give him time to think.
‘So which is it to be? Time to decide.’
Billy had a hunted look, and then his head fell back with his eyes closed in despair. I had known him now for almost thirty years, since we were kids at school together. He was going to talk.
‘Look mate,’ I said softening my tone to an encouraging one, ‘talk to me. What’s the problem?’
‘Jesus Christ Damage mate, you’ve gotta help me.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s Dazza, he is trying to get me fucking killed.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Dazza… Dazza…’
He stopped for a moment, as though he was having difficulty actually formulating the words. I waited, it was coming, all I had to do was let it, ‘Dazza…’ then it came in a rush, ‘Dazza has had me dealing in Scotland.’
‘What on The Rebels’ turf?’ I couldn’t keep the stunned shock out of my voice. Dealing into The Rebels’ territory, right under their fucking noses was just about the best way I could think of to start an all out fucking war. If the situation was reversed, we wouldn’t rest until we had wiped out their operation on our patch and taken our revenge for the insult. Christ almighty, what the fuck was Dazza up to?
‘No,’ a sound of anguish, ‘you just don’t understand.’
‘Understand what?’ I asked.
‘You just don’t get it do you?’ Billy shot back with a flash of despair driven anger, ‘He’s not had me dealing on their turf. It’s worse than that. He’s only had me dealing with the fucking Rebels themselves!’
I was almost speechless for a second. I actually couldn’t believe what I’d just heard.
‘With the fucking Duckies? Are you out of your fucking mind?
It was as if Billy hadn’t heard my question, he was too far gone in his own catastrophic imaginings of the consequences that could unfold as I tried to digest what he was telling me, the unbelievable news that Dazza was dealing with our sworn enemies. ‘What the fuck are the rest of The Brethren going to do to me if they ever find out?’ Billy wailed.