Bridge of Doom

by George McCartney

‘Are you mad? That's just for old saddos, who couldn't score in a brothel with a hundred-pound note.'

  'I think that was her point,' said Annie, nodding her head and smiling. 'Anyway, think about it and, if you want to give it a go, I'll help you get started.’

  'No, I don't think so.'

  Annie then made a clucking chicken noise and said, 'Look, boss, if you're scared to try it, just say. It's really not a big problem.'

  'Don’t be ridiculous, I'm not scared,' said Jack, rather too quickly.

  ‘Listen, it’s not like thirty years ago, when you were prowling around pubs and discos, looking for women. Now you can check people out without the embarrassing business of actually meeting them first. You can see what they look like, find out what their interests are and start to narrow it down that way. I mean for some people the fact that you smoke would be a complete deal breaker right from the get go. But some of the more desperate ones probably only care that you’ve still got some hair, one or two of your own teeth left and a pulse.’

  ‘Yeah, I think I should maybe start with some of the desperate ones and try to work my way up.’

  'Look it's simple, boss. Just get out there with an open mind and try it. Re-join the world and have some fun. Worst case scenario, you'll meet some new people, have a laugh and socialise a bit. But the main thing is not to have unrealistic expectations.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Well, no offence, but at your age it's not likely that hordes of leggy eighteen-year-old blondes are going to be queuing up to take you out clubbing, is it? So maybe just readjust your sights slightly and try to date some of the hot Glasgow cougars. There's plenty of them around, you know.'

  'You mean the old bags?'

  'Shaking her head, Annie said, ‘you're impossible. No, that's not what I meant at all. I'm talking here about mature independent women who are roughly in your own age group. Most of them will have probably managed to get rid of the total waste of space they married, when they were far too young to know any better. And now they're a bit older and wiser, they want to make up for lost time and have some fun on their own terms.'

  'I don't know, Annie. It just seems so …'

  'Listen, what's the worst thing that could happen? You'll meet up with somebody new for a drink, or go for a nice meal and have a friendly chat with the woman. And things maybe progress from there, or maybe they don't. But the point is you're actually doing something different from your normal boring routine and you've got something completely new to think about. The theory is that you can then, maybe, start to look forward in your life and start to leave behind some of the other bad stuff that's best forgotten, you know. I think you could do that.'

  'Mmm … maybe,' sighed Jack, stretching to ease the stiffness caused by an hour and a half spent sitting in the car, watching precisely no-one come or go from the Duff family home. ‘Anyway, this stakeout is turning out to be a complete waste of time. I mean we don't even know if there's anybody inside the house.'

  ‘So?’

  'So we need to shake the tree and make something happen. Remember you’ve also committed us to the shoplifting job and there are probably one or two of my regular clients waiting for me to get back in the saddle. So we can’t take our eye off the ball here for too long. Being busy is good, but we just need to be a bit smarter and keep all the plates spinning at once. I mean we're sitting here waiting for this young guy to come out of the house, but you haven't actually seen his face yet. So even if he did come out and walk right past the car, you couldn't be one hundred per cent sure if he was the iPhone thief. Am I right?'

  'I suppose so. Are you saying I should just let this thing go?'

  'Absolutely not, I know this is important to you and your friend. But we have to be realistic, Annie, and remember that that the clock's ticking on the iPhone. The probability is, that it's been sold on already and there’s no way of ever getting it back.’

  'Okay then, what do you suggest?'

  'Well you could just go over, knock on the door and ask if Fazzo can come out to play.'

  A deep sigh accompanied by a trademark withering look from Annie.

  'Or, we could try something different and drive round to that little parade of shops we passed on the way here. You know, a couple of streets back.'

  'Why?'

  'Well, from memory, hidden behind the security shutters and the graffiti, I’m pretty sure there's an off-licence, a bookie's, a chip shop and a tattoo parlour. Trust me that row of shops, which are closest to the Duff house, will have almost everything a wee ned like Fazzo needs. So he will be known there for sure. And, if it's like all the other scheme shops in Glasgow, there will be a group of no-good bums permanently hanging around outside. Mainly the young team, they'll be arsing around scratching their balls, playing with their mobile phones and talking shite. Of course, at the same time they’re keeping an eye out for any old age pensioners with a limp that they can rob.'

