Heavy Duty People

by Iain Parke

  ‘You ever even think anything like that ever again and I’ll break every fucking bone in your body!’

  ‘Oooh touchy!’

  ‘Leave it Spud, I mean it!’

  ‘C’mon Spud,’ Dazza intervened, ‘stop winding Damage up and go and start getting the shit organised.’

  ‘OK Boss,’ said Spud as we eye fucked each other, ‘just as soon as Damage here lets go.’

  I dropped my hold on him. ‘There you go Spud, run along now.’

  ‘Oi!’ said Dazza, ‘You know the rules. Either take it outside or leave it out and that means both of you. Got it Damage?’

  ‘Yeah I’ve got it.’

  ‘Well then.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, settling back into my seat as Spud, still glaring at me, turned to find Bagpuss and disappear out of the door.

  Dazza pulled up a chair and slid into it opposite me.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Yeah I’m fine.’

  ‘So what was that about? ’Snot like you?’

  ‘Oh nothing. He just gets on my tits that’s all.’

  ‘Who, Spud? I wouldn’t worry about him,’ Dazza said expansively, ‘don’t let him get to you mate. He’s just muscle that’s all. Like I always said, you’re one of the ones with the brains.’

  I smiled.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Dazza continued, ‘he’s got his uses has Spud. But really, you and I both know he couldn’t think his way out of a paper bag.’

  He took a draw on his beer and looked around. ‘Who’s in tonight?’

  ‘Not many. Fat Mick’s on cameras, Andy and Porky are through next door playing pool, apart from them it’s just the guys in here,’ I said nodding across the room where Little Matt and Prof were shooting the breeze with Pete who was on duty behind the bar.

  ‘No one upstairs?

  ‘Not that I know of. Hey Pete,’ I yelled to make myself heard over Lynyrd Skynyrd, ‘anyone upstairs?’

  ‘Nah. No one’s been up since I’ve been here.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘About six or so.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Dazza.

  ‘Why d’you ask?’

  ‘Oh nothing much. It’s just I’m going to need the clubhouse later tonight that’s all.’

  Need it empty was what he meant of course.

  ‘Business?’

  ‘Business,’ he confirmed.

  By half ten or so he’d moved the guys out so it was just him, Spud and Scottie, Fat Mick and me still sitting with Dazza in the bar; Bagpuss and Doggie had disappeared half an hour earlier on foot down the track, I guess they had been sent off down to the mine.

  And then from the hallway I heard Spud telling Fat Mick to get lost.

  ‘But I’m on cameras!’ he protested.

  ‘Not now you’re not. I’m taking over this evening, so take a hike.’

  ‘OK,’ he said, ‘if you’re sure.’

  So then there was one. Me.

  A few minutes later Bagpuss and Doggie were back. A bit out of breath and flustered they held a whispered conversation with Dazza which brought a sharp ‘Shit!’ and ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Problem?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ he said without turning round, ‘nothing to worry about.’

  Dazza thought it over for a moment or two and considered his options. ‘Well it is what it is I guess,’ he said.

  Bagpuss whispered a suggestion in Dazza’s ear, I guess he was suggesting that they get tooled up from some other source but Dazza dismissed it with a crisp, ‘No, we ain’t got the time.’

  ‘And anyway,’ he continued, ‘we shouldn’t need it. No we’ll go as we are. We’ll just need to be extra careful that’s all.’

  ‘Hey Damage, he said turning to me, ‘slight change of plan. I might need you to give a hand with security tonight. Is that OK?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said nonchalantly, ‘whatever you need mate. You know that.’

  ‘Thanks Damage, that’s great.’

  And with that the stage was set.

  We had planned to hit them either at the clubhouse or as they went for the drop. Popeye and his lads had approached over the fields, Gut and his guys up the track from the road. It was now just a case of when and how.

  Dazza didn’t fill me in on what he had going on. I wouldn’t have expected him to, the less I knew the better for both of us.

  ‘So what d’you want me to do?’

  ‘I need you to team up with Spud.’