  'Okay, you're right. It's worth a try, better than sitting here.'

  Five minutes later they were parked opposite the shops. Five young men were standing shuffling around outside an off-licence, constantly checking their mobile phones and laughing loudly.

  'So that's the young team, as predicted. What do we do now?’ said Annie.

  'Well let's say a good looking young woman was to sidle up to these fine upstanding young lads and start to make nice with them. If she was smart, she might be able to get hold of Fazzo's mobile number. That would be the break we need, because, even if you haven't seen his face, if you hear his voice again you'll be able to confirm he is the iPhone thief.'

  'You're not as daft as you look, boss,' said Annie. 'Okay, give me one of your cigarettes so I can blend in.'

  'Oh, and slip on your beanie hat as well. If Fazzo hears on the bush telegraph that a young woman with short blond hair has been asking for him, he might put two and two together.'

  'So how do I play it?'

  'Ignore the boys and just walk past. Go into the off-licence, buy some booze and on the way back out, stop and ask one of the neds for a light. Your back-story is that you're crashing at a friend's house in the area. Have a moan and say that you've split up with a boyfriend, or been thrown out of your parents' house, some crap like that. Anyway, you're temporarily off your home turf and want to score some good weed and you've been told that Fazzo has the best stuff in the area. Ask if they have his mobile number.'

  'Okay, is there anything else I need to remember?'

  'They’ll be suspicious because you’re a stranger, but try not to get bogged down answering too many awkward questions. And if you think it's not working, just walk away. I'll be watching from the car in case we have a problem. Are you sure you’re okay doing this?’

  'Yeah, I'm cool,' said Annie confidently, pulling on her woolly hat before slipping the cigarette behind her left ear.

  'Nice touch, and remember to slouch a bit and scowl. And I know it's not in your nature, Annie, but try to act grumpy, as if the whole world's against you.'

  'I can do that and, believe me, today I'm not acting,' said Annie forcefully, as she got out of the car and slouched off towards the shops. Behind her back, she gave Jack the middle finger salute.

  Jack watched apprehensively from the car, as Annie walked past the small group of neds and entered the off-licence. He was too far away to hear what was being said, but a chorus of admiring wolf-whistles, accompanied by an outbreak of massed crotch grabbing and pelvic thrusting signalled that the group were favourably impressed by his young partner.

  Ten minutes later, when Annie was nearly back at the car, she remained in character by flicking her cigarette end at the backside of a passing cat. Jack smiled as she got into the driver’s seat and handed him a half-empty bottle of the aptly named Ersitall vodka, before driving off.

  ‘That seemed to go well. Did you get the phone number?’

  ‘Well they’re obviously leery of strangers, so it was a struggle at first. But they didn’t stand a chance,
once I pitted all of my womanly wiles and superior intelligence against them.’

  ‘And?’

  Annie smiled, then said, ‘and when that didn’t work, I offered them all a drink from my bottle of vodka, in exchange for Fazzo’s phone number. And, before you ask, I did check the contacts list on the guy’s phone, to see that he was giving me the correct number. Actually I got the impression that the boys aren’t big fans of the Duff family. Something to do with an unpaid debt. I didn’t get the full story, but I think there’s definitely some unfinished business pending there.’

  ‘Well done, Annie. Now you can try phoning the little prick and see if it’s the same voice that answers.’

  Chapter 14

  'By the way, Danny, did you manage to sell that iPhone back to the owner, like I told you?'

  ‘Well there’s bad news and good news, da,’ said Fazzo with a smirk.

  ‘Stop fucking around and answer me,’ growled Duff senior.

  ‘Okay, sorry. The bad news is that I only got three hundred for the iPhone.’

  ‘And what’s the good news?’