  ‘Spud?’

  ‘Yes. He’s on security. Can you do that?’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘This is business, Damage. I need you to leave your beefs with him out of this. D’you understand me?’

  ‘Yeah I get it. You don’t have to worry about me.’

  ‘Good man, Damage. I knew I could rely on you.’

  So I went and sat in the hallway where Spud and I watched the cameras in uncompanionable silence. And then we waited. Eleven came and went.

  At about half past Dazza came through and quietly announced, ‘Right then lads, it’s time we got organised.’

  ‘D’you want us to check outside?’ I asked, seeing a chance.

  ‘Wouldn’t hurt I suppose,’ he said, ‘yeah why not?’

  ‘Come on then, Spud,’ I said standing up and grinning at the fact that a trip out into the cold night air obviously wasn’t something that Spud fancied, but at the same time wasn’t something that he could now refuse, ‘grab us a couple of torches.’

  Outside with Spud I walked past my bike. As we did so I slipped my hand into the unlocked saddle bag thrown over the rear fender on the side away from the clubhouse entrance, my fingers feeling under the jacket dumped in there for the notched touch of the pistol’s grip. Unseen in the darkness I pulled out the long shape of the silenced weapon and, my arm hanging loosely by my side, I walked on after Spud around the end of the buildings and out of sight of the main CCTV cameras covering the yard and the door. There was one up on the end of the lower barn that faced down the track towards the road but being high it had quite a large blind spot just in the shadow of the building.

  Spud had stopped to look down the track and was just starting to moan about how there was no one there and it was freezing and why didn’t we get back inside before he froze his nuts off when I stuck the end of the silencer to the back of his head and cocked the gun. That froze the little wanker in his tracks alright.

  ‘Don’t move a muscle you fucker or I swear to you I’ll plug you right now,’ I whispered into his ear as with my free hand I flashed the torch once, ‘get on the ground face down and put your arms behind you.’

  Seconds later Popeye appeared out of the darkness.

  ‘We’re on security,’ I hissed as Popeye whipped out a roll of gaffa tape and kneeling down across the small of Spud’s back swiftly gagged him before beginning to secure his arms. ‘Take him down. I’ll tell them he’s on patrol.’

  Popeye was working quickly. Now he was binding Spud’s ankles with tape as well.

  ‘I’ll get back inside.’

  ‘OK, go!’

  Take it outside Dazza had said. Well it had been my pleasure I thought, as I turned away.

  Stepping back into the light of the courtyard there was one more thing I needed to do before I headed inside, so I opened the door to the outhouse.

  ‘Where’s Spud?’ Dazza asked, as I shut the door behind me.

  ‘He’s taking a walk around to check the place out. He’ll be back in a few minutes.’

  ‘Bugger. I want to get started upstairs.’

  ‘Well why don’t you get on if you want to?’ I said, standing by the desk with the monitors, the long cold shape of the gun with its silencer pressing into the small of my back where I had stuffed it into the waistband of my jeans. ‘I can watch the cameras till he gets back.’

  ‘Yeah, OK then. We’ll do that.’

  Dazza and his crew assembled upstairs. As soon as I head the last clump of boots heading do
wn the landing I turned out the hallway light, and slipping open the front door’s latch, I flashed my torch twice in quick succession towards the corner of the barn where I knew Popeye would be waiting.

  As an ex-marine, Popeye had naturally tended to attract other ex-service guys into his cohort. So he and some of his guys formed the assault and clean-up team. At my signal he came scurrying across the yard carrying a sledgehammer, followed by three figures. They were all dressed in dark coloured boiler suits, boots and black balaclavas, their hands and exposed bits of faces blackened with cammo paint. Popeye and the first two of them had pistols drawn as being better for close up work, the backup guy had an AK47 for firepower if needed. Gut and a couple of his lads meanwhile were acting as security, parked at the foot of the drive to make sure no one got in or out, and were then going to be transport for the drop.