  ‘Producing the phone from the back pocket of his jeans with a flourish, Fazzo said, ‘dah dah … the good news is I’ve still got it. The first name on that contact list you gave me was some stupid bitch called Annie and, when I phoned her, she insisted on haggling over the price. That really pissed me off big time so, when I got to the bus station for the handover, I took the dough and then shoved her on her arse and legged it with the iPhone. Jody was waiting outside on his bike and we were gone before she knew what was happening. It was dead simple and, before you ask, we had our helmets on and Jody had false plates on the bike. So, no worries. Good idea, eh?’

  ‘It was, but I’ve got a much better idea, Danny. You keep the iPhone and I’ll take the three hundred.’

  ‘But da … that’s no fair.’

  ‘No buts, short arse. Hand over the money … now.’

  Fazzo did as instructed and shuffled off to his room, cursing angrily under his breath.

  Although a relatively small time player, in terms of the Glasgow drug scene, Tommy Duff had ambitious, some would say delusional, expansion plans and was always on the lookout for ways in which he could apply modern business methods to benefit his modest criminal enterprise. To this end he was an avid listener to The Bottom Line, on BBC Radio 4, where prominent business men and women regularly share pearls of wisdom for the benefit of lesser mortals. However, on this particular day, sitting in his home office staring at the screen of his laptop with a worried frown, Tommy had more pressing matters on his mind.

  'We've got a problem, Danny,' he shouted. 'You need to come here right now and see this.'

  Bouncing back into the small room, his son looked expectantly over his father’s shoulder and said, 'great da, is it some good porn?'

  'No, it's a spreadsheet, you idiot. Take a look at it and tell me what you see.'

  'Dunno. It's just a mess of stupid numbers and stuff,' said Danny, quickly confirming that spreadsheet analysis was not really his thing.

  Glaring at his son, Duff senior counted to ten and then continued, 'what the stupid numbers say is that we've not been selling nearly enough hash in the last two quarters. And see this graph here? It clearly shows there's a definite downward trend in our income stream. All our overheads are the same as before, but our bottom line is getting squeezed hard. You'd think that with the economy picking up, and people having a bit more cash in their pockets, our sales figures would be picking up as well. But they're not, Danny. You're in charge of the retail division and this situation isn't sustainable. Something has to be done about it.'

  Anticipating harsh words and possibly a slap, Danny quickly replied, 'I suppose I could get out ma bed a wee bit earlier and work a bit later at night as well, if that would help, da.'

  'Yeah, but it's not as simple as that. It's all about supply and demand. Like if there's too much milk being produced, then the price goes down. That's how the world economy works, son. If there's if there's too much of anything on the market, then the price comes down. You understand?'

  'Not really, no.'

  'Okay, let me put it this way … too much is bad, right? Our core business is the supply of illegal drugs, so ideally what we want is a slight under supply of product in the market place, because that keeps demand for drugs high. And so, as night follows day, if demand for illegal drugs is high, what else must be high? Come on, work with me here, Danny.'

  'The punters?'

  'Yes, of course the fucking punters get high, that's the whole point, dip stick. But what else?'

  'Aw right, you mean prices. Sorry da.'

  'Give that man a great big spliff, but for fuck's sake don't light it yet. Because if demand is kept high, then prices will stay high. Getting that balance just right is the key to long-term success in any business. So, in this competitive retail landscape, the question is, how do we keep demand and prices high?'

  'Dunno,' said Fazzo, rapidly losing the will to live.

  'How can I make this really, really simple for you? Okay, what does the big Tesco supermarket up the road do, if they want you to buy more Weetabix?'

  'It disnae matter what they do, I don't like Weetabix. It's like eating fuckin' soggy chipboard.'

  'Okay, let me put it this way, how do the shops try and get you to buy more of anything?'

  'Aw right … ah get it. You mean like special offers?'

  'That's right. We have to give our customers an incentive to buy their hash from us, instead of from the competition.'

  'So, like, does that mean we’ll have to start giving the punters Clubcard points along with their dope, and maybe some money off a tank of petrol as well?'

  'Not quite, son. We need a two-pronged strategy tailored to our individual circumstances.'

  'What?'