  I pulled the pistol from under the back of my cut off and slipped off the safety catch. Leading the way, silently we crept up the stairs and along the darkened landing towards the meeting room door.

  There was no one on guard outside, they were all in the room.

  I stopped and listened for a moment at the lit crack around the door. There was no sound of conversation, just odd words every now and then in query or acknowledgement. Dazza would be using the whiteboard again I reckoned, to make sure nothing could be overheard. Even in here he was being cautious about the risk of bugs.

  That might be useful for us though, I thought. He would be going through the final drop plan again on the board so there was a chance that there might be some info on it which would be of use to us as well. Behind me Popeye and his team stood in silence in the darkness of the corridor. Stepping back from the door and to the left to make a space I waved them forwards with the end of my gun, and pointed down to where there was a loose floorboard that would creak if stood on. Carefully and deliberately, Popeye stepped over it to stand in front of me while the two other guys with pistols formed up on the right. The AK47 lurked in the gloom of the corridor.

  We tensed. We all knew this was it. The guys were watching me.

  Three, I mouthed silently.

  Two. Popeye raised the sledge hammer.

  One.

  With an explosion of noise Popeye let out a fearsome yell and swung the sledgehammer crashing round into the door with all his whipcord force, bursting the lock from its jamb. As he did do the two guys to the right shoulder charged the swinging door, bashing it inwards and almost falling into the room to the left and right on the other side, guns out, while behind them Popeye flung the hammer to one side and we charged in after them with the AK47 guy bringing up the rear.

  Inside the room Doggie, Bagpuss and Scottie sat, chairs drawn up in a loose semicircle facing Dazza who was stood, dry-wipe pen in hand to the left of the whiteboard. At the crash of the door bursting open I had a momentary impression of their four faces turning towards us, mouths open in complete astonishment. I stood still while Popeye and his guys’ momentum carried them on, shouting instructions as they rushed the guys in the room, using the element of shock and pure armed aggression to force them up and against the wall, spread-eagled at gun point before they really knew what was happening, while Popeye swiftly ran a practiced search, patting them down for guns while his boys stood back, guns at the ready so as to be able to plug anyone who moved.

  ‘They’re clean,’ he said stepping back after a moment. And then, ‘Good job guys,’ to his lads.

  As I just stood there and watched, it had all taken just a few seconds from start to finish. And we hadn’t even needed the handcuffs.

  I walked into the room and up to the start of the line where Bagpuss was standing. Without saying a word I put the muzzle of the silencer to where the back of his neck met the roll of fat of his skull and squeezed the trigger. The gun gave a kick in my hand, there was a cough from the silencer and before he started to slump I was squeezing the trigger again into the back of Scottie’s neck. As I swung the gun around for the third shot, Doggie had started to turn towards me to see what was happening to the guys beside him. A startled ‘Hey!’ had start to form in his mouth before the gun popped and kicked again in my hands as I shot him in the temple and took a step back to let his body collapse on the floor in front of me as well.

  Dazza stood there rock solid facing the wall and just muttered ‘Oh fuck!’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Popeye said triumphantly, before I waved him quiet with a lift of the gun and stepped across to be right behind Dazza.

  I had learnt my lessons from history. To be safe from revenge, there was only one course of action open to you, to destroy utterly anyone that you had moved against so they could never, ever, rise against you.

  As I moved across, gun now lowered to my side, Dazza moved too, slowly dropping his hands from the wall and turning around to face me.

  ‘I’m not turning away,’ he said matter of factly, ‘If you’re gonna do it you’re gonna have to do it to my face.’

  ‘Alright,’ I said, ‘but there’s some things I want to know first.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘What happened to Gyppo?

  ‘Christ mate, that’s ancient history. What d’you want to know that for? Want to know who did you the favour?’

  ‘Favour?’

  ‘His bird. You did alright there didn’t you?’

  ‘You bastard! And Tiny?’

  He just shrugged, ‘What’s it matter now?’

  ‘It’s the same thing. I just want to know.’