  'Sorry, first we’ll reduce prices in the short term, to stimulate demand and claw back our lost market share. Second, we need to try and choke off some of the over-supply caused by all of the bloody amateurs, who are growing weed at home and then selling what they don't use. In case you don’t know, a lot of them have a nice little business going. They start out small with two or three cannabis plants, growing for their own consumption. Then they find out that it's simple to grow the stuff and it's not much more difficult to gear things up to twenty or thirty plants, producing significant quantities of good quality weed. Then they can make serious cash selling to friends. And I'm pretty sure that's what's caused our problems over the last six months, because the amateur home growers are having a serious impact on our business.'

  'So do we need to take some of them out as an example to the rest?' said Fazzo, suddenly showing interest.

  Ignoring his son's bloodthirsty instincts, Tommy continued, 'there was an interesting bit on the radio about it at the weekend. They reckon that there are up to half a million people in the UK growing cannabis at home. Even some established gangs are switching from dealing hard drugs to cannabis, because of the more lenient jail sentences if they get caught. In some areas they know they won't be jailed, if they're caught growing fewer than ten plants in a single house. That doesn't sound much but, even if you've only got nine plants, that's still enough to make around forty grand a year, which is pretty good money.'

  Fazzo yawned and scratched his balls, then started to surreptitiously check his text messages, as his father continued. 'It's incredible, because they reckon 80 per cent of the weed smoked in the UK is now produced here. I support that trend one hundred per cent, by the way. Buy British every time, I say.'

  'So what's the plan, da?'

  'Patience, I'm not finished yet. Look at it this way, if you're hard up and can't get a decent job, well you can maybe still scrape together three hundred quid to buy a hydroponics starter kit. That includes a tent for growing, a heating light and some kind of basic ventilation system. Then do a quick Google search for a cannabis seeds supplier, and that's all it takes. Everything you need will be courier
ed to your door in a couple of days and, bingo, you're in business. It makes sense for a lot of people.'

  Fazzo finished checking his phone and then began enthusiastically picking the upper cavities of his nose, until a stern look from his father forced him to sit still and pay attention.

  'Of course, you have to be careful. The nosy neighbours usually don't miss much and, if they see any blacked-out windows with condensation constantly running down inside, or notice a peculiar sweet smell hanging around in the street, then you're in trouble. If they've nothing better to do, the police sometimes drive around at night with thermal imaging cameras, trying to spot houses with a higher than normal heat signature. Although most of these problems can be overcome, if you keep the operation small scale and use the loft space.'

  'Sneaky bastards. So that's how the polis find the weed growers, but how will we do it?'

  'Good question. We’ll find them by using cutting edge technology, son. I've just ordered one of the latest drones off eBay, for fifteen hundred quid. This little baby here on the screen has an HD camera, with full thermal imaging capability and can fly up to five hundred feet, then stay in the air for twenty minutes on a fully charged battery. The controller is exactly the same kind of gizmo you use for your Xbox, and the drone can beam pictures straight back to a smartphone or laptop. I've often wondered what I was going to do with you, Danny, but this is your opportunity to shine. All the thousands of hours you've spent in your bedroom, playing stupid computer games, haven't been wasted after all, because you're going to be my chief drone pilot. Any questions?'

  'Yeah, that's great. But wait a minute … these drone things don’t have x-ray vision, do they? I mean ye can’t see through roofs, so how does that help us?'

  'Good question. If it's winter and there's been a hard frost, or snow, we just fly the drone around the scheme looking for houses where all the frost has been melted off the roof. Unless loads of insulation is used on the underside of the roof timbers, there's nowhere to hide from a drone. So, if it's as cold as a witch’s tit outside and the roof is clear, then there must be a lot of heat being generated inside the loft. To me that's like a big flashing neon sign hanging above the front door, saying cannabis is grown in here. The rest of the year we’ll simply fly with the thermal imaging camera permanently switched on, looking for hot spots that show up as bright red. They shouldn't be hard to spot, Danny, but remember it isn't just houses that we're on the lookout for. Growers could be using garden sheds, garages, empty shops or any kind of outhouse as well. Doesn't matter, it's the same deal.'