  ‘So what’s with all the chat then Damage? Killing time?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  We stared at each other for a moment in silence. Then Dazza said in an exasperated voice. ‘Look, if you’re going to do it, just fucking get on and do it.’

  ‘OK then Dazza,’ I said, ‘if that’s the way you want it.’

  ‘I do.’

  I raised the gun and placed the muzzle of the silencer right between his eyes. He didn’t even blink. He really was something. I fired. A red purple hole appeared in his forehead, the skin singed blackish around the edge from the flash and he slumped silently towards the floor as his legs buckled beneath him and his head lolled forwards onto his chest.

  Reaching down I shot his prone body twice more in the back of the head and neck. As I leant over him I whispered so that none of the others could hear, ‘That was for Gyppo you fucker.’

  ‘From both of us,’ I added silently.

  ‘OK, you know what to do?’ I said turning to Popeye.

  ‘Yes. We’ll see you there. Now get going,’ he replied.

  *

  I walked around the corner of the lower barn and flashed my torch down the track towards the trees that obscured the road. There was an answering flash and a few moments later the sound of an engine starting and then headlights came on as a long wheel based Landie started up the track.

  Now all that remained was to take delivery of the drop.

  We did it just the way Billy had described it, right up on top of the moors where the ground flattened out into a rolling boggy mossy upland crossed by the occasional sheep or shooter’s track. Up here we were easily out of sight of the road and so we laid out our torches in a cross and then sat in the Landie to wait.

  ‘How’d it go?’ asked Gut.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘No problems?’

  ‘No problems.’

  ‘Good. Now let’s just hope the rest works out OK or we’re all fucked.’ And with that he lapsed into silence.

  We took it in turns to stay outside on sentry duty. We needed to hear the plane as quickly as possible so as to make sure we had all the torches lit in time. Half an hour passed. Then an hour.

  ‘What’s up? D’you reckon their coming?’ asked Gut. ‘How long do you think we give it?’

  ‘Relax, they’ll be coming. Dazza was there wasn’t he?’ I pointed out with more certainty than I actually dared to feel. This was when I would find out whether I was right about what Dazza had been planni
ng. ‘He was obviously expecting them.’

  ‘OK,’ he said reaching into a bag in the back of the van and pulling out a Thermos. ‘So we wait. Meanwhile no use getting cold. Coffee?’

  ‘Now you’re talking!’ I said delightedly. That was one of the great things about Gut. He was just so practical and domesticated. I would never have thought about it until too late.

  He was just starting to pour when one of his guys pulled open the door with a breathless, ‘It’s coming!’

  ‘Shit!’ said Gut spilling his drink as we leapt out of the Landie. The guy was right, I could hear the approaching drone of a distant plane’s engines quite clearly now.

  ‘Quick!’ I shouted, ‘get the torches on!’ as bodies dashed in each direction, beams of light shooting upwards into the misty air as they hit the switches.

  The approaching noise grew louder and louder. It was definitely heading our way. And then the plane came swooping in, low over the horizon, roaring overhead at what felt like only a few feet above our heads in a tremendous blur of screaming noise and vast overwhelming bulk before with a massive whoompf noise three black parachutes suddenly billowed against the sky above us, followed almost immediately by a rattling crash as the load’s sledge was jerked backwards out of the plane and off the roller on the rear cargo ramp and into the air… before smashing down violently onto the ground, and skidding wildly until it came to a halt; while the plane, suddenly lightened from its load climbed back up into the sky and away, its rear cargo door closing as it did so and its noise quickly diminishing into the distance as it flew away from us and off, on towards Glasgow and its entirely innocuous landing as an innocent cargo flight.

  As we stood and listened to the receding roar of the engines, we were all too surprised to move for a moment. And then with a shout, Gut suddenly started to run towards where the sled had finished up wedged against a mound of turf.

  It had worked, I thought to myself as I walked after him. Just like Billy had said. It had really fucking worked!

  By the time I got there Gut had his knife out and had opened the outer packaging. We were all crowded around, wanting to see what was inside. Wanting and not daring to hope that I had been right